Ok, I really tried for the once a week updates, but I was getting bored. I'm writing chapter eight right now. This is chapter four. So, while updates still aren't going to be overly frequent, I'm probably going to do about twice a week from now on. At least until I find a new job, then it might go back to once a week. Well, I hope you enjoy our latest chapter!

Chapter Four

Tim hung up the phone and stared at it quizzically. Tony seemed a lot angrier than he should have been. It didn't make any sense. Tony always loved undercover work, he thrived at undercover work. He was always happiest when he got to be somebody else. Why did he sound so angry this time around?

"Tony and Gibbs aren't coming back," he said to Ziva as she swerved around her fourth car.

"Why not?"

"They went undercover."

Ziva slammed on the breaks. The car behind them slammed into the bumper. Tim shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Ziva you know you can't just stop in the middle of the road like that."

Ignoring him, she started shouting. "What is going on McGee? First Gibbs drives all the way out to West Virginia, alone with Tony! And then he goes off to that stupid farm, again, with Tony. And now they are staying together?" She turned to glare at him. "If you know something that I do not, you will be in serious trouble!"

"Ziva! I'm just as confused as you are. Tony didn't tell me anything, except that the farm was really a resort and he and Gibbs have taken over as Spano and Keller. And they want us to find everything we can about them to help with that."

"Like when Tony and I went undercover as those married assassins?"

"Exactly. Although, hopefully, with better results. But knowing Tony…" he trailed off.

Ziva stared off in the distance, probably reminiscing about the time they were undercover. She said that Tony took seven strikes to the face. He was bloody, woozy and in incredible pain by the time they found him. Ziva didn't have a scratch on her.

"You know he's gonna be ok. He's with Gibbs. Gibbs'll never let anything happen to Tony."

*~*

They walked into the bar and glanced around. It looked like any other bar. Smoke filled the room, along with the stench of stale beer. The place was dimly lit, and tables and booths covered about half the space. Along the wall closest to the door was the actual bar that stretched from end to end. A few men sat on the stools, nursing their beers, or trying to pick up the fellow next to them. In the middle of the floor were two pool tables, currently in use. Tony recognized a guy with graying hair and a bushy mustache as a state Senator. He was standing behind his partner, rubbing his backside.

"So, how do you wanna play this, Nick?" He stayed close enough to Gibbs' side to appear somewhat 'coupley" without falling all over the man. That would have blown their covers because Gibbs would have thrown him across the room.

"Do what you do best, Tony." Gibbs stepped further into the bar, his eyes continuously scanning the crowd.

"Quote movies?"

Tony could tell Gibbs was about to slap his head. But at the last moment, he grabbed the back of Tony's neck and squeezed. "Flirt."

Tony paled. "These are all men, boss."

Gibbs pulled him closer till his lips brushed against his ear. "Don't call me 'boss' around here."

Tony clamped his eyes tight to stave off the shiver that coursed through his body. He did not need Gibbs to think he had an effect on him. "These are all men, Nick."

"Well, yeah, I know that Tony. But you're supposed to be gay, remember?"

"So what are you gonna be doing?"

Gibbs smiled at him as he headed towards the bar. "Listening."

Tony rolled his eyes. Typical Gibbs. Make Tony do all the hard work, while he just sat and watched. It'd be no different than him watching in MTAC.

They sat down at the bar next to a man who looked like he wasn't having a lot of luck getting laid. He was moody and practically crying in his beer.

Tony saddled up next to him, smiling. "Why the long face?"

The man jerked up. He stared at Tony with wide eyes. His mouth opened and closed about five times before he actually spoke. "Are you talking to me?"

Tony popped his elbow on the bar and rested his temple against his fist. "Am I looking at anybody else?" He wriggled his eyebrows.

The guy frowned. "You want me to buy you a drink, don't you?"

Tony shrugged. "Not drinking tonight."

The guy scoffed. "Really?" Tony shrugged again. "So why are you talking to me?"

"I have to have an agenda?"

"Guys who look like you don't talk to guys who look like me without an agenda."

That was true. Normally, Tony wouldn't flirt with this guy. He was pudgy, he wore big glasses and his hair was thinning. He looked like McGee in about ten years. If Tony was here to have a good time, he would have passed over this guy and moved right onto the hot blonde behind the counter. But guys like him were usually ignored. It was remarkable how much ignored people heard.

He shrugged. "Look, I'm gonna be straight with you." He reached up and pulled the man's glasses off his nose. The guy leaned forward, trying to scrape his face against Tony's fingers again. "I'm not here looking for a quick lay." Tony's eyes darted to the counter and then back up. "I'm actually looking for a partner. Guys like, say the bartender, aren't the kind of guys you bring home to your parents."

The guy licked his lips. Tony's smile brightened. He reached out his free hand. "I'm Tony Spano."

The guy grabbed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckle. There was a predatory gleam in his eye. "Carter Felswith."

Damn, Tony recognized that name. Carter Felswith was a big time CEO of some computer company stationed out of New York City. He really was an older version of McGee. But more importantly, Felswith didn't recognize his name. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. He just flirted with a nerd for nothing.

He slowly peeled his temple off his fist. Gibbs was still behind him, but sitting a few seats away. He tucked his thumb between his middle and ring finger and tilted his hand outward for Gibbs to see it better. His sign language was minimal at best. He was able to convince Abby to teach him a few things, but that was typically just the alphabet and swear words.

It worked. After only a few short moments, Tony felt a hand grasping his shoulder again. He didn't squeeze nearly as hard as when Dr. Fisher hit on him, but his muscle was bruised, so it still stung. "He's not bothering you, is he?" Gibbs had that look in his eye. It was the look he got when he was about to pull out his gun and shoot somebody. He left his gun back in the room, right?

Felswith gaped again. "N-no, we, we uh, were just, um, talking." He smiled.

Gibbs smiled. It made Tony's gut twist. But not with fear.

Without warning, the older man was pulling him off the stool and away from the bar. He groaned. "Onto our next suspect, I assume?"

"We're gonna play pool."

"The tables are full."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Not gonna be a problem."

From the way he tensed up, Tony could tell Gibbs just wanted to push him again. Tony rolled his eyes and strutted over to the table with only two people at it. Both sets of eyes looked up as he approached. "Got any room for new players?"

The younger of the two stood up. Definitely military. The haircut was wrong for the Marines, Tony guessed he was Army. He had a presence about him. Someone young who had clearly seen more blood and death than a person his age should encounter. But he wasn't here as a soldier.

His sparkling blue eyes roamed over Tony's body. The agent was grateful that he chose to wear jeans that morning. He looked good in jeans.

The older man seemed wearier. Could be his first day, or just his first trip. Either way, he didn't trust Tony. The agent paid extra attention to him.

"Come on, how 'bout it? Me and the old guy," he jerked his head at Gibbs behind him, "and you two." He leaned his hip against the table and leaned back.

The soldier smirked. "You any good?"

"I have many talents."

The weary guy still looked jumpy, but he also looked slightly aroused. The soldier watched intently as Tony scratched his inner thigh. "Stakes?" He asked.

"Losers—i.e., you—buy the winners—i.e., us—drinks."

"You're kinda cocky, aren't ya?"

Tony arched his eyebrow. "Do we have an accord?" He always wanted to say that.

The weary guy finally spoke up. "We don't even know your names." He practically jumped at the question.

Tony nodded. "Tony Spano." He watched as the blood disappeared from the man's face, leaving his already pale complexion even paler. "This is Nick Keller." Gibbs moved closer so he was standing next to Tony. He rested his hand on the table behind the younger man, his arm casually brushing against his back. Tony stiffened.

The soldier looked Gibbs over. "Marine?"

Gibbs smiled. "Army?"

The soldier nodded. "Corporal Josh Jarvey."

"Lieutenant Colonel."

Jarvey nodded again. This time, it was a sign of respect for an older officer.

Tony could have sworn. Jarvey was clean. He didn't recognize their names, or react, and he respected Gibbs for being a Marine. Soldiers and Marines hated each other. Either Jarvey was too young to realize that, or Tony's initial assumption about him was correct. He served, probably in Iraq, and he was loyal to anyone else who carried his burdens.

They waited patiently for the weary guy to finally speak up. So far, he was at the top of Tony's personal suspect list. He recognized Spano's name. Tony was definitely going to have to saddle up on him. "Wilbur Griffin."

Tony's jaw dropped. He knew that name. Hell, everybody in the country knew that name. Wilbur Griffin was a televangelist. He was quick to becoming as popular as Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell. One of his more popular sermons was how homosexuals were going to burn in the eternal fires of hell and how the straight majority had to help them in any way possible find the way back to the light. The Christian fag basher's a fag.

Why would somebody like Wilbur Griffin want to kill Spano and Keller?

"Well, now that that's all settled, whatdoya say we get this ball rolling?" Tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

Jarvey started collecting all of the balls. "Hope you're prepared to lose."

"Never."

*~*

Surprisingly enough, Tim and Ziva made it to Keller's apartment in one piece. The guy who hit them wasn't very happy with the damage to his front bumper. Tim tried to warn the guy that Ziva was Mossad trained, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Finally, Ziva snapped and knocked the guy to the ground with her gun pressed against his cheek. The final straw? He called her 'ma'am.'

Tim sighed heavily at the memory. Working with a former Mossad assassin was, if nothing else, interesting. No such thing as a normal day when Ziva was around.

He scanned the living room. The walls were white, and the carpet was beige. There was a worn tan sofa and matching recliner. Both were worn with too much use. There was no television set—sounded like Gibbs—but there was an impressive number of books. Tim scanned the bookshelves. Western novels, spy novels, a lot of Tom Clancy.

"Hey!" He found something that excited him.

Ziva ran back into the room, fully prepared to bag any evidence that could be useful.

Tim pulled the book off the shelf. "Deep Six! This guy read my book." He studied the spine. "A couple of times." He had a big goofy grin on his face. He absolutely hated it when his coworkers read the book, but he never felt more excited that a Marine Colonel had read it.

Ziva shook her head and headed back into the bedroom, muttering something in Hebrew.

Tim put the book back and continued to look around the room. "Well that looks interesting," he said under his breath. He kneeled down next to the coffee table. "Found something!"

"What?" Ziva called back from the bedroom. "Deep Six volume two?"

Tim cringed. He didn't want to know how she—or the rest of the team for that matter—would react if they ever found out that he published a third… or a fourth.

"I think Keller had a frequent visitor!"

Ziva finally came back into the room. "Who?"

Tim picked up the object with his gloved hand and flicked it at Ziva. She caught it easily. "The Secretary of the Navy, himself."

Ziva studied the coin in her hand with furrowed brows. She shook her head. "No, it's not."

That annoyed him. "Ziva, I can read, you know. That coin is SecNav's."

"Tony told me about a game that he learned when he was Agent Afloat. Whoever carried the highest officer's coin, who ever… rubbeed knees with the biggest silver, everybody else had to buy that man a drink. Tony has SecNav's coin after the case with Agent Lee."

Tim had a hard time registering everything Ziva just said to him. "You mean, 'rubbed elbows with the biggest brass?'"

Ziva seethed. "For goodness' sake McGee, is that really all you got out of that?"

He jerked back a little before she got too angry. "You think that Keller's visitor rubbed elbows with SecNav?"

"Someone in the Navy, perhaps?"

Tim's brows scrunched together. "Spano. He was a Navy judge."

Ziva huffed. "That does not surprise me. They went on vacation together, they were obviously close." She sat down on the coffee table.

Tim glared. "You find anything?"

Ziva nodded. "Lieutenant Colonel Keller has taste much like Gibbs. All of his clothes could be bought at Sears, he owns about two pairs of shoes in total, and everything he owns has a purpose."

"Any signs of the kind of women he likes?"

Ziva jerked her head to stare at him with confusion and contempt. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Gibbs is playing Keller, he's gonna need to know everything about how this guy acts."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "He has no pornographic materials hidden anywhere, there's no sign that a woman has ever lived him. He appears to be a lifelong bachelor."

Tim groaned. That wasn't really helpful. It would help Gibbs, if the guy was similar, to play him better.

"Let's bring the computer back, maybe that'll be more helpful. Then we'll take a look around Judge Spano's place."

Ziva nodded. Together, they undid the wiring so they could load the machine back up into their car. This time, Tim drove.

I apologize it's so short, but alas, it was necessary for the plot line. And I'm sorry to say I still haven't written any good man love yet. But it's getting there, just slowly.

Now seriously, I am really sore right now, I started taking Krav Maga classes on monday, and my legs are still hating me. Please, be kind, make me feel better, and review. Please?

Bob