We're about halfway through the story, everyone! Thanks again for all the reviews/alerts/favs. I love them!

There's some more unpleasant slave memories in this chapter. Head's up.

Despite Gibbs' coaxing, Tony had trouble sitting in a chair at the table—since he hadn't been allowed to sit and eat like a normal person in years—so all of them sat in the living room, Tony and Abby cross-legged on the floor, laughing and recounting old cases. Tony even asked for seconds, which they all rushed to give him.

Abby pulled out her case notes when everything was cleaned up and Ducky and Gibbs were content on the couch with their respective tea and coffee. Tony had slipped on the OSU Tshirt and a pair of his old jeans, feeling infinitely better in his own comfy clothes.

"So," Tony began, having been caught up on the case during dinner, "Ching-Lan said Mei-Lien went with Lewis and Daljeet to Virginia on a skiing trip on January sixth of this year. That was the last time she saw any of them."

"Alive." Gibbs added. "Her cops found Daljeet's body in Arlington with a bullet through the temple."

"Was he buried?" Ducky asked.

"No." Abby answered, flicking through the info on a USB Ching-Lan had provided. "The body was just lying in the grass." She stared at the glowing screen, her finger flicking on the wireless mouse.

"Does it say when he was found on there, Abbs?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Here." She turned the laptop around to face them. "This looks like an article that was taken from a newspaper." Gibbs looked at the headline proclaiming the body to be found. The date of the paper was January eleventh.

"Newspaper." Tony said in disbelief. "Someone was lucky enough to get a hold of a newspaper."

"It says the body was found on the northwest side of Arlington" Gibbs said. "Nothing else useful. Alright, tomorrow, we're heading to Arlington."

"For what, boss?"

"To look for clues DiNozzo. Don't tell me you've forgotten how this is done."

"No—no of course not!" Tony said, his eyes lighting, "but it's been six months already…do you really think anything's…" Tony trailed off and nodded. "Of course, that's why we're going to check it out."

"Gibbs," Abby began. "Arlington's closed to the public. Do we have access?"

"Yes. Ching-Lan said to tell anyone who interferes that we have her permission to do whatever's needed to solve the case. She said we'd have no problems. And if Arlington's closed to the public, there's less chance that the crime scene was messed with. We'll leave here at 0900."

Tony knocked on Abby's closed door later that night, long after Gibbs and Ducky had gone to sleep. Warm light was streaming from underneath the door. The goth girl had always been a night owl.

"Hi Tony." She pulled open the door and they hugged. Soft music was playing from her laptop, not the usual banging noise she preferred. "It's my 'hello moon' mix." She said with a grin. The pile of blankets was still on the floor from last night. Tony looked at her stuffed animals and big boots on the carpet, squeezing her tighter to him, loving her more at this moment than he ever had before.

"Thank you." He said. The words sounded so paltry and stupid compared to how he was actually feeling. "Thank you so much." He hugged her close and sensed her smile. "I never thought I'd see any of my stuff…or my guitar, ever..."

Abby pulled away from him, her eyes glassy.

"You're welcome, Tony boy." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "For you? Anything. You want to sleep?"

"Um, I think I'll try it in the other room tonight…just to see…"

"Of course." She gathered the blankets and piled them into his arms. "But if you want to, come on in. I remember my first nights here. It was a little tough—even though it's Gibbs' house and we're like totally safe here."

"Thanks, Abby."

She kissed him chastely on the cheek and he went to Gibbs' other room—no, his room. He reset the sheets in some sort of order and fell into bed. It was weird, being in this new clean space that was his when just two nights ago he was huddled on an icy basement floor with little but a few blankets to keep him the other slaves warm. The light on the corner of Gibbs' street shone faintly through the blinds, casting white-silver bars of light over the floor and wall. Tony rolled over, pulling the blanket up close, wondering when or if he would sleep tonight…

Tony peered up, his eyes bleary and tired. He shook his head and heard chains jingle. Glancing up, he saw he was on his knees, his hands chained to something above his head. His eyes burned and he closed them tight. So Gibbs hadn't come and stolen him from Bronislav. Seeing Abby again had just been some kind of cruel dream his subconscious conjured. He blinked, noticing two figures some fifteen feet in front of him.

"Mister Sutton?" His first master, the man who bought him right after the country fell, the man who broke him kicking and screaming into slavery, was holding the wrist of a young woman, a collar around her neck. "Rachel!" Tony called. She turned to look at him, and Tony choked in horror. Her face was a mottled mess of bruises. Skin was gone in places, showing white bone and red muscle. Tony looked away, the image searing itself into his brain.

"You let him do this to me!" The voice coming from the ruined lips was accusing and cold. "You didn't help me!"

"I'm sorry." Tony whispered.

Sutton turned, grinning at Tony before stepping aside. Chained to the floor was the body of another woman. Tony grimaced, not wanting to look but knowing he was going to. The woman's raven hair spilled behind her, mixing with the blood pouring from her neck. Her familiar green eyes were frozen open, staring at nothing for eternity. The black spiky collar was torn in half on the ground beside her.

"Abby!" Tony yelled. "Abby—no!"

"Ab—!" Tony gasped awake. He sat up, panicking at the cotton sheet wrapped tightly around his body. He jumped out of bed, shrugging the sheet to the floor before half leaning, half collapsing against the wall beside the bed. He sat there, breathing hard, a cold sweat icing over his body. The bed. The bed in Gibbs' house. His bed. Tony glanced around at the room, at its bare walls and bars of light on the floor. Gibbs' floor in Gibbs' house. Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Where did that come from? Sure he had nightmares now and then. When he was first made a slave they were almost nightly. He'd dream often of bloody bodies or mutilated limbs, people getting beaten and cities burning to the earth. In that first horrible year, he probably slept about one of every four nights. Tony shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair, settling his hand on the empty space Bronislav's collar had rested just hours ago.

He bore no good feelings towards his old metal collar, but would Gibbs really give him a new one? He'd said he would, but masters lied all the time.

Gibbs isn't just a master, though. Tony told himself firmly. This is Gibbs!

If he truly was going to stay here, Gibbs would need to give him a new collar—the laws said he had to. But Gibbs already had Abby…he didn't need another slave. Unless Abby got orders from China to go to the fuel mines? Tony gulped, feeling worry pour into his gut as his heart sank to the floor. Maybe Abby had already gotten the orders? Every year, random slave serial numbers were drawn from a lottery. The slaves that were picked had to go work a mine or a processing factory or anywhere China deemed for one year before they were released back to their masters. He didn't want to think about Abby being sent somewhere far away, doing back-breaking work in a pit somewhere in Siberia. Somewhere she wouldn't be safe. Now that he had his friend back, that he'd heard her voice and felt her hugs, Tony didn't know what would happen if he lost her again.

Tony let his hand drop from his neck and he looked at the mattress with distaste. He wasn't too keen on the idea of jumping back in there and inviting the nightmares to play in his brain again. He got up and wandered into the hall. He paused outside Abby's room and pushed the door open a few inches. She was asleep, the room dark. Tony had almost hoped she was still awake, night owl as she was. He wanted to see the life in her green eyes and a smile on her lips. He saw her shape curled in the bed. Her face was peaceful, her breaths even and deep. One hand was on Bert and Tony smiled, pulling the door closed again. He went back to his own room, feeling better but still at a loss. He was wide awake and he wanted to stay that way. He looked at the guitar case and hesitated. Three am wasn't a good time to play guitar in a silent house of sleeping people. That would have to wait a little longer. Tony wandered to the bathroom and reached under the sink for a brush and can of cleaning spray. If he couldn't sleep, he may as well make himself useful.

The next morning after an early breakfast everyone piled into the car. They had scrounged together anything they thought they could possibly use—makeshift evidence Ziploc bags, a camera. Abby brought a drawing pad with for sketching. Gibbs rolled down his window when they approached the cemetery and told a passing cop that they needed to get in on case-related work. He didn't hesitate to unlock the huge iron doors and let them in.

"Well, that was easy." Abby said, opening up her computer.

"Probably'll be the only part of this case that is." Gibbs said.

They drove to the northwest side of the cemetery and parked. The white gravestones were still intact for the most part, but everything was overgrown and unkempt. Tony pushed a tattered scrap of American flag with his foot and frowned, stifling a yawn.

"Alright." Gibbs said. He tossed them each some gloves. "The notes on the newspaper clipping said the body was in a patch of trees. And since those," he pointed to a group of sycamores and maples two hundred yards away, "are the only trees around, let's start there. Tony, sketch. Abbs, shoot." Gibbs looked to Ducky.

"Bag and tag?" The older man said with a grin. They exchanged a chuckle and got working.

After three hours the drawing pad was nearly filled and Abby, lacking the practiced eye of a field agent, had taken almost six hundred pictures. They were no closer to finding anything than they were when they started.

"Abby," Tony said a couple hours later as he stretched his back, "are you absolutely sure that there's nothing on the USB that could possibly tell us any more about this Daljeet guy? Like maybe why his body was dumped here specifically?"

"Tony, for the hundredth time. No."

Tony groaned and dropped to the cool, moist grass and leaned against a tree.

"There's nothing here!" He said, irritated after his poor night's sleep and wanting caffeine. "What is Gibbs expecting find after six months?"

"Uh, Tony…"

"Who knows what happened to any evidence? It's rained, snowed. Hell, the wind could have blown something away."

"Tony." Abby repeated in a firmer voice.

"Maybe one of the patrolling guard mutts ate a perfectly valuable clue. Do you think he'll let us break for lunch?"

"We don't have to, DiNozzo." Gibbs said dryly from behind him. Tony jumped away from the tree and hung his head, his shoulders hunching around his neck.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—."

"At ease, Tony." Gibbs interrupted. The younger man fell quiet and peered up. "Ducky found something."

Abby grabbed her computer and trotted towards Ducky. Tony moved to follow but Gibbs stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Fine, sir—boss." Tony stared at the sketchpad in his hands.

"Sure about that?" Gibbs pressed.

Tony shrugged, suppressing a yawn. "Haven't done this in a while."

"Is it being outside?" Gibbs asked, remembering Tony's aversion to being outside without a leash for fear of punishment.

"No." Tony said after a beat. "I have permission from you, and you're my master now, so it's alright."

"Damn right it is. You've been sleeping okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure." Tony looked up, glancing at Gibbs' concerned face. "Why?"

"You drank half the pot this morning and you've been yawning all day. Also, I walked into the bathroom this morning and I could see myself in the floor."

"Felt like cleaning." Tony said quietly. He looked away again, becoming fascinated with the spiral binding on the thick pad.

"Hey."

Tony glanced up, meeting blue eyes.

"You need to talk about anything, we're all here, Tony. You don't have to deal with this alone. Talk to Abby, talk to me or Duck but don't hold it in."

Tony pulled away.

"There's nothin' to be ashamed about." Gibbs said.

"Okay, G-Gibbs." Tony said, stumbling over the man's surname.

"Good." Gibbs rested his warm hand on the back of Tony's head, glad Tony didn't flinch away again. "We're here for ya." Gibbs dropped his hand and walked towards Ducky and Abby.

Ducky was staring thoughtfully into a low sycamore.

"Corvus brachyrhynchos." He said when they arrived. "More commonly known as the crow."

"A crow killed Daljeet?" Tony said.

"No. Well—doubtful. Crows, like magpies and many other species of intelligent bird, are attracted to shiny things."

"Had some old girlfriends who were too." Tony muttered to Abby. She snickered.

"Abby, pull up that photo of Mei-Lien again." Abby clicked a few times and a photo of a young, smiling Chinese girl popped up. "Look." Ducky pointed at the screen. "See that? She's wearing a necklace." Tony and Abby looked at the screen, studying the delicate golden chain she had around her neck. "Now look." Ducky pointed at the tree. In a bird's nest, a glint of gold shimmered in the sun.

"Is that the necklace?" Tony squawked.

"Let's find out." Abby murmured. She shoved the laptop into Tony's arms and hopped up onto a branch. She climbed arm over arm until she reached the scrawny nest ten feet off the ground. She slid on a glove and carefully wiggled and pulled at the glimmering gold until it broke free. Sliding it into a Ziploc bag, she shimmied back down and handed the chain to Gibbs.

"Nice job, Abby." Gibbs said. He held up the thing so they could all see it. A small pendant dangled from the chain.

"It looks like a match." Ducky said.

"Abbs," Gibbs said. "Is the AFIS database still up and running? Do you think you could get a print off this pendant?"

"I have no idea, Gibbs. It's definitely worth a shot though."

"Anything yet, Abby?" Gibbs leaned over Abby's shoulder once they got back from Arlington, placing a big glass of Red Bull on the kitchen table beside her. Caf-Pows! hadn't existed for nearly four years now.

"No. But…I think…I may be getting something." Abby's fingers flew over the keyboard as she pushed and prodded her way in to the old databases. "See," she began, "China never really wiped out anything, they just kind of came, enslaved everyone, got their mineral, and left. Things were just abandoned. At least, that's how it seems. It makes sense that the databases would still be intact somewhere." She sat back, watching the computer scan. "It's searching." She said. "I can't even give you a ballpark on how long it'll take, Gibbs. Could be five minutes, could be five days."

"That's okay, Abbs." Gibbs said. "You're doing your best and that's all I ever want."

"Aw, Gibbs…"

"I'm gonna go to the markets with Tony. You wanna come?"

"Sure." She pushed away from the table, stood and cracked her back. "We need a new sketch pad. The one Tony was using is almost full. If we find another crime scene that needs sketching, we'll need a new pad."

About four miles from Gibbs' house there were three square blocks of nothing but stores. It was a weird mix of the old days and the new. Strip malls had been gutted and converted to a sort of outdoor-indoor row of shops that sold electronics, baked goods, books, clothes, items for slave owners and other odds and ends. Across the road there was a local grocery store that had survived The Fall and stayed relatively intact, the only real difference being that their Chinese cuisine section got much larger.

Everyday in the expansive parking lot there was a big flea market. Individuals rented makeshift booths that were crammed together and sold a variety of food, bootleg movies, collars and leashes and other things for slaves, purses and clothes that had once been expensive name brands, and any other bit of whatnot you could think of. The huge amount of items sold in such a compact area was incredibly convenient, and most people had adapted well to the small changes in running errands.

Gibbs parked the car in a designated guarded lot.

"Stick close to us, Tony. It's crowded today."

Tony eyed the milling crowds. "Like white on rice." He agreed. Abby slipped her arm onto Tony's as Gibbs took up her leash loosely in his hand.
They hit the flea market first. Armed cops wandered around, doing very little except look intimidating. Almost every free person they saw had at least one leashed slave with them, and as always, Tony couldn't help but marvel at the various dynamics he saw. He knew from experience that individual free people generally preferred a certain type of slave. An older Asian man owned a group of twenty-somethings with blonde hair. A white woman in her early forties held the leashes of two young men, both of which had lip rings and flamboyantly colored hair.

Many owners dressed their slaves in particular outfits that tended to accentuate certain body parts. Tony tried not to stare at a group of barely clad women that walked past. Years ago he may have found the idea of women in skimpy clothing walking around in public to be very appealing. And certainly there were plenty of free people who agreed with that sentiment. But since he'd been a slave, since he'd looked out from the other side, he knew that the ones subjected to the humiliation weren't getting off on being half naked. And that just made the whole thing disturbing.

He smiled at the weight of Abby's arm on his, taking solace in her soothing voice as they talked about the little shops and stalls. Gibbs walked at a meandering pace in front of them, the bright red leash connecting Gibbs' hand with Abby's neck. A sense of peace filled Tony like sunlight spilling into a dark room and he decided there was no other place he'd rather be on earth than right here with Gibbs and Abby in this bustling little market.

They stopped at a booth selling pastries and coffee.

"Do you guys want anything?" Gibbs said, staring at the menu. "Breakfast was awhile ago."

"Small coffee." Abby said. "Room for cream."

"Tony?"

"Um...no, that's okay."

"It's okay, Tony." Gibbs heard Abby say. "It's not a trick. Seriously, get a hazelnut coffee—when's the last time you had one?"

"Forever ago." He said after a beat. Then, "okay."

"Gibbs—get a small hazelnut too!" Abby said.

"Donuts?" Gibbs asked.

"A jelly one." Tony said.

Gibbs paid and handed them their food. Tony grinned as he took his donut.

"May I eat, master?" He asked excitedly.

"Of course." Gibbs said, hiding a smile. "It's yours."

Tony tore off the wax paper surrounding the pastry and bit into it, making orgasmic sounds of pleasure as he chewed. Abby bit into her chocolate coconut glazed and smiled at his noises.

A few people glanced over at Tony, but Gibbs' glare sent their eyes scurrying back in front of them.

"Thank you, master." He mumbled through a mouthful. "Thank you, it's delicious."

Gibbs' jaw tightened. "It's okay, Tony. From now on, if you ever want a donut, you get one. You don't need my permission."

"Yes, Gibbs." Tony took another bite and moaned again, then licked the jelly out of the center.

"What did your old masters feed you?"

"My first master—Carmichael Sutton," Tony adopted an exaggerated southern accent and Gibbs's mouth quirked "—was a fan of MRE's. My second master was a little better when it came to food. She was loaded, had four slaves, and she fed us often enough with all the food groups. Bronislav didn't really care what we ate or how we got it, as long as we kept ourselves healthy and didn't touch his personal food." Tony took another bite and chewed slowly, savoring it. Abby wrapped her arm around his again as he talked. "Sometimes I would get full meals, on like holidays and stuff when there was tons of food for the master's family—slaves would get the leftovers…"

"What was your second master's name?" Gibbs pressed gently. Tony paused, then said. "Joanna Morgan."

"What did she do for a living?" Abby asked.

"She was a lawyer." Tony gave Gibbs a wry smile. "I had to break rule thirteen, boss. Sorry." Tony said with a bitter grin.

"Was she decent to you?" Abby asked, sipping her coffee.

"Tolerably so." Tony said. "Sorta treated me like a piece of meat at times, on the days she'd be drunk. But with my looks, can you blame her?" Tony laughed self-consciously and gave Abby a smile.

"Yes." Abby said. "My master, once he caught me, treated me like a piece of meat too."

Tony squeezed her hand. "Sorry, Abby."

"At least it's over." She said.

"What do you mean you were caught?" Tony asked.

"Right after The Fall, I stayed with my nuns at the convent for the first two and a half years."

"They hid you?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. Like the Von Trapps in Sound of Music." Tony mused.

"I stayed in the basement. It was only supposed to be temporary—for like a couple weeks. They came to search once. Chinese soldiers came and searched for mine-dodgers like me. They didn't look very hard though. I was lucky. I tried to find my family afterwards." She paused. "I had heard most of my hometown in Louisiana burned during the first wave."

"Oh, Abbs." Tony squeezed her hand.

"Right after Gibbs and Ducky bought me, we all went down there." She paused, smiling grimly. "Everything—everyone was gone."

"I'm sorry, Abby."

"It's okay." She said. "I have boss-man and Duck. Still talk to the nuns. There's so many more people out there who lost so much more and have no one to turn to. I'm lucky." She insisted. "My second family took me in."

"What was your first master like?" Tony asked, aware that was a sensitive subject.

"He dressed me up. Called me names. He had some other women as slaves, he smacked us around." She shrugged. "He had all female slaves. He liked to color coordinate us. He dyed my hair bright blue, made me wear blue lipstick and little blue dresses. Other girls wore pink or green. Remember those colored candy drops that would come on those white rolls of paper?"

"Yeah. Got that stuff every year from the easter bunny."

"We were like little pieces of candy to him. Little dress-up dolls. He was a painter. He told us we were his muses, which, I guess if you're inspired by dressing women like toys and making them feel bad about themselves, then muses we were." She looked up at him. "Those days are over though. Gibbs and Ducky have never done anything like that. And they never will." She squeezed his hand and his mouth quirked.

"You trying to tell me to stop going all Zeus and Apollo around you?"

She smiled. "I'm just saying that you don't need to worry anymore. They're not gonna let anything bad happen to me. Or you."

"There was a woman that Sutton had." Tony said quietly. "Rachel. He'd slap her around. If I was the one that did something wrong, he'd go after her to punish me. He was that kind of guy."

Up ahead, Tony noted the way Gibbs straightened. His jaw tightened in annoyance in a way that was obvious even from behind.

"He didn't like his male and female slaves to interact at all. To even be in the same room together, to speak to each other. Forget sleeping in the same room at night. He had us all separate. Threatened to beat the hell out of us if we were caught together, even if it was just to ask, "hey, have you seen the toilet brush?""

"Jeez." Abby mumbled.

"Bronislav was a misogynist too." Tony continued. "He had two female slaves that he loved when he was in a good mood, but beat the crap out of when he was upset." He turned to Abby. "I thought of you dealing with the same shit and I couldn't take it. I told myself that if you were gone, dead, then at least you weren't being hurt." He gulped some coffee. "That's what I told myself. I made up these lies to keep myself sane—how fucked up is that?" He laughed humorlessly.

Abby sniffled a little and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Sorry." He whispered. He passed her a napkin from the donut place.

"Not your fault. I hate these stupid slave laws."

Gibbs spotted a stall that specialized in art products right across from Ducky's favorite tea booth. He'd helped the owner of that particular tea place find her enslaved daughter. The pair ran the business together now, and they waved when they saw Gibbs. Ducky didn't really need any more tea, but…

"Can you guys get the sketch pad?" He said. He smiled and waved back to her.

"Sure, Gibbs." Abby chirped.

Gibbs pushed some money into Tony's hand, handed Abby her leash, and they split off.

"Oh!" Abby gasped as they walked towards the art stall. "Twisted Rivets is here today!" Tony glanced up to where she was looking and saw a stall filled with leather goods and gothic clothing. It was three spaces down from the art booth. "They never set up at the market."

"Go, Abby. I can get the pad."

"Really?"

"Sure. Go on. I'll meet you there."

"Thanks Tony!" Abby darted to the booth and Tony wandered under the awning of the little art tent, looking at the paintings and brushes for sale. An unsmiling man with brown hair who looked a little younger than Gibbs sat behind the counter, reading a book. He murmured a hello but paid Tony no attention. Tony glanced across the way. Gibbs was listening politely as the woman in the tea place chattered on and on. Satisfied that he could take his time, Tony went over to the sketchbooks and frowned. There were so many. He had no idea that there could be so many different types of paper and sizes. Abby's had a blue cover, but so did plenty of these. Gibbs had just said to buy another one, he never said which kind. Tony gave a little sigh and pulled a blue one off the shelf, debating.

"Excuse me." A voice said. Tony ignored it as he flipped through the clean white pages. This one looked okay.

"Hey! Slave!" Tony jumped and nearly dropped the book. The unsmiling owner was glaring at him. "Where's your master?

"What?" Tony said.

"Your. Master. You dumb, boy?" The guy got up and stalked over to Tony, ripping the book out of his hands and putting it back on the shelf. Tony winced and took a step back. "Get on your knees, slave." Tony dropped and stared at the man's shoes.

"Where's your master?"

"Just out there, sir." Tony pointed towards the tea stand. His mouth fell when he saw Gibbs wasn't there.

"Where?" The man snarled.

"He was there! I swear—." Tony yelped as the guy grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.

"You have no collar!" He threw Tony's head forward. "You came to steal!"

"No! I have money!" Tony yelped again as the guy backhanded him so hard he crashed to the ground. He blinked a few times, seeing stars. He hadn't been hit that hard in the face in months. The guy grabbed his hair again and slid a leather collar over his head. "No!" Tony shoved the guy away. "I have a master!"

"No collar, no master."

Tony grunted as he was shoved face-first into the ground. The man's heavy shoe landed on his back, holding him in place. Rage gurgled in Tony's stomach. Maybe a month ago he would have simply lain there and taken it, but not now, not after Gibbs had found him and started giving him back a few shreds of dignity. Tony struggled violently beneath the shoe, nearly throwing the bastard off-balance.

"Insolent little bitch." The guy sneered. He ground his foot into Tony's back, making him gasp. "You're going to get the whipping of your life, boy."

Gibbs stifled a yawn, trying not to look obviously bored as Irene the tea lady showed him a brand new type of tea that they had just had gotten from the Middle East. They were standing among hundreds of little boxes behind her shop, well out of view of the public.

"Smell that, Gibbs." She offered him a spoonful of some curled up dead leaves. He sniffed at it and nodded.

"Nice."

"We got such a deal! And this—."

"Wait." Gibbs held up a hand and went still, listening. He heard a familiar voice protesting loudly, and then someone yelling something back.

"Irene." He said. "I gotta go." Gibbs rounded the front of the stall and growled at the sight he saw in the art tent. He bolted forward, shoving people out of the way before muscling into the tent. "What the hell is going on in here!" He bellowed.

Tony winced at Gibbs' voice. Oh shit, that was his 'interrogating dirtbags' voice. He was really in trouble now.

"Master, I'm sorry—."

"Shut up Tony."

Gibbs strode forward and shoved the art guy into a rack of pencils. Tony lay still on the ground, wincing as he heard Gibbs land a few satisfying punches on the guy's face.

"How dare you touch another owner's slave." Gibbs hissed. "Get your collar off of him." Tony heard scrambling, and then felt shaky fingers at his throat, sliding the leather away. Part of him wanted to laugh. The guy wasn't so tough now. Gibbs' bad side was not a good place to be on. The rest of him demanded that he lay quiet and huddled, like a good little slave. A few more things were said before a familiar pair of black and white Chucks walked into his vision. Gibbs' knee cracked as he squatted down beside Tony.

"You hurt, DiNozzo?" A soft hand rubbed across his shoulders.

"No boss." Tony whispered.

"Good. Where's Abby?" His voice was tight. Tony winced. Dammit, they shouldn't have split up.

"She's at Twisted Rivets." Tony said. "I was going to meet her there after buying the sketch pad."

Gibbs exhaled in relief. "Kneel up for me."

Tony gratefully pushed himself to his knees and Gibbs' eyes flashed at the red mark on his face.

"Apologize." Gibbs growled to the man.

"I'm sorry!" He cried.

"Apologize to him too." Gibbs ordered, pointing at Tony.

"I'm sorry." He said again.

"Good." Gibbs gestured for Tony to get up and he scrambled to his feet. Gibbs stalked away and Tony practically had to run after him to catch up, confused and worried, wondering if Gibbs was going to punish him.

"Abby." Gibbs paused outside the goth shop and barked her name. She came scurrying to the front a moment later, blissed out on a mini shopping high. "Gibbs! They have these awesome purple and black buckle platforms that are on sale for half off…" She paused. Tony had the air of a puppy who had just peed on the rug and Gibbs looked ready to murder someone.

"What happened?" She asked. Gibbs grabbed her leash.

"We're leaving." He growled.

"Wha…?" Abby fell into step behind Gibbs, glancing sadly back at the shop. "What about the groceries?"

Gibbs didn't answer.

"Tony." She sidled close to him. "What happened? Are you okay? Where's the drawing pad?"

"I fucked up, Abbs." Tony whispered.