Not to be taken seriously!
It was an ordinary day at the NCIS office at the Navy Yard. Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee were bickering over the relative merits of Italian and American sports cars with Dr Mallard chipping with an occasional encomium on British vehicles. Abby Scuito was earnestly trying to persuade Gibbs that he should take an interest in garage music,
"I think it would sound so cool in your basement, Gibbs. Haven't you ever noticed how great the acoustics are down there?"
Gibbs looked at her blankly. Hadn't she noticed that he discouraged all noise down in his sanctum? Perhaps he really should start locking his front door to discourage people from wanting to come down and break the blissful silence in his basement. Jimmy Palmer was doing his best to follow all the conversations and nodded and shook his head at what he hoped was the appropriate time. Ellie Bishop was sitting cross-legged on the floor and trying to analyse all the chatter while eating her way through a pack of Oreos.
Gibbs was about to call order on the chatter when he noticed Director Leon Vance coming down the stairs.
"Gibbs," he said curtly, "you, and your team: my office, now! You too, Dr Mallard, Ms Scuito, Mr Palmer."
Puzzled looks were exchanged at the unusual summons.
"Party time!" said Abby optimistically.
"Budget cut time," said the more realistic McGee in a gloomy tone.
Gibbs sighed but cheered up marginally when he remembered that Abby had just provided him with a fresh cup of coffee so he didn't have to go into the meeting unarmed. His mood plummeted when he overheard Ducky whisper to Abby,
"Oh dear, perhaps today wasn't the right day to move Gibbs on to decaffeinated coffee."
Gibbs scowled at both of them and growled, "Haven't got all day, DiNozzo. Get a move on!"
Tony was used to this sort of injustice and forbore to point out that he was already at his accustomed position six inches behind the Boss's shoulder. He used the journey time to think of a movie reference; he was sure his co-workers would expect one. Leon swept into his office but didn't go and sit behind his desk. Gibbs managed to avoid barrelling into him when the Director stopped short but the rest of the team were less vigilant and there were a few minor collisions.
"Good morning," said Navy Secretary Sarah Porter who was standing behind the desk, "please sit down, all of you. As you can see, the Secretary of Defense is … wishes … has something to say to you." She nodded at the man sitting in Leon's chair.
"Thank you, Sarah," said Mortimer Brown. "Now," he continued, "I expect you all know that Tom Morrow has recently retired from Homeland Security."
His audience nodded and various calculations began to run through their minds: perhaps Vance would replace Morrow? Then Gibbs might replace Vance? DiNozzo replace Gibbs? Brown's voice cut into their musings,
"As he retired, Morrow decided that perhaps he should come clean about something he did while he was Director of NCIS"
The silent speculation moved on to different scenarios although nobody could really picture Morrow doing anything really sordid or sleazy.
"It seemed extraordinary to me," confessed Brown, "but I can see that he did it with the best of intentions."
Sordid and sleazy now seemed completely unlikely although Tony still nursed hopes that nubile young women might somehow be involved.
"And it was for reasons of economy," continued Brown, "it was a time of fiscal pressure."
A soft sigh escaped Tony as he realised that nubile young women and finance rarely went together.
"And in some ways it was brilliant," admitted Brown.
Gibbs took an unemotional sip of bland coffee and waited with, what for him, passed for patience.
"But it can't be allowed to continue," said the Secretary with something like regret. He paused and waited until he was sure he had everyone's attention and then, with the politician's flair for the dramatic said,
"Agent DiNozzo."
"Sir?"
"Call Brigadier Kirby."
"Sir?"
"You heard me. He's expecting your call."
The eyes of the people in the room swivelled between Brown and Tony and then focussed on Tony as he took his cell out and tapped in a number.
"Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch," he said softly.
Abby looked concerned and looked to see if there was a glass of water nearby to help with Tony's cough.
"Sir?" said Tony, "I see … yes, I understand. Right away, Sir. Yes, Sir. I'll let you know, Sir."
Ellie and Tim looked at each other in surprise. They had never heard Tony use the word Sir so often. Tony ended the call and stood up.
"Go on, son," said Brown sympathetically. He gazed at Tony who seemed lost for words. He looked at his watch and remembered he had a busy day ahead so he spoke instead,
"Tom Morrow told me that from time to time, during his tenure as Director of this agency, he faced recruitment difficulties due to budget cuts and he found a way round this." Brown coughed and then continued,
"His solution was to chat informally with the heads of other agencies and mention that he was concerned about possible leaks within NCIS."
"And how did that help?" asked Ducky, "Although I would not be surprised to learn that he found a way round problems. In my experience he was a most able …"
Brown overrode this interruption as he would a limp mosquito, "and Tom said that shortly after that he would get an employment application from an eminently suitable candidate who was willing to work for an unusually low salary."
"But," said McGee, "I still don't understand."
"Agent DiNozzo was one such candidates," said Brown.
"Tony?" "DiNozzo?" "Anthony?" came a variety of voices in a mixture of tones.
"Agent DiNozzo?" invited Secretary Brown.
"I am David Anthony Powys-Jones," said 'Tony' in a voice unlike the one his co-workers were used to hearing from him.
"You're Welsh," said Ducky.
"Dewi to my friends," said Tony with an attempt at a smile.
Gibbs stood up and leaned in towards him, "and who do you work for?" he asked menacingly.
"I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the Royal Marines." Gibbs arm jerked out and Tony braced himself. Needlessly. Gibbs had found himself instinctively saluting when learning that he was in the presence of a marine colonel even if it was a British version. "Currently assigned to MI6."
"So you're really James Bond," breathed Palmer.
Tony smiled, "No, not really. Well, actually, yes."
"Cool," said Palmer.
"You think it's cool?" said Vance irritably, "you think it's cool that you've been deceived all these years? You think it's cool that we've been infiltrated by a foreign operative for years?"
"Of course not," stuttered Palmer, "I mean … I mean … it's reprehen … it's awful. I mean … Dr Mallard, what do I mean?"
"I think, Director, what Mr Palmer is trying to say is that while the deception is to be deplored, Anthony … or should I say Dewi … has done sterling work for the agency. And the United Kingdom is one of America's oldest and closest allies."
"You would say that, Dr Mallard," said Vance crossly, "you're British."
"Ah, well," said Ducky regretfully, "no, I'm not."
"Doctor?" "Ducky?" "Dr Mallard?" came the variety of voices again.
"My name is Gustav Durtschi. I am an officer with Interpol. I can see now that Director Morrow probably spoke with the head of my agency at a time when he was finding it difficult to recruit a new medical examiner with suitable expertise who was willing to work for a modest salary."
"Dr Mallard?" said Jimmy in a shocked voice, "and what nationality are you?"
"Swiss, dear boy. Perfectly neutral, I can assure you. And I should also say that I have never found anything untoward to report about NCIS. It feels very strange for my subterfuge to have come to an end. But Giselle will be relieved."
"Giselle?" said Abby faintly.
"My wife. We've been married nearly fifty years. How marvellous! I will be able to invite you all to our golden wedding celebrations. I was so hoping I could find a way."
Everyone seemed lost for words but Tony/Dewi recovered first, "that'll be great, Ducky. And you can all come to my silver wedding anniversary party."
"You're married?" said McGee in a voice of disbelief.
"Yes. To Carys. See, here's a photo," he scrolled through his smartphone until he came to the pictures. Everyone clustered round.
"She's beautiful," cooed Abby.
"She's my cariad," agreed Tony, "and here she is with the boys."
"Boys?" said Ellie,
"Ben and Cadwy. Ben, he's still with us here in America but Cadwy is in Cardiff now. Studying to be a doctor."
Abby sighed, "Your voice is so dreamy."
Tony blushed and the others gaped. The DiNozzo they knew had seemed immune to embarrassment or shyness.
Secretary Brown bellowed, "Enough! This is a crisis not a social gathering."
"I understand your perplexity," said Ducky reasonably, "but I can assure you that I have done nothing to undermine the working of this agency and, with all modesty, I think I have contributed to its smooth running. I cannot speak for Colonel Powys-Jones but …"
"Thank you, Ducky," said Tony, "and I agree. I have always worked in the best interests of NCIS and have not found anything which substantiated Director Morrow's concerns."
"Of course not," said Gibbs irascibly, "we know now that he made them up!"
"We?" said Abby wonderingly.
Gibbs straightened himself, "Lincoln Jonathan Galway. Special Agent with …" he hesitated for a moment, "Army CID."
"Army CID?" gasped Tony before wilting before Gibbs' glare.
"Not Jethro?" asked Abby wistfully.
"Fraid not, Abs," said Gibbs kissing her on the cheek, "and I hate working with wood so no more basement for me. But I'll listen to your music if you like."
Abby seemed consoled by this and sat down again. Gibbs stared at Secretary Brown who was looking more and more bemused.
"Anyone else got a confession to make?" asked Vance sarcastically. Silence reigned for a moment or two and then Ellie and Palmer began to speak at the same time.
"I'm so sorry," said Palmer, "after you. Please."
"Oh, no," said Ellie, "I think you were first. Please."
"No, no," said Jimmy, "I insist."
Brown intervened, "Boy! You go first."
"Certainly," said Palmer in a suddenly more confident voice, "I'm Dr Michael Hopgood. An agent with Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. ATF."
"Good Lord," said Ducky, "and Breena?"
"Is an excellent undercover operative," confirmed Palmer, "although her name is actually Brenda. She's doing excellent undercover work in the funeral services industry."
"Really?" said McGee.
"No. Not really," said Palmer, "that was a joke. Unless you know of something that needs to be investigated there?"
In the silence that followed the latest revelation, Brown ordered Ellie to speak.
"Uh, well," she said, "I guess I'm like McGee."
"You are?" said Tim in surprise.
"Yes. I work for NCIS. I mean I know I used to work for NSA but no more. Now I'm just working for NCIS."
The Secretary for Defense looked relieved but then Abby stood up.
"OK, guys, here's the thing. I work for the CIA. Agent Amelia Smith. And can I just say that I hate black. I hate Goth things. I am so not into magic or tarot. But I like bowling. Oh, and I like Bert. And the nuns." Brown nodded helplessly. "Oh, continued Abby, "and like the others. I've loved working here and I haven't had anything bad to report. Apart from orange walls. And lack of budget. And …"
"We get the idea," began Brown.
"And are you married too?" asked Tim.
"No," said Abby, "are you interested after all? But what about Delilah?"
McGee shuffled awkwardly, "Delilah Fielding is a very good operative but there is nothing between us."
"There isn't?" said Abby edging a little closer.
"Why not?" asked Tony reverting to his DiNozzo persona with a little leer.
"Because it wouldn't be appropriate," said Tim a little stiffly.
"Tim?" asked Gibbs.
Tim coughed, "I'm Father Thomas O'Malley of the Moral Crusade to Reform and Protect the United States of America."
"You're a priest?" This time all the voices agreed on what to say.
"Yes," said Tim stoically, "and like the others I would like to say that it has been a pleasure and a privilege to serve this fine organization which I think could serve as a model for the whole of our great country."
"You're not in the pulpit now, O'verbose," said Tony, "Hey," he went on, "this is great. I was beginning to run out of mcnicknames but now I can move on to the Os."
Tim groaned.
"You seem to be forgetting something," said Brown, "I don't think you will all be working together in the future. At best you will be dismissed, at worst imprisoned and some of you will be deported."
Most of the MCRT slumped into their chairs despondently but then looked up hopefully as Gibbs cleared his throat. He hadn't said much up to now.
"Seems to me that the MCRT has served NCIS pretty well all this time," he observed.
"And cheaply," muttered Tony.
Gibbs glared at his SFA but still seemed a bit in awe of a lieutenant colonel so held back on a head slap. "If you sack us you won't have a MCRT," he said, "or a forensic scientist or medical examiner team."
Brown looked thoughtful.
"Bishop's good but she's just a Probie. Don't think she and Vance will fill our shoes," added Gibbs.
"What are you suggesting?" said Brown.
Gibbs shrugged, "why not leave things as they are? I'm guessing we've all done well. Drawing our 'real' pay along with the NCIS salary?" The others all nodded. "We like it here. Want to stay. Why not let us carry on? I'm sure we could come to some arrangement with our other employers." Everyone nodded enthusiastically.
The Secretary of Defense hadn't got to his exalted position without being able to make quick decisions.
"It's completely unacceptable and nonsensical," he said.
"So you agree?" asked Gibbs.
"Absolutely," said Brown, "Sarah, see to it, will you?" He stood up and everyone else also got to their feet. He strode to the door and then paused, "Leon, Sarah: if either of you is KGB or FBI. Don't tell me. Wait till I've retired." And with that, he left, followed by the Secretary of the Navy and Vance.
Left alone, the others clustered round excitedly trying to remember the real names of their co-workers, asking Tony to say something in Welsh and persuading Gibbs to host a barbecue so that everyone could meet the 'new' wives and children. Gibbs gave in easily; he was in a good mood now that he could give up building boats and drinking bourbon. He raised his cup of coffee in a silent salute of gratitude to Tom Morrow.
AN: um, I don't think this is very likely! Fortunately the characters aren't mine.
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch is the longest place name in Wales and I thought it would be a suitable password for Tony (or Dewi) as he couldn't say it by mistake.
Cariad is Welsh for darling or sweetheart.