Pseudo-SEAL Chapter 1

Pseudo-SEAL

Author's note: This story overlaps with the previous one just a bit. All notes are at the end of the last chapter. As I've written this in one go then divided it into chapters, that's where they ended up.

Betaed by Jake and Jordre

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Gibbs looked around at his living room. It was full of bodies; luckily, not dead ones—Although he was sure that a couple of the men slept like the dead. Jimmy Palmer was sprawled across the couch. This was stranger than it might seem, as Dean and Remy were sitting on it. This meant that Jimmy was actually lying in their laps.

Tony was curled up in one of the recliners, while Cosmo was in the other. Tim McGee was sacked out in a sleeping bag on the floor. The TV was still running some infomercial or other; sweepers maybe. Gibbs was well aware that, if he turned off the TV, everyone in the room would wake at once.

It had been like this since Abby had broken Tony's ribs with one of her super-hugs. Tony claimed he didn't mind, and he probably didn't, but everyone else was upset, even Abby. When Tony had been discharged from the hospital, he'd gone home, but he'd finally moved in with Gibbs, at his insistence. Cosmo and Dean were moved in for the foreseeable future, paying rent and splitting utilities. They all made sure that Tony, or AJ, took his meds and pain pills, and ate properly. And that had been a full-time job for all of them.

A groan dragged Gibbs from his thoughts. Tim was waking up.

Gibbs touched him on the shoulder and whispered, "Quiet. Don't want the whole pack awake at once. You'll never get a shower."

Tim absently sniffed his pits then made a face. "Right, Boss. I'll just ease up to the bathroom. Thanks."

Gibbs patted him on the shoulder and went into the kitchen to set up the coffee. He was now the proud owner of an industrial, restaurant-size Bunn coffee maker. It barely kept up.

After filling several filters with a pre-measured amount of coffee, Gibbs took the pot out of the Bunn and poured it into a pressure pot, then started another pot.

While he was doing that, Jimmy woke up and wandered in. He helped himself to coffee, then sat down at the table. "Gibbs."

Gibbs grunted.

"Tony's going to need watching when he begins his PT again. If he overdoes it at first, he's going to lose most of the ground he's gained."

"I know. I've got an idea about that. I need to train up some; got lazy. You need to train. Just do." He eyed Jimmy for a moment, waiting for some argument, but it didn't come.

Jimmy thought for a moment then said, "I know. I'm soft, and that's going to get me hurt, sooner or later. Tim will probably join us. The others?" He made that a question.

"They'll all train with us. Maintenance mostly. But that's important too. So ... how do we go about it?" Gibbs wasn't afraid to ask for suggestions, contrary to popular belief. He just didn't tolerate stupid ones very well.

"Easy. Tony's a trained instructor. We just get him to make up a schedule that we can all do. Might hold him back just enough to keep him from hurting himself." Jimmy peeked at Gibbs over his mug.

"Good. Need to talk to him then." Gibbs drank coffee. He took the second pot out of the brewer and poured it into the thermal pressure pot. The pump held three of the pots that fit in the Bunn.

Cosmo wandered in, scratching his butt and grumbling. Dean followed closely behind.

Remy stuck his head in, asked, "Where's McGee?"

Gibbs grunted, "Shower. Coffee."

Remy took the offered mug and settled at the table.

They drank in silence, Gibbs making a constant stream of coffee until Tony finally showed.

He eased into a seat, nursing his still-sore bones. Gibbs plopped a cup of coffee in front of him, Remy made a long arm and then shoved the creamer across the table to him.

"Thanks. Gibbs?" Tony gave him a questioning look.

"Need to talk to you about PT. For all of us. That schedule you set up before that Homeland fiasco was good. Need another."

Tony glanced around. All the others nodded or grunted their assent. "Okay. Challenge is to be SEAL-ready, all at the same time. Gibbs?"

"Count me in."

Jimmy announced. "Me too. If I'm going to be working with NCIS, I need to be in better shape. I'm gonna get hurt, somehow, if I don't."

Tony nodded. "Okay."

Tim wandered in in sweats. "Okay. I'm takin' up the challenge, too. I'll keep up with you two or die trying."

Tony eyed him. "Yeah. Okay."

Tim pointed to his face. "See. Serious face. I mean it."

Tony just pointed to Gibbs. "He's going to have to okay it. And Ducky will give you a once-over. Jimmy too."

Tim shrugged, he'd known that Tony was going to make him jump through hoops to do this.

Tony thought while he ate. "Okay, I've got to requal for both NCIS and SEALs. That's going to take some doing. I'll set up the program for all of us. I've got that spread sheet you made up last time. You do the entries?"

Tim nodded, took the offered coffee and said, "Sure. Just like last time. I know I'm never going to be really good, but I'd like to try my best."

Gibbs did something he rarely did: he smacked Tim on the back of the head. "Shut it. You and Jimmy can do this. Just might take a bit more time than you like. And hurt more. But I'm at least ten years older than you and I'm doin' it. Tony?"

Tony nodded. "I'm gonna have ta take a bit more time than usual to get back in shape. Those guys..." he jerked his thumb at Dean, Remy and Cosmo, "they're all in need of a good rest. We're all ... mentally exhausted. Command has ordered that we stand down for the foreseeable future, unless there's a pressing need. So. We take our time and do it right. Jimmy, make appointments with Duck for all three of us. I'd have you examine Tim and me but you'd still need an exam, so we might as well make a play-date of it." He grinned at Jimmy, who just shrugged and got out his phone.

A quick dial later and he was saying, "Dr Mallard says he'll be over in twenty. We're to be ready for him." He looked at Tony, who was finishing his second cup of coffee. "That means stripped down to minimum and ready to be poked in uncomfortable places, prodded everywhere else and stuck like a pincushion. Ow!" The last was caused by Dean smacking him in the head. "What was that for?"

"Don't rub it in. Last time he had to take a physical, AJ took off. Had to literally stuff him into a jeep and drag him back."

Tony announced, "It's the needles, dude. Hate 'em. No reason they can't take all the blood they want all at once. Instead they stick me, take blood, pull out the needle, then decide they want more and do it all over again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Ad infinitum. Sucks."

Jimmy shook his head. "Military. They're at least six years behind the times. I'll do the blood draw on you two, and Dr Mallard will do me. One needle, one stick, multiple draws. He'll bring vials for all of us; Abby will process it tomorrow. Stop being such a whiny little girl."

Tony glowered at Jimmy, which had absolutely no effect at all. He just glowered back. "Asshole."

Jimmy just shrugged, "Comes with being an ME's assistant. Suck it up and deal."

They bickered a bit more, in the way of friends, then sat down to eat after Jimmy assured them that a fasting blood sugar wasn't one of the necessary tests.

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Ducky arrived, with his backpack full of medical equipment and vials. He smiled genially around, accepted the mug of tea Remy offered and settled at the dining room table. "Now then. What do you need, exactly?"

Tony explained what they were going to do and what he thought they needed. Ducky agreed to the blood tests but announced that, as he had already certified Tony as healed, all he needed was blood pressure, temperature, pulse and resting respiration rate in addition to the general blood workup. This would establish a baseline to compare against.

Jimmy, with Dr Mallard looking on, took several vials of blood from Tim. Tim just turned his head and took it. He wasn't needle-shy and it was, as Jimmy assured him, 'just a little stick.'

Tony, on the other hand, admitted that, try as he might, he was probably going to flinch all over the place. It had nothing to do with the pain; it was all psychological.

Gibbs got up and walked over to Tony. He arranged Tony in his chair, sideways to the table with his arm stretched out on the table then eased close, trapping Tony between his body and the heavy, handmade table. "Easy. Turn your head." Gibbs urged Tony to press his face against his abdomen, covered Tony's eyes with one gentle hand and nodded.

Dean touched Tony's wrist in warning then pressed it to the table with both hands. Jimmy quickly inserted the needle and started his draw, talking all the while. "Okay, Tony. Needle is in. One vial. You think I could learn to shoot? I think I'd like that. Not that I want to shoot someone but target shooting looks like so much fun. Three vials and I'm ... done." He quickly removed the tourniquet, pulled the needle out of Tony's arm and pressed a cotton ball to the sluggishly bleeding dot. "Bend. And ... hold. Good."

Tony was proud of himself, in that he hadn't struggled, but he was a bit pink-cheeked that Gibbs had had to hide his face from the needle.

Gibbs shrugged. "Shut up. You need help, I'm here to do it." he turned to Ducky. "We good?"

"Yes, as soon as I have Tim's blood, James' and yours."

Gibbs made a face. He hated having blood drawn about as much as Tony; he just handled it better.

Gibbs offered his hand to Tony, who took it. Jimmy inserted the needle. Gibbs muttered, "Fuck." but held still. Tony held Gibbs' hand through the process, only letting go when Jimmy said, "Bend and hold."

Then it was Jimmy's turn. Ducky eased the needle into his arm, drawing a soft hiss from Jimmy's lips. He bore with the process about the same as Tim had. It was obvious that he wasn't pleased but he was stoic.

As soon as all the vials were tucked away in his pack, Dr Mallard excused himself saying, "Well, you're all healthy as a herd of horses. I'll take this blood in right away. I want to get it to the lab as quickly as possible; this bag doesn't have a cold pack." He stood up and reached for his bag.

Dean just hefted it and said, "I got it, Ducky. Let me escort you to your car." He offered his hand to the elderly doctor and pulled him to his feet.

"Why thank you, Dean. I appreciate it. Come along then. You know, my car is a Morgan. Did you know that it has a wooden frame? Mine was quite badly ..." his voice trailed off as the two men made their way to the front door.

Dean returned a few minutes later, amusement plain on his face. "Incredible man. That Morgan is something else. You did a good job on that frame, Gibbs."

Gibbs just shrugged. "No problem. Mostly straight lines. The bolt holes were a bit rough. Metric. Had to go out and buy a whole set of drill bits for three sizes." He shrugged, sipped his coffee and continued, "Really worth it though, used 'em dozens of times since."

Tim sighed.

"Man, you blowin' on your soup?" Remy eyed Tim uneasily.

"No. Just ... I know I'll never measure up to your standards and ... well, it's discouraging." Tim hung his head a bit.

Cosmo reached over and grabbed him by the shoulder. "You're going to do fine. We'll see to that."

Tony snorted. "Man, you'll do great. You've got that ... something that a man needs to be a SEAL."

Tim looked up. "What thing?"

"Don'no. Just ... it's a combination of stubbornness, strength and a willingness to do what needs to be done to do the job. You've got it. I have self-esteem issues, Daddy issues, no denying it. But you're just as bad. I'll prove you have it. Just give me a chance. All right?"

Tim blinked at Tony, then Gibbs. "Okay. Boss?"

Gibbs just shrugged. "You're on my team, aren't you? I'd like to have a real talk with your Dad. I swear."

Tim frowned for a moment then said, softly, "He doesn't like to be called Daddy or Dad. It was always Father."

Tony snorted. "I never called my Ol' Man anything but Father." He gave Tim a wry look. "We're really a pair. So. I'll start on a PT that we can all keep up with. You three ..." he looked at Dean, Remy and Cosmo. "you'll stay up to speed by continuing after we fall out."

Dean just shrugged. "Okay, AJ, that's fine."

Gibbs sighed, "Okay, curiosity is killing me. Why do you call him AJ?"

Tony glanced at him then at Tim. "Because that's what I prefer. When I was a kid everyone called me Junior, because that's what my father called me. I hate it. Junior is not a name, it's a generational identifier. Really pisses me off when some condescending ass calls me Junior. When I started RIMA there were five or six Anthonys in my class alone. Popular name about the time I was born. So we all went by initials to keep us straight. Since there were three ADD's ..." Remy and Tim both snorted laugher while Jimmy just grinned like a loon. "Shut up. Anyway. One of us got stuck with TD, another AD. Since I'm Anthony Junior, I was AJ. I don't mind that, kinda like it actually. And I really prefer it to Tony. Too easy to mix me up with Father dearest. And I'm really sick of his 'I'm the real Tony,' shit. What am I? Plastic?"

Gibbs nodded. "Sounds like me an' 'Leroy.' Rather be called 'asshole.' Seriously." He made a mental note to call Tony AJ, off the job.

Tony nodded. "Right. Like I've got a death wish."

Tim snorted. Calling Leroy Jethro Gibbs out of his name was suicidal.

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Tony settled down to work on his training routine; the rest of the guys wandered off to various pursuits. Tim said he was going home to take care of his dog and get out of everyone's hair. Jimmy also went home to study, complaining that 'every damn professor he had seemed to think they were the only one who assigned work'. He also complained about his hours at the hospital. He was overloaded, but determined to keep up.

Tony watched as Jimmy left; he did look overtired: shoulders slumped, steps dragging. "Well, he looks about done in. Wonder if ... I think I should make a call." He got his phone and called Belt, explained Jimmy's problem and was told that it would be taken care of.

Jimmy would never know, nor would he have cared if he did, that Lieutenant Sam Brown dropped a word in someone's ear that James Palmer's student advisor was an idiot. The man was overloaded because he was holding down a job at NCIS, finishing required classes, and working as an intern at Howard University. Something had to give. What gave was the hospital― Palmer didn't really need OB/GYN, peds, or orthopedics to be an ME. James Palmer was transferred out of the rotation, marked as passed, and was a full doctor in less than 48 hours. When he later asked Tony how that had happened, he was told in a smug, rather self-satisfied tone, "What SEALs want, SEALs get."

Tony consulted with Gibbs and decided that not only should they start a conditioning regimen, but Jimmy should be taught at least basic self-defense. Enough that, as Gibbs said, he could punch and run. They added daily martial-arts workouts to the list.

Tony and Remy put their heads together and agreed that Dean was the best to teach newbies. He was the most patient of them when it came to that sort of thing.

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Ducky took his draw to Abby who cheerfully began the tests. These tests were about the same as the ones an MMA fighter would take. They included a general health panel as well as several other tests. Abby sighed and eyed the check sheet. She was well aware that she'd be running the same tests on a regular basis. These tests were just to establish a baseline. Tony's tests would have to be compared with earlier tests because of his recovery.

She wondered vaguely if Vance was going to throw a fit. Most of the tests were fairly inexpensive, hematocrit to test red cell levels, basic chemistry panels and so on. But a couple were a bit more expensive: cholesterol and some micro-nutrients, but they were necessary now.

She ran the tests in between all the things that pertained to cases. She printed out two reports for each set of tests and filed one in her private file. The other went to Ducky.

Abby was well aware that she wasn't going to see much of her friends and co-workers for a while. She was still working; so were Ducky and Jimmy, but Gibbs, Tim, and Tony were desk-bound until Tony requalified. She'd gotten a note from Ziva that said she was in inpatient therapy for at least 9 months. She'd write again when she could have mail and visitors. Abby sighed; she missed Ziva, but knew that following doctor's orders was for the best.

Abby glanced at the clock and realized that all her tests were done; she could go home on time, for once. She happily gathered up all her things and scurried out the door before something new came up. She was going to spend the weekend with the nuns.

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Tony spent a day getting all his ducks in a row. He had a guideline that all SEALs followed, but it was usually modified to suit the circumstances. In this case, he, Tony, was recovering from injury. Tim and Jimmy were both 'boots'― raw recruits. He was going to have to be careful with them to make sure that they didn't overdo and really hurt themselves. Gibbs was somewhere between Tony, and Tim and Jimmy. He wasn't exactly sure where, so he decided that his first step was to test all of them to see where they were on a scale of one to ten, one being couch potato and ten being SEAL combat-ready. He wasn't looking forward to it.

Gibbs walked in while he was finishing up.

"What's that?" Gibbs set a cup of coffee by Tony's elbow and settled in a nearby chair.

"PT eval. I have to test each of us to see where we are in relation to where we need to be." Tony explained his rating system to Gibbs then asked, "Your input?"

Gibbs sipped his coffee for a moment. "Well, Tim is a flat five. Good enough for NCIS but ..." He shrugged. "A bit on the flabby side. Willing, though." He considered for a moment. "Jim is unknown, but I'd say he's stronger than he looks." Tony gave him a disbelieving look. "He wrestles those bodies mostly on his own. Ducky's too old to be that much help." Tony wrote that down. "As to me. I'm good. A solid seven or eight, depending on your eval. But I've been slacking for a bit, just because. Need to get over that."

Tony nodded. "Okay. I'm a solid eight, so I think you are too. A Saturday on the grinder will tell its own tale. Get an early night that night, up, breakfast, drive to Quantico. Okay?"

Gibbs nodded. "Send out emails and all that. Who's DI?"

"Not you. Probably be me." Tony made a face. That wasn't going to be fun. He hated having to drive his friends like he drove his team, but ... he'd hate it even worse if one of them got hurt or killed because he couldn't do the job. Besides that, he'd rather be in better shape than the people he was training.

Gibbs watched Tony's expressive face for a few moments then said, "Don't worry about being in bad shape. Gives Tim and Jimmy a better idea of what they're capable of. But, if you're really worried, we'll start a week earlier than they do. I'm already running with Dean and Cosmo. Remy comes by about twice a week."

Tony gave Gibbs the evil eye. "Well, fuck. I'm so screwed. Why didn't I know this?"

Gibbs gave Tony that sly, wry smile of his and said, "Well, you were a bit busy recovering. And even the pain pills that you can take still make you a bit woozy. That's why I finally had you move over here for the duration. Deal."

Tony nodded and went back to his schedule. "Okay, that means that I need a re-eval. Tim and Jimmy need an eval. You? I'd like an eval just for my own peace of mind. That means..." Tony gave a hollow groan. "Remy as evaluator."

"He that bad?" Gibbs wondered if there was going to be a problem.

"No, he's that good. He'll rack an' sack us then tell us how fucked up we are. He's ruthless. But..." Tony sighed. "it's necessary. I rather not get killed because some jerk didn't do the eval right."

Gibbs nodded his agreement. "Right. So, early morning?"

Tony sourly agreed, "Yeah, early. 0600?"

"Yeah. Up, run, home, gym?" Gibbs made the last word a question. Tony nodded. "Then home again, shower, office. We'll be on cold cases until further notice. You'll be coming in with me. Strictly desk duty until you're cleared. I see you even thinking about going into the field and I'll chain you to your desk again."

Tony didn't even bother to think about whining. He had dropped the empty-headed jock act like a used rubber. "Okay. I'd like to run a couple of my specials."

"Okay. Why don't you run 'em by the guys? Might get a different perspective." Gibbs decided to give up on keeping Tony's SEALs out of the office. They were on the Yard almost as much as they were at Quantico or Yorktown. In fact, now that Tony was outed they spent a lot of time in MTAC and at the SEAL Tactical Center located in an undisclosed area of the Yard. Tony knew where it was but no one in NCIS did; they didn't need to. If Gibbs wanted Tony, he could call him on his phone and he'd return to NICS within fifteen minutes.

"Sounds good. I've been thinking that maybe we should run all our cold cases. We've got a good solve rate but there are a few cases that ... just bother me. There's something I'm missing. You know?" Tony frowned at his laptop.

"I do. I've got a couple of specials that I'd like the guys to take a look at." He held up a hand before Tony could even open his mouth. "I know they're not agents, but when did I ever care about stuff like that?"

"Never, Boss." Tony just grinned at Gibbs.

Damn straight." He reached out and shut Tony's laptop. "AJ, enough. If you open that thing to do more than save, I'm gonna shrink-wrap ya to your rack."

Tony's brilliant smile and sparkling eyes told Gibbs that he'd pleased Tony. "Okay, Boss; just let me save and shut down. Then what?"

Gibbs shrugged, "Dinner. The locusts will be back in fifteen."

Tony was amused by this. He'd worried when Dean and Cosmo had moved in with Gibbs. He'd lived with Gibbs for a month when the heat and hot water had gone out shortly after he'd moved to DC. They'd driven each other to distraction. Tony had wanted to know what was in every box, drawer, closet and container in the house. Gibbs couldn't tolerate the nosiness. Tony had moved into a residence hotel for the next two weeks. Turned out that Dean didn't give a rat's ass about what was in anything but his room, and Cosmo just went through the kitchen to make sure that Gibbs had a proper wok.

Per their roommate agreement, which was actually in writing, Gibbs stayed out of Dean and Cosmo's room except in an emergency. And Dean and Cosmo stayed strictly away from Gibbs' tools and boat; in fact, they stayed out of the basement altogether, unless Gibbs called them down for some reason. The only thing Dean insisted on was household tools; Cosmo and Gibbs had agreed to that. Those tools stayed in the small closet between the kitchen and garage.

Tony was just glad that Gibbs had allowed him to stay in his home during his recovery. That was great as he hated being alone ―as opposed to being left alone― in his apartment, while he wasn't feeling well. He was taking meds round the clock, and it was so nice to just have someone wake him up, hand him pills, then let him go back to sleep. He hated having to get up, go to the kitchen, get the correct pill, take it, then get back to bed. He didn't keep pills by the bedside after accidentally taking the wrong one once. He'd been sick for another three days and gotten a thundering lecture from Belt about being too lazy to get up.

Gibbs was also a bear about eating. Tony was never hungry when he was sick or injured but Gibbs made food and expected him to eat it. It was easier to eat what Gibbs brought him than it was to argue him into taking it away. As a consequence, he was feeling much better, much quicker than normal.

He knew that his men would stay with him, but he was very reluctant to do that, past a certain point, as there were actual military regs against superior officers accepting services from their subordinates. He wasn't about to get himself or his men in that kind of mess. His superiors would understand but those above them probably wouldn't. He leaned back with a slight smile.

Gibbs saw and asked, "What's that smirk for?"

"Oh, just realized something. I've actually got someone to take care of me when I get hurt. Usually, I take care of myself but now that you know my MOAS, I can come to you when I get hurt again." Gibbs glowered at him. "Oh, come on, Boss, you know damn good an' well that I'm gonna get messed up again. Hazard of the job."

Gibbs nodded a bit reluctantly. "Yeah, okay. But you let me know at once. And Palmer and Ducky too." He opened a pack of hamburger and began to efficiently make up patties. "How many burgers can you eat?"

"Depends on the size. Quarter pounders, four or five. Third pounders, three for sure. Don't make 'em any bigger as they won't cook through."

Gibbs chuckled softly. "Well, they will, but the outside will be charcoal. I'll make enough for each of us to have three plus a couple of extras, just so the meat comes out. Start putting out the fixin's."

Tony just levered himself up from the chair he'd plopped into and started getting the mustard, ketchup, pickles and whatnot out of the fridge. "Boss, no onion?"

"Should be a thing with some in it. If there isn't, you could slice one or two." Gibbs washed his hands for the second time so he could handle the cheese without cross-contamination.

Tony found the onions and took two. "I'll slice two. Okay?"

"Good." Gibbs handed Tony a container. "Here. Slice 'em into this."

"Gotcha." Tony peeled the onion and sliced it thin. He wiped his hands and the knife on a paper towel before touching anything else. "Tomato?"

"If you want. I don't. It makes the bun too soggy." Gibbs stuck the tray of meat and cheese back in the fridge to stay cold until everyone was home.

"Boss, you should cover that." Tony was a bit particular about how things went into the fridge. After giving himself a nasty case of food poisoning due to improper storage he was a bit paranoid.

"Think?" Gibbs rummaged for the plastic wrap. "I don't usually mess with it if it isn't going to be more than a couple of hours."

"I'd rather do and not need to than not do it and get the GI's. Did that, didn't like it."

"Okay. When you're right, you're right." Gibbs covered the tray with plastic wrap and put it back.

A few minutes later Dean, Cosmo and Remy showed up for supper. Remy had been in and out while Tony was recovering, taking his turn at DiNozzo Duty with the rest.

Gibbs eyed them up then demanded, "Where's Palmer?"

"On his way. Ducky kept him after school. Too many bodies, not enough help. And don't get all wound up. It was some sort of sabotage of a humvee; one team's already got it. He said, half an hour."

Gibbs snorted. "Not a problem and I wasn't going to go haring off to save the world. Not when I'm down my best man." He eyed Tony for a moment then added, "Besides, Vance said he'd murder me if I came in without AJ. Seems he's the only one who can keep me from making the TADs cry."

Tony's phone rang. "DiNozzo." He listened for a moment then said, "Bring a pound of burger." he hung up then told Gibbs, "Tim's coming over. Said he'd bring French fries and stuff. I told him to bring more burger. We got buns?"

"Call him back and tell him to bring a pack. And whatever beer he likes."

Tony did as he was told and added, "And a six pack for me." He didn't bother to put his hand over the phone as he asked, "Guys? Beer?" He wound up telling Tim to bring Cosmo's favorite too. After hanging up he immediately took up a collection for Tim.

Tim arrived quickly, bearing the meat, buns and beer. He also brought chips.

Cosmo and Dean went to help him carry everything in.

Tim smiled at Dean, then handed him several grocery bags. "Here. How's AJ?"

"Doin' good. He's hundred per now. So, tomorrow the torture begins." Dean took the bags with a soft mutter of, "What the hell? You buy out the store?" but he ambled off.

Cosmo took the rest of the bags, announced, "You better have brought bar-b-que chips," and followed Dean.

Tim called after him, "You know I did. And who's torturing who? Or is it 'whom'?" He got the beer and followed them in.

He was soon moaning, "I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. I'm a dead man. Gibbs?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Don't have ta do it."

Tim sighed, "I know. But I want to. Then again, I don't." He looked around, expecting scorn. Instead he saw friendly faces.

Cosmo remarked, rather kindly, "No one likes PT. But we all know we have to do it, if we want to be SEALs. You ought to do it, just for the boost."

Dean nodded. "Self-confidence builder. So ... in or out?"

Tim sighed, "In. Someone kill me now."

Jimmy, who'd wandered in while they were talking, interjected, "Well, I'm doing it, just because, so ... no one kill me please." He eyed Tim, "and you ... get over yourself. You'll do fine. We'll all hurt, piss and moan, and do it. So ... when do we eat? I'm starved."

Gibbs chuckled. "As soon as I burn those burgers. I just hope they all fit on the grill."

Tony eyed Gibbs' grill. "If we're gonna be eating here a lot, you really ought to get a bigger one."

Cosmo nodded. "True. We'll all chip in."

Gibbs shook his head. "I've been intending to build a brick one for years. Just didn't seem worth the trouble for one or two steaks. Now, you two here and everyone in and out all the time... I'm building a grill and smoker. Just need to get the materials."

Tony eyed Gibbs. "You know how to lay brick?"

"No, but I can learn." Gibbs gathered up the tray of patties and cheese and headed for the back.

Remy shook his head. "Not a good thing to be learning on. I'll do it."

Cosmo nodded. "Good idea. Gibbs, you ought."

Jimmy held the door for Gibbs and joined the conversation. "Better. We had a guy in ER last month. He'd built his own and something wasn't done right, or something. Anyway, it blew out on him. Second and third degree burns, face and torso. Not good."

Gibbs shrugged. "Okay, make a list of what you need."

Remy shrugged back. "Sure thing. Just need to know where, how big and what."

Gibbs managed to crowd all the burgers on the grill, just barely. While they were cooking, he and Remy wandered around the patio, figuring out the best place to put the new grill, deciding whether to make it wood or gas and how big to make it.

They decided on wood with a gas starter, a grill and separate smoker, with a decent-sized prep top and one open burner for things like beans. The grill was to be seventy-four inches long by thirty-six wide. The smoker was to be a separate box, built on the bottom of the chimney, so that the coals could be raked into it from the grill with the addition of all the smoke and heat from the grill being routed through it. Gibbs wanted three 36" x 36" wire racks. Remy agreed to that, but said that it would make the prep top too small, unless they made the grill L-shaped. That meant they had to reverse the arrangement. He was amused to realize that, while Jethro had ideas, he wasn't that hard to convince. All you had to do was have all your facts in order.

They ambled back to the grill in time for Gibbs to flip the burgers.

While they'd been measuring, drawing, and deciding, Tony and Jimmy had been fixing buns. A quick bellow had let them know that everyone wanted cheeseburgers, so they'd put a slice of cheese on each bottom, then put pickles and onions on the tops. This left only condiments to add. This they left to the individual, as Tony hated mayo on his, while Tim said he was crazy. Jimmy wanted standard Mickey D, while Cosmo announced anyone who put ketchup on his meat was a barbarian.

They happily squabbled over what was proper for a burger while they drank beer, munched chips and waited for the meat to be done.

Gibbs finally announced, "Well, that's as good as it gets. Line up." he started putting finished patties on bun bottoms, letting Tim flip the tops over onto the bottoms and put them on a platter.

It took two platters to hold all the finished burgers. Jimmy had opened all the condiments and settled in a chair. The rest of the group also settled at the table, bringing beer and sodas with them.

It didn't take long for everyone to have their food all dressed properly for them. They settled in to eat and talk about their PT schedule.

They all agreed that their first step was an evaluation of current status, completed by Remy. Then Tony would set up a schedule that catered to the weakest of them, Jimmy and Tim. They finished eating and broke up to head for home. Dean and Cosmo helped Gibbs clean up, then they all plopped in front of the TV to watch something mindless until they went to bed.