This chapter is a mixed bag of emotions. Don't worry, resolution is coming, but there are much bigger fish to fry first!

As It Seems: Chapter Twenty-nine

Shane was excited to have the long upcoming weekend off to go see Greg and their chosen family. He had just gotten off the phone with Jackson, and they were looking forward to surprising everyone. They even decided to share a motel room so that they wouldn't inconvenience anybody once they got there.

Penelope's internship had ended the month before, sending her home to Michigan. He knew he should probably call her while he had the chance, finally finding some privacy on the porch of the bunkhouse, but he was drawn to the photo album instead. He picked up his backpack and pulled out the book, and decided to start flipping through it from the back this time.

He already knew what he would find, so the smile was on his face before he even got the page open, the memories so vivid he didn't even really need the photo. It was his favorite picture. Nona's arm was around Greg, and they were rooting him on during one of the few school basketball games he got to attend. He had made a three pointer, bringing the team up from behind with only a few minutes left on the clock. Someone else from the youth center that had tagged along had gotten the picture of them celebrating the shot. Nona's eyes shone with pride and joy, and Greg and her together looked like family. That's how he preferred to remember her. That's how he preferred to remember his childhood.

He closed the book, and pulled out the small flip album that had been sent to him a month prior. It had been wrapped in brown paper, a rough hemp string tied around it, and inside the front cover, a man's handwriting had inscribed "From the Family". His fingers ran over the ink with a sacredness that made him shudder as warmth trailed down his spine. A note of explanation was included from Greg that had touched him dearly, and Shane pulled it out from the back of the album where he had kept it tucked in an empty photo page.

Little Brother,

Last night, the Boss stopped by with this. During the team dinner, a few different people managed to capture some great images of our new family. Abby got some especially amazing shots, and she sent them to Tony. He got the brilliant idea to ask around the group to see who else had taken photos during that evening and over the next few days as we visited with Jackson. He had prints made, and he put them all together for you and I in matching albums. I've added more shots to both books.

I'll admit it, I cried when I read the inscription. For so few words, they mean more to me than I ever thought words could mean. It's still sinking into me what I've stumbled upon here. These people will be in our lives forever, and of that, I have absolutely no doubt. Even as I write that, the utter amazement and awe that comes over me makes me wonder if I'm alive. To know that they embrace us completely, and care so much about us, that they see that light that Nona always said draws family to one another, makes me feel invincible.

I can't believe we did it, Shane. I can't believe we found our happiness. I can't believe we finally found a family that is willing to love us as we are, and who understands without assuming they know. I can't believe that I have finally found people I trust. People I feel safe with. People who I would trust with you and Tiff, and that I know will protect us like a family is supposed to. It's home, Shane, and I know it will be for the rest of our lives.

I love you, little brother. Take care of yourself, and come home whenever you can.

-Greg

The porch light was dim, but he re-read the letter a dozen times before he put it in the back of the album with a wide smile on his face and a mist in his eyes. He flipped through the book, enjoying the grins on the faces in each picture.

There was a photo of him talking to Jackson about the park, both of them animated in their discussion of a shared stomping ground. No one would mistake them for family is they saw them together, but by the end of that week, he knew that Jackson was the grandfather he had never had.

There were photos of the group sitting around eating, and of wide mouth laughter being shared at this joke or the other. There was a photo of Tony sitting on the ground against the chair between Gibbs' legs, and Gibbs leaning forward with his hands on Tony's shoulders as they looked at each other, eyes bright and smiles wide.

One of his favorites was Greg and Elly, arms around each other in a hug that hid the sling Greg was wearing at the time. He also loved the one that he and Greg took together as they laid in the circle in the back yard, drunk as hell.

Then there was a group photo that Ziva had gotten almost everyone to crunch together for before they had heard the news about the fallen FBI agent. The only people missing were Tony and Gibbs, and it was intended to be a special shot for her to frame as a gift for them. Shane wondered if that shot was the inspiration for Tony to send the album.

There were photos from a team outing that Greg had added to the back of the book that still made him laugh. The laughter shook tears free from his eyes. Looking at them made him feel unbelievably relieved, because he knew by those photos that Greg was just as happy with his life as he had become with his own. The photo of Greg, Elly, Tony and Dorney scrunched together, trying to make serious faces, and then the series of shots afterwards when they burst into drunken laughter after failing miserably, made Shane feel like he knew the men much better than he did. Somehow, with their limited interaction, he knew that Greg was right- these people would be in his life until he died.

He finally closed the book, slipped both albums into their plastic bags, and then into his pack again. He hoisted his pack on his back, and headed into the cabin to get some rest. It was well after midnight, and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep in an actual bed.

Just a few more days guys! I'll be home in just a few more days!

AIS-NCIS-AIS-NCIS

Jethro had Tony's legs pinned to the couch, his cock deep in his throat as his tongue swirled around the thick veins before pulling back to breathe and lick the head. Tony could only groan, and then whimper, and then groan again as Jethro took him deep once more. He tried unsuccessfully to thrust up into Jethro's mouth, and earned fingerprints that he knew would be dark blue in his thighs for his efforts. Jethro pulled back again, only this time because he heard a phone chime. He realized it was Tony's, so he went back to the task at hand, renewed by the relief that it wasn't a call from dispatch.

He bobbed his head as his lips tightened around the flesh in between them, letting his mouth water to help slick the slide. For a brief moment, he remembered the first time he had felt the urge to suck Tony off, and smirked at the idea of how Tony would be the only person who would ever know what it would feel like to get a Leroy Jethro Gibbs blowjob. Tony had definitely reassured him over the past couple of months that he was not only good at it, but exceptional, and he admitted to himself that knowing that fed the enjoyment.

As soon as Jethro let his fingers tease Tony's balls, the younger man gasped, and then made that animalistic sound that let Jethro know he was about to come. He loved that sound. He released Tony's cock from his mouth and stroked him fast and hard. The flesh was hot and heavy in his grip, and his fist was soon covered with the overflowing sticky liquid of Tony's release. There was also a stringy glob down his bare chest from where it shot, and he wore it with pride as Tony panted hard through the aftermath of the orgasm. Jethro stroked him with long slow strokes now, watching Tony's expression with joy. He loved being able to make Tony feel so good, especially when he had just made him feel out of this world twenty minutes earlier, and multiple times through a very long day.

Tony's eyes snapped open, looking back at him. He reached forward and ran his finger up Jethro's chest, capturing the cum there, and brought it to his mouth. Jethro's eyes widened as he watched, and then groaned as Tony licked his fingers clean. He couldn't believe how after months of watching Tony slurp his own goodies, it still turned him on so intensely. He let his head fall to Tony's lap as he turned to sit on the floor instead of kneel. He was surprised when the sun came up to find himself in the same position.

AIS-NCIS-AIS-NCIS-AIS

Elly spent all day on Sunday sleeping, yearning to get back to the place where his dreams inevitably led him; to where he could be with Ned, lost in a memory. He woke up twice, his hand already on his phone, and forced himself to put it down before he made a big mistake. He was dying to simply hear Ned's voice, but the source of reassurance he sought was also an aphrodisiac for him, and that was the last thing he needed when he had already gotten off multiple times since dawn.

This time though, he woke up with not only the sexual heat, but horrible nausea, and he realized that he had gotten sick while high on the drug. The side effect made its way into the flashbacks, and finally began tempering the joy of the dreams. He got up and took a cool shower, and it helped relieve the raging hard on and his agitated stomach.

After making some chicken nuggets in the microwave, he did something he hadn't done in years. When he was a kid, his therapist has given him a special notebook that he could write in during his sessions for twenty minutes before they talked. He was allowed to write anything he wanted, but she had encouraged him to write about what was bothering him. As he got older, he had turned to free writing and listing things that were frustrating him. He wouldn't usually read over it afterwards. Simply getting out what he was feeling was a safe pressure release. He found it also helped him get all of his ducks in a row mentally.

With how confused he was feeling, he decided it couldn't hurt to revert to an old tried and true methodology. Instead of a notebook though, he opened up a blank document on his laptop, and turned his font white to match the page so that he couldn't see the words.

He isn't ready to make a decision this big. He can't be ready. It's not fair to try to make him ready. I mean, if we took our time, if we went through this one day at a time, then yeah, I think he might be able to handle it all if there was a slow bleed of information that let him know what he was getting himself into. I'm actually pretty sure he would be willing and able to deal with everything, ya know, if he had the time. Dumping it all on him at once though, that's gotta be too much, right? Though, meeting him and getting to know how weird he is, was very overwhelming at first. I never thought when I first met him that we'd get to be as close as we are. He was strange, but as we talked, well, I guess I felt I had found a kindred spirit in his quirks. And once he asked for direction, when he flat out said, Hey! I'm weird! Can you help fix me? I was suddenly angry with myself and the world for making such a unique soul feel like he was broken. I want to protect those oddities now, even if I just keep them for myself. I want to celebrate his gentleness, his respect for life, his need to clean everything he sees when he's stressed, and the way he mixes ketchup and mayo to dip his fries in. I want to have to tickle him to get him out of bed in the morning for work when the alarm just isn't cutting it after keeping each other up all night, and I want to lay under the stars with him, listening to him tell me about his dreams, and knowing that when I tell him mine, he gives a genuine damn.

Changing teams though? Being out at work though? Can I/he/we handle all of the things this is going to throw at us?

You know what? Fuck it. I'm not going to let anyone, or anything else dictate at what speed we have to take this. Are we ready to jump into bed together? No, well, not emotionally. Are we ready to admit that we want to pursue a relationship? Yes. At least I am. And I think he is. I deserve the happiness I think we can have together, and I believe he deserves it too.

Tomorrow, I'll come in early, and when he gets there, I'll pull him aside, and talk to him face to face so that I can look into his eyes and tell him that I want this. And if we have to lie to Vance and say we're not together while we try to figure each other out, at least we will be able to say in a polygraph that we have never had sex. I'm pretty sure he'll wait the two months out with me, and if that doesn't say something, I don't know what does!

Elly smiled to himself, feeling anxious, excited, and empowered. He closed the laptop, not bothering to save the document, and then put the plate in the sink with the rest of the weekend's stack. He turned on a playlist on his phone, selecting Ned's request at the club to kick it off, and then tackled the dishes. He cleaned up the kitchen, gathered a load of laundry, and took the phone to the bedroom to figure out what he wanted to wear to work the next day for his big talk with Ned. He decided on a blue and white striped shirt, and navy blue pants with a navy belt.

When he finally turned off his jams and crawled under the covers, he froze, wondering if he should send a text to Ned. He considered it as he set his alarm, and then decided to send another simple, "Goodnight." He rolled over with an elated smiled on his face, and fell asleep so quickly that he missed the fact that he didn't receive a text back.

Ned had waited all day long for a phone call from Elly. He spent an entire hour around four o'clock staring at his phone with his arms crossed against his chest, refusing to give in and call the other man first. He was getting seriously aggravated, but more than that, he was brokenhearted. He thought for sure he would call by now. He was tired, but he had been drugged with a lot more apparently than Elly had. He couldn't understand why he hadn't contacted him. He had finally given up, made some dinner, gotten through a third round of cleaning the bathroom, scrubbing out the washing machine, and wiping down every surface in the kitchen when he gave up and went to bed.

Guess he realized what he was getting into and decided it was better to not move forward. I can't blame him. The team means a lot to him, and he's probably afraid Vance is going to send him back to IT or to the cold case team or something. I'm not too excited about going to Gibbs' team though either, and I was more than willing to if that's what it was going to take… Not that I don't really like everyone on the team, but I don't think I want to learn from Gibbs like I thought I wanted to. Doesn't matter now. Haven't heard from the prick all weekend, so I guess we're going forward with business as usual.

Honestly though, I don't know if I can.

Ned was startled as he stared into the darkness of the room when he heard the phone chime next to him. He picked it up, and saw Elly's text of "Goodnight" and stared at it in disbelief.

"Goodnight?!" he practically squeaked. "I've waited all fucking day for that cocksucker to call me, and tell me that he wants to define what we're feeling, and start a relationship, and the little shithead sends me goodnight?! What in the hell is he thinking?!"

It had been a long time since Ned had felt that angry, and even longer since he had felt that baffled. His theater professor in college was a wise old woman with a big heart, sharp tongue, and a soft spot for Ned. During his senior year, he was angry all the time about everything. She took him aside one day, and they talked about why he was so mad. He listed off a dozen things he had blown up about that week, and she asked him why he had been so angry at those things. None of them were big enough, or bad enough, to require so much anger. After a bit of whittling, he told her about how his family had found out he was gay that summer, and how they had turned their backs on him.

It was then that she taught him the most important thing any professor had ever taught him. She said, "Life is too beautiful to be angry all the time, Sweetness. You need to start redirecting your energies. Only be angry at things worth being angry about. The rest isn't worthy of all of this energy you've been expending. If you're angry, go to the source, and let your anger be known. If you can't, then find a way to channel it to help let it go. Otherwise, it's going to haunt you and bleed over into all of the other parts of your life that don't deserve it, and it wins. You're better than that. Don't let them win."

"Only be angry at the things worth being angry about." Damn it Glenda! This is worthy of being angry about! I think I love him, or at least I did until three minutes ago when he text me good-fucking-night after I waited all damn weekend for his sorry ass to call me! He could have come over! He could have emailed me, or text me, or sent a fucking singing telegram. He could have had the boss tell me that he would talk to me on Monday instead of over the weekend, that he wanted to make sure the drugs weren't affecting our judgment, or that he was going to need some time to clear his head, but no, he told Tony that he'd call me soon. Here it is, twenty-four hours later, and I've gotten two one word text messages from his sorry ass.

He closed his eyes, willing the traitorous tears to stay back, but they slipped out of the corners and down the side of his face anyway. He hiccupped and then the sobs wracked his chest as he fought against him, making him choke.

I'm not crying. I don't love him. I don't remember the way his hand was in mine, and I don't remember the spark that shot up my arm when he took it, and I don't remember the trust that shone in his eyes when he told me about Tyson yesterday when we woke up together, and I definitely don't remember the way those blue eyes make me feel. I don't remember that at all.

AIS-NCIS-AIS-NCIS-AIS

Monday morning came too quickly for some, and not quickly enough for others. Elly was up, dressed, caffeinated, and out the door by 0600. He had woken up at 0400 to hit the head, and he hadn't been able to go back to sleep because he was so excited. He was anxious to get to work and catch up with Ned.

Ned however had cried himself to sleep, and had restless dreams where he remembered blue lights illuminating the club and shining on Elly, turning him into a zombie as he looked away from him. When he woke up, he tried to tell himself that Elly had just let him go to fix a song or something, but in the flashback, he got the distinct feeling that Elly had stepped away from him during an intimate moment. No matter how legitimate the reason most likely was, or even how short the break from Ned was, he was left with an overwhelmingly bereft feeling when he woke up that was even deeper than the one he felt when he fell asleep the night before. It renewed his anger, and he decided to skip half of his morning routine in order to get to work early enough to give Elly a piece of his mind.

Jethro had gotten to work at his usual time that morning, his coffee cup from home in his hand half full. He had a couple of forms to finish, and then he was meeting Vance for their Monday morning catch-up. Tony had left separately so that he could pick up their dry cleaning, and he was also going to swing through the drive thru for some more coffee for the both of them.

Parke had woken up with Tiffany when she finally started having morning sickness, and tried not to take it to heart when she told him to leave her the hell alone. She never had liked being taken care of when she was sick, but he felt he should at least try once anyway in case being pregnant changed those needs. He regretted it, and was eager to get out of the house, only to get stuck in standstill traffic because of a horrible accident on the Beltway. He called Tony, and found out that he was stuck in it too, so they talked for a few minutes, joking about whether they could make it to each other's cars and back by time the accident was cleared and they could move again.

Ziva was in the office a few minutes earlier than usual to type up an email she had spent the day before drafting, editing, debating over, and then finalizing. She had made a decision about what she was going to do, and she realized it was probably one of the hardest decisions she had ever made in her entire life. She had also decided that she was going to try to live with Dion for a month as a trial run. She had not lived with anyone for a very long time, and she wanted to make sure she could do it. She would keep her apartment, and that way if they weren't quite ready yet, she could go back to living alone while she and Dion took some more time. He was ecstatic she had given even that much, and when she told him about her decisions, he was more supportive than she could ever have imagined anyone being other than perhaps Gibbs.

Tim and Abby had come home to Tim's place from the club Saturday night, passed out, and then spent the entire day Sunday packing Tim's apartment. Abby had coordinated with Tony, and they were planning on spending the next weekend moving them in as long as no one got the Bat Signal.

Palmer came in to find Ducky staring at the wall above his small desk at nothing in particular, a cup of tea in his hands that had grown cold. When he asked if he was okay, Ducky nodded and smiled sadly at him. He wouldn't talk about it though, and that had him worried enough that he planned a trip up to see Gibbs on his break to make sure he checked on his friend.

All in all, it was a Monday, and as Mondays tend to be, it was full of unexpected obstacles.

Elly was sitting at his desk, ready to bubble out of his skin when Ned came in. As soon as the brunette entered the bullpen though, after Elly could only so much as get out a "Hey!", his phone rang. He held up a finger, and answered it to find Tony on the other end, explaining about the traffic he was wedged into with no hope of release for a while yet. He assured him he could hold down the fort, and then warned Gibbs that Tony wouldn't be back with the coffee before his meeting with Vance. Gibbs groaned and looked at his watch as he got to his feet, gathering his materials for his meeting.

As soon as Elly hung up with Tony, he looked at Ned who looked back with daggers in his eyes. Elly froze, suddenly paralyzed with confusion and fear.

"What's-" Elly started.

"Don't even-" Ned interrupted, and then Ned's desk phone rang. "Goddamn it!" He answered the phone with a deep breath, thinking of Glenda's words. "Dorneget."

"Agent Dorneget. It's Evelyn. You and Agent DiNozzo are needed in MTAC immediately sir. Agent Garnier and Lieutenant Stephens are in trouble."

"Shit. On my way!" He jumped up, grabbed the notebook on his desk and a pen, and took off running for the stairs. "Can someone try to get Tony patched through to MTAC please?" he yelled after him at Elly.

Jethro watched him run up the stairs, and started after him.

"Dorneget! You got this?" he asked.

"Yeah! I'd feel better if I had the Boss though!"

Jethro looked over the railing. "Critten! You get Tony on the line now, and get him fed into MTAC!"

"Already on it Agent Gibbs!" Elly yelled across the bullpen.

Ned took a deep breath as the retina scanner verified him, and then he entered the dark room, looking up at the screen.

"Stephens! Garnier! Talk to me!" Ned said, barely able to see anyone on the feed.

"Oh, thank God!" Garnier said, gasping for air and then snorting a runny nose.

"Where are you?" Ned asked.

"I'm not really sure. We took off running, and climbed into the back of a truck, and hid until we could slip out of the cargo once they stopped for the night. I don't know. We're lucky the tablet will connect. We're in a cellar of some sort."

"Evelyn? Where's the signal coming from?" Ned asked, taking out his notepad.

"Three miles south of Kadanai."

"Did you hear that Rod?" Ned asked, looking up from where he was notating it in his notebook.

"Yeah. At least that's something. Just far enough away."

"Where's Lieutenant Stephens?" Ned asked.

"He's here. He's not doing so great, Boss."

Ned blinked when he heard himself addressed by that name, but shook it off immediately.

"What do you mean he's not doing so great? Talk to me. Tell me what's happening, Rod."

"We found the home base for Yellow Triangle. We literally stumbled upon it by accident."

"Okay, keep going," Ned said.

"We were following these two guys we know who tend to get their hands in on every shady deal in the desert. We figured they'd eventually meet with someone we might be able to work our special brand of questioning on, and find out some information on whether or not the Yellow Triangle guys are close to being up to trouble. We use them as informants though. Those contacts we shouldn't have that we were talking about? They're amongst them. They didn't know we were following them since our meeting with them last week, and they led us right to the damn building they're putting the crap together in. It used to be a hotel. Hell, Ed's even stayed there before.

"We were going to go in, corner our guys, get some information out of them, but we walked in, and that's when we found out it's not a hotel anymore. It's been converted to an apartment building of sorts for the organization. Shit started happening quick. There were so many of them, and only two of us, and shots were fired, and then suddenly we were being sprayed with something. Ed was closer. He got the worst of it.

"I don't feel so great, but Ed's really bad. He's got a realhigh fever, and he has flu-like symptoms, shaky and sweaty in that creepy clammy way. I'm all sniffly, and I don't feel so steady on my feet. We didn't have any way to wash it off of us without contaminating an entire village's water supply, so we stowed away in the back of a truck, wrapped ourselves tightly with cloth we found in there, and tried to contain our germs to ourselves. The truck crew stopped hours later for a night's rest in another village, and we got out, found a water pump not near a mainline, and rinsed as best as we can.

"I don't know who's crude cellar this is, but it doesn't appear to be used. There's no supplies in here, and half of the roof is caved in. We're crammed in a small eight by eight area, with only rations and our canteens that we filled at the water pump, and very basic first aid equipment that we keep on us. As soon as Ed laid down, he stopped talking. He frankly scaring the shit outta me."

"Don't worry, Rod. We'll get you help. Evelyn! I need for you to get me a location of where Davidson and his team are, and we need it yesterday."

"Yes, sir, Agent Dorneget."

"Scott. I need you to connect me to the 223rd Army Decontamination Unit stationed in Kabal. Tell them we have a code orange, and to get me the C.O. immediately."

Ned started making notes on his book, scribbling and then writing another. He nodded, drew an arrow, and then had another bubble, then another, and then a big triangle, which he scribbled out furiously.

"Is Stephens conscious at all, Rod?" Ned asked, looking up at the screen.

"I don't know if I'd-" Rod held up his hand while he bent over and coughed into his lap for a couple of long deep coughs. "If I'd call it conscious, Boss. It's more like he's in and out, fever pitched, you know? He's awake, and his eyes are open, but he's not really with us."

"I understand. Are you coughing up blood, Rod?"

"No sir, not yet. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking a number of things, and focusing on all the good ones. Try to do the same," Ned said, taking another deep breath. "Evelyn? Any luck."

"Coming- got it! The team is eighteen miles northwest of their current position, and I already have connections going through to each of our four to try to get a response. As soon as someone recognizes our signal, we'll have them up."

"Agent Dorneget! I have Colonel Michael Russel coming online for you from the 223rd."

"Go ahead," Ned said, swallowing hard again. He really wished Tony was with him suddenly, and he held his breath as the screen split and turned blue on one side, waiting for the feed to connect. He felt a presence next to him, and looked over to see the Director.

"Keep going, I'm right here if you need me," he whispered, then took two steps back to be more in the shadows and let Ned continue. Jethro moved out of the shadows even further back to stand next to him, and together they watched the rest of the scene unfold. They had come in two minutes behind Ned after Jethro had burst into Vance's office, letting him know that Dorney was just called into MTAC without Tony. They went to join him and see if he needed assistance, and they were both watching in shock and amazement at how well the younger man took control. It was only when Vance realized it was Colonel Russel that Dorneget would be speaking with that he decided to let him know they were there for him.

Ned took a deep breath, and suddenly a uniformed man appeared. He was pulling on a jacket and turned to look at the camera, obviously in a rush to move out. His men were already assembling in the room behind him.

"Who am I talking to?" the Colonel barked, looking over his pack at the monitor, his eyes squinting.

"NCIS Agent Ned Dorneget," Ned said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. "We've been working a remote op outside of Kabul with Agent Rod Garnier and First Lieutenant Ed Stephens."

"Ed?" the Colonel said, suddenly stopping in his tracks and staring at the screen, his hand raising to silence the men behind him. "What happened?"

"They've been exposed to some kind of contaminant, sir. They've stumbled up on a site of an organization they were tracking known as [The Yellow Triangle], or The Yellow Triangle. An altercation happened, shots were fired, and the rebels defended themselves with a liquid contaminant that has the Lieutenant barely conscious and suffering from extreme flu-like symptoms including a high fever. His teammate on the op, NCIS Special Operative Rod Garnier has also been exposed, but is developing different symptoms. Sever cough, disorientation, dizziness."

"Tell him I'm getting feverish, too, Boss!" Rod said before starting a coughing spell.

"I heard. Agent Garnier! I need the coordinates for the location of your altercation before you can't think anymore."

"Yes sir, Colonel. Longitude 34 degrees, 55 north, by latitude 62 degrees, 30 east. It's an old motel building that has been taken over by the group. There are a lot of locals around, and the village is about half and half sympathetic to each side. Use caution."

"Thank you, Agent. Do you have their coordinates, Agent Dorneget?" the Colonel asked somewhat quieter, writing down the information he was receiving in a notebook.

"Approximately. They are in an underground cellar or bunker-"

"Longitude, 32 degrees, 22 north, latitude, 65 degrees, 45 east," Evelyn called out. "And I have Davidson listening in as well Agent Dorneget, and have given him a brief update on the situation."

"Might as well bring him up, Evelyn. Thank you," he said. "Colonel, I'm bringing on Master Sergeant Rickie Davidson. He and three of his men are set to be dispatched to locate Agent Garnier and Lieutenant Stephens. They can help provide treatment until you are able to get there, as well as transport and protect them if need be. I need your recommendations, sir."

"Davidson, Colonel Michael Russel here with Army Decon. Are you able to bring full biohazard precautions? Suits and all?"

"Yes, sir! We are prepared and can arrive in less than half an hour and transport them back to our squat until helivac can arrive."

"Good man. What do you have in the way of antivirals and antibiotics, son?" Russel asked, still frozen and holding up a hand towards the men behind them, stilling them as well so he could hear the voices he was connecting with.

"We have the major six, sir, enough doses for ten men of each. They just arrived yesterday."

"Very good. When you get there, I need you to hit Ed with both the streptomycin and the influenza antivirals, and hit Agent Garnier with the streptomycin, flu antivirals, and whatever version the "cillin" they sent you. Agent Garnier, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," he said, a wheeze to his voice that no one liked.

"You allergic to any medications, son?"

"Of all things, aspirin, sir."

"That's not a problem today. Hit him with an epi if you got one, too. The others won't do him any good if his lungs seize up first. We'll have helivac back at the squat in less than two hours. Whatever you can get your hands on to drink, suck it down Garnier! We're coming for you." The Colonel's eyes looked straight at the screen, and Ned felt like they were looking into his, so he stared back.

"Agent Dorneget, what authorization point are we at with this mission?"

"They were on a recon level sir. They had no idea they were getting this close. As of right now, as far as The Yellow Triangle knows, they were two guys that walked into the wrong building looking for room at the inn."

"I have two options for you. The first is that we go in today, burn the building and everyone in it to the ground, and watch the roaches scatter, possibly taking contaminated materials with them. They may already be doing that if they were stupid enough to release their weapons on our men though. The second option is that we wait to plan a more strategic entrance of the building, take out the rebels, and ascertain what they were attempting to do. I'm not read in on the mission, so I leave that decision in your hands."

Ned didn't hesitate. "We wait. At this point, Davidson, when you are able to transfer Garnier and Stephens into the care of the Decon Team, pick up where they left off in gathering the intel we need for the mission. Rod?" Ned asked.

"Yeah, Boss. I'm still alive."

"That's the best news I've had all day, Rod," Ned tried to joke, though there was genuine relief in his voice that killed the humor completely. "Are you feeling up to staying alive to tell Davidson everything you know so far?"

"Hell yeah, Boss. I told you- I'm this close to going home to the Bayou. They ain't taking me out now!"

"We're heading out," Colonel Russel interrupted. "Two hours at the squat."

"Thank you, Colonel," Ned said, glad to have the man off his screen and on the way to help.

"We're dispatching as well," Davidson said. "Hang in there, Garnier! We're on the way!"

"Davidson!" Ned shouted, stopping him before he could disconnect. "I want immediate contact when you have them secured in your truck on the way back to base."

"Yes, sir, Agent Dorneget. We'll take care of 'em."

"I know you will," Ned said. Davidson's connection broke as well, and he was left with just Rod on the screen.

"Rod?" he asked. "Do you want me to stay on with you?"

"Will you?" the older man asked.

"Yeah. I'll stay," Ned said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Do me a favor and drink down as much of your water as possible. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah. Sounds like a good idea."

"Is it cold water at least?" he asked.

"It's kinda room temperature, but it doesn't taste as funny as some of the stuff I've gotten outta those pipes before. I'll take it."

"You said you were getting feverish?" he asked.

"Yeah. I already took all of the Tylenol in my first aid kit trying to keep it back. We were in the truck for six hours, took half an hour to wash off and find this place, and we've been in here for three hours trying to get a signal. Popped it like candy, one an hour until it was gone. It hit Ed like blasting jelly though. I mean, that shit hit him, and then it was like twenty minutes later he was already feeling bad. I gotta tell you, I've seen a lot in my time brother, and I'm scared shitless of this stuff."

"Keep drinking your water, Rod."

"Yes, Dad," Rod joked poorly, choking as soon as he tried to drink.

"Hey, Tony was telling me about how you and Ed ended up in the tank. Is it true you ran through a wall with it, and then hijacked a jeep?"

Rod laughed. "Oh, yeah! We had one hell of a time. See, we knew we had a fine hair's chance of getting out alive anyway, so we figured that while we had the time, we were going to have some fun, and of course do as much damage to those bastards as possible. So, we set this weapons store warehouse to blow, and then as we squeeze out the back, there's this tank, and we got into it, and ended up driving it through the compound, taking out buildings, people jumping out of the way of this big ass panther, and then as the building explodes behind us, we take it through the twenty something foot wall that they had built around the place. Wish we would have had the tank going in, because let me tell you, climbing that wall was a bitch. And Ed, the show off, was able to get right up the thing like a some kinda fucking monkey, and here I am, trying to find some kind of handhold, not seeing where he had just put his hands. I swear to this day the prick had suction cups, and just wasn't sharing!"

Ned chuckled, eager to keep everyone's minds off the fact that Stephens very well could be lying there dying, and the man joking with them could be right behind him. He realized though that he had yet to actually see the Lieutenant, and that he probably should.

"Hey, Rod. Do me a favor and aim your camera and a flashlight at Ed."

"Okay, but I gotta warn you, it's not pretty, Agent Dorneget."

"Call me Dorney, Rod. Everyone else does."

"Dorney? Really? Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

Ned smiled and shook his head, and then his smile fell when he saw the utterly creepy way that Stephens' eyes were open and barely moving, obviously not focusing on anything. Even in the faint light from the flashlight and tablet, he could tell that there was a wet glaze on his entire face, and double on his eyes.

"Hey, uh, Dorney?"

"Yeah, Rod?"

"I know you want me to drink all this water, but do you think it would hurt anything if I rinsed his face off for him?"

Ned struggled not to show the cringe he felt inside.

"You know you're not allowed to touch him, Rod. I wish you could."

"But can I pour some over him?"

Ned shook his head no slowly, struggling to find the words while still being compassionate. His encyclopedia mode wanted to kick in, and he could almost hear Parke's voice in his head reminding him to balance reason with compassion because they were both just as important in situations like this. "No, because if it goes in his eyes, up his nose, or in his mouth, you could choke him, or risk spreading the fluids in a way to contact you. Trust me, I wish I could do more than rinse his face, but I have a strong suspicion that you two were hit with two different things, and you don't want what he has, Rod. We don't want you to have what he has."

"Hey, where is DiNozzo anyway? He finally letting you loose on your own in there?" Rod said, forcing himself to look away from Ed and to drink more of his water.

"He's actually stuck in traffic. Accident closed down the Beltway. Over a thousand cars are stranded in standstill traffic. Radio said it was a thirteen car pileup with three fatalities."

"I'd take a traffic jam right now. Even a Monday morning traffic jam. It's still morning there, right?"

"Yeah," Ned said with a smile.

"Yeah. See, traffic jams don't really bother me. You turn up your music, you drink your coffee, you just wait it out. You're forced to slow down and think, breathe, you know? And everyone else gets stuck in them too, so if you're late, you just go, Hey man! I was just stuck in that horrible jam on the highway! And everyone looks at you all sympathetic and understanding, and they go, Oh, I heard about that! Or, So was I! Wasn't that crazy? And meanwhile, you got to take your time and look at whatever scenery there is, or people watch, and generally do something else besides be at work. Nah, I don't mind traffic jams."

Ned smiled from ear to ear, thinking about Glenda's wisdom.

"I get that. You have to reserve your anger and frustration for things that are worth it. A traffic jam that hundreds of other people are stuck in simply isn't worth the energy you'd waste being mad."

"Exactly! See? You get it! Oh, wait. I hear something. There's a vehicle approaching. God, I hope it's them. That epi pen is starting to sound pretty nice right about now. Feels like an elephant is trying to park his fat ass on my chest." They waited in silence, and a moment later, the door to the cellar opened.

"Garnier? That you?" a man's voice said from the background.

"Carmento! I've never been so happy to see you, man! You got that hundred you owe me?" Garnier said to the man, his voice sounding much weaker than it had a few minutes before.

"I thought it was two?" Carmento said with a cheery voice, hopping down to take a look at Stephens. He was in a dark green plastic suit with a gas mask on.

"I'm feeling generous. I'm going to give you a special discount for you coming to save my ass."

Another green clad figure joined them in the hole. He saw the tablet. "You still on with NCIS?" the familiar voice of Davidson asked.

"Yep. That's my pal Dorney on there," Rod said, succumbing to the exhaustion he felt now that he knew he was in good hands.

"Agent Dorneget?" Davidson asked, trying to look into the tablet.

"Yes, Davidson."

"I've got 'em from here, sir. I'll update you when we get back to the squat if that's okay with you."

"Perfect. Take care of them for me."

"Thanks for staying with them, sir."

"Definitely," Ned said. The screen went blank after a large hand took the tablet from Garnier, and the room was dark now that the screen wasn't lit. Ned exhaled, gathering his thoughts. He forgot he wasn't alone when suddenly a quiet male voice began speaking next to him.

"You know," Vance began, startling Ned to look at him. "When Agent DiNozzo said you were really picking up speed in here, I was pleased. What I saw just now though has me damn near speechless."

"Uh, thank you, sir, I think?" Ned said, his mind more on the op still than what was being said to him.

"Tony said he felt more than comfortable letting you take the reins, but I didn't realize to what extent," Gibbs said, joining the other two men. Dorney jumped, not realizing that Gibbs had been there the whole time. "And you're right, by the way. We are too different."

Ned nodded, feeling more humbled by Gibbs' recognition than Vance's.

"I, um, if you can excuse me," Ned said. "I need to go check on a couple of things really quick before Davidson makes contact again." He nodded once, and then left the two older men standing there without waiting for a response.

"I think what has me most impressed," Gibbs said quietly as soon as the door closed, "Is that he was able to do all of that after being drugged this weekend, and trying to work through the consequences of its effects on his personal life."

"I had completely forgotten about that during the entire situation. It didn't come to mind for even a second," Vance said, looking at the door and shaking his head. His eyes met Gibbs' again. "What do you mean the consequences on his personal life?"

"Not my team, Leon. You know the kind of drug they were given though. I'm sure you're going to have a meeting with Tony soon enough to explain it."

Evelyn could barely hear what was being said, but she was able to make out enough. She froze, looking out of the side of her eyes at Scott who was turned to watch the two men. She realized she needed to remind them of their presence, and she put on her best fake smile and looked at Scott.

"I should be able to take it from here for a while if you want to go grab your break while we have a chance," she offered.

Scott looked at her with a critical stare, and then shrugged, locked his unit down, and headed for the door. As he left, Evelyn got to her feet, shaking.

"Um, sir? Can I have a word with you? Actually, with both of you?"

They looked at her, and came over to where she was standing, wondering what she could possibly need from them with Dorney running the op. She swallowed hard, and took a deep breath, and reminded herself that if Tony and Gibbs could have the courage to let the entire Navy Yard know they were getting married, she could have the courage to do what she could to protect them.

"Evelyn?" Vance asked. "What can we do for you?" He saw the way she was shaking, but she maintained eye contact with him a long moment, and then looked at Gibbs, who for some reason, after terrifying her for going on two years now, felt much more comforting.

"When I came in this morning, Scott was having a rather… loud conversation in the hallway with Agent Daniels from Agent Balboa's team, and Chris Leach from accounting about your and Agent DiNozzo's marriage, Agent Gibbs."

"Christ," Gibbs whispered, rolling his eyes, and then making eye contact with Evelyn again. She took her tenth deep breath, and then looked at Vance.

"He said he was planning on discussing it with HR, sir, and I wanted to tell you before they started asking questions. That's not the only thing," she said quietly, closing her eyes a moment and swallowing, before looking at Gibbs again and gritting her teeth. "Though Daniels was adamantly defending the two of you, Chris and Scott were using some language that I find very offensive, and honestly frightening. I'm not comfortable working with him alone in here."

"Evelyn," Gibbs said quietly, taking a small step towards her, feeling protective suddenly. "That sounds like more than throwing a few "fags" and "queers" around."

"He was saying how- how we should all be rounded up and shot, Agent Gibbs," she said, her fear breaking through to the surface, bringing tears with them that she did her best to swallow back. "That it would be what God would want." She wiped at her eyes furiously, and Gibbs suddenly realized what her fascination with his and Tony's relationship was.

Dorney's right, he thought. We're becoming the Navy Yard's poster child gay couple.

"Evelyn, would you be willing to testify about what you heard to an HR board?" Vance asked.

She took a breath that got caught in her chest. And then nodded emphatically as she met Gibbs' eyes. If they can do this, I can do this, she thought.

"I-I-I admit, sir," she said, looking back at Vance. "I'm terrified of doing so. My partner and I aren't out of the closet to anyone outside of a very, very close group of friends and a little bit of family. She's stationed on the Justice currently, but even with the repeal of DADT, the crew she's with… well she doesn't think they would be very welcoming."

"They're due into port July first, aren't they?" Vance asked.

Gibbs nodded, his eyes still locked on Evelyn, and she nodded as well. He was in shock that she was willing to take this step for them. He knew it had a lot to do with her own safety, but a couple of weeks ago, she might have just stayed safely in the closet, even more determined to hide her relationship.

He felt so many different things running through him that he had never let himself feel about things like rights issues, and culture shock, and hiding and being open with your sexual preferences. He'd never really thought all of those things applied to him, because he had never thought an actual relationship would come of his encounters with a man, but they suddenly meant so much. It was like being hit with a heavy dose of reality. These were issues that had affected him all along, he had just chosen to ignore them because it felt safer. He felt like he had been a coward all this time, and he vowed to himself, Tony, Dorney, Elly, Evelyn and her partner to be brave from here on out.

"Gibbs?" Vance said, interrupting his thoughts. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, I want to go deck him. That's not going to do any of us any good," he said, making eye contact with Evelyn again. "That sounds like a threat to me, Leon. I'd like to treat it as one."

"Get McGee up here to run Evelyn's board. The two of you go to my office and write it up. I'll have security pull the tapes and see if we have any sound, and as soon as you have it written up, I'll pull Agent Daniels for an interview on the matter."

"Sir-" Evelyn began.

"If anyone asks, you had a family emergency, and you're taking care of it. When I get the report, we'll do a threat assessment, and I'll let you know where we're going from there. In the meantime, I'm going to have him and Leach escorted to interrogation rooms one and two."

Evelyn nodded, and picked up her belongings. Gibbs went to a phone on the counter, and punched a couple of numbers.

"Tim. I need you up here to run MTAC for a while."

"Sure. On my way, Boss," Tim said, hanging up. "Gibbs needs me in MTAC for a while," he called to Ziva.

Ned looked up at him. "Why? Is Davidson back?" he asked. He looked down on his monitor, researching the different illnesses that may have been thrown at them, and running through the possible ways it can be distributed.

"I don't know. He said he needs me to come run MTAC for a while, so I guess they don't have anyone to run the boards."

"That makes no sense," Dorney said. "Both Evelyn and Scott were just up there." Ned got to his feet, picked up a stack of printouts and his notebook, and followed Tim to the room upstairs, completely ignoring Elly.

As they were coming in, Vance, Gibbs and Evelyn were leaving. As they passed each other, Ned looked at Evelyn with concern, noting her eyes. She smiled sadly at him, and then Gibbs leaned over to whisper in his ear, squeezing his shoulder.

"Under no circumstances are you, Elly, or Tony to be left alone with Scott. Am I clear?" Gibbs pulled back to look Ned in the eyes and waited.

"Crystal," Ned said, feeling a cold chill run from head to toe. He knew Scott was bad news, but to have Gibbs say that none of them should be alone with him made him feel like he was going to piss himself more than when the Colonel came on screen asking who he was. Gibbs nodded his approval, and squeezed his shoulder one more time before he pulled away.

"Take care of him in there, Tim," Gibbs said, giving him a look that told him he meant much more than what he was saying. Tim picked up on it right away, and despite being eager to find out what was whispered, ran over to the boards to make sure he didn't miss an incoming signal.

Ned followed, though much more slowly. His mind was racing. He pulled out his phone and opened up a text.

Gibbs just told me that none of us are allowed to be left alone with Scott from MTAC. He and Vance just escorted a teary-eyed Evelyn out of the room.

He sent it to Elly and Tony, and then went over to whisper to Tim what he had been told. Before Tim could fully react, two things happened at once. Davidson was asking for a connection, and Scott came back to the room.

"Where'd Evelyn go?" Scott asked with a smile, a cup of coffee in his hand as he returned to the station he was assigned.

"I think something happened at home. She left here crying with the Director," Tim said. "Dorney, I got your guy coming up."

"Thanks."

"Agent Dorneget?" a voice said seconds before an image finally displayed.

"Davidson. How'd it go? How are they doing?" Ned asked.

"They made it back here in one piece each sir, still breathing, and Rod is still fully conscious, if not more than when we found him. We administered the doses Colonel Russel told us to, and the epi pen is doing wonders for him. We also have him drinking some chicken broth. I wish I could say more for the Lieu. He's having it rough. We were able to bag his clothes and get him into something hopefully a little less toxic, and then sponged him down with water as cold as we can make it. His fever is bad. There's a good chance we're looking at brain damage if he survives this," Davidson said, adding the last part much more quietly than the rest.

Ned closed his eyes, and nodded.

"We're dousing him with rubbing alcohol. That's supposed to help. It's an especially hot one here today though, sir. When the decon team gets here, they can get him to a hospital, and maybe they can deep freeze his ass or something. He's at 104.3 and rising. He was at 103.7 when we picked him up." Davidson's voice was as quiet as he could make it while still being heard on the receiver.

"Can you try creating a layer of cold packs around him, packing them in close, wrapping him in a light cloth, then wadding up paper and putting another layer of light cloth around that? Create a three inch or so paperball wall between the two thin layers of fabric, and it will help insulate the cold and keep it in. Make sure his wrists and feet are getting iced and alcoholed as well. The veins are closer to the surface there than anywhere else on the body. Cooling those crucial parts, as well as the head and heartzone can cool the rest of the body."

"Carmento! Diaz! Get over here, now!" Davidson relayed the instructions to them, and they set off immediately to get to work. "Anything else you can think of, Doc?" Davidson asked.

"You have any Tylenol?" Tim asked from the board.

"Yeah? Who's that?"

Tim got to his feet, and came to stand next to Ned.

"Agent Tim McGee," he introduced himself. "How much Tylenol has he had so far?"

"He hasn't been responsive for a few hours now, and apparently it was gone long before then. What are you thinking?" Davidson pulled a large plastic first aid kit into view of the camera and started opening it up.

"Is he swallowing at all?"

"He's not going to swallow a pill, though we did have luck with some water."

"Okay. You need to take two of the pills, and crush them into an extremely fine powder. Use a rock and a plate, whatever you have to. You want this stuff at least as fine as powdered sugar if not softer."

"I can do that," Davidson said, taking one of the little packets out. Without even opening it, he sat it on a table, picked up a nearby hammer, and started tapping on it repeatedly.

"Once you get it super fine, dip a cotton swab in it, and stick it up one nostril, and dust it around in there. Then cover his mouth with your hand, and hopefully, he'll snort it. It goes into the bloodstream a lot faster that way. Don't do more than two, and make sure you tell the decon team what you did."

"You ever do this before, Agent McGee?"

"Once in college, but with a different drug. We were doing an experiment on better ways to introduce anxiety medications, and were working on prototypes for nasal inhalers."

"Snorting Xanax? How'd you end up being an Agent?" he asked as he pounded the pills.

"My undgrad was in biomedical engineering. My masters is what led me here. If he's not inhaling it, you can try dusting it in his mouth and trying to get him to swallow more water."

"Got it. Alright. I'm going to give this a try. Wish me luck. I'll update you via email here when they get picked up so you know to start riding Russel's case. And then my team is going to decon ourselves, and we'll start working with the information Garnier has given us."

"Davidson," Ned said, his voice suddenly stern.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's Booker's status right now?"

"Uh? Sir?" Davidson asked.

"I know that Lieutenant Stephens was excited to hear that Booker was one of the attachés to the assignment, and I assume that it's mutual. He's got to be taking it pretty hard right now."

"He's taking it like any friend would, sir. He's angry, he's worried, but he's a Marine, and that means he's focused."

"I get that. Make sure he isn't too focused. Remind him to protect himself out there when you go after these jackholes."

Davidson smiled at the term, and it took the sting out of the demand. "Will do, sir." Ned smiled and nodded back. Davidson reached out and turned off the connection to the tablet. Ned looked over and saw that Tim was already back at the console. He didn't look at Scott, but walked directly to Tim.

"I'm going to head downstairs and work on some research. I hope Tony's made it out of traffic. This morning has been, like, totally nuts."

"Hey," Tim said as Ned turned to walk away, making him turn back. "You seem to really be fitting in up here. You liking it?"

"It's my future, but if I'm not careful, Vance is going to make it my present, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"Yeah you are," Tim said with a smile.

"No, I'm not," Ned said, stepping back towards Tim. "Until I can look the men and women I'm sending into danger in the eyes, and tell them I've been there, I'm not ready." He saw the approving nod and smirk that Tim gave him, and nodded back. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Ned walked out of the room, his heart pounding hard. Can today get any weirder? He wondered.