Epilogue
Here's the last chapter of my Tony!SEAL 'verse. I hope you enjoy it.
Epilogue
Leon Vance eyed the report with a sour expression; it was vague, disjointed, and redacted. He wasn’t pleased, and the investigation he was going to initiate was going to raise a stink. He wasn’t sure what made him angrier: the fact that they still weren’t sure who had brought Gibbs into this mess, or the fact that both missions the team had been given were, as Tony said, “A fucked-up mess from the starting gun.” He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.
He began his campaign by calling Captain McKinley and asking, in a rather frighteningly polite tone of voice, “So … just exactly what the fuck did someone think they were doing? I’d really like to know how one op can turn into another and both be fucked up.”
McKinley sighed. “Me too. And I do intend to find out.” He hung up and started the investigation. He was sure that he was going to lose out on this Charlie Foxtrot; he just wasn’t sure how. Yet.
.
Tony sighed and rubbed his face. He was finally done with his after-mission reports. “Okay, everyone, who’s not done yet?” Everyone indicated that they were done. “Great! Let’s get the flock out of here.” He collected all the reports, slapped the pile into order, and handed it all to Cos. “Here. Hand that shit in and ask if Belt has that report yet.”
“Okay. But I’ll bet you real fuckin’ money they don’t. It’s all CYA an’ FUME an’ …” He waved a hand. “I don’t know what the fuck-all. Seriously. The only reason I’m re-uppin’ is because of you.”
Tony eyed them all for a moment, then said, “After this FUBAR mess, I’m seriously considering resigning my commission.” (Note: Officers don’t have to re-up. They’re in until they resign their commissions, retire, or get kicked out.) He frowned for a moment, then said, “Vote time. Who’s for not?” Every hand went up. “Okay. When we get the paperwork, you all refuse.” Dean, Cos, and Remy all nodded. “I’m not even going into the reserves if I can get out of it. I do not want a recall.”
Remy offered, “We all got offers … elsewhere.”
“Take ‘em.”
They all took off for the hospital where Gibbs was undergoing testing to determine how bad his bad knee was now.
It didn’t take them long to sign in and get to Gibbs’ room.
“Hey! Look good,” Tony grinned at a very disgruntled-looking Gibbs. “What’s up?”
“Not much. I’m still waiting on the doc to show up with his results. And I’m fuckin’ bored.” Gibbs picked at the cotton blanket pulled up to his waist.
“That’s not good.” Tony dug into his pocket, waggled a pack of cards while sing-songing, “I brought cards.”
They settled in to play five-card stud until the nurses threw them out for being too rowdy. Gibbs snorted, reminded Tony that he owed him twenty bucks, and let them go. He was tired still, and his knee hurt.
.
NCIS Director Leon Vance pulled the dignity of his office around himself, then entered the conference room. “Okay. What the fuckin’ hell have you numbnuts been doing with my men?”
Lieutenant Sam Brown sighed. He’d known that this was not going to go well. “I know. I’ve investigated everything, and it’s just a series of small mistakes and miscommunications that snowballed into a giant cluster fuck. Not mentioning any names, as they are all under investigation for negligence. So … the captain that recalled Gibbs didn’t check to see how old he is. He’s been busted down two ranks. The CIA agent who was supposed to investigate for the original op missed a couple of significant communiqués, but caught things in time. He passed the ‘use of resources’ report on to someone else, who decided that AJ’s group was perfect for the op they actually went on… which they were… perfect for, I mean. But he didn’t follow up, so no one knew that they’d cleared out until after their agent was dead. Finding that body was a nasty shock, and seeing the video was even nastier. So… all in all… I’ve never seen a more fucked-up mess in my military career. Heads are rolling all over the place. Everyone on this mission is getting double hazardous duty pay. Not that that actually makes anything better.” He handed Vance a folder then finished, “I’d say that all four SEALs will quit. None of them has more than thirty days to re-up, and I expect them to run those days out with leave time.”
Vance rubbed his face. “I don’t know what to say. I’m glad we didn’t lose any of them, but I think you’re right. I’ll let them know that they all have jobs here if they want.”
“Good. We’re all just sick over this, and there’s going to be some changes made in the way we go about assigning missions or even accepting them.” Belt gathered up some files, slapped them into some sort of order, then handed them to Vance. “If you’ll see that each person gets the file with his name on it, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”
“Got it. Welcome. Now get the fuck out of my building.” Vance’s grin showed that there were no hard feelings.
“Gone.” Belt nodded, then just left. He was going to get drunk and try to deal with this mess. He expected his superior and friend Rafe to join him.
After Belt left Leon handed the folders over to Cynthia and told her, “See that DiNozzo, Cale, Richter, and Devereaux get these please.”
Cynthia nodded, “As soon as they come in. Gibbs is still in the hospital and will be for a bit still.” She nibbled at her lip for a moment then asked, “He still able to go into the field?”
Vance shook his head. “No. I gave him a waiver as long as he could pass the physical. He’s never gonna pass it again. I already spoke to his doctor. Man said he’ll walk okay, even run, but that knee is fragile now and bound to give up at the worst possible time. So… no field for him.”
Cynthia frowned. “That’s going to go over like a lead balloon.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why, when Gibbs comes in for certification, I’m makin’ someone else tell him.”
Cynthia gave him a horrified look. “Oh, No! You are not! I’m taking a week’s vacation starting the day before he gets back. And you know I’m owed enough that HR will okay it.”
Vance gave her a betrayed look. “Chicken.”
“Bawk! Bawk!” And with that she grinned and left.
.
The Navy, being what it was, efficiently processed four requests for all outstanding leave of any kind to be applied to the remaining days of enlistment and paid out for the rest. In just two days, all four SEALs were no longer enlisted.
They headed for the hospital to show them to Gibbs.
Gibbs looked up from the magazine he was trying to read. “Hello. What’s the story?”
“We all resigned. I’m done.” Tony jerked his thumb at the others. “They’re done. We’ve all got other options.”
“Have you even looked at your separation papers?” Gibbs frowned, knowing that they probably hadn’t.
They all opened their packages and started reading.
Tony announced, “Well, mine’s a standard separation package. Promoted one grade, got a check for the difference between days used to finish out my enlistment and days owed. Usual shit.”
The others all had the same thing and traded papers around just to make sure.
Dean looked at his separation papers one last time then shrugged. “Well, that’s that. I’m now a civilian.”
Gibbs scoffed. “Nope, you’re now ex-Navy SEALs. There’s a difference.” He rubbed his knee. It was still a bit stiff and sore. “Like they say, ‘you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marine out of the man.’” He smirked. “Or in this case, Navy.”
He was immediately pelted with a variety of soft projectiles which he returned, and his aim was better.
A nurse popped in to call them to order. “Okay. That’s enough. Do not damage, bend, fold, spindle, or mutilate my patient.(What happened to “spindle”? ;D I don’t think most people even know what a spindle is anymore. ) He’s going home at 1500. I suppose one of you menaces is driving him?”
Gibbs pointed to Tony. “Him. When’s the doctor comin’ in t’ talk to me?”
“Soon.” She gave everyone a last warning glare and walked out. “I’ll have your discharge papers ready.”
.
Ducky eased the drawer closed, then rubbed the small of his back. It ached like an abscessed tooth, and felt like someone was stabbing him with an ice pick when he bent over. How did he know what being stabbed with an ice pick felt like? He’d tell if you asked.
Jimmy walked in just in time to see him. “Back acting up again?”
“Yes, dear boy. I’m afraid I’m feeling every one of my years lately.”
“Oh, poo. You’re not that old.”
“I am. I’m every day of eighty-three.”
Jimmy gave him a wide-eyed look. “Nooo. Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m considering retiring.” He sighed, “But what would I do?”
Jimmy snorted, “Play bridge, read all those journal articles you’ve been putting off, write rebuttals to same, write articles of your own, write a book… or three or four, consult. Why… you could make several books of all the stories you tell. And there’s that research you wanted to do on DNA.”
Ducky gave Jimmy a dazed look. “Oh, my. I didn’t realize I had so many things I was thinking of doing.”
Jimmy added, “And you’d have more time to keep all of us in line.” He smirked. “We are a wild bunch… or so Jet says.”
“Dear, dear. I do think I’ll turn in my resignation fairly soon. And it had occurred to me that you’re more than competent and I’m always available for a quick consult.”
Jimmy decided to strike while the iron was hot. He didn’t want to get rid of Ducky, he loved his friend, but the job was beginning to wear on him. “I’ll start the paperwork right now.”
Ducky nodded. “You do that. Thank you.” He turned in his chair and opened a file on his computer, then started to type.
Jimmy went to his desk to begin the paperwork for Ducky’s retirement. He’d been expecting this for a while, Ducky had been using sick leave and leave with pay to cut back to a four-day week for months now. He was almost out of sick leave and had cut his leave with pay in half. He also knew that Ducky had been using that time to catch up on journal articles and to write rebuttals of some of the more suspect statements.
.
Ducky settled at his desk to drink tea and have a good think. It was way past time he retired. Jimmy was an excellent ME in his own right and deserved to take over before he, Ducky, was beyond helping him at need.
He was going to sign the papers when Jimmy brought them to him. Vance was going to have a fit, but as AJ said, “Tough.” He was tired; he wanted to do a few things before he was physically unable. He also knew that he had companionship to last him the rest of his life. People who would care for him and help him to accomplish the things he wanted to.
He settled back to finish his tea, satisfied with his decision.
.
AJ knocked on the doorframe. “Hey! Ready to go?”
Jet looked up. “More than. I signed all the damn papers and fuck me if I’m being wheeled out of this hell hole.” He got up and limped to the door; Dean, Cos, Remy, Tim, and Jimmy were standing in the hall. Ducky cheerfully waved to him from a wheelchair.
Cos shook his head. “Bet you are.”
Ducky smirked. “Race you. But only in a chair.”
Remy pushed the chair back and forth a bit. “Get in. AJ’s pushin’ Ducky, I’m pushin’ you.”
Jet laughed a bit. “And the staff is going to let us get away with this?”
“Who’s gonna stop us? We’re bigger than they are … an’ faster.”
Jet gave up; he was going out on wheels, one way or another. He got into the chair, said, “Oscar Mike,” and braced himself.
It was a good thing he had, as AJ and Remy really did race to the door. Ducky cheered them on with loud whoops and some rather inventive swearing. Nurses and aides just got out of the way with smiles. They scrambled out the door before security could react, piled into AJ’s Hummer, and left in a cloud of dust, laughter, and bad words.
As he drove, AJ announced, “Everyone is coming to Ducky’s for supper. Jet, you’re stayin’ until Ducky gives the all clear. I know you’re supposed to report tomorrow for eval, but we all know Ducky is the one to do it, so we could get that out of the way tonight.”
Jet shrugged. “Don’t care … tonight … tomorrow … whatever.”
Since everyone was going to Ducky’s anyway, they all just rode to the house together. They could get home to GHQ easily, as there was always an odd vehicle at either place that belonged at the other.
When they arrived it was easy to get Jet into the house: he just crutched it. He had to admit that having Remy on one side and AJ on the other made him feel better. He resented the fact that he was still on crutches, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and it took him longer to recover. He knew he was going to be a bear until he was off crutches and vowed to be careful not to be too much of a grump.
It wasn’t long before everyone was seated in the kitchen, everyone except AJ and Remy at the big farmhouse table. AJ and Remy were making homemade pizza, baked tortellini in tomato/basil sauce, and tossed salad.
Remy paused for a moment. “Abby coming?”
“No. She’s working a hard case with Balboa’s team. She called about an hour ago.”
“Well, shit.” Jet had news and he just wanted this mess over with. “I’ll have to tell her later.”
“Tell her what?” Dean frowned. “It’s bad fuckin’ news, right?”
“Sort of. I’ll tell you all when the food’s done. It’s not that bad, so take a damn pill.”
AJ happily set Remy to making crusts. “And don’t make them eighteen inches, they turn into crackers. Try about twelve to fourteen inches. I’m figuring on one apiece.”
Remy grinned. “You got it. We all get the same stuff?”
“That’s the plan. Except for Ducky… he hates anchovies.”
So Remy began pressing out the dough into fourteen-inch circles. He’d once offered to toss them, but AJ had threatened to take him to the mats if he did. That was when he found that there were two schools of pizza making: tossers and pushers. The difference in techniques made a completely different type of crust. Tossers’ crust was doughy and bready, pushers’ crusts were tender and crisp. Tossing breaks the air bubbles in the dough caused by the rising yeast, while pressing doesn’t.
Dean got up to help just for something to do; conversation had veered into a subject he wasn’t interested in. “What do you need?”
AJ pointed with his chin. “Water’s boiling. Put a handful of salt in it, then all three boxes of pasta. We need to get that workin’ or the bake won’t be done.”
Dean nodded. “Got it. Why don’t I make the sauce while I’m at it?”
“Okay. You can’t mess this up. I hope.”
Dean was a fair cook and getting better, Jet insisted that everyone be able to cook. He wasn’t about to worry about whether his dinner was going to be edible or not.
AJ grinned at him, and Dean gave him the finger. “Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
That being sorted to their satisfaction, Dean dumped the pasta into the boiling water, then put a gallon stock pot on. “Okay. All those cans of tomatoes?”
“Yeah, and all that garlic. There’s an onion over there somewhere. And the immersion blender.”
“On it.”
Dean chopped the onion and garlic, then tossed them into the pot with a bit of oil. It wasn’t long before they started to soften and give off their wonderful smells. While the onion and garlic softened, Dean stirred the pasta, then checked it for doneness. He didn’t want it completely cooked, as it would finish in the oven.
AJ blinked at the spoon that appeared in front of his face. “Okay?”
“Taste. I think it needs more salt.”
AJ tasted. “Right. It does. Sometimes those canned tomatoes are just … no idea … like they change the recipe randomly.”
Jet glanced at the cans. “I think it’s because we get what’s on sale. Different brands.”
“Okay. That makes sense. Dean, add a little more pepper too.”
Dean made the adjustments then tasted again. “Good. So, I add the basil at the last minute?”
“Right before you put it in the dish. And make sure to put plenty of cheese on top.”
“Got it.”
Dean took the pot to the sink and poured the contents through the strainer, then dumped the pasta back into the pot. He brought the sauce to the sink to contain any mess he made pouring the sauce over the pasta.
After mixing it thoroughly Dean took a moment to butter three casserole dishes before returning to his pasta to add the shredded basil. After another good mix he divided his pasta between the dishes then put mounds of shredded mozzarella on top. They usually didn’t put on the cheese until the casserole was done but, in this case, the pasta would finish in the time it took to melt the cheese.
AJ meanwhile was making the pizzas. He was glad that Ducky had a range instead of a stovetop as it had two ovens and a salamander. He wasn’t fond of doing pizza in a salamander, but one oven was going to be full of casserole dishes. He stopped what he was doing to check one oven.
“Remy, be real careful, but see if you can’t move the racks around so that all the casseroles fit on one rack. If not, figure out something so I can get half the pizzas in the ovens at one time.”
“‘K. You got it. We gon’ have good food tonight.” He eased up to AJ. “Wonder wa’ Jet gon’ say.”
AJ sighed. “I have an idea, but it’s his news to tell.”
Remy shrugged and went to move the racks. He eyed things for a moment, then said, “Could put the casseroles in the salamander?”
“Could. Just need to keep a close eye so the cheese doesn’t burn. Put it on low.”
“Got it.”
It wasn’t long before all the dough was pizza rounds. AJ checked them by eye, counting as he went. “Okay, great. Now I’m makin’ supreme, unless someone wants different.” He held up a hand. “I know you don’t like anchovies, Ducky. I’ll put a pepperoni on top of the cheese so we won’t get them mixed.”
Ducky beamed. “Excellent.”
Dean leaned over AJ to get a knife. “I know I’m supposed to tear the lettuce but there’s radishes and carrots, and some tomatoes that actually taste like tomatoes.”
Cos called. “I got them at the farmer’s market, guaranteed vine ripened. Romas.”
AJ called back, “And a good job. Nice, ripe, and not squeezed or bruised.”
It wasn’t long before the pizzas joined the casseroles in the oven.
AJ and Dean settled at the table for the fifteen minutes it would take to get everything done.
“So, Boss, wanna spill?”
Jet shrugged. “Fine. Here it is. My knee is shot. I won’t pass the physical, as I can’t make a sharp turn at a dead run anymore. Don’t know what Vance will do.”
Cos blinked then said, “But … can he just fire you?”
“No. But I’ve been on notice for years now. Agents are supposed to be out of the field at fifty-five. Vance let that slide on the condition that I pass my physical in the top five percent. I’ve been doing fine, but I’m sixty and my knee is FUBAR so… who knows? I’ve been a pain in Vance’s ass for years.”
“But what’ll you do?” Dean frowned in concern.
“Well, worse comes to worst, I’ll join Ducky in consultancy.” Jet shrugged.
AJ sighed. “Well… Shit.” He stood up to check the pizzas.
Tim sighed then said, “Abby’s gonna shit.”
“I know. But she’ll just have to deal. Things aren’t gonna change just because she doesn’t like it.” Jet frowned; everyone knew that Abby hated change and could be a bit childish about it. “I’ll talk her ‘round.”
AJ eyed the pizzas then said, “Okay… done. Cos, Dean, come get casseroles. I’ll bring the pizzas to the table myself so no one gets burned in the rush.”
Cos and Dean took a casserole each, and AJ got the last one. It was easy to bring the pizzas to the table two at a time; the salad was already on the table.
Jet glanced around the table. “Okay. Enough. No grim faces. We’re celebrating the fact that I’m out of the hospital. Beer me.” Since he was no longer on meds, he got his beer.
The rest of the meal and the cleanup were cheerful, with Ducky recounting a rather embarrassing story about a time in Wales, when he, Ducky, had been flirting with a bar maid and Jethro, drunk off his ass, had grabbed him and tried to drag him away, declaring that Ducky’s Mum wouldn’t approve. Needless to say, the barmaid had not been impressed and had proceeded to throw them both out, swearing at them in Welsh, which Jet didn’t realize until Ducky told him.
Tony told them a story about his days in RIMA. A teacher had taken a dislike to one of the nerds in his barracks. The teacher had finally had to resign when he’d been found drunk/passed out on the soccer field in nothing but his shorts. Not to mention the cucumber in an unmentionable place.
They all laughed their heads off.
Cleanup was done quickly, after which they settled in the lounge to watch TV. Tim smiled a bit smugly when everyone raved about the new surround system he’d installed.
They spent the rest of the night watching movies and eating popcorn and chips.
AJ finally stood up, stretched and announced, “I don’t know about the rest of you assholes, but I’m tired and heading up. Stay or go. Right, Ducky?”
Ducky blinked a couple of times then said, “My goodness, I must have dozed off. But you are entirely correct. Stay… go. Whatever. The rule stating that enlisted men aren’t to be required to do chores for superior officers is… null, as none of you are enlisted anymore. So…” He smiled benignly. “Good night all.”
.
The next morning was taken up with getting Gibbs to NCIS, clearing a back log of paperwork, and waiting for the meeting Vance had scheduled for just after lunch.
They were just done scarfing down sandwiches and drinks when Gibbs’ phone rang. “Yeah.” Gibbs tilted his head. “Ducky said.” He listened again then hung up. “Vance wants us now.”
So they all trooped up the stairs and entered Vance’s office.
He was seated at his private conference table with a pile of files in front of him.
“Come take a seat. We’re waiting for Ms. Sciuto, Dr. Mallard, and Dr. Palmer. Coffee?” He flinched at the rush on his private pot.
Tony whistled shrilly. “Sit the fuck down, you idjits. Get a cup and sit. Put a cup at Jimmy’s place.” Everyone rushed to get a cup and sit except for Gibbs; he stayed out of the crazy and waited for everyone else to settle.
Tim got Jet a cup at the same time he got his.
“Thanks, Tim.”
“Welcome. Wonder what Vance wants?”
Gibbs shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough. Here’s Ducky and Jimmy.”
Jimmy glanced around, then headed for the coffee. “Ducky, you want some?”
“No, dear boy. I’ve got my bottle in my satchel.” He pulled a thermos from a messenger bag and brandished it.
“Okay. Good.” Jimmy looked at the group. “Abby?”
“Here I am. Just finished setting my babies up; they’ll be working while I… do… What?” She plopped down in a chair, then sucked on the straw inserted into a huge cup of Caf-Pow.
Vance tapped the table to attract their attention. “Now. Everyone have a drink?” Various nods and noises indicated that they all did. “I’m going to do this all at once … rip off the Band-aid, so to speak. And Ms. Sciuto, no explosions. This is all a done deal.”
Abby started to say something, but Jet frowned her down with a shake of his head. She scowled, but settled to listen.
“All right then. Ms. Sciuto, your job won’t change significantly, so there’s that. Dr. Palmer will be taking over for Dr. Mallard who is retiring, effective in two weeks. He’ll still be available for consultations and welcome at any time. Gibbs is removed from the field, also effective immediately. Sorry, Jethro, but I’m not taking chances with your life or anyone else's. You’ll be taking over cold cases; if a case becomes active, you’ll be lead… from a desk. No arguments from anyone, Ms. Sciuto.”
He was right to call her out, as Abby was getting ready to have one of her tizzies. Gibbs just shook his head at her. “Calm, Abby. I’m out of the field. My knee won’t do any more. It’s FUBAR. Ducky and my orthopedist both agree. I don’t have any problems walking or even jogging, but running full out and making a sharp turn will put me on a cane permanently. So hush.”
Abby pouted, but nodded. “Okay. Sorry… sorry. I just… well, we sure don’t want you on a cane. You’ll just smack people with it.” Everyone snickered at that.
Vance called them to order again. “Okay, okay. Now. All the SEAL team refused to re-up, so we’re hiring all of you… you already signed the paperwork?” He glanced at Cos, Dean, and Remy; they nodded. “Good, good. There’s going to be a bit of a shakeup in the MCRT. Things are heating up all over the world, so… Gibbs, you get your pick of one SEAL; not DiNozzo. You also get two probies, be nice to them. I need trained agents and you’ll do. DiNozzo… you’re taking over the MCRT with McGee as your SFA, and Devereaux. Yes, the team will have two. You’ll also have probies to train. That way you can split into two teams or take on a big case more easily. It will be up to DiNozzo to assign agents to splinter teams at need. Any questions?”
There didn’t seem to be any, so Vance handed out packets of all sorts of paperwork to be signed. It didn’t take long to handle that and get everything back to him.
Tim smiled, just a bit, when he got the nod to SFA; even if he was sharing with Remy. He didn’t mind a bit, as he and the New Orleans native were good friends.
Remy poked Tim. “Y’all gonna he’p me?”
“You bet. We’ll do great.”
Gibbs and Tony shared a smile at overhearing that.
Abby just sighed. “Well, we’re all together, healthy, and working. Things are good.”
Everyone got up and sort of wandered around, asking questions and offering congratulations to each other.
Vance looked at the milling group, smiled, then announced, “The end of the story. Get the fuck out a’ my office and get to work.”
THE END
You’ve tied up all the loose ends beautifully. Nobody should have anything to complain about, because nobody died, and everybody is reasonably content with the way everything turned out. [Thanks.]
Epilogue
Leon Vance eyed the report with a sour expression; it was vague, disjointed, and redacted. He wasn’t pleased, and the investigation he was going to initiate was going to raise a stink. He wasn’t sure what made him angrier: the fact that they still weren’t sure who had brought Gibbs into this mess, or the fact that both missions the team had been given were, as Tony said, “A fucked-up mess from the starting gun.” He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.
He began his campaign by calling Captain McKinley and asking, in a rather frighteningly polite tone of voice, “So … just exactly what the fuck did someone think they were doing? I’d really like to know how one op can turn into another and both be fucked up.”
McKinley sighed. “Me too. And I do intend to find out.” He hung up and started the investigation. He was sure that he was going to lose out on this Charlie Foxtrot; he just wasn’t sure how. Yet.
.
Tony sighed and rubbed his face. He was finally done with his after-mission reports. “Okay, everyone, who’s not done yet?” Everyone indicated that they were done. “Great! Let’s get the flock out of here.” He collected all the reports, slapped the pile into order, and handed it all to Cos. “Here. Hand that shit in and ask if Belt has that report yet.”
“Okay. But I’ll bet you real fuckin’ money they don’t. It’s all CYA an’ FUME an’ …” He waved a hand. “I don’t know what the fuck-all. Seriously. The only reason I’m re-uppin’ is because of you.”
Tony eyed them all for a moment, then said, “After this FUBAR mess, I’m seriously considering resigning my commission.” (Note: Officers don’t have to re-up. They’re in until they resign their commissions, retire, or get kicked out.) He frowned for a moment, then said, “Vote time. Who’s for not?” Every hand went up. “Okay. When we get the paperwork, you all refuse.” Dean, Cos, and Remy all nodded. “I’m not even going into the reserves if I can get out of it. I do not want a recall.”
Remy offered, “We all got offers … elsewhere.”
“Take ‘em.”
They all took off for the hospital where Gibbs was undergoing testing to determine how bad his bad knee was now.
It didn’t take them long to sign in and get to Gibbs’ room.
“Hey! Look good,” Tony grinned at a very disgruntled-looking Gibbs. “What’s up?”
“Not much. I’m still waiting on the doc to show up with his results. And I’m fuckin’ bored.” Gibbs picked at the cotton blanket pulled up to his waist.
“That’s not good.” Tony dug into his pocket, waggled a pack of cards while sing-songing, “I brought cards.”
They settled in to play five-card stud until the nurses threw them out for being too rowdy. Gibbs snorted, reminded Tony that he owed him twenty bucks, and let them go. He was tired still, and his knee hurt.
.
NCIS Director Leon Vance pulled the dignity of his office around himself, then entered the conference room. “Okay. What the fuckin’ hell have you numbnuts been doing with my men?”
Lieutenant Sam Brown sighed. He’d known that this was not going to go well. “I know. I’ve investigated everything, and it’s just a series of small mistakes and miscommunications that snowballed into a giant cluster fuck. Not mentioning any names, as they are all under investigation for negligence. So … the captain that recalled Gibbs didn’t check to see how old he is. He’s been busted down two ranks. The CIA agent who was supposed to investigate for the original op missed a couple of significant communiqués, but caught things in time. He passed the ‘use of resources’ report on to someone else, who decided that AJ’s group was perfect for the op they actually went on… which they were… perfect for, I mean. But he didn’t follow up, so no one knew that they’d cleared out until after their agent was dead. Finding that body was a nasty shock, and seeing the video was even nastier. So… all in all… I’ve never seen a more fucked-up mess in my military career. Heads are rolling all over the place. Everyone on this mission is getting double hazardous duty pay. Not that that actually makes anything better.” He handed Vance a folder then finished, “I’d say that all four SEALs will quit. None of them has more than thirty days to re-up, and I expect them to run those days out with leave time.”
Vance rubbed his face. “I don’t know what to say. I’m glad we didn’t lose any of them, but I think you’re right. I’ll let them know that they all have jobs here if they want.”
“Good. We’re all just sick over this, and there’s going to be some changes made in the way we go about assigning missions or even accepting them.” Belt gathered up some files, slapped them into some sort of order, then handed them to Vance. “If you’ll see that each person gets the file with his name on it, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”
“Got it. Welcome. Now get the fuck out of my building.” Vance’s grin showed that there were no hard feelings.
“Gone.” Belt nodded, then just left. He was going to get drunk and try to deal with this mess. He expected his superior and friend Rafe to join him.
After Belt left Leon handed the folders over to Cynthia and told her, “See that DiNozzo, Cale, Richter, and Devereaux get these please.”
Cynthia nodded, “As soon as they come in. Gibbs is still in the hospital and will be for a bit still.” She nibbled at her lip for a moment then asked, “He still able to go into the field?”
Vance shook his head. “No. I gave him a waiver as long as he could pass the physical. He’s never gonna pass it again. I already spoke to his doctor. Man said he’ll walk okay, even run, but that knee is fragile now and bound to give up at the worst possible time. So… no field for him.”
Cynthia frowned. “That’s going to go over like a lead balloon.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why, when Gibbs comes in for certification, I’m makin’ someone else tell him.”
Cynthia gave him a horrified look. “Oh, No! You are not! I’m taking a week’s vacation starting the day before he gets back. And you know I’m owed enough that HR will okay it.”
Vance gave her a betrayed look. “Chicken.”
“Bawk! Bawk!” And with that she grinned and left.
.
The Navy, being what it was, efficiently processed four requests for all outstanding leave of any kind to be applied to the remaining days of enlistment and paid out for the rest. In just two days, all four SEALs were no longer enlisted.
They headed for the hospital to show them to Gibbs.
Gibbs looked up from the magazine he was trying to read. “Hello. What’s the story?”
“We all resigned. I’m done.” Tony jerked his thumb at the others. “They’re done. We’ve all got other options.”
“Have you even looked at your separation papers?” Gibbs frowned, knowing that they probably hadn’t.
They all opened their packages and started reading.
Tony announced, “Well, mine’s a standard separation package. Promoted one grade, got a check for the difference between days used to finish out my enlistment and days owed. Usual shit.”
The others all had the same thing and traded papers around just to make sure.
Dean looked at his separation papers one last time then shrugged. “Well, that’s that. I’m now a civilian.”
Gibbs scoffed. “Nope, you’re now ex-Navy SEALs. There’s a difference.” He rubbed his knee. It was still a bit stiff and sore. “Like they say, ‘you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marine out of the man.’” He smirked. “Or in this case, Navy.”
He was immediately pelted with a variety of soft projectiles which he returned, and his aim was better.
A nurse popped in to call them to order. “Okay. That’s enough. Do not damage, bend, fold, spindle, or mutilate my patient.(What happened to “spindle”? ;D I don’t think most people even know what a spindle is anymore. ) He’s going home at 1500. I suppose one of you menaces is driving him?”
Gibbs pointed to Tony. “Him. When’s the doctor comin’ in t’ talk to me?”
“Soon.” She gave everyone a last warning glare and walked out. “I’ll have your discharge papers ready.”
.
Ducky eased the drawer closed, then rubbed the small of his back. It ached like an abscessed tooth, and felt like someone was stabbing him with an ice pick when he bent over. How did he know what being stabbed with an ice pick felt like? He’d tell if you asked.
Jimmy walked in just in time to see him. “Back acting up again?”
“Yes, dear boy. I’m afraid I’m feeling every one of my years lately.”
“Oh, poo. You’re not that old.”
“I am. I’m every day of eighty-three.”
Jimmy gave him a wide-eyed look. “Nooo. Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m considering retiring.” He sighed, “But what would I do?”
Jimmy snorted, “Play bridge, read all those journal articles you’ve been putting off, write rebuttals to same, write articles of your own, write a book… or three or four, consult. Why… you could make several books of all the stories you tell. And there’s that research you wanted to do on DNA.”
Ducky gave Jimmy a dazed look. “Oh, my. I didn’t realize I had so many things I was thinking of doing.”
Jimmy added, “And you’d have more time to keep all of us in line.” He smirked. “We are a wild bunch… or so Jet says.”
“Dear, dear. I do think I’ll turn in my resignation fairly soon. And it had occurred to me that you’re more than competent and I’m always available for a quick consult.”
Jimmy decided to strike while the iron was hot. He didn’t want to get rid of Ducky, he loved his friend, but the job was beginning to wear on him. “I’ll start the paperwork right now.”
Ducky nodded. “You do that. Thank you.” He turned in his chair and opened a file on his computer, then started to type.
Jimmy went to his desk to begin the paperwork for Ducky’s retirement. He’d been expecting this for a while, Ducky had been using sick leave and leave with pay to cut back to a four-day week for months now. He was almost out of sick leave and had cut his leave with pay in half. He also knew that Ducky had been using that time to catch up on journal articles and to write rebuttals of some of the more suspect statements.
.
Ducky settled at his desk to drink tea and have a good think. It was way past time he retired. Jimmy was an excellent ME in his own right and deserved to take over before he, Ducky, was beyond helping him at need.
He was going to sign the papers when Jimmy brought them to him. Vance was going to have a fit, but as AJ said, “Tough.” He was tired; he wanted to do a few things before he was physically unable. He also knew that he had companionship to last him the rest of his life. People who would care for him and help him to accomplish the things he wanted to.
He settled back to finish his tea, satisfied with his decision.
.
AJ knocked on the doorframe. “Hey! Ready to go?”
Jet looked up. “More than. I signed all the damn papers and fuck me if I’m being wheeled out of this hell hole.” He got up and limped to the door; Dean, Cos, Remy, Tim, and Jimmy were standing in the hall. Ducky cheerfully waved to him from a wheelchair.
Cos shook his head. “Bet you are.”
Ducky smirked. “Race you. But only in a chair.”
Remy pushed the chair back and forth a bit. “Get in. AJ’s pushin’ Ducky, I’m pushin’ you.”
Jet laughed a bit. “And the staff is going to let us get away with this?”
“Who’s gonna stop us? We’re bigger than they are … an’ faster.”
Jet gave up; he was going out on wheels, one way or another. He got into the chair, said, “Oscar Mike,” and braced himself.
It was a good thing he had, as AJ and Remy really did race to the door. Ducky cheered them on with loud whoops and some rather inventive swearing. Nurses and aides just got out of the way with smiles. They scrambled out the door before security could react, piled into AJ’s Hummer, and left in a cloud of dust, laughter, and bad words.
As he drove, AJ announced, “Everyone is coming to Ducky’s for supper. Jet, you’re stayin’ until Ducky gives the all clear. I know you’re supposed to report tomorrow for eval, but we all know Ducky is the one to do it, so we could get that out of the way tonight.”
Jet shrugged. “Don’t care … tonight … tomorrow … whatever.”
Since everyone was going to Ducky’s anyway, they all just rode to the house together. They could get home to GHQ easily, as there was always an odd vehicle at either place that belonged at the other.
When they arrived it was easy to get Jet into the house: he just crutched it. He had to admit that having Remy on one side and AJ on the other made him feel better. He resented the fact that he was still on crutches, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and it took him longer to recover. He knew he was going to be a bear until he was off crutches and vowed to be careful not to be too much of a grump.
It wasn’t long before everyone was seated in the kitchen, everyone except AJ and Remy at the big farmhouse table. AJ and Remy were making homemade pizza, baked tortellini in tomato/basil sauce, and tossed salad.
Remy paused for a moment. “Abby coming?”
“No. She’s working a hard case with Balboa’s team. She called about an hour ago.”
“Well, shit.” Jet had news and he just wanted this mess over with. “I’ll have to tell her later.”
“Tell her what?” Dean frowned. “It’s bad fuckin’ news, right?”
“Sort of. I’ll tell you all when the food’s done. It’s not that bad, so take a damn pill.”
AJ happily set Remy to making crusts. “And don’t make them eighteen inches, they turn into crackers. Try about twelve to fourteen inches. I’m figuring on one apiece.”
Remy grinned. “You got it. We all get the same stuff?”
“That’s the plan. Except for Ducky… he hates anchovies.”
So Remy began pressing out the dough into fourteen-inch circles. He’d once offered to toss them, but AJ had threatened to take him to the mats if he did. That was when he found that there were two schools of pizza making: tossers and pushers. The difference in techniques made a completely different type of crust. Tossers’ crust was doughy and bready, pushers’ crusts were tender and crisp. Tossing breaks the air bubbles in the dough caused by the rising yeast, while pressing doesn’t.
Dean got up to help just for something to do; conversation had veered into a subject he wasn’t interested in. “What do you need?”
AJ pointed with his chin. “Water’s boiling. Put a handful of salt in it, then all three boxes of pasta. We need to get that workin’ or the bake won’t be done.”
Dean nodded. “Got it. Why don’t I make the sauce while I’m at it?”
“Okay. You can’t mess this up. I hope.”
Dean was a fair cook and getting better, Jet insisted that everyone be able to cook. He wasn’t about to worry about whether his dinner was going to be edible or not.
AJ grinned at him, and Dean gave him the finger. “Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
That being sorted to their satisfaction, Dean dumped the pasta into the boiling water, then put a gallon stock pot on. “Okay. All those cans of tomatoes?”
“Yeah, and all that garlic. There’s an onion over there somewhere. And the immersion blender.”
“On it.”
Dean chopped the onion and garlic, then tossed them into the pot with a bit of oil. It wasn’t long before they started to soften and give off their wonderful smells. While the onion and garlic softened, Dean stirred the pasta, then checked it for doneness. He didn’t want it completely cooked, as it would finish in the oven.
AJ blinked at the spoon that appeared in front of his face. “Okay?”
“Taste. I think it needs more salt.”
AJ tasted. “Right. It does. Sometimes those canned tomatoes are just … no idea … like they change the recipe randomly.”
Jet glanced at the cans. “I think it’s because we get what’s on sale. Different brands.”
“Okay. That makes sense. Dean, add a little more pepper too.”
Dean made the adjustments then tasted again. “Good. So, I add the basil at the last minute?”
“Right before you put it in the dish. And make sure to put plenty of cheese on top.”
“Got it.”
Dean took the pot to the sink and poured the contents through the strainer, then dumped the pasta back into the pot. He brought the sauce to the sink to contain any mess he made pouring the sauce over the pasta.
After mixing it thoroughly Dean took a moment to butter three casserole dishes before returning to his pasta to add the shredded basil. After another good mix he divided his pasta between the dishes then put mounds of shredded mozzarella on top. They usually didn’t put on the cheese until the casserole was done but, in this case, the pasta would finish in the time it took to melt the cheese.
AJ meanwhile was making the pizzas. He was glad that Ducky had a range instead of a stovetop as it had two ovens and a salamander. He wasn’t fond of doing pizza in a salamander, but one oven was going to be full of casserole dishes. He stopped what he was doing to check one oven.
“Remy, be real careful, but see if you can’t move the racks around so that all the casseroles fit on one rack. If not, figure out something so I can get half the pizzas in the ovens at one time.”
“‘K. You got it. We gon’ have good food tonight.” He eased up to AJ. “Wonder wa’ Jet gon’ say.”
AJ sighed. “I have an idea, but it’s his news to tell.”
Remy shrugged and went to move the racks. He eyed things for a moment, then said, “Could put the casseroles in the salamander?”
“Could. Just need to keep a close eye so the cheese doesn’t burn. Put it on low.”
“Got it.”
It wasn’t long before all the dough was pizza rounds. AJ checked them by eye, counting as he went. “Okay, great. Now I’m makin’ supreme, unless someone wants different.” He held up a hand. “I know you don’t like anchovies, Ducky. I’ll put a pepperoni on top of the cheese so we won’t get them mixed.”
Ducky beamed. “Excellent.”
Dean leaned over AJ to get a knife. “I know I’m supposed to tear the lettuce but there’s radishes and carrots, and some tomatoes that actually taste like tomatoes.”
Cos called. “I got them at the farmer’s market, guaranteed vine ripened. Romas.”
AJ called back, “And a good job. Nice, ripe, and not squeezed or bruised.”
It wasn’t long before the pizzas joined the casseroles in the oven.
AJ and Dean settled at the table for the fifteen minutes it would take to get everything done.
“So, Boss, wanna spill?”
Jet shrugged. “Fine. Here it is. My knee is shot. I won’t pass the physical, as I can’t make a sharp turn at a dead run anymore. Don’t know what Vance will do.”
Cos blinked then said, “But … can he just fire you?”
“No. But I’ve been on notice for years now. Agents are supposed to be out of the field at fifty-five. Vance let that slide on the condition that I pass my physical in the top five percent. I’ve been doing fine, but I’m sixty and my knee is FUBAR so… who knows? I’ve been a pain in Vance’s ass for years.”
“But what’ll you do?” Dean frowned in concern.
“Well, worse comes to worst, I’ll join Ducky in consultancy.” Jet shrugged.
AJ sighed. “Well… Shit.” He stood up to check the pizzas.
Tim sighed then said, “Abby’s gonna shit.”
“I know. But she’ll just have to deal. Things aren’t gonna change just because she doesn’t like it.” Jet frowned; everyone knew that Abby hated change and could be a bit childish about it. “I’ll talk her ‘round.”
AJ eyed the pizzas then said, “Okay… done. Cos, Dean, come get casseroles. I’ll bring the pizzas to the table myself so no one gets burned in the rush.”
Cos and Dean took a casserole each, and AJ got the last one. It was easy to bring the pizzas to the table two at a time; the salad was already on the table.
Jet glanced around the table. “Okay. Enough. No grim faces. We’re celebrating the fact that I’m out of the hospital. Beer me.” Since he was no longer on meds, he got his beer.
The rest of the meal and the cleanup were cheerful, with Ducky recounting a rather embarrassing story about a time in Wales, when he, Ducky, had been flirting with a bar maid and Jethro, drunk off his ass, had grabbed him and tried to drag him away, declaring that Ducky’s Mum wouldn’t approve. Needless to say, the barmaid had not been impressed and had proceeded to throw them both out, swearing at them in Welsh, which Jet didn’t realize until Ducky told him.
Tony told them a story about his days in RIMA. A teacher had taken a dislike to one of the nerds in his barracks. The teacher had finally had to resign when he’d been found drunk/passed out on the soccer field in nothing but his shorts. Not to mention the cucumber in an unmentionable place.
They all laughed their heads off.
Cleanup was done quickly, after which they settled in the lounge to watch TV. Tim smiled a bit smugly when everyone raved about the new surround system he’d installed.
They spent the rest of the night watching movies and eating popcorn and chips.
AJ finally stood up, stretched and announced, “I don’t know about the rest of you assholes, but I’m tired and heading up. Stay or go. Right, Ducky?”
Ducky blinked a couple of times then said, “My goodness, I must have dozed off. But you are entirely correct. Stay… go. Whatever. The rule stating that enlisted men aren’t to be required to do chores for superior officers is… null, as none of you are enlisted anymore. So…” He smiled benignly. “Good night all.”
.
The next morning was taken up with getting Gibbs to NCIS, clearing a back log of paperwork, and waiting for the meeting Vance had scheduled for just after lunch.
They were just done scarfing down sandwiches and drinks when Gibbs’ phone rang. “Yeah.” Gibbs tilted his head. “Ducky said.” He listened again then hung up. “Vance wants us now.”
So they all trooped up the stairs and entered Vance’s office.
He was seated at his private conference table with a pile of files in front of him.
“Come take a seat. We’re waiting for Ms. Sciuto, Dr. Mallard, and Dr. Palmer. Coffee?” He flinched at the rush on his private pot.
Tony whistled shrilly. “Sit the fuck down, you idjits. Get a cup and sit. Put a cup at Jimmy’s place.” Everyone rushed to get a cup and sit except for Gibbs; he stayed out of the crazy and waited for everyone else to settle.
Tim got Jet a cup at the same time he got his.
“Thanks, Tim.”
“Welcome. Wonder what Vance wants?”
Gibbs shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough. Here’s Ducky and Jimmy.”
Jimmy glanced around, then headed for the coffee. “Ducky, you want some?”
“No, dear boy. I’ve got my bottle in my satchel.” He pulled a thermos from a messenger bag and brandished it.
“Okay. Good.” Jimmy looked at the group. “Abby?”
“Here I am. Just finished setting my babies up; they’ll be working while I… do… What?” She plopped down in a chair, then sucked on the straw inserted into a huge cup of Caf-Pow.
Vance tapped the table to attract their attention. “Now. Everyone have a drink?” Various nods and noises indicated that they all did. “I’m going to do this all at once … rip off the Band-aid, so to speak. And Ms. Sciuto, no explosions. This is all a done deal.”
Abby started to say something, but Jet frowned her down with a shake of his head. She scowled, but settled to listen.
“All right then. Ms. Sciuto, your job won’t change significantly, so there’s that. Dr. Palmer will be taking over for Dr. Mallard who is retiring, effective in two weeks. He’ll still be available for consultations and welcome at any time. Gibbs is removed from the field, also effective immediately. Sorry, Jethro, but I’m not taking chances with your life or anyone else's. You’ll be taking over cold cases; if a case becomes active, you’ll be lead… from a desk. No arguments from anyone, Ms. Sciuto.”
He was right to call her out, as Abby was getting ready to have one of her tizzies. Gibbs just shook his head at her. “Calm, Abby. I’m out of the field. My knee won’t do any more. It’s FUBAR. Ducky and my orthopedist both agree. I don’t have any problems walking or even jogging, but running full out and making a sharp turn will put me on a cane permanently. So hush.”
Abby pouted, but nodded. “Okay. Sorry… sorry. I just… well, we sure don’t want you on a cane. You’ll just smack people with it.” Everyone snickered at that.
Vance called them to order again. “Okay, okay. Now. All the SEAL team refused to re-up, so we’re hiring all of you… you already signed the paperwork?” He glanced at Cos, Dean, and Remy; they nodded. “Good, good. There’s going to be a bit of a shakeup in the MCRT. Things are heating up all over the world, so… Gibbs, you get your pick of one SEAL; not DiNozzo. You also get two probies, be nice to them. I need trained agents and you’ll do. DiNozzo… you’re taking over the MCRT with McGee as your SFA, and Devereaux. Yes, the team will have two. You’ll also have probies to train. That way you can split into two teams or take on a big case more easily. It will be up to DiNozzo to assign agents to splinter teams at need. Any questions?”
There didn’t seem to be any, so Vance handed out packets of all sorts of paperwork to be signed. It didn’t take long to handle that and get everything back to him.
Tim smiled, just a bit, when he got the nod to SFA; even if he was sharing with Remy. He didn’t mind a bit, as he and the New Orleans native were good friends.
Remy poked Tim. “Y’all gonna he’p me?”
“You bet. We’ll do great.”
Gibbs and Tony shared a smile at overhearing that.
Abby just sighed. “Well, we’re all together, healthy, and working. Things are good.”
Everyone got up and sort of wandered around, asking questions and offering congratulations to each other.
Vance looked at the milling group, smiled, then announced, “The end of the story. Get the fuck out a’ my office and get to work.”
THE END
You’ve tied up all the loose ends beautifully. Nobody should have anything to complain about, because nobody died, and everybody is reasonably content with the way everything turned out. [Thanks.]