Disclaimer: I still don't own Tony or NCIS.

The (not very) long awaited sequel to Losing You is here! It would have been up sooner, but my internet's been down again.

Many many thanks to all the faithful reviewers of the previous story; I hope you like this one too.

A couple of general notes to reviewers…

1) Tony's eye colour:

If you watch Jeanne giving Tony a concussion check in Bury Your Dead in slow mo, she shines her little torch right in his eye so you can see exactly what colour it is; blue with a splodge of golden brown. So from a distance, they might appear to be green, but trust me on this, they aren't.

2) ECWS

Evil Cliffhanger Woman Syndrome. I am a severe case; I find it very hard to end chapters without cliffs. You have been warned.

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Losing You Part II: The Lost Boy

Chapter 1: A Shot in the Dark

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"You… really think Tony's alive, Gibbs?"

"Never believed he was dead, Abbs."

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Two months earlier…

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Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo stepped out of the bar and headed for his car, sorry he'd had to cut his evening short. His old roommate and frat brother Brett was in town and he'd met up with him for a beer. Unfortunately, it was a weeknight and Tony knew better than to show up at work with a hangover. Besides, he'd worked far too many traffic accidents as a cop to risk driving drunk.

As he reached into his pocket for his keys, what Tony dubbed his 'copdar' alerted him that he was being watched. He'd felt it faintly earlier, on his way to the bar, but now his instincts were screaming danger.

Tony's head went up like a startled deer, every sense on the alert. His hand went instinctively to his shoulder holster and he drew his gun; but there was nothing to aim at.

His keen eyes scanned the shadows for something to shoot while he strained his ears for the faintest sound.

He picked up a faint click and a glint of shining metal in the darkness and then there was a sharp pain in his chest, a sensation of falling and… nothing.

He was completely unaware of the black clad figure that removed the tranquilliser dart from just over his heart before snagging his weapon and keys and stuffing him into the passenger seat of his own vehicle.

The car roared into life and the stranger drove away, Tony out cold beside him.

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When Tony came around, he was alone in a tiny concrete room, tied to a chair with a fluorescent light shining in his eyes. His chest still hurt where the dart had hit and he had a headache, but he didn't think that he was seriously injured. The only other furniture was a table with a few everyday items scattered across it; a biro, a pencil, some duct tape and a notebook.

"Well, this is another fine mess you've got yourself into, Anthony," he said to himself, testing his bonds. That explained the duct tape; his hands and feet had been taped together and then to the spine of the office chair.

"Damn, Gibbs is gonna be so pissed," he muttered. "If I end up in the ER again this year I'll get more than a smack on the head."

Tony wriggled in the chair, curving his spine so he was slouching further and further down. He was grateful that he was pretty flexible (since dating that tantric yoga instructor) when he managed to get his belt between his teeth. With some difficulty and significant drool he undid the buckle and yanked out the small blade he kept concealed there. With a flick of his head, he tossed it away and then pushed himself back upright.

"Thing was worth every cent," he said, satisfied, getting a foot on the floor and starting to rock the chair. "Gotta love Rule 9."

The chair tumbled over with a crash. Tony didn't bother to wait and see if the noise had disturbed anyone; he squirmed around on the floor until a questing hand found the knife. After only a few seconds manipulation, he managed to get the blade to the tape and sawed away until he could pull free. Tony repeated the process with his ankles and then scrambled to his feet, rubbing at his wrists to restore circulation. He moved behind the door and listened intently for a moment before making a quick inventory. His gun, holster, badge, wallet and cell phone were gone. No surprises there. He swiftly checked out the cell and then began to examine the door itself.

"Oh, c'mon; how dumb are these people?" He asked, seeing that the door's hinges were on the inside. Improvising hammer and chisel with a broken chair leg and his knife, Tony quickly managed to snap the hinge pins so he could lift the whole door out of its frame.

Cautiously, he stepped out, knife at the ready, into a round of applause.

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Let me know what you thought…