Disclaimer: I do not own anything NCIS, except for the first 7 seasons on DVD...
A/N: This story came to me during an attack from a Plot Bunny. Those suckers sure do bite hard...
"That fat French fuck has been dead all these years and he's still haunting us," the man in the lieutenant's seat spat out. "We just can't get out of his shadow."
"We will, Colin. We will. Be patient." Colin looked at the man on his left, the man at the head of the table, with disbelief.
"Seriously? Pops, we..."
"Quiet, Colin," his father snapped. "Rene Benoit may have been a sneaky man in life but his reach will only go so far in death. We will simply wait out this sudden burst of energy the French families have. They will burn themselves out eventually. Those who are patient will benefit in the aftermath."
"That may take some time, Sir. What do we do while we wait?" a third man pointed out. He sat across from Colin, in the other lieutenant's seat, and held himself in a more calm demeanor.
"Survive." Came the simple reply. "We out lasted the Russians. We out lasted the Italians. We will out last the French. Continue with business, as always."
Most of the men at the table gave their various forms of acknowledgment, shuffling through their papers to make sure they didn't forget anything. That last sentence from the Don was a common dismissal for the end of their meetings.
"Mickey," The Don spoke up, interrupting the others. He was smiling knowingly at the man who sat at the other end of the table. "You haven't made a peep since you arrived. Care to comment on anything we've covered?"
Colin smirked, leaning back in his chair. He knew this would be good. As Mickey's roommate all their years together at college, he understood how the man thought.
"As the only one here who's had any sort of friendly relationship with Rene Benoit and his family, it's clear to me that the French families are only so arrogant because Rene's quote unquote 'throne' remains empty." Mickey sat forward in his seat as he spoke, creating a steeple with his fingers on the table.
"Go on." The Don pressed. Mickey gave him a wicked grin before letting out a nonchalant shrug.
"Then it's simple, isn't it? Get his daughter to name a successor. Surely her word will have more say with the families than that of the CIA's." Colin burst out laughing when Mickey finished speaking.
"That, my brother, is genius!" Colin chortled, pointing Mickey as he spoke.
"But how will we convince her to do so, Mickey?" The Don asked, ignoring his son's outburst. The younger man's grin turned from wicked to cocky.
"Let me worry about that."