It was two more days before they were allowed to leave the mountain - two days of cleanup and debriefing and a hurried memorial for those who'd fallen defending their home planet.

It was, Tony reflected, both more exciting and more boring than the movies made it seem. They'd finished up the case files on Majors Thomas and Morgan, handed over their notes to O'Neill, and met with the base commander, General Hammond, for debriefing and, surprisingly, a word of thanks for their assistance in defending the attack.

"I'll see that commendations are put into each of your files," Hammond said. "It's poor thanks for your assistance, but it's the best that I can do."

Then they were on a transport back to DC as though nothing untoward had happened.

And, Tony thought, as far as anyone else was concerned, nothing untoward had happened. Colonel Kennedy reminded them of that quite forcefully at a second debriefing when they landed at Anacostia-Bolling, and Tony bit back his observation that even if they told anyone what they'd done, no one would believe them.

Then they were back at work. Unsurprisingly, Ziva asked about what had happened, undeterred by reminders of need to know and orders from above. When she loomed over McGee, Tony snapped.

"Officer David. Put yourself in his place. If someone questioned you about a classified operation, what would you do?"

Ziva blinked at his tone - one Tony rarely used because he'd hated it so much when his instructors at Remington Military Academy used it on him. Then his words sank in, and she turned to McGee.

"My apologies, McGee. I will not ask again."

After that, things returned to normal - at least mostly normal, Tony amended. The banter they normally shared seemed stilted and formal at first, but as the nightmares of combat and snakes emerging, Alien-like, from the bodies of people they knew faded, the jokes returned, however slowly.

Two weeks after their return, they sat finishing reports on a smuggling case they'd just closed when the phone on Gibbs' desk rang. Tony instinctively reached for the drawer where he stowed his gun. But then Gibbs was hanging up and not rising from his chair, not saying, "Grab your gear," and Tony sat back in his seat, watching his boss for any hint of what might be going on.

Then the elevator dinged and Tony looked up to see a figure in Air Force ABUs emerge from it. He recognized Colonel O'Neill immediately, and rose to meet him.

"Let me guess," O'Neill said as he approached, casting a critical eye on the room. "Lowest bid on the paint contract?"

Tony grinned, and for the first time since he'd returned from Colorado, it felt natural. "Either that or somebody was tripping on controlled substances."

"What is an Air Force colonel doing in a Navy facility?" Ziva's question cut through the bullpen.

"Ziva -" Gibbs began, but O'Neill just grinned at her.

"Catching up," he said.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. She nodded once, then returned her attention to her computer.

"Someplace we can talk?" O'Neill asked.

"Conference room," Gibbs replied and led the way, gathering McGee and Tony with a glance.

When the conference room door was closed securely behind them, O'Neill fixed each of them in turn with a steady, assessing gaze.

"You guys holding up okay?"

"Fine," Tony said, while Gibbs grunted and McGee nodded.

"Uh-huh." O'Neill's tone conveyed his disbelief. "And I'm the Queen of England."

"Look," McGee said, and there was only a hint of a stammer in his voice. "I can't speak for Gibbs or Tony, but - yeah, it was intense. But it's also kind of what we do, you know? Protect the innocent, and all that."

"Against all enemies, domestic and foreign," Gibbs put in. "Though foreign has a wider meaning now."

O'Neill studied each of them in turn before finally turning his gaze on Tony. "You?"

Tony shrugged. "I did what I had to do, and I know that. Doesn't mean I don't regret the friendly fire."

"They died knowing their deaths prevented more," O'Neill said. "It's enough."

"It will be," Tony corrected, and after a moment O'Neill nodded.

"There a problem at the mountain?" Gibbs asked when the silence lingered.

"No," O'Neill replied. "Just some reports are best given in person, so here I am. Morrow sends his regards - and his thanks. And, because he's Morrow, he also sends these."

He shoved a hand into his pocket and when he withdrew it, Tony could see he held something concealed in his hand.

"C'mon," O'Neill urged, holding out his hand as though to drop something he held.

One by one, Gibbs, then McGee, and finally Tony extended their hands, palm up, to receive whatever he might offer them.

Then Tony was looking at the challenge coin lying in his palm, the words Secretary of Homeland Security engraved on the outside surrounding the seal of the office. When he looked up, Gibbs was pocketing his, and McGee was examining his with the focus of a laser.

"Morrow wanted to get SecDef coins for you," O'Neill observed. "But I told him that would just be pretentious."

Gibbs snorted, and Tony chuckled - the first honest laugh he'd had since he returned from Colorado. Then a question occurred to him.

"How does the challenge work," he asked, "when there's a tie? Say the three of us were challenging each other - we all have the same rank coin. Who gets drinks bought for him?"

"It goes down the line - whoever has the next highest coin," O'Neill replied.

"Oh," McGee said, perking up. "I have an admiral."

He dug in his pocket and produced the coin, showing it around before grinning at Tony. "Guess you're buying me a drink."

"Doesn't count if your father gave it to you, McGee," O'Neill observed mildly. McGee frowned at him, but Tony just shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Even if it weren't his dad, I win."

"Tony." McGee's tone held that lecturing note Tony had come to loathe. "This is an admiral's coin."

"Yeah, McObvious - I can see that." In turn, Tony dug into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins and picking through them. "Let me see - captain, captain …"

"You have two captain's coins?" Gibbs asked, appearing mildly curious.

"Yeah," Tony replied absently. Who knew he carried so many coins - drinking and otherwise - in his pocket these days? "Captains of the Gipper and the Seahawk each gave me one when I was afloat."

"You called a Navy ship the Gipper?" O'Neill's tone conveyed both disbelief and scorn - typical, Tony thought, of the rivalry between branches of the service.

"We have a ship nicknamed the Gipper - the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan. And … we have a winner." Tony added as he found the coin he'd been looking for.

He extended his palm to let the others examine the coin resting on it.

O'Neill whistled. "Secretary of the Navy. Impressive."

McGee stared at the coin in Tony's palm, dumbfounded, before turning an angry glare on Tony. "How'd you get SecNav's coin?"

"Domino," Tony replied shortly. Those were memories he didn't want to relive. "And before you say you were there, too - you were in the van, not on the front line."

O'Neill clapped him on the shoulder. "Guess I'm buying the first round tonight."

Tony blinked. "Tonight?"

"I'm only in town tonight," O'Neill said, "and I usually buy guys who fought under me a round. Unless you're busy?"

"No," Tony began, but cut himself off and looked at Gibbs for confirmation.

Gibbs' mouth twitched. "Second round's on me."

* * END * *

I hope you enjoyed this first (yes, first) look at what I think might happen if the NCIS crew met the SG-1 crew. The sequel will be up when it's done. Thanks for coming along for the ride!