I had to do some slight revisions on this, so I'm reposting it.

Chapter 12 will be added soon, maybe today!

CHAPTER 11 - The Recruits

It was always good to talk to Ducky, and this time Tony heard all the inside scoop about an investigative club the ME belonged to, called The Sherlocks, and the case they were involved in. According to Ducky, McGee was dealing well with his new position as Gibbs' second, "although, I must say, dear boy, that he doesn't quite possess your instinct and ability to see the entire picture." Abby was still recovering from "being instrumental in sending poor Seaman Hayes to prison for sixteen years, despite the hair analysis test at that time being deeply flawed, unbeknownst to her," and "Eleanor appears to be having issues with that husband of hers, but she still manages to be a strong member of Gibbs' team."

"And what about Gibbs?" Tony asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Ah," Ducky replied as if that was a difficult subject.

"Okay, spill, Ducky. What's going on?" Tony asked, doing his best to disguise a niggling feeling of worry.

"His demeanor is somewhat cantankerous, though at times I believe I see signs of melancholy in his expression. Both Abigail and Eleanor have made attempts to visit Jethro at home, and I gather Abigail had the door shut in her face for being rather too inquisitive. Eleanor took a more subtle approach and located Jethro in the basement. He was, as usual, working on his boat. She told me that he denied being lonely or sad, and did not seem at all interested in company."

"You can't get him to come out of his cave for a meal?"

"I'm afraid that Jethro has refused numerous invitations to join the team for dinner or drinks. Dr. Taft paid a visit to him last night, but I fear he must have overstepped his bounds because Jethro grew quite angry and told him to leave."

"Wow, first of all, that's quite a report, Special Agent Mallard," Tony said. "What exactly did Taft say to Gibbs?" It took quite a bit to get Jethro to blow his top, so whatever was said, he must have hit a sore spot.

"Dr. Taft came to me this morning, troubled. He confessed he had made light of the fact Jethro had not been laid – his words, not mine – for too long a time, and insisted Jethro go bar-hopping with him as his wing-man. Jethro refused. Taft insisted, saying some unkind things about Jethro's past relationships in the hope it would spur him to accompany him."

"No, he didn't!"

"I'm afraid so. It escalated to the point where Jethro threatened to throw a punch, and Taft threatened to have Jethro removed from duty pending a psychiatric evaluation."

Shit, that was not good. And why hadn't Jethro told him about it? "What happened? Pistols at dawn?"

"The incident occurred only yesterday. Today Jethro was at work as usual, and kept his emotions close to the vest," Ducky said. "Being badgered and cornered, especially where feelings or personal matters are concerned, would upset anyone. People tend to think that Jethro is lacking emotions just because he doesn't wear them on his sleeve."

"They should know better than to underestimate him," Tony said, shaking his head.

Ducky continued, "After my little chat with Dr. Taft, I am confident that in the future he will know better than to poke at the bear. Taft went back to Jethro's this evening, in fact, and apologized."

"Oh yeah? And how did Jethro take it?" Not well, he was sure.

"Taft called me to let me know that Jethro told him to keep out of his head and his personal business, and then shut the door in his face," Ducky said, chuckling.

After he'd finished his call with Ducky, Tony sat back and had a good, long laugh, picturing Gibbs slamming the door in a surprised Taft's face. Oh, how he wished he had been there to see it. But then he thought about Jethro, preferring to spend time in his basement rather than go out and socialize. Nothing new with that, but he would feel better if the man went out with a colleague, just for a meal. Maybe with Fornell.

Was Jethro lonely, or simply finding the construction of his new boat more interesting than the company offac friends and coworkers? Tony had the feeling that it was a bit of both. He hoped Jethro wasn't drinking too much, or working on the boat half the night. He would have a talk with him, make sure he was sleeping in their bed, not on the couch. Jethro did not like answering questions about himself, but at least Tony knew he was better qualified than anyone else to handle the man.

◊ • ◊ • ◊ •

"Am I what?" Jethro asked over the line.

"Are you lonely? You know, because it's not good if you hole up in your basement, and drink booze and stare at the pin-up of his half-naked body when your partner leaves town for a few weeks," Tony said carelessly.

"Jesus. You've been talking to Taft?" Jethro said angrily.

"Fuck no! Why would I talk to him? I admire the guy for his skills, because he saved your life, for which I'll be forever grateful, but I find his constantly jokey manner… annoying as shit," Tony admitted. "And anyone can tell he's not a happy guy underneath all those wisecracks."

"Ducky," Jethro said. Tony could picture him nodding, knowing who'd ratted him out.

Tony asked, "So, did you actually toss Taft off the front porch, or did you just slam the door in his face?"

After a moment of silence, a slightly sheepish Jethro said, "I shut it firmly."

"Uh-huh. Is 'firmly' a euphemism for slammed?"

"The guy was in my face! He was in my basement! And he seemed to think my life was going down the fucking toilet! Can you believe he wanted to hold my hand while I picked up some woman at a bar and took her home? Of course I booted him out. What the hell d'you expect me to do?"

"Hey, I probably would have shown him the door, too."

Jethro sighed deeply. "I want you home," he said, sounding defeated.

"I'll be back soon, in a few weeks," Tony said, concerned about the way Jethro sounded. "Are you okay? And don't give me any bullshit 'fine.'"

"Tony…"

"What's going on, Jethro?"

"What d'you think's going on? You're there and I'm not. I want…"

"Tell me. I'll do whatever you want," Tony promised.

"When you're done there, move in with me," Jethro said bluntly.

Tony didn't know what to say. The idea of being with Jethro both at home and work was his life's desire, but in reality, being with him 24/7? Seemed like a recipe for disaster. And how long would Jethro be able to stand him before the relationship soured? "Oh, Jethro…"

"Fuck. Forget it," Jethro muttered, as if it were a stupid idea.

"No, no! I love that you're asking me but…" It had been less of a request and more of an order, but it was the thought behind it that counted.

"But you won't consider it?"

Tony sighed, suddenly finding himself on very unsure ground. Oh hell, he was crazy about Jethro, and what did he have to lose? "How about… We give it a trial run? Maybe through the end of December?"

Immediately Jethro bargained, "Six months. Until May."

"Okay. But are you sure?"

"You can retreat to your own place when I get too grouchy for you."

"You never get too grouchy for me. I like Grouchy Gibbs," Tony said, smiling.

"It's settled then. You agree," Jethro said, making certain.

Tony's heart was pounding as he replied, "I agree."

"Damn, I love you," Jethro said.

Tony could picture him grinning. He wished he could see it. Next time, they'd have to do a video call. It would entail giving Jethro step-by-step instructions on linking up through his laptop, which he rarely used. Although it was sure to be an exercise in frustration, seeing Jethro's handsome face as they talked would make it all worthwhile.

◊ • ◊ • ◊ •

"… and Marsden, Blake and Howe look the most promising, and… Tony, are you listening?"

Tony belatedly realized Joanna was talking to him. They were seated next to each other in the library, with folders and notes spread all over the coffee table. "Oh, sorry, mind was drifting a bit. How about we start the scenarios tomorrow, see how they do under real-world situations? I want to gauge how they interact with each other, and who's best at improvising," Tony suggested.

Joanna placed a hand on Tony's arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Okay, I'm sort of missing my team, and friends…"

"And Gibbs?" she asked gently.

"Oh yes, I definitely miss being ignored – or barked at," Tony said dryly, hoping she wasn't implying what he thought she was indirectly saying.

Joanna searched his face for a moment. "Ned was always telling me what a good friend you were. You listened to him when he needed to talk things out."

Tony felt his ears getting hot. He shrugged. "He was a good man."

"I want you to know… if you need someone to talk to, I'm here," Joanna said, meeting his eyes.

"Thanks, Joanna. Dorney loved you so much, and I understand why." Joanna gave him a quick hug and suggested they head over to the barracks, where the dozen remaining recruits were waiting. They'd whittled the applicants down by half over the last couple of weeks, a process that had involved some hard decisions.

Tony liked several of the promising candidates, and a couple of them caught his eye for a more personal reason. One of the young men, Wilder Jones, was an athletic looking man in his late twenties who had just completed the FBI training course. With a buff body, long blond hair, and a full-lipped mouth that screamed 'made for giving blow jobs,' Wilder immediately captivated him. Tony knew he had to obey his own Rule #21 (Look but don't touch) but damn it, it wasn't easy to keep slutty thoughts out of his head.

Tony found Wilder to be smart and inventive, but the committee wasn't sold on the idea he looked enough like the common man to merge undetected into a crowd. After Wilder donned some nondescript, baggy clothing, and worked with Garcia on his body language, it seemed as though he might actually fit in.

Whenever Tony was in his presence, Wilder acted shy, but then Tony caught the recruit watching him intently when he returned from his early morning run, all worn out and sweaty. There was no doubt the young man was interested in him in a sexual way. It was tempting to follow through and sneak off into some dark corner to fuck the guy, but Tony reminded himself it was a bad idea, on so many levels. He wasn't used to reining himself in. But things were different now – he was committed to Jethro – so he kept their conversations brief and professional. Wilder, unfortunately, did not make the cut, and Tony was sorry to see him leave.

There were other temptations, but the person Tony lusted after the most was a burly police detective with fifteen years on the force, whose big hands looked like they could snap someone's neck with next-to-no effort. Detective Costas had dark eyes framed by the thickest eyelashes Tony had ever seen on a man. He gave Tony big grin whenever he spoke to him, and even gave him one of those allover perusals while adjusting himself. Now, this man, Tony thought, would not be on the receiving end.

Still, Tony drew a line at fucking, or being fucked, by recruits. It was unprofessional, plus, he kept reminding himself, he had a boyfriend at home. A boyfriend he was going to move in with as soon as this was over.

One of the recruits Tony had his eye on stood out for a completely different reason: Alice Brown, age thirty-nine, was a longtime patrol officer out of Brooklyn. She was widowed, with grown kids, and had a pleasant yet forgettable face. As he'd pointed out to the committee at their last meeting, "She stands out because she doesn't stand out. I'll bet that if Alice was the bank teller who cashed your check today, you'd never be able to pick her out of a lineup tomorrow. She's bright, and even though her background doesn't suggest it, she's ambitious."

"In undercover, that's a good thing, blending in," Garcia said, nodding. He was a good-looking man, but there was little about his appearance that stood out, except maybe his sharp, analyzing eyes, and he'd been successful at undercover work for years now.

"Why hasn't she raised above patrol?" asked Cox, crossing his beefy arms across his chest.

Teague said thoughtfully, "Alice has been taking care of her aging mother, dealing with a deadbeat husband – both now deceased – and her children… Tony, doesn't she have two kids?"

"Margie, nineteen, and Brandon, eighteen, both moved out and are living nearby," Tony said without needing to open Alice Brown's folder.

Joanna continued, "All of those anchors in her life are now out of the way, so she's free to focus on what she really wants to do: undercover work."

They went on to weigh in on the positive and negative attributes of the candidates, and made final decisions about who to cut, based upon a grading system they'd worked out. They'd hone the remaining recruits' skills, then run scenarios, and would take them in small groups to the nearest city to see how they fared in real-life situations. Tony was looking forward to that part of the program.

◊ • ◊ • ◊ •

"Tony, didn't hear from you last night," Jethro said over the phone.

"Yeah, well, I was a bit busy. We took the recruits into the city and put them in situations, undercover, so we could observe."

"It go well?" Jethro asked warily, as if he already knew the answer.

"No. No, it didn't."

"Talk to me."

Tony was seated at the big kitchen table with a cup of steaming near-black coffee in front of him. It was early and he was the first one up. He hadn't been able to get much sleep last night and now he really needed a lift from the caffeine. He sighed and told Jethro about the previous day's activities, the fiasco. It was a miracle nobody had been killed, and he said as much.

They'd divided the twelve recruits, the best and brightest, into four units. Tony, Cox, Teague and Garcia were acting as monitors for each three-person unit. The idea was to give them fictitious backgrounds, drop them into a crowded situation, and see which unit was able to achieve their goal. In this case, they had to cozy up to someone and use their back-story to extract information from that person. Not an address or bank account, just some personal story the subject wouldn't normally reveal. One recruit was the primary, the other two acted as on-scene support.

"We just wanted to get them used to dropping into their undercover persona really fast, to get what they came for, and to be extracted safely. On my team, the first one up was Alice. You should see her, Jethro. She takes on the voice, body language and story of a character faster, better than anyone I've ever seen. She plays a totally believable tired mom who works two jobs and is just happy to be out of the house. The transformation is unbelievable."

"What happened?" asked Jethro.

"We were at the bus station. At first it seemed like Alice was doing okay, getting real close to a woman with a kid, who looked like she was in some sort of trouble. But then this man came out of nowhere and started pushing the woman around, and Alice intervened. She got his arm behind his back, but he got free and punched her in the face." Tony ran a hand through his hair and stared miserably into his coffee cup. "It wasn't Alice's fault. She did nothing wrong. The guy was a loose cannon. I was responsible for her, for all three of them, and I didn't move fast enough. I lost control of the situation and…"

"How is she?" Jethro asked, concerned.

It took a moment for Tony to get the words out. "Black eye, sprained wrist. I think I was more shaken than she was."

"So she's okay. That's good."

Tony erupted. "No, it's not good! Nothing about this is good! I never should have taken them out in the field without more practice. Maybe a smaller crowd. I knew the bus station was going to be tough to control. I knew it but I wanted this to work, for everyone, and I took a risk with one of my people and… Jesus, I fucked up."

"Yeah, you fucked up. But now you know. So move on."

"Don't you fucking tell me to…! Fuck!" Tony knocked his coffee cup off the table with a sweep of his hand.

"Tony! DiNozzo!"

"I can't talk about this now. I have to go," Tony said, his voice tight. As he hung up, he heard Jethro saying, "Call me later."

He sat there for another ten minutes, going over everything in his head, until Rob Cox came in looking for coffee. Rob fried up eggs and bacon while Tony cleaned up the broken mug and spilled coffee.

Rob served up two plates full, one of which he placed in front of Tony. Tony shook his head but Rob insisted, and once Tony started eating, he discovered he was hungry. When he was done, Tony admitted he felt a bit better. It was then that Rob told Tony about how he'd been a supervisor of a group of fresh FBI undercover agents-in-training, and all the mistakes both he and the trainees had made. "So get it into your thick skull you did your best and that you can't control the unexpected. Learn the lesson and move on."

"I'm responsible."

"Yeah, you are."

"This is harder than I thought it'd be," Tony admitted.

"We're packing a lot into a short amount of time. There's bound to be problems along the way. But we've got some good people out there, and they're learning fast," Rob reminded Tony.

"Thanks, Rob. For the breakfast, too," Tony said, appreciating the man taking the time to talk to him.

Tony went out for a run, and by the time he'd done the loop around the lake, and had showered and changed, he was due at a committee meeting. Teague assured them Alice was fine, and was itching to move on to the next undercover lesson.

After they finished their business, Tony went to the barracks to see Alice. The bruise on her eye looked bad, and he immediately felt awful, but Alice told him how all her fellow recruits now wanted to take selfies with her. "And now I can show my kids what a badass SMUT gal their mother is," she said proudly.

Tony was glad the recruits were being so supportive, and he made sure that Alice knew he was there for her, too. "Everyone, next time, keep your eyes on your partner's back. Rule #15: Always work as a team."

"Wait, there are rules?" one of the recruits asked.

That made Tony laugh. "Of course there are rules…"

◊ • ◊ • ◊ •