He's Good

by Yanagi-wa

Everyone knows that Tony plays piano. They don't know how good he is. He agrees to a charity concert. There's also some moving involved.

3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It had taken them most of the day to get everything where they wanted it, but they were finally done. The family room was organized, thanks to Tim's ability to be everywhere at once. The TV, VCR, Blu-Ray, and cable were all hooked up and working properly. The Wi-Fi hub was installed in the library, hidden in a convenient nook behind a bookcase. Tony had put the stand-alone stereo system in the music room

The beds were made, Tony had noticed on a quick trip to his room with a misplaced box. He'd yelled, "Tim! Beds are made! Thank you, Abby!" Tim had added his thanks a bit more quietly, mostly because Abby was standing three feet away from him at the time.

Jimmy was happy that things were going to work out. He was sure of that. Ducky had always tolerated his oddities; there was no reason he couldn't deal with Tim and Tony. They were normal, more or less. He grinned at Dean.

Dean blinked for a moment. "What was that for? Not that I mind someone smiling at me, but still."

"I was just thinking. Everything's going to be fine, I think." Jimmy hefted his end of the loveseat. "We putting this at right angles to the TV?"

"Not really. More like forty-five degrees. What I want to know is, why do they call it a loveseat? No one really likes them. They're too wide to sit comfortable. And too damn short to lay down on."

Jimmy thought about that for a moment as they got the loveseat in position. "You know, I really have no idea. Ducky would know. We'll have to ask him."

Dean chuckled. "I love that ol' guy. He's a font of totally useless but fascinating information. And dirty jokes."

Jimmy flushed a bit, but snickered. "Has he told you the one about the bishop and the actress?"

"Which one?" Dean shoved the end table into place, looked the arrangement over, then said, "Well, that takes care of that. What's next?"

Jimmy looked around. "I'm not sure. We should turn on the TV, VCR ... on that note, why do we have a VCR? Anyway, turn everything on and make sure it works."

Tony cruised in just then and offered. "Don't need the VCR. Every movie I own is on the hard drive now. I think we ought to put it and the DVDs, tapes and stuff in the basement. It's nice; dry and cool. I've got some other stuff that I'm going to put down there for safekeeping."

He went to disconnect the DVD player and the VCR; the new Blu-ray player would play both Blu-ray and DVD disks. That cut down on the clutter quite a bit and made room for the PS4, as well as the X-box and the Wii. Gibbs had remarked that he saw no reason for having all three, but had been deluged with the names of games that were, evidently, necessary.

Tony put the units in place, saying, "That's great. I didn't like the idea of having them in a cupboard and constantly changing them out; all that plugging and unplugging isn't good for the connections." He looked the set-up over and sighed, "But doing all that hooking up is going to be a bitch." He started plugging things in.

Dean took one look at the mess of wires and cables and said, "I'll go get Cosmo. He's pretty good with electronics."

Tony eyed a connection for a moment. "I can do it; I just hate it. I rather build a claymore from C-4 and a tin can."

Dean gave a quiet whimper and scurried to find Cosmo. The last time Tony had made a comment like that the explosion had been epic. And messy.

Cosmo sauntered in a few minutes later and just poked Tony until he moved, saying, "AJ, just no. Damn it, you'll have this FUBAR in no time."

"Won't." Tony obediently moved. "I could do it."

Cosmo gave him a look of utter contempt. "Sure you can. Then you'll be so pissed off that you'll have all of us on the mats just to cool your jets. Jerk."

"Idiot." Tony flopped onto the couch and sighed. "Damn. I hate moving."

"And you're in the Navy." Gibbs settled in a recliner.

"Yes. Yes, I am. See the world ... all that." Tony scooted over to give Abby room to sprawl.

"Yeah, through a porthole." Abby snickered. "Agent Afloat."

"Oh, no, just hell no. I was in ..." he nudged Remy with a toe. "Where the hell were we?"

Remy thought for a moment then allowed. "I think we were just deployed. I don't remember any good missions though. You did get captured. You're never getting out of my sight while we're deployed again. I'm too old for that sort of shit."

Dean sighed. "That was ... that ... Captain screwed the pooch big time. Change the subject. It's too nice a day."

They did exactly that, Jimmy declaring that he was looking forward to some Horse. They all agreed that the basketball game was something to look forward to.

Tony realized that they were all just sitting around the family room; Ducky in an easy chair, Gibbs in another. Dean, Remy and Cosmo sprawled on the floor; he was on the couch with Abby, and Tim was on the loveseat with his feet on a pouf. Jimmy shared the loveseat and pouf with Tim. Tony frowned a bit; they needed enough seating for everyone to have a chair or share a couch. He'd need to take care of that.

Abby nudged Tony. "Turn on the TV; it's news time." One thing they all liked was watching the news together. Rude remarks flew at some of the stupid things personalities did. Politicos got even shorter shrift.

After the news was over, Abby offered to make supper, but Ducky patted her shoulder. "No, thank you, my dear. We'll manage quite well. You have a date, do you not?"

Abby squeaked, looked at her watch, then scrambled to get out the door so she wouldn't be late. She was a bit of a featherhead, but she considered it extremely rude to be late for a date. She headed out; they soon heard the rumble of her hotrod tooling slowly down the street.

Gibbs announced that he too was leaving, he was looking forward to a night in the basement with his carving. Cosmo, Dean, and Remy left because they had come with Gibbs. But more importantly, Remy needed the moral support of going with the group.

Gibbs had agreed to leave his truck for Tony to use on some private, super-secret something, so they were taking his SUV back to GHQ.

.

Ducky smiled into the dim light of the hall. The "boys" had settled in nicely. Jimmy had admitted that he felt better with them there. Ducky had to admit that the old house was full of odd noises, creaks and groans and pops. It was a bit spooky.

Now, however, there were four people in the house, which filled it with the sounds of life. Tim had the odd habit of making a clicking sound with his tongue, while Tony hummed; Jimmy had a rather heavy tread for a man his size, while he, Ducky, talked in his sleep.

Everyone seemed happy with their accommodations, but Ducky did wonder about three lively men sharing a bathroom. He shrugged to himself; it would work out, somehow.

Tim tapped on Tony's door. Tony called, "Enter."

Tim wandered in, flopped down in the easy chair and said, "Bathroom."

Ton nodded. "Need Jimmy."

Neither man was surprised when Jimmy tapped at the door. He stuck his head in and exclaimed, "Good, you're both here."

Tony moved his feet so Jimmy could sit on the end of the bed. He offered, "First in the head should be you."

Jimmy thought. "No, I should go last. I take longest ... I think."

Tim shrugged. "I like a long shower, but I can shave in my room; I use electric. AJ?"

Tony allowed that he took fifteen minutes tops. And he also used an electric shaver, so he could shave in his room too.

Jimmy rubbed his chin. "I use an old-fashioned double-edge safety razor. I get shadow like crazy if I don't. And the three S's do take me about thirty minutes. So, I should go last."

They agreed to try that and Tony added, "If Tim and I go first and second, that gives us time to start breakfast. We'll have to agree on something standard, and full English on alternate Sundays."

Ducky, who'd been shamelessly eaves-dropping, walked in, shoo'ed Tim out of the chair and offered, "We need a house meeting to develop house rules and find out who likes what, who's allergic to what, and who can't stand ... steak and kidney pie. That sort of thing."

Tim obediently got up then leaned against the door frame. "I think tomorrow afternoon would be good. It's Sunday and we're not on call, so we should have most of the day to deal with whatever."

Ducky nodded. "Well, I'm very tired." He glanced at his watch, which said 22:30. "Oh, my. I didn't realize that it was that late. Anyone hungry?"

Tony shook his head. They'd snacked while they'd finished fine-tuning the furniture arrangements in the family room. They'd also had to move the Steinway to the front parlor, as the truck had been short on manpower. The driver admitted that he'd thought movers were going to meet him there.

Jimmy got up. "I think our nightly tea is enough for me. Tim? AJ?"

Tony and Tim got up and followed Ducky down to the kitchen. Jimmy preceded them and started making tea. "I've got some cookies, and I can make bread-and-butter sandwiches."

Tony agreed to cookies, as did Tim. Ducky smiled, saying, "A bit of bread and butter would go down nicely, I think."

Tony went to help Jimmy by making the bread and butter. He cut the crusts off and cut three sandwiches into triangles, making four out of one. "There. Think that's going to be enough?"

Jimmy nodded. "I'm sure. He only eats about a half and probably a cookie. Put the cookies on the same plate and put out the oval cocktail plates. The ones with the cup wells. Ducky really likes those."

Tony got the plates and cups while Jimmy put the teapot, sugar bowl, and milk jug on the tray.

"Ready?" Jimmy nodded to Tony, who just nodded back. They carried their burdens to the table and settled in for tea.

Ducky took a sip then asked, "Not Earl Grey this evening?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I thought we ought to introduce that a bit slowly. It's not to everyone's taste. And this is Black and Green. The green tea is very good for you."

Ducky nodded. "Very well. I do believe I'll have another bread and butter." Tim pushed the plate his way. "Thank you, Timothy."

They drank and nibbled in companionable silence, then headed off to bed.

.

Gibbs was amused as Dean and Cosmo kept touching Remy, nearly petting him. Remy was in an obvious sulk. Gibbs hoped he got out of it soon. He tended to drink up all the coffee when he was in a bad mood. Gibbs didn't blame him much, except when Remy forgot to make a new pot.

They were about halfway home when Remy said, "Okay, okay. Lay off, will ya? I'm fine. I know where he is and who he's with. And he promised not to head off into the stratosphere without telling me."

Dean chuckled darkly. "Fine. But don't blame me if you have a freakout."

Cosmo snorted. "Remy won't. He'll just go sleep under the boat. And that reminds me. How the hell do you get them out?"

Gibbs sighed. He'd never told anyone this. "Usually don't. I usually chop them up and burn them." the other men made horrified sounds. "Well, the first one wasn't fit to float. Then the second one just ... named it after the wife of the time. The third one is the one I'm working on now. We'll figure it out when the time comes." He pulled into the drive and waited for the garage door to open.

They headed inside and took care of their business before heading off to bed.

.

Gibbs woke up to something. He listened carefully; he didn't hear anything unusual, but his gut was churning. He tossed the covers aside and got up. After a moment he pulled the blanket off his bed and folded it carefully. He was pretty sure he knew where Remy was, as he wasn't in his bed. He went down to the basement, easing down the stairs so as not to startle Remy.

"Remy?" Gibbs kept his voice soft.

"Oui?" Remy didn't bother to come out; he just waited.

Gibbs sat down on the floor and offered the blanket. "Blanket."

"T'anks." Remy reached out and took it. "I'm ok. Really."

Gibbs snorted at that. Remy had slept in the same bed with Tony for the first week after they'd found him. Then he'd slept near him. Now he was in a different house altogether. "Sure. Join you?"

"Yeah."

Gibbs eased under the boat with Remy. He found that Remy had made a nest of blankets and pillows. It was very comfortable and big enough for both of them. He settled next to Remy. "Nice nest."

"T'ank ya." Remy eased around to make more room for Gibbs. "Cover?"

"Please." Gibbs found that sleeping on the concrete floor left him cold and stiff, but the addition of a couple of Goodwill quilts and a pillow fixed that. He also liked being covered. This wasn't Afghanistan, so covers were a good idea, especially in the basement.

He settled in, back-to-back with Remy, and was sleeping in seconds. Remy pulled the blanket over them both and joined him, comforted by the body at his back.

Neither one of them noticed it when Dean and Cosmo checked on them.

.

The next few days were filled with that busy-ness that is life. No one accomplished much of anything truly important, until Shirley, the Human Resources Personal Contact Specialist, showed up.

Tony was pursuing an idea on the case they were working on when she popped in and demanded, "Mr. DiNozzo, have you figured out your program yet? I need the listing so I can have the program folders printed up. And I have to get the handouts and posters done soon too."

Tony frowned at her, then managed to reply, without barking, "No, not yet. I do have two whole jobs to do, as well as a personal life. You shouldn't start advertising too soon anyway. No more than six weeks beforehand. And do not go with some cheap, tacky program design. If you don't have a nice one, I'll get one done myself." His phone began to ring. "Anything else?"

Shirley shook her head. "No, I'll just go check on something. 'Bye." She hurried off. She'd never really realized how threatening DiNozzo could be; that frown was something else.

Tony rubbed his face in irritation; the idea he'd had was completely gone now. He knew he needed to work on his concert, but coming up with a program without an orchestra was frustrating him. He decided to settle down and get it done instead of sulking over it. Maybe Ducky would have an idea or two. Or Jimmy.

"AJ?" Gibbs had seen the confusion on Tony's face.

"I was getting an idea but that ... woman from HR chased it right out of my head. And reminded me that I have to come up with a fucking program. And soon. I need to start practicing." Tony frowned. "I wish I had a sheet-music tablet. I think I'll look around for one. I've got some sheet music, but I actually know more pieces than I have music for. I need to make sure that mistakes haven't crept in." He visibly turned his thoughts back to the case, muttering dire threats against the next person who broke his chain of thought.

Gibbs eyed Tim for a moment; then, when Tim looked up, he jerked his head. "Office."

Tim just got up and ambled to the elevator. Gibbs stopped it between floors and said, "Sheet music thing?"

"Tablet. Orchestras use them now instead of sheet music because it's easier to turn pages, and it'll hold however many pages you have memory for. A tablet with four gig will hold ... I'm not sure how much, but everything Tony knows, I'm sure." He thought for a moment. "I'll see what I can find tonight. I think there's a way to store more in the Cloud."

Gibbs hit the switch to turn the elevator back on. "I'll pay for it. How much?"

Tim chuckled. "You think you're payin' for this all by yourself? Think again. I'll let you know when I find out myself. The guys are all going to want to get in on this."

Tim returned to his desk and started researching. Gibbs kept Tony away by handing him an interrogation to deal with.

.

Tony was in a bad mood by the time he got to Interrogation. He knew Tim and Jet were up to something. His bump of curiosity was itching and he needed to scratch it.

Now, instead of satisfying his curiosity, he had to interrogate some smart ass about some missing arms. They knew the man was not responsible, but he did know something; he just wasn't telling, and he was a snarking jerk on top of it. He actually bragged about going through SERE.

Tony had his jacket and knew he'd crapped out after two days. And the jerk looked familiar.

He stood in the observation room and watched their subject for several minutes. He knew he knew the man from somewhere, but he couldn't recall where. And the man was fidgeting in a way that meant he'd failed SERE, just as his jacket said. The Petty Officer was the lowest pay grade in that rank, an E-4. He was an aide to the captain of a ship and was turning his head while things went on that shouldn't.

Tony frowned at the one-way glass. He turned to the phone and dialed. When Remy answered he said, "Come down to Interview Three for a sec, will you?"

Remy just hung up and headed out.

Two minutes later he was tapping on the door to Observation. Tony opened it, and Remy slipped into the darkened room. "Okay. What?"

"Know him? Looks damn familiar, but I can't place him."

Remy studied the PO for a moment, then said, "I 'memeber him. Petty Officer Frank Rankin. The one ... couple a' years ago ... cried like a little baby and shit himself."

Tony eyed the man as he searched for the memories. "Oh! Yeah, I remember him now. Actually did shit himself. Man. Okay. Got him on the fuckin' ropes now, and he doesn't even know it."

Remy shook his head sadly. "Man. All you did was yell a bit. Big girl."

"I did fist the table." Tony offered.

Remy waved a hand, "Pffft. Not like you actually laid a damn hand on 'im."

Tony shook his head in disgust. "Then he threw a hissy fit because he got washed out. Like the service would let a fuckin' pansy-ass like him into a sensitive position."

"Well, so ... what's up wit' 'im now?" Remy picked up the report but waited for Tony's nod before opening it. He read, snorted, and said, "Need me to back you up?"

"With that sorry weak piece of shit? Seriously?" Tony thumped Remy gently on the shoulder.

"Asshat."

"Bitch."

Tony took a deep breath and walked into the interrogation room like he owned it and everything in it. Which, in a way, he did. "Well? Talk now and we can avoid all sorts of unpleasantness."

PO Rankin took one look at Tony and burst into tears. Tony heard faint laughter from the other side of the one-way glass.

Tony eyed him like he was gum on a shoe. "So? Talk! Now! What, exactly, was being smuggled and by who? We know you're involved, so talk now. Or I could persuade you a bit." Tony banged his hand on the table making Rankin jump.

The PO sniffled and sniveled, then said, "I don't know what exactly, just arms of some sort. All I really know is that Bass and Langley paid me good to turn my head. They brought a footlocker aboard, stashed it in a hold."

Tony scowled at his note pad. "Which one?"

Rankin opened his mouth, closed it as he reconsidered his next remark, then said, "Do you have any idea how much cargo space is on a San Antonio class LPD?"

"Actually don't give a damn. Answer the question." Tony wrote 'Idiot child' on his note pad.

"I don't know. They'd bring it aboard while I visited the head, got coffee, something or other. Or distracted the loading officer while they sneaked it aboard. They'd just disappear with it. How they got it off was anybody's guess. I really think they just tossed it overboard shortly after we docked." He sniffled again and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Tony rolled his eyes, muttering, "Jesus, you're such a hot mess." He made more notes. "You do know that you're in deep shit, right?" Rankin nodded. "And you're going away for a stretch, no matter what." Rankin sobbed and nodded again. "So, where could we find your two friends at this time?"

"Don't know. Never did hang with them; they're both beneath my pay grade. We didn't socialize. I'd meet them once, at a bar, never the same one, and they'd pay me in cash."

"And the Loadmaster never noticed?" Tony wrote, 'Loadmaster?'

"He's so busy that one more box isn't even on the radar. They'd wait until he was distracted by one of the loading officers, then just walk it in. If they were having trouble, I'd ... do something." He realized that he was talking way more than he should. He got a stubborn expression on his face and clammed up, demanding a lawyer.

Tony just eyeballed him in disgust for a moment then said, "I'm done with you. You've given me all I need. And ..." he glowered, "Do not stubborn up on me. I've got better things to do than prime your pump again. Like planning a damn concert." He folded his notes, glowered, then left.

His report only took five minutes to type up. He then told Gibbs that they needed to bring Bass and Langley in and sweat them good.

Gibbs had finally learned the art of delegation, mostly due to Tony nagging him like a Dutch aunt. He sent Dorneget and McGee to pick up their men.

Gibbs hitched one hip on Tony's desk and said, "Heard you went through SERE with that jackass."

"Not exactly." Tony mumbled absently as he read something on his monitor. "He washed out second or third day. Big girl."

"Oh, then why ... at least I heard he started to cry." Gibbs frowned at Tony. "AJ?"

"Shit. Sorry, Jet. Your point?" Tony turned his full attention to Gibbs.

"If you were in the same SERE class, why would the sight of you make him cry?"

Tony grinned, "We weren't in the same class. I was his trainer. Man's a huge marshmallow. Sad Sack."

Gibbs blinked, grinned, then started to laugh. He laughed so hard that Vance came out of his office to watch.

Tony gave him a look of utter disgusted contempt. "Jerk."

" 'S funny. He took one look at you and started to cry. Please. Have to admit that it's hysterical." Gibbs wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and returned to his desk to finish paper work. From time to time he looked up, snickered, then returned to his work. These snicker-fits were usually caused by periodic bursts of laughter from other parts of the floor.

Tony finished his write up, emailed the mess over to Tim to deal with, and went back to trying to figure out what to play. He was beginning to run out of time; he had to start practicing soon.

He was pissed when he was interrupted again by Dorneget. The TDA informed him that Gibbs wanted him in Interrogation again.

Tony tapped on the observation room door then went in. "Boss?"

Gibbs jerked his head at the observation window. "Recognize either of them?"

Tony looked. "No. Sorry. Numbnuts say anything useful?"

Gibbs snorted, "Lawyered up. Lawyer shut us down, but he said enough to bring charges. He'll get a court-martial and some hard time. But I want the ringleader; which none of these ASVAB- waver idiots is."

Tony sighed. "I think ... let me get into my blacks." Tony had come to work today in chinos and a Polo shirt. He tended to dress for the day, rather than wear a suit. He'd quit that nonsense the second he'd 'outed' himself as a SEAL. Now he tended to wear office casual or blacks.

Gibbs grumbled, "I swear, I'm losing my touch. This bunch just won't budge."

Tony shook his head. "Not losing your touch, just ... this bunch is box-o'-rocks stupid. Makes 'em hard-headed. Gimme a sec." He left to put on his SEAL-black CUU's and boots.

He was joined by Remy and Dean. Cosmo was down at Yorktown, doing something top-secret and classified. Or so he said. It really didn't make any difference, as none of the other three SEALs were officially attached to NCIS; they just hung around for lack of anything better to do. They went on missions together, or they didn't go. Duties here in the States were a different matter.

While Tony changed, Gibbs looked the final inventory over. The men seemed to have been smuggling small arms, pistols and such, onto the ship, then off again in Europe, Rota in particular. From there the arms were just disappearing into Europe; tracing them was going to be a nightmare. Gibbs was glad to leave that up to the Spanish authorities.

He decided to let Tony work on Bass while he worked on Langley. He was glad that the Loadmaster wasn't incriminated; the man had been livid and had instigated protocols that would preclude this sort of thing in the future. Their primary objective now was to find out where the arms came from and exactly who was behind all this.

It took Gibbs an hour to get Langley to talk. Bass took one look at Tony and started singing like the proverbial canary. The up-shot of the whole thing was simple: the arms were stolen from the Army, smuggled aboard by Bass and Langley, dropped overboard with a yelper just before landfall, and picked up by their cohorts in Rota. From Rota they went to Turkey, then Iraq. They only knew that much; they were paid by electronic transfer into accounts with phony names. They never saw their contact.

Tony slammed his hand into the wall. "Dead fucking end. Damnit!"

Leon Vance wasn't pleased either. "Exactly. Damnit. We'll have to turn this over to the FBI. Or the CIA. Not happy. But we've got three positive arrests. Maybe the interrogators we're turning them over to can get something."

Tony nodded. "Clark and Jackson are both good. They nearly turned me inside out. Kept me sane later." He shrugged. "I'm hungry."

Gibbs glared Vance into silence before he said something he shouldn't. "Ok. What do you want?"

Tony thought then said, "Gyros. There's a good place about half a mile from here. Wanna walk?"

"Fine by me. Tim? Jimmy? Dean? Remy?" Gibbs thought Tony needed his friends around him right now.

"And Ducky. Abby?" Tony didn't want to leave anyone out.

"Yeah. I'll make some calls. Let's head out." Gibbs had learned how to sent a text, wonder of wonders. He'd found out that, if he sent a text, he didn't have to actually talk when he didn't feel like it, and no one could say that they didn't understand what was wanted. So he sent a batch text.

As they left, they collected people. Dean and Remy joined them at the end of the interrogation area, in front of the elevator. They picked up Ducky and Jimmy when the elevator doors opened at Autopsy. Abby joined them next floor up, and Tim was waiting for them in the foyer.

They walked out in a group and headed for the restaurant. They laughed and chattered about nothing much. Remy scooped Ducky up in a fireman's carry when the older gentleman claimed that he couldn't carry him, Ducky, more than a few feet. Remy carried him nearly a block before putting him back down.

Tony said, "Well, Duckman, I guess he showed you."

"Indeed he did." Ducky chuckled softly. "Indeed he did."

They were soon at the restaurant where Ducky proved to be fluent in Greek. This got them the best table in the place, right by the kitchen door. Most people wouldn't think this was best, but it actually was, as they could smell the food being cooked and listen in on the fun in the kitchen.

Their server came to the table and smiled at Ducky, who was telling a story about his adventures in the Greek isles, in the early '80's. He looked up and said, "Oh, here's the server. We should probably order."

The server offered, "We have a family-style platter that's very popular with larger groups. It includes Gyros meat, onion slices, tomato slices, tzatziki sauce, and a separate platter of fries. The pita is warm in a basket. The service also includes all-you-can-eat Greek salad and a serving of baklava. Drink of choice is extra."

Tony took a quick visual poll; everyone seemed to want the family-style, so he ordered that. The server eyed the group, then asked, "For how many, sir? We have family-style for six, eight, ten, or twelve. And drinks."

Tony counted; including Abby and Ducky made eight, so he said, "For twelve, please." At the server's obvious head count he grinned and added, "I eat enough for two, as does Remy."

Gibbs did a mental inventory sort of thing and interjected, "Dean, Jimmy, and Tim eat enough for two; so do I. You and Remy eat enough for three or more. Ducky and Abby are about average ... I'd say we need to order for twenty-four and hope for leftovers."

Remy snorted. "Leftovers? Seriously?"

Tim poked him in the ribs, reaching across Abby to do so. "Shut it, Cajun. You know there won't be."

The server jotted something on his tablet, then offered, "Why not start out with a service for twelve and an option for another, if it's needed."

Gibbs looked at Tony. Tony nodded. "That'll work. But I bet we eat every bit of it. Pitcher of ice tea and one of Coke."

The server went away to get the drinks and drop off their order. The kitchen laughed a bit as their idea of a serving was huge, but they made preparations, just in case.

When the platters were brought out, one of the kitchen helpers came with the server. The platters were warm for the meat and fries and cold for the garnishes and salad. The tzatziki sauce came in a bowl with a small ladle in it. Tony sent that back as he said, "If you can ladle it, it's too thin." The kitchen helper just picked up the bowl, grinned, and took it away.

Abby frowned, "Tony, that wasn't nice."

Tony frowned right back. "Was. I was polite about it; bet they thin it with buttermilk because most Americans don't know how thick it's supposed to be. And call me AJ."

Abby dimpled at that. "I was just waiting for an invitation." She frowned, "Pass the pita, please."

The server returned with a new bowl of tzatziki; this one had a spoon in it.

Tony nodded, "Thank you." He smiled at the table. "Might want to heat up the next platter of meat."

The server goggled at that. After a glance at the table, he realized that all the meat was gone, as were all the fries. The tomatoes were mostly still there, but the onion was gone, and the tzatziki was rapidly making it around the table. The salad bowl was in the middle of the table, empty. He couldn't believe how fast the men had moved.

Remy had wolfed his first sandwich in three bites and was quickly building another. He examined the tomato but declared, "It's not ripe. Just barely pink. Ick," and put the slice back on the platter.

Tim and Jimmy were right behind him, already halfway done with their first. The fries were gobbled between bites of gyros.

By the time the server was done blinking, everyone except Abby and Ducky had downed a sandwich and was building more. He just shrugged and went away to order another platter, minus the tomato, as the first platter still had most of its slices intact.

Tony eyed the thick sandwich Gibbs had created while he was dealing with the server. He shrugged and took it out of Gibbs' hand. This didn't go over well with Jet, so he snatched it back, getting only half, as the other half was being chewed. Tony let him have it back, as he still had a pile of fries to deal with.

Gibbs eyed the half-gyros with a mock-sad expression. "Jerk."

"Pig."

"Patience, Integrity, Guts. Yeah." Gibbs finished his food in two bites and started on his fries.

Abby enjoyed her food while she watched the others eat. She was amused to see that Gibbs didn't eat any salad, Tim and Jimmy took huge helpings, Tony took some, and so did Remy. Remy jammed his into his sandwich, while Tony put his in a bowl. She had a bowl, but everyone else just dumped theirs on their plates next to the fries.

Dean and Remy got into a bit of a fight over the last of the tzatziki but a barked, "Settle it," from Gibbs had them dividing it between them.

Their server returned with another round of everything, putting the platters down while someone held the empties for him to take. The busboy came by with water and put the pitcher on another table while he helped get the empty platters away.

The next round of sandwiches saw them all eating slower. Tony stuffed his sandwich full of meat and onions and spooned tzatziki on with a liberal hand. He alternated bites of sandwich with wads of fries dipped in ketchup.

Abby couldn't help a soft giggle. Tony looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question. She picked up a napkin and wiped at his cheek. "You've got ketchup."

Tony turned his head so she could get the splotch. "Thanks, Abs."

"Welcome." Abby squished the end of her sandwich to keep the tzatziki from dripping out. "You still working on your concert?"

"Yeah. Havin' trouble with the program. Most of what I know takes an orchestra. I practice with recordings ... sorta like lip syncing, but I would never do that with a live audience, so I'm limited to what I know that doesn't require backup musicians." He forked a mass of salad into his mouth and chewed morosely.

"Well, what about ..." Abby waved a hand. "service bands or something."

Tony shook his head. "They're all booked up. I already asked. So ..." he made puppy-dog eyes at her. "Help a fellow out with a suggestion or two?"

Abby snorted. "My musical knowledge, as far as classical goes, is limited to AC/DC and ELO."

Ducky frowned at his plate for a moment. "Well, let me think about it for a bit. I might have an idea or two."

Tony sighed. "Thanks, Duck. I'm really spinning my wheels. What the hell was I thinking?"

Gibbs offered, "That the kids need toys for Christmas and now's the best time to start."

Tony just pointed to Gibbs and went back to eating.

.

The case was solved the very next day. It seemed that Bass knew more than he thought he knew. He'd seen a boat, but hadn't made any connections. He remembered the registration number, as he said, "I just have a head for numbers." His pleased smirk disappeared when he was told the number of years he was facing.

The boat turned out to belong to a smuggler called Toad. And he was a soft target. He'd cried, swore he couldn't tell anyone anything, then folded like wet tissue paper. The case was closed, all information turned over to the Spanish, and that was that.