American Heavy Metal
Beta'ed by Jake and Jordre. (Thanks, Ladies.)
. Chapter One .
Tony eyed the report and sighed. "Well, there's no choice." He wasn't complaining. "We've been on duty for the last six months. That includes eight missions, not to mention all the cases I've been on between missions. And ..." he checked the report again. "We've all built up enough leave time that we're going to start losing it. Belt will go mental. He hates that. So ..." He pulled a yellow legal pad to hand on the arm of the couch and started making notes.
It didn't take him long to figure out that the four SEALs all had at least two weeks of leave that they had to take. They also had bonuses and overtime.
A bit of creative computer work yielded the information that Gibbs, Tim, and Jimmy also had use-it-or-lose-it time. Ducky and Abby didn't, but they both tended to take their days 'as needed' instead of saving them. Or just not having time to take a day here and there.
Tim wandered in from the kitchen. "AJ, supper's about ready."
"Ok, I'll go wash up." Tony closed his laptop, put it on the coffee table, and ambled out to wash.
Tim took a look at Tony's notes. "Okay, we all have to take two weeks off or lose the time?"
Tony hollered, "Yeah," from the bathroom.
"Um ... AJ?" Tim nearly jumped out of his skin when Tony poked him in the side. "Damn it, I'm gonna make you wear a bell."
Tony snickered. "Sorry. So ... two weeks leave time. You wanted something?"
"What did we do with those bucket lists? The ones we made out after O'Shay's." Tim had wondered about those from time to time.
Tony shrugged. "No idea. Knowing Jet, they're still at his place. Probably right on the counter where we dumped 'em."
Tim frowned. "No, I don't think so. Jet doesn't leave stuff lying around that long. Bet he filed them in his office. Somewhere."
Tony acknowledged the truth of that by calling Remy. "Remy, take a look around. See if you can't find those bucket lists we did."
Remy tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder. "'Kay. Gimme a sec." He rummaged around in what they all called the funny file, a file of silly emails, bad cartoons, and other things they found amusing. "Yup, here they are. What do you want me to do with 'em?"
Tony thought about that for a moment. "Scan 'em and send 'em to me."
Tim put a plate in front of Tony and dropped a fork on it. "Eat. Now." He took the phone from Tony and said, "AJ's eating now. Bye," and thumbed the disconnect.
Tony picked up the fork and dug into his spaghetti carbonara. He and Tim took turns with cooking and clean up. They had turned out to have very similar tastes, so cooking wasn't the chore it could have been.
"Good. Did a good job." Tony forked up another bite of spaghetti.
"Thanks. Glad you like it." Tim smiled. "I was wondering if it would be worth the trouble to buy a tangine."
"No. Just use the crock pot. I think some of those fancy cooking things are just ostentatious affectation. "He grinned at Tim. "Makes a great show when you've got company." Tony sipped his wine. "Don't really need it. And you know the guys don't care." He fiddled with his glass, thinking.
Tim smiled at that. Tony wanted him to do something but didn't want to impose. "Just fucking ask already."
"Okay. I was hoping that you'd take all those bucket lists and do a spread sheet or something. Need to figure out something that all of us would like to do. Jimmy included."
Tim nodded absently; he was already planning the spread. "Need to include danger factor? Or just go for it?"
"Don't want to do anything that'll get someone really hurt. So ... no explosions." Tony poked at his plate, wondering if he wanted more. Deciding no, he picked up the bottle of wine. "More?" he motioned to Tim's glass with the bottle.
"Just half. I'm going to check my email for those lists. Won't take me long to drop them into a sheet." Tim picked up his glass and took an appreciative sip. "Very good."
Tony grinned. "Worked as a sommelier for an undercover; took the opportunity to learn what I could." Tony was proud of his ability to pick wine. He didn't care about the cost that much, just that it was good.
Tim quickly finished the spreadsheet, which listed everything they'd put on their bucket lists, including Jimmy's wish to compete in the Barber Shop Quartet International finals. He mumbled, "Well, that's not gonna happen. But ..." Tim grinned at Tony. "Ok, AJ, we've got a winner."
Tony grinned. "Like that look. What is it?"
Tim checked his spreadsheet again. "Of Dean, Remy, Cosmo and you. All four want to take a road trip. Three of you on motorcycles. Jimmy and Gibbs want a road trip. Gibbs wants to buy a Harley. Me? Road trip on a motor sounds great. You?"
"Sounds like a done deal to me."
"But ... where are we going to get motors? And ... Jimmy can't afford one." Tim bit his lip, wondering how to make it all work.
Tony thought as he sipped at his wine. "I'm not sure ... but ... ever heard of a junkyard hog?"
Tim shook his head. "No. What's that?"
"Motor made out of ... well, junkyard parts. Take several totaled bikes and use the good parts to make one. I know a guy who does that. They're all certified road-ready and not that expensive. Bet he'd do us a real deal." Tony finished his wine. "Once we find out who really wants to go and who doesn't, I'll give him a call and see what sort of deal he'll give us."
They cleaned the kitchen then went to their work. Tim had several things to do to wrap up something for another team, while Tony just had a bale of paperwork to do to get their leave. He was responsible for all the paperwork for the SEALs, and most of it for Gibbs' team. Gibbs did his own work but, as SFA, Tony was responsible for signing off on the reports for the rest of the team. Their latest TDA was an inoffensive bean counter who'd done a decent job, until they'd gotten into a physical confrontation with a CPO, then he'd fallen apart at the seams. He was now in Cyber Crime counting bits.
.
Gibbs eyed the memo with disgust. "AJ! Damn it. What did you do that for?"
"Because we need the down time and so do you. You're getting bitchy. Here." Tony handed Gibbs the spread sheet with the overlapping entries highlighted.
Gibbs snorted into his coffee. "I am not bitchy, asshole."
Tony just pointed to Gibbs with both index fingers then waggled his hands. "Talk to the jazz hands, 'cause the truth is its own defense. Grumpy."
Gibbs gave up. He really was grumpier than normal. He admitted to being tired. Tony being gone on missions wore on him in more ways than one. One, he worried about Tony. Two, he took over as SFA, as well as Team Lead, and accepted a TDA; both things annoyed him. One of the reasons he was so resistant to having a TDA was ― he had to train them to do things that Tony already knew how to do. And he didn't feel it was fair to Tim to have him take over as SFA then step down again every time Tony was gone.
Added to that, Tim had admitted that he much preferred being the team 'geek'. He loved finding the data they needed, loved hacking computer systems that were thought un-hackable. He actively hated all the paper work required of an SFA; it couldn't be digitized.
It didn't take long for Gibbs to initial the leave forms and sign off on the whole team getting time off. He checked with Ducky and found that the older man had made arrangements to go to a conference in Las Vegas which he was looking forward to. He was delighted to find out that the rest of the team was taking time off, saying with brutal frankness, "Excellent. Jethro, you need time off, you're becoming something of a horse's arse." Gibbs snorted and hung up.
Abby, on the other hand, wasn't that happy. She didn't have any time off left on the books, so she couldn't go to the conference, even though she'd been invited to present; she'd used all her leave time to attend an earlier conference. She was going to have to work with secondary teams for the two weeks the team would be off. She wasn't happy about that at all. But, being Abby, she said she'd make the best of it... maybe even teach the secondary teams a few things. Gibbs had snickered at her tone of voice.
So now all they had to do was figure out what they were going to do with two weeks of down time. Gibbs was sure he knew, but he wasn't leaving this to fate― he called everyone and told them, "My place, 19:00, bring food."
They gathered in Gibbs' kitchen for dinner and, as Abby said, "Think tanking."
Tony passed copies of the spreadsheet around. "I know we were all pretty drunk, hung over, whatever, when we filled these out ... so, if something you wrote down was just bullshit, cross it off. Hand the sheet back and Digimon will redo it."
It didn't take them long to go over the sheets. No one crossed anything off, so they took a vote. Ducky abstained, but Abby demanded a vote, saying, "I wasn't drunk, but there's at least three things on the list I want to do too." She grinned at the group. "I'd love to bungee jump off that bridge."
Gibbs winced while Tim asked, "Which one?"
"That one in Colorado." Abby bounced at the thought.
"Royal Gorge?" Remy pulled out his tablet to check things out.
"Yeah, that one."
Tim punctured Abby's bubble. "Sorry, Abs, it's illegal. There's a dozen bridges that used to be okay, but people got hurt and someone passed an ordinance, or law, depending on ... stuff you're not interested in. But, it means no jumping off it."
Abby mock pouted for a second but brightened when Dean said, "Well, there's always wing-suiting off the Grand Canyon. I think they still let you, if you make arrangements with someone."
Remy snorted. "No for me. I'm not Rocky."
Gibbs looked a bit blank. Cosmo explained, "The flying squirrel. It's actually where someone got the idea for the suit. Or so I've been told."
Tony fiddled with his iPad for a moment then said, "You can't base jump anywhere in the park. Too many idiots got themselves killed. Well, damn."
Abby shrugged. "It's a bucket list. You can base jump somewhere, I'm sure."
Ducky sighed. "I was once an adventurous lad, but I'll never understand this passion for jumping off high places." He smiled, "But an airplane? That's another thing altogether." He sipped his coffee with a slight, secretive smile.
Gibbs eyed him for a moment, then just said, "White Cliffs of Dover."
"And that, my friend, is why."
Everyone demanded the story but Ducky refused to tell, as did Gibbs. They both claimed that it was too late at night to get drunk enough. Everyone let it drop as it was obvious that neither man wanted to talk about it. They returned to the discussion instead.
It didn't take long for them all to agree with Tony's first assessment: a road trip on motorcycles was the way to go; if they happened to manage something else from someone's list, great; if not, no harm done.
Tony grumbled, "I've got a motor up at NCIS." He blinked at the puzzled looks. "In the hanger with my chopper, remember?" Gibbs nodded while Jimmy looked a bit blank and Tim grinned. "But we still need to get everyone else one."
Abby nodded. "That's right. But .." She frowned. "I'm not that sure about Tim and Jimmy. I mean, I ..." She sighed, "This is not coming out right."
Jimmy nodded eagerly. "I understand. Motorcycles aren't called murdercycles for nothing. But ... I know how to ride. I had a scooter when I was younger. And an uncle of mine rides, so I've ridden his."
Tim, on the other hand, wasn't experienced. "I always wanted to ride but ... I've never had a chance and ... I'm not sure I'd be much good at it. Other options?"
Jimmy brightened. "I know. That uncle I was telling you about? He made a trike, but he doesn't like it. I bet he'd let me borrow it ... on a more or less permanent basis." He managed to look inordinately pleased with himself. "Tim could ride with me. And it's got ... not a huge one ... but a trunk and there's enough room in it for a tent and some camping gear."
Tony glanced at Gibbs, who nodded slightly. "Okay, that takes care of me, Tim and Jimmy. Leaves Cosmo, Dean, Gibbs and Remy to deal with. Suggestions? And that includes you two." he eyed Abby and Ducky.
Abby thought while Ducky just said, "I know next to nothing about any of that sort of thing. I think I'll limit myself to inspecting the first aid kits." He smiled genially. "And, if someone doesn't mind, I'll have another cup of that excellent tea."
Jimmy got up and went into the kitchen to make Ducky's tea. Gibbs kept all the things he needed as Ducky was a regular and welcome visitor. All the SEALs loved the elderly doctor and listened to his stories with every evidence of enjoyment. Jimmy loved the evenings they could just sit in front of the fireplace and share intern stories.
Jimmy returned with Ducky's tea just in time to hear Abby on her phone.
"I know. But they need them soon... ish." Abby glanced at Tony.
He signed, 'Five days.'
Abby conveyed that then listened. "Okay, I think they all want some sort of big cruiser." She eyed the group, taking a quick 'eye count'. "Yeah, need four. It'd be nice if they had sort of matchy paint jobs too."
Jimmy hissed, "Ask them if they can paint a trike. Mine is mostly primer still."
Abby passed the message on and found out that the only bikes available weren't painted yet so they'd be happy to paint all the bikes and the trike the same colors. They'd be ready the day after leave began; or in a week, whichever came first. Before he hung up, Abby's friend, who also turned out to be Tony's contact, asked for names. She replied, "Dean, Cosmo, Remy, Jet. Jimmy's bringing in the trike. Bye." She hung up then said, "I'm really, really jealous. I'd love to go but..." her eyes twinkled, "Vegas and a forensic convention. Can't pass that up."
Ducky chuckled. "So you'll not be the only one still here? But, my dear girl, I thought you were going to have to stay. Out of time from going to that last convention."
Abby grinned. "I was, but ... I sort of whined at Vance that it was such a shame that I'd have to miss it. Being out of time and all. Then I told him that they want me to present. That changed his mind in a big ol' hurry. It's a cachet to have a presenter on staff." Abby, goofy Goth that she was, was still one of the most well known and best respected forensic scientists around. It wasn't that unusual for her to be asked to present her most recent paper or procedure.
Jimmy had a question. "You're buying motorcycles from a junkyard, I get that but what about safety checks and registration?"
Abby happily explained, "Well, yeah, they're what we used to call junkyard hogs. They call 'em custom jobs now." She smirked. "Nothing wrong with the bike at all. They'll pass the standard safety checks and be licensed and all that." She thought for a second. "Oh! And insured. You all better get on that."
Tim nodded. "Okay. As soon as I have registrations, I can do the insurance. It shouldn't take very long. Couple of days."
Abby nodded. "I'd help but I've actually got to leave in ..." she checked her phone. "Three days. I'll be gone four. They won't have the information before I leave and you're all leaving before I get back." She poked Tim in the ribs. "Evil men."
Tim obediently snickered and flinched. "Evil woman. Stop that. I'll deal. All I need is the numbers."
Tony laughed. "Song title. Two for you."
Abby snorted then looked at her watch. "Damn. Unlike you slackers, I have to be in early. Tests are running as we speak. I need to be in to get the results. I've got to go."
Dean jumped up and said, "I'll walk you out. It is my turn."
Gibbs nodded his approval. All the SEALs liked Abby, and took turns walking her out to the parking lot at NCIS and to her car anywhere else. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself but no one could see any reason she should have to. So with a wave and a grin, she was on her way home.
.
The next day was the beginning of catch-up week. This was the week Vance had demanded they use to catch up all their paperwork and filing chores. Then they were off for two weeks.
Tony plopped the last file on Gibbs' desk. Gibbs gave him a rather heated look, but Tony grinned at him and reminded him, "Jet, you know you have to sign off on everything. I'm not doing anyone else's paperwork anymore. Bad enough when Probie was a tadpole an' I had to keep him under watch. Ziva was even worse; she might have spoken fairly good English, but her written was ... well, it sucked. Heard anything about her yet?"
Gibbs looked over the pile, remarking absently, "No, but I don't expect to. She's more messed up than we thought. Got an email from her shrink, they don't expect her to be out of in-patient therapy for quite a while. She liked the general email I sent her, but it set her nightmares off again. Kinda miss her... but not trying to understand her reports." He sighed then handed Tony a couple of folders. "Take a look. We're going to need a general duty TDA. See what you think."
Tony took the folders and wandered in the general direction of his desk. He dropped the folders on one corner then turned to his monitor. He was going to slack off on the choice for a bit. He was much more interested in where to spend their two weeks leave. A road trip wasn't that much fun without a destination, or two, or three. He decided to send out a team email asking for destinations.
It didn't take him long to receive answers to his question. Dean and Cosmo both said a state park for some camping, preferably with fishing. Remy wanted to go to Louisiana to check on his Gran. Jet wanted to visit his father for a few days, which, he reminded, could involve fishing. Jimmy and Tim both wanted twisty roads and camping.
So he grumbled a bit at the fact that Pennsylvania was the opposite direction from Louisiana. But they did have two weeks and the ride would be fantastic most of the way. They could take secondary roads instead of interstate for much of the way. This made the ride longer by several hundred miles but also made it safer, helping them to avoid riding alongside 18-wheelers and inattentive commuters.
He started to search for suitable camping spots then realized that he had one of the best computer search experts in the country sitting four feet from him. "Digimon! Hey! Front an' center."
Tim looked up from his report. "What?"
"Oh, Digimon, don't be like that. Grumpy much? Need a search done." Tony gave Tim his most charming smile.
"Put that away. Sorry about snapping but you know how much I hate filling out some of these forms. The layout doesn't make sense. Why some of them require backtracking several pages to fill out makes no sense at all. I swear, I'm gonna redesign them and insert them into the system. So ... anyway, what do you need?" Tim's apologetic expression soothed Tony's hurt quickly. He also hated filling out most of the forms. They'd been designed by bean counters and forced on the programmers.
"Okay; first: do not tell me stuff like that, just do it," he smirked, "the day before we leave. And, two: need an itinerary." At Tim's puzzled frown, he explained better, ending, "So, why, I ask, should I do it half-assed when you can do it better, quicker, and neater?"
"No reason I can see. Send me a copy of the compilation I know you made of who wants to do what. I'll work in everything I can."
Tony sent the requested document and settled back to finish his paperwork.
Tim eyed the various requests and smiled, this wasn't going to be much of a problem. The trip from Pennsylvania to Louisiana was going to be the biggest problem, so he put that in a separate document then printed everything out. He'd put it up for discussion on the private forum he'd created for just this purpose. He sent an email to everyone and settled down to do some rewriting. He couldn't help a slightly evil smirk, wondering what a few people would have to say about the changes. He was going to eliminate at least four forms altogether. They were redundant, to say the least; the people who wanted them would be getting auto-sends of a different form that contained all the needed information. The redundant forms were going to completely disappear from the mainframe. Vance could kiss his lily white.
Tony couldn't imagine what had caused that smirk; it was particularly self-satisfied, but he didn't care, he was in the middle of form hell. He grumbled, "I don't know why the hell I can't copy/paste half this stuff."
Tim replied absently, "Because that'd be way too easy. We need to waste our time redoing things six times, just in case we have something else to do." He clattered his keyboard, changing, deleting, rearranging. He hoped to slip the whole mess by in one fell swoop. By the time anyone really noticed, he was hoping to be long gone, his tracks covered by expertise and time.
It didn't take long for the forum to light up. Everyone had an opinion and wasn't afraid to voice it. The general consensus, compiled before they left for the day was that they should head for Stillwater, taking back roads and loafing, eating along the way.
Gibbs glanced at his watch then announced, "1700, head out. Vance has refused to sign off on another second of overtime until we clear the board. My place, 1900." He looked at Tim, then Tony; neither man objected so he finished, "I'll call Gremlin. Wolf is going to be on call until late and doesn't have any interest anyway. Abby too." And with that, he picked up his go bag and headed for the elevator; Tim and Tony scrambled to catch up.
.
They gathered at Gibbs' place and settled around the living room with beer and pizza, wings and dip.
Tony munched on his pizza for a while, letting everyone come down from the day before saying, "Okay, everyone read the thing?" Nods and other signs of agreement led him to continue, "Good. So Stillwater first; there's a great park about twenty miles from Jackson's place that we can camp at. I'm sure he'll want us to spend at least one night there. We'll do that and be respectful of his age." He looked his men over. "Right?"
Remy spoke for all of them. "We'll do more than that. I bet there's a ton of stuff needs doing around his house. We'll give it a good clean and fix what needs fixin'." One firm nod made his feelings clear. " 'At why I need get back ta home. Gran's gettin' old. I need ta check on 'er." Everyone knew this was important, emotion brought out Remy's Cajun accent.
Tony nodded. "Okay, but we're going to take our time getting there. It's dangerous to run interstates, even in a pack. Secondaries are the way to go. Blacktop has its own dangers, but they're easier to cope with. Any comments, emendations, bitching?" He glanced around, got shrugs and head shakes in return. "Okay, Digimon, print out several copies. Okay?"
Tim nodded. He turned to the newly set-up laser printer and poked a button. "Man, I'm glad you finally dragged Jet into the 21st century."
Gibbs grinned crookedly. "Kicking and screaming, I'll admit."
Gibbs had finally admitted that his well-known contempt of all things computer-chipped came from the simple fact that he'd been out of touch with developments for much of his deployments and had never bothered to catch up. This laziness was now coming back to bite him firmly on the ass. He was disgusted with himself for letting it go long enough to become a liability and was doing his best to catch back up. Tim was helping as best he could.
Since Tim's best was very good, Gibbs was catching up quickly. It didn't hurt that he was a quick study and not afraid to work hard. He actually had homework and study sheets with deadlines. Tim had enrolled him in an on-line class, not that he'd told Gibbs that. He was aiming at Gibbs having an Associate's Degree in something computer-related six months out. It was looking good.
While he was thinking, the printer was doing its thing. Tim pulled the collated copies out of the tray and handed them out.
"Here. Each one of us is getting a complete itinerary. Go over it. If there're any complaints, comments, additions ... whatever, write them down and hand them in. I do not expect bitching at the last minute." He shrugged. "But last minute changes can be voted on."
Gibbs laughed. "Glad this is a vacation, instead of an op. We'd be headed for Graceland for sure."
Dean shook his head. "Oh, no. Already been. Not going again. Way too touristy."
Cosmo agreed. "Went ... three years ago? Something like that. All they want to do is sell you shit. Food's good though."
Tim blinked. "You ..." he pointed at Tony. "Half those frat bro trips were with them," he waved a hand at the SEALs.
Tony nodded, then said, "And the other half were missions. Most of the hangovers you accused me of having were combat crash."
"Sorry. Really." Tim looked shamefaced.
Dean waved a hand. "Don't sweat it. You weren't supposed to figure it out."
Remy had been going over the pages while this was going on. "Okay. We get to New Orleans, why?" He pronounced the city's name N'awlens.
"Um ... to visit your Gran?" Tim wondered what the problem was.
Remy grinned at Tim. "She don' live there. She live on Bayou Saint Denis. That way south. But we do go through the Big Easy. Spend a night there, maybe?"
"Okay." Tim poked at his keyboard, eyed the monitor, then sighed. "Man, she lives in the middle of nowhere." He flushed as everyone else laughed heartily.
Remy wasn't offended. "She do. But it's nice. We don't have to find camping, she'll let us set up in the yard. There's outdoor showers we can set up. She keep 'em for family reunions. Everyone camps then. She's got a huge farm kitchen and a summer kitchen, so she gets the reunion."
Tony looked blank. "What's a summer kitchen?"
Gibbs answered that. "Usually a separate room, like a detached garage. Only it's a kitchen. Keeps the heat out of the house."
"Gran's is more a screened-in porch. An' you better not track in dirt. Shoes on the porch, not in the house." As this was a common practice in their group, no one thought anything of that.
Dean licked his lips then said, "Bet lots of good food comes out of there."
Remy nodded. "True fact. Just ... choppin' all that wood's a pain."
Gibbs shrugged. "Like choppin' wood."
Cosmo eyed him. "Job's all yours then. And good luck with that."
There was general laughter and a bit of teasing before they broke up.
Jimmy headed out a bit early. Ducky claimed that he was just a light sleeper but Jimmy noticed that he always stayed up until he got home. He decided to get Abby to stay with Ducky while he was away. The older gentleman would never say anything but Jimmy got the feeling that he didn't like staying alone anymore.
Tim and Tony got home to find a cluster of younger men in front of the building. Tim had actually rented a parking space in a three-story garage near NCIS; he didn't trust the safety of the apartment lot anymore. They didn't hurry by the men; in fact, Tony gave them a stinkeye as they entered their building.
Tim frowned. "Not sure that was a good idea."
Tony snarled, "Don't care. No one buffaloes me. Ever."
Tim, well aware of why Tony had that attitude, just shrugged and unlocked the door. Tony kept an eye on their six until they were inside the apartment.
.
The next morning at Hotel Gibbs was a bit of a rush for everyone. Dean couldn't find the jeans he wanted to wear; Cosmo couldn't find his boots. Remy was making breakfast and dropped an egg on the floor. Gibbs watched the running around with a faint, amused smile. He had coffee and was satisfied.
At Tony's place it wasn't much better. They managed to get ready in good time, but found the SUV had a flat, due to the huge gash in the sidewall. Tony just glanced around the area, checking for a spy. He didn't see anyone. He called Quantico to come pick up the SUV and bring them another.
They heard snickering from the bushes, to which Tony replied, "That's right, yuck it up, asshole. But remember one thing ... I'm a SEAL. And you're ... not."
When the new SUV arrived, it was followed by a tow truck. The driver hopped out, saluted and stepped out of Tony's way. Tony returned the salute and got in. He rolled down the window to tell the PO3, "Since you brought a truck, just take it back to the motor pool. I'll do a little investigating and, if I find out who did this, I'll need an invoice to present."
The PO3 saluted again, snapping, "Yes, sir! 48 hrs, sir!"
Tony nodded, said, "As you were," and drove off.
Tim sighed.
Tony side-eyed him with some amusement. "Sound like you sprung a leak."
"Just ... I figured we'd be okay. But ... well, we can't fight a whole gang."
"No. We can't. But most gang bangers are like dogs. One won't do much of anything. Three or more and they get their nerve up. We separate out the alphas and we're home free." Tony's expression gave Tim the shivers.
"AJ, they're not Al Qaida or something. They're a bunch of wannabe BAMFs with more balls than sense. You can't ... do whatever you have in mind."
Tony sneered. "I'm not about to bring down the wrath of God on them. But I can make myself a real pain in the ass to the police until they do something, or the landlord does." He dialed, spoke to dispatch, telling the dispatcher that someone was on-site to deal with the paperwork. Then he called the landlord and threatened to sue if something wasn't done and soon. He remained polite and calm, but both the dispatcher and the landlord were well aware that he wasn't happy and expected results.
Tim wondered why he couldn't get results like that. He was a good investigator, great with anything with a chip, but interrogation was a real weak spot.
Tony, with nearly psychic insight, said, "You just need more experience. It's a Catch-22; you need experience but we can't take a chance on the perp getting away, so we do the interrogation. So you aren't getting experience. I'm gonna have ta think about that. Find some way for you to get some experience."
Tim thought about it then asked, "Why can't I do some with another team? Maybe Connor's team, they investigate theft and vandalism mostly. If I screw up one, there's still a good chance that one of the others will roll."
Tony agreed with that. "Yeah, that'd work. I'll see if Connor will go along with it. And the fact that you're with an MCRT will work in your favor."
"How? And how would they even find out?" Tim frowned out the window, so as not to frown at Tony.
"Well, during the set-up, one of Connor's team will just casually mention to the other that, for some as-yet-unascertained reason, an MCRT is getting involved. Put a bit more stress on the suspect and set them up for you. Then make them sit around for an hour or so, sweating it out, then in you stroll and ... well, you did a great job on that little shit ... Gecko?"
Tim laughed in remembrance. "Oh, him. Geckler. Called himself Geck. Yeah, I remember. So, after they've had time to sweat, I just wander in, tell them who I am and what team I'm on and go from there?"
"Exactly." Tony nodded to the gate guard and put his SUV in park to wait for the security check to be done.
It didn't take long for the guards to ask their questions, check under the vehicle with their mirrors, and tell them to proceed.
They were followed in by another SUV occupied by Dean, Cosmo, and Remy. They had taken to hanging around the NCIS squad room―the Gibbs team bullpen in particular―when not doing something more, as Tony put it, SEAL-like.
"I'm going to pull over and wait for them." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "No telling what kind of chaos those lugnuts will cause."
Tim laughed. "They're just energetic." He gave Tony a sideways look. "That's what Penny would say."
Tony snorted. "Insane. That's what they are." He watched fondly as his team 'helped' the inspectors, happily polishing their mirror, patting the sailor on the shoulder and offering to take out the seats, the carpeting, which the vehicle didn't have, and in general creating chaos and confusion for twenty feet in every direction.
When they reentered the vehicle and started the engine, Tony started his and they headed for the parking garage.
Gibbs was just parking his car, having gotten there just ahead of Tony. They joined him to walk through security at the door.
It seemed that Vance had instigated a new security protocol. Everyone had to check every weapon each time they came in the door.
Tony shrugged and started unloading himself, muttering as he did so. "Vance? Idiot, what's the use of a holdout if everyone knows where it is?" He examined the mess on the table for a moment then sighed. "I'm forgetting something."
The guard eyed the pile on the table as well, muttered "'Freaking the Mundanes,' anyone?" and started taking inventory. "NCIS-issue Sig 9. Small frame .308 Taurus. Folding knife, barely legal. Standard issue Marine K-Bar. Six Jack Ripper throwers." He picked up a piece of cord. "What's this?"
Tony eyed it for a moment then shrugged. "Primacord. Forgot it was in my pocket." He picked it out of the man's hand. "I think it went through the wash. Wonder if it still works?"
Gibbs grabbed him before he could do anything. "No; just no. Not a chance." He held out a hand. "Gimme."
Tony passed the length of innocent looking cord over, giving Gibbs an offended look. "Boss, not inside. I'm not stupid."
"And not outside in the parking lot either." Gibbs eyed Tony for a second. "AJ, you know you would."
Tony acquiesced at that. "Yeah, probably," he shrugged and motioned the guard to return to his inventory.
The man was much more cautious now. "Um ... blob of silly putty? And another cord, sorta looks like co-ax."
Gibbs covered his eyes with one hand. "AJ. Fuck. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?"
"Um ... I think I wore these pants on my last mission. I don't think I cleaned out my thigh pockets properly."
The guard gave up and called his superior. Tim was laughing his ass off on the sidelines while Tony's team were actually either leaning on the wall or rolling on the floor.
Gibbs rolled his eyes and smacked Tony in the back of the head. "Lugnut."
Tony issued the obligatory, 'ow,' then leaned on the table, waiting for the supervisor to arrive from his office.
When the supervisor arrived he took one look at the Primacord, det cord, and C-4. "Damn it, DiNozzo, empty your fucking pockets. This is all contraband. I'll have bomb come pick it up. You can get it back from them end of shift." He gave Tony a disgusted look then added, "You're gonna blow your ass off some day." He then ambled off, grumbling, "Coffee, need coffee."
Another round of laughter greeted this as Tony tucked his remaining weapons away.
The guard eyed the group then snarled, "Next. And there'd better not be any more explosives."
Cosmo shook his head. "No, man, I'm mostly munitions. Don't do bombs an' shit."
He unloaded his pockets, producing nothing more dangerous than a folding knife and standard Navy-issue sidearm.
Dean and Remy did the same with much the same results, except that Remy had a garrote in his pocket. The guard gave them all a fish-eye, but sent them through.
Gibbs unloaded a mass of arms much like Tony, while Tim confessed to nothing more than a folder and his NCIS-issue Sig.
Several waiting agents eyed the array of weapons with respectful eyes. They all seemed to sigh in relief when the last man passed through the scanner.
The two groups joined in the elevator, crowding it to capacity. Dean grumbled, "Cos, get your elbow out of my ribs."
Cosmo edged away a bit but this brought him in contact with Tim. Tim shoved him, grumbling, "Personal space, man."
Gibbs, stuck in the back, snarled, "You lugnuts lay off each other."
Tony, jostled in the exchange, barked, "Ten-HUT!" Even Tim snapped to.
Gibbs didn't, but he froze in place, allowing himself a bit of space. When the elevator doors opened, the whole squad room was treated to the sight of four SEALs and one NCIS agent standing at attention, spaced properly.
Tony ordered, "For'ard march!" and they all followed him off the elevator, even Tim and Gibbs. although Gibbs wasn't in step, playing eyes behind. Tony stepped to one side, then barked, "Column right!" as they cleared the elevator doors, then "Column left!" as the head of the line came even with the team's bullpen. He paced alongside the column, fighting to keep a straight face. A final "Detail, halt; fall out to desks!" had them scattering to go to their own workstations, trying to smother snickers.
Tony eyed the pile of paperwork on his desk and mumbled, "I'm gonna find that little shit, Peters, and frag him, I swear."
Gibbs looked up from his own pile to remark, "It's not his fault; don't kill the messenger." He started sorting forms, mumbling, "Not that it's not tempting. Whatever happened to a paperless world?"
Tim shook his head then snarked, "Luddite dinosaurs like you shot it in the neck." Gibbs maturely gave him the finger. "Nice."
Dean, sitting at the TAD desk, told them all. "So ... hurry up and get it all done. Vance might actually have mercy on us all and let you leave for ... leave when you're done." He frowned for a moment then shrugged, deciding he didn't need to elaborate.
Remy agreed with that, adding, "Oui, an' maybe we should go by the yard to see what they've come up with for motors."
Tony chimed in with, "Right. If we don't like them, now's the time to say something. I'll call Abby for the number, I don't have it in this phone." He quickly dialed the internal number, happy that it was only four digits, instead of the 19 needed from outside.
Abby happily informed Tony that she'd heard from the yard last night, she was supposed to pass on the message that they wanted the trike asap so the paint was all from the same batch.
"Well, why didn't they call me?" Tony eyed his message queue to make sure he hadn't missed the call.
"Idiot lost the number. I swear, they just write things down on scraps of whatever and toss them on a desk. Most disorganized bunch in the world. Make great hogs from next to junk but ... still."
Tony heard a distinctive ding and winced slightly as Abby hung up in his ear. "Ooooo-kaaaay?" He called Jimmy to ask if he had the trike yet.
Jimmy agreed that he could bring the trike to the yard after work. "It's already at our place, Ducky's and mine." Ducky had gotten a bit 'testy' with Jimmy about always calling their home 'Ducky's place', he insisted that it was both their places and told Gibbs on the QT that Jimmy's name was now on the deed.
Tony called the junkyard and spoke to one of the men. He said that they had all the hogs almost done, they were just waiting for the trike and Tony's motor so they could match the paint. Tony had told them that he'd decided not to repaint his motor, as the paint job on it now was only a year old. Since it was True Marine Blue with gold metallic, it was a given that they weren't repainting that.
.
They were done with the last of their paperwork by 1500. Vance, well aware that he wasn't getting another lick of work out of anyone on the team, sent them all home. Ducky let Jimmy go as well, only cautioning him not to get used to leaving early.
Jimmy just smiled at Ducky and nodded. "Okay, sir, I won't."
Ducky smiled back with obvious fondness. "And don't worry about me," he winked slyly. "Do remember that Abigail is meeting me in the morning and we're going to Las Vegas together. I'm truly looking forward to her presentation. Now. Go along with you."
Jimmy just hurried to get out of his scrubs and into street clothing. It didn't take him long to get home, change again, and start the trike. It ran like ten miles of bad road, shivering and shuddering. He wondered if they could give it a good tune-up while they were at it. He decided it couldn't hurt to ask.
He rumbled down the highway, carefully watching traffic. He was a bit startled to be joined by a huge motor until he realized that it was Tony. He glanced over to admire the color and realized that Tony was riding a three-year-old Harley cruiser. He raised a fist to let Tony know he'd seen him and rode on.
They reached the yard quickly, and Jimmy hopped off the trike to push the buzzer.
"Yeah?"
"Um ... Palmer and DiNozzo. We're here to leave our motors."
"Okay ..." The gate buzzed. "Come in."
Tony drove in first, followed closely by Jimmy. They parked in front of the shack pretending to be an office and walked in. There was a woman sitting behind a desk situated behind the counter. She looked up, sighed, and asked, "Okay, who let you in and why didn't my intercom beep?" she realized the second part of her question wasn't in their power to answer and said, "Never mind that, who are you? What do you need?"
Tony told her, "Might want to tell someone in the shop that they've crossed a wire somewhere. I wouldn't want a nastier surprise than us wandering in. Oh, and expect a few more people soon. We're actually waiting on the rest of our crew before we look at anything."
The woman, whose name appeared to be Wynona, or so the name plate on the desk said, just nodded, "Ok, have a seat. Not that I'd actually recommend sitting on that thing." She nodded to a shabby, oily couch.
Tony eyed it for a moment then said, "Oh, no thanks, I'll stand."
Jimmy eyed it too and agreed, "I'm good. Won't be long, I think."
Tony turned back to Wynona. "While we're waiting ... who do I talk to about matching paint?"
"Me. I'm the color match expert. The guys are all great at what they do, but none of 'em have an eye for paint color." She dragged out a huge book and dropped it on the counter with a bang.
Tony motioned to the door. "Motor's outside. We need to match it, as I'm not repainting mine. Paint job cost a pretty penny."
Wynona looked out the window then nodded. "Ok, I can see that. Let's take a look."
They all went out to see Tony's motor. Wynona was impressed. "Very nice. Harley Fat Boy." Tony grinned. "That paint sure isn't factory."
Tony shrugged. "Laid it down. Decided to add a bit to the insurance payout and get something a bit special." He opened a saddlebag and took some papers from the custom top pocket. "Here's the bill. Ought to be able to get a number off it."
Wynona examined the paper, nodded and headed back for the office. "Get this back to you in a sec, hun. That paint is factory with ..." she squinted at it for a moment. "Addition of gold metallic fleck, fine. No problem with any of this. And names on the tank in gold line work?" she disappeared inside.
Jimmy leaned against his trike. "I think I'll stay out here. She wears Tabu, and it's going to make me sneeze in a minute." He rubbed his nose then sneezed several times. "Not that attractive a smell, combined with stale sweat, burnt oil, and beer."
Tony snickered. "Right. We can hang here just as easy as not." He settled against his own motor, crossing his arms over his chest and one ankle over the other.
Jimmy chuckled softly. "Very James Dean."
Tony glowered halfheartedly but allowed, "Movie. Another two."
Jimmy grinned at him.
.
Gibbs decided to ride with the SEALs to save on vehicles on site. He wasn't sure he really wanted either of his vehicles at a junkyard. He called Tim to make sure that they were still picking him up. They were.
After getting Tim, it was about twenty minutes to the junkyard. They discussed exactly what they wanted in a motor on the way.
Everyone was agreed that they wanted cruisers, instead of some sort of low rider with an extended fork and ape hangers. One, they were dangerous to ride and two, they looked silly. A pea tank was also out of the question. Everyone agreed on twin 'fat' tanks. And wide saddle bags. Gibbs allowed that he also wanted a helmet trunk as he didn't want a helmet valued at upwards of two hundred dollars hanging off the handlebars.
Remy announced, "An' the helmets all have to have Bluetooth or something. I'm not gonna be out a' touch with you all."
Tim thought for a moment, "I can set up something like our earwigs. We can mount the master on the trike. And I want a modular helmet. You know, one of those that the chin piece and face shield both slide up. Easier to take off and less chances of messing up the mike. Built in speakers and mic would be nice." He noticed that everyone except Dean, who was driving, was looking at him. "What? I did some research. I've even picked a nice model that can be painted."
Cosmo thought then asked, "The Torc T27?"
"Yeah, looks nice, not that expensive, and comes with three different visors. Yellow, smoke, and clear."
Gibbs shrugged. "If you did the research, it sounds okay to me. I take a medium."
Everyone else gave their sizes and Tim entered the information on his iPad for later. "Still have to see about Jimmy and AJ. I know he already has a helmet but I need to make sure it's compatible with the system I'm looking at."
They were now at the gate, which Tim hacked without even thinking about it. The gate slid open and Dean drove through. He parked at the office building next to the trike.
Everyone got out of the SUV squabbling genially about something or other. Remy walked over to take a look at the trike. Dean and Cosmo soon followed. They were inspecting the box over the rear wheels when the owner, Dusty, came around the end of the office building and said, "Hey. Ready to see what we got?"
Gibbs answered for all of them. "Sure are. You want the trike and AJ's bike brought around?"
"Yeah. Need to get a good look at both. Ya want names on the tanks? That include ... um, AJ's?" He glanced over his shoulder.
Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. We all want names, just ..." he shrugged. "Because, I guess."
Dusty laughed. "I know it seems strange, but it really helps when you have similar paint jobs. And all the motors we built for you look very similar. Same frames, fenders, and whatnot. You know what kind of tanks you want?"
Gibbs went over the things they'd decided on with Dusty while they waited for Tony and Jimmy to come around. Dusty rolled back the shop doors to let them ride right in.
"Park over there." Dusty motioned to Tony then pointed to a different bay. "You over there. We're gonna take that thing apart to paint it. While we do we'll make sure it's solid. Big problem with homemade trikes is ... they have a tendency to break in the middle. Not on my watch, though."
Wynona came in the walk-in door with a can in one hand and some papers in the other. She handed one sheet to Tony, saying, "Here's your documentation back, put it up now before you forget and shove it into a pocket." She watched as Tony did exactly that, well aware that she was right. Wynona turned to Dusty. "And here's the mix." She grinned. "That's the test can. I'll mix the main batch once it's approved. And the gold for the detailing is on the shaker." She turned and left after one last look around.
Dusty took the can, poured the paint into the cup of an air brush and sprayed some on a piece of sheet metal. "Looks good. Gather around. The color won't change much when it dries."
Everyone gathered around to look at the paint. It matched Tony's motor perfectly.
"Ok, we've got the paint. We've got the specs. Now, all I need to do is measure your inseam." Dusty waited expectantly.
Dean obliged. "Okay, why measure inseams?"
"So I can set the suspension. I want each of you to be able to put your foot flat on the ground. None of this tippy-toe shit. Dangerous. If you slip, you've lost it and your motor is down. This way, you can get your whole foot on the ground with less chance of slipping." He produced a tape measure from a nearby tool box and went about the business quickly.
They cracked the usual jokes men do in a situation like that. Dusty just snarked right back. He finished, tossed the tape back into the tool box and said, "Okay, you guys, we've got what we need. You can come back on Saturday afternoon, late, to check the paint; we'll have the motors together by Monday."
Jimmy, who had escaped the indignity of being measured due to the fact that his motor was a trike, asked, "What about the difference between wood and sheet metal ... um ... when it comes to paint."
Dusty eyed the trike for a moment, then admitted. "Didn't think of that. You have any objections to us replacing that box with something a bit sturdier?"
Jimmy, who had planned carefully for exactly that, said, "No. I was thinking of a fiberglass box. I saw a nice one online. Depends on how quickly you can get it and how much it costs."
Dusty just grinned. "I got stuck with a box couple a' months ago. It'll do the job an' I'll let you have it for cost, just to get it out of storage. Come take a look."
The trunk turned out to be a modular thing that looked somewhat like the rear end of a DeSoto, only about a third the size. Jimmy approved it at once. Especially when Dusty told him he could have it for $1100 instead of the book of $1800.
Then they all trekked back to the office to pick saddlebags and trunks.
This led to the last round of choices. Tim sat down with Wynona to get the com system set up.
"AJ, I need a quick look at your helmet." Tim frowned absently at a catalogue that Wynona had handed him.
"Why?" Tony was already headed for the door to retrieve his helmet from the trunk on his motor.
"Need to make sure it's compatible with the base I've got picked out. Bluetooth-capable and all that."
Tony turned around and ambled over to perch on the edge of Wynona's desk. "It's Bluetooth-compatible, password-protected, and scramble-capable."
Tim flipped pages, replying absently, "Oh, okay. Good." He put the catalogue down. "Wynona, we'll take this one, mounted on the trike, and we need five Torc T27's in these sizes." he poked at his iPad for a second, checked to see that the file had transferred, then continued, "With these names painted on them. Dusty already has them for the motors."
Wynona checked her monitor to make sure she had everything. "Okay ... weird names you guys picked. Digimon? Viper? What the hell?"
Tony shrugged. "Do tend to get odd names in our line of work. I'm Honey Badger. Just put Badger on the lid."
Wynona shrugged, "Okay, your lid, your name. We'll have everything done by Monday, like Dusty said. I'd say come by Sunday early. Saturday late, maybe. Since this is such a big job, we'll work the overtime to get it done. Now ... business. How you wanna pay for this?"
"Each man is paying for his own motor. Mostly PIF. I think Jimmy might have to make payments."
One thing most people don't really understand about motorcycles is, new ones cost up to thirty-two thousand dollars, or more; junkyard hogs are less than a quarter of that. Most of the expense is in labor, as the parts are actually junk. The engine can be costly as they're still good, but the rest is reclaimed scrap. In the case of these motors, the saddle bags, trunks, and electronics were what added to the cost.
Gibbs smiled at Wynona. "Just print out invoices by name and hand 'em out."
Wynona glanced around the group and did what Gibbs suggested. She explained, "Due to one thing and another, we're looking at about five thou per. That trike, due to the fact that all the hard work is done, three. So ..." she gathered the handful of printouts and handed them to Gibbs. "Here; you know who's who. Hand that mess out." She grinned. "Form a line and I'll deal with you one at a time. And no horseplay in the office."
Cosmo, who'd been about to give Dean a wet willy, slunk back to lean against the far end of the counter.
Dean eyed him for a moment. "Oh, you were not. You do and I'll whack you."
Remy grabbed Dean. "No whacking people. Get you thrown out."
Dean reacted to the headlock by tickling Remy, who would deny squealing like a pig.
Tony turned around just in time to see Cosmo goose Jimmy. Jimmy retaliated by grabbing Cosmo around the waist and picking him up.
Wynona just eyed them then turned to Gibbs. "You tell me why the hell I even bother. Every time I tell a bunch of guys no horseplay, they go nuts."
Gibbs shrugged. "You tell me; then we'll both know." He whistled shrilly. "Okay, you dipsticks, line the fuck up and behave yourselves."
Tony added, "Unless you want to meet me on the mats. Or Gibbs."
Dean looked properly horrified. "Oh, no. No, that's okay. I'll behave. Line ..." he pointed to his feet, "right here."
Cosmo just straightened his clothing and got behind Dean.
Remy added himself to the end, behind Jimmy, who'd jumped in behind Dean before Remy could.
Tim, since he was sitting at the desk, was first in line; Tony, sitting on the desk, was next. Gibbs calmly jumped the line, adding himself to the front. No one protested that.
It didn't take long to figure out that everyone, Jimmy included, was PIF. Wynona was so pleased she actually hugged Gibbs.
Gibbs flushed a bit, chuckled, then said, "Sorry, you're not my type."
Tony winked at her and added, "Nope, not a red head."
Wynona patted her hair. "No, but I could be." She winked back then said, "But I don't think Dusty would like it much. We've been married for ... 28 years." She smiled, a distant, wistful look in her eye.
Gibbs, thinking of three failed marriages, said, "Congratulations."
Wynona snapped back to the present. "Well, thanks, hun. Now. Just because I'm nosey. What are you gonna do with your motors?"
Tim answered that. "We're all on leave for two weeks. Use it or lose it. So we're going on a road trip. Some camping, bit of fishing. Visit relatives."
Wynona thought for a moment then asked, "Camping gear? How much."
Gibbs eyed the group. "Well ... considering the idiots we are. Probably not that much."
Tony shook his head. "No! Just no. Not only no, but hell no! I'm not roughing it. Tent, sleeping bag, ground cloth, blue pad. And cooking gear up the yin-yang. I do with nothing way too often to want to do that on vacation. Last op ... well, we got out with ... never mind."
Remy nodded. "No roughing it for us. We're a bunch of wimps. I don't mind camping out, but ... all the bells and whistles for me too."
Dean and Cosmo agreed, loudly.
Jimmy eyed Tim who just shrugged. "I'm not that fond of roughing it either. I like camping― Webelos leader, after all― but there's no need to sleep in a sand hole and eat cattail roots on a vacation."
Jimmy shrugged. "I've never taken a survival course, and not too sure I want to. I do like my creature comforts."
Gibbs looked on with some amusement as they argued about what was necessary and what was frivolous; he finally turned to Wynona. "Is there any way to safely tow a trailer?"
"Yeah, we've got a nice one that'll go great behind that trike. It'll hold about three cubic feet of stuff, weighing around 350 lbs. That's a good size tent, and a camp kitchen plus some odds and ends. The rest of your gear needs to fit in the trunk of the trike or your saddle bags."
Gibbs admitted, "We were planning to put the tent in the trunk of the trike but we forgot one small thing." He chuckled. "Jimmy and Tim are on that and they have sleeping bags and clothing to haul."
Wynona laughed. "Don't forget that you need food and laundry stuff. Bet you didn't think of that."
Tony smiled, replying, "I did. I got a bar of all purpose Naphtha soap. So does everyone else. Or they will before we leave. And I know how to work a washboard."
Gibbs shrugged. "I just find a convenient rock. Wuss."
Cosmo interjected, "I prefer a laundromat, fuck you very much. Christ on a cracker."
Wynona shook her head, shoved them all in the general direction of their wheels and said, "Go the hell home. Come back later."
Tony waved his cell at her. "Call me. We'll stay out of your hair until then."
She acknowledged, "That'll work. Scram."
So they all got into the SUV's and headed out.
.
TDA - temporary duty agent
TAD - temporary assigned duty.
(It's confusing, but I looked it up. A person is a TDA who is on TAD. Don't you love governmental acronyms?)
Have no idea if Primacord will really survive a run through a washing machine and have no intention of experimenting.
Yes, it takes up to 23 numbers to reach someone in a government agency, first you dial the phone number, then the division(+4) then the office (+4) then the desk (+4). Or you deal with one of those interminable phone tree traps.
PIF - paid in full