Thanks again for your reviews, guys. Longer chapter this time, as requested…

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Chapter 2: An Offer You Can't Refuse

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Tony's eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings. It was a small, windowless concrete room, with a large plasma screen showing what was obviously the inside of his cell and a few uncomfortable looking chairs. These were occupied by an older man and an attractive brunette, both dressed in dark formal suits.

"Congratulations, Special Agent DiNozzo," said the man approvingly. "That was one of the most efficient escapes we've ever had."

"Had a lot of practice," he replied cautiously. "But it's always nice to know my efforts are appreciated."

"Allow us to introduce ourselves," said the woman, smilingly. "I am Special Agent Boyd; this is Agent Fisher. We're with the CIA."

"Uh huh," said Tony, unimpressed. "And I am here because…"

"We'd like to offer you a unique opportunity," Said Fisher.

"What, and you couldn't find me in the phone book?"

"More like we couldn't let anyone else discover our interest in you," Boyd informed him. "We want you to go on a deep cover op for us."

"You people seriously want me to be a spy?" Tony laughed heartily. "Oh, boy, Abby's going to love this. You people are even dumber than I thought."

"On the contrary, Agent DiNozzo," Fisher said. "You're the ideal man for the job, as you just proved."

"C'mon; McGee could've busted out of that room."

"But Agent McGee doesn't have experience of spending months at a time undercover. He doesn't speak three languages with fluency and he certainly can't inspire trust like you can."

"Yeah, but I can't type, so it's a fair trade off."

"Fortunately, that's one skill you won't require."

"So, suppose I say no," said Tony cautiously.

"Let's just say it's an offer you can't refuse," Fisher drawled.

Tony's smile turned almost feral. "Well, Agent Brando, let's assume for a minute that I'm very stupid."

"Our techs have produced a suicide note in your handwriting," Boyd informed him. "It details how you were physically and emotionally abused by your immediate superior, Special Agent Gibbs, and that you killed yourself because you couldn't take it any more."

"Please; no one's gonna buy that."

"We're very good at faking crime scenes, Agent DiNozzo; and we'll even have the right body," Fisher interjected meaningfully. "He'll at least lose his job, possibly face criminal charges. The rest of the team will scatter; your death will be a black mark on each of their records. None will ever be promoted again."

"And if I agree?"

"We'll fake your death as an RTA. Your friends will grieve, and then move on; you get to live, and work for us."

"Then I guess I don't have a lot of choice, do I," said Tony, resigned.

"I knew you'd see it our way, Tony," Agent Boyd smiled at him. "Oh; and if you should ever attempt to contact your friends or disobey our orders, you should know that the men we have watching them are very accomplished snipers."

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I hate priority rides, Tony thought bitterly to himself.

The CIA had wasted no time in putting him on a chopper to join a training camp way out in the middle of nowhere. He was crammed into an uncomfortable seat, still wearing the silk shirt, leather jacket and black jeans he'd worn out to the bar. He was freezing, his head and chest still hurt, and he was never going to see any of his friends again.

Idly, Tony wondered what their reactions would be. Gibbs would be even more pissy than usual, Abby would burst into tears, and McGee would be terrified of saying the wrong thing. Kate would probably decide it was his own fault and Ducky would tell the corpse he thought was Tony's some of his interminable stories.

It hurt to think of their grief; he was sure it wouldn't last long, but even so. Abby was the best friend he'd ever had and anyone who made her cry deserved to have Gibbs' displeasure explained to them. At great length. Possibly with exploded diagrams.

Unfortunately, in this case it was himself who had caused her pain.

Maybe the CIA would slip up. Maybe they would find something to know the crime scene was faked. And of course, there was Gibbs' famous gut to consider. Tony's faith in his boss was unshakable. If he had even the faintest suspicion that there was something hinky going on, he'd never stop until he had all the answers.

Still, this wasn't a terrorist or a murderer he was up against. It was the full might of the CIA and probably the rest of the alphabet soup as well. Tony had no doubt that they'd be keeping a very close eye on Gibbs. If he did find anything, they'd find a way to shut down the investigation; protecting their new asset.

Whatever this undercover op they needed him for was, it had to be damn important. Otherwise they wouldn'tve risked pissing Gibbs off like that. Or maybe they'd underestimated his boss; it wouldn't be the first time NCIS were dismissed because no one had ever heard of the acronym.

It was odd, really. His job and his workmates had been the focus of Tony's life for so long that now he felt almost like he was twelve years old again; sent off to military school to fend for himself. Then again, he reflected, that wasn't too far from the truth. His team was the only true family he'd ever had.

Tony's chest ached with loss as he thought about them. Abby's pigtails bobbing in time to the sound of screaming guitars; that quizzical expression McGee got when Tony referred to a movie he hadn't seen. The feel of Kate's elbow jabbing into his ribs and listening patiently to Ducky's long and rambling stories. But most of all, the warmth in Gibbs' eyes when he'd made him proud.

"We're starting the descent now, sir," one of the pilots called back.

Five minutes later, Tony was ducking out from under the rotor blades in a small forest clearing, where a man in camos waited for him.

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Your questions answered at last! What did you think?