Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony couldn't remember a time when the name wasn't on his wrist. Some of his schoolmates would tell about the day that their name had first appeared, but for Tony it had always been there. Of course, it was a child's writing, carefully spelling out "Danny", but he had no memories of his wrist being bare. Tony's mother always tugged his sleeves down over his wrist, and it wasn't until years later that he thought he figured out why.

In his first few nights at the Military Academy, he learned that some people would take issue with the fact that his soulmate had a male name. Though society was officially accepting of homosexual relationships, given that about thirty percent of soulmate pairings were such, there were still areas where those kind of things was frowned upon. Tony quickly learned how to fight in the occasional scuffles that broke out when one of the older boys decided to go after him for being gay. It was then that Tony assumed that his mother had been ashamed that he had a boy's name on his wrist.

It wasn't until many years later, when he caught an unguarded fight between his father and stepmother number four, when she screamed about the name "Elizabeth" on his wrist that Tony developed a new theory. His mother — Claire — had always hidden her wrist behind large bangle bracelets, and Tony now knew it was because she wanted to hide the fact that she and his father weren't mates. It was then that he discarded the idea of her being homophobic, and decided that she probably didn't want a reminder of Tony's destined mate when she wasn't with her own.

As a child, however, he only remembered staring at his wrist in awe, carefully tracing out the letters with his finger. In the end, he got Raoul the gardener to teach him how to write his own name, and the first four letters he ever learned to make were T, O, N, and Y. He practiced them over and over in the dirt of the garden, where he could easily brush away the evidence, until he could form his name perfectly — at least in his estimation. Only then did Tony finally write his name down on paper, hoping that the polished Tony would be what appeared on his Danny's wrist, rather than his somewhat weak attempts in the dirt.

When Tony was nine, the name on his wrist morphed, changing to "Daniel Jackson." Sofia, the cook, told Tony that it likely meant his soulmate had experienced a great change in his life. He was probably an adult now, she mused. If he was eighteen, it would mean that he was nine years older than Tony. At his age, that seemed like a ginormous gap, but Sofia assured him that pairings with up to ten years gap were very common. It was also possible, she pointed out, that he was closer in age to Tony, but that his name was changing for a different reason. Perhaps his mother had gotten remarried, and he took his stepfather's name. Remarriage was a common enough occurrence among the adults his parents associated with, so Tony accepted that explanation. A month later, he was sent to his first boarding school, and Tony stopped thinking about his soulmate for a while.

When Tony made the varsity Basketball team as a Freshman, he dropped the "junior" from his name and started styling himself 'Tony DiNozzo, #25' with his jersey number. He had seen an interview with Larry Bird and his girlfriend, and she had shown off his signature on her wrist, with his jersey number — 33 — after his name. Tony vowed then and there to keep the same number in every team he was on, so that his soulmate could find him faster that way, and changed his signature. He hated the way his father called him Junior, anyway, and he had been disowned three years earlier, so it wasn't a hard change to adjust to.

It took some creative wiggling, and more than one bribe, but Tony managed to keep the same number through high school and Ohio State. He put way more thought into his number than anyone guessed, picking one that was standard in the NBA, MLB, and NFL for his position. Originally he had wanted to go with 13, the birthday of Alfred Hitchcock, who even at fourteen, Tony believed was the best filmmaker to ever live.

However, a little research showed him that lower numbers were highly coveted, and he would struggle to keep hold of his consistently. He toyed with Hitchcock's day of death, but 29 was frowned upon in the NBA. Finally, he settled on 25, for the year that Hitchcock created his first feature film: The Pleasure Garden. And so for most of a decade, he became Tony DiNozzo, #25. Whether he was running the football in the fall, shooting hoops in the winter, or playing shortstop in the spring, he was always number 25, from Freshman year at RIMA through Senior year at OSU.

It wasn't until his leg was broken in three places — tibia, fibula, and patella — that he realized he could never go by that signature again. He practiced his old 'Tony DiNozzo, Jr' with his finger in the air until he could do it without the lines shaking.

When he became a pledge in his frat house Freshman year, Tony refused to ever write his pledge name down in its entirety, fearing that it would only take him acknowledging it once to make it appear on Daniel's wrist. There was no way in hell that he wanted his Daniel — his genius partner who had gotten a PhD during Tony's Junior year, Jesus! — to have to live with the words 'Sex Machine' forever printed on his skin.

When that PhD had been appended to Daniel's name, Tony had just about had a heart attack. He wasn't a good student — he was an athlete, not a bookworm — but his soulmate had a Doctorate! And either he needed to step it up in class or he needed to bring something else to the table. At first, he had considered changing his majors. Kinesiology and Music had seemed like good choices for a double major at the time, but once Daniel became a doctor… Tony had always done his best not to lie to himself. Everyone else might lie to him, but Tony owed it to himself to tell the truth. And the truth was that this injury was going to change his life forever.

As soon as he was able to think clearly through the painkillers, Tony asked each of his advisors to meet with him. Mrs. Kopjek was sympathetic, but confirmed what his past teachers had said. Tony was a gifted musician, but not gifted gifted. He'd never be that one in a million whose name became synonymous with their playing. He could probably earn a decent wage playing piano for a local symphony — a bit more if he was willing to work with a musical theater group or as an accompanist. He hadn't really displayed the temperament to be a teacher, but he had the skills for it if he calmed down and got comfortable around kids. He was decent as a composer, she allowed, but he tended towards jazz and classical forms, and the only money to be made anymore was for people who could write for the radio, and that required also being a lyricist.

In other words, nothing that would impress Dr Daniel.

Tony was only one class shy of finishing his music degree, and he'd already made good progress on his thesis piece, so there was no point in dropping the major, but there was no point in pursuing the field any further.

Tony's kinesiologist advisor, Mr Blocker, unfortunately had similar news. If Tony hadn't been injured, he had a good shot at being picked up in either the football or basketball drafts — even Tony knew that he was just a warm body on the baseball team since they'd gotten a new superstar shortstop last season. He'd actually contemplated dropping the team for his final year, before that damn Wolverine made the choice for him. Now, instead of being drafted, playing a few years, and then segueing into a coaching position, he'd be joining the hundreds of wannabe trainers who followed each team around.

The good news was that this degree at least had more breadth than his music one. He could become a personal or athletic trainer or a physical or occupational therapist, Blocker advised. A variety of coaching and training positions existed across the sporting world, both at the college, professional, and even Olympic level. If Tony was willing to think outside the box of football basketball baseball, and embrace something like figure skating or luge, he could probably find himself in a pretty decent position somewhere. That wasn't a horrible idea, and much better than his initial gloomy fears, but Tony was still haunted by that PhD after Daniel's name. How could he do something good enough for Daniel?

When he pressed about higher education, Blocker told him that there were a few paths leading from his field. If he was willing to go to med school, he could become a general physician of sports medicine, or pick a related specialty, such as orthopedic surgeon or chiropractor. There were also a few laboratory and research positions that needed a kinesiology background, but sitting still in a lab had been the hardest part of school for Tony. He was a physical guy, preferring to move his body more than a desk job would allow. Blocker finally threw out one idea that was a little out of left field, but he'd had a student follow that path a few years earlier, giving him the idea. He suggested that Tony look into forensics — crime scene stuff — because his knowledge of the body could come in handy there, either in a coroner's office or a technician's position.

It certainly gave Tony a lot to think about, and he acknowledged that becoming a Doctor himself might make him feel worthy of Daniel, so he spent several days chewing over the problem in between physical therapy and doses of painkillers that made him loopy as hell. Tony hated them, and none of the doctors believed him until the fifth drug they tried still made him ramble incoherently and make up words at the drop of a hat. He finally convinced them to just give him extra strength Tylenol, willing to deal with the extra pain in exchange for managing to keep his head screwed on straight.

In the end, Tony finished both of his degrees amongst his physical therapy appointments, and just barely managed to walk across the stage without crutches to collect his diplomas. He still had a ways to go before he would be fit enough to apply for the Academy, so Tony threw himself into his new criminal justice studies as eagerly as he had thrown himself into his rehab. When he and Dr Daniel found each other, Tony wouldn't be limping like an old man and adrift without a plan! He would be a mate worthy of his Doctor!

From one precinct to the next, Tony never gave up his dreams, or his pledge to be worthy of his partner, but with age came a listless fatigue and a resignation that he and Daniel might not ever find each other. Attending weddings, seeing his friends pair off… Tony might have only just turned thirty, but he was starting to feel like an old man in the soulmate stakes. Surely they should have found each other by now, shouldn't they have? Every day, his resolve not to abuse NCIS resources and search for Daniel like some common criminal became weaker and weaker. Every case, he wondered if he was in the right place, doing the right thing.

Getting the plague was the worst. Tony thought he had a pretty comprehensive experience with hospitals and rehab, thanks to his college years, but he could now categorically state that feeling like your lungs were melting was way worse than a shattered patella. And yet, the worst part was the way Kate and Abby would look at each other across the room when they were checking on him. He wanted someone — his soulmate — to be there for him; to care that he had almost died, and to want to nurse him back to health. Friends were nice, but they weren't a soulmate.

Then Kate was killed, and the absolute devastation on Abby's face made Tony pause. Was finding his soulmate worth the pain of maybe losing them someday? What if Doctor Daniel was already dead, lost to an accident that Tony hadn't been around to prevent? Or the victim of a crime that Tony would be too late to solve? What was the point in looking, anymore?

Kate was dead. Ari was dead. Daniel might as well be dead for all Tony could find him. Maybe it was time to become a grumpy old bastard like Gibbs. Tony had lived through two of his divorces, and heard more than one woman scream that "she would never be her!" He didn't know if Gibbs' soulmate was dead or still out there, but it didn't matter, really. If Gibbs could live without his mate, then so could Tony, right?

The next morning, Tom Morrow returned.

Chapter Text

Tom Morrow poured over the files for his new command. He had thought that making the switch from NCIS to Homeland Security would be a — if not easy, move — a move lacking in many huge surprises. He had dealt with terrorists in his time at NCIS, including their recent nightmare with Haswari, and so he thought that Homeland would just be more of the same. Nothing could have prepared him for the briefing he attended on his second full day in the position, when General Hammond laid out his parallel mandate to run Homeworld Security.

Just the memory of that revelation made Tom run his hand down his face tiredly. He had been able to view some Homeland files early, in anticipation of his move, but everything regarding Homeworld was under the highest secret classification. He could only look at it from one computer, with a dedicated monitor in his office, meaning that he had to stay late to catch up on this side of his job. He had started at the top, reading through the information on those who had been read into the Program — the Joint Chiefs and so on — so that he would know who he could speak freely to.

Following that he had begun to work through the top brass within the program, starting with his boss, Hammond, who had commanded the SGC until a year ago when he was promoted up to Washington to create Homeworld. Then there was Hammond's former second, cum replacement, O'Neill, now also headed for Washington. Unfortunately, the chain of command almost immediately became muddled, as the Stargate posting was divided into teams, run by both officers and civilians. That was different from the departments, which also had mixed command chains. The head of a department could have Lieutenants reporting to them directly, yet be placed on a gate team led by only a Master Sergeant. Which begged the question, could the Master Sergeant give the civilian an order to pass to the Lieutenant? It was all highly convoluted.

Finally, Tom decided to prioritize the first Gate Team, as they appeared to be the highest ranking members of the program, and then go department by department, before tackling each team on its own. O'Neill was easy, of course, because Tom had already read his file, though he was technically no longer a member of the team, and replacing him would be one of Tom's first jobs. Next was Colonel Carter's file, which held no great surprises. One thing that made Tom take note, however, was that in each personnel file, in addition to the standard headshot, Stargate Command had included medical photos of identifying marks, including all soulmate markings. Generally speaking, the military didn't keep track of such things, but a quick call to his contact, Major Davis, cleared things up slightly.

Tom supposed that if they were regularly having doppelgangers appear on base, having their team members cloned, or rapidly aged, then keeping track of identifying marks and tattoos — including the names on their wrists — just made good sense. Now, however, Tom was supremely grateful for that practice. Because here, in the file for Dr. Daniel Jackson, he found himself staring at a very familiar couple of signatures that he had seen on more paperwork than he could count in the last few years.

Tony
Tony DiNozzo, Jr
Tony DiNozzo, #25
Officer Anthony DiNozzo
Detective T DiNozzo
Dr Tony DiNozzo, PhD
Special Agent Tony DiNozzo
Senior Field Agent Tony D DiNozzo

"Well, damn," Tom murmured to himself, rocking back in his chair. Standard practice in the Federal Agencies and most police departments was to have agents cover their non-dominant wrist to protect the name of their loved one. Troops in combat did the same, and it was standard practice for deployed marines and sailors. While the names often came up in NCIS investigations, the agents themselves tended to be secretive about their soulmates.

Tom was well aware that Gibbs had lost his soulmate when his first wife died, and he had been to a few of his agents' weddings, such as Rick Balboa's, where their wrists were prominently displayed. With the others, Tom didn't ask and they didn't tell. Even if he had known the name on DiNozzo's wrist, it would have meant nothing to him until two days ago when he was read into the Stargate program.

Now, though, Tom had a dilemma. DiNozzo had been through more in the last year than any man deserved, and Tom knew he wasn't involved long term with anyone — at least anyone interested in visiting him in the hospital when he was fighting the plague. With Jackson wrapped up in such a top secret program, the odds of DiNozzo running into him any time soon was practically non-existent. And damn it, Tom wanted to see the man happy! DiNozzo had put up with far more from Gibbs than anyone deserved, and if surviving the god-damned plague didn't earn him a shot at happiness, then Tom didn't know what would. The only problem was how to engineer…

Glancing at the clock, Tom saw that it was still reasonably early in Colorado. It was about time that the marines in the SGC were represented by NCIS, he decided. And he had just the agent in mind.

Tom enjoyed the look of shock on DiNozzo's face when he strode out of the elevator.

"Director? Uh, I mean, Former— Deputy— uh, Sir?" he stood easily, despite his less than graceful greeting.

"At ease, DiNozzo," Tom joked with a smile, and he was glad to see DiNozzo return the gesture, even as his posture eased. The whole team had been rocked by Todd's death, but DiNozzo, who fell into the support role for the others by virtue of being the SFA, and by being the 'big brother' of their little family, was the most on edge. He tended to focus more on supporting the others than taking care of himself, Tom had noticed in the past. "Do you have a case right now, Agent DiNozzo?" Tom continued.

"Just cold case hell, until the TAD arrives," DiNozzo replied smartly.

"Good," Tom nodded. "Can I speak to you in a conference room, please?"

"Sure," he agreed easily, allowing his shock and confusion to show on his face. Tom had always been amused at how expressive DiNozzo appeared, given how good he was at masking his emotions while undercover. It was clear that he either chose to be so open at work, or was allowing certain things to show on his face in order to hide others. Tom would bet on the latter.

Gibbs was clearly out getting a coffee, as his desk was empty, so there was no one to prevent Tom from escorting DiNozzo to the closest conference room. Once they were settled, Tom began. "I take it you've heard of my promotion?" he asked.

"Deputy Director of Homeland Security," DiNozzo replied quickly. "Theoretically a step down from being full Director here at NCIS, but definitely a raise in visibility — people have at least heard of Homeland. So it probably evens out to a lateral move," he concluded. Tom caught his eye and he flushed. "Sorry, Sir."

"I haven't forgotten your tendency to run at the mouth in the whole week I've been gone, DiNozzo," Tom joked with a small laugh. "I want you to know that I had intended to offer you a place at Homeland, but there wasn't a good time to tell you, with the Haswari situation," he began. DiNozzo's eyes had widened at first, but he was clearly puzzling over the tenses. Tom let him off the hook. "Now, as it happens, I have a need for an NCIS agent at a very special posting, so I've changed my mind about how exactly I intend to poach you." he concluded with a smile.

It was only because Tom knew DiNozzo so well that he could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He had managed to beat his old two-year record with four at NCIS, and he had to be wondering if working for Homeland, away from the team he had grown so close to, was worth it. Any decent investigator who spent more than a day around DiNozzo could work out that he had abandonment issues, and Tom had actually read his jacket, giving him a fast line into the younger agent's head.

"Sir, I know that everyone thinks I'm crazy to survive with Gibbs for so long—" Tom held his hand up, immediately forestalling the polite 'no' that DiNozzo was clearly about to give.

Slowly, telegraphing his motions, Tom let that hand fall, and rest on DiNozzo's hand where it sat on the table. Gently squeezing the worn leather band — Agency and Military standard — that hid his wrist, Tom then brought his eyes up to meet DiNozzo's. "Son, I really recommend that you accept the Homeland liaison position." he said clearly.

DiNozzo had to be shocked, but like the seasoned undercover agent he was, not a trace of it escaped the neutral mask that suddenly slammed across his face and hooded his eyes. DiNozzo took a deep breath, then another. Finally, quietly, he asked, "You've seen my— my—"

"I saw Daniel's," Tom corrected gently, then removed his hand. They were dancing around it, but discrimination policies forbid hiring and firing based on confidential soul mate marks. Without having seen DiNozzo's, Tom shouldn't bring it up.

DiNozzo let out an explosive sigh, eyes widening even as he jerked his own hands back into his lap. From the small movements in his shoulders, Tom suspected he was rubbing his right hand over his wristband, possibly tracing the signatures below. Tom gave him a moment to absorb that before continuing.

"I want you to know that there are only a handful of NCIS agents I would trust to fulfill this posting, and you are one of them," Tom continued. "And I wasn't blowing smoke when I said that I intended to steal you away to Homeland, initially. There's about a 25% chance that I would have offered you this post regardless, and from what I understand, I might actually — probably — need more than one agent, which would make it about a hundred percent I'd try to steal away both you and Gibbs."

He knew that DiNozzo struggled with praise sometimes, but Tom wanted to make his position clear. While there were fewer Marines in the mountain than an Agent Afloat would have to deal with on a Carrier, they also experienced a far more extreme danger than at those postings. AFOSI hadn't been read in either, from what little Tom saw, and he might need to make it a joint department. Then there was Area 51, Atlantis, the Trust, and he had seen references to a mole in the governing body… then there were the spaceships: should each one have an Agent Afloat? Or the AFOSI equivalent? Were they basically boats in space, or planes? Tom had realized early this morning that he might need to poach an entire team of investigators. He would have done his damnedest to get DiNozzo anyway; Jackson's file had just accelerated his timetable.

"I— I need…"

"A few days to make a decision?" Tom said easily. DiNozzo nodded. "Very well. I'll be talking to Director Shepard today about my need for NCIS agents for a classified mission, and give her a timeline for deciding the names of who I want. I'll speak to you in… three days? To see if I'm asking for you to be the first one?" Tom offered.

"Yessir, Thank you, Sir," DiNozzo replied on autopilot, though Tom saw gratefulness in his eyes.

"Good man," Tom shook his hand and then stood up. "I think I still know the way out," Tom joked. Then, he paused. He knew it was inappropriate, but his curiosity got the better of him — the curse of being an investigator. "If I can ask one thing?"

DiNozzo gulped, but nodded gamely, "Of course, Sir."

"The number 25?"

His eyes widened slightly again before DiNozzo managed a small smile. "My jersey number, Sir,"

"Ahhh." Tom nodded. It was an unusual choice, and he had to have used that signature even in classes or for a long period of time to get it to stick. But also unique, and exactly the kind of thing he could see a younger DiNozzo doing to set himself apart or to make himself easier to find. Anyone who watched college ball might have made the connection between his unusual name and his number, especially as he was a multi-sport athlete. Though, from even a cursory read of his file, Tom knew that Jackson wasn't the kind to watch college ball, unfortunately.

"Also, the year that Hitchcock created his first full length film. It was called The Pleasure Garden, starring Virginia Valli and Carmelita Geraghty," DiNozzo continued, even as he began to escort Tom out of the room and towards the bullpen. "It followed the life and loves of two chorus girls at the Pleasure Garden Theatre in London during the Roaring twenties."

"I'll have to watch that one day," Tom decided as he headed up the open staircase.

"You won't regret it, Sir," DiNozzo promised as he skirted the dividing wall towards his desk. Gibbs was sitting at his own desk with a large coffee cup, and he watched their return suspiciously.

"I'm sure I won't," Tom promised, then held up three fingers.

DiNozzo nodded. He'd hear back from him within three days. Of course, Tom was already sure what answer he'd get. Now he just needed to convince Jenny to part with some of her best people, and then have Davis prepare a mountain of NDAs.

Tom was not entirely surprised to find DiNozzo waiting for him in his outer office when he arrived at work the next day. The man looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep, but he was practically vibrating in his chair. Tom's secretary wasn't in yet — he had come in early to continue to slog through the SGC files on his dedicated computer — so he quickly waved the agent into his office. "Come in, come in, Son. I take it you have an answer for me?"

As soon as the door closed, DiNozzo came to attention in front of Tom's desk. "Yesir. I should have said yes right away. I'll take the position, if you'll still have me, Sir." he said quickly.

Tom hid a smirk: he had always known that DiNozzo would take the offer. "I do still want you, Son. Have a seat," he offered.

Looking relieved, DiNozzo accepted, sliding into the closest chair. "Now, that said, this is a dangerous and classified posting. You're going to have to sign an NDA about three inches thick before I can even tell you where it is," Tom explained. "What I can tell you is that you will continue to be an NCIS agent, and ostensibly report back to the new Director Shepard. In reality, it is more likely you will report to someone in my chain of command, as Shepard doesn't have the clearance to know what you're doing, got it?"

"Got it, Sir," DiNozzo nodded firmly, his eagerness not diminished in the least.

"This posting will be on a mixed base; I don't recall if you and Gibbs ever worked with AFOSI, Army CID, or the Coast Guard CGIS? I know you have plenty of experience liaising with local LEOs and other federal agencies like the FBI."

"Uh, yes Sir," DiNozzo explained. "We've had a few cases at the joint base at Anacostia-Bolling. Other than simple handovers of 'turns out he's yours not mine', I haven't had much interaction with the Air Force gang. We've gotten their documents and files in those instances, so I'm a bit familiar with their paperwork style. I've actually dealt with the Coast Guard themselves a number of times, when we've been out on the Potomac, but I've only worked with their Investigators once. Gibbs was…"

"In a mood?" Tom suggested when DiNozzo floundered. "His usual cheerful self?"

DiNozzo smiled faintly. "Yeah, there were two dead seamen and only one dead Coastie, so he thought the whole thing should go to us. The Coasties wanted to let us run lead but have one of them tag along like a liaison. Basically Gibbs said fuck that and took over completely and I went behind his back to keep CGIS Agent Donovan in the loop. I don't have what you'd call 'normal' experience working with them either. Army CID's never come up, in my experience. Ironically, from the LEO side, I've met them all."

"Really?" Tom was surprised, but then considered that perhaps he shouldn't be. NCIS worked with Metro all the time, after all.

"In Peoria we had local Marine and Air National Guard bases, so I handed over cases a few times to NCIS and AFOSI. I was working vice, though, so basically what happened was when we reeled in a john and found out he was a service member, we'd just throw him in holding and call the MPs to pick him up. Booking always did the actual liaising."

"In Philly it was the Naval Air Station at Willow Grove, but I was undercover with organized crime and never did normal police work where I might cross paths with the NCIS RU. And then in Baltimore I was right in NCIS's back pocket, but you know there's every kind of base in the area. With homicide, you learn pretty quickly to go, 'hey, this one's got dog tags, transfer him over' and get back to your other five cases."

"If I'd been a beat cop, I'd probably have been doing a lot more grunt work, the way Metro does for us now. But as a Detective I only crossed paths with the military cops if our initial street ID missed a military connection and passed it up to us instead, or we ended up with a military suspect, but even then we usually just dealt with a JAG lawyer. Still, it was enough for me to learn how to make nice during turnover and all the acronyms — though if they were annoying me it could be fun to pretend to be clueless and make them spell it out."

"Well I already knew that you were one of the best when it came to joint cooperation, but that cements it!" Tom said, pleased at the way DiNozzo's whole face lit up with the praise. "Not to mention, you've managed to keep Gibbs from burning every bridge we have in this town. I'm sure you'll find the skills transferable if you do end up in partnership with another investigative branch. I also know you're used to working in a two-man unit; and if I'm remembering right, you partnered with a few others, besides Gibbs, didn't you?"

"Yes Sir," DiNozzo quickly agreed. "When Gibbs did that two week sniper training class at FLETC, I bounced between Pacci and Kimball. Pacci had Cassie for a probie at the time, and she was showing promise for undercover work, so I was helping to mentor her there, in addition to supporting Pacci on their cases. But Kimball was between partners, so it was just the two of us; same dynamic as me and Gibbs. I also subbed for Rocky's partner that time when her whole family went through the flu while Gibbs's leg was in traction."

"Good, good," Tom made a few notes on his pad. "I understand that as a Police Officer you were used to working in pairs, but it's good to know that you've also had that experience with several agents. Now, as I believe I mentioned yesterday, it is looking more and more like I will need more than one agent. It's likely that I'll be forming, for all intents and purposes, a Resident Unit at the base, with potentially a few Agents Afloat. Normally, they would report directly to Director Shepard and they probably will on paper, but because of the top secret nature of this posting, those AAs would report directly to you, as Team or Unit Leader. I know that you've got experience mentoring agents in the last two years since the MCRT expanded, as well as your work with Cassie and TADs in the past, so I'm sure you'll be able to handle that duty here?"

"Yes, Sir," DiNozzo was doing a better job of masking his emotions, now that he knew he hadn't let his chance slip away.

"The final thing I want you to think on, since we've still got two days before I speak to Shepard, is the agents who would serve under you," Tom continued. "The final decision will be up to me, of course, and as I mentioned I have a few agents in mind already, but as one of their comrades you have a different perspective than I do, as the boss. Keeping in mind that these agents would have to be willing to take, not just an Afloat position, but one where they would have even less communication back home than usual. Someone able to handle top secret missions, who would be willing to take a post in the line of fire. Some of the agents might find themselves in an active war zone, I'm afraid. And, as I said, this is a joint base, so cooperation with other agencies as well as locals is a must. At least one of the Afloats will need to be able to handle strong personalities like Agent Gibbs. Basically I'm looking to poach the best and the brightest."

"I think I understand, Sir," The gears were clearly turning in DiNozzo's mind. "Gender or age restrictions?" he asked.

"Good question," Tom thought back to the specifications for the fleet spaceships — they weren't segregated like submarines — and honestly the aliens and ability to handle civilians were more of a sticking point than gender when it came to the service members in the SGC. "No restrictions by gender, but I'd like at least one of each, in case we ever need to enter restricted berthing. As for age, I don't want to put a limit on it, but this posting will require someone with a certain… mental flexibility. And, because of the classified nature, the brass won't want to be finding replacements every year or so. An agent who's just counting down their last year till retirement isn't going to be a good fit, nor is someone looking to make a big change or maybe start a family soon. That said…"

Tom quickly pulled up the notes he had made in his meeting with Major Davis the afternoon before. "An agent who is married to a service member could be a good fit, if we could read in their partner. And certain civilian professions are needed for the program — not just the usual medical and paperwork types either — so bringing a spouse isn't necessarily a deal breaker. I hadn't thought of it until you mentioned it, but not only should we be willing to consider married agents — which I know isn't the norm for Afloat positions — but we might even want to see if any of our top picks have a spouse who we would also want to hire."

"I'll keep that in mind," DiNozzo said, and Tom noticed that he had pulled out his small officer's notepad. "On that note, Sir…" he hesitated.

"Speak freely, DiNozzo," Tom assured him. "I promise I can take it and it won't impact your hiring. Once you're read in you'll see why it's important that we get the absolutely right people for the job, so I want to hear any ideas or complications you've got now, before it's too late."

"Yes, Sir," DiNozzo agreed. "Yesterday you made mention that you might want to poach Gibbs and I as a pair, but today you've been talking like I'm going to be in charge. You also wanted someone who was comfortable working well with others — especially from other agencies or service branches — and someone who the brass wouldn't want to replace any time soon…"

"Ah, I see where you're going," Tom leaned back in his chair. DiNozzo was making two very good points, with the same result. "You're right that, as an investigator, Gibbs is one of the best, but he might not have the flexibility, or the willingness to play nice with others, that this posting would entail. He would also not react well to falling below yourself on the chain of command, and after reviewing your file last night, I'm certain that I want you in charge." Tom made a mental note of the way DiNozzo practically glowed from that compliment, but kept his amusement off his face. "He might do well in a different capacity for me, but I might also refrain from poaching him and entirely gutting the MCRT. Do you have any other thoughts or questions?"

"Well, you mentioned working with the locals; would we be using their forensics, evidence techs, and coroners? Working at NCIS has gotten me spoiled, used to getting results in hours instead of waiting weeks if not months." DiNozzo grinned self-deprecatingly. "I know Agents Afloat do all their own evidence processing, unless the case is big enough to call a team from home, but I know some foreign bases have their own set up while some use the local resources."

"Those are excellent questions," Tom realized that he hadn't entirely thought this through. "And ones that I have to confess had not yet occurred to me. I was an agent first, but I was promoted up because of my political connections, rather than my administrative background. Being handed a fully formed organization hadn't prepared me as well as I could like for creating one from scratch. Should I assume that this is evidence of your criminal justice degree showing through?"

"Yes sir," DiNozzo flushed. "In one class, we were basically assigned to create a new precinct as a thought experiment. The idea was that your city was expanding so you were responsible for the logistics of creating a new department. When I started at NCIS, while I was learning all the new policies and naval terms, I was curious, so I did a little extra digging into the differences between police departments and federal agencies generally, and NCIS specifically. I kind of repeated the experiment for a Resident Unit setup."

"As a police officer, there's a lot of delegation. If you need heavy hitters, you call SWAT, or for the really big things, the National Guard. If you need specialists, you call the Bomb Squad, or firefighters, or harbor patrol or what have you. If you were lucky, you had your own profilers and cyber guys, but if you were unlucky you begged them off of the Feebs. More than that, though, there's a lot of delegation even within the department. There's a gun cage, where someone else cleans your gear, motor-pool, evidence lockup, and so on. If you're a street officer, you're basically either out on patrol, bringing someone in, or filling out paperwork. Everything else you turn over to someone with more narrow expertise."

"At NCIS, there were some similarities, but other differences. We called a brute squad of marines or EOD instead of SWAT or the Bomb Squad, but for all intents and purposes, that kind of delegation was the same. We'd also call the local firefighters and unis for help, and either harbor patrol or the Coasties for cases on the water. With regards to your new base, I'm not sure if we'd have those local resources. A squad of marines, probably, but local fire fighters or what have you? You hinted at us being in a war zone, or at least unfriendly territory, and if the base is that classified we're not necessarily going to want to walk up to the locals and ask to borrow some sugar or a forensics lab…"

"Then there's the stuff back at the office. NCIS motor-pool and bag bunnies — er, evidence collection techs — are great — miles better than any precinct I worked at — but would I have access to that kind of support staff, or would I need to train a few noncoms to do their best? Or would my agents and I be doing it ourselves? Taking a few extra classes in evidence handling is something we could do, but it isn't as easy to find a forensics expert or ME. If we didn't have ready access to local resources, but had to send everything back home or overseas — chain of evidence is a tricky thing at the best of times when you're not doing the hand-offs in person but relying on transport, but when you add in customs? That's a mess waiting to happen."

"Yes, I can see where you'd need your own dedicated analysts and lab space," Tom agreed. "There are scientists at the base who could potentially be used in the short term, but if they are the very people who you are supposed to be policing…"

"Then there's potential for a huge conflict of interest, yes, Sir," DiNozzo agreed. "Aside from that, you've got dispatch, records techs, I assume we'd be folded into the base's HR structure, but you'd need to make sure that those people knew the specifics of our duties and how we do and don't fall into the chain of command. That's another issue if we're given noncoms to do our grunt work, because they could be given orders by a superior officer that compromised our investigative integrity. Someone has to do all the general paperwork — I know as SFA I did requisitioning and such for my team, but there was a whole department who saw that we actually got those supplies."

"In the Police, we had aids and records clerks who would do a lot of the searching, compiling, filing, and so forth. Translators are usually a must, especially for an overseas base. Transcribers and technicians to run the equipment in Interview. Plus, any time we needed cameras or mics we'd need a technician for that. Data analysts and intelligence analysts, depending on our situation… you mentioned having science geeks on base, but we'd probably need some kind of IT set up, and if those geeks you mentioned are as good as Abby and McGeek at hacking, then we'd need either some crazy well-protected systems or our own cybergeek to protect our stuff from anyone wanting to snoop into an investigation."

"That also brings up the matter of location. I assume we'd have offices of some sort — maybe a small bullpen or conference room? We'd need a securable space to have evidence out while we're working, but also a private space for agents to report in. And something like MTAC, if I'll be coordinating with Agents Afloat or even back here at home. Evidence lockup, of course, interrogation rooms — ideally with an observation room as well — autopsy, body storage, labs for the analysts, potentially a garage not only for motor-pool but also if we're likely to be examining anything big, like vehicles. CID would probably already have a garage; I don't know what AFOSI does for planes or CGIS for boats, but I assume we'd be able to share a corner of some sort of dock or hanger space? Our evidence garage could probably be bundled into either one of those, if they hadn't done it already. Though it sounds like whoever we're joining isn't already set up, they might have requirements I haven't thought of. We'd need MPs to secure all of that, plus the brig."

"Obviously you've got JAG read in, so we'd need to know which lawyers we're allowed to talk to, and which Judges we can go to for warrants and such, plus a secure way to talk to them. At the precinct we tended to use aides for that, but I've noticed NCIS uses probies. I don't know if we'd need our own legal advisor, but especially if we're going to be working closely with civilians and locals, then we'd probably need someone really well read who can align all the different legal details. You mentioned having civilian specialists on the base, and one thing I learned from all those NCIS cases at contractor labs and such was that sometimes they're subject to the UCMJ but sometimes they're really not. And of course local laws apply to both service members and civilians when they leave the base, which is why I say we'd need someone who knew what the local situation was as well. You're looking at a pretty hot commodity from JAG there, if not a duo: one to handle the civilian issues and one the local ones. Plus JAG officers for your ships, if they're big enough, and we'd need a way to liaise with them."

DiNozzo looked up and flushed, seeming to realize that he'd been rambling. Tom finished his last note, and then added another one to see if JAG had actually been read into the SGC, because nothing he'd seen so far indicated that, before offering the now-nervous agent a smile. "Well I'm more confident than ever that I picked the right person to head this Unit," he said easily. "I hadn't even thought of a third of the support staff you've mentioned, let alone the physical logistics of where you would be working and processing evidence. Some of those things, as you mentioned, can be sourced through the existing base command structure, or through the others you'll be working with, but I think it's pretty clear that I'm going to need to go on a bit of a hiring spree as well. I'll need to see if I'm able to assign support personnel the way I can agents, or if I'll need to seduce a few people to transfer completely to Homeland. There might also be some Homeland assets who I can reassign, but I'll need to look at all their files first, whereas I've got a head start with NCIS personnel."

"Yes, Sir," DiNozzo agreed, relaxing.

"If you have any other ideas, please don't hesitate to let me know as soon as you think of them — the sooner I can get to work problem solving, the sooner we can get this Unit off the ground." Tom quickly pulled one of his brand new business cards out of the little tray for them, and added his new Homeland email address to it. "I'm sure my NCIS address will still be forwarding, but the new one is guaranteed to get to me," he explained before handing it over. "Now, before you go, do you have any ideas already for people you'd suggest I take a look at? Either agents or support staff?"

DiNozzo nodded. "I've got three or four agents in mind. Paula Cassidy, for one; she's a great investigator and good at thinking outside the box. Able to play well with others, but also capable of working solo while Afloat. I'd say Stan Burley, with a caveat. I know he does very well as an Agent Afloat, and anyone who survived those years with Gibbs can handle anything. I'm not sure, though, if he's looking to finish his twenty and get out, or if he's in it for the long haul, hence the caveat. He's been around… fourteen years with the Agency now, if my math is right, and maybe six years is long enough to not be a concern, but…"

Tom smiled. "I appreciate the caveat, but I'll certainly consider him, and Paula was already on my list. I agree with your reasoning for both."

DiNozzo seemed relieved that his initial picks met with acceptance, as he continued more firmly. "I'd also recommend Ned Dorneget, who I know has only just finished his probationary period, and I wouldn't send him Afloat solo obviously, but he's got good instincts from what I hear, and he'd do well with a partner. Cassie Yates is also on the young side, but she's a solid agent. I've worked with her several times, and she impressed the hell out of me. She's got a lot of charisma, and she did a lot of the liaising for Pacci because he wanted her to get as much experience as possible. She's also great undercover, and I know that's almost impossible to do on a base like the one you're describing, but if we ever had to go out with the locals, it would be good to have both a male and female agent with undercover experience."

Tom nodded as he wrote down both names: DiNozzo's reasoning so far was excellent, and though he was going to be completely surprised by what kind of "locals" they encountered, he was right that it would be a boon if he and Yates could go offworld and infiltrate as needed. When they regained contact with Atlantis, assuming that the expedition was viable and expanded, it would be a good candidate for a two person Unit, and either Cassidy or Burley could mentor Dorneget there.

"There's another… Sir, I know some people aren't very understanding about, uh, same sex soulmates, especially in the military?"

"This command is very open," Tom assured him. "I know several pairings who serve openly there."

"Well, Cass— she's got a girlfriend: her soulmate. They're waiting to be able to marry properly until Lily's finished her twenty in the Air Force. They were high school sweethearts, I think, and Lily was out at first, until she had some Drill Sergeant who promised to drum out all the 'fags' from Basic. You very carefully haven't said which branch we'd be working with, but if you had any need for a pilot…"

Tom gave him a reassuring smile. "Get me her last name and I'll do my best." As long as there weren't any black marks in her file, Tom thought Jack would jump at the chance to get another pilot who came paired with an investigator.

"As for support staff," DiNozzo continued, "I'd recommend Jivin Haldar in records, Jace Miller in cyber, and Bethany Dorchester in evidence for starters. They're all dedicated professionals who also know the score, and believe in justice. Miller's wife is in IT too; I think she works for a school? So she might be able to maintain our in-house systems if that was needed. Bethany's a military brat who couldn't serve because of a minor medical issue, so does what she can by working at NCIS. She's got a kid, though: not sure if that's a deal breaker."

"It shouldn't be," Tom assured him.

"I know Gerald is working to come back to NCIS after he finishes rehab, but I know he's expressed some hesitation about being in the Yard itself," Tony admitted. "I don't know who you'd have in charge of Autopsy, or if that is a frequent concern, but if they needed an assistant, or if you're able to wait until he finishes school and becomes an ME proper…"

"I'll look into it," Tom assured him. He was fairly certain that coroner duties were covered by the general doctors in both Colorado and Atlantis, but it might not hurt to actually have a coroner or ME in the program. He also knew that Gerald was close to finishing his degree, and would have already, save for the setback presented by his physical therapy.

"And last is one I'm really not sure about, but it couldn't hurt to ask, which is Abby." DiNozzo clearly saw the shock on Tom's face, because he hurried on. "I know she's the poster girl for not liking change, and she's got a strong attachment to Gibbs, but I don't know if you knew that K- Kate was her soulmate?"

Tom shook his head, though the wheels were starting to turn. "I did not."

"Yeah, um, long story, but Abby showed me her wrist pretty soon after I started at NCIS. She joined the Feds instead of a police precinct because Kate's signature said 'Agent,' and she thought they'd have a better chance of finding each other. Anyway, right now, she might be in the mood to get away from the Yard too, and possibly to even leave NCIS since that's what… cost her Kate. Obviously I haven't talked to her about it or anything, but right now I think the idea of a fresh start might be less scary than staying where she is, usual aversion to change notwithstanding. And since she'll already be experiencing changes with a new Director and me leaving…"

"I'll look into it — discreetly," Tom assured him. "And thank you for trusting me with those details. I assure you that they'll go no further, though if I may name drop you as the one who recommended her? Or any of them?"

"Of course," DiNozzo agreed easily. "I can talk to any of them too, if you need or want. You can give them my number if they don't have it…" he reached for his pocket, presumably to pull out a business card, but froze when he saw the watch on his wrist. "Oh crap! I'm an hour late. Gibbs is gonna kill me," he moaned.

"Well we can't have that, "Tom teased, even as DiNozzo finished retrieving the card. "I'll call ahead and make your excuses, while you skedaddle. Don't forget to send me any other ideas or suggestions!"

"Yes Sir. When I get home tonight I'll pull out my old notes in creating a precinct or RU and forward them to you, as well as any new people I think of." DiNozzo shook his hand politely before getting up and skedaddling.

As soon as he was gone, Tom leaned back in his chair and stared pensively at the hasty notes he'd made. While he knew his idea to introduce law and order to the Stargate program was the right one, he had not truly appreciated the scope of that project. He would have one of his aides do a little research into what it took to create a new, fully self-sufficient branch of a federal investigative agency, and then he'd have a meeting with Major Davis to plan their next steps and get in touch with AFOSI. DiNozzo had given him a lot of good information and ideas, and he was reassured that he had definitely picked the right man for the job, regardless of how things fell out with Dr. Jackson.

Chapter Text

Tom was somewhat relieved to find that his new command team was receptive to his ideas. He'd been working with them all day yesterday, in between learning all about the Program and creating a Resident Unit. He'd gotten a batch of files from DiNozzo last night, and spent this morning continuing to refine his plans.

Hammond and O'Neill had basically created the Stargate Program from the ground up, along with Carter and Jackson, who seemed to head the scientific and civilian aspects, respectively. None of them had an investigative background, and none of them knew enough to know what they were missing. When Tom pointed out to Hammond and Davis that they should have read in AFOSI and JAG, at the least, and NCIS once they added Marines, he was met with blank faces. After explaining why, their chagrin was clear. But as long as no one in the know had pointed out what they were missing, they'd hadn't realized the depth of the problem.

Finding out that most investigative duties fell to a mix of Davis and someone called Siler, from a logistical point of view, and O'Neill's SG1 by dint of his being the second in command, was enough to give Tom a headache. Finding out that there were trained investigators who could have — and should have — been doing this instead all along was enough to make O'Neill offer to kiss his feet if he never had to touch an investigation again. Tom got the impression that he'd meet Davis coming around the other side.

To that end, and since the SGC unofficially had an unlimited budget, Hammond and O'Neill were happy to approve whatever changes, equipment, and personnel that Tom wanted to requisition. The SGC already had a brig in Cheyenne Mountain, on Level 16, and O'Neill immediately agreed to clear out the rest of the floor, save for the command monitoring station that was hardwired in, to turn over to the new investigative department. With a blueprint of what was already there and the general shape, Tom would be able to lay out interview and observation rooms, offices, a bullpen, and even a forensics suite. There might be room to house records, but if not, O'Neill had already assured him that they could easily find space on another Level — most likely 17 or 18. The infirmary setup was already on Level 21, and included a small morgue, and Tom wanted to confer with the Chief Medical Officer and his eventual ME before deciding where to situate the autopsy suite.

Civilian berthing was already present on Level 15, for those who chose to live on base, and Tom was assured that rooms could be set aside for his people. Even if they chose to live off base, having a place to sleep during long investigations or even to just catch a nap, was crucial. Though if most moved off base, they might set aside a small dorm for agents to bunk in, rather than having a spread of dedicated rooms. Tom had noticed how many times Gibbs had kept his team overnight in the office, and he was sure that DiNozzo would much prefer a bed to the floor beneath his desk, even if it was in a room he shared with a group.

Tom had also taken advantage of the fact that his clearances for NCIS had yet to be revoked, and did a little digging. Aside from noting every department in the building, in order to see which ones he would need to replicate, he also pulled supply lists for places like autopsy and the evidence garage, and the full listing of equipment needed in the forensics labs. DiNozzo's own paperwork keeping the MCRT supplied gave him a good baseline for things like desktops, files, armament, vests, and the like. As long as one discounted the inordinate number of phones that Gibbs was wont to go through, it was a good starting point.

Tom was also able to get his hands on DiNozzo's requisitions for the MCRT in it's three person and two person incarnations, so he could extrapolate for however many agents he eventually had. Likewise, Tom had pulled the requisition and supply lists for the Agent Afloats of several different classes of ship. He would make some tweaks for the spaceships under SGC's command, but those were a good starting place.

It was looking more and more likely that the SGC would need a four man team, or possibly two three-man teams. The SGC was already used to functioning in four-man teams, so he might start with one and then expand to two as they ironed everything out. Area 51 would need at least a 2-man Resident Unit, reporting to DiNozzo at the SGC. And if the issues with the NID and Trust that had been hinted at turned out to be true, that base might need a full four-person team, or two smaller units as well. Atlantis was an unknown, but Tom was prepared to send them a two or four person team, not to mention the ships. All in all, he'd likely need a dozen agents, and another dozen or two support personnel.

He'd done some discrete digging into DiNozzo's recommendations, and liked all of them. Paula Cassidy and Cassie Yates were both on his short list, as was Sam Hanna. Tom trusted each of the four to lead a unit, and he thought they could work together as well. If he put Cassidy and Hanna at Area 51 to start, with Yates and DiNozzo at the SGC… he had to work AFOSI in as well. Tom made a mental note to call the SECAF and get the Director of AFOSI read in. Perhaps two teams with staggered leadership.

DiNozzo, in addition to being the SAC, could lead the MCRT at the Mountain, with an Air Force SFA. The second Mountain team would be led by AFOSI, with Yates as second. That would ensure equal representation, and he'd do the same with Cassidy and Hanna in Nevada. They could fill in the rest of the teams in mixed pairs as needed, including Dorneget — DiNozzo was right about his potential. Tom still needed to figure out how to deal with the ships, but he intended to put Stan Burley on one, with the potential to send him to Atlantis once that was figured out.

Then there was the support staff. Again, he was sure that his AFOSI counterpart would have suggestions, but Tom had also looked into DiNozzo's recommendations and made his own. His assistant, Cynthia, had been a godsend, and while he hadn't felt it necessary to poach her just to follow him to Homeland, he had no qualms about setting her up to handle all of the paperwork for running the new SGC unit. He didn't want to pull an investigator like DiNozzo out of the field, no matter how good a grasp he had on building a department, so Tom wanted Cynthia to coordinate the higher level paperwork and meetings as much as possible, to free DiNozzo up to do his core job.

Tom had also looked through the SGC's idea of HR, and been appalled at the single Captain in charge of it. He got the impression that that had been Davis's bailiwick, before he'd ranked up and become the right hand man of the Commander of Homeworld. Despite the high number of civilians on base, Captain Connors seemed to largely be in charge of handing out NDAs and filling out some kind of tax form for civilian payroll purposes. Payroll, on the other hand, ran like a well-oiled machine, and he'd been assured that they were capable of appending the appropriate ratio of hazard pay, as long as he provided base pay examples. Tom intended to get samples from OSI as well, because he wanted pay rates to be the same across the board, but in the meantime he used his NCIS access to get copies of the standard pay scales for agents, office staff, and specialists at NCIS and forwarded those on.

If the SGC's payroll department filled him with confidence, their HR — it was misleading to call one man a department — did not, and Tom was seriously looking at wooing Delores Bromstead away from NCIS. It wasn't fair of him to steal all of their best people, but he knew she was a good fit for the program. She was a lifer, with at least ten years left in her, and dedicated to serving not only the military, but the agents who took care of the troops. She had a reputation as a dragon, which was exactly what he needed to plop in amongst all the military brass on the base and trust her to get the job done. She could make Tom quail in his boots, which meant that O'Neill and the others wouldn't stand a chance. She'd take care of Tom's people, and the other civilians in the program, and get Captain Connors doing something useful with his time.

DiNozzo's other recommendations had also gone onto Tom's approved list. O'Neill was delighted with the file on Yates's soulmate, Lily Harris, so they'd be getting a joint offer, providing that Shepard approved her transfer. Jivin Haldar in records was a fine choice, and, though DiNozzo hadn't mentioned it, his wife worked as an evidence collection tech at the FBI. Tom had already requested her file, with the idea of getting the pair. Jace Miller in cyber also had a stellar record, and according to his file, his wife was a systems administrator at one of the local community colleges. A quick talk with Jace had convinced Tom that a sysadmin was exactly what Tom wanted to maintain their computer set up within the SGC, and keep all of the computer scientists in the program from sticking their noses where they didn't belong. That was another pair he was eager to hire.

Finally Bethany Dorchester. DiNozzo had known that she was from a military family, but not that her brother was one of the marines already stationed at the SGC. In fact, they had a cousin working as a scientist at Area 51, though Tom didn't know if the family had made that connection yet. She would be a good choice to work at either location, and in fact, with her years of experience, Tom might make her a department head and put her in charge of supervising both bases! Tom had also decided to have lunch with Miss Scuito, to follow up on DiNozzo's recommendation, and, glancing at his clock, he realized that he would need to leave soon to make that appointment. He was also eager to touch base with DiNozzo again and see if he had any other suggestions, as his first batch had all been perfect!

"Hello Miss Scuito," Director Morrow greeted her.

"Hello, Sir!" Abby tried to be her usual cheerful self, just like at work, but she wondered if he could tell how not okay she really was.

"I want to thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Director Morrow said. "I know things are always busy at NCIS, but I'm sure with a new Director, it feels even more so."

"Yessir," Abby replied, wondering if he had heard about some of the changes that Madam Director was making. Abby hadn't been hit by anything yet, but some of her friends were exasperated at Shepard's apparent need to stamp her own image on everything.

"I'm going to get right to the point, then, and I hope you'll allow me to explain myself fully before you decide anything," Director Morrow said.

His tone made Abby think that she really wasn't going to like what he said, but she nodded. "I'll try, Sir."

"Well then, the short version is that I'm offering you a job," he said with a smile. "Now, before you say 'no', the long version is that, when I switched over to Homeland, I discovered that one of our top secret bases was not being supplied with the NCIS or JAG presence that they were entitled to. I believe my unique position — coming from NCIS myself — made the situation more apparent to me than my predecessors, who all had civilian backgrounds."

"So there was no one protecting them, or investigating crimes, or giving them legal advice?" Abby was appalled. She wasn't military herself, but she had spent so long at NCIS that she couldn't help but feel for them. She just kept imaging her Gibbs in that situation, back when he'd been an active duty Marine. What about all the marines and sailors she'd met at NCIS? One of them could have been moved to this base and then gotten hurt without Tony or Gibbs to come to his aid. "That's horrible! Sir." she quickly added.

"It's a situation I'm trying to rectify as quickly as I'm able," Director Morrow acknowledged. "I consulted with one of NCIS's best and brightest, and he helped me realize that, with the size of this operation, and the lack of local help, that I wasn't just looking for a two-man investigative unit, but that I'd need MEs, forensics, evidence techs, records, all kinds of support staff."

Abby studied him carefully. Her first thought was that Director Morrow had been talking to Gibbs, but Gibbs wouldn't care about backup. No, she was almost positive that he had gone to Tony, instead. It would partially explain something hinky she had noticed a few days ago. She decided to test her theory. "You're taking Tony," she declared.

Director Morrow smiled. "Now, what makes you think that?" he asked mildly.

"If you wanted the best, then you went to the MCRT," Abby said confidently. "Gibbs would insist on taking his entire team — me and Ducky included — but he wouldn't care about the other kinds of support staff. Tony, on the other hand, makes a point of knowing everyone's name and what they do. And he's a cop. He told me more than once how awesome it was that NCIS could handle everything in house and so quickly. If you had him creating a new unit at a base from scratch, he'd want to try to bring all the help he could."

Seeing that Director Morrow was still smiling, Abby knew she was right, and she pressed on to the more controversial revelation she'd had. "Tony wouldn't leave Gibbs without a really good reason, and he was just short of panicking a few days ago. The next day he came in late, but smiling bigger than I'd ever seen him and gave me a huge hug." Abby lowered her voice. "His soulmate is on that base, isn't he? You found Doctor Daniel."

"I can neither ask, tell, confirm, or deny," Director Morrow said, but his wide smile belayed his textbook answer.

It took everything Abby had in her not to squeal out loud. "Finally!" she managed to gasp. She clutched her arms tight around herself, squeezing her own biceps with the strength of the hug she wanted to bestow upon Tony. She was going to drag him down to her lab and tackle him as soon as she got back from this meeting.

"What I can tell you," Director Morrow said, "is that anyone stationed at this base would be hard to contact, and wouldn't be able to come back home very often. I am looking for a forensics expert or two to join this new unit."

"And you came to me for recommendations, Sir?" Abby asked, the reality sinking past her joy for Tony.

"If you have any to give," Director Morrow said evenly. Still, there was something off about his expression. His eyes, she realized.

"You're not telling me something."

"I have worked with you for several years, Miss Scuito," he said, "And I know how attached you are to NCIS. I know that you have friends and family within the community, and are particularly close with some of the agents. It is well known around the Yard that you don't like change. Why, I remember the hazing you gave one Detective DiNozzo for his first few weeks," he chuckled.

Abby smiled fondly at the memory: she had been pretty hard on Tony at the time. But now he was one of her best friends. She was the only one who knew about Daniel, and he was the only one who knew about— "Oh." she breathed.

"My… contact suggested that you might not be as adverse to this change as before, and that you might put forth your own name to my shortlist of experts," Director Morrow continued. "You were his first choice, actually, and if I thought you would come, you'd be mine as well."

Abby wasn't sure whether Tony had actually told Director Morrow about Kate, or if he had just hinted that she might be looking for a change. Either way, Morrow seemed to have guessed, but Abby couldn't bring herself to hold it against Tony right now. She thought back over the last week, and about the years before that. Yes, things were changing right now. Kate was gone, there was a new Director making changes all over the place, and from the sounds of it, Tony was leaving. Actually, it sounded like Tony would be taking some people with him; people she might know. On the other hand, she could go somewhere new and exciting, be with Tony and the others, meet his Daniel…

The main reason Abby had picked NCIS to work at was because she wanted to work for a Federal Agency, and it was the better of the two offers she'd gotten at that level. She had considered switching to the FBI, once she'd made a bit of a name for herself and offers started coming in, but by then she was close to Ducky and Gerald, and especially Gibbs. The whole reason she had wanted to work with agents in the first place was because of the words 'Special Agent Kate Todd' on her wrist. Now… Now working for a visible Federal Agency didn't seem so important anymore. Now, being on a secret base where no one would bother her seemed like a pretty good place to hole up. And if Tony was going to be there. He wasn't Gibbs, but in some ways, Gibbs wasn't Tony.

Abby tried to picture working at NCIS for the next few months, without Kate and Tony. Even Gerald was gone. Would Gibbs and Ducky and Tim be enough? Or would she decide six months from now that she wanted a change anyway, once it was too late to follow Tony?

"I don't expect an answer right now," Director Morrow broke through her thoughts. Abby liked that about him; that he'd give you time to think through things if you needed it. Madam Director was always hovering with a "Well?" when she wanted answers, regardless of how much time you needed to get them. Gibbs might do that too, but at least he understood that her babies couldn't be rushed, unlike some people.

"I've got a basic job description here for you, as well as a brief note about the very large NDA you'd need to sign," he continued. "It looks like I'll need at least two forensics experts, so your recommendations would be invaluable whether or not you intended to be one of them. I also know that you have experience with advanced cyber operations, and we could use recommendations in that field as well. We're not limiting our search to NCIS personnel, but also those serving with other military investigative services, other federal agencies, and even civilians like yourself who might be brought on board as you once were. I'm attempting not to gut NCIS, especially the MCRT, as I form this new unit," he added with a smile.

"I understand, Sir, thank you," Abby accepted the papers.

"My contact said I could feel free to give you his name if it would help make your decision, or if you wanted to talk to him about the details he knows, but I have the impression that I don't need to actually say his name, do I?" Director Morrow chuckled.

"No, Sir," Abby agreed. "Though I might need to punish him for holding out on me," she growled teasingly.

"Hey now, classified is classified!" A voice said from behind her.

"Tony!" Abby jumped up and glomped on him. She noticed him holding a large carryout bag and a handled cup caddy full of drinks as she did so. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Hey, I just stopped in to get lunch," Tony laughed, holding up his hands — and thus the bag and drinks — defensively. "I had no idea that this was where, or when, you were meeting. I happened to see you on my way out, and thought I'd just say hello. I couldn't help but overhear the last few sentences."

"I did notice you come in, but you didn't seem to spot us until you were waiting for your order," Director Morrow agreed. "I should have remembered how popular this location is when I chose it for its proximity to the Yard."

"Just be glad that Gibbs sent me on the lunch run," Tony replied cheerfully, "so he wasn't the one to come see you trying to poach his favorite forensics tech."

"I think I can handle one last blow up from Gibbs," Director Morrow said firmly. "I'm already going to have him storming my office once Director Shepard tells him who is stealing his Senior Field Agent. Might as well be hanged for the goose as for the gander," he concluded with a chuckle.

"That's true," Tony agreed.

Abby finally sat back down in her chair. "So, you, Mister, owe me an explanation," she said sternly.

Tony's eyes danced with laughter and a happiness that was unfortunately all too rare for him. Abby found herself smiling back, despite her resolve to be annoyed. "I shall tell you all I can, my fair maiden, as soon as I've got some time. You could help by finding the evidentiary connections to get this case wrapped up quickly so we can all go home." Here was further proof of his good mood, if he was willing to play the high handed word game with her.

"Despite your unwavering belief in my forensic prowess, I can't find what isn't there," Abby reminded him in the same tone. Then she grinned. "Maybe you could help by finding a lead?"

Director Morrow laughed. "Well, on that note, I think I'll leave you to it. Miss Scuito, you have the documents, and you may contact either myself or Agent DiNozzo with any questions. We are working with a bit of a time crunch, however, so if you are definitely saying 'no', I'd like to know by tomorrow, so I won't mention you at my meeting with Director Shepard. If it is a maybe, you have until Monday to confirm either way."

"Yes, Sir," Abby agreed quickly. She wasn't surprised that Tony had given his 'yes' so quickly, if his Daniel really was on the other side of that NDA.

Director Morrow left, and Abby ate the last few bites of her sandwich and slugged back the dredges of her soda. Then she grabbed the drink caddy from Tony, looped her free arm through Tony's newly free one, and let him escort her back.

"You should have told me," she said, laying her head on his shoulder once they were clear of the crowded doorway and onto the quieter sidewalk.

"I've been a bit in shock, and then in triage mode," Tony admitted. "But I knew Morrow was meeting with you sooner rather than later, so I was going to see if I could catch up with you tonight. I told him he could name drop me, but I didn't want you to think I was trying to influence you beforehand or anything."

"The day you were all panicky?" Abby asked.

"Morrow came in first thing in the morning, while Gibbs was getting his coffee," Tony confessed. "Told me he had a job offer and that he was going to ask for me anyway, but once he got a little more information, he was insisting I hear him out. Dropped his hand right on my wrist," Tony lifted his far arm slightly, drawing her attention to the standard band that covered it and was currently supporting the weight of the plastic bag holding the team's lunches. "I mean, how could I say no to that?"

"Did you?" Abby couldn't think of another reason for him to panic like that, but then be fine the next day.

"Not in so many words," and she could hear the self-recrimination in his tone. "I asked for time to think about it. He left and about twenty minutes later I was convinced that I'd blown my chance."

"Oh, Tony," Abby squeezed his arm.

"Yeah, well I tried to bury myself in the cases, and then raced home and tried to distract myself with movies. I was at his office about an hour before he was, the next morning. Made me feel like an idiot for doubting that he'd give me the three full days to decide without pulling the rug out from under my feet."

"I'm sure he understood," Abby disagreed. She knew from her own snooping that Director Morrow was married to his own soulmate; he was sure to understand what Tony had been going through.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Since then, though… they've basically been trying to do their own investigations without any of the right people or equipment. It sounds like a bit of a madhouse over there. They're so very top secret that we don't even think JAG was read in either. Morrow's taking advantage of my classes in building a precinct or resident unit; I actually reached out to one of my old professors this morning and she's going to go over the details with me this weekend. I got the impression that the base is the kind of super secret black site that's the pet project of someone at the top of the food chain. If we prove they need it, and say we want it, they'll be jumping to comply."

"Does that apply to people, or supplies?" Abby wondered. If Tony said he needed a forensics expert, would they have someone they preferred? Maybe someone working for a government contractor at some different black site?

"Both," Tony shrugged. "But Morrow is in charge of creating this unit, since he's the one who first recognized the need for it. And since he, in his own words, was handed NCIS fully formed, and wasn't hands-on involved with the creation of the various new units, he's basically putting it in my hands. Anything I tell him I need, and he'll get it."

"And you need me," Abby said quietly.

Tony stopped, disentangled their arms, and then draped his back around Abby's shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug. "Of course I need you. I'll always need you, Abs. But I wasn't sure… From the hints I've gotten, I don't even think we'll be in America. You've got family down in New Orleans that I'm sure you'd like to see more than once a year, or however often we'll get leave. You've got friends here. You've got Gibbs. I'm not going to drag you off to some black site just because my soulmate is there, without it being your decision. Even if that means I'm stuck with only the second best forensics expert in the business."

Abby sniffled, but refrained from punching his arm for that. "You think we can teach Gibbs how to skype?" she asked.

"Well, we've taught him how to check his email," Tony said, "so maybe. I think we'll have better luck getting the Probie to set it up for him, though."

"That's true," Abby agreed.

"Though if I don't get him his lunch soon, he might kill me, and then it'll all be a moot point anyway," Tony joked.

Abby sniffled again, then laughed, and let him go. As they set off at a brisker pace back to the office, she said. "So, do I just call Director Morrow at Homeland to give him my answer?"

"Abby—" Tony cut himself off.

"Yes, Tony, I've got family, but I mostly email or skype them anyways. I don't get a lot of time off at NCIS, as you well know. Gibbs always threw a fit and made the other techs pee their pants, so I always postponed my vacation whenever he had an important case. And with Gibbs—"

"—all cases are important," Tony finished with her.

"Yeah, and yes Timmy and Gibbs and Ducky are here, but I can email them, just like I email Gerald and Cassie and everyone else I know who has moved out of the Navy Yard. And we'll get Timmy to set up skype so that Gibbs and Ducky can check in on us from time to time. But I'm going with you, Tony. Some one's gotta make sure that Daniel's actually good enough for you, and to keep you from working yourself to exhaustion trying to live up to Gibbs's standards, and to help hold the parts when you're taking care of your baby."

Tony's face fell, and Abby realized what she'd said, but then he offered her a smile and a gentle hip check. "We've still got to complete the first total inspection of the new Mustang," he said. Abby had helped him pick it out, once he was well enough to walk around. Tony hadn't had time to replace his Corvette before he ended up with the plague, and once he'd finally been released from the hospital, he'd spent most of his time either at Abby and Kate's apartment, or with Abby at his own. One of the ways she'd kept him distracted during the day when she had to work was by having him look for a new car.

The Mustang, once they'd found it, was over in Nashville — a twelve hour drive. They'd gone together over the weekend, taking turns driving his rental out there Friday night and Saturday morning, inspecting the Mustang Saturday afternoon, and then taking turns driving back on Sunday. Abby had been exhausted at work that Monday, but it was worth it for the way Tony smiled as he drove his new baby. Abby had always been his assistant when he did regular maintenance on his Corvette, and he'd promised that she could help when he did a thorough inspection of the new Mustang's engine.

"It's selfish, but I'm glad you're coming with me," Tony admitted quietly once they were alone in the elevator.

"It's selfish, but I'm glad you wanted me to," Abby confessed right back.

They traded knowing smiles just as the elevator doors opened on the bullpen.

"What took you so long?" Gibbs demanded as Tony strode towards his desk.

"Long line," Tony said easily. "But I ran into Abby, who helped me carry the drinks back."

"And in return, he owes me my next Caf-Pow," Abby joked, as she handed out the drinks. Gibbs's coffee was obvious, but she had to check the little tabs to differentiate Timmy's diet Coke from Tony's Dr. Pepper.

"You get anything yet?" Gibbs demanded of her.

"Gibbs! I know I've told you that my HPL Chromatograph takes at least two hours to complete, and you gave me those samples only…" she checked her watch, "eighty-five minutes ago!"

"Which is why I'm scheduled to bring a Caf-Pow down in thirty-five minutes to get the results," Tony said smoothly.

"And I'll be waiting, Mister," Abby declared, before giving Tony a quick peck on the cheek. As she headed back towards the elevators, she heard Gibbs growling at Timmy about the progress he'd made on their partial license plate.

She would miss this, she knew, but she'd also been wondering, the last few weeks, if NCIS was still the place for her. Given the chance to continue doing what she loved, working with Tony, and under her old Director, a change in location wasn't that big a deal. Yes, she'd miss Gibbs, but she'd told Tony the truth about staying in contact with him. And maybe wherever they went, she wouldn't keep seeing Kate around every corner, or hear her bantering with Tony and Timmy every time she walked past the bullpen. Maybe somewhere else would be better.

As soon as she reached her lab, Abby looked up Director Morrow's new number at Homeland Security. It only took a few rings before he answered, and she took a deep breath. "Director Morrow, this is Abby Scuito. I'm in."

"I realize that I was brought in through Homeland, and not NCIS specifically," Tom began, "but with my particular background, I can't help but see this apparent hole in your structure." They were having an evening meeting, while DiNozzo was free from NCIS for an hour for dinner, but before O'Neill and Davis left the Mountain for the day. Those two were conferencing in on video, while Hammond and DiNozzo joined Tom in his office. DiNozzo had just finished signing his NDA and had a few minutes to freak out about the alien situation before they got started.

"And we appreciate your viewpoint in this instance," Hammond assured him. "We had only just started to read the Air Force Office of Special Investigations in this past year, but, well let's just say that it didn't go well."

"How so, if I may ask?" Tom prodded. If whatever stumbling block they had run into would also be a problem for NCIS agents, he wanted to know about it sooner rather than later.

"There was a specific issue we needed handled, and it was recommended that we read in OSI," Hammond explained. "When I told General Bullard that I needed a man for a highly classified operation, he recommended Colonel Richard Kendrick. There was a bit of a personality clash—"

"The guy had a stick up his butt!" O'Neill interrupted.

"And things didn't go well," Hammond continued diplomatically. "In fact, we ran into a bit of luck. There was a local police officer who had been read into the program because he stumbled into an incident while he was dating Major Carter. He helped her solve the case, and we were able to release Colonel Kendrick back to his old post," he concluded cheerfully.

Tom knew he was staring. He knew it, and yet he couldn't help himself. He was suddenly grateful that DiNozzo was here, because he wasn't sure if he could formulate an appropriate response.

"May I be blunt, Generals?" DiNozzo did not disappoint.

"Go for it," O'Neill said sarcastically.

"I need you two to look at this from an outsider's perspective, Sirs," DiNozzo said respectfully. "I haven't spent much time as an Agent Afloat myself, but my two week training stint was enough to give me the picture, and I've spoken to other agents who confirmed my impressions. When you go Afloat, you're on a ship with — on a carrier — a few thousand people, and you're the only cop in sight. You're supposed to have secure facilities, but technically the Captain of the vessel can go where he pleases. You're supposed to report back home to your own chain of command, but in practice the Captain is also in charge of you. It's like being the only guard in a prison with a few thousand inmates, and the inmates have copies of all the keys."

"That sounds… stressful," O'Neill said, while Hammond nodded. Tom waited, guessing where this was going.

"Here's where you come in," DiNozzo continued. "Now imagine you're that Agent — the only cop in the prison — and you're told that you can't even tell your commanding officer what's happening in that prison, because he isn't read in. Also, this prison has been operating for about a decade and you've got to catch up on years of information. With no help, and no way to convince your superiors that you need help. Oh, and there are freaking aliens banging down the gates! I don't know your Colonel, but if he did anything other than curl up in a ball in the corner weeping for a week like I want to right now, I'd say he was doing his damned best. Sirs," DiNozzo concluded.

"You're saying he was overwhelmed and might not have made the best impression because of it," Hammond said gracefully.

"Without knowing the exact nature of the disagreement," Tom jumped in; "I know you said that some people had a hard time adjusting to the idea of aliens. It's possible that this agent wasn't the right fit for you because of that. You said General Bullard recommended him, but was Bullard read into the program at the time? He might have recommended someone who could handle tough commands, or war zones, without realizing that he needed someone with that particular brand of open-mindedness that the Stargate revelation requires."

"That's a fine point," Hammond conceded. "I'll make sure Terry's read into the program before I get any more recommendations from him."

"Sir, if I may," DiNozzo piped up. "Regardless of what you tell the General, you might already have the resource you need."

"How's that?" O'Neill asked.

"Well, while he might not have been the best fit to be the feet on the ground liaison between the SGC and OSI, you now have a Colonel who is read into the program. I am going to have a heck of a time submitting reports back to NCIS headquarters explaining what my people are doing without mentioning aliens and whatnot. But our OSI people won't have that issue if you have them reporting to this Colonel Kendrick. If he's my official OSI contact, then I can just send him everything and it can be his problem deciding what to file in a — proverbial — black hole, what to redact and release, and what to send to those in the know higher up."

"You'd save me and whatever Air Force agents I end up with boatloads of time and effort if we can pass the buck to him. He might also have recommendations for you — he probably knows he didn't handle the revelation well, and I'm sure he's just as aware of the personality clash. If you convince him that it's in his best interests to send us people who will work well with the SGC, and promise that he can stay safe in his office away from the insane asylum he's probably pegged you as, he'll probably streamline our hiring process too…"

"I like this one!" O'Neill declared brightly.

"I'll take all your recommendations under advisement," Hammond said, and though Tom didn't have much experience with the General, he was fairly certain that DiNozzo's reasoning had impressed him. "Now, I take it from what you've said, that it would benefit you to have someone higher up at NCIS read into the program as well?"

DiNozzo tilted his head in thought for a moment, "Yes Sir, with a caveat. We're only able to make so much progress because Deputy Director Morrow has the inside track at NCIS. In practice, I don't report to him at all since he's moved to Homeland. I report to Director Shepard. In theory, I'd suggest reading her into the program. However, whether she's read in or not, she's just taken over a major federal agency, and she doesn't have the time to be sorting through all my reports either. That would be like us forwarding all of our OSI paperwork directly to General Bullard, instead of using Colonel Kendricks as a middle man."

"Essentially, you need your own middle man," Davis piped up.

"Exactly!" DiNozzo agreed. "Our reports should be routed through a Deputy Director or at least an SAC, who would perform the same job I suggested for Kedricks; passing on pertinent information and locking up the rest where the sun doesn't shine. Things are a little squirrely because I'm coming from the Washington Office, where Shepard is based, so she's my de facto Deputy Director and SAC all in one. If you want to base the SGC Investigative branch out of DC, then we might need to find someone to be our middle man around here. However, if we're based out of Colorado then we'd fall under the purview of the Marine West Offices out of Camp Pendleton. Actually, Nevada would answer to the same Office, for our Area 51 staff. In that instance, I'd consider reading in someone out of that office — Director Morrow would have insight as to who would take the news better and have the time to deal with us: the Deputy Director or the SAC."

"Those are excellent points, and I can certainly look at who's available for that office," Tom easily agreed. "You're right that we need to align ourselves with the Office that would actually supervise the base. I've been basing everything in DC because that's where I was stationed with NCIS, but the Marine West Offices would actually serve our physical locations. I'll need to arrange for the creation of a new Base — no, I won't, will I. What base are you listing for the Marines under your command? Those bases should already be on the register. I just need to establish a Resident Unit at those bases. Technically NCIS would be in charge of staffing the Unit, but with the nature of the Stargate program, I can pick my own people."

At a glance from Hammond, Davis quickly said, "I'll get you that information right away, Sir."

"One other thing?" DiNozzo said. When everyone turned to him, he continued. "You said you read in a local cop? And he took the news well enough to help with an investigation?"

"Yes," O'Neill said warily. Tom had missed that, in all the kerfuffle about AFOSI, but they had mentioned that.

"Well then he's already read into the program, and that's the hard part. All we need to do is see if he wants to become an NCIS agent, — or OSI, I suppose — send him through FLETC, and he'll be ready to join one of our teams." DiNozzo said.

"Can we have someone speak to him about that?" Tom asked. If the man was at all interested in joining a Federal Agency, they could have just found a valuable addition.

"The, uh, relationship… ended," O'Neill said awkwardly.

"Well, as long as he handled it well, and isn't walking around telling everyone about the program, I don't think that'll be a problem," DiNozzo said easily. "We're looking at two bases as well as several ship positions and maybe Atlantis: I doubt it'll be hard to station him somewhere where his former partner isn't. Honestly speaking, as long as he's not a complete idiot, I want him. Even if he doesn't have the chops to be an agent — which it sounds like he does, since you said he helped with an investigation — he could coordinate our MPs or be a liaison to the locals. I'll find a place for him, if he'll have us."

"Jack, make it happen," Hammond told O'Neill.

O'Neill just turned his gaze to Davis beside him, who nodded and said, "Yes, Sir."

"If it'll help, you can have him contact me," DiNozzo offered. "I was a cop before joining NCIS, so I've got a similar background as him."

"I'll give him your information and vice versa," Davis promised.

"Now, tell me about these spaceships," Tom said to Hammond. "The battlecruisers. How many hands on each one?"

"Our first design, the BC-303, had a little over 100 people on the crew. The new 304s will have about 200 crewmembers." Hammond explained.

Tom shared a look with DiNozzo, who nodded. "That's big enough that I'd say each one needs an Agent," Tom explained. "How many are you planning to have?"

"We've got two built, with plans for another four at minimum," Hammond said.

"Two agents to start with, plus four," DiNozzo murmured. "The bigger ones will need JAG too. Burley?"

Tom nodded. "And perhaps one of the OSI agents for the other. They'll need special training…"

"For the others, maybe rotate them through the Antarctic Outpost first?" DiNozzo suggested. "You've got McMurdo nearby for backup, but it would give them a taste of flying solo, because of the classified nature. Not to mention being cold, dark, and isolated, just like space." For some reason that made O'Neill grin.

"Anything else?" Tom asked.

"Not that I can think of right now," DiNozzo admitted with a shrug.

"Alright," Tom said. "I'll need the contact information for the OSI Colonel, and might as well send it to DiNozzo too, until I get things squared away at the Camp Pendleton Office." Davis nodded. "I believe DiNozzo passed on Gloria's layout plans for Levels 16 and 17?" Tom continued. Gloria was another of DiNozzo's recommendations. She had been one of his professors before, and now taught unit creation at Quantico. She had gone over their space requirements and unit size and helped lay out everything they would need at the SGC.

David nodded again. "Yes, and our supply sergeant is getting right on it. We'll have the blueprints for your section of Area 51 sent over right away so that you can get them configured." DiNozzo nodded his thanks; now that they had Gloria's master plan, he was going to create the second space himself.

"I think that's everything for today, then," Tom decided.

The Generals quickly said their goodbyes and signed off, and Tom turned to look at DiNozzo once he had shut down the video link and Hammond had taken his leave. "Has Director Shepard said anything about your new assignment?" he asked.

"No, Sir, but I've had some odd conversations with her. She's talked about where I see myself going at NCIS, and my undercover experience. She suggested that most SFAs get their own team after three or so years, implying that I'm past due, I guess. But several of the SFAs I know have had their spots for five years or more, so that seemed strange. I think she might have wanted to put me somewhere, or maybe use me undercover, but your job's screwed that up. I can't tell if she's trying to get me to refuse the transfer or what." he shrugged. "She hasn't outright given me a different assignment, or even told me that yours is coming, but I've very much gotten the impression that, when she does eventually pass it on, she won't be happy about it."

Tom frowned. "Well, if she does raise a fuss when I come to collect my team, I'll put in a few calls. I know that SECDEF and SECNAV are both read in on the Stargate, and they'll back my request. I know we don't have everything set up at the Mountain or in Nevada yet, but I wonder if we shouldn't pull all of you to Camp Pendleton sooner rather than later. It would make it harder for you and I to meet in person, but that isn't necessarily a problem."

"If we knew we were being reassigned, it would give us time to pack and move, too," DiNozzo pointed out. "Instead of waiting until the SGC is ready for us and then scrambling to get into place. If we knew that we were going out of state, and needed to have everything packed up, it would help us get a running start."

"And also take you out of play for whatever Jenny's planning," Tom agreed. "Alright, I'll talk to Camp Pendleton this afternoon, and see if we can make your transfers official tomorrow morning. I was thinking of waiting until we had our AFOSI people in place too, but it might be better to move each person as soon as we're able, instead of waiting for the fait accompli."

"Yesir," DiNozzo agreed. "At the least, we can pack up DC, even if we're warned that we don't have a specific place to go to just yet."

"Alright," Tom said, waving him off, "I know you need to actually get dinner before you run back to Gibbs."

DiNozzo smirked. "Thank you, Sir. At least you recognize our need for things like sustenance and sleep. You know," he added as he rose, "I always used to joke that Gibbs was a robot, but now that I know aliens are real… you don't think?"

Tom chuckled, but it was a good question. If he hadn't known the man for so long, he might have wondered too.

Chapter Text

Tony dropped his and Cassie's go bags in the corner of the conference room at Camp Pendleton, where he and his team would be setting up shop until they had real work spaces. Officially, none of them knew where they would be forwarding their belongings to yet, because they were being read into the program today, but Tony was the exception, so he had met his moving truck in Colorado Springs yesterday and seen all of his things put into temporary storage before catching a transport flight to San Diego. Cassie Yates had also had a heads up, as her fiance had already been transferred to the SGC, so Tony had given her the name of his storage company, and they had gotten units side by side. She had volunteered to do the coffee run now while he brought the bags in.

Before Tony could do more than note the white board and U-shaped table configuration, Major Davis entered with a little rolling cart stacked full of thick envelopes on the bottom and thicker folders on the top shelf. "Okay, thank goodness for that cart," Tony joked. "Are they trying to give you a hernia?"

Davis, who had a wicked sense of humor when not around people of higher rank, Tony had learned, groaned theatrically. "Some days I think they are. Other days I think the General is just trying to make me snap."

"He'd probably laugh as you strangled him," Tony noted. O'Neill did have an odd sense of humor, and Tony had already noticed him making jabs at Davis.

"He would," Davis confirmed.

The door opened again, and they were joined by Paula Cassidy and Ned Dornegut. Tony jabbed his thumb towards the small go-bag pile he'd created in the corner, and they dumped theirs before grabbing seats. Just as Tony was about to introduce them to Davis, the door opened once again. Gerald smiled at the sight of Tony, as did Jivin Haldar, though Tony didn't know the woman behind him. Since Tony had a 'Sana Haldar — Evidence Technician, FBI' on his list, and Jivin was carrying both their bags, he made the leap that she was his wife. Tony hadn't realized that she was also part of the Alphabet soup, but it made sense that Tom Morrow had poached them as a pair. He would never turn down a trained evidence tech.

They had just dropped their bags when Jace Miller and his wife Pamela entered. Because it was at the forefront of his mind, Tony noticed that neither couple were wearing wrist bands; they were soulmate pairs. Cassie had also confessed during their rocky transport ride that she and Lily would be getting married as soon as they got settled, though Lily would still wear her wrist band in the field. In practice, Tony knew, he and Cassie probably would as well, since they were Federal Agents.

The Millers were followed by Cassie and Stan Burley. "Guess who I found!" Cassie said, handing Tony his coffee. Her smirk told Tony that she wasn't talking about Stan. The others were exchanging greetings and grabbing seats when the door shot open.

Tony had two clomps of warning before Abby threw her arms around him from behind. "Tonyyyy"! she cried.

"Hey Abs," Tony twisted his arms around her and tugged so that she was tucked into his side instead of against his back. "I'm glad you decided to come with me," he whispered.

"How else am I gonna meet your cutie?" she whispered back, squeezing him tightly. She was the only one Tony had told about Daniel, back when they became friends. Abby was also the only one who knew that Daniel was working at their future base. She and Tony had had a long talk about everything — except aliens — before she fully accepted the position.

"We don't know he'll be a cutie," Tony replied softly, pushing back his nervousness about the approaching meeting. A woman he vaguely recognized but didn't know the name of entered; he'd match her to his list once everyone was there.

"Aw, of course he will be," Abby assured him. Then she gave him one more squeeze and released him, only to pounce onto Gerald, who was in the closest chair. "Gerald!" she cried. Tony was sure that almost everyone in the room was going to be subjected to an Abby-hug before the day was over.

Derek and Penelope Morgan entered next, along with Bethany, and Tony was kept busy greeting them as well. Two men he didn't know entered, but one of them knew Penny, and one seemed to know Stan, so Tony assumed they were on his list. Then Cynthia arrived, much to Tony's relief. Last he heard, she wasn't sure she was coming, and once Director Morrow had explained what he intended her to do, Tony didn't think he could live without her. A woman and man in Air Force blues were next, followed by another set in plain clothes, one more Air Force officer, and finally Tony's contact at Pendleton — SAC James Matthews, Naval Commander, escorted in two familiar faces from JAG before closing the door.

Tony was surprised to see Harm and Mac there, but he got the sudden sinking feeling that maybe JAG hadn't been as read in as he had assumed. If Admiral Chegwidden was sending in his best attack dogs, he must be intending to sick them on someone. Matthews had a large stack of manila folders under his arm, which he set on the table in front of him. A glance at the top told Tony they were the duty assignments for his people.

Matthews nodded at Tony, and he grabbed his notepad and stepped to the front of the room, beside Paul Davis. "Okay, I know most of you, so for the names I don't, I want to make sure everyone belongs here," Tony began. "Delores Bromstead?" the woman he vaguely recognized from the Yard raised her hand. "Great. Then I assume that makes you Dr. Susan Perkins, our ME?" Tony pointed at the other civilian female he didn't know. When she nodded, he turned to the female Air Force officer. "And you'd be Captain Zoe Perez with AFOSI?" That got him another nod.

"Excellent. Alright, so I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you're my Major Adam Michaelson—" Tony pointed at the Air Force officer with an oak leaf on his uniform. "— and you're my Colonel Richard Kendrick?" he pointed at the one with the eagle insignia. When both men nodded in turn, he grinned. "Say what you want, but the insignia can be helpful," he joked. Perez and Michaelson gave him small smiles, but Kendrick just frowned slightly. Well, O'Neill had already noted that he didn't really have a sense of humor.

"Which leaves me with Agent Sam Hanna?" Tony continued down his list, and made a check when the large black man who had greeted Stan raised his hand, "Dr. Zane Donovan?" That was the young guy with the spiky hair who knew Penny. "Which means the last one is my Dr. Jack Hodgins?"

"That's me!" the last, curly-haired, man replied cheerfully.

"Great. Then you're all supposed to be here," Tony mimed wiping sweat from his brow. "For those who don't know me, I'm Special Agent in Charge Tony DiNozzo and for most of you I'm your new boss." he smiled brightly around the room. "We are being assigned to a joint Air Force/Marine base, so we'll have a joint NCIS/AFOSI operation. For those of you not caught up on your acronyms, those are Naval Criminal Investigative Services — though we do love our Marines too — and Air Force Office of Special Investigations. Colonel Kendrick," Tony pointed and the man rose and nodded, "is our AFOSI liaison, and he's the person my OSI folks will want to talk to if they need to go over my head. And Commander James Matthews here," Tony pointed at him and he also rose and nodded, "is our NCIS liaison, for when that gang wants to go over my head. FBI Agents and civilians being brought in especially for this operation, pick your favorite!"

That got Tony a round of chuckles and another disgruntled frown from Kendrick, so Tony thought it was going very well. "In all seriousness, Kendrick is based out of Denver, while Matthews is the SAC here at Pendleton. In the event of an emergency where I am unreachable, please do your best to reach whichever of them you're physically closest to first, then the other one, and then hit up Deputy Director Morrow of Homeland before you attempt to go back into your usual chain of command. The reason for that unusual command structure will all be made clear once Major Davis is done with you. Davis, the show's yours!" Tony declared. He slipped around the horseshoe-shaped conference tables and back to the seat Abby had saved for him between herself and Gerald. Cassie leaned over her to hand him his coffee — Tony didn't even know when he'd set it down — and he sipped it gratefully.

As Davis started in on his "can't tell anyone on pain of treason and Gitmo" spiel, Tony watched the others' faces. Matthews had been read in the day before, and Kendrick already knew, but for everyone else this was going to be a surprise. Giant NDAs had been foretold, so no one was completely blindsided, and everyone had already basically agreed to the job, but he was excited to see their reactions to what came next.

Finally, Davis concluded. "With that warning, this is your last chance to leave. If you choose to stay, you will be given an NDA and a one year employment contract. If you sign one, you must sign the other. At the end of the year, you'll have the option to renew your contract for up to five years at a time, provided you are in good standing with your supervisors." Again, that part hadn't been a surprise, and in principle they had all already agreed to sign both. Or, at least, the people that Tony and Tom had talked to had agreed, and he couldn't imagine it would be different with the others.

When no one jumped to their feet to flee, Davis sighed and began handing out the NDA folders. Tony took the chance to jump up and lend a hand — seriously, who makes a three inch NDA? The number of trees that the Stargate program alone killed… it was the kind of thing that made tree-huggers like Abby weep. Still, Tony didn't want Davis throwing out his back, so he chipped in. Once everyone had a folder and had started reading it, Tony dragged his chair around to the front of the room so he could see the reactions.

It took almost half an hour for the first person to get through the boilerplate beginning and onto the good stuff. Unsurprisingly, as the only two in the room who were used to reading legalese, Harm and Mac were the first. Tony heard Mac gasp just as Harm reared back. Tony met his eyes and nodded sympathetically, then did the same when Mac looked up a moment later. "Oh yeah," he assured them. "But keep going. It gets better."

"Jesus," Mac muttered, but they both turned back to their forms.

About ten minutes later, Donovan and Hodgins hit the first mention of aliens, one right after the other. The former laughed, while the latter hissed "I knew it!", making Donovan laugh again.

Perkins and Gerald were a few minutes behind them, and then Abby shrieked. Tony had been watching her, ready to jump to his feet, and as soon as she did he lunged forward and gently clapped his hand over her mouth. "Yes, Abs. For reals. Just like you thought. But let everyone else get to the—"

"Oh my God!" Penny hissed gleefully, interrupting him.

"Ladies, let everyone have the fun reveal," Tony admonished gently, then pulled back so he wasn't holding Abby quiet anymore. They both gave him matching 'you're explaining this later, Mister' looks, which he hoped would be circumvented by Davis's upcoming talk. Once he'd been read in, one of Tony's first thoughts was to be extremely grateful that Abby came with him. If she had ever learned down the line that he found out that aliens were real and he hadn't told her right away? NDA or no, she'd've killed him.

The rest of the group hit the high point in short order, as those who were slower readers or unused to such legal mumbo-jumbo caught up, but finally everyone had gotten through the big reveal and was now toiling through the second half of the stack.

Now that the fun was over, Tony kicked his feet up on the empty cart and started playing games on his phone. He muted the sound, as a courtesy, but he still got a dirty look from Kendrick, and amused smirks from Davis and Matthews.

Finally, the two lawyers finished reading and signing. They didn't have employment contracts, as they were remaining with JAG HQ and simply becoming the first to be read into the program, after the Admiral. Tony guessed that they'd split up and spend a week or so at the Mountain and Area 51, making sure that their facilities and policies were all legal and above board. There was probably going to be a longer list compiled soon of lawyers and judges they could call for warrants and representation, plus those JAGs who would be assigned to the Program, but that was something that they would work out with the Admiral — and probably Air Force JAG — and just hand Tony the finished product.

Finally, the others began to catch up, and Davis started bustling around, retrieving folders, checking signatures, and stacking everything back on the cart. Tony finally moved his feet once he couldn't avoid it any longer, and started drawing up plans on the white board — on the side facing away from the group — instead.

Eventually, Davis placed the last folder on the cart with a bit of thump for emphasis and said, "they're all yours."

"Oh no, you get to give them the 'the truth is out there' spiel before they become mine," Tony reminded him. "They're still yours for that."

Davis faked a put upon sigh, then turned back to the group. Tony suspected that if Kendrick hadn't been there, he would have been more snarky in his approach, but the Colonel outranked him, triggering his ingrained deferential attitude. Tony didn't have enough data yet to figure if he would be just as reserved when around only the Naval and Marine Brass. Instead, Davis briskly and efficiently detailed the origins of the Stargate program, the basic rundown of their mandate, and the primary locations they operated in, before turning to Tony and giving him an 'all yours' wave.

"Yeah yeah," Tony joked as Davis retreated to a chair. "So, as you've heard, this program has been going for almost a decade, and other than one minor incident where they decided they really had to read in OSI last year, they've basically been doing their own thing. Most of you are investigators or have worked with investigators before, so I'm sure you've got an idea why that is pretty damn insane." He could see that most of the agents agreed, and so did their support staff. Kendrick even looked somewhat smug, as though appeased at hearing his own earlier concerns repeated or agreed with. The JAG contingent were blatantly appalled.

"Now, you might be thinking, 'that's a long time to go without needing legal or investigative services,' and you're right. I'm reliably informed that one Master Sergeant Siler and the base second in command are fucking thrilled to finally stop having to do our jobs for us. That's where we come in. Major Davis already told you about the major areas of operation. Our Resident Unit is going to be based in Colorado, at the Cheyenne Mountain facility. Hence our close contact with Colonel Kendrick up in Denver."

"We are also going to have a team stationed at the Area 51 base in Nevada, closer to SAC Mathews here in California. Further away from home will be some people at a small outpost in Antarctica, and Agents Afloat will be assigned to the new battlecruisers in orbit. If all of that didn't melt your brain, you might have noticed the part about how we sent an expedition to the lost city of Atlantis in another galaxy and when we regain contact with them they'll be getting anything from an Agent Afloat to a team, depending on several factors." Tony flipped the white board around and pointed to the duty stations he had drawn on it as he detailed them.

"Now, in addition to being the Special Agent in Charge for all Stargate Command Units, I'm going to be leading the first response team at Cheyenne. Because of that, Cynthia Summer here is going to be my executive assistant, and handle a lot of the office parts of the SAC job. She'll be the one coordinating with the folks back home—" he waved at Kendrick and Matthews, "and with mom and dad back at NCIS and AFOSI if needed." he pointed to Shepard and Bullard's names on the white board where he'd drawn the chain of command. "If you hear from Cynthia, you're hearing from me, so better listen up." Tony concluded.

"Now, we're still building these units, so some of the players are missing. Eventually, there will be two four-person teams at Cheyenne, and either one or two at Area 51, depending on the demand. At the moment, we don't have all those agents yet. What we do have is the Supervisory Special Agent for Team Alpha — me — and my Senior Field Agent, Perez. Our junior agents are to be determined." he pointed at their names and the two blank lines below them under the little picture he'd drawn of the mountain. "We've also got Team Bravo, led by Major Michaelson, with Cassie Yates as SFA. Again, baby agents TBD. At the moment, for all practical purposes, we'll work both as two two-man partnerships, and also together as a four-man team if needed. Matthews and Kendrick are running priority on filling in the blanks, and in a perfect world we'll get an even split of NCIS and OSI on each team. In practice, since we're also pulling people from places like the FBI, those lines will be a little more fluid, and I'm hopeful that we can gel into a single cohesive group.'"

"Over at Area 51," Tony said, shifting to the little hangar he'd drawn, "Team Charlie will be led by Paula Cassidy, Air Force SFA to be determined. Dorneget from NCIS will be one of your juniors, the other TBD, but I think we've got the guy. If needed, we'll make a Team Delta, with an OSI leader. At some point Derek may or may not join one of those teams. Clear so far?" There were general nods and murmurs of assent around the table, so Tony continued.

"There's also been one reported case of Arson at Area 51, and apparently half of the tech there is capable of blowing up if you look at it funny. Not to mention most of those science geeks don't even need to google the Anarchist's Cookbook to come up with ways to sabotage each other that go boom. Derek, you'll be working with an EOD specialist on loan from somewhere redacted who apparently has experience with this kind of sciencey stuff to give me a risk assessment and work on some simulations, precautions, and contingency plans. That kind of thing. You might create our own special EOD/Bomb squad, if you think there's a real need. Apparently the Mountain sends bombs through the stargate all the time, but doesn't need to defuse them that often, so the EOD duties there are kinda one-sided. Working with them is your second priority. Your third priority I'll discuss with you later." Morgan nodded, so Tony turned back to the white board.

"Now I know I skipped some agents, so bear with me. Cheyenne will be the head duty station of our Unit, from a support staff perspective. Our head of Forensics, Abby Scuito, will be based there. Our second forensic scientist, Dr. Hodgins, will be at Area 51. I'm reliably informed that we're getting you the best equipment out there, and the labs are brand new, so everything still has that new spectrometer smell." Abby giggled and Hodgins smiled at that. "On another note, legal is still a work in progress, and while we're classified all to hell, I want everyone to fill out your paperwork as though it was going to court. Follow the law, be careful with the chain of custody, yada yada yada, and I'll let you know about warrants and prosecution and such ASAP."

"Now, head of our Cyber department is Jace Miller, with Pamela Miller as our Sysadmin, which I have been assured is very important. Those two will be based at the Mountain, but will probably do some set up in Nevada. Nevada is apparently the brain trust for the SGC, so Penny and Donovan will be there. I trust you two to not only handle data and tech analyst work for us, but also to understand what the heck the brain trust are saying and doing. I also trust the four of you to tell me what you need from me, in terms of equipment and programing, but also people and specialists, if we need more than you can reasonably do. Just because you can wear three different hats doesn't mean you have the time for it, so let me know if you need others to fill out the roster. If the Brass are willing to throw money and people at us, let's take advantage and do it right!" he got nods from all four of them, so continued on.

"From what I've been told, bodies aren't a common problem for Area 51, so we'll only have the one ME and assistant based out of the Mountain, but I've been assured you'll get a priority flight anywhere you need to go," Tony told them. "Furthermore, I've been told, most of the bodies at Stargate Command tend to be either actually alien, or sick with some kind of alien virus. Dr. Perkins, your genetics background, and Gerald, your pathology studies, are probably going to be needed more often than your ability to tell me time of death from a liver temp. That said, the regular docs at the SGC have been doing this for a while now, so you'll be working closely with them on all this. Again, if you know of a specialty we need, or a specialist you know about, let Cynthia know and we'll steal 'em." That got Tony a few chuckles, and he was glad that his people were responding to his relaxed attitude for the most part. In a world where aliens actually existed, there was no place for being uptight, in Tony's opinion.

"As for Evidence and Records," Tony nodded at Bethany and the Haldars, "we haven't filled out your departments yet. All of this kind of thing has apparently always been handled by MPs and whoever got drafted to help, so you'll still have those folks to help you. Paula, I'm keeping the three we've got so far with me, and you're top priority for new ones. At the moment, Jivin and Bethany you'll be my department heads. There may be some shuffling later, so don't fully unpack just yet, but we're kind of lagging in the support staff. Which brings us to you, Ms Bromstead."

"I have been confidentially informed that Civilian HR in the program is virtually non-existent, but Captain Connors will be yours to do whatever you wish with. You might have noticed in Major Davis's spiel that the SGC already employs a boat-load of civilian scientists and other specialists, and they've apparently been adrift at the Air Force's mercy all this time. Anything and anyone you need will be yours, as you'll be responsible for all the poor schmucks who came before us, as well as our Unit's civilians."

Tony smirked. "I've been told that you're the best, and that General O'Neill should fear you, which is all the reference I needed. You'll work with Cynthia, of course, and in practice both of you will become best friends with Paul Davis here, I'm sure," Tony declared, clapping the Major on his shoulder. That got him a pained smile in response, and Tony's grin widened. "You also will be based at the Mountain, but have priority travel to Nevada as needed. I don't even know if they have an HR person at the base there — I doubt it," he murmured. "—but Connors can probably tell you, and if such a person exists, they will also become your minion. Feel free to use whatever means necessary to whip them into shape!"

Tony looked over his whiteboard and then glanced back at his notepad. "And I think that's everyone except Stan and Sam?"

A glance around the room showed no one leaping up to say they had been overlooked, so Tony nodded. "You might have noticed a few other locations here, such as the Antarctic outpost," Tony pointed at the little icy fortress of solitude he'd drawn, "and the battlecruisers?" he pointed at his crude sketches of the Enterprise and the Death Star. Sam snorted, and Tony grinned. "You two will be running Team Echo, Burley as SSA and Hanna as SFA. On paper, Echo is based out of McMurdo, but in practice you'll be at the Outpost and Aloat on the battlecruisers."

"Now, for all intents and purposes, the Antarctic is like a little baby ship of its own. You're within helo distance of McMurdo Air Base, but the Stargate folks there are somewhat trapped. We're not sure if they even need a resident Agent. I've also been reliably informed that McMurdo's resident OSI agent would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to have noticed something strange going on, between all the scientists, the mysterious helo trips and alien tech, and the couple of emergencies when that tech has gone haywire. It's highly likely that he'll be read in, and either join us, or simply act as your knowing backup. Our OSI folks are ironing all that out."

"Then there are the cruisers, with one to two hundred souls onboard. Each of them we're treating like a ship, and they'll get an Agent Afloat. You two are charged with investigating Antarctica and making recommendations for what it needs, Investigator-wise. Word from on high is that we might treat it like an Afloat position more so than a unit, perhaps even like Baby's First Afloat, where they've got McMurdo as a safety net, before we toss 'em out into space. From what I've been told, it won't be entirely practical to be based solely at McMurdo, rather than the Outpost, but we might have you hole up at the Base and do something like fortnightly rotations to the Outpost, with the option to call in the calvary if something goes wrong."

"After you've looked it over and made your reports, you two will check out our first two Battlecruisers, starting with the newer, 304 model. If we can get things like brig, office, evidence lockup, etc, figured out for that quickly enough, they can build it into the new one that's in drydock before they get too far along. Once you've got a good system, you'll be looking at how to cram it into the smaller, older, 303 model. And, as I said, you two will then become Agents Afloat for those ships, if you're up for it. If you don't want to go Afloat, once you've finished the recommendation tour, we'll see about shifting things around in Nevada."

"OSI doesn't really do the Agent Afloat thing, so you'll be training your Air Force brethren once we acquire them, which is the main reason I want two of you to start. We'll also probably be sending JAG with each cruiser, so you'll be liaising with them onboard as well. Also, when we reconnect with Atlantis, one or both of you will be helping me decide on their Unit or Afloat needs and set up, and you two will get top priority for being assigned there. As I said, on paper, this will all be folded into McMurdo Team Echo, and the Afloat agents will report to that team leader instead of me directly. If we set up Atlantis as an Afloat position, they'll be folded under Echo, but likely report to me because we'll be connecting to them via the Stargate. If they are big enough to warrant their own team, we'll make them Foxtrot and take them out of your chain of command. Sound good?"

Both Hanna and Burly were looking eagerly at the white board, so Tony didn't think they'd have problems with the assignments. They were both smart, and ready for promotion, and this would be a good way for them to stretch their minds. Hanna had a wife and kids, though, so Tony and Morrow didn't think he'd want to take an Afloat position, and would ask for Nevada instead once this assignment was done. However, Tony needed Paula to head Area 51, and Derek didn't have the shipboard experience to bring to the task, so he and Morrow had agreed to send Hanna out temporarily.

When there were no objections, Tony clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Great! Well, now that you all have your duty stations, go forth and arrange to get all your crap to the right states! Major Davis has got very helpful packets…" Davis pulled three stacks of manila envelopes from the bottom of his cart labeled "CO," "NV," and "Other," and began passing them out. "You'll see your options for on-base housing, plus local storage units and realtors if you want to look off base. Everyone's entitled to on base berthing regardless, which you're welcome to take advantage of when working long hours or the like, but you're all also free to live off base. Sam and Stan, my man—s. You'll obviously be a little different, but I trust Davis to have you taken care of. The stack of files in front of Matthews has everyone's detailed assignments; grab the one with your name on it on your way out."

"You've all got three days before you report to base for intake, and another five before everyone officially starts the Monday after — a week from tomorrow. If you want to come in earlier to check in, you're welcome to. And if you're bored of unpacking, and want to get a head start going through the files of so-called investigations for the past decade, please dear god do so," he ended with feigned horror. "Cynthia and Delores, please hang on to talk to JAG and the Brass, oh, and Paula and Derek, hang back for a second. Bethany, Davis's got something for you. Everyone else, shoo!"

"We're having dinner together, right?" Abby said, bouncing up to Tony's side before anyone else could even move.

"Yeah. Cassie knows I've got a meeting later, so I put her in charge of finding us dinner that fits the time frame," Tony agreed. "Go on with her and text me what you find and I'll catch up." He suspected that several people on the team would be using this time to catch up or get to know the new folks. He also expected the NCIS gang to take the new OSI duo under their wings until they could add a few more of the Air Force gang. At the moment, Perez and Michaelson were grossly outnumbered.

Everyone else had gotten up and started milling around, save for those who were waiting to meet with him. Bethany bee-lined for Davis, who would be the one to tell her that she already had family in the program — they'd dug around and found that her scientist cousin in Nevada and her brother at Cheyenne Mountain didn't realize that they were both in the same program, so she'd be given the chance to connect them, and to stop at Area 51 on her way to Colorado if she wanted. Abby gave Tony a quick hug and then headed off to intercept Cassie.

Paula and Derek pushed their way to the front of the room quickly. "Hey guys," he greeted them. "About your probie, Paula. He's a cop in Colorado — Pete Shanahan — who was read into the program when he got serious with one of the Officers. They broke up, so we're not assigning him to the Mountain, where she is, but since he was already read in, I asked if he wanted to join NCIS. He's at FLETC in New Mexico right now, and when he finishes in six weeks he'll be yours. His information's in your packet, Paula, so you can contact him now and help with any questions and get a feel for him. I figured with Dornegut just out of training himself, he could help show him the ropes on a team. I'm making sure that whatever SFA you get from OSI, they're very experienced and a capable leader, so you won't be stuck with a full herd of greenhorns. The Brass doesn't think we'll need a full two teams in Nevada, but from what little I've heard, I disagree. Once we get permission to split your team into two, your SFA will become the new lead, and you'll divy up the probies."

"Thanks, Tony," Paula smiled. "I'll take care of it."

Tony smiled back. "I knew you would. Derek, I gave Pete's contact info to you too, since you've got that cop background, same as me and Pete. I think he'd appreciate a little help adjusting to life as a Fed, and he might help you deal with the whole alien thing. Which, I can tell you, after a week, is still batshit crazy, by the way, though Davis swears you get used to it." They both laughed, and then Paula headed for Matthews to pick up her packet, but Tony grabbed Derek's arm to stop him from doing the same.

Tugging Derek back towards the whiteboard, and further away from anyone who might hear, he said quietly, "I expect you to turn most of the bomb stuff over to the EOD expert, but it'll be your cover: we've got a mole issue. You and Penny and any other profiler or analyst you need are going to be covertly working on Project Dolus; Matthews has secondary packets for both of you. To the best of our knowledge all our new folks are clean, but your first job is to confirm that, starting with our JAG duo, Cynthia, and Delores. Then you're going on the biggest mole hunt ever, with JAG at your side."

"There's a CIA agent — Webb — they're pretty positive is clean, who you'll also be coordinating with, once you clear him. He's with State, so he'll grease any palms you need internationally or on the Hill. I'm officially basing you out of Area 51, but you're likely to be traveling all over, since this is believed to be a global problem. You've already got a Learjet in Nevada with your name on it. All the rest of the details are in your packets."

"Alright man," Derek agreed easily, masking the overwhelm Tony was sure he was feeling. "We'll do our best."

Tony grinned at his friend, and then shot an echoing grin at his soulmate, who was waiting with their bags. "I know you will," he agreed. "That's why I demanded you two."

After a quick hug with a manly back slap, Derek went to pick up his packets and then head out with Penny. Once the room was cleared, Tony pulled his chair back up to the table, joining Mac, Harm, Delores, Cynthia, Matthews, Kendrick, and Davis. Once everyone had grabbed a chair or scooted theirs closer, he began. "So, let's talk about legal."

"Admiral Chegwidden was read into the program a few days ago, and sent us in today," Harm started. "Now that we know the secret, the packet he had waiting for us makes a lot more sense. Basically, there's been at best a miscommunication or oversight, and at worse a conspiracy."

"Well we're already living in one of those, so I know where my money is," Tony said darkly.

"What's the problem?" Kendrick prompted.

"Well, officially, the Air Force's JAG was read into the program. However, what that means in practice was that a few of your — for lack of a better word — document lawyers were read in. The people who write NDAs and employment contracts and things, basically. You've had a few paper pushers destroying trees, but that isn't the same as having prosecutors or defense attorneys. I don't think anyone's been properly represented when interviewed or investigated at the Mountain. No one noticed because nothing was being done by trained investigators, so there were no warrants or anything."

"There are a few examples," Mac took over the explanation, "of someone breaking their NDA and it going to a Colorado Judge, but most of the information was blacked out, and he was basically ruling on something he couldn't know anything about. It's a miracle he made any judgments at all, and actually kinda fishy. We might need to look into him…"

"So basically," Tony summarized, "best case scenario, whenever anyone like O'Neill or Davis here, asked about lawyers, they were told that they had them, because whoever was answering knew about the document lawyers, and didn't realize there was a distinction between them and investigative and courtroom lawyers. And worst case scenario, someone was deliberately obfuscating the legalities of the program for nefarious purposes. And since we already know that the program has a mole problem, I'm not feeling all that optimistic. Yes, Cynthia and Delores, you're being read into the mole problem right now. Surprise!" he added. "Cynthia, you'll be coordinating with JAG on my behalf often in this mess, so you have to know. Delores, you'll be in charge of our hiring, and also record keeping, and you'll be passing personnel information to JAG and our mole task force, so you needed to know, too."

"The mole investigator's first job is to clear the people in this circle, and until then, no one but me will know their identity. Once he or she has cleared you, you'll be fully read in." Davis had already been cleared, and would be Derek's source for personnel files and such until Delores and Cynthia were okayed, but they didn't need to know that. "So, now that we know there's been an oversight, and since I intend to run a tight, legal ship…" Tony hinted.

"For now, send any warrant paperwork to Mac and I," Harm said with a sigh. "The Admiral will sign off on anything you need a judge for. I expect you'll be finding a lot of worrisome stuff as you work through the backlog, and just throw it in our laps as much as possible so you can get on with the investigative side of things. We'll be working up a list of people to read into the program who are either based in Nevada or Colorado or who can be moved there. Depending on how much work you'll have for us—"

"—Which with the mole thing, will probably be a lot—" Mac interjected.

"—We'll probably set up a permanent legal office at the Mountain, and provide remote services from there to Area 51, Antarctica, Atlantis, etc." Harm continued. "You're right about assigning JAG to the cruisers as well, and if we rotate a small core of people through each of the duty stations and ships, with backup housed at the Mountain, it should work. With Atlantis being in another Galaxy, we'll probably eventually have to do something different about it, but until they regain contact, that's all hypothetical."

"There's already precedent with the paperwork lawyers who have been permanently read in," he explained, "so I don't foresee problems with bringing in more JAG lawyers, other than the background checks and NDAs. We'll probably end up with one or two local judges each in Colorado and Nevada, with possibly a few others whom you can call for warrants. We'll also need to link up with the locals about that."

"We'll look at what McMurdo has been doing for JAG services and see what precedent is there," Mac added. "From what little we've been told, I think you're right about aligning with them, and I'll suggest to the Admiral that JAG does the same as NCIS/AFOSI."

Harm nodded. "Then, in Colorado, at the SGC, you'll have a few lawyers and some paralegals, records clerks, etc. The one thing the paperwork guys have been somewhat decent at is writing new legal guidelines and precedents for alien interactions and rights, but not all of those have been made official yet. We'll have to come up with some pamphlets for you guys to study, and I know we'll find more that needs to be determined once we start going through the old cases, so we'll be creating new stuff as we go along."

"So we're basically making an intergalactic UCMJ?" Tony asked.

"Basically," Mac agreed. "Though with the international players already involved, it's more accurate to say we're making a planetary code of justice."

"Hey, you make it and name it, I'll just enforce it," Tony offered easily. "Does this mean we'll need to commandeer some space beside ours to make a legal office in the Mountain?"

"Definitely," Harm said with a firm nod. "And we'll need at least temporary offices at Area 51, for when we need to visit, if we don't set up anything permanent."

Tony turned to Davis, who had his PDA ready. "Well we have a use for that second conference room I didn't think I'd need at Area 51," he said. "And I think there were two small rooms down the hall from there that we could use for legal offices? Slap JAG's name on 'em. Plus temporary berthing." He shifted back to look at Mac and Harm. "I know you lawyers all are officers, but your paralegals and such? Do we put them in officer, civilian, or noncom country?"

Mac and Harm exchanged glances. "A mix of civilian and noncom, but they'll be fine in either berthing," she finally decided.

"Most of us are officially in civilian country," Tony said, "so we'll put your folks in with us on 15," he looked at Davis for confirmation and received a nod. "At Cheyenne our working space is mostly spread between Levels 17 and 16. You'll have access to the brig and interview rooms on 16, and we'll use some of our spare space on 17 to get you offices and a meeting room. We're already moving several dozen boxes of records to 17, so you'll have easy access. Just tell Davis how many offices and if you want them sized for one or two people. And how big a conference room. Other than that…" he scratched his head, trying to recall the setup at the JAG offices in Falls Church.

"Will there be hearings or trials on base?" Davis asked.

"There probably will be," Harm said. "But for the most part I'd say we could commandeer existing spaces for that kind of thing, rather than needing a dedicated courtroom." Mac nodded her agreement.

"We have a large space already set up for something similar on Level 17; a diplomatic council chamber," Davis explained. "I'll mark it as the reserve courtroom as well."

"That'll do for us, then," Mac assured him. "We'll have the number of offices we need nailed down for you by tomorrow, Major Davis."

"Yes Ma'am," he agreed.

"Great," Tony said cheerfully, checking JAG off his list. "Then I leave all the legalese in JAG's capable hands, and I leave JAG in Davis's capable hands. Two more things off my plate. I assume that all of our official email addresses have been compiled into some nice list somewhere?"

Davis looked blankly at him, so Tony turned to Cynthia, "Or will be compiled into such a list soon?" She nodded. "Then once that's done, we'll need a contact tree. Send a copy to JAG so they can share their new exciting laws with us. I assume that once they get their own contact tree, that'll get forwarded to us so that we know who to talk to for help. Since no one expects us for at least three days, I don't anticipate us needing warrants before then, but if I've learned anything over the years it's that the unexpected is exactly what will happen." Tony snarked.

"That does seem to be the prevailing truism of working at the SGC," Davis said blandly.

"Anything else that JAG needs from me?" Tony asked. When Mac and Harm both shook their heads, he looked at Davis. "Anything you need from them?" Another no, and the duo were able to leave. When they were gone, Tony turned to the rest.

"Officially, all of our civilian hiring and agent transfers go through NCIS or AFOSI, respectively," he explained. "In practicalities, I've been told that anyone we need — and most people we just plain want — we'll get. If their bosses won't release them, we're allowed to woo them with more pay if they quit and join us as civilians or if they'll transfer agencies. Which is making me realize I should have played harder to get and held out for a bigger raise," he joked. In truth, he had been Morrow's the second his hand touched Tony's wrist band, but no one else needed to know that.

"For people already employed by AFOSI, Cynthia or Delores will submit the request to Kendrick. If someone over his head objects, he has permission to go straight to the OSI Commander, Brigadier General Bullard, who has been read in, and is trusting us not to abuse our ability to reach him. For people already employed by NCIS, we are to ask Matthews here. Because Director Shepard has not been read in, — and will not be in the foreseeable future — if she objects we're to kick it up the chain to Deputy Morrow, who will get SECNAV or SECDEF to overrule her."

"Do you know why she isn't being read in?" Cynthia asked.

Matthews nodded and Tony let him take the floor. "When I asked, Deputy Morrow explained that even Agency Directors have probationary periods, and she's not going to be told until she completes hers."

"That's what I was told as well," Tony agreed. "So in the meantime, we have to go sideways and then over her head. It's not ideal, but it's what we've got. Next, for other Federal hires, like the Morgans, we simply need to talk to Morrow, who knows who he needs to talk to pretty much everywhere on the Hill. Finally, for civilians, we have the option of forwarding those requests to Davis, or directly to Morrow. I got the impression that Davis would send the requests up the Air Force chain of command and they would eventually be spat out on Morrow's desk anyway, so it was heavily implied that we just see him. The past civilian hiring at the SGC was done through the Air Force, and the person who eventually signed those papers was in a position that's been obsoleted by the shift to create Homeworld Security and the move away from the NID. It's all way above my pay grade," Tony concluded cheerfully.

"And all materials and supplies will be routed through Stargate Command?" Matthews wanted to clarify.

"That's what I was told," Tony said. "I suppose if we wanted something exclusive, like our branded hats and vests, we might send home for those. But I was also thinking that I didn't want to segregate our teams that way, since they'll be mixed personnel. If we could have something printed that had both names for all of us? Or if we internally rebranded as the SGIS? Stargate Investigative Services? Or SGSI — Stargate Special Investigations; I'm not picky. It's a lot less of a mouthful than saying NCIS-AFOSI Joint Task Force, at least, and we refrain from repeating a couple words."

"I agree that it makes sense to have a unified internal designate that gets to the point," Matthews said. "Especially since I got the impression, when I pressed Deputy Morrow, that they're thinking of eventually splitting off in that direction, under the auspices of Homeworld. Perhaps Homeworld Investigative could be our internal name?"

Kendrick looked shocked, but Davis and Tony both nodded. "I got that impression as well," Tony agreed. "I think we're a test case, but let's be real: if this mole hunt takes us anywhere near the NID, then suddenly we're talking about coordinating with International governments. Given the size of the Atlantis expedition, if it isn't shrunk after reconnection, I'd definitely be sending at least one four-person team there, plus JAG. If they come anywhere close to doubling in size after reconnecting, I'd have to send two teams to spell each other. Plus forensics, ME, and support staff. Plus…" Tony glanced at Davis, who sighed, but then nodded.

"We've had a lot of problems with the mole group, largely in terms of stealing alien tech to sell, globally" Davis admitted.

"So we're looking at needing teams to track down missing tech, spanning the globe," Tony confirmed. "At this rate, we're going to have almost as many people in this thing as work at the NCIS building in the Naval Yard in DC. I've put things together from a few different conversations and the limited reports I've already been given, and I suspect we're grossly underestimating how many people we'll need both at the Mountain and in Nevada. We probably won't be catching as many of the high profile assaults and homicides that we saw with the MCRT, but I think we'll have more than enough cases with intelligence and espionage to balance it out."

Tony took a deep breath. "In part, that's why I brought in the Morgans from the FBI, and the police officer I mentioned from Colorado. We're going to need a lot of people, and we can't just gut NCIS and OSI. We'll need to spread out and poach from a lot of different places — especially if we don't want people asking questions we can't legally answer. Instead of taking every analyst from NCIS or OSI, let's look at the NSA. I know we don't have Army or Coast Guard units, but there's no reason we can't poach support staff from CID or CGIS. DEA or ICE might have some people with an insight into smuggling alien tech, too. Just because we started with Morrow's experience at NCIS doesn't mean we can't think big picture here. Morrow joked that there was a bit of a brain drain to the program from the hard sciences, and I think we'll need our own brain drain for investigative services."

"I suspect that, before the three days are up, JAG is going to realize the scope of the problem too, and probably double their own personnel estimates, like I have. So as soon as the mole hunt clears people, I want us working on this ASAP. From what Davis and General O'Neill have let slip, it sounds like gate teams are often called on to handle legal matters in the field, from treaty negotiation to arguing for their own teammates not to get killed. I suspect we're going to be getting a hell of a lot of requests for field-ready lawyers in our future, no matter what branch they started in, and that all comes through us at SGSI."

"Oh god," Delores groaned.

"Just hit ya, huh?" Tony grinned sympathetically. "I do that a few times a day."

"My wife is a patent lawyer," she said. "Are we patenting alien tech?"

Tony's jaw dropped, and he glanced at Davis, who shrugged back, baffled. "I don't know, but I'm sure our new JAG contingent would like that answer too," he said wearily.

"Yeah, shoot 'em an email," Tony agreed, then grinned. "Tell them to poach the other Mrs Bromstead to handle it while they're at it." That made Delores smile.

"If that's all for now?" Matthews asked. Tony glanced around the circle, but no one objected. "I've got a briefing to prepare for," Matthews excused himself.

"Everyone's free to go," Tony agreed, pulling out his card and handing copies around. "My email. Any ideas, shoot them at me sooner rather than later. I'd rather ask fast and be told there's nothing to worry about than be blindsided later. Call if there's an emergency."

As they began to rise, Tony turned to Davis. "That reminds me. I assume that generally speaking cell phones aren't allowed on base, but we'll need ones that we can take in and out to communicate with each other? It's all well and good to have an office line, but if I'm at home and there's a problem at Area 51, and I need to be gotten a hold of in a rush… We'll also need special clearance for cameras and things to pass through security. I don't even want to think about how we'll communicate with people offworld…" he drifted for a moment, then shook his head to clear it. "My point being, new, SGC-issued cell phones? And possibly internal email addresses? And then…" he held one up in demonstration, "business cards?"

Davis sighed, as he often seemed to do around Tony, and began typing away on his PDA. "I'll look into it, and speak to the General, Sir. Generally speaking we use coms, but you can't leave a message, or ensure that they're secure, and they don't have the same capabilities as a SAT phone for someone trying to communicate between states or continents."

"And if we're going to be tracking this stolen crap all over the world," Tony added as he started erasing and cleaning the whiteboard. "Which is also a good reason for cells and business cards, when we're interviewing witnesses out in the real world. Also a good reason for a name we can use in public. We might need to rethink having Stargate or Homeworld in the title. But all of that is something we can throw in the laps of Deputy Morrow and the Generals, probably. I'm sure naming things is above our pay grade."

Once they had finished tidying, Tony ran his eyes over the room again to ensure they had left nothing behind before hefting his go bag and turning out the lights. Then he escorted Davis and his cart full of forms back through the NCIS offices. Outside, he had an Air Force Airman waiting with a file box to do the heavy lifting, and Tony saw them off in a waiting car. Since his stomach was growling, Tony went off in search of food. He still had a meeting with Matthews later tonight, to collect some recommended personnel files, before catching his transport back at 2200. In the meantime, he wanted a burger and fries, if he could get it.

Chapter Text

"So, DiNozzo, you're coming home with me," O'Neill said as the meeting broke up.

"I am, Sir?" Tony asked. He had no idea what the General could want to take him home for — well, he had some idea, but he knew he had been very careful about not flirting with any of the Officers in the program. Of course, the only ones he had really met were Paul and the two Generals, but the point stood. He had been very good about not flirting with any of them.

"You are," O'Neill confirmed. Once they had both gathered their things, O'Neill strode down the hall, and Tony hurried to match his stride. Tony's go bag had been handed off to some airman shortly after his arrival and was supposed to be in his berth, but he had no idea where that was. O'Neill didn't seem to be in the mood to wait or detour, though maybe he intended to bring Tony back later?

"Why am I going home with you?" he asked cheerfully, though he kept his voice low — didn't want to start any rumors. "I'm not sure what you've heard, but I'm not the kind of boy who sleeps with the Base Commander," he added.

"You'd better not be," O'Neill growled as the elevator doors opened.

Tony had a brief flashback to Gibbs, but he was fairly certain that O'Neill wouldn't be stopping them between floors for a chat. If for no other reason than that he was fairly certain security was a bit more paranoid and twitchy around here, and they'd call for help about five seconds after the 'Stop' button was pushed.

They were the only ones on the elevator, however, and as soon as they were alone, O'Neill said. "Call me Jack, out of the office."

"Alright, Jack," Tony said, doing his best to mask his suspicion. "You can call me Tony, then." In his experience, being invited to call someone that high up by their first name so soon after meeting them was usually a ploy to make you feel more comfortable. A ploy he wasn't going to be caught up in.

"So, Tony, what sports did you play?"

"I'm sure that was in my file, Jack" Tony said easily.

"Oh, you betcha. Doesn't help with the small talk, though."

"Why are you trying to make small talk?" Tony asked.

The elevators opened, and they quickly passed through security, the short, crowded, trip in the second elevator, the final security check, and out of the Mountain before Jack answered. "So, were you number 25 across all the sports you played?"

Tony was so off his game, and distantly thankful that Jack had waited until they were alone again, that he actually froze while the General continued several steps.

Finally, he stopped, realizing Tony was no longer beside him, and looked back. "Look, when you've been stripped naked by restless natives or needle-wielding Doctors or Ancient glowy aliens who hold a grudge as many times as we have, you start remembering the names you see. I'm also Danny's best friend, and it'll be weird to have you both over for dinner if he's calling me Jack and you're calling me Sir."

At last Tony managed to reboot his brain, and he started walking again. "I see, S— Jack," he said. "So inviting me to your home…"

"I thought you might want to break the news on neutral territory," Jack explained. "Where people can come and go without having to catch an elevator and pass through security, or worry about surveillance."

Well that was certainly a nice gesture, but also worrying. Doing his best to sound casual, Tony asked, "You think people will need to leave in a hurry from this conversation?"

Jack shrugged and indicated that they had reached his truck. As they both climbed in, he said, "Daniel's a pain in the butt — always going on and on about ancient cultures. And he's a trouble magnet with a capital T. Always being kidnapped by glowy alien assholes and snaky alien assholes and general alien assholes. I wouldn't blame you for running for the hills."

Tony lurched to reframe the offer in his mind. He had thought Jack was implying that Daniel would take one look at him and make a break for it. If he was implying that Tony would be the one scared off… that was actually kind of sweetly protective, in a manly, jerky, Brigadier General, kind of way. "Well I've been told I'm a trouble magnet that talks about movies so much that even my coworkers want to shoot me, so I think it sounds like a perfect match," Tony said as blithely as he could.

Jack grinned, though he mostly kept his eyes on the road. '"So, you ever play hockey?"

"Not competitively," Tony grinned back, "But in a pick up game or two, sure."

"What do you think about Bobby Orr?" Jack asked cheerfully.

The sports talk lasted all the way to Jack's house, and Tony noticed the second car already there when they pulled in. Suddenly, he was flooded with nerves again, to the point that even as he recognized the cherry red car as a classic, he didn't even register what kind it was. As they climbed out of the truck, Jack said, "By the way, you know that I have access to weapons that won't just kill you, but they'll vaporize your body, too."

Tony gulped, but couldn't help but say admiringly, "Wow, that's better than Abby's shovel talk. She actually needs acid and stuff to follow through on her threats to make your body disappear without a trace."

"Isn't that the new Forensics Tech?" Jack asked, a bit of a grin tugging at his lips. When Tony nodded, his smile widened. "I'm gonna like you folks," he declared.

"She'll like you too, although she might briefly hate you for introducing her to weapons with forensics countermeasures like those," Tony joked.

Jack clapped Tony on the shoulder and then opened the door. As soon as they got inside, a voice greeted them. "Jack, you were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"Is the pizza cold?" Jack asked sadly as he hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. Tony hurried to copy him.

The voice — who had to be Daniel — scoffed. "No. I do know you, Jack. I didn't put it in the oven until Marcus said you had passed through security. It'll be done in five minutes."

"Marcus?" Jack asked.

"Airman James Marcus, who works Security evening weekdays?" Daniel prompted.

"Oh right," Tony could tell that Jack still had no idea who he was talking about. "Hell of a guy."

"Jack you can't even picture him, can y— oh, hello," Daniel said as Tony followed Jack into a comfortably rustic living room. He was sitting on the earthy brown couch, wearing an ivory sweater and jeans: his bare feet were propped on the coffee table and he had a thick book open in his lap. Daniel's hair was cut military short, though his scruffy beard was not, he wore round wire-rim glasses, and Tony caught a peek of a dark band around his wrist that appeared to be leather. Probably the same combat standard one that Jack and Tony both wore as well. He was also hot as hell, and Tony had to remind himself to breathe again. At least he had worn one of his best suits, in anticipation of the many meetings with higher Brass he'd been in all day, though he could have wished for ten minutes to freshen up.

"Daniel, this is NCIS Special Agent Anthony D DiNozzo, PhD. Our new head of investigations around the base," Jack declared tactlessly, causing Daniel's jaw to drop. "I think I'll leave him here with you while I go find that pizza," he added, before heading off to what Tony assumed was the kitchen only slightly faster than necessary.

Since it seemed to be Daniel's turn to be shocked silent, Tony took it upon himself to break the ice. "Hi there. Please, call me Tony."

"Y— you're really… uh, that is, you're really my—" Daniel stuttered.

"I think that's my line," Tony offered. He came the rest of the way into the room, unsnapping the strap around his wrist as he did. "You are Doctor Daniel Jackson?" he asked, more hesitantly than he'd like, as he unbuttoned his sleeve and tugged it up. Finally, his forearm was bare, and Tony held out his wrist for inspection.

Daniel reached out hesitantly, eyes wide, and stopped just shy of touching Tony's wrist. He sketched a line over each permutation of his name; Tony could feel the warmth of his fingers. "Uh… oh. Oh wow," Daniel murmured. Then, suddenly, he was on his feet, sweater sleeve pushed back to his elbow, unsnapping his own cuff. He held his wrist out side by side with Tony's. There, in all their glory, were Tony's signatures.

A small, private part of his mind was relieved to see absolutely no hint of 'Sex Machine,' and was a little proud of how well-practiced his young 'Tony' was. Not nearly as wobbly as he'd feared or remembered. Though it was a little strange to see how many times his name had changed, compared to Daniel's three. "Wow," Daniel said again.

"That is definitely the right word for it," Tony agreed, eyes still hungrily examining their matching wrists. Deputy Morrow had said that Daniel was here, and it was unlikely that he'd lie — he'd even known Tony's number, and so had Jack — but there was being told and then there was seeing and knowing.

Daniel was here — really here — and he hadn't run screaming from the room yet. That was already better than some of his worst fears had imagined their first meeting. And if Daniel wasn't being very eloquent, well, neither was Tony, and he was known for his smooth talking and flirting. Besides, other than in movies, he had no idea how people dealt with meeting their soulmate for the first time in real life, so they might be doing just fine.

"And you— hang on, Jack said you work at— at the base?" Daniel asked.

Tony read between the lines, and decided to confirm that he was cleared to know what Daniel was hinting at. "Yes, I've been hired to work at Stargate Command. I spent the first part of this morning getting poked and prodded by your Doctor Brightman, who seemed very excited with how strong my A-something gene was. I'm afraid I missed a bit of the details in all the medical babble. But whatever it is she liked it, and I officially don't have a snake in my brain, so I was cleared to begin work. Then I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in meetings with Jack and a bunch of other Brass. Oh, and I hid in Paul's office during lunch and got some actual work done with him. I've been assured that this was a highly atypical first day in the Mountain, and according to Jack, the fact that the 'Unscheduled Offworld Activation' alarm didn't go off even once is apparently a miracle and/or a sign of the apocalypse."

"You know, I'm surprised we haven't met a Goa'uld who claimed to be the Anti-christ yet," Jack said, appearing with two plates of pizza, which he placed on the coffee table. He had two beer bottles tucked under his arm and put them down too.

"You mean like Damien in The Omen?" Tony said, his mind and mouth kicking into autopilot. "1976, featuring Harvey Spencer Stephens in his debut role as the little antichrist. Or something more like Adrien in 1968's Rosemary's Baby?"

"The former," Jack said, though Tony didn't have a firm read on whether he was amused or confused by the references.

"That's because for the most part the ending of Goa'uld contact with Earth predates the invention of Christianity, up until we reengaged with them," Daniel said absently. "Jack, how long have you known about Tony?" he continued mildly.

"I've seen your wrist plenty of times," Jack said, ambling back towards the kitchen.

"Jack," Daniel said sharply.

"Oh, you mean how long have I known him as more than a name?" Jack asked innocently. "Coupla days now."

"Our first teleconference was a week ago, on Monday evening," Tony said. "Though I had to have gotten clearance of some sort before then to even get into the room at that time."

"Close enough," Jack waved his hand negligently.

"Jack" Daniel's tone had more heat this time. Tony thought he might be able to catalog the way Daniel said Jack's name, the way he cataloged the different meanings of 'DiNozzo!' in Gibbs-speak.

"Daniel?" Jack asked.

"Jack, you've known for a week?" Daniel prodded.

"Well it took that long to get him here," Jack said reasonably, walking away. "There was no point in having you fly out to Washington just to fly back here with him a few days later. I'll be on the roof; holler if you need me to Zat him!" he called back over his shoulder before vanishing. Despite his calm tone, Tony was fairly certain this was a strategic retreat.

"I admit I'm not fully caught up on a decade's worth of files," Tony admitted, deciding to give Jack a break by changing the subject, "but am I right in assuming that a Zat is the weapon that would dispose of my body should I hurt you?"

"He— He threatened to dispose of your body?" Daniel asked, eyes wide again.

Tony shrugged. "Standard shovel talk: I expected it. You'll get mine from Abby once she finishes moving."

"Uh… I— uh, I admittedly didn't have the most typical upbringing," Daniel said, "But I'm not sure what a shovel has to do with Jack threatening to Zat you."

They had backed apart when Jack reappeared, so Tony leaned past Daniel to grab the closest slice of pizza, then slid down onto the couch. "you know, the stereotypical father sitting on the porch pointedly cleaning his shotgun when the nice young man comes around to date his daughter for the first time. And he nods at the shovel leaning against the railing and explains that, if said young man hurts said daughter, then people will need said shovel to dig up his dead body? Hence, shovel talk. Generally done by siblings or best friends if you don't have a dad around to give it. Clearly Jack has claimed that prerogative for you. And Abby will definitely give it to you on my behalf."

"I— I don't… Jack said you would need a Zat instead of a shovel?" Daniel still seemed confused by the concept, and Tony foresaw a lot of catching up on pop culture in his future.

"Not exactly," Tony cleared his throat with a quick sip of his beer. "The custom has evolved, and doesn't always mention the shovel. Jack mentioned that he had access to a weapon that would vaporize my body, leaving no trace. In other words, the shovel wouldn't even be necessary."

"I'm not sure how— how to respond to that," Daniel admitted.

Tony shrugged. "Like I said, I was expecting it, though not from him specifically. It just means that he cares about you, and if I hurt you I'll have to answer to him. I have no intention of hurting you, so he shouldn't have to make good on his promise. When Abby corners you and tells you that she is a forensic scientist, which means that she knows a dozen different ways to kill you without leaving any evidence, it will mean the same thing."

"Oh." Daniel took a long swallow of his beer, staring into the middle distance. Finally he asked, "Does she?"

"Know a dozen ways to kill you without a trace?" Tony clarified. Daniel nodded. "Nah." Daniel looked a little more relaxed, so he dropped the other shoe. "She probably knows two dozen. Hell, I know one or two myself, and that was before I learned about this Zat gun." he grinned at Daniel's flabbergasted expression. "Hey, we work in law enforcement. Our day job is literally to find out where the bad guys went wrong. We know every mistake not to make."

"Uh, I'm not sure if I find that, uh, impressive, or— or chilling," Daniel replied.

Tony shrugged and took a bite of his pizza. "I suggest both!" he said cheerfully. It had the desired effect: Daniel stopped looking worried and smiled back at him before taking a bite of his own pizza.

"So what exactly is it you're going to do at the SGC?" Daniel asked once they had both finished their first slice, and he had grabbed two more from the kitchen.

"Well, I work at NCIS — Naval Criminal Investigative Services," Tony explained. "Basically cops who focus on crimes involving the Navy and Marines. Just like AFOSI focuses on crimes involving the Air Force. We're creating a joint task force — though we're getting a cool new name for it — to police the Air Force, Marines, and Civilians — and aliens, I guess — involved in the Stargate. We'll have agents and offices at Cheyenne Mountain, Area 51, Antarctica, and presumably Atlantis one day, as well as having Agents Afloat your BC-304s."

"So you'll be our cops, basically?" Daniel said.

"Cops, forensics, lawyers — we're bringing JAG in with us — medical examiner, profilers, analysts, and some support staff —," Tony clarified. "We're taking the Program by storm."

"Oh," Daniel seemed to be thinking that through. "I guess I can see the need. There's been things in the past that SG-1 handled, and I remember at the time wishing that we had our own police officers. Although my only experience with AFOSI was…"

"Less than stellar?" Tony guessed. Daniel nodded. "Yeah, I've met Kendricks. He didn't handle the alien revelation well — he wasn't the right person to read in, but his boss didn't know that because he hadn't been read in, so he was working from an incomplete profile and guessed wrong. The good news is that both he and the Brass have now been read in, and we're getting some agents who can probably handle the position. Kendricks is actually our liaison, which is a position he's much better suited for."

"I suppose that makes sense," Daniel agreed. "So you're going to be one of our agents?"

"Kinda," Tony hedged. "I'm actually the Special Agent in Charge."

"Wow," Daniel sounded impressed, which made Tony want to squirm in pleasure. "So you're in charge of all the others?"

"Yeah,"

He didn't miss the way Daniel's eyes flickered down to his own wrist.

"I haven't actually signed anything with that title yet," he explained quickly. "There's a bit of discussion going around about our titles, which was kicked up to the Brass this morning. We'll hear back tomorrow or Wednesday at the latest, which is when everyone else officially reports for duty. "On the one hand, every report that we send up the chain should technically show us as NCIS, AFOSI, or FBI personnel, or what have you. We're all still employees of our own federal agencies. So I should just be Supervisory Special Agent DiNozzo of NCIS at a redacted base. The problem is that shouting out, 'Freeze, NCIS-AFOSI-FBI Joint Task Force!' is a bit of a mouthful."

"You can say that again," Daniel chuckled.

"So we thought we'd make something short, sweet, and unified, like Stargate Special Investigations, and throw that on anything that isn't going to those who don't know the truth. But then we realized that we're going to be doing a lot of traveling, hunting down Trust agents and such, and cleaning up after messes that involve civilians, and we need a name that we can put on the business cards. That's what the Brass are deciding on. Once that comes down, I'll be Special Agent DiNozzo, SAC of the Whatever. Until I know what the full thing is, I've just been using my plain old Special Agent signature."

"That makes sense," Daniel admitted.

"I do that sometimes," Tony smirked.

Daniel looked stricken for half a second, before realizing it was a joke. Then he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Just my luck, you'll have a sense of humor like Jack's," he muttered.

"Yeah, try that with someone who hasn't heard a bunch of stories from Paul about a certain snarky archeologist who apparently drives the military folk around him crazy." Tony taunted.

"Well, since I haven't had people around to share stories about you I guess I'll just have to take your word for it," Daniel snarked.

"Oh yeah, you're not snarky at all," Tony replied in the same tone.

Daniel chuckled. "Okay, I'll give you that. So you've met Paul, then?"

"I mean, he is the NDA fairy, so we all did," Tony took a sip of his beer.

"Oh, th- that makes sense." Daniel said neutrally.

Tony let him off the hook. "But, yeah, I know what you meant. You don't get to the 'first-name basis sharing funny stories' stage during one NDA signing," Tony said. "We've been sort of attached at the hip trying to get this thing off the ground. The Brass meets and makes a decision, and then throws it at Paul and I to actually carry out. We've been doing all the grunt work on their behalf."

"Oh, I bet he's been very helpful, then," Daniel said with masked relief.

"I should probably get this out of the way now, though," Tony said. "I'm a huge flirt. Basically do it as easy as breathing. It's really helpful on the job, you know. Calms witnesses down, gets them to cooperate, makes people willing to give us information, yada yada yada. I don't mean anything by it, and I try to make a point of not flirting with the Admirals and Generals and whatnot in charge of my life, you know? Of course, I've also never been with anyone who— not that I cheat!" he quickly clarified. "But, I'm not— you— you're different, obviously."

Tony sighed. "I'm not doing this well. I just— I wasn't flirting with Paul either, but I've had people in the past misinterpret. I'll try to tone it down, I promise, but I don't always know I'm doing it sometimes until Gibbs smacks me. Though I think I was right, some of those times. I don't — I'm not looking for anyone else but… but you"

Daniel seemed to think about that for a minute, but finally he said, "I've met someone like that — who flirts all the time, though she gives the impression that if I said yes she'd take me up on it—"

"Well, that might just be a you thing," Tony pointed out with a smirk. "I mean, have you seen how hot you are?"

That made Daniel blush, but he gave a small smile and continued. "W- What I'm saying is, it might take a bit to adjust, but as long as you don't hold it against me every time some alien princess tries to seduce and capture me, I won't hold it against you if you flirt with them."

Tony's wide grin brought out a matching one in Daniel. "I think I can agree to that."

Tony had just downed the rest of his beer when his cell rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw that it was Penelope Morgan, and thought it was an excellent time to give Daniel an example. "You're in luck; this is Penny; she and her mate are also natural born flirts. You'll get to see us engaging in the typical behavior of our species." Daniel chuckled as he answered and quickly put it on speaker. "Hello my Goddess, does your husband know you're calling another man this late at night?" Tony expected Penny to play along, or remind him that it wasn't even seven in their new time zone, but she didn't.

"Tony, you— I need to tell you— except I don't know if I should…" she babbled.

"Penny, are you and Morgan okay?" Tony snapped into work mode.

"We're fine!" she assured him. "It isn't us. Not that it's anyone else. No one's hurt!"

"Mama, take a deep breath," Tony heard Derek in the background. "Now tell him what you found."

Penny complied, taking a deep breath. "I found something; something I'm not sure I was supposed to. Not that I was snooping, but I didn't know that they did things differently in the SGC, and now I'm not sure if I can tell you. This phone line might not even be secured, not that that's the reason, of course, and I really think that you have a right to know, but—"

"Penny!" Tony cut her off with a laugh. She could babble on like Abby if given a chance. But he had a fairly good idea where she was going with this. "I take it that you were doing your job, and reviewing personnel files, right Gorgeous?"

"Yes."

"And you saw that this morning they updated mine to be SGC standard, which caused quite a few raised eyebrows at the time, and a lot of glaring people into submission and silence on that new Doctor Lam's part — I swear to god that Doctor Keller is a thirteen year old girl eager to gossip with her friends. Anyway, Doctor Lam — I actually kinda like her — shut them all up and kept it hushed up for now because of another file I assume you've just gotten to. And thus you've deduced my clandestine secondary reason for taking this job."

"You knew," Penny breathed out in relief. "Of course you knew, you know everything."

"Not even close to everything," Tony laughed, "But Morrow did warn me of this in advance. Well, less 'warn of' and more 'bribe with,' but semantics—"

"I knew your explanation for finally leaving NCIS wasn't the whole truth, even with the Big Reveal," Derek joked, clearly meaning aliens.

"Yeah, well, you're a Profiler, you have a secret advantage," Tony waved his hand dismissively, even though they couldn't see it through the phone. They'd had many conversations in the past about the similarities and differences between profiling Unsubs and the kind of hot and cold readings that undercover operatives did.

"Oh, you are so lucky!" Penny declared. "He is like, a total hunk! And smart! Ooh Daddy! I am blessed with so many examples of male hotness in my life."

"Hey!" Derek complained good-naturedly.

Tony was amused to note the blush that her words had caused in Daniel. "Speaking of which, my ray of sunshine, would you two like to say hi? You can't tell Abby, though. She'd kill me if she wasn't the first to meet him."

"We'd love to!" Penny squealed. "Wait, is he there with you? Did we catch you going at it? If you were, don't mind us; we'll just be here listening."

"Penny!" Derek sounded scandalized, while Tony burst out laughing. Daniel, unprepared, seemed to have snorted his beer up his nose. "I'm sure he wouldn't have answered the phone if they'd been knocking boots," Derek continued.

"Oh, I would have answered, but once I heard it wasn't an emergency, I'd have hung back up with prejudice," Tony assured them. He'd actually had to do that more than once, thanks to Gibbs's rule three. Tony had no intention of forcing any of those rules on his own people, save for one or two of the more reasonable ones.

"Well then, hi there!" Penelope declared. "I'm Penelope, and this is Derek!"

"Very nice to meet you," Daniel said politely. "I'm Doctor Jackson, but please call me Daniel."

"Hey man," Derek said.

"I take it that you two are good friends of Tony's, more than just being part of his new team?" Daniel had clearly put the clues together about them being read into the program and why.

"We are, though we're stationed in Nevada," Penny's voice fell slightly, while Daniel's eyes rose in surprise. "But we'll get together by video or something, and as soon as we have a reason to come visit, you two can take us out to dinner!"

"Hey, let me finish my first date with the man before you go planning a couples' retreat," Tony teased her.

"Okay, I'll put on hold my plans for a foursome," Penny said woefully.

"Penny!" Derek complained as Tony just about fell off the couch laughing. "No more phone privileges for you, Mama," he concluded. "Tone, we'll talk to you later, when someone can be trusted to behave herself."

"I won't hold my breath then," Tony managed to reply. "Bye you two."

"Bye-bye my Adonis, and New Adonis!" Penelope chirped.

Tony hung up, still giggling. Daniel was blushing, but looked less shocked than someone like McGeek would have been. Tony felt a small pang go through him at the memory of his old team, but he shoved it aside. The probie would be fine without him. "Well, worried opener aside, that's a fairly accurate example of what it's like when the three of us get together," Tony said. "It's worse when Abby is there, though."

"Another flirt?" Daniel asked mildly.

"Nah, not Abs. She's just about the most cheerful, peppy, Pollyanna-y person ever. To the point where you really should want to strangle her, but you just can't hold it against her. Except when she's mad at you, in which case I'd suggest running, if that wouldn't just make things worse. She's my best friend — my surrogate sister — and I'm so grateful that she was able to join me here. In some ways, I'm selfishly glad that your investigative services were so non-existent. It would have kind of sucked uprooting my entire life to chase you down the top secret rabbit hole. Getting to drag some of my friends with vital skills along with me makes me feel less like a needy little boy, clinging to you amidst all the strangers. Though I made a new friend in Paul, I suppose."

"I— I know that exact feeling," Daniel said quietly. "I, uh, uprooted my life once — well, several times, actually — but the most recent time, the SGC was where I landed. Jack dragged me home — we sat right here, actually, though I think I was in the chair — and he gave me a beer while we waited for the pizza to arrive."

"He's got a way of bringing home strays, I see," Tony grinned.

Daniel grinned back. "That's one way of putting it. But the point was, at the time I had no one, and then I kind of gained Jack. He's become my best friend too. And eventually I gained the rest of SG-1, and my department, and in some ways all of Stargate Command. So I've been down the rabbit hole alone, and I'm glad that you don't have to do it that way. I'm glad that you were able to bring Abby and the others with you. And… and I'm glad that you're here." he admitted the last quietly.

Tony blew out a deep breath. "I'm glad too. I looked… I was actually at a real low point, and was considering finally breaking regs and using our tech to search for your name. Abby's offered before, but I didn't want to run you through the system like some common suspect. But I was so close after K— after everything that went down recently. When Deputy Director Morrow asked to speak with me, I was considering leaving NCIS anyway, giving up, and he… he told me he was going to make me an offer regardless, though that might have just been him blowing smoke. But he put his hand on my wrist, over my band," he looked down and saw that he had unconsciously wrapped his hand around the signatures, the same way he usually cupped the band.

"He put his hand right here and looked me dead in the eye. Said he really hoped I took the job. I was so freaked out I said I needed time to think about it. I was kicking myself five minutes after I left. I couldn't even sleep that night, I had to keep from looking up his private number to call him. I was outside his office at the crack of dawn the next morning. As soon as he arrived I told him yes."

Tony snorted. "He gave me this look like it was never in doubt. It turns out there really is a need for us here, and I'm looking forward to the job. I'd have taken anything, just to know where to find you. If he hadn't hired me, I'd probably have broken regs and searched you, tracked you down to Colorado Springs, quit NCIS, and applied at the local precinct. But I'm glad I'll actually get to work with you. That is— if you want me— we're in Nevada too…"

"I do!" Daniel dove forward and grabbed his hands. "I don't want you in Area 51. I do want you here, at the Mountain. I'm so glad that Director Morrow knew you, and made the connection when he saw my file. I didn't— I don't really believe in the American tendency to cover up wrist marks, though I understand the safety concern with military and police officers. I know some people got upset when they decided to include ours in our medical files, but I didn't mind. I never thought I'd find my soulmate that way. The way things were going, with the Stargate, I was afraid that I'd never meet you, but it's a calling, and I couldn't give it up… I looked a bit, when I could, but…"

"Oh, I have some idea of how busy this place keeps you," Tony offered with a small smirk. "I've got several stacks a few feet high of backlogged files to read through that give me some indication."

"You two make nice?" Jack's voice broke the moment, and made Tony jump.

"Jack!" Daniel complained, glaring at Jack over the short wall.

"It was cold; I wanted a sweatshirt," Jack explained blandly. "So, have you two decided if Tony's sleeping on your couch or mine?"

"I— what?" Daniel blushed again.

"I intended to stay in my bunk at the Mountain," Tony said cautiously, "until things were a little more settled. Then at the end of my last meeting today, Jack just kidnapped me. I assumed I'd catch a ride back, or sleep on his couch. Well, not that I'd given it much thought, because he effectively distracted me by revealing why he was abducting me…"

"I didn't abduct you," Jack complained. "I invited you."

"You commanded me," Tony shot back.

"Semantics," Jack shrugged.

"If I can interrupt this witty banter," Daniel said, drawing them both to smirk at him. "Tony, you're more than welcome to sleep on Jack's couch, which actually is pretty comfortable. But I also have a comfortable couch that you're welcome to use."

Tony schooled his face to keep his racing emotions from showing. He wanted to jump up and cry 'yes!' but he was also freaking out slightly. Was he moving too fast? Too soon? They hadn't even gotten to the mildly bad parts that he was certain would send Daniel running for the hills. Soulmates guaranteed that you were made for each other, not that you'd end up together. He could still say or do the wrong thing and lose his chance with Daniel forever.

On the other hand, he'd wanted this for so long, and now that his romantic movie ending was in sight, he didn't want to lose it. Would Daniel be offended if he said no? Would he be causing problems if he tried to give Daniel his space? Abby would probably smack his arm and say he was overthinking things. Tony took a deep breath and spoke as nonchalantly as he could, "Sure, Daniel, I'll take you up on that couch. I don't have my go bag, though—"

"I had an airman grab it from your base quarters and throw it in my truck," Jack said cheerfully.

"You know that premeditation does not help your case that this isn't an abduction," Tony teased him, relieved.

"Can it really be an abduction if I release you to go with Daniel?" Jack joked back.

"You think handing me off to an accomplice helps your case? It just makes this a conspiracy," Tony laughed.

"Hey, I can't be an accomplice; I didn't know what he was planning." Daniel protested.

"I guess that makes you my knight in shining armor, then," Tony said.

"That makes you a princess," Jack pointed out.

"And you a dragon."

"I like 'dragon' much better than 'abductor'," Jack decided.

"I'm not sure I like 'princess' that much better than 'abductee'…" Tony pondered.

"You know, you wouldn't have to be a princess to have a knight in shining armor, if you picked a different cultural tradition," Daniel said.

"Oh god, now you've done it," Jack complained. "Tony, get him out of here before he starts prattling on about ancient cultures, or something. That's your problem to deal with instead of mine, now."

The words were insulting, but his tone was fond, and glancing at Daniel, Tony saw matching amusement in his eyes, even as he complained, "My knowledge of ancient cultures has saved your life before, Jack, and don't you forget it!"

"Okay, I'll save the big bad dragon from the knight in shining armor," Tony declared. "Is your truck unlocked?"

Jack shook his head, even as Daniel smirked. "Nah, but your bag's in the bed, not the cab."

"Alright. Well, thanks for dinner," Tony walked over to shake his hand. "And thanks for abducting me, I guess."

"You betcha," Jack replied happily, shaking back.

"Yes, thank you, Jack," Daniel said, though he pulled Jack into a quick hug instead of just a handshake. He whispered something in his ear, which Tony assumed was either a reassurance or a further threat of violence for Jack's teasing. The General had a good poker face, though, and was partially turned away from Tony, so he couldn't tell which.

Once they were done, Daniel led Tony to the front entry, where they both pulled on their shoes and jackets. Then Daniel scooped his keys out of the dish — and Tony made a note of how comfortable Daniel was in Jack's house — and led him outside. Tony quickly found his bag in the back of Jack's truck and grabbed it before turning to Daniel's ride. Now that he wasn't as nervous, Tony was able to appreciate the car, even in the dusky light.

"That is a beauty!" he said, approaching it reverently. "1948 Jeepster?"

"Forty nine, but yeah," Daniel agreed. "It was my grandfather's, and he, uh, left it to me."

"I'm sorry. When did he die?" Tony wondered if it had been recently.

"Oh, he's not dead," Daniel said quickly. "At least, I don't think he is. We'll check back in in a year or so. He's on another planet, though, so I have control over his property and things here on Earth."

Tony shook his head, trying to dispel yet another dose of that good old, 'what the hell is my life now?' that the SGC seemed to produce every few hours. "Okay, I'll process that and have questions for you later," he said absently. "In the meantime, she is gorgeous," Tony ran his hand along the raised metal fin running down the center of the hood. "You've even got the classic whitewall tires."

"Uh, yeah," Daniel agreed. "I, uh, don't know much about it. I can only drive it during good weather, which is rare around here. Even in the summer it rains in the afternoon most days. Usually I drive my own Jeep Cherokee: it's a four wheel drive, very practical."

"You don't drive her regularly?" Tony knew he sounded appalled, but he couldn't help it. "Do you do the maintenance?"

Daniel shook his head. "I— I have a mechanic. I'm not r— really a car guy."

"Okay, that stops now," Tony declared. "I'll take care of you, baby," he assured the car quietly. "My first day off, we'll pop your hood and make sure everything's shipshape in there."

"You are, uh, you are aware you're talking to a car?" Daniel asked.

"I'm talking to a classic!" Tony shot back. "You do realize what an important model this is, right? After world war two, Willys released a civilian model of their military jeep, followed by a station wagon, and then a truck, all with the same look. The Jeepster was their fourth model, and it was the first actually made as a passenger car. I'm guessing you don't know if it's got the Go Devil or the Lightning engine?"

Daniel stared at him blankly. "So you like classic cars?" he finally guessed.

Tony snorted. "Love 'em."

"Do you have one?"

Tony felt a pang in his chest. It had gotten better, but he still hadn't forgiven that idiot for killing his baby. "I had a 1990 Corvette ZR1, cherry red. I almost went with black, you know, like Bird on a Wire, but I was a sucker for Prince's Little Red Corvette, so I kept the red. My fourth step-mom bought it for my dad for a present, right before she found out he was cheating on her, so she added the Jr. to the title and gave it to me out of spite. I had just graduated high school and that car let me work all summer to save up for school starting. Freshmen weren't supposed to have cars, but I got a friend who lived locally to keep her at his parent's house. I used her every summer to get to work."

"What happened to it— her?" Daniel asked, as he got into his Jeepster. Tony carefully placed his bag in the back before sliding into the passenger seat.

"Someone stole her about six months ago. Led her on a high speed chase with the police and then crashed her into smithereens. She was all original parts, well maintained. I loved that girl."

"I'm sorry," Daniel said with sincerity, though Tony could tell he still didn't get the big deal in general.

"I'd actually just gotten the insurance money, and used that and my savings to get a 1956 Ford Mustang in the original metallic Dynasty Green. You know, Mustang Sally? I left her at the Base tonight, but Paul already advised me that I'd need something that can handle Colorado winters. One of the things on my to do list is to find a place with a garage, or find a temperature and humidity controlled storage space. Please tell me you take care of this baby during the winter," Tony added, rubbing his hand along the Jeepster's chrome-plated door top.

"I— uh, I do," Daniel agreed. "I had an apartment, originally. And then when Nick — my grandfather — left me in charge of his things, he didn't have a house, but he had a lot of stuff in storage. I moved it all here to the Springs, and then a little while later I had— I— well, let's just say that things at work went wrong…"

"From what little I've already gathered, that seems to happen a lot," Tony said mildly.

"Yeah, well this wrong had me standing on the edge of the balcony of my apartment, on the eighth floor, ready to jump, until Jack saved me."

"Oh my god," Tony involuntarily pressed his hand against his heart. He had wondered more than once if his Daniel had died, before finally finding him, but to hear from him now that it actually had almost happened. "Please tell me you don't almost die on a regular basis?"

Daniel's lips pressed together tightly, but he didn't reply.

"Oh god," Tony repeated. "Now I know how Abby feels every time I get shot."

"You've been shot?" Daniel shot back in the same worried tone.

"Hey, I was a cop, then a federal agent. You probably don't want to read my medical file, if you like not having heart attacks. Though after aliens, catching the pneumonic plague might not shock you that much."

"You had the plague?!" Daniel cried, jerking the wheel.

"Ah, still shocking, even in this context," Tony mused. "I'd wondered. Your CMO was looking at me like the second coming, but I get that from doctors a lot. One of the many reasons I'm not too fond of them. Anyway, in the interests of you not crashing the car, let's go back to what you were saying about your grandfather and your apartment?"

Daniel seemed to have regained his composure, as he just shot Tony a dirty look before continuing. "Well, after that, I suddenly wasn't that fond of my apartment after all. Nick had left me a decent amount of money, plus the furniture and car and all, so I got a little house nearby. It's got this really weird layout where you have to drive around the corner to get to the two-car garage down below, and then come up the stairs inside the house, so I usually park the Jeepster down there, and keep my Cherokee up on the street by the front door. The whole thing is kind of odd — I have no idea what the builders were thinking — but I got it for cheap because of it, and it's really close to the base, which was the main thing I cared about. When I'm driving home after a long mission, I don't want to spend half an hour in traffic, you know?"

"Makes total sense," Tony agreed. "That's been the main reason I've chosen each of my apartments — proximity to work."

They soon arrived, and Daniel circled past what Tony assumed was his Jeep and onto the side street that cut sharpy downwards. Tony could see the garage with what appeared to be a deck running over it, and Daniel quickly pressed the fob on his keys to open the closer door. They pulled in, and Daniel closed the door behind them, while Tony noted the other side had a few racks along the wall with boxes on them, but that the actual space for the second car was empty. He also saw no tools at the built-in workbench, nor on the pegboards above. The racks he recognized as those for holding skis and snowboards were also empty. His eyes scanned the space as Tony turned and grabbed his bag from the backseat. Then he cataloged it all away into his investigator's brain, coming up with someone who didn't have enough belongings to overflow into the garage, didn't take advantage of the local sports, and wasn't inclined towards construction. He'd already established that he didn't go in for working on cars either.

Saying nothing, Daniel led him to the inner door, turning on the lights as he did. It opened onto a mudroom/laundry space, before they hit the stairs at the end. Daniel slipped his shoes off at the foot of the stairs, and Tony copied him, before following him up. At the top was a small window, letting in a yellow glow from the porch light through the blinds, until Daniel flipped on more lights, and the staircase let out right next to the front door. Beyond that was a dining room, which, as they cleared the stairs, Tony could see led to a modest kitchen.

Daniel continued down the hall, passing an open door through which Tony saw a hint of a bedroom, and then another that held a small bathroom. Finally, they reached the living room, across from the kitchen, which had french doors opening onto the back porch. It was too dark by now for Tony to see through either the doors or the kitchen windows, but he assumed the porch probably was big enough for some kind of table and barbecue. "Here we are," Daniel announced, flipping on the overhead and gesturing at the living room. "One couch, as promised."

Tony smiled and dropped his bag on the floor, then laid down on the oversized couch. "This is a real couch!" he crowed, wiggling in. "Big enough for me to actually lay on!"

This prompted a grin from Daniel. "You probably haven't met him yet, but one of our teammates, Teal'c, is a little taller than you. I took him shopping with me when I outfitted this place, and found a couch that would fit him."

"That's impressive," Tony said. "It took me forever to find a couch that fit me; my first two apartments I just did with a smaller one and kind of curled up. It wasn't until Philly — I knew someone who knew some people who helped me get an extra-long, and I've had it ever since. This is great."

"I'm glad it meets with your approval," Daniel joked.

Tony now took the chance to look around the room, seeing the shelves full of books and artifacts, but also a decent sized TV on a small stand, with movies tucked into the closest shelves. Compared to someone like Gibbs, who had a small, rabbit-eared TV in his basement that only got a dozen local channels, this was something Tony could work with. "Not a bad setup at all," he concluded.

Daniel smirked again. "I don't know how tired you are; I gathered that you've been traveling…"

"Oh, after seeing our moving trucks off first thing at the crack of dawn on Friday, Cassie and I had our final day of work and then bunked at Abby's and helped her pack all day Saturday. Then we caught an overnight transpo at Oh dark thirty on Sunday morning, got here at five hundred and caught breakfast and a catnap at Peterson, then met our trucks at the storage unit at eight hundred. We finished in time to grab lunch to go and catch our transpo to California, had meetings and dinner, and caught the twenty-two hundred transpo back to Peterson. I rolled into bed around one hundred, then had to be at the Mountain at six to get through security for the first time. Prelim Medical check, meetings, lunch with Paul, more meetings, and then Jack brought me home for dinner," Tony concluded. "While I'd honestly love to talk more, and while it feels a little silly to be going to bed before nine, I've had about fifteen hours of sleep in four days. I was only getting about four hours a night the week before, too, trying to pack while still working and squeezing in meetings with Morrow and your Brass."

"Wow… that's worse than I'd guessed," Daniel said sympathetically. "Why don't you go brush your teeth and stuff while I get the spare sheets and pillow…"

Tony twitched his legs, but they didn't want to move. "I think I made a mistake lying down already," he joked.

"Okay, come on you big lug," Daniel teased, grabbing Tony's forearm. Tony willingly let himself be tugged to his feet, though with the close quarters of the messy coffee table, they ended up only inches apart once Tony was up. Tony could feel Daniel's breath on his cheek as they stared into each other's eyes. There was a moment when Tony could have pulled back, but he decided to lean in, instead. Daniel closed the last inch, tilting his head up slightly to meet Tony, and then they were kissing.

He wasn't sure which of them opened his mouth first, deepening the kiss, but Tony wrapped his free hand around Daniel's neck as he felt the other man's fall to his lower back. They both tasted of pizza and beer, and Tony caught a hint of coffee from Daniel. Stubble rubbed against his nose, and Daniel's glasses lightly pressed into his cheek. Tony had kissed plenty of people before, both men and women, and despite the way romcom movies made it seem, he had suspected that kissing his soulmate would be just like any other kiss. He didn't expect fireworks, or swelling music, or for it to be the best kiss he'd ever had. He expected it to fall somewhere between fine and awesome.

In that, it exceeded his expectations, by being toe-curlingly, passionately, perfect.

It was interrupted by tingling in their wrists, and Tony pulled back slightly, panting, and glanced at his wrist over Daniel's shoulder. There, beneath the signatures, was a small pair of side-by-side circles, indicating that the soulmates had found each other. If they completed a bonding, they would shift and become linked together. Tony stared at his wrist for a long moment, before his gaze flickered back to Daniel's eyes. They were a crystal blue, with a darker rim, and Tony saw lust, wonder, and a little uncertainty reflected in them.

He decided to break the tension. "Wow. You sure have that hospitality thing down," he joked quietly.

Daniel snorted. "Way to ruin the moment," he joked, giving Tony's hand a gentle squeeze.

Before Tony could reply, he was overcome by a jaw-cracking yawn, and he quickly pulled his hand from Daniel's neck to cover his mouth. "Too tired to take advantage of it," he said once he was able.

"Alright, I'll let you off the hook, for now," Daniel agreed with a smile. "I'll get you those sheets and things." With another squeeze, he released Tony's hand and disappeared to the small closed door between the bedroom and bathroom, and what Tony assumed was a linen closet.

Tony rifled through his bag until he found his toiletries bag and then let himself into the bathroom. He finished quickly, and reemerged in his boxers and undershirt to find that Daniel had made up the couch with dark blue sheets, a matching pillow, and a brightly colored striped blanket. It had a chevron pattern and what looked like a few hieroglyphics, rather than the stereotypical, straight striped, serape style ones he saw in cancún. Tony ran a hand over it as he sat down. "It's softer than I expected," he said. The ones he'd felt before were starchier.

"Alpaca wool," Daniel explained, crossing over from the kitchen with a glass of water, which Tony accepted, taking a quick sip.

"Not from a tourist trap," Tony guessed.

Daniel shook his head with a small smile. "Uh, no. I got it during an expedition to Uxmal. Uh, that's in the Yucatan Peninsula. The Mayans used astronomical guidelines instead of geometric designs to lay it out. It's fascinating, really." Tony was fascinated, but also exhausted, and he couldn't hold back another yawn. "And probably boring, to you," Daniel concluded with a small sigh.

"Not bored, just sleep-deprived," Tony promised. "You can tell me all about it on the drive in tomorrow and I'll actually register what you're saying."

"I'll hold you to that," Daniel said with a smile.

Tony took another sip and then put the glass on the table before climbing under the covers. "I know this is probably the exhaustion talking, but I think this is the most comfortable couch ever," he declared sleepily. Ever since he had laid down earlier, it felt like his day — hell, his week — was catching up with him at lightning speed. He was still working on regaining his stamina, post-plague, so he didn't have the energy to fight against the pull.

"Probably," Daniel sounded like he was smiling again. "I guess I'll have to ask you again when you're awake, some time."

"You do that," Tony agreed, then yawned again. This blanket really was nice and soft, and the pillow smelled like the same fabric softener that Tony used. It was nice that they had that in common, he thought sleepily.

"Goodnight, Tony," Daniel said, turning out the light.

"Night Danny," Tony mumbled back, before falling completely asleep.

Chapter Text

As promised, Tony was cheerful and chipper the next morning — far more so than Daniel, who seemed to need two mugs of coffee to get going. He wasn't quite as bad as Gibbs, from what Tony could tell, but it was somewhat comforting to know that even though a lot had changed, some things were the same. Of course, when Tony took a sip of the cup he'd been offered, he found that Daniel had excellent taste in coffee. Instead of the insanely strong shoe-cleaner that Gibbs preferred, Daniel's stash was a floral Ethiopian blend, according to the label, and very smooth. Tony didn't even mind the lack of hazelnut creamer that he usually had to drown Gibbs's coffee in to make it palatable. A dash of sugar and he was good to go.

Daniel wasn't a cook, however, as his small kitchen had hinted, and other than the coffee press, Tony saw just the standard bachelor staples when he went poking. He couldn't help being nosy — he was an investigator, and naturally curious — and he'd had a few minutes to kill while Daniel was in the shower. Daniel's alarm had gone off just a minute before Tony's, and he'd ceded the shower with a grunt and a wave while he made a bee-line for the already-percolating coffee pot. Once they were both dressed and ready to go — Tony in a suit and Daniel in his BDUs — they had grabbed their shoes from downstairs and then headed out to Daniel's Jeep Cherokee.

"No covered parking at the Mountain," Daniel explained as he locked the front door. "I don't like to bring the Jeepster there unless I'm sure it won't rain. We're forecasted to get some early summer showers pretty much every day this week."

"I understand," Tony agreed. Though the Jeepster had a soft top, it didn't actually have side windows, so the slightest angle of wind would see rain pouring down inside of it. Daniel's Cherokee was a neutral dark blue, with tan leather seats, and Tony found the passenger seat already pushed back far enough for him to fit his long legs. "Teal'c again?" he asked, pleased not to have his knees pulled up to his chin.

"Yeah," Daniel laughed. "He tried to fit in Sam's little sedan once and never again. Once he got his driver's license, he got this big black SUV. Jack said he looked like he was going for the MIB look—"

"Evil government agents — usually villains — driving a string of black SUVs: classic movie trope," Tony agreed.

"Yep," Daniel agreed, "though I still don't think Teal'c understands the reference. Anyway, he wanted something roomy. He doesn't mind this, though the Jeepster is tight on him; he prefers to sit sideways in the back. I noticed the same on you: I'm surprised you drive a classic car. They're not known for their legroom."

Tony shrugged. "They aren't, but they're worth it. If I had a job where I was driving my own car more frequently, I'd probably get something more practical, but we always checked sedans out of the motorpool, or drove the gear truck, so it wasn't an issue. As I understand it, I'll only be driving to and from the base, for the most part, so I won't be spending hours cramped in my car here either."

"That's true," Daniel acknowledged. "We tend to do mostly walking when we're offworld. The occasional spaceship."

They pulled into a local coffee joint that had a pretty nice looking breakfast menu and only two cars ahead in the drive thru. Used to DC traffic, Tony was very impressed. After ordering two breakfast burritos, on Daniel's advice, and two coffees, they pulled back out and were at the base just as Tony finished his meal. Daniel hadn't been able to eat except at lights, so they sat in the car for a few more minutes as he polished off his burrito.

As they got out of the Jeep, Tony looked at his watch. "Wow, you really do live close to the base. We didn't even have time for you to explain about your trip to Uxmal and why they laid everything out differently."

"Y— you were listening?" Daniel seemed shocked.

"Well sure," Tony shrugged. "Exhausted, not bored, remember?" He smiled brightly. "I haven't gotten to read anyone's files yet, but from conversation I know you're an archeologist, so I assume you can tell me all kinds of fascinating things about the digs you've been on — you are the kind that does digs? I thought I saw a picture on your bookshelf of you in the desert with some kind of trowel and brush."

"Uh… uh, yes. Yes I do go— well, I used to. Uh, before the Stargate. I used to go on digs." They had reached security and had to pause their conversation while they signed in, but resumed once they were in the elevator.

"Good, then you can tell me all about it once we have time," Tony agreed. He wondered briefly if Daniel's doctorate was in archeology, but as they weren't alone in the elevator he didn't feel comfortable asking. Two of the others got out before they reached level 11, where they navigated the final security checkpoint before getting into the second elevator. Tony was headed for Level 17, where his office was supposed to be, and he noticed that Daniel had pushed the button for 18. The others were headed to 13, which Tony vaguely recalled as being berthing. As soon as they were off and he was alone with Daniel again, Tony asked, "Are you busy this morning?"

"Uh, somewhat," Daniel said. "I've got a meeting first thing with my department that should last about an hour, but after that I'll have some time to work on a few translations."

"Gotcha," Tony said. "I guess you might be free at lunch, then?"

"Oh, oh!" Daniel said. "Yeah. What are you doing this morning?"

"Organizing our space," Tony said quickly.

"Well, I— I can do that translation later," Daniel said. "If you, uh—"

"I'd love to have some company," Tony said quickly.

"Great!" Daniel smiled, as the doors opened on 17. "I guess I'll see you after my meeting, then."

"Sounds good!" Tony agreed, getting out. The elevator doors closed behind him, and he slumped slightly. He was a natural flirt! He should be far more suave and charming than this! He shook off his self-flagellation fairly quickly, however. He had gotten himself a date! An organizing date, but still. Tony glanced down the hall, trying to recall the directions Paul had given him yesterday.

"Okay, my office is 15B: left, right, then second door on the left," he muttered, turning smartly to the left and following the corridor. He'd learned to navigate on Naval ships; he wouldn't be defeated by a Mountain!

A little over an hour later, just after nine, Tony heard a knock on his door. "Enter?"

"Hello?" Daniel poked his head in the office.

"Hey there!" Tony greeted him happily. "I see you found my office!"

"Well, having your name on the door certainly helps," Daniel teased.

"I'm sure it does!" Tony grinned. "One thing that never fails to impress me: how the Brass can take forever to decide something, and then the worker bees get it taken care of in what seems like seconds. Morrow sent me an email just after nine DC time saying that they'd had an early morning meeting and decided on our name. And by eight, Colorado time, Sergeant Augustino here had it painted on my door for me! Yes, there was a wet paint sign taped up, but their turnaround time is outstanding!"

"Augustino?" Daniel questioned. He didn't seem to recognize the sergeant by name.

"Logistics and supply officer," Tony explained, waving a hand around at his office, encompassing the desk, visitor's chairs, empty bookcase, two tall file cabinets, and computer setup. "He said he's responsible for supplying the furniture, arranging each room, and labeling the doors. I think he was also the one who coordinated our specialty construction, not just the cosmetics. I mean, these guys are on top of their stuff!"

"Technical Sergeant Peters dropped by to assure me that all of our computers and screens are hooked up, and gave me a schedule for my folks to get their logins and passwords set up. We're going to do it on Wednesday as each of them check in. Staff Sergeant Finney from quartermaster's come by and assured me that all of our standard office supplies will be delivered and put away before dinner, and apologized that they weren't done already, but we had bad timing related to the weekly supply run and several things had been backlogged because of some explosion last week that took out a storeroom and decimated their usual stock."

"Oh yeah," Daniel nodded, "A drone in the maintenance bay on 24 was triggered accidentally and shot through the wall into the storeroom next door. I guess that was the office supply storeroom?"

"So they tell me," Tony said. "But since we aren't even due to report until Wednesday, I assured her that I didn't mind waiting until lunch to get my paperclips and highlighters. And then Technical Sergeant James reported in that they had all the recording equipment ready to set up in our interrogation rooms, but since they had to knock out part of the wall to install the observation windows, those rooms were only repainted yesterday, so his crew wasn't able to set up until today, but they'll be done by five."

"I had Technical Sergeant Chapman in here next to let me know that a squad of Airmen moved all the records we'd requested down and put them in our file cabinets, and were at my disposal to return any we didn't need. And right after him was Major Randolph with an update on our specialty lab equipment, the last of which should be here by the end of business today, and set up overnight. I guess she's the one that got put in charge of getting everything squared away for me. Paul's been sending her blueprints and plans and lists, and she's been directing her crew in making it all happen. I swear to god she had a schedule drawn up to bombard me with Sergeants all morning, and I haven't even had a chance to check out our labs or anything."

"You sound overwhelmed," Daniel said.

"I am, but at the same time amazed. We've been sending our specs in bits and pieces over the last few days, but none of these people even knew they were going to be creating our department until two weeks ago at the earliest and we don't even report to security until tomorrow. They have another week before we need to use these spaces, and they're already almost done! I wasn't impressed with some of the things I heard coming in, but I'm in awe of Randolph and your quartermaster and logistics staff."

"Anything I can help with?" Daniel offered.

"You could keep me from getting lost, for starters? I theoretically know where everything is on the blueprints, but I still want to go exploring so I can finish my mental map of what it really looks like," Tony said. "If I can escape without any more Sergeants tracking me down!" They both laughed.

A knock on his door made Tony freeze, and he flashed Daniel a look of feigned fear. "Come in!" he called. Paul Davis stuck his head in the door, and Tony pantomimed wiping sweat from his brown. "Oh thank god, you aren't another Sergeant with an update. By all means, come in!"

Paul laughed and slipped the rest of the way into his office. "Hey Tony, Dr. Jackson. I see you two have met. And I see that you, Tony, have been exposed to the well-oiled machine that is Logistics here."

"I have indeed," Tony agreed. "We were just about to go on a tour. Would you like to join us?"

"I came down to let you know the verdict on the name, but I see you've already gotten that," Paul explained. "In lieu of that, I'd love a tour. Deputy Director Morrow and General Hammond want an update on our progress, so I'll be able to tell them what I've seen and what's still left to do."

"So what did you name it?" Daniel asked. "I mean, I know it said SGSI: SAC on the door above your name, but what does that stand for?"

"Well, SAC is my title: Special Agent in Charge. The rest was one of my acronym suggestions, but I think they also took some of my naming advice," Tony laughed. "Out in the real world, it stands for Strategic Global Special Investigations. That way, when we're out around town chasing down missing Zats or whatever, we have a nice friendly name to tell people that doesn't give anything away. But everyone in the Program will assume it stands for Stargate Special Investigations, which it really does."

"That was the general idea behind the name, yes," Paul agreed. "General Hammond let me know, and I've been in contact with our printers. The mock up business cards will be done by lunch, and you'll help me pick the one you want. We've been given discretion to pick something respectable. Once I get back to them this afternoon, they'll be able to whip out the first batch of cards by the end of the day, for those names we already have. We've also decided to configure an email server and give you all internal email addresses; you can have your various work emails forwarded, but this way the cards will have a uniform style, and the crew on base here won't have to remember which agency you originally worked for to figure out which extension to use."

"No complaints here," Tony agreed easily. "I'm all for streamlining and simplification. Work smarter, not harder."

"Exactly," Paul agreed cheerfully. "Now, shall we?"

"We shall," Tony agreed, grabbing his ubiquitous legal pad and a pen. He already had a list of things to check on, things that should have already been done, and questions to ask, as well as a copy of the blueprints that he and Gloria had created when they were first designing the Unit. "As you can see, this is my office, with furniture, electronics, and records, but no office supplies or decor yet. Or snacks." Tony had already asked for a small cabinet, dresser, or half-size file cabinet that he could use for storage. He might not need the full go bag and several changes of clothes that he'd kept in his drawers at NCIS, what with having a room somewhere and storage space in the team bunkroom one floor up, but he did have some things that he couldn't squeeze in with the mass of records currently, like a single outfit, snacks to keep his blood sugar up, something to keep his hands busy, and other odds and ends.

They filed out of his office and turned to the right. "Cynthia's in 15A, the first office after the corner here," Tony said, pointing to the name on the door before opening it. They peeked in and found it set up identically to Tony's. "She's got the exact same as me," he explained. "And around the corner… yup!"

He opened 14B and found a much larger office with double of everything that had been in his and Cynthia's, plus several rows of file cabinets. "Home of our Records clerks. I only hope they've got enough storage here, but the next room is supposed to be the same size and empty, so if need be we can expand." Shutting the door, he consulted his map again.

"Then back where we came from and across the hall here," he pointed to the door that was across the hall and just past his own, with 'SGSI: Boardroom' painted on it, "is our conference room."

Tony popped open the door to show off the large circular table with a dozen chairs, white board, flat screen, and coffee nook. "I made a note that we need some kind of cabinet to keep office supplies in here, and a few surge protectors so we can hook up all our laptops if needed," he explained.

"It looks nice," Daniel said.

"Yep, kinda like that briefing room I saw downstairs yesterday, but without the big window. Very fancy," Tony agreed as they backed out. "Down past me is our first team bullpen," he showed them the door marked 'SGSI: Alpha Bullpen.' Inside were four desks set facing each other in a tight grouping, with half-height cubicle walls between them. Each one had a computer and phone on top, and a file cabinet placed behind them. On the far wall another flat screen and white board were mounted, On each side wall, between the file cabinets, were empty bookshelves. A small cabinet that Tony had designated for office supplies and a small weapons locker were straddling the door.

Agents were used to storing their weapons in their desks, while the SGC was used to storing everything in the armory. The weapons locker was a compromise that Tony had agreed to last week. For a bullpen, it was just what they needed, though Tony jotted a note that he needed his phone here to use the same extension as his phone in his office. "The Bravo Bullpen should be right next door and identical," he added as they left, waving his hand at the appropriate door. They quickly peeked into it and found that he was correct.

"Across the way in 'Investigative Support' we've got our support staff," Tony said. "Looks like our bullpens." The bookshelves and file cabinets cramming the walls made it seem as small as the bullpens, though Tony knew it was a slightly bigger space, like their Boardroom. There were four desks in the center in the same configuration as the bullpens, and a single whiteboard was jammed against the far wall, between two pairs of file cabinets. A flat screen was hanging behind the door, where the weapons locker would be in the team bullpens, but the supply cabinet was the same. Every surface was covered in file boxes. "As you can see, the paperwork fairy has blessed this space already," Tony joked.

They backed out of the room and Tony consulted his blueprints again. "If we hang a right, we should have the lawyers…"

"JAG said they'd be sending four of them, not including the second Mrs. Bromstead," Paul read off his PDA.

They turned right, and found four rooms in a row labeled with 'SGSI: Legal' and no name below it. Glancing inside showed them to be identical to Cynthia and Tony's offices. "They do have a good grasp of our basic needs," Tony noted approvingly.

"Around this corner is the conference room we decided was for JAG, correct?" Paul asked, looking over Tony's shoulder at the blueprints as they finished poking their heads into the fourth office.

Tony ducked his head around the corner. "Looks like it; they've called it SGSI: Legal Support," Tony pointed out the paint job before opening the door to reveal an identical setup to the Investigative Support office. "Is four desks enough?" he asked Paul.

"They said the four lawyers would need individual offices, and also four support staff/paralegals, who could share," Paul read off of his PDA. "And three of each to Area 51 with the same needs."

"Oh, okay," Tony nodded. He knew that there shouldn't be anything else down this section of hall — they'd expanded into the space to accommodate JAG, but hadn't planned for it originally, so he consulted his blueprints again. "If we backtrack to the junction, and go straight, we should find evidence processing and storage," he said. They trooped back towards the bullpens and quickly found the correct rooms. Tony opened the first, Evidence Processing, and found a space roughly double the size of the bullpens. It had two long metal tables down the center, and metal racks in the back and along three of the walls. On either side of the door were two desks, where his evidence technicians would sit, and each of them had a file cabinet behind them. At the moment, the tables and racks were empty.

"I guess I'll need to check on the evidence supplies and investigative gear," Tony mused, noting it on his pad.

"What is this room actually for?" Daniel asked, eyeing the racks.

"Well, it serves two purposes," Tony explained. "The first is for our investigative gear. The racks near the front will have our gear bags, with things like gloves, cameras and sim cards, tweezers, scrapers, evidence markers, caution tape, fingerprinting kits, boatloads of evidence bags in a few different sizes, vials and jars for liquid samples, zip ties, labels, magnifying glasses, rulers, sketchbooks, things like that. Not to mention a bunch of different office supplies that we might need on a scene; pencils, tape, and what have you. The Baggie Bunnies — Evidence Techs, officially — are responsible for restocking the bags, but we also make Probies do it, if we've got any. And every Agent needs to check theirs before they go; if something's missing it's on them. Usually, we'd have an evidence truck full of gear too, but inside a mountain that's not really a thing." He grinned.

"The second purpose is for when we return. We'll have large plastic bins that we put the evidence bags in, and the Bunnies are responsible for cataloging everything we bring in. Then it'll all get stored on the shelves. Whenever an Agent needs to look at a piece of evidence, or we need to send it to autopsy or forensics, the techs will sign it out to us. As long as a case is active, the evidence stays here, under their watchful eye. Once a case is closed, everything'll get packed into file boxes and taken next door to Evidence Storage."

"Wow," Daniel said as they headed back out. "You guys really treat this stuff seriously."

"We do," Tony said neutrally. He knew that SG-1 tended to be the ones doing investigations in the past, including Daniel, and he didn't want to imply that their work had been as sub-par as it felt to a trained investigator. That would not be the right way to start things off with his soulmate.

"And here's storage," Tony said, opening the second door. This room was as big as the one before, and filled entirely with long racks. "We should have a bunch of file boxes coming; I'm guessing they're caught up in our office supply order," Tony noted. He wasn't sure if the Bunnies would want to handle sign-outs in here — probably — in which case they'd need another desk and computer, or if they'd want to haul things back to the processing room. He made a note on his pad to ask Bethany once she had looked over the space.

"Is that everything on this level?" Paul asked, scrolling through some notes on his PDA.

Tony consulted the blueprints. "Other than the copy room," he said, "which is back by the elevator." They found it — helpfully labeled 'SGSI: Supplies' — across from Cynthia's office, though the door was in the other corridor just down from the elevator. From the size, it was obviously a converted office, but now it held a copy machine, printer, fax machine, small table and chair, and a tall cabinet for supplies. "They offered to let us use the administrative copy room up on Level 2, but I didn't want to go through two different elevators every time I had to print a report," Tony snarked, "so we were very generously allowed to commandeer this empty office."

"I was wondering why none of the offices or bullpens had printers," Daniel said.

"Yeah, I figured if we were able to all network into this one, it wouldn't be so far to walk," Tony nodded. "If someone finds that they're just coming over here twenty times a day, they might get their own personal printer, but for most of us we only need it or the fax machine once or twice a day, and I for one don't mind a few extra steps to stretch my legs at that point."

"Makes sense to me," Daniel agreed.

"Yes, you put a lot of thought into your layout," Paul agreed as they headed for the elevator.

Passing the next office, Tony noted that it was also marked as SGSI: Legal, and assumed that it was set aside for Mrs. Bromstead.

"Wait, you did this? I mean, picked the rooms and everything?" Daniel said, surprised.

"Yeah," Tony resisted the urge to squirm in embarrassment and busied himself pressing the button for level 16 instead. "I've taken classes in the past where we had an assignment to create a new precinct, and I applied the principles to the idea of creating a resident unit once I joined NCIS. My professor from that class actually consulted with me on the SGSI. Paul here sent us the redacted blueprints for the relevant levels, just showing room dimensions and which spaces were empty: that kind of thing. I had made a list of our needs, and Gloria helped me find a convenient place for everything. In some ways we're more spread out than at NCIS, where the DC office is only five floors, but compared to the FBI office there, which is 11, NCIS is tiny. Because you've already got HR up on level 2, it makes sense to slot our HR person up there, instead of putting her down here on 17. Same idea for Autopsy, which is going on 21 next to medical and your existing morgue. But for the most part, we're clustered here on 16 and 17. The brig and holding cells were already on 16, so it might have made more sense to put all of our stuff there, but that floor didn't have enough empty space, and 17 did. Plus, we'll be using your Ceremonial Hall on 17 for our courtroom, so we already would have had JAG down here."

"You did put a lot of thought into this," Daniel said admiringly.

Tony shrugged. "I've been in precincts that are the size of a shoebox, and have to send out for just about everything, and I've been at NCIS where it's all polished and built from the ground up. Given the chance to create my own space, I wanted it to work for my people as much as possible. We might run into things down the road, where we realize that someone needs more space, or there's a better location for something, but for the most part, yeah. I bribed Gloria with her favorite pho and we spread all over her dining table and did our best to fill everyone's needs. I'm still impressed with your guys for setting it all up, though. I imagine this space has been swarming with airmen, marines, and sergeants yelling at them all, all week long."

They had arrived on level 16, and found, as promised, his people set up in the first two offices across from the elevator. "6B should be our Forensic Accountant's office, and 6A is for our Interview Technician/Transcriber," he said, noting that they had been labeled exactly that. A quick peek inside showed the same standard office layout they'd encountered before, and Tony made a quick note, once they filled those positions, to see if either one needed something extra, like another file cabinet or a small table or shelf for the recording equipment.

"You're bringing your own accountant?" Daniel asked.

"Not quite," Tony explained. "For general accounting, meaning purchasing our supplies and whatnot, we're using the department that comes with the Mountain. A forensic accountant is basically a cross between an accountant, a forensic tech, and a cyber geek. They do things like track down money trails, look for warning flags where someone's cooked the books, tell us if we're looking at embezzlement or a decimal error… that kind of thing. The FBI's got whole offices full of them, and we had a small department at the DC NCIS office. A lot of police precincts don't have one, because it's a highly specialized field, like profiling, and we'd usually borrow a Bureau boy if we needed it."

"But Deputy Morrow and I discussed it, and since there's already been some evidence of creative bookkeeping from your NID problem, not to mention a backlog of a decade's worth of accounting, requisitions, and so on to go through, it made sense to have one. Plus if we're looking for someone who's been turned and taking bribes to smuggle tech out of Area 51, we'll need someone who knows how to follow the money. I'm starting with one Forensic Accountant at each base, but I might increase to two if they tell me they need it. You guys may not have the kind of homicide rates we'd see back home, but I get the feeling I'm going to be using the word "paper trail" in my sleep."

"I hadn't thought about that, but now that you explain it it makes perfect sense," Daniel said. "That's exactly the kind of person we could have used when we were trying to figure out who the NID mole was… uh, repeatedly."

Tony grinned sympathetically. "Yeah, probably." Then he consulted his blueprints again. "As I understand it, you've already got a command bunker and monitoring station here in the center, and we just piggybacked our baby MTAC onto that." He turned left and led them down the hall, arriving at the room that was positioned mirror image to their Bravo bullpen.

"Okay, I understood about half of that," Daniel joked.

"Sorry," Tony laughed, then pointed him at the lab marked as 'SGSI: War Room' "Right in there. At NCIS we'd call this MTAC, for Multiple Threat Assessment Center. Basically it functions as a place for us to video conference to the outside world. If we've got people out in town, I could monitor them from here, and lead foreign operations. When I need to check back in with NCIS or AFOSI Brass, I'd use the camera and screen to video-conference. It gives you that 'in person' touch without the fuss of flying back to DC. And I'll be able to contact Area 51 and Antarctica the same way." Daniel nodded his understanding as Tony swiped open the door. They entered and found monitors and stations along one wall, a small conference table and chairs, and a shelf full of electronic equipment. "See, the office supply fairy is late, but the electronics fairy has come through," Tony declared.

"I'd pay to watch you call Sergeant Siler that to his face," Paul muttered.

"Eh, people love me," Tony shrugged. "I'm sure they won't mind."

"Oh, I'd pay to watch it too," Daniel agreed.

Tony waved off their concern as he poked at the electronics on the shelves. He found remotes, headsets, video cameras, and a tripod, but none of the personal coms that his field team would use, nor a phone. He noted the missing supplies on his pad, as well as a request for maps and a white board. If he was going to use this room to keep up with Derek's team, he'd need a way to track incidents, and he might need a way to diagram out something while video conferencing, and for that he much preferred a white board to a small piece of paper. He also looked at the wall of monitors, but he didn't know enough to say if there were any cameras amidst the screens, so he made a note for Jace to tackle that once he arrived.

"Okay," he dusted off his hands. "Our next stop should be right next door."

Paul and Daniel obediently exited, holding the door open for him, and Tony backtracked the way they had come, to the room mirroring their Alpha bullpen. They did indeed find 'SGSI: Cyber Operations' written on that door. Inside was a familiar looking bullpen, but with extra electronics placed on the desktops, and most of the bookshelves and weapons locker replaced with equipment racks. They also had a white board and two display plasmas. "I don't know what half of this is," Tony admitted cheerfully, "So I'll wait for Jace to come and tell me what's missing."

Jace, Abby, and himself would need to make some decisions about where to store things like personnel coms and radios — here or in the bullpens — and Jace or Pamela would probably want to fiddle with all of their computers to get the correct programs and security in place, but Tony fully intended to leave that all to them, rather than messing with it himself. He wasn't quite the neophyte he pretended around McGee, but Tony knew when to step out of the way of the experts.

Tony started back down the hall, then stopped and backtracked. There were two office doors, the mirror of himself and Cynthia, but on this floor they had the same label, and the 'A' and 'B' had been painted over, designating them both just as room 28. He checked his blueprints, but he hadn't put anything down in this space. Looking back at the doors, which were labeled 'SGSI: Server Room', he then glanced at his companions. "Paul?"

Paul was already scrolling through his PDA. "Pamela Miller requested it," he said after a minute. "She said to forward it to my local computer person and they'd know what to do. I forwarded her message to Lt Colonel Carter and Master Sergeant Siler, who assured me they knew what she was talking about and would take care of it. I saw another note somewhere about knocking out a wall, so my guess is they combined the two offices into one space."

"Gotcha. I'll leave that for her and Jace, then," Tony decided, skipping the room. He knew enough from his few computer classes that servers were a tech thing, but he had no interest in delving further into that topic than he had to, as long as he had experts to handle it. "One less thing for me to worry about."

"Now back across the hall were the interrogation rooms, I believe…" Skipping the first door to the right of the elevator, he pointed to the second. "Yep, right where the blueprints said they should be." 'SGSI: Observation 1' was on that door, and inside Tony found a long thin table with a chair at the end, waiting for the equipment he'd been promised. He jotted a quick note on his pad to ask about tall stools for Agents to watch at the window. Philly had that set up, but nowhere else he'd been did, and Tony appreciated the chance to sit while watching. He hadn't been positive what size table they'd get for this space, and so wasn't sure if he'd be able to fit them in on the initial supply list, but it was now clear that he could fit two or three on each side.

The windows on either side were perfect, however, and though the place smelled of fresh paint, it was generally ready. After making a quick note to check that they were up to his specifications and bulletproof, Tony continued his inspection. Through the windows he could see the flanking Interrogation rooms, which were Interview 1 and 2, according to the doors.

These also had a table and two chairs, and Tony quickly ducked inside to check on them. As he'd requested, there was a handcuff loop welded on the far side, and the tables were bolted down to the floor. Back in the hall they passed Observation 1, Interview 2, and Interview 3, and peeked into Observation 2, where Tony found no differences.

Skipping Interview 4, they came upon the four remaining individual holding cells, which Tony had made no changes to, and then the guarded door that led to the two large cage-like brig cells. The cells, like every other door he'd encountered so far, used an electronic reader to open, and Tony's card had thus far allowed him to unlock every door tagged SGSI. He made a note to speak to the head of security about what rooms each member of his Unit should have access to.

"Finally, something you didn't have to build," Daniel joked as they left the brig.

"No, but I'm guessing that the rebranding is new," Tony replied as he checked it off on the blueprints. The smell of fresh paint permeated the hall, and he had noticed that the holding cell doors had also seen SGSI added to their numbers. Having added the brig to his mental walkthrough, Tony turned back the way they had come, checking the rooms on the other side this time.

"You originally had five individual-sized holding cells, and we had to commandeer the last one for our final interrogation room, but that can be used as a temporary holding space anyway; all four of them can." Tony explained. "Then we've got these three larger holding cells that can fit a whole team — nothing changed with them either, except the former number four…"

They were back at the end, at room 27A, just before the corner suite that was now the Server room. Popping open the door to the bunkhouse, Tony took in the three bunk beds that had already been there, and the clutter of 8 footlockers spread throughout the room. "Oh, good, they already added the footlockers and emergency shower."

The shower was one of the small, decontamination ones, installed in the far corner near the door to the toilet. A set of towel racks was bolted between the shower and the existing sink, and on the other side of it appeared to be a mounted rod that you might find in a closet. "What's all that for?" Daniel asked.

"Well, a lot of the time when we're on a hot case, we've ended up catching a few winks in the office before going back to work," Tony said. "Or we come back from dumpster diving covered in muck and have to use the gym showers — everyone keeps a few spare clothes in their desk or locker. Even though everyone is technically entitled to a berthing in the Mountain, I'm sure many of our couples will be living in town. There's also the possibility that we, as a team, will encounter some kind of contagion or contaminant and need to be quarantined. We'll hot rack it—"

"What?" Daniel and Paul exchanged bemused glances.

"Oh, right, Air Force. Uh, on Navy ships, when you have more people than berths, you hot rack it," Tony explained. "While you work your 8 hour shift, your bunkmate sleeps in the bunk. If you're really lucky, the two of you're on a 12 hour rotation, expecting you to be eating or whatever for the other four hours. If you're unlucky, it's a triple bunk, and you've only got your 8 hours to sleep in it. Called 'hot' because the bunk is still warm from the other guy's body heat."

"In practice, what it means for us is that the room sleeps four, but both of our teams will use it. All eight of us will keep a spare change of clothes and a toiletry bag here. Some of our other folks like Abby or Gerald might beg space in someone's footlocker for a spare, or hang it on the closet rod. If someone's got enough need, we can always add a footlocker for them. Then, if they don't have a place to sleep in the Mountain, or just don't feel able to catch the elevator up four floors and find their room in the warren, they can just crash out in the hot bunk here."

"It'll kind of function like a combination of the dorm and day room in a fire station; a place for us to relax or nap as needed. Like I said, we've got the decontamination shower, though we could also use it like a normal one. And the table gives us a place to decompress that isn't the bullpen or conference room. Usually it'd be a space to eat, but you've got that little emergency mess down the hall already. Anyway, all told it's way better than dropping Moo Shu Pork on your evidence, or sleeping curled up beneath your desk, which I've done more times than I can count, or on one of the tables in Autopsy, which was Gibbs's preference." Tony shuddered theatrically, but noticed Paul looking stricken.

"You'd sleep in Autopsy?" He asked, eyes wide.

Tony had finished his inspection, and it was the last room on his blueprints, so as he explained he closed the door and led them back to the elevator, intending to reconvene in his office. "Not in the drawers, of course, but on the dissection tables, sure. I mean, they scrub and sterilize the hell out of those tables — they're cleaner than our desks, technically, which we barely ever run over with a cloth, let alone bleach. You could eat off of them, which I've also done once or twice. I usually only slept on them when I was sick or injured, though: like I said I preferred my desk."

"If you were sick or injured, why didn't you go home? Or— or to th— the hospital!" Daniel asked, upset.

Tony shrugged. "You'd have to meet Gibbs — my old boss — to understand. The other teams would do it too, though. When you're working a kidnapping, for instance, or something else time sensitive, you don't want to go home, because a break could come at any second. But you also need to sleep, eventually, and the compromise is to sleep at the office. Gibbs just pushed us into that kind of mindset for cases that weren't as crucial — it was one of his traits I don't intend to copy. But generally speaking, it would be pretty common for you to stick around even when injured."

"Let's say you were chasing a suspect and sprained your ankle while tackling him. You'd see the EMTs or Ducky — that's our ME, but he was a trained Doctor before that, so a lot of us just had him treat us — and you'd get your ankle wrapped and get your crutches. Then you'd come back and watch while they ran the suspect through interrogation. If you were lucky and he actually did it, you'd go back to your desk and type up your reports, then head home for the night. If he ended up not being the right perp, you'd limp back to your desk and try to find another lead."

"I'm not talking about injury like a bullet hole in your side — we usually went to the hospital for those," Tony ignored Daniel's quiet outburst of "Usually?" and continued, "and rarely came back to the office before the next day, but for smaller stuff: sprains, cracked ribs, concussions… that kind of thing — that was just business as usual."

"Y— y— you do realize that's insane!" Daniel stumbled out as they reached Tony's office.

Tony shrugged again and waved at them to take the two seats in front of his desk. "I mean, I know Gibbs was a bit of a hard ass about that kind of thing, but you can ask any of the other agents, and they'll have their own stories about doing the same. I'm sure that you— hell, you're surrounded by military types! Paul, I know you spend most of your time behind a desk, but you went through some kind of Basic. They all teach you to ignore the pain and press on until the job's done, right? Daniel, I'm sure Jack's done that more than once."

Daniel sighed loudly. "Alright, yes, he has, but that was on an alien planet with lives at stake! Sur— surely when you're safe on Earth, in an office building—"

"Bad guys are bad guys," Tony said. "Humans are just as likely to shoot us, and they won't wait politely for you to go spend the night at the hospital before striking again."

"He's not wrong," Paul said evenly.

"God, you're just as bad as Jack," Daniel moaned quietly.

"Nah, he's Chair Force, and I was trained by a Marine," Tony grinned brightly. "I'm probably worse."

Since it was almost lunchtime, Paul and Daniel decided to accompany Tony down to the mess, with a small detour to levels 20 and 21 so he could check out Forensics and Autopsy. The former had caused a bit of discussion, but ultimately levels 19 and 20 were already outfitted with the kind of ventilation and advanced fire suppression systems that Abby's lab would need. Most of the labs on 19 were claimed already, but those on 20 tended to be empty.

Level 20 also contained the manufacturing department, which Tony didn't see them needing that often, and, more relevantly, the small shooting range on base. For longer distances and larger groups, he'd been told that they used the facilities next door (and topside) at Peterson Air Force Base. But, in instances when someone was returning to duty from the injured roster, they would often use the small range on 20 for their basic requals. What it meant for Tony was that there was already a range in place, and it was relatively easy to take over the identically shaped room next to it to make a small ballistics lab.

As he expected, the range part of the lab was already set up, including a small weapons locker that Abby could keep example guns and evidence locked in. The other long side held the expected tables, but the equipment was still missing, as Tony had been warned. Down the hall he found Abby's actual lab, which currently only contained a bunch of empty tables and a computer. Tony jotted a note to ask about her own printer, and if the small sample refrigerators were coming with the other equipment or not. He had toyed with the idea of placing a Caf-Pow dispenser on their 'must haves' list, — he even thought Morrow would probably approve it! — but had ultimately decided against it. He'd talk to Abby and see what they could do about her caffeine addiction without getting too out of hand in the requisition department.

Those were the only additions on Level 20, so the trio quickly made their way down a floor to the medical suite. Tony had been there the day before for his initial check in, so he had a decent handle on the layout. Between that and Paul's notes, they were easily able to find the existing Morgue, and the isolation room beside it that had been reserved for an Autopsy. Tony had expected that space to be nearly done, and was surprised to find the room echoingly empty. A quick glance at Paul gave him no hints, so he made a note to ask around.

That done, they used the stairs to head to the Mess on Level 22. Because of their positions, Daniel and Tony were both considered Officers for these purposes, so they followed Paul into the smaller Officer's Mess instead of the much larger Enlisted and Civilian one. Jack was sitting alone at a four person table and waved them over, so they grabbed their trays and joined him.

"So how's it going?" Jack asked as soon as they were seated.

Tony glanced at Daniel, who shrugged, so he started in on his spaghetti while Daniel spoke. "I had a good meeting with my department this morning," he said. "Hagman and Lindsey are almost finished with their translations, so we should be able to schedule that trip back to PBX-259 as early as next week."

"Great," Jack said with false enthusiasm.

"As you know, I conferenced in on a few meetings back in DC," Paul said, taking his turn to bait the General. "We've finalized some decisions about the new SGSI department; I've passed those on to Tony."

"Uh-huh," Jack replied.

"I found my office and was bombarded by a parade of Sergeants, but other than that it's been quiet," Tony said. "You know, as an Italian I'll always disparage mass-produced pasta and jarred sauce, but with that caveat, this isn't as bad as I expected. Way better than the Constellation." Seeing three blank looks, he elaborated. "The USS Constellation? The aircraft carrier? I did my fortnight introduction to the Agent Afloat position aboard her. Most of the food was alright, but anything that needed pasta or rice was a disaster. I don't know if the Petty Officers in the galley were really inattentive, or just clueless, but everything was either boiled for way too long, or barely at all."

"Oh fer crying out loud!" Jack burst out. Tony hid a smile for his successful baiting. "How's it going?" Jack prodded.

Tony glanced at Daniel, who had a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Uhhh, I thought we already answered that, Jack?" he asked innocently.

"You two know what I meant," Jack insisted, pointing his fork at Daniel and then Tony.

"Are you asking something, General?" Paul asked, hiding a smirk behind his cup. Tony was fairly certain that he'd — if not seen their files — at least worked out the basics. He might not have known that Tony's soulmate was specifically Daniel until he saw them together in Tony's office that morning — why else would he be there? — but he clearly knew something.

"No," Jack growled, reminding Tony a little of Gibbs, though there wasn't nearly enough annoyance or anger coloring his tone. "But come on!" he complained, shifting instantly to sound more like a teenager.

Daniel cracked first, giving Tony a small smile. "Things are going fine, Jack."

"It'll go better once I catch up to this time zone and my body stops telling me it's bedtime right after dinner," Tony joked.

"That's the worst part of bouncing between here and DC," Paul agreed, with the air of someone who had experienced it fairly often.

"I also suspect I'd better fix my sleep debt now, as I foresee a lot of helping people move in my near future," Tony added, thinking of all the people he had basically dragged from DC to Colorado with him. He could pretty much guarantee that Abby, Cassie, and Jace would draft him to help, and of course he'd offer to help Gerald, Cynthia, and Bethany. Jivin might ask, too. If they weren't in Nevada, he'd have expected to get drafted to help Paula, Dorney, and the Morgans as well.

"Is it an abuse of power if you use airmen and privates for that kind of thing?" Daniel asked.

Tony quickly looked at Jack, who contemplated it. "Probably? But don't let that stop you."

"You could make it voluntary, and incentivize it with food or a day off duty or something," Paul pointed out.

"Very good idea," Tony agreed. "Hey Jack, what's the deal with me telling your airmen they can take an afternoon off? If I write a note to teacher will you uphold it?"

"Ordinarily I'd say no," Jack said, "but you've got how many people coming?"

"Not counting Tony, eleven singles or couples report to the Mountain tomorrow," Paul rattled off instantly. "We may have the first three inbound from JAG as well, though they aren't due until Thursday. We're expecting another seven to report here by Monday, though they'll likely be coming ahead of their moving trucks, as they'll have less notice. The other dozen will trickle in after that."

"So thirteen this weekend, and seven more next weekend, more or less, with about half being couples with twice the stuff," Tony concluded. "And another dozen throughout the month."

Jack and Daniel were both staring at him, and Tony got the sudden impression that even though he'd signed off on everything, Jack hadn't quite done the math on how many people were coming. "I've got almost the same number heading to Nevada, plus two poor guys due at McMurdo," Tony added, just to really blow their minds.

"You've got fifty or sixty people reporting to you?" Daniel was in shock.

"I guess, but I hadn't done the math," Tony shrugged. "That isn't counting those who we'll eventually send to Atlantis, or the new agents and legal eagles we bring in each time you finish a battlecruiser." Which, when you laid it all out like that, actually did sound like a lot. "I guess that crack about giving you an NDA hernia was closer to the truth than I realized!" Tony told Paul.

Who, to his credit, just gave him a long-suffering look back, but didn't return the snark in front of a General.

"Alright, I'll make an announcement," Jack decided. "Anyone who puts in at least four hours helping someone move any time this month gets a half-shift off duty in the future. You'll need to have someone man a sign in sheet, but for each four hours they'll get a half-shift."

"Thanks, Jack!" Tony grinned. "You'll save me from my own moving-day hernia."

"It might help to have them sign up in advance, so that you know you've got enough coming at the right times, and so you can break them up by location," Daniel quickly pointed out.

Tony wasn't sure when he'd have the time for that, but to his relief, Jack spoke up again. "Major, could you delegate that to someone as well?"

"Of course, Sir," Paul said cheerfully.

"Oh right, delegating to minions," he realized, "another perk of being the boss."

"You haven't had your own minions before?" Daniel teased.

"Oh, I've had probies, but you've gotta share them with the other senior agents, and if you break 'em you buy 'em," Tony said loftily. "And you can only commandeer their weekends outside of work so many times before they finally crack and complain to someone higher up the food chain."

"Well at least you won't need to apartment hunt," Jack teased.

Daniel froze, and Tony quickly moved into familiar deflection territory. "Not that we've discussed that, but even if we had, have you seen the size of the shoebox that Daniel lives in? No, I'm afraid I'll need a realtor regardless. But that said, since we're swarming the area, I'm sure a bunch of us will be looking for the same kinds of places, in the same proximity to the Mountain, so once everyone's in storage, I suspect we'll be carpooling to the realty office."

Chapter Text

After lunch, Tony split from the others at the elevator, as he had one last lower level to examine. Their evidence garage, such as it was, was down on 24 next to something labeled the MALP Bay and a Maintenance Garage. He'd been assured that if they ever had an airplane or car on the surface they wanted to examine, they could use a hangar space at Peterson. Area 51 would need a normal Evidence Garage, but it was far more likely that Tony would be examining things that came through the Stargate. As such, since there was already a freight elevator and doors in the right proportions leading from the Gateroom on 28 to the Maintenance Garage on 24, he'd been given space there.

Peaking into the MALP Bay, Tony quickly realized that these were robots, in a variety of configurations, not unlike the kind that the Bomb Squad used. It was easy to make the association that those were likely the kind of 'vehicles' he'd be checking out in his Garage, Tony found the location making more and more sense. Once again, the Evidence Garage door was well labeled, but all that was inside were a few metal tables and counters with a pegboard above them. Tony assumed that Abby would be able to provide a list of the tools she needed, but he thought that had already been done by Director Morrow, based on the contents of the Garage at NCIS.

Since he was right there, he backtracked next door to the MALP Bay, where he was pointed towards Sergeant Siler, who was carefully reassembling what looked like an aerial drone. "Can I help you?" he asked once Tony came to a stop beside him.

Offering his hand to shake, Tony tried out his new title, "Special Agent in Charge DiNozzo, SGSI; call me Tony," he said cheerfully.

"Sergeant Siler, Sir. Uh, sorry, but—" he replied, holding up his grease fingers in explanation for not shaking hands.

"Fair enough," Tony put his hand down and continued cheerfully. "So, I hear you're the person to speak to about the tools and things for my Evidence Garage? I thought we had sent ahead a shopping list, and you're about the only Sergeant that Major Randolph didn't send by to update me this morning."

"Sorry about that, Sir. We were supposed to send this UAV out with SG-5 this morning, but it had an electrical short and we were scrambling to ready a replacement."

"No worries, I know we weren't top priority," Tony assured him. "Do you know what happened to our tool requisition?"

"Yesir. We were told to hold off on anything that you wouldn't use on a MALP, FRED, or UAV," he gestured at the three different robots stored around him, "which wasn't much. The rest was ordered and should have come through this morning, but I haven't had a chance to check. There are a lot of specialty tools we use that you wouldn't have had on hand if you were used to dealing only with cars, but that we used regularly on our 'bots here. I put together a list, but wasn't sure if I should order them yet."

"I'll take all of it," Tony said firmly. He didn't want Abby getting hurt trying to jury-rig the wrong tool, or missing something because she didn't have the right equipment. "Requisition it under my department, SGSI, and it'll get signed off on ASAP."

"Yesir," Siler said cheerfully.

"For the rest, assuming that it did arrive this morning, will you have the available manpower to get it somewhat organized by tomorrow morning? I'm sure I can scrounge up some marines to do the actual transport, if your engineers are still busy."

"We're almost done here, Sir. If you got someone to bring down the boxes and unpack everything, my boys can get it put away in a logical order for you — assuming no other emergencies, of course."

"Of course," Tony agreed easily. "And I'll take that deal," he jotted down a note to see about shanghaiing some Marines — or more likely airmen. At NCIS he was used to having Marines on call at the yard, but Stargate seemed to keep their Marines in security and Gate team roles, and use Airmen for general gruntwork. "While I have you, Sergeant, would you happen to be the electronics fairy who outfitted my War Room this weekend, or was that Technical Sergeant James? Or was it Technical Sergeant Peters? I can't keep all my different electronics dealers straight yet, I'm afraid."

Siler chuckled. "I did the wiring, but Sergeant James supplied the goods," he explained.

"Excellent, then either of you should know: were there cameras installed on that wall? I don't mean the security cams in the corner, but ones aligned with the monitors so that we can do video-conferencing."

"Ah, yes, we put a few in, but the only ones we had in that size were pretty low-quality, so they're just stuck down temporarily. Sergeant James ordered you some really nice, high definition ones, and once those get in I'll be installing them permanently and taking out the temps."

"Excellent!" Tony made that note. "I'm guessing they were button cams, then, or something similar, which is why I missed them with just a cursory glance. Good to know. By the way, how do I tell which of you three to talk to about my future electronics needs? I've got several questions and I'm not sure who to direct them to. I don't want to waste anyone's time."

"Appreciate that, Sir. Sergeant Peters you see for personal computers — desktop or laptop — and office phones, plus getting those kinds of things set up. Password problems go to him, and he'll do periodic sweeps for bugs in the phones."

"Is that a problem?" Tony asked quickly.

"It has been, which is when he started checking. It's done randomly by lottery, so there's no routine that someone could use to remove and replace the bug."

"Good to know," Tony added that to his growing list. "Since hunting down whoever's placing them is under my purview, I anticipate he and I getting to know each other very well in the future."

"Yesir. Sergeant James is who you go to for any other kind of electronic: bigger screens, cameras, video, and all of your specialty stuff. He does the setups for the scientists, though most of them do their own tweaking."

"Abby does too — she's my forensics tech," he quickly explained. "And what about you?"

"Me, I'm who you call for engineering. Any time we're rewiring the walls, or any kind of mechanical problem, like the MALPs and UAVs. I'm also in charge of the Stargate itself, power and maintenance-wise."

"Oh, so you're one of the most important guys here!" Tony said. "Is there someone under you — one of your minions — who I should take my problems to, instead of bothering you?"

He was rewarded with a genuine smile from Siler. "No, Sir. I'm your man. We all tend to wear a lot of hats around here."

"Alright, then the last thing is that some time tomorrow I'll need to introduce you to Abby. She'll need the manuals for all your toys in here, and any specs you've got on those specialty tools. Once she's read it all, she'll need to meet with you or someone in your department to make sure she understands it all. Don't worry — she's an absolute genius, so she'll pick it all up pretty quickly, I'm sure — but she needs to understand how they go together correctly so she can properly investigate and figure out how things go wrong. She's a bit of a unique personality, I'll warn you now."

"I look forward to meeting her," Siler said with another friendly smile. "Barring emergencies, I'm always somewhere on this floor during my shift, save for lunch or coffee runs. If I'm not here, just ask around and someone will know where I went and how soon I should return."

"Great! We'll swing by some time after lunch, maybe as late as 2, depending on how quickly everything else goes," Tony wrote the appointment in the margin. "Now, is there anything you need from me?"

Siler looked surprised for a second, before he shook his head. "No Sir."

"Alright, I'm off to hunt down some warm bodies to make your deliveries! Thanks for your help, Sergeant!" Avoiding another greasy handshake, Tony strode out of the MALP Bay and back to the elevator. He'd make a quick call to Technical Sergeant Chapman and see how he had gotten all those records schlepped around — he'd definitely have the fast track on finding help around here.

When Tony got back to his office and had called Chapman, he was told that Quartermaster was the place to find spare Airmen to do his heavy lifting. After another quick call to Major Randolph in quartermaster, he had arranged for the boxes to be delivered to the Garage and unpacked. That done, Tony skimmed back through his notepad for all the things he wanted to check on.

The first, of course, was to get into his brand new email account, if possible. Pulling up the internal directory he'd been given yesterday during his intake, he found the department number for Technical Sergeant Peters, who had set him up with his system credentials and password. It only took a few minutes to discover that Paul's message about their email server had been received and already implemented. All Tony had to do was pick a password for his email and he'd be ready to jump in.

That done, and while he had Peters on the phone, Tony arranged to meet him and a laptop at security bright and early the next morning. Tony had no idea when his people would be arriving, other than the vague 'between eight and noon,' and he intended to park himself in a handy corner up at the security office and work on a laptop while he waited. Peters advised Tony that he'd need to speak to a different Sergeant if he wanted a batch of airmen to lead his people around on a tour, but Tony was inclined to do that himself once everyone had arrived.

Since Tony needed to check on Delores Bromstead's new office up on Level 2, he decided to take care of that before sending the rest of his emails. That way he could see if her office would make a decent staging point for tomorrow, or if there was somewhere else convenient he could hole up. Actually, Tony realized, he would probably need to meet them at the gate, or at least the entrance, rather than inside. Paul had met him at the entrance on Monday, and escorted him down the first time. Maybe Tony would skip the laptop at first and hang out in his Mustang with a notepad. Once he got people through the first checkpoints, he could have an airman escort them to wherever Peters wanted to set up, and then filter them to the conference room — maybe the courtroom.

With those plans percolating, Tony slipped out of his office and back into the elevator. He made the transition on Level 11 without a problem, and continued up to Level 2. Up there, he was given directions to office 19 — a two-person space in the far corner. His nose led him the last few yards, thanks to that familiar fresh paint smell, and he quickly arrived at 'HR: SGSI and Civilian // Bromstead and Connors'.

Poking his head in, he discovered half of the room in the process of being unpacked, though Captain Connors appeared to still be at lunch or running another errand. The space looked just like the other offices he'd investigated today, but in duplicate, and he assumed it would do, for now. However, it would not make a great staging area for tomorrow, he quickly realized. Aside from the small size, Connors would be there attempting to get his own space set up, as he'd obviously been moved.

Quest only half accomplished, Tony retreated back to the elevator and then up to the first Level. There, once he explained to the increasingly suspicious guards why he was opening every door, they brought him to a decent sized holding room. It already had an amply sized table, and with a few more chairs, he thought it might be a good place for Peters to work on intake for his people. Staff Sergeant Walker, who had done Tony's security intake that morning, was off duty now, but the Gunny on duty assured Tony that Walker would be handling his people tomorrow, and would be able to get Peters and anything he needed set up in the space.

Not wanting to bother with the rigamarole of passing out and back in through security, Tony made a note of the room number and then headed back down to his office. He'd look around outside for a good, visible place to camp out once he left to go home tonight. Shooting off a quick email to Peters with the room number and instructions to coordinate with Walker, Tony was able to cross 'intake' off his list for the moment.

Before he could move down to the next item, an email popped up from Paul, showing him the business card mockups. It seemed that Stargate Command tended to use a simplified version of the Earth Stargate symbol as their logo, while Homeworld went with the more generic plain globe. On the one hand, Tony liked the funky A shape of Stargate Command, but if they were ever trying to convince a rogue NID agent that they were simply Strategic Global Investigators who had never heard of the Stargate, it was a bit of a giveaway. On the other hand, if they wanted to intimidate someone with a simple card handover, letting them know 'oh yes, I have been read in, and you are in big trouble,' the logo was perfect.

After debating for several minutes, Tony decided on the version with an angular, faux-Egyptian font with the little Stargate symbol right in front of it, almost like another letter. There was another one with an embossed globe beneath the words that he liked, and in his reply Tony asked if they could be combined, keeping the embossing the same color as the card, as a subtle nod to their global reach. It was quickly okayed, and Paul promised to swing by his office with the first batch of cards that evening.

Tony spent the next half hour sketching out the relevant parts of the blueprints for each floor they were using — save those for private quarters. He also decided to add the Mess and Medical, as they'd need to know those too. Once he had neat little copies of the path from the elevators to their sections of 24, 22, 21, 20, 17, 16, and 2, he headed out to the copy room. It wasn't the exact same as the one at NCIS, but all copy machines he'd ever encountered were basically the same, so in short order he had 30 copies of his maps. Fortunately, paper didn't seem to be stored in the same place as the other office supplies that had been destroyed, as the room was already well stocked with it. He would need to wait for a stapler or paper clips to arrive before he could finish the packets, but they would make do as is.

Next, he returned to his office and looked through the stack of papers that had accumulated on his desk throughout the day. Several had come from the various Sergeants that morning, but there were a few he didn't recognize, and he wondered if they had been slipped in by Paul, or if people had just dropped them off while he was out. The first one he was looking for was the packet of phone extensions for his people that he'd gotten from Technical Sergeant Peters. As he'd feared, he had numbers for himself listed both in his office and in the Alpha Bullpen. He shot a quick email at Peters asking if it was possible to forward calls to just one number. As he was typing, it occurred to him that that information might be important to have before the business cards were printed, and he forwarded it to Paul marked ASAP. That spawned a second thought, to ask what had been decided with regard to giving his team cell numbers, and he shot that off in a postscript.

Tony was of the school of thought that it was better to send a new email to the same person for unrelated topics, rather than make a long list and risk something getting lost in the shuffle, so his next email was also to Peters, asking about the missing phone in the War Room, and one for the Evidence Garage, as it had also been lacking. Now that he had Siler's handy guide to keeping his electronics Sergeants straight, he sent the next one to James to ask about the personal coms he had requisitioned but not seen anywhere today. Next came a long list of missing furniture that he shot off to Sergeant Augustino.

By the time his stomach told him it was time for a snack, Tony had crossed off about half of the notes on his legal pad. He decided to see what might be sitting around the small Mess on 16 before he trekked all the way down to 22. A lone caramel pudding cup that had clearly been pushed behind the salt shakers and forgotten about was his prize, and Tony cheerfully absconded with it back to his office. He did add a note to buy snacks to his legal pad, however. He couldn't count on finding gems like that every day!

The one thing Tony did notice as he sat there, enjoying his treat, was how utterly quiet his office was. Part of that was the soundproofing effect of the thick concrete walls in the Base, but he was also used to being in a much larger space with many more people. Even late at night, there was always someone still typing away, or cleaning. The quiet clicks and rustles and squeaks and murmured conversations were as much a part of his thought process as his snacks and stress balls. Tony added an mp3 player and small speaker dock to his personal shopping list. His ipod was thoroughly buried in some box — he had no idea which, so there was no hope of him finding it before tomorrow. Daniel might have one he could borrow, though, and Tony added a note to ask him tonight.

He was kicking himself now for not keeping some things from his NCIS desk out when Tony realized that he had, actually. He had left all of his things from NCIS in the file box he'd been given when he cleaned out his desk, and he'd just slapped tape on it and tossed it in the truck. If his memory served him, that box was even visibly placed in his storage unit. If he popped over there tonight, he could probably get it without much fuss, and have all of his toys, snacks, and music ready to go tomorrow.

Pleased with that plan of action, Tony finished off his pudding cup and went back to his list, starting with adding a need for trash cans, because he had nowhere to put said pudding cup. Thinking back, Tony didn't think he'd seen a trashcan anywhere today, and he shot a quick email at both Major Randolph and Sergeant Augustino — unsure if a trashcan was considered office supply or furniture — to get a whole phalanx of them.

That sorted, he bent to the rest of his task, making his way down his list and compiling emails like mad. He had started to get emails back, as well, and was busy replying to them when someone knocked on his door. "Enter!"

The door was opened by an Airman carrying a clipboard. "Office supplies, Sir?"

Tony quickly got up from his desk and peeked out in the hall. There were three other Airmen there, each of them standing beside a dolly full of cardboard boxes.

"Let's dump them all onto the conference table," Tony decided, pointing to the door across from his. "Then we can sort everything. I take it there's a list somewhere of what specifically goes in each office?"

The airman with the clipboard waved it at him. "Yesir,"

"Good," Tony held out his hand for it. "You guys get everything open and start dumping it out, I'll get to sorting."

"Uh, we've got another couple of trips to make, Sir," the lead airman — Williamson, according to the patch on his BDUs — said nervously, even as he pulled a sheaf of papers off the clipboard and handed it over.

Tony eyed the boxes, then pictured the conference table in his mind. Not good enough. "Change in plans. Follow me." He ducked back for his pen and pad, then led them around the corner to Evidence Processing. There were a dozen large tables in that room, and they'd be able to spread out as needed. He was able to prop the door open with a chair fairly easily, clearing the way for the four airmen to bring their loads in. The airmen quickly slid the boxes off the dollies, and Tony grabbed one off the top of the closest stack, plonking it on the first table.

"I should have bins and/or file boxes somewhere in this load, don't I?" Tony asked the airmen.

"Yesir," their leader agreed.

"Prioritize those, will you? We can use them for sorting. And if you've got some friends hanging around, bring them with you so they can start opening stuff." Tony pulled out his knife, grateful that he'd been able to talk his way into taking it through security yesterday, and cut open the first box. The airmen took off with their dollies, and he discovered colorful eight-packs of dry erase markers. Well, they had white boards all over his department, so those would be put to good use.

Tony took a few minutes to ponder how to set things up, but eventually decided to keep all the supplies laid out on the center tables, and then put boxes for each room on the racks around the walls. He ducked back to the copy room and grabbed a small stack of paper, for labels, then returned to opening boxes. The next two were nothing but pens, and the last box on that dolly provided sharpies in a variety of sizes. Tony quickly grabbed one of the fat ones and started labeling the center boxes. He debated for another moment and then decided to just cut off the flaps on the sides and back, so that the boxes would fit flush against each other. Then, on the remaining front flap, he labeled them with the fat sharpie.

He had just finished getting the first four boxes arranged to his satisfaction when five fresh-faced young airmen entered. "Hello there! I take it you're my helpers! Do any of you have knives?"

As one, all five reached for their belts or pockets. Tony smirked. "And I thought only Marines were that well prepared. Well, have at it! Organize all these boxes on the center tables, like I've started, and then we'll sort from there!"

The airmen made quick work of continuing his system, and quickly uncovered pencils both yellow and artistic, erasers both white and gum, white board erasers, a rainbow assortment of highlighters, one box entirely of standard post-it notes and another full of the little flag kind, three hole punches, scissors, push pins, three sizes of paper clips, five sizes of binder clips — including the tiny ones Tony liked to play with, — staples and staplers, and whiteout in both tape and liquid form.

Tony didn't have a thing for office supplies or anything, but it all had that new packaging smell, and it was all so neat and orderly in the boxes, like the truck when he'd finished restocking it after a long week. Everything put just so, right where it belonged. He liked the sense of accomplishment he got in those moments, and he could see feeling the same way today.

Just as they'd finished opening the last box, the boys with the dollies returned, two of them piled high with plastic evidence bins saran-wrapped together. "Excellent!" Tony pointed his helpers at them. "Free those and separate them — put them side by side on the outer shelves. Have we found tape yet?"

"I brought it, Sir," the airman with the last dolly said, pointing at the stack he'd left as he headed for the door.

"Good, which of you's got the best handwriting?" Tony asked. After exchanging a few glances, a dark-skinned airman who looked like he couldn't be older than eighteen stepped forward. Tony spared a brief thought to wonder how someone so young got posted somewhere so top secret, but then shook it off. The patch on his BDUs said Morril, and his insignia indicated that he was a Senior Airman, the equivalent of a Corporal or a Petty Officer 3rd Class, in the ranks he was familiar with, which meant he was probably older than he looked.

"Grab that stack of paper I put somewhere… there it is!" he spotted it on the farther of the two desks. "Alright, Senior Airman Morril, get paper, tape, and a sharpie." Tony quickly flicked through the papers he had been given and thankfully found a master list of the rooms these supplies were for. He handed it over. "Each room gets a tub: label 'em all!"

"Yesir!" Morril replied crisply, then collected the supplies and sat at the desk, quickly writing out the names. When the box of masking tape was opened, one of the others grabbed a roll and placed it on his desk. Fairly soon, the dollies were back, and the room fell into a comfortable pattern. This load included stacks of flattened file boxes, but Tony thought the tubs would work better, so he had the airmen leave them in the corner for now.

He thought they were on their fifth trip when Williamson, the leader of the dolly group, hesitated. "Sir, there's a bunch of boxes for you that aren't office supplies… gloves and things? We thought they were medical, but we weren't sure."

"I do need gloves on this level, but I should also have a ton of medical supplies going down to Autopsy. I should also have a bunch of smaller electronics, like cameras, and stuff, not to mention all the big ticket electronics that are going to the labs. Is all of that in the same place?" Tony asked.

"Yesir, we received and unloaded all of it down to the staging warehouse on Level 5 today."

"Excellent!" Tony clapped his hands together with glee. "Bring me the paperwork. I can tell you what should come here for divvying up and what should go elsewhere."

"Yesir!" he sounded relieved.

Tony spared a moment to wish for the lists on his laptop, which was… actually he'd brought it yesterday, but not been allowed to bring it through security. When he'd worried about leaving it in his car, they'd assured him he could lock it up in their Security room on Level 1. He didn't have a cell phone either, so looked around and saw the airmen working smoothly. "Be right back," he told them.

He hustled down to his office and grabbed the phone, punching in the now familiar extension for Paul's office.

"Hello?"

"Hey Paul, Tony. How do I get my personal laptop past security? Or, alternatively, how do I get all of the supply orders and room inventories off of it? I've got a bunch of strapping young airmen at my beck and call, and several pallets worth of supplies I need them to deliver all over this Mountain."

"Uh, give me a minute," Paul said with enviable calm. "Where is your laptop?"

"Security kidnapped it yesterday. It should still be up with them on 1."

"Okay, and where are you?"

"Evidence Processing, around the corner from my office."

"Got it. Give me a few minutes and I'll take care of it," Paul said.

"Thanks!" Tony spared a brief moment to enjoy the lost art of not being hung up on. Then he headed back into the breach.

With all of the office supplies neatly ordered on the table, and about half of the bins around the edge labeled, Tony found his five recruits almost ready for him. He sorted through the stack of papers he had and pulled out the individual office breakdowns. "Senior Airman Morril, break out one of the boxes of pens, and one of highlighters. Everyone, grab a sheet from this stack. It should correspond to an office that's been labeled on one of these tubs. Grab everything it needs, in the right amounts, and put them in the tub. Check off everything you put in the tub, and highlight anything you can't find in the room. Once you've put everything in the tub that we have in the room, leave the finished list in the corresponding tub. Alright, hop to it!" he finished cheerfully.

The last one had just pulled a sheet from the pile and turned back to the central tables when Williamson's dolly crew arrived. Tony took the papers he had gathered, and glanced through them. Then he went over the boxes that had been delivered, looking at their contents. "Okay, most of this stays here," he decided.

"This dolly is all the gear bags, which stay, and this stack is all gloves. Some might be earmarked for Autopsy, but honestly, I wouldn't be surprised to get a second dolly load just for this room, either. This stack with the evidence baggies stays as well. This last one… Some of the stuff we use in here might be considered surgical tools — tweezers and scrapers and things. I'll need to open them to make a judgment call. Williamson, let's have your crew do the unloading and opening while I flip through the paperwork."

"Yesir," he agreed easily, as the quartet quickly opened their boxes. The ones that Tony had identified as staying were placed on the next set of empty tables, but the medical ones he wasn't sure about were left around his feet where he leaned on the closest desk. Unfortunately, he quickly realized, whoever had put the orders in had combined everything for his department into one order. Good from a purchasing standpoint, but bad for someone who didn't want to haul things to the wrong place twice. While the individual office and bullpen breakdowns had been printed out for this team to deliver, all of Tony's other supply lists were missing.

Tony made a quick decision as they returned to his side. "This order with the sat phones, cameras, and different drivers can come down here," he handed over the correct manifest. "And I can tell you for certain that these two pages all go down to my forensics lab on 20. If you four get started on that, I'll work out some kind of code for the mixed sheets, alright?"

"Yesir!" the quartet replied together. Really, they were so easy to please!

Tony wandered over to the other desk and found that they'd only grabbed half of the highlighters from the open box, so he swiped the remaining colors for himself. Then he sat down and started reviewing the manifests. He was surprised to find, near the bottom of the pile, a shipment of tools that had already been checked off. Setting it aside, he returned to his work. A few minutes later, Paul entered, carrying his laptop.

The airmen quickly snapped to attention, and he muttered, "as you were," at them.

"You are without a doubt my hero!" Tony cheered, fluttering his lashes. That prompted at least one muffled snort from the Airmen across the room who were going back to their tasks.

"You can't connect to the internal network, but you've got access to all the inventories and orders you compiled and saved to your harddrive," Paul explained as he handed it over.

"Seriously, you're a lifesaver!" Tony told him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you say that to all the Majors." Paul smirked as he walked back out.

"Only my favorites!" Tony called after him.

Tony wasted no time booting up his laptop and opening the folder he'd created for the new Unit. Once he had his own breakdowns of the common supplies handy, comparing them to the shipping manifests was a breeze. By the time Williamson's group returned with the cameras and phones, Tony had a few pages ready.

"Can I assume that your group were the ones drafted to take all these tools down to my Evidence Garage by the MALP Bay?" Tony asked, picking up the stack of manifests that were already checked off.

"Yesir! We did that right before we started bringing stuff down here."

"Good, then you already know where it is!" Tony crowed. "Did you unpack everything for the engineers?"

"Yesir."

"Wonderful." Tony grabbed the next manifest and pointed to the quick key he'd made in the margin. "Okay, this shipment is from our evidence gathering supplier. You'll see we've got baggies in a bunch of sizes, jars, vials, tubes, envelopes, swab kits… all the fun things! You brought a few here already, which I marked in orange. Pink comes here, blue to the garage on 24, yellow to the forensics lab you just visited on 20, and green to autopsy on 21. Some of the boxes will need to be opened and split, and I marked the numbers on those. Got it?"

"Got it," Williamson agreed. He took the first pages and led his group back out.

Tony was able to move through the manifests at a brisk pace, keeping well ahead of his delivery boys, even when he had to stop and explain some of the more esoteric supplies to his distribution group. They eventually added the ten gear bags to one of the tables, and Airman Smith filled each one with matching sets of clipboards, sketchbooks, pencils, erasers, scissors, tape, stencils, rulers, measuring tapes, collection kits, gloves, zip ties, disposable tweezers and scalpels, scrapers, swabs, test kits, clipboards, crime scene tape, notebooks, cameras, memory cards, and other assorted office supplies.

A few of the tubs were packed with office supplies that needed to go down to the Garage, Forensics Lab, and Autopsy, and those were sent back out on the dollies. Finally they had found and distributed everything, except, mysteriously, the box with the colored pencils and small pencil sharpeners destined for the gear bags, and the box of ear plugs for the gear bags and the ballistics range. The box with the large over-ear protection had been delivered, but the small in-ear plugs were nowhere to be found. Still, by Tony's estimate they'd opened and distributed over a hundred boxes, not counting those that had gone down to the Garage before he saw them, so misplacing only two was a decent margin in his book.

Williamson promised to keep an eye out for them, and then the group split up, delivering the tubs to each destination and dumping them on the closest desk or table. Finally, they had all the tubs returned to Evidence Processing, with its own pile of supplies dumped on the first desk. The airmen finished breaking down the boxes, and returned them and the dollies back from whence they came.

Once it was all over, Tony turned out the lights and returned to his office, where his own pile of supplies was dumped on his desk. He shoved it to the side for the moment, needing to check his email first. He was fairly certain that, given the rate from earlier, several dozen messages had probably backed up for him while he was in the other room. Tony's phone was also blinking with two missed calls, and he made another note to get it to forward to his cell as soon as he got one.

Once Tony had checked all his new messages and replied as needed, he checked the time. It was a quarter to five, so Tony decided to poke his head in on Paul and Daniel before leaving. He'd see if the former had anything left to talk to him about, and touch base with the latter about their plans for the evening. Tony had already promised to meet Abby for dinner, and was sure that some of the others would be there too, but he wasn't sure if Daniel already had plans, or would even want to go

Paul, fortunately, had just gotten back to his office — at least, the temporary one he used when he wasn't in DC — with the first batch of business cards. Someone — probably Peters — had made an executive decision about Tony's extension number, and he'd also been given the first approved cell phone number. One of the science geeks still had the actual phone, doing something to it concerning security that went over Tony's head. The bottom line, though, was that all of his information had been ready to put on the card, and he grabbed a handful of them to pass around tonight and tomorrow. Cynthia, Delores, Bethany, Jace, and Pamela wouldn't be getting cell phones, since they didn't go out in the field, so their cards were also in the first batch.

Tony thought Abby's would be here as well, but his question about his having multiple extensions had led them to realize that she also had two spaces: the Forensics Lab and the Ballistics Lab. Gerald and Dr. Perkins had the same issue with Autopsy and the Morgue, since they weren't in the same room like at NCIS. Once the phones were squared away to ring in both places from one number, Tony would get a new phone directory and they'd be ready to print their business cards. Tony was just grateful that he'd had Paul to help coordinate these things: he couldn't wait until Cynthia started tomorrow.

With a promise of cell phones and cards for everyone tomorrow, Paul wished him a good night, and Tony headed down to Level 18. He found Daniel's office fairly quickly, and knocked on the open door, leaning against the frame casually.

"Tony! Hi!" Daniel looked up from his computer. "What's, uh, what's going on?"

"It's quitting time," Tony joked with a smile. "I'm actually meeting a few of the others for dinner, making sure everyone got into town alright, and is ready to report in tomorrow. You're welcome to come, if you'd like, but absolutely no pressure."

A couple of emotions slipped across Daniel's face before he replied. "I, uh, normally I'd like to go. But I— I've got to finish this translation, and then I've got a briefing at six."

"Okiedoke!" Tony agreed easily. "So I'll see you later, then?"

"Oh, oh! Yes!" Daniel reached into his pocket and then pulled out a key, attached to a keychain that appeared to be a rock. "Jack has the spare key to my house, for emergencies, and I got it back from him this afternoon. Feel free to let yourself in whenever you get h— there."

"Awesome, thanks!" Tony accepted it and examined the keychain closer. "Yeah, I thought that was a rock," he quirked a brow at Daniel in question.

"Jack, uh, likes to joke that all archeologists do is— uh, play with rocks," Daniel explained tightly.

"Ah, gotcha," Tony smiled, tucking the key in his pocket. He felt like he should say something to assure Daniel that he didn't feel as dismissive of his occupation, but he wasn't familiar enough with his mate to know how best to phrase it. Before he could, Daniel jumped in.

"So, I'm sorry about Jack. He can be a bit of an ass."

"Don't worry about it. My boss Gibbs was a bastard and proud of it. It'll take more than a little innuendo to freak me out."

"G— Good! Good! That's good, because he's a bit of an acquired taste, a— and I didn't want his coming on too strong to… upset you."

"Totally fine."

"Good," Daniel mumbled. Then chewed his lip. Then finally took a deep breath. "Did you— uh, I mean… what Jack said earlier, ab— about moving in together…"

"Sure, if you want," Tony replied easily. "I've had two weeks to get used to the idea; I didn't want you to feel like I was bulldozing into your life and demanding changes. I'd love to move in with you, but I couldn't even fit my clothes into your house, never mind anything else I own."

"Originally I figured I'd spend the first week or so crashing in the on-base berthing set aside for SGSI, and then see about maybe using your couch. But since Jack jumped us straight to that point last night… I don't mind waiting a few weeks to see if you want to live with me for reals, and then look for a place where we'll both fit. If you want to tag along with Cass and Jace and the other couples as they look for housing, like I plan to, you're more than welcome. And if you wanted to keep your own place and move slower, that's fine too. Like I said, I intended to give you more time to think about it, before Jack…"

"Was himself?" Daniel joked with a small laugh. "Yeah, bulldoze is the right word for him. I, uh, I'm not sure… Can I get back to you?"

"Sure," Tony gave him a calm smile, to show that it really was alright. "Can I still crash on your couch?"

"O— of course," Daniel agreed.

"Great."

"So I'll see you sometime tonight?"

"Yes." Tony agreed firmly. "Thank you for the key."

"No problem."

Tony easily made his way back through the two elevators and double security checkpoints and finally found himself topside. His car was right where he had left it the day before, and he pulled out his personal cell phone that he'd left there yesterday morning. Jack had caught him so off guard last night that he hadn't even come back for it! Looking at the display, Tony grimaced at how many missed calls he had, and he quickly listened to the single messages from Cynthia and Delores as he looked around for a good place to meet everyone tomorrow.

Both of them were short messages letting him know that they had made it safely to Colorado and would be at the Mountain by nine on Wednesday. By the time he'd finished with them, he'd decided on the ideal parking space, so Tony quickly called both women back and let them know to look for him and his car once they got through the first gate. He had two messages from Jace — the standard 'We've made it' call and another telling him that they'd been invited for dinner by Cassie and Abby. Since he'd see them in a little while, Tony didn't call back. Cassie had sent him a text with the address of the restaurant, so he plugged it into his GPS and started off while he put the phone on speaker to listen to all of Abby's voicemails.

Fortunately, once he got off the Complex and down NORAD road, the instructions were fairly simple. He cruised up the 115 until he hit downtown and then once he turned onto Platte it was a straight shot to his destination. For the others, coming from Peterson AFB, it should have been even closer and more straightforward, Tony knew. As promised, the large, ornate sign for Fargo's Pizza Co was impossible to miss, and by the time Tony had pulled in and parked, he had gotten through most of his voicemails. As it was already a few minutes past six, Tony hurried inside.

"Tony!" came the call immediately, and he followed Abby's shout to the table. Well, tables, as they had several crammed together. It looked like his entire contingent was there, including several children and a few people he didn't recognize.

"Chair Force?" he teased, eyeing the three unfamiliar officers in their daily blues who were clustered at the nearest end.

"Tony, this is my brother," Bethany rolled her eyes at him and pointed at the one directly across from her, "Brian Dorchester, and his wife, Anne." Tony greeted the Second Lieutenant and civilian woman beside him. He knew that they'd discovered that Bethany's brother was in the Program, but hadn't made the connection that he might come tonight.

"Now I recognize Maddy from the photos in your office," Tony said, eyeing the four children at the end. "I'm guessing the rest are Brian and Anne's?"

"Benny, Brittany, and Brandon," Bethany confirmed, pointing at each child in order. It looked like Brittany was the same age as Maddy, with Brandon not too far behind — probably not yet a tween — while little Benny looked to be about five or six.

"And who'd you bring with you, Lieutenant?" Tony nodded to the other two officers.

"Actually, those are ours," Cassie chimed in from further down the table. "The blonde Lieutenant Greene is one of our JAG lawyers and the redheaded one is heading their support staff."

Tony grinned at the two women as he shook their hands. "Ma'am, Ma'am. I'm Tony. You got a better way for us to identify who we want to talk to than using hair color?" he joked.

"I'm Mandy," said the one with deep auburn hair and laughing eyes, "and this is Nicole."

Tony continued his way down the table, greeting the Millers and their teen — he'd forgotten that their oldest was in college already! — and the Haldars with their two toddlers. Gerald was next, and Dr. Perkins with her own young son, who was reading quietly. Lily was also in uniform, beside Cassie, and rose to kiss Tony on the cheek when he reached their area.

"Thank you so much for suggesting Cass for this," Lily told him seriously.

"You like your new post?" Tony asked, wondering at her intensity.

That made her smile, her eyes crinkling. "Still getting used to that, but I meant for this:" she held up her hand, showing off her openly worn engagement ring. Tony also realized that, though still in uniform, she wasn't wearing her wristband while off-duty. "My commanding officer flat out told me there's no discrimination on this base, and he didn't care who my soulmate was. His partner is a marine on one of the 'gate teams, and I guess they also faced some problems at a former posting."

"I'm really happy for you two," Tony said sincerely, giving her a quick hug. "I was assured this Base was open when it came to that kind of thing, DADT notwithstanding; I'm glad to hear I was told right." Though there were rumors about the Soulmate Act being disbanded soon, Tony appreciated that the SGC basically ignored the identity of their mated pairs.

Lily retook her seat, and Tony was able to say hello to Cynthia and Zoe Perez, who were seated across from her and Cassie. Beside them were Major Michaelson and another air force officer. "Captain?" he greeted, raising his brow in question.

"Alice Farmer, Sir. I'm OSI at Peterson, but I'm transferring to your command as soon as my replacement arrives," she said, shaking his hand.

Tony shot a questioning look back at Cynthia. "She's been read in," she assured him. "Apparently she's already been on the periphery of a few local incidents and was halfway to figuring something out. Kendricks approved her yesterday, but her replacement from Wright-Patterson won't be here until tomorrow."

"I need to hand over my open cases to him, but then I'll be yours first thing Thursday," Farmer concluded.

"Great! Welcome aboard!" Tony greeted her. Finally he reached his own chair at the head of the table, with Abby between himself and Farmer. Looking back at the duo he had just squeezed past, Tony extended his hand again. "Mrs Bromstead."

"Delores," she corrected him. "And my wife, Winnie."

"You certainly have the most unique command, don't you?" Winnie asked enthusiastically. "At first I had no idea why I was being brought in, but then about half an hour later it hit me!"

"It hits me regularly too," Tony agreed, absently accepting a hug from Abby. "Although I managed to go through a good chunk of the afternoon without a single epiphany or brain-melt."

"What were you doing instead?" Cassie teased with a knowing smirk as he took his seat.

"Sorting office supplies," Tony said quickly. At the raised eyebrows he hurried on. "No, seriously. You have no idea how many boxes of pencils and things we opened this afternoon. There's a pile of stuff on each person's desk, and I have no idea what the labs or Autopsy look like. Probably mountains of stuff like some demented Christmas morning," he joked. "I got to explain to several young Airmen all about the different kinds of containers we collect evidence in, too. Probably scarred them all for life."

"Aww," Abby leaned over and gave him a one-armed hug. "Did my babies arrive?"

Tony thought back to his list. "That should have come in by now, and will be unboxed and set up tonight. I already warned the stockboys that you like to tweak everything to your own satisfaction, so you'll have an Airman or two at your disposal tomorrow to do the heavy lifting. Oh! Gerald, Dr. Perkins!" he called down the table.

When they both turned to look, he continued. "Apparently the Autopsy suite had been used for something different, or not configured right, or something, because they had to go in and install the proper ceiling ventilation and drains in the floor and something else — hazmat, probably. Because of that, they were running behind schedule, and there weren't any cabinets or tables or anything when I did my check this morning. I was assured that it would all be installed by noon, tomorrow, though, and we dumped out a ton of supplies for you, so you'll be able to put it all away, in theory."

"It sounds like you had quite the busy day," Winnie said.

"Oh yeah," Tony grinned. "Oh, that reminds me!" he pulled his new business cards out of his pocket and split the stack in half before passing them to Abby and Winnie. "Grab one and pass it down!" Everyone oohed over the cards for a few minutes, and then the pizza arrived, distracting everyone for several minutes more. Despite the decent lunch and earlier snack, Tony found himself quite hungry, and he wolfed down a couple of slices before tackling his fourth more slowly.

"So, how goes the parade of moving trucks?" Tony asked.

"Most of us are in the same storage place as you and Cassie," Abby told him. It had been recommended to Tony by Paul, actually, for its proximity to Peterson AFB. The owners were used to Base personnel moving in and out on short notice and had been quite helpful. The Air Force also had a similar contact in Nevada, who were taking care of his people destined for Area 51.

One of Tony's frat brothers — Jerry — owned a moving company in the DMV area, and Tony had arranged with him to do the packing and shipping for everyone in DC at a discount. He had gotten into specialty freight a few years back, after Tony needed help moving his mom's piano for the first time, and Tony had entrusted his baby to Jerry again. He was not the only one, it turned out, as Abby's coffin needed specialty care, and two of the others had pianos as well.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that you'll all have help!" Tony declared loudly. "We're allowed to commandeer airmen to unload the trucks into storage, and to move everything once you've found permanent digs." That information was quickly passed down the table as Tony continued. "I figured we might do a little realty carpool this weekend, if anyone's up for it!"

"That would be wonderful," Winnie said. "We had originally anticipated that I would stay in Virginia, and that Dee would come out on her own. After a few months, we'd decide whether she'd stay and we'd move permanently. Since I got drafted into this thing, we haven't had time to pack up the house yet."

"I told them about Jerry," Cynthia quickly said.

"Good," Tony nodded. "He's a brother of mine, and he'll take good care of you. But on the bright side, you might not actually need a storage unit; if you find a place you like quickly, you'll only have to offload your truck once!"

Chapter Text

The small talk continued for a while, with everyone careful to use euphemisms for their new revelations, in deference to the children and any strangers who might pass close enough by to eavesdrop. After Tony got everyone's assurance that they'd be at the Mountain no later than 0930, so he could get them all taken care of at once, the group broke up for the night.

Tony still intended to swing by his storage unit and see if he could find his NCIS box, and through the closest supermarket or Walmart so that he could stock up on snacks. So, instead of staying late to chat with Abby, he promised to introduce her to Daniel ASAP, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and escorted her to her car. Then, once he'd seen the last of her taillights, he hopped into his Mustang and plugged the storage unit's address into his GPS.

As Tony had remembered, the box was visible — and only had two other light boxes on top of it — so it was relatively easy for him to retrieve it. There was a Walmart more or less on his way back to Daniel's — just off the highway, at least — so he was able to duck in and pick up snacks. Thinking ahead, he also grabbed a few cans of Red Bull for Abby, and a case of sodas to keep in his office for his own caffeine cravings. While by no means dependent on the stuff to the same extent as Abby or Gibbs — or apparently Daniel — were, Tony was no stranger to the mid-afternoon slump, or the need to use a little help to force himself to stay awake for 36-hour days.

He intended to make a proper grocery run at some point, in large part because he intended to cook for Daniel in thanks for letting him couch-surf, but for now Tony was set. With his spoils safely tucked into his trunk, Tony set off for Daniel's house.

Daniel's jeep was parked on the street when Tony got there, and lights were shining through the bedroom and front door windows, so Tony guessed that he was still awake. It wasn't as late as Tony had feared — not quite ten — but then he had gone to bed by nine last night, so he had no idea what kind of schedule Daniel kept.

Tony let himself in the front door, calling out a soft, "Hello?" in case Daniel had fallen asleep with the lights on.

"Tony, hey!" Daniel called back. His voice was coming from the bedroom, so Tony peeked in the door and found him lying on his back on top of his covers, reading. The bed was smaller than he expected, and set at a bit of an angle, closer to the far wall than the near. All kinds of artifacts and things were hung on the walls and spread across the dressers — if Tony hadn't known Daniel was an archeologist already, this room would be a big clue. "Nice dinner?" he asked, putting his book down across his chest and leaning up on his elbows.

"Fargo's Pizza," Tony confirmed, which made Daniel smile. "It turns out that just about everyone due to report tomorrow was there, so I didn't get to talk much with anyone except those sitting closest to me, but I'm feeling better about getting everyone through intake tomorrow. I'd forgotten about all the kids — luckily we're right at the start of summer break, so most of them were all already out for the summer, or skipping their last week this week. Our Air Force lawyers had to leave their two kids behind with a relative until their exams are finished, and the Millers only brought their younger son here to have a say in picking out their house, but he's got to be back for exams and… some competition — I'm blanking on the details — in a few weeks. He'll be living with his grandparents for a while."

"I've been working for the Air Force for a decade and I'm still not used to the way the Military yanks people around on such short notice," Daniel said.

"Most of us at NCIS are civilians, so we're not as used to it either," Tony admitted. "Quite a few of the families have just bought themselves and the essentials, for now, and have someone back home actually packing up their home. And I know Agent Hanna isn't moving right away, so his wife and kids are still home in LA. One of our lawyers is coming from NCIS — Michelle Lee — and she's the only parent her kid sister has. She can't leave the kid home alone, so she's delaying her move two weeks until school's out, and we'll do without her for now. Same with the Duncans — one's arriving by overnight transpo tonight to make tomorrow's check in, the other's staying back with the kids for two weeks. On the plus side, it means they're still on the ground back in the DMV and able to handle things for those of us who are here."

"DMV?" Daniel questioned.

"DC-Maryland-Virginia. DC isn't technically a state, so calling us a tri-state area is misleading. Most locals use DMV instead: same meaning. We've also got a couple of reservists or military brats in our ranks, who are old pros at the moving thing, though. And some of my agents were actually Afloat when they were pulled to this duty, so their things were already in storage somewhere. For them it was just a matter of shifting from one storage unit to another."

"Wow, that's…" Daniel paused. "Well I was going to say that that doesn't sound like much of a way to live and then I realized that Nick and I were both living out of storage units here in the States while we worked on digs around the world, so it isn't like I've got room to talk."

Tony laughed. "Yeah, the military gets a bad rap for dragging people off at the drop of a hat, but they don't have the monopoly. Anyway, I don't want to keep you up, but I just wanted to know if you wanted a lift tomorrow? I'm using my car like a beacon to guide my troops in first thing, but I don't have any plans for the evening, if you wanted to actually hang out."

"Th— that would be great!" Daniel agreed. "It would be nice to get to know you a little better, out of the Mountain."

"Great! It's a date!" Tony shot him a huge grin. "I'll see you in the morning!" He knew he had a bit of a bounce in his step as he made his way down the hall to the living room, but Tony didn't care. He had a date with Daniel tomorrow!

As Tony sank wearily into his seat in the Officer's Mess he thought that chaos was probably the best word to describe his morning. Using his car as a beacon had worked perfectly, and Cynthia was one of the first to arrive. Tony had her organizing people at the car and he brought them in groups of four to security, where he turned them over to Staff Sergeant Walker. Once they were through the initial intake — being photographed, adding their fingerprints to the system, and getting their key cards — they were sent into the empty office next door to arrange for their email and general system login and passwords with Technical Sergeant Peters.

Tony had also slipped in an airman with a clipboard, where everyone could sign up for the day and time window — morning, afternoon, or evening — when they would need moving support. After that was completed, one of Walker's airmen escorted each group down one level to HR and Payroll to make sure that their paperwork was all in order. From there, the airman escorted each group through their first experience with the second security checkpoint and elevator exchange, down to Medical for their intake down there.

Because everyone had arrived so early, Tony had just finished showing the last group inside when the call came to the Security Station that his first batch of people was freed from the Infirmary. Tony got down through the multiple elevators and checkpoints like a pro, and rescued the group — Delores, Winnie, Major Michaelson, and Bethany — from the clutches of the Doctors. He brought them to his office first, making sure they knew where it was, and gave each of them one of the map packets he had drawn up the day before. He left them to find their offices on their own, with a promise that they could call his cell if they needed anything. Tony then grabbed the rest of the packets and, after a quick detour to Paul's office to find out the location of his phone — Lab 14B down in the science haven on Level 19 — he was able to pick it up. The modifications were finished, as promised, and the Sergeant had already set it up to forward his office extensions, so he was able to tuck it into his pocket as is and head out.

Tony's timing was excellent, as he arrived at the Medical Level just as his next batch of employees was being freed. After escorting Dr. Perkins and Gerald to their domains just down the hall, and making sure they knew where to find him on the maps he provided, he took Captain Perez and Cassie back up to their domain on Level 17. He spent the rest of the morning showing people around and fielding calls from various Sergeants following up with him from the day before. He had finally gotten everyone situated by 1100, and was able to check his email, which had easily taken up the last hour with more follow ups. Finally, Tony was able to escape to the Mess and fortify himself with some relatively palatable tacos and burritos.

"Long morning?" Daniel asked, appearing behind Tony and placing his tray down in the empty space beside him.

Tony couldn't help but grin at his soulmate, but then added a theatrical groan. "You have no idea! I had seventeen employees to run through intake here today, and there were another eight at Area 51. Two of whom should now be in the air to McMurdo, and arriving down there some time this evening. I've got another handful in each place reporting for the first time tomorrow. Hopefully the rest will be assigned by Monday, but…" he shrugged. Now that she was checked in and had found her office, Cynthia was in charge of coordinating with their higher ups to get the rest of his people in place.

"Wow," Daniel sounded impressed. "That is a busy morning."

"Yeah, the rest of the afternoon is broken into a bunch of briefings, basically to check in on each new sub-department we've created under the SGSI," Tony explained. "And introducing my people to the people already here who they'll work closest with."

"None of your people are being assigned to 'gate teams, right?" Daniel asked.

"Nope, though I know JAG — my lawyers —" he clarified at Daniel's blank look, "have already talked about signing treaties and something about contracts, that gave me the impression that they'd be going through the gate at some point. Just, not on a regular basis on a 'gate team as such."

A moment later, Paul appeared in front of them. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"Please," Tony held out his hand. "So, how long before you head back to DC?" he asked.

"I'm yours tomorrow, then I'll be checking in at Area 51 for a few days, then back to DC on Sunday night," Paul explained.

"Part of me wants to go check on Area 51," Tony admitted. "I feel like I'm leaving Paula in the lurch, trying to do my and Cynthia's jobs there. I've got a half dozen Sergeants helping me, a cadre of airmen, you and now Cynthia, but she's all alone. I mean, she's got office support, but they don't know any more about the Base than she does. I don't know if her supplies arrived, or if she had help organizing them. I don't even know if they set everything out properly based on our blueprints; and I can't picture anything!" he finished in frustration.

Paul considered that for a moment, then offered, "I can fly out tonight instead of tomorrow night, if you want, and check up on her."

"Really? I don't want to put you out…" Tony was torn.

"Other than a few video meetings, I'm completely at the disposal of the SGSI this week," Paul waved aside his concern. "I assumed you would need my help more, but you're right about your support structure here, and it might be more helpful for you to have me coordinating in Nevada where you can't be. Now that you've got your cell, I can get ahold of you at any time, and vice versa, if there is something you need urgently from me." Tony had been given Paul's cell number back in DC, when they were first getting started.

"That would honestly make me feel a lot better," Tony admitted. "I don't doubt that Paula will make an excellent SSA, but all this administrative stuff is not what we've trained for. I'm actually wondering if I should get an executive assistant to handle that kind of stuff there — one more experienced than the standard support staff she's got. Basically a junior Cynthia to handle the more advanced administrative stuff and coordinate with us."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Daniel jumped in. "You said before that you needed Cynthia here to handle the administrative side of things while you're leading your team. It makes sense that you might need someone to handle the same kind of duties for your team lead at Area 51."

"I'm sold." Tony pulled out his phone and fired off a short email to Cynthia, asking for her to arrange it. "And yes, Paul, if you're alright with it, I'd love to get you to Area 51 sooner than later."

"No problem, Tony." Paul agreed.

They shifted to small talk, unrelated to work, for the rest of the meal, and Tony was hyper-conscious of his usual flirting as he tried to tone it down around Daniel. All too soon, Tony had finished and, with a promise that Daniel would find him when the archeologist was done for the day, Tony went back to work. As he'd foretold, he spent the rest of the afternoon checking in with his field agents, who had gotten the bullpens squared away and were starting in on old case files, and then each of his departments.

His first stop was Abby's lab, where he found her happily directing a few familiar airmen in where exactly to place each of her new babies. Tony greeted his helpers from yesterday, and then asked Abby to make up a list of anything that was still missing, or had been forgotten in their initial purchasing orders. Then he hauled her next door to introduce her to Sergeant Siler. To his relief, the man didn't even blink at Abby's outfit or enthusiastic greeting, though she was wearing a muted — for her — black jeans and band tee, instead of miniskirt and tank top. Once they were happily jabbering away in technical jargon he didn't understand, Tony excused himself and made his way back to Medical to check in with Gerald and Dr. Perkins.

They were also in the process of putting things away, and Tony was relieved to see that their cabinets, tables, desks, and such had indeed been delivered since his first inspection. He didn't need to make any introductions this time, as they had both been introduced to all of the base doctors during their physical that morning. With a reminder to call him with problems, and to make a list of anything missing or forgotten, Tony caught the elevator back up to his next stop.

Deciding to start at the top and work his way back to his own office, Tony's first stop was Level 2, and he quickly made his way through the warren towards their small HR office. Delores and Connors seemed to be getting along just fine — Tony learned that Connors had known he was in over his head, and had no previous experience with civilian paperwork, so rather than feeling slighted, he was grateful to follow Delores's lead. They also confirmed that there was no specific civilian HR rep at Area 51 — all the paperwork had been handled by Connors — and Delores had already told Cynthia that she wanted one. With that office humming along, Tony made his excuses and headed off.

Down on Level 16, Tony poked his head into the observation rooms, and found that not only was the equipment in place, but his stools had been delivered — three for each window. Poking his head into the team bunk, he found that Sergeant Augustino had run with his suggestion, and the first five footlockers were stenciled with the names of himself, Perez, Michaelson, Cassie, and even Farmer, though she hadn't checked in yet. Everything Tony might put in his footlocker was still in his go bag at Daniel's, but he intended to take care of that this weekend — he couldn't wear the same three sets of clothes for two weeks straight, after all!

Coming around the hall, he found the doors to the new Server room propped open, and he poked his head in there next. Pamela Miller was happily directing airmen moving around large pieces of equipment, and Tony caught her eye. She grinned and pointed him next door to the cyber offices. Taking her word that she was fine — and still not exactly sure what was happening in that room — Tony followed her suggestion and popped in on Jace in the main cyber office. He was half underneath a desk, doing something with a computer tower, but he pulled himself out to check in with Tony.

Tony passed along the information he'd gotten from Siler about the different sergeants that Jace's team would be working with, and then offered the same reminder to call and let him know if anything was missing or forgotten. Jace also assured him that he was coordinating with Penny and Dr. Donovan at Area 51, and that their personal firewalls — to keep the rest of the geeks out of sensitive case information — would be up by the weekend. On his way out, Tony also poked his head into the War Room, and saw that the maps and white board he'd requisitioned had been delivered, in addition to yesterday's pile of office supplies, and he made a mental note to have one of his agents come up and organize the room.

That done, Tony headed back down to 17 and circled through Legal first. Winnie Bromstead and Lieutenant Nicole Greene had each claimed their offices and were happily set up, and Lieutenant Mandy Greene was doing the same in their support bullpen. Winnie had a bit of news for him: apparently her twin sister, Millie, was supposedly working on a project in Antarctica called AMANDA, though it didn't fit her specialties. With what they now knew about the Stargate Program operations in Antarctica, she had asked the Program HR people, and discovered that her sister was actually one of the astrophysicists working at the Ancient Outpost.

Normally, she would have nothing to do with Tony's people, save for getting to know whatever agents were sent to McMurdo, but Winnie had already sent her an email, asking her to take Stan and Sam under her wing. Like with Bethany and her family, it struck Tony how funny fate could be, with relatives both working for the program without realizing it. It also made him wonder if any of his other people might find their soulmates through the SGCs redacted files, just as he — well, Morrow — had found Daniel.

That digression aside, his legal team was finding their footing, so Tony made his way to Evidence where Bethany and Sana were settling in. A quick check in with Bethany confirmed that she did want to handle evidence check outs in the other room, so Tony gave her the information for Sergeants Augustino and Peters, to arrange for the second desk and computer. Other than that, they were quite pleased with the work Tony had done yesterday, and were already coordinating with Jivin to get old evidence out of SGC's general records storage and into their hands.

Tony's next stop were the team bullpens where his agents had made short work of claiming desks and were already going through old files. Since there were only three of them, Perez had joined Cassie and Michaelson in the Bravo Bullpen, sitting at one of the two unclaimed desks as they talked through the cases. They had nothing to report yet, and after promising to join them when he was able, Tony headed back out. He passed his and Cynthia's office and popped into the two-man Records office first.

Jivin wasn't there, so Tony back-tracked to their support office. Sure enough, there he found Jivin, along with Kristy Duncan, wading through the records there. Kristy didn't look quite as jet-lagged as she had at check in that morning — clearly she'd gotten her hands on some caffeine in the meantime. She and Jivin didn't need anything from Tony, save for more people, and maybe a time machine, Jivin joked. Tony, remembering the side note from one of his first briefings on Monday, carefully didn't say anything and laughed along with Kristy. He was fairly certain that using the Stargate's time travel abilities to go back and catch up on reports was a gross misuse of resources, and the kind of thing that might accidentally blow up in their faces.

Finally, Tony popped into his own office, grabbed his laptop and the handful of pages that had been left for him, and then headed next door to Cynthia. She did have a number of things to discuss with him, and they spent over an hour together going over it all. Tony cursed the fact that his laptop didn't connect to the internal internet, as he couldn't check his email from it, but at least he could check his own notes and type up new lists as needed. Once they had covered the most important things, Tony was able to slip back into his office and check his email. It took him over an hour to catch up there, and when he had finally concluded all of his 'boss' duties, it was already 1630. Figuring it was better late than never, Tony spent his last half hour in the Bravo Bullpen with the other field agents, having them catch him up on what they'd found.

At the moment, there were three open cases in the Mountain — all of them revolving around missing supplies. The Mess hall was missing about a dozen pieces of cutlery, one of the labs had had a small synthesizer walk off, and then there were the SGSI's own missing boxes of colored pencils and ear plugs that hadn't been delivered yesterday. Jokingly, Tony commanded them to prioritize that case. Officially, none of them started work until Monday, they were only expected to check in and set up today. Since none of the open cases were high priority, Tony saw no need to have his people jump in before the weekend. Of course, they might get a hot case in the next few days, but barring that, Tony expected them to focus on finding a place to stay and completing the various arrangements that came with moving to their new duty station. Most of the old files had been waiting years for them, and they'd certainly wait a few more days.

When his phone alarm went off at 1700, Tony sent the teams home, with the caveat that they swept through the rest of the SGSI offices on their way out and sent everyone else home until Monday as well. With Cassie promising to drag Abby away from her babies, Tony headed to Cynthia for a final check in before he dismissed her too. He had just returned to his office and was dashing off a few email replies when Daniel knocked, and Tony quickly shut down for the night. It was a bit of a novelty, not having to stay until 1800 or 1900 when Gibbs dismissed them; Tony was so used to putting in 12 hour days that the standard work-week, or 8 hour police shift, were distant memories.

After Daniel confessed that he had no real food at his place, and since Tony had already noted his sparse kitchen utensils, they decided on take out. Tony resolved to get his kitchen boxes out of storage as soon as possible, so he could get a chance to cook a real meal for Daniel. But for the night, they stuck with Daniel's favorite Turkish place. Finally, they were settled in on his couch, with an array of koftes and pilavs spread out on the coffee table.

"So…" Daniel began.

"So what would you like to know first?" Tony figured he'd give them a direction. "I'm afraid it's hard to turn off my investigator brain. If you start the questions I think it'll feel less like an interrogation," he joked.

Daniel smiled. "Uh, if you say so. Where are you from?"

"Long Island, originally," Tony replied easily. "Then a couple of different places, before I finally landed in the DMV. Between Baltimore and DC I've been in that area for a little over six years now. How about you?"

"W— well, as a child I lived in many different places. My parents were archeologists, so I traveled around on digs with them. I was homeschooled, for the most part, until I was older. I moved around a lot, until I finally ended up here on the Stargate Program. My time in Colorado is the longest I've spent anywhere, if you ignore the fact that I spend half of that time off-world."

Tony stopped mid-bite and shook his head. "Wow, still getting used to the off-world thing," he confessed. "Especially when you use it so casually. Like it's as exciting as going down the street for coffee."

Daniel grinned. "We do become pretty jaded and blase, I guess. You'll be talking the same way, soon. It actually took me longer to get used to the military things than the alien things."

"Really?" Tony was no stranger to adjusting to the military, coming to NCIS, but he still couldn't wrap his head around that.

"W— well, as an archeologist, I'm used to stepping into a new culture. I— in a manner of speaking, walking among the natives on P4X-907 isn't all that much different than walking among the tribes of the Yucatan. But being surrounded by Americans — ostensibly my own culture — using a whole slew of new terms and meanings… More than that, the mindset is so different! When you're an archeologist, everything moves at a much slower pace. The Air Force is always rushing. Translate this now, get the locals to like us now, figure out the lingual shifts and get us communicating now, find the mysterious power source now. Learning the differences between literal alien cultures and ours is easy compared to learning how to deal with Jack breathing down my neck constantly."

Tony laughed. "God, that sounds like Gibbs. I had tough trainers at the police academy — probably even former military among them — but they had nothing on Gibbs. He expected his agents to do the 'I say jump, you say how high' thing, except he wouldn't say 'jump'; we were just supposed to know instinctively that he wanted us to jump, and also how high, and just do it automatically. I swear, he wouldn't be happy until he got an agent with ESP who could read his mind. Which, now that I know aliens are a thing, that example seems less far-fetched. I became an expert at his micro-expressions and tells, though. I'm sure to the Probies it probably looked like ESP."

"Jack was about that impatient, but at least he would usually tell me what he wanted," Daniel chuckled. "Which, most of the time, was to stop rambling and get to the point, but still. I learned how to fire a weapon, how to hike with a pack, how to understand military hand signs… ten years ago I was a total geek: skinny, floppy hair… you wouldn't recognize me now."

"Ten years ago…" Tony did the mental math. "I was just getting out of grad school and going into the police academy. So I was… well, about the same shape, actually, but a hell of a lot greener. And a lot more anxious about you and my place in the world."

"How so?" Daniel asked.

"Well, I was nineteen, end of junior year, when you added the PhD," Tony briefly held up his wrist in explanation. "Before that, I thought I had a plan. and then you became a Doctor, and — I'm secure enough to admit it now — back then that freaked the hell out of me. I mean, you were a Doctor! And then my senior year, the big game against the Michigan State Wolverines, and my leg gets broken in three places. My whole future was in turmoil. I was kind of lurching forward in increments, taking it one step at a time, as my physical therapist would say, but without the kind of good mental headspace that usually implies. I was a bit of a mess inside for the next two years, though I did my best to hide it."

"What happened?" Daniel asked.

Tony wasn't sure if Daniel was asking what had gone wrong, or what had fixed him. He decided to answer the latter. "It was my advisor in graduate school who finally got my head screwed on straight," Tony admitted wryly. "I hadn't told anyone why I was pursuing my degree, and I couldn't make up my mind what I wanted to do after I got my master's. Part of me wanted to go into either the police or fire academy; maybe combine both my master's and bachelor's experiences and become an EMT. I wanted to be down on the ground, helping people."

"But part of me thought I should be going for that medical degree, or becoming a lawyer, or something else important. You had that PhD after your name, and I wanted one too, to show you I was as good as you. I was kind of beating myself up about it, and Jen, she pulls me into her office, throws a bottle of water at my head, and tells me to calm the fuck down — direct quote."

Daniel snorted and Tony allowed himself a little chuckle. "Yeah, she was fire and brimstone like that. One of those gals with gray hair, but she could be anywhere from forty to a flawless eighty and you'd never figure it out. She treated us all like we were her kids. She figured out that I was always fidgeting with stuff, so whenever she pulled me in for a meeting, she'd throw a little finger puzzle or a rubix cube or something at me to play with. She hated to give me water bottles, cause I'd shred the labels and make a mess, but I guess she thought I'd need the extra destructive action that day. Or maybe I looked dehydrated, I don't know."

"Anyway, she finally got me to tell the story, how you got your PhD when I was a junior, the same time as I pulled this kid out of a fire—" Daniel made a questioning noise, and Tony waved it away. "I'll tell you that story later, but for now the relevant bit is that it gave me the taste for helping people, you know? That's where the EMT-Firefighter-Cop thing came from."

"So I explained to her: it had been senior year, just after Thanksgiving, the big game, and my leg got broken all to hell. Goodbye pro, goodbye coach, goodbye worthless Kinesiology degree. So I'm laying in the hospital all alone over Christmas break, and I've talked to both of my major advisors, and I'm looking at a less than exceptional future. And here I've got a soulmate who's already gotten his PhD! I thought I had to think of something meaningful to do, to be worthy of you… I thought Jen was going to fire another water bottle at me when I said that," Tony rushed to say, laughing ruefully.

"She asked why I had picked criminal justice for my master's; I told her it was because of the fire, and I was toying with the idea of going into law school. I— after breaking my leg, I didn't have sports practices anymore, or games — just physical therapy — so I had a ton of free time my last semester. Thankfully my scholarships had already paid for the year, and weren't dependent on me continuing to play. Some of them don't have injury clauses, so if you get hurt, you basically have to drop out until you're better, but I had good ones. Anyway, I was able to squeeze in this extra pre-med class my last semester, cause — with a kinesiology degree — that's a pretty good career track."

"But I bombed it. I'm not great with Latin, and in retrospect a class about diseases probably wasn't the best introduction to the field. It fit my schedule the best, but it was nothing like the stuff I'd taken before. With the anatomy classes, you can see how everything connects, and you can even feel a lot of it on your own body, but with diseases, it was just lists of causes, and lists of symptoms, and all these nonsensical names based on some guy who was the first to show that this kind of stomach worm has a slightly different color than that kind of stomach worm..." Tony threw his hands up in remembered frustration.

"So going to med school was off the table," Daniel summarized kindly.

"Yeah," Tony huffed. "So since I wasn't going to use my degree for the obvious reasons, and I'd been toying with this protecting people thing, I chose criminal justice for my master's. And that's when I figured out that law classes were just like medical classes. The ones about the basics were fine, but once we got past 'these kinds of things are illegal no matter what, but those kinds of things are okay in certain circumstances' and got to the minutia? Back came the indecipherable Latin with limited context and about a million precedent cases to memorize. So no law school for poor, stupid Tony."

He snorted at the memory. "Jen smacked my arm when I said that," he reminisced. "But she got me to explain how I wanted to be good enough to deserve someone who had gotten a PhD so young — I didn't realize you were that much older than me, at the time, so it felt like you were the same age but two degrees ahead — and then she finally laid into me."

"She asked, why did I think that your PhD had to be in something important? What if you were just an accountant who liked math or wanted a pay raise, so you got a PhD in math? It didn't mean you were some kind of super genius; lots of people got PhDs. What if you got the degree to become a teacher or a counselor? That didn't take genius, and was about on par with being a police officer, from a public service perspective. Then she said, what if you were a super genius, but had gotten tired of doing math or whatever all the time and had quit to just become a grocery store cashier. Was I going to look down on you? And how did I know that your degree was in something meaningful? What if you'd gotten a degree in something obscure, like the study of krill, and it was utterly useless? Or what if it had been in art or music, like my second bachelors, and we might have something in common?"

"She verbally walloped me upside the head and got me to stop — idolizing is probably the best word — your degree. Then we sat down and talked about what I actually wanted to do with my life. That's when I chose to go to the police academy, though I worked as an EMT to pay for it. Once I was through and actually working at a precinct I finally gave up the side hustle and started slowly working on my PhD — one I was interested in."

"I think I need to look Jen up and send her a gift basket," Daniel said quietly. "It sounds like she helped you a lot. And if you'd become a sports medicine doctor or a lawyer, we probably never would have come together. Unless you somehow found your way into our medical cadre at the Mountain, or prosecuted for NCIS or something."

That made Tony grin, even if it was a little watery, and meet Daniel's eye for the first time in the story. "I wouldn't have been caught dead at JAG," he admitted. "You couldn't have paid me to join the military back then."

"And yet you became a Navy Cop," Daniel teased.

"Hey, Civilian!" Tony protested. "And like you're one to talk! You even wear the BDUs!"

"I know," Daniel made a pathetic face, "They finally corrupted me. I even got a regulation haircut eventually."

"So what did you actually get your doctorate in?" Daniel asked once they had stopped laughing.

"Ah, well, that's kinda interesting. See, for my kinesiology degree, I had this class about the social construct and meaning around sports, and I had a few anthropology classes in world music as part of my other major. Then, through my Criminal Justice Master's, I got a lot of the sociopolitical stuff. It was all kinda rumbling in the back of my head. I almost went with psychology, actually, because I'd touched on that in both kinesiology and criminal justice, but in the end I decided against it. I took a few more classes here and there, especially because at Peoria they put me on Vice—" he saw Daniel's confusion and clarified, "Sex, drugs, and Rock 'n' Roll, basically. Anyway, most new cops get put there, because they're fresh faces, so it's easy to put them undercover as hookers, johns, drug dealers, what have you, without the locals getting suspicious."

"Anyway, I have a natural talent for undercover work, and I wasn't squeamish about working Vice, which some guys get super defensive the first time they're told to go under as a male prostitute and realize that the johns are also male, let me tell you. Anyway, I was good at it, and then at Philadelphia I spent almost my entire two-year stint undercover. But going under is all tied up with psychology, just like criminal profiling, which was my backup plan, if I washed out of the academy, incidentally."

"So I took a few psychology classes here and there when I saw an interesting one, — I'm probably halfway to a master's in it, all told — but I chose to do a distance course from Columbia instead: Sociocultural Anthropology. It's basically the sociopolitical stuff, and the anthropological stuff, and a little of the psychological stuff, all rolled into one."

"That sounds fascinating!" Daniel said, and Tony thought he looked sincere. They hadn't known each other long, but Tony was pretty confident so far in his ability to read Daniel. He wasn't sure how much of that was him idealizing Daniel and how much was true, but he was rolling with it for now.

"So what about you?" Tony decided to ask

"Oh, well, like I said, my parents were archeologists, so I grew up in this pretty unusual, unstructured learning environment, but it let me move at my own pace. When I eventually joined the regular school system it was a bit of an adjustment, but I was already pretty far ahead. I ended up graduating at sixteen, and going to college early. I raced through my bachelors — double of anthropology and linguistics — and then my Masters in Archeology. A lot of my coursework stacked, so I was able to get a second Masters in Anthropology one semester later, because so many of the classes overlapped with my prior degrees."

"I did my first two PhDs jointly, so it took me five years, but I got my doctorates in archeology and anthropology. I added my PhD in Philology — which is basically like archeology but for languages — two years later. Again, a lot of the classes stacked, and I already knew the languages I was covering in my program, so I tested out of pretty much half of the units."

Tony realized that he was gaping when Daniel looked up at him and his face flashed with contrition. "I'm a natural polyglot— uh, that's a—"

"Person who speaks many languages," Tony filled in.

"Wow, yeah. I should have known you'd know that — you've studied anthropology," Daniel smirked. "I'm just surrounded by military types and people in the hard sciences — outside my own department it often seems like I'm speaking a different language from everyone. Wh— which is funny, because within my department I'm usually actually speaking different languages, but then my people actually understand me…"

"How many languages do you speak?" Tony asked, a little afraid of the answer.

"Well, the short answer is twenty nine—"

"Twenty nine?" Tony couldn't help the outburst.

Daniel flushed. "Uh, yeah, but the longer answer is not exactly twenty nine. Not by my standards."

"What does that mean?" Tony asked curiously.

"Well, I generally consider myself really fluent if I can read, speak, and write in a language. Most of those twenty nine are partial, or ones where I can get by, but am nowhere close to passing for a native. So it's more like thirteen and sixteen."

"Oh," Tony considered that for a minute. "I thought I was pretty impressive, but not by your standards. I guess you'd call me three and five?"

"You know eight languages?" Daniel seemed excited. "That's quite a lot for someone who isn't specifically a linguist, Tony! What do you speak?"

"Uh, English, Italian, and Spanish fluently," Tony felt a little embarrassed compared to Daniel, but tried to resuscitate his usual pride in his lingual skills. "Latin, like I said, is hard for me, but I've got so many medical and legal terms floating in my head that I can do a hack job translating most of the phrases I encounter at work."

"Oh, I was rubbish at Latin for years," Daniel admitted. "And then one of the languages we encountered through the Stargate — we call it Ancient — has a completely different written alphabet, but is essentially Latin in spoken form. And I had to become fluent in it. I can read romanized Latin now, but it always takes me a bit to translate the alphabet if it's written in the original."

"Well that makes me feel slightly better," Tony admitted. "Lets see, I've got Arabic — you might call me fluent at that, actually, but I'm not sure — German, Greek, a bit of Mandarin, oh! and a smattering of Hebrew. I've kind of also picked up French by osmosis? You know how it is when you know two romance languages..."

"You can hack translate through the others," Daniel agreed with a nod.

"So I guess if I count the Hebrew and French, I'm really at three and seven? Maybe four and six?"

"Tony, that's ten languages!" Daniel was slightly wide-eyed. "One of the linguists in my department only has four and three. Tony, regardless of your current position in the Mountain, I'd be willing to hire you for the Linguistics department today. Especially if you were willing to firm up one of your iffy languages, or specialize in one of the alien ones we've been cataloging."

"Really?" Tony had always been proud of his language skills, but finding out that his soulmate was literally a linguist and the polyglot-iest person ever had dented his confidence there. Hearing that his skills were not as weak as they suddenly appeared was a bit of a salve on his bruised ego.

"The best part, though, is that Italian, Spanish, French, Greek, Mandarin, German, Arabic, and Hebrew are all languages that I speak, meaning that we can speak them together. And if you want to strengthen any of the ones you're shaky on, I can help you!" Daniel looked really happy with the thought, and Tony considered it. The idea of sharing languages with his soulmate was kind of awesome, and the idea that Daniel would help him improve his skills was also kind of sweet. As long as he wasn't a jerk about teaching them.

"What else can you speak?" Tony asked.

Daniel leaned back comfortably. "Well, aside from what we've talked about, I'm fluent in Dutch, Portuguese, Egyptian, Russian—"

"Oh, I know a smattering of Russian too!" Tony crowed. "I hadn't thought about that. I mean, I can curse in several languages that I can't speak, but I didn't think about the fact that I've got a bit more in Russian than the cursing. Although, they aren't the most useful words…" he trailed off.

"How have you picked up so many languages, if I can ask?" Daniel said. "I mean, you clearly weren't trying to pick them up, and if your vocabulary is oddly skewed…"

"Oh, yeah, no problem," Tony waved his hand. "Let's see, I learned Spanish from the— okay, so this actually requires a bit of an explanation," Tony squirmed, not having thought through what he would have to reveal. Although, Daniel had taken his earlier admission about his scholarly crisis in stride, so maybe this wouldn't ruin their relationship before it really got started.

"That's okay, I didn't mean to pry," Daniel quickly backtracked.

"No, that's okay," Tony said. "If my freak out about your doctorates didn't put you off. Hell, if aliens don't freak you out, then you'll probably handle my childhood." He offered a smile, though he knew it wasn't his best. Daniel matched him and even gave his knee a reassuring pat, so Tony decided to forge ahead.

"So the long version is that my dad is a con man, and he conned his way into marrying my mom by pretending to be connected to the Italian DiNozzos, instead of the disconnected, bastard, American branch. My mom was British blue blood, and when her family found out… well it was too late to annul the marriage, because mom was pregnant, but they basically wrapped up all their money for her in a trust, so dad couldn't touch it. She could still use it to maintain her lifestyle, but he couldn't. So I lived in this big house in Long Island, but nothing happened unless mom wanted it. I've got plenty of baggage to unpack around that if you want me to dust off my Psych 101, but that's basically the setting."

Tony risked a peak at Daniel, who hadn't run away screaming, and wasn't looking down at Tony for coming from money, so it was going as well as could be expected. "Right, so, the gardener, Raoul, and his assistant — who changed every year or so — spoke Spanish. So did the maids, usually. One spoke Portuguese, I think, but she didn't stick around long enough for me to get much more than that the languages were different. The cook, Sofia, was Italian, and so was my first nanny, Ariella. So when I was little, I actually heard more Spanish and Italian than English, until I started school. I rarely saw my dad, and mom wasn't the most…" he faltered at finding the right word. "Motherly." It wasn't the best fitting, but it was the best he could come up with.

"My piano teacher when I was a kid was this old German crone — right out of the Brothers Grimm," Tony continued, rushing on. "My mom wanted me to go to a proper British school when I was older, which meant I needed to know Latin and Greek, so I got a classics tutor when I was… six? Yeah, around then. I'd already started school, at least, so it must have been. Anyway, all but the Spanish and Italian ended when I was eight, which is why I'm less than fluent in the others."

"In college, I dated a few girls — and one guy — who spoke Mandarin, which is where I picked that up. The Arabic I took after 9/11, and I picked up the Hebrew in pieces in the last few months when we got tangled up in a case with Mossad. I was thinking about learning more of it before I was pulled into the Stargate Program. Since college, the way I've kept up with my languages — and the way I picked up the Russian — is by watching foreign movies. I go with the original language instead of English dubs, and stick to English subtitles when I need them, or use the native ones if possible, to help me pick up reading them. I considered a film degree, actually, at every step of the process. I love movies — it's something my mom shared with me." Tony rushed past that revelation too. "So, like, my spoken Greek is better than my Latin now because I haven't seen any Latin movies, but I've got a few dozen Greek ones. But I'm much better at reading Romanized Latin because of school, compared to reading Greek."

"I love watching foreign movies!" Daniel said excitedly. "I haven't had much time in the last few years, because the Stargate program is like lurching from one disaster to the next until free time is just a fond memory, but I'd love to have the time to do it again. We might even have some favorites in common, and we can share others with each other, discovering new ones that way!"

"That actually sounds great!" Tony agreed. The younger, stupid, version of himself had never imagined that Dr Daniel would have enjoyed watching movies with him, just as he hadn't imagined that his soul mate might have gotten an obscure degree, such as Philology, which he didn't even know how to spell. "That said, I think I digressed from the point. You were telling me the languages you speak?"

"Oh, yeah," Daniel shook his head to clear it. "Uh, a bunch of ancient ones, like Babylonian, Ancient Egyptian, Norse, Middle English, Mayan, Aztec, Phoenician, Linear A... there are a lot that kind of flow together. Like, I wanted to do archeological digs into Mayan and Aztec sites. That meant I had to speak Spanish and Portuguese to communicate with the locals, and to determine what they had already translated in the past, when the two languages were closer together in time. My parents were principally focused on the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures, so speaking Arabic, Farsi, Hebrew, and Egyptian to me was like Italian and Spanish to you — that's what the people around me spoke when I was young. Learning the ancient equivalents, or different dialects, just flowed naturally after. And there's a lot of what we talked about with the Romance languages. When I knew I was going to a region that spoke, say, Farsi, I'd brush up beforehand. Clear up those bits that tended to shift on account of so many similar languages rattling around in my head. When I do a translation, I use a dictionary if I can."

"That's one thing about the Stargate program, though. At first, we would just encounter a people on a planet, who were speaking what had been Egyptian six thousand years ago, but which had shifted and corrupted since. The word for blue that was also used for sky now meant purple because the sky on that planet was purple; that kind of thing. It was like they were speaking French and all I knew was Spanish and Italian, so while we could both get the gist, there were definite miscommunications. Not to mention culturally specific alien words that I just had no reference points for."

"Now that the program's grown quite a bit, and we have a whole linguistics department put together, things are different. The only teams who are allowed to make first contact are those with a linguist attached, and we do our best to get spoken and written samples of the native dialect. Those are brought back and whoever is fluent in the closest Earth language does the translation. You've still got the slippage effect, but you're sitting there with your translation dictionaries and your cultural dissertations and and the files we've compiled on the slippage we've already translated with this other alien culture that came from the same originating lingual family. Then that linguist's team studies the most important words — trade, war, gods, angry, good, bad, yes, no, and so on — and then the team goes back and attempts a second contact to actually communicate something."

"The hardest part is when you've got people who have no written language, or where the language they speak is just miles away from any of our collective knowledge."

"What do you do then?" Tony couldn't help but ask, though he had encountered people who didn't speak a language he knew more than once on the job, so he thought he had a fair idea.

"Just what you'd expect," Daniel snorted self-deprecatingly. "Lots of pointing and miming and speaking both sloooower and louder despite those not actually helping that much."

"It's oddly reassuring to learn that someone who speaks twenty nine languages still resorts to that," Tony teased gently, and was rewarded with a smile from Daniel. "So, if, for example, you needed a team to go to a planet that spoke space-Italian, and all your linguists were busy on other planets speaking space-Egyptian—"

"—Which is called Goa'uld, FYI," Daniel interjected.

Tony absorbed that for a moment before continuing, "Right. Well, if they were, does that mean I might be drafted to help, and might get to go through the 'gate and into space?"

Daniel opened his mouth, closed it quickly with a blink, and then started over. "Okay, first of all, all personnel in Stargate Command who are stationed at the Mountain, like you, have to go through the 'gate to at least the Alpha site, so they know what to do in case of an emergency evacuation. Second of all, everyone in the Mountain who knows how to shoot a weapon — like you — has to go through to the Beta site, where they can get training and test their proficiency at the things that aren't safe to use at the small firing range inside the Mountain."

"Third of all, everyone who tests positive for the ATA gene in a measurable amount — which you have in spades — has to go through the 'gate to the Beta site to learn how to use the Ancient technology We've got. You can only use the control chair in Antarctica, because it can't be moved, but the rest we've got set up where it won't accidentally cause an international incident. Fourth, you're going to be dealing with the higher ups and the Politicians, which means you're going to have to escort them to the Gamma site, which means you'll need to be escorted there a few times yourself."

"Fifth of all, I can almost guarantee that you're going to have investigative things to do on other alien planets, not just our backup sites, because we've run into those kinds of things before, and usually SG-1 takes care of it just because we're the flagship team, never mind that none of us have experience investigating our way out of a paper bag, so you'll definitely be going to space to deal with all of that crap so I no longer have to watch Jack flail about at it. That also means they'll probably assign you as a specialist adjunct to whichever team is likely to accompany you on those trips, and you'll be sent out to some of our allies a few times with that team, just to get you used to the procedure and the ins and outs of dealing with aliens."

"And sixth, yes, I'm totally going to abuse your polyglot self and drag you around being a linguist if you'll let me." Daniel concluded with a wide smile. "So getting a chance to go through the 'gate, be in space, and see aliens is sooo not a concern for you — I'd say the bigger concern is whether you'll ever be Earthside long enough to see your bunk."

"Right," Tony knew his eyes were wide, but he couldn't decide if he was more surprised, happy, or panicked. "I… I speak four and seven languages and I don't have a good word for that."

"Try midgjii" Daniel offered. "It's the Lorisian corruption of Gaelic and basically means happy-scared-excited-freaking-out."

"Yeah, that'd do it," Tony nodded. "Midgjii. I'm feeling Midgjii right now."

"You'll get used to that, working at Stargate," Daniel confirmed with a knowing smile. "It both does, and never does, get easier."

"That both is, and isn't, reassuring," Tony snarked back.

"And that means you'll fit in here perfectly!" Daniel laughed.

Chapter Text

"What was your specific area of focus for your PhD?" Daniel eventually asked, once the laughter had died down.

"Well, as you can imagine, I toyed with a few ideas. My runner up, which I was totally convinced I was actually going to do for about a month, was on the cultural impact of cinema, and how we transitioned to home movies, rentals, and finally the rise of streaming sites. The problem really was that it could have been really broad and surface layer, or it could have been super drilled down and focused, and I just couldn't pick. I wanted to do something in the middle, but that would have been the kind of thing you spend an entire career writing books about. Like I could have done a handful just on the rise of film as a medium, and then on the creation of movie houses, and what a social event going to the movies became. And then there are the places that we consider third world, where they didn't start with cinema back then, but suddenly had it thrust upon them by the time that we had talkies and sometimes even color! They missed the whole infant and toddler stages, and their relationship with movies was entirely different because of it. There are some very interesting theories about the way the internet is changing how we relate to movies too… I'm sorry, I'm babbling," Tony cut himself off.

"Not at all," Daniel disagreed. "Besides, Jack will be more than happy to tell you about how I constantly babble about my field." He offered Tony a reassuring smile, which he returned. "So you decided…"

"Well the bottom line was that there was just way too much for me to cover with movies, without spending the rest of my life on the topic. Not that I couldn't also do that with what I did choose, which was the impact of sports, actually."

"Sports?" Daniel repeated, but thankfully without the disbelief or scorn that Tony was used to.

"Yeah, so I did this whole section on ancient cultures — the Mayan had this ball game called pitz or pokolpok, as I'm sure you know—" Daniel nodded, so Tony continued. "And the— okay, so there were tons of examples of, kind of individual sports, like wrestling, boxing, racing, swimming, archery, that kind of thing. Though some cultures have evidence of team rowing competitions. But when you're really talking about team sports… Did you know that Ancient Scotland had basically field hockey? The Romans had basically rugby, and the Chinese — this is the one that always stuck with me — they had gymnastics, but also football! The soccer kind! And I tied those in to the Olympics, as that was really the first time that different societies — all Greek, but still — came together to compete against each other like that."

"I also looked at one off examples through history where trading partners or colonizers came in through 'friendly' matches, but I literally could have written a whole second thesis on that alone, so it was just lightly touched on for context. I could have gone off on a whole different tangent about horse-based sports, like polo and jousting, but I already had way too much to delve into. So then I really focused on the Olympics. There's some fascinating stuff about the reasoning behind the modern restart, and of course the various boycotts, and the world wars… there's actually this phenomenon, which, again, I could write a whole paper about, where after watching the Olympics, students display more interest not only in sports but in geography and learning about other cultures. And it introduces sports that are not native to an area, usually due to geographical conditions or equipment availability. Cool Running isn't just a movie, it's a documented phenomenon! It's like it flips this switch in their mind that tells them that there's more to the world than their little corner of it, and that's all due to sports!"

"That sounds remarkable," Daniel said, without a trace of irony. "And actually like something we could use in the Stargate program."

"Really? Why?" Tony was trying hard not to be suspicious, but he'd had the rug pulled out from under him by supposed friends, coworkers, and lovers too many times before.

"We're always looking to understand— well, I should clarify. The NID and other Brass above us seem to think that the purpose of intergalactic exploration is to find weapons, and maybe medical and technological advances. If it doesn't get in the way of the guns, mind you."

Tony snorted. He'd met plenty of officers who felt that way in his time at NCIS.

"Yes, well, for those of us on the ground, we also have all of these alien cultures and languages to explore. I could have a hundred people in my department and still have to pick and choose between which planets we studied." Daniel waved his hands to encompass the scope of the problem. Tony gaped, somehow not having quite grasped the scale of their operation before that moment.

"Do you know how many of those cultures probably have a sport, or, more likely, more than one? And we have maybe three recorded, because someone on the contact team made a note in their mission report that they walked past kids playing with a ball, or in a bit of a scrimmage over some item. Now imagine if we found a culture that had evolved a sport in a similar way to Earth's version. People who don't want to trade us for food and vaccines might be willing to show us their secretly powerful weapons in exchange for a dozen soccer balls and nets! Not to mention, as you said, the ancient cultures that the Goa'uld plucked off Earth and deposited on those planets already had sports — the ones you were talking about! Now think of the chance to see how that sport evolved in the… well closed system in that they wouldn't have connected with other Earth cultures anymore, but also open system, in that the Goa'uld traveled between planets, and there might have been some cultural osmosis. You could probably write an entire case of books on the sociocultural anthropology of alien sports, Tony!"

"Wow."

"And that isn't even touching on the arts, music, literature… we are barely even scratching the surface of these cultures when we come in and grunt 'weapons?' at them!" Daniel complained. "God, some days I really wish we had a civilian in charge — someone who understood the cultural significance of what we're doing. We could create another dozen — two dozen! — teams just for anthropological studies and send them back to the safe planets. We could be doing so much, and we do almost nothing!"

"So, like Jane Goodall, but for aliens?"

"Kind of," Daniel agreed. "though she was more of a biological anthropologist, studying animals from both a physical and cultural standpoint, and especially in comparison between primates and humans… but in this case, most of the aliens we meet are already extremely humanoid — I mean they literally are humans who were scooped off of Earth and dumped somewhere else, so their cultures diverged, but their biology usually didn't. So for that we'd need more of an ethnologist, like Frank Boas, than a Jane Goodall."

"Of course, there are plenty of aliens we've met who are biologically different from earth humans, from the Jaffa, who are essentially human save for some genetic tinkering, to the Unas or Goa'uld symbiote, who are far less humanoid. Generally speaking, though, I could just plonk fifty ethnographic anthropologists on fifty different worlds for a year and set them loose to explore and document. We could spend the next twenty years going through their research and finding the ways that — culturally speaking — their evolution diverged and converged from their ancestors on Earth. And again, that's just the biologically human alien cultures!"

"Wow," Tony said again. "Sometimes the scope of the Program just… hits you, doesn't it?"

Daniel looked embarrassed, and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "I did promise that I tend to babble about my field," he said.

"No, I don't mind," Tony said, still feeling extremely small, when faced with the prospect of so many alien worlds. "Although, now you've got part of me wishing that I could give up my NCIS duties and just spend all of my time letting my inner anthropologist out to play. I told you that I studied world music as well for my bachelor's… never mind finding out how many of those planets have sports, I also want to know how many have music, and if their instruments would be recognizable… damn."

"Yeah, when the program is finally declassified…" Daniel shook his head. "Everyone talks about the medical doctors and hard scientists, but the soft sciences are going to literally swarm all over us. Those of us who are already with the program have written a few papers in our spare time, but they can't be published until declassification. It'll probably only take a year or two after that for the floodgates to open — not just for those who go on the frontline and immerse themselves in an alien culture, but then the second wave who go through their papers and start making comparisons, generalizations, and the kind of cross-cultural deep dives that you did with sports or music. We could probably build a library just to house the papers and books that would come from the Stargate program, five years after it goes public."

"You're not making a strong case for me to keep my job instead of jumping ship for your department, you know," Tony said with a teasing smile.

Daniel smiled broadly back. "You know I'd support you if you did, but I suspect that you'd miss being a cop-slash-agent."

Tony sighed and let his head drop back on the couch. "Some days, yeah," he admitted. "I think I was getting a little burnt out at work, and needed a bit of a change. The SGC is definitely different, and it might rekindle my love for the investigation, but…"

"Well you managed to complete your doctorate while also working as a cop, didn't you?" Daniel prodded. "Who says you couldn't be an NCIS Agent by day, secret anthropologist mastermind by night?"

Tony chuckled. "It might work. In some ways, though, it was easier being a cop than an agent — though that might just be the circumstances…"

"How so?" Daniel asked. "I know you were at several different departments…"

"Yeah," Tony sighed. "Like I said, I started in Peoria, and they put me on Vice initially. That was fine, and I enjoyed the rush of going undercover. Plus I was helping people, which was what I wanted to do. I wasn't really seeing anyone, so I'd work an eight hour shift, spend four or five hours on school work, take a few hours off for movies, cooking, playing pickup games down at the Y… whatever. It was really… uncomplicated is probably the best word. My studies were self-paced, and if I was feeling a little restless, I'd go for a jog or go play a little ball. I did a lot of brainstorming and coalescing on the court, you know?"

"I always found that keeping my hands busy was a good way to let my mind process," Daniel agreed.

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "I do it with cooking and music, too. So anyway, things were basically idyllic, other than the whole crime happening and actually keeping me employed. Then right around my eighteen month mark, the Captain retired, and we got this new guy. He was a transfer from one of the bigger cities, and he acted like we were all yokel bumpkins. Like Peoria was only half a step up from Mayberry."

"He micromanaged the hell out of the homicides and other big name crimes, but basically ignored petty crime and white collar and the like because 'there was no time.' For a few months now, at that point, I'd been splitting shifts between Vice and Special Victims, because I'd been there long enough that I wasn't an unknown face anymore, you know? So time to switch departments and let some other rook come in and play in the Vice kiddie pool."

"Makes sense," Daniel agreed.

"Well Markham, the new Captain, he looked down on the SVU: he was one of those good old boys who thought that a woman must be asking for it, and that men couldn't be abused. He was bare minimum decent about the crimes with kids, but the rest… He also had a thing about the guys who worked Vice as rent boys instead of johns — he was a homophobe — and he made a few comments about us liking it… that kind of thing. He was a total piece of work, so I got the hell out of there."

"I don't blame you at all," Daniel said with a frown.

"Well, Philly was glad to have me. They were really impressed by my undercover work, and they were looking for a new face to put under with Organized Crime. That was a totally different experience — I wasn't working as a beat cop at all, and though I was promoted to Detective pretty early on, I wasn't actually solving crimes. I spent most of my time undercover, and my hobbies weren't my alias's hobbies, for the most part."

"The one thing I could do was research for my thesis, and write it as long as my computer couldn't be compromised. I wrote it back and forth in emails to myself, making sure to log out and wipe my history when I was done for the day. A guy writing emails isn't suspicious, and my excuse for hanging out in the library all the time was that I had a kid brother who was a genius, and I was trying to keep up with him. I still couldn't do as much as before, and I couldn't take any classes, but it was nice to have something to do that was tied to the real me."

"One of the hard things about going undercover long term is that you start to lose yourself within your persona. You can't hang out with your fellow cops, you can't contact your family, you can't be your own personality. Researching for my thesis was something that I could do, that was me; it was like a talisman to lead me back to myself when I was holed up in my cover's dinky apartment."

"It sounds like your thesis was a profound part of you," Daniel said quietly.

After a moment, Tony agreed, "Yeah, it was." He took a long sip of his drink before continuing. "Anyway, almost two years later, the op is done, the bad guys are in jail, it's all over but the trials, and I've got a price on my head. Fortunately, the Don really liked me, so the price is only valid if I'm in Philly on my own free will — no kidnapping me and dumping me there. That's a long story for later, but the bottom line was that it was time to move on."

"Okay, I'm really intrigued, but I'll restrain myself," Daniel teased.

"Then there was Baltimore. I was a Detective, working Homicide — it was the epitome of being a cop. I was taking my classes on the side again, and doing the final compiling and tweaks on my thesis. About eighteen months later I finished my doctorate and was officially Dr. DiNozzo."

"I remember that," Daniel joked, tapping his wrist.

Tony flushed. "Yeah, well. I wasn't doing it for you anymore; I was doing it for me. Jen got that through to me. But at the same time, the first time I wrote it, I got this little piece of paper and wrote Dr. and Dr. Jackson-DiNozzo — you know the way girls do when they're dreaming of marrying some boy they've got a crush on? I only did it the once, though! And I'll never admit that again without massive amounts of alcohol or painkillers!"

"Aw," Daniel shifted over to give him a gentle kiss. "I think it's sweet. And I was excited when I saw it. A doctorate is hard work, and I was impressed that you got yours. I think it happened when I was offworld, because I remember walking through the 'gate, and as the tingles of gate travel faded, there was this different warm tingle on my arm. I couldn't wait to get through my medical check in to look at my wrist and see what had happened to you. I intended to look you up, but I wasn't sure if you'd publish, and then work picked up, and before I knew it you had become an Agent, so I assumed that your doctorate was in something like criminal justice and done for your career; not the kind of thing where you'd be publishing books or papers, at any rate, so it didn't seem like a priority to go looking for them anymore."

"Jen talked me into publishing. I was tempted to use a pen name, but I wanted it to match my signature. Still, DiNozzo's a pretty uncommon name, and I was still working as a cop, so I was torn. I refused to have my picture on the jacket, though, because I still did undercover work and I couldn't risk it." Tony shrugged. "Anyway, I finished it, and was kind of looking for something to do with my free time. Then I ended up on a joint case with NCIS and discovered that my partner was dirty. Gibbs offered me a spot at NCIS, and I couldn't stick around in Baltimore after learning about my partner, so I took him up on it."

"I didn't plan it that way, but I ended up basically doing two years at each precinct. I had four with NCIS, but I know that everyone kind of expected me to take off after two like I was the damn Runaway Bride. Like it was a pattern instead of a coincidence of wildly different circumstances. But I made it to four, and just as everything was in upheaval, there came Director Morrow."

"He'd transferred to Homeland and got read into the Stargate program, and immediately saw a need for trained investigators. He claimed I was already on his short list before he saw your wrist in your file, but…" Tony shrugged.

"I'm sure you were," Daniel assured him. "And I know for a fact that when he persuaded Jack to hire you, he didn't mention our status at all. He made a compelling argument for our needs and then convinced Jack and General Hammond that you were the best candidate to lead the unit. In fact, I know that he actually submitted your qualifications anonymously, because he thought Jack might have seen my wrist — which he had — and he didn't want that to influence them. They made the ultimate decision to hire you, and they didn't know that you were my soulmate at the time at all."

Tony digested that new information for a moment before he could work out a reply. He knew what Director Morrow had said, but deep down he still hadn't fully believed him. Finding out that O'Neill and Hammond had made the final call, and had done it blind… that said a lot about his place in the program. If he wasn't just there because of his connection to Daniel, but on the strength of his own merits, then they weren't just waiting for him to fail so they could replace him with someone better. It meant that this job was his to keep, not his to lose.

"I'm not used to my bosses having so much faith in me," Tony finally admitted quietly. "I know Gibbs fought for me, but that was at least half because I was a smartass who didn't quake with fear before him like most probies he'd dealt with. And once Morrow figured out that I kept Gibbs from killing the locals, he was content to just leave me be as long as Gibbs was happy — well, happy is too strong a word. As long as Gibbs wasn't killing me, Morrow was content to leave me where I was."

"So being headhunted is a new experience for you," Daniel teased.

"Very new," Tony sipped his drink. "I kinda like it," he decided.

"So what about you?" Tony asked. "Have you been published? I didn't find anything, but I now know I wasn't looking in the right fields back then. I figured you'd still pop up in by name at least." his curiosity was piqued; how could someone have three different doctorates and not be widely published?

"Uh, it turns out that the kind of work that brings you to the attention of the Stargate Program is the kind of work that gets you laughed out of academia and has your publisher only doing half-hearted runs," Daniel said a little bitterly.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Tony said guiltily.

"Don't worry about it," Daniel assured him. "I've been proven right, even if no one will know it until we declassify the Program. At the beginning of the Program, I wrote several follow up papers, showing how I was correct, that I'll be able to put out there once the world knows. And I do love what I'm doing now. I never would have gotten to explore other planets if I hadn't come up with some crackpot theories about alien spaceships landing on the pyramids."

"Seriously?" Tony bit back a laugh.

"Well they did!" Daniel protested, though he was still smiling. "You can't be so skeptical when we've got proof!"

"I'm sorry," Tony apologized, though he couldn't quite manage to school his expression. "Do you have copies that I could read, at least?" he offered an olive branch.

Daniel looked surprised, but it quickly gave way to a wide smile. "Sure. Though I warn you, you won't be able to read most of the last one."

"The linguistics one?" Tony recalled, quickly making the connection. "What language is it in?"

"Egyptian."

"Well if Space-Egyptian... wha'dya call it again?" Tony snapped his fingers.

"Goa'uld."

"Right. Well if Goa'uld is as commonly spoken in our galaxy as you say, I might need to learn it anyway," Tony decided.

Daniel was staring at him in surprise again.

"What?" Tony tried not to sound defensive.

"You'd really learn a whole new language just to read my thesis?"

"Well, I mean, I'd try. I don't know if I'd be any good at it… I might just have to make you translate it, but… yeah?"

Without warning, Daniel surged forward and kissed him.

They did very little talking the rest of the evening, but Tony wasn't complaining. And they did eventually finish their takeout, while watching the Dreamworks Road to El Dorado movie. And if Tony chose it because they'd both seen it before, and didn't need to worry about following the plot if they got distracted again… well, he figured that was just good planning.

Tom Morrow sighed tiredly and shut down his computer for the night. It was yet another late night at the office, and he'd told Leslie not to wait up for him. With his secure work computer still the only place that he could access SGC's files, he'd been seeing more of his office than his house the last few weeks.

Most of his hours during the work day had been spent trying to get the fledgling SGSI off the ground, so continuing to catch up on a decade's worth of SGC files was relegated to his evening hours, after everyone else he needed to coordinate with had gone home for the night.

After the first rush of hires, he'd been filling in the remaining holes more slowly, getting recommendations from around the Alphabet now that he'd cherry picked from his own and Tony's recommendations. The people they didn't personally know also took longer to investigate and run background checks on, though Penelope Morgan was a godsend in that respect.

The Air Force and JAG were doing their parts, and Tom had spent a good chunk of his day today on the phone with A.J. and his Air Force counterpart getting all of their legal ducks in a row. The addition of Mrs. Bromstead working on patents, as well as an offhand comment from Tony about writing treaties had made them rethink their entire strategy. It wasn't just prosecutors and defense lawyers that would be needed, but a whole array of the legal spectrum. Then there was Harm and Mac's idea for a planetary UCMJ, and while that group didn't need to be stationed at Stargate Command, they would be falling under Tom's purview here in Washington.

With Paul Davis at Tony's disposal in Colorado, Homeworld's other two administrative officers in charge of NDAs and the like were going to be kept hopping by Tom and the JAGs.

Tom himself had meetings all day tomorrow, with prospective hires from the NSA, DoD, and IRS. And on Friday he'd be heading to New York to scout out a few prospective hires there. It wouldn't leave him much time to catch up on the SGC files — part of why he'd stayed late tonight — but he'd do his best. With luck, by the weekend, Tom would have made enough progress on both the hiring and the files to actually take a day off and relax with Leslie!

Thursday saw Tony waiting outside for Captain Farmer from Peterson, as well as most of his remaining JAG contingent. To his luck, since they were coming on a Transpo to Peterson, Farmer had actually collected his lawyers from there first. He was quickly introduced to Commanders Kate Pike and Sturgis Turner, and another married pair of soul mates, Marine Sergeant Jamie Harper and Yeoman Third Class Lia Kelley. Getting the five of them through all the steps of intake and to their own offices took less time than Wednesday, much to his relief, and Tony was able to get to his office to check his email well before lunch.

At 1100, he went to his War Room for two conference calls, and found Jace waiting for him. It took only a few moments to connect, and then Tony was looking at Stan Burley and Sam Hanna on the screen. Given the drab gray background, if they hadn't been wearing warm, fur-lined coats, Tony wouldn't have known they were in Antarctica, as opposed to just down the hall.

"Gentlemen! What's the word down under?" Tony greeted them.

"Hey Tony!" Stan replied.

"The word is freezing," Sam griped.

Tony grinned. "Better you than me. So, how's our setup?"

"You were right about McMurdo's OSI presence. When we introduced ourselves to Major Carl Montgomery, his response was basically, 'now what're those freaks up to? Like anyone'd believe the navy had boats in the middle of an ice sheet.' I don't think the cover story's fooling him."

"So we might as well read him in, or replace him with someone read it," Tony concluded.

"That's my take," Stan agreed.

"He's a one man crew, but when I asked, it didn't sound like he saw a lot of action down here," Sam added. "Depending on the size of the outpost, which the records say is pretty small, it could easily be combined as a one or two man post."

"Any word on the outpost?" Tony asked.

Stan shook his head. "We've got a flight out there in a few hours. We'll do an inspection and be back tomorrow with our preliminary recommendation."

"Great," Tony nodded. "Now I have some good news for you; the Daedalus has almost finished testing their beaming tech, and if nothing goes wrong I'm told it'll be fully operational in two weeks. If you're wrapped up by then, we can beam you aboard instead of having you catch a transport back."

"Man, that is too weird," Stan grinned.

"The Daedalus is looking at taking off in less than two weeks. If you two think you can get our Afloat specs off the ground in that time, we can send someone on it. If not, which will probably be the case, you'll use the Prometheus in milk runs around the Galaxy to get the feel for things, and then we'll assign someone to the Daedalus when/if it comes back. Since you'll be beaming aboard directly, you'll be able to get a good feel for it before it leaves, at least."

"Yeah, will do," Sam agreed.

"Penelope Morgan set us up with our emails before we left last night, so we're available by those as long as we've got internet access. She gave us a sat phone for emergencies — did you get that number?" Stan asked.

"She emailed me," Tony assured him.

"One minute," Jace warned.

"Time's almost up, gentlemen," Tony said. "Don't get lost and get mauled by a penguin!"

"It's not the penguins that'll kill you: it's the elephant seals," Sam snorted.

"Well you're a SEAL too, you should speak their language," Tony teased.

Sam glared, but any response he planned to give was cut off by the screen going dark. A moment later the SGC screensaver popped up.

"Perfect timing, Jace," Tony laughed.

"I do try," he joked back.

Tony had just enough time to grab a gulp of water for his dry throat. Then, a moment later, the screen cleared, and Tony saw Penelope and Derek in front of another bland gray wall. "Hello sunshine," Penny purred.

"Hello, Font of Wisdom," Tony greeted her. "And you too, Chocolate Thunder. Or is it Hot Mocha today?"

"This Mocha is always hot," Derek smirked.

Tony had already warned Jace that he'd need the room cleared, so once he confirmed everything was working and all three could hear and see each other, he nodded at Tony and left.

"So, down to business?" Tony asked.

"If you insist, Sugar," Penny agreed with a sigh, then snapped into her game face. "I've cleared you and us, obviously."

"Obviously," Derek muttered.

"But I've also cleared Abby, Admiral Chegwidden, Captain Rabb, Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, Cynthia Summer, both Bromstead ladies, Paula Cassidy, Dr. Hodgins, Kendrick, Matthews and Director Morrow, just to be thorough."

"That's what I like to hear," Tony said, pleased, as he checked those names off his list.

"I thought it would also be a good idea to clear the top tiers already in the Stargate Program, so while my babies were tracking down information on the rest of your new team, I did a little digging. Generals Hammond and O'Neill are clean, and so are Colonel Carter and your Daniel. Who, again, may I say, woo!" she fanned herself theatrically.

"Glad he meets with your approval," Tony laughed.

"Now, one thing that I did run into is that — and I don't think the people there know this yet — but General O'Neill is going to be rotated into Washington soon. They've just started the preliminary vetting on his replacement, — this General Hank Landry — so I decided I would look into him while I was at it."

"Problems?" Tony asked.

"Kind of. This guy does not like Marines, and for someone who is going to be on a base that is one third Marine, and working closely with investigators headed by NCIS, that's not a great look. He's also got some skeletons in his past that I'm still tracking down, but one big thing is that his estranged daughter was just brought in to take over as the Chief Medical Officer."

Tony thought back to the medical hierarchy. The current CMO was Brightman, but she was in the process of handing over to… "Doctor Lam?"

"That's the one. Hasn't talked to her in years. From things she's said in the past, I don't think she would have taken the post if she knew that her dad would be her new boss. She's not gonna be a happy camper if he gets the job."

"Damn. I like her." Tony mused. "You said skeletons?"

"He's friends with people who might be Trust," Penelope explained. "I've got nothing that says he's involved now, but he's a strong candidate for turning later or passing information unwittingly."

"What are his feelings on working with civilians?"

"He seems to think of most of us as nuisances," Penny said, frowning.

"Well I'd say those are some pretty big red flags," Tony decided. "Pass your findings on to Morrow and Hammond. They'll decide if they still want to look at him or not. Anything else for me?"

"I'm almost done checking into Gerald Jackson, Perez, Michaelson, Yates, Dornegut, Donovan, that Officer Shanahan, Burley and Hanna. I ran into some unusual blocks on Dr. Perkins' file that I'm still working on. JAG got me their list of names yesterday, so I'll get on them as soon as I free up a little processing power. And I'm getting new names in from Director Morrow pretty regularly. You're getting two evidence technicians from our old building at the Bureau, so it'll take me no time at all to clear them because I'll have a head start."

"Excellent. Anything else on Project Dolus?" Tony asked.

"We'll definitely need some help," Derek chimed in.

"Anyone on your mind?"

"From a profiling standpoint, I want Megan Reeves, an FBI agent in California, and Dr. Samantha Ryan, with DoD PsyOps." Derek said. "I was explicitly told by Hotch that I wasn't allowed to gut my old team, and those are the next best for what we're doing."

"Done," Tony agreed. "Have Penny clear them and send her findings to Morrow. He'll make the approach. Anyone else?"

"I'm still working out which hackers I might want, but we'll need people to analyze what we're finding, and to follow the patterns of these Trust cells," Penny said. "There's a pair actually. I was thinking about Dr. Amita Eppes, who's a combinatorics expert—"

"A what now?" Tony asked.

"Math and patterns," Penny simplified. "Anyway, she also works with computers, so she's a two-for-one. And when I was looking into her, I found her husband, Dr. Charlie Eppes, has worked with the FBI as a mathematician. Among other things, he's tracked groupings and patterns of criminal behavior. Together they might be able to help us narrow down our search populations."

"They've already got FBI clearance?" Tony clarified.

"And NSA, and Homeland," Penny added.

"Great. Send them to Morrow too. I'll assume now that any hackers you decide to recommend will fit the bill, so send those directly to him; you don't need to clear them with me first."

"Will do," Derek agreed.

"Anything else you need from me?" Tony asked.

"Uh, I have one question," Penny said.

"Yeah?"

"Well, it looks like this is gonna take a lot of my time — and I mean a lot — because first I've got to clear everyone you're bringing in, and then everyone already involved, and that's a few hundred people, and then there's all the top Brass and people like the Joint Chiefs. Not to mention everyone involved in the Atlantis expedition and all the international officials who backed it. I mean they've already uncovered evidence that this goes as high as the Vice President and then there's this international group, not to mention people who have gone to other postings and had a successor join, so they're just off doing their own thing now and—"

"Breathe, darlin," Tony interrupted. "I get the picture; I'm asking too much. Other than getting you more hackers and analysts…"

"It's Area 51, Tony," she said quickly. "I'm supposed to be working there with Zane, but at this rate I'll never have any time and he'll be all on his own."

"Okay, so you want me to put a third person at Area 51, since for all intents and purposes you won't be there. Do you really think there's enough need for two people? I was under the impression that there wasn't, which is why I initially put you there."

"Oh, from his initial, cursory, poking around, there will be more than enough for two people," Penny assured him.

Tony nodded. "Alright, let's do it then. Share your concerns with Morrow, and if you've got any recommendations for a replacement, pass those on too."

"You got it!" Penny looked much happier now that he'd agreed.

"Anything else?" Tony asked.

Both Morgans shook their heads.

"Good. How'd check in go yesterday?"

"Everyone checked in who was due:" Penny started scrolling through the list and Tony quickly marked the names she read. "Cassidy, Dorneget, Burly, and Hanna from NCIS, us from the FBI, and Hodgins and Donovan, independent. Today we got two of our lawyers: Commander Aldridge and Lieutenant Mayfield, and the Air Force sent a paralegal, Master Sergeant Richards, and an HR person, Lieutenant Borislov. Our other lawyer is on her way from Italy, and the pair in support are coming from Pearl Harbor, so they aren't due until Monday. Our office staff, interview tech, and forensic accountant are all due Monday as well."

"Same here," Tony agreed. "Any word on the investigative team members?"

"OSI is sending three people this weekend: two members of the Air Force and a civilian. Director Morrow mentioned recruiting someone from the NSA to fill one of those positions, too, but they haven't been read in yet." Penny said.

"Well keep me posted," Tony said.

"We will!" Derek assured him.

"I wish you could be here with us, Sugar!" Penny added.

"I wish I could too," Tony smiled. "Or rather, I wish you could be here with me."

"I'll bet," Penny smirked.

"And on that note, we've got nothing else official to report," Derek said. "So we'll sign off."

"Yeah, I'll catch you again on Monday?" Tony checked.

"Yup. 2 PM," Penny confirmed. "Goodbye my tall drink of water!"

"Good bye my technological goddess," Tony replied. "And you too, Hot Chocolate."

Derek snorted and shook his head. "Bye Tone."

The screen went black again, and again the SGC screensaver reappeared shortly. Tony quickly popped next door and summoned Jace, then watched idly as he shut everything down. When that was done, both men were free for the day. Tony saw Jace to the elevator, then got off again on 16 while the other man headed all the way out.

The number of new emails had decreased substantially, Tony was pleased to note. Even more pleasing was the fact that, since he was taking his laptop home with him, he'd be able to connect to Daniel's internet and check them from home for the next three days. Tony shot off a quick message to Daniel that he was heading out — they had driven separate cars today — and then shut down his system.

Once he was through security — which took an extra twenty minutes, with the laptop — and back up topside, Tony grabbed his cell phone from his car and called up Abby. With luck, she wouldn't have eaten yet, and he'd take her somewhere for a late lunch. This afternoon was free, but tomorrow he'd accompany her, Gerald, and a few of the others looking for single accommodations on their realty tour. He probably wouldn't need that for himself, but he'd promised to help Abby pick, and for those who didn't know that Daniel was his mate, it was better to maintain appearances for a little longer. Though, even if he wasn't potentially sharing with Daniel, he'd still want a bigger place that could hold his piano, which excluded a one bedroom apartment.

Other than confirming that Tony was still good to sleep on Daniel's couch, they hadn't gotten around to discussing things like moving in together last night, and Tony was torn about how fast was too fast to bring that kind of thing up. They'd already jumped to couch-surfing faster than he'd expected, and if Daniel had a bigger place it might have been easier to just transition from a guest room to a roommates situation, but as it was, the size of his house made that awkward.

Tony was hopeful that Daniel might be inclined to go house hunting with him over the weekend, just for moral support, and that he could casually broach the topic that way. If only they covered this kind of situation in the movies!

Chapter Text

Tony flopped down on the couch with a groan.

"Long day?" Daniel asked with false sympathy.

"We saw over a dozen different apartments!" Tony moaned. "Not a single one of them was on the first floor, and only two had elevators!"

"Awww. I thought a big strong federal agent would be used to all that exercise. You been sitting behind a desk too much this week?"

Tony harrumphed. "I'll have you know that I've done more walking around this base this week than I would at NCIS HQ in a month!" Tony complained. "And I am perfectly capable of busting down a door and chasing a suspect. But as a kinesiology major I can tell you that you use a completely different muscle set to go up and down flights of stairs!"

"Well you're the expert; I trust you," Daniel joked.

"I should drag you with me tomorrow, see how your fancy 'away team' training holds up," Tony grumbled. With any luck, Daniel would agree to the challenge without realizing it was a set up.

"Well I probably climb stairs more frequently than you, though I do a lot less busting down doors, I'd imagine," Daniel replied. After a moment he cautiously asked, "What kind of places are you looking at tomorrow?"

"Two bedroom apartments and smaller houses," Tony explained. "One bedroom units were today, and I was mostly there for moral support for Abby and Gerald. With my piano, I need more room than any of the places we saw today had. Tomorrow's picks will probably be more in my range, though if they're all as oddly laid out as yours, I might need to switch over and tag along with the family groups looking at bigger houses on Sunday!"

"Well I don't know why I expected otherwise, but you're certainly attacking all this with a military precision," Daniel said.

"Comes from working with so many of them," Tony shrugged. "That and we've got a bunch of natural organizers in the group — the kind of people who become records clerks or administrative assistants. You hand them a problem and turn them loose, and this is the kind of result you get. I don't even know which of them made the arrangements; I just sign where I'm told and show up when I'm told."

"Yes, I'd noticed," Daniel said quietly, then glanced down at his wrist.

Tony followed his gaze, and realized that his wrist was bare. "Oh, right." He had officially signed in and out of the Mountain today with his new title. He shuffled a little closer and peered at the new mark. There, on Daniel's wrist, right above the links that had appeared after their first kiss was 'SAC Dr. Tony DiNozzo, SGSI' in his neatest script. "It's almost like being in the military," he noted absently.

"How so?" Daniel asked, clearly confused.

"Oh, I was just thinking…" Tony quickly unsnapped his cuff and showed his own wrist. "Civilians probably have three or four signatures in their lifetime," he explained. "Maybe more if you're some kind of black widow, or the child of one. If a woman got married as often as my dad did, her mate would have names halfway to their elbow. But usually, civilians have more like three or four, is my point."

"I'd never really thought about it much, until we were comparing the other night, though I was pretty distracted then. But later it hit me that I've had a lot of different signatures over the years. And I realized just now that someone in the military would have the same thing, every time they went up a rank."

"If you looked at someone like Jack, for example, because he's a General in the Air Force, but he started as a Second Lieutenant, so just with his ranks, that's seven different signatures. There's nine ranks for Enlisted as well. Then you think about married names, adding PhDs or medical doctors. Plus, I don't know how it is with Air Force pilots, but the naval ones all get nick-names that they add to their helmets and planes. We're talking about a dozen signatures, easy, over their lifetime. I mean, makes you wonder how they all fit!" Tony looked at Daniel's wrist again. Then names didn't look that much smaller than the ones on his own arm, but somehow they still managed to squeeze in without looking too tight.

"I'm sure someone's written a paper about it," Daniel said. "You can't have been the first to ask — there's probably a study… o— or studies been done. May— maybe even the military. You're right that this kind of thing, while not unique to the military, is certainly more… more pronounced in the military and other hierarchical organizations. If you hadn't become a federal agent, for example, but had stayed with the police, you still would have been moving up the ranks, F— first as a Corporal, then a Sergeant, a— a Lieutenant, Captain… and as a federal agent, you've got another hierarchy in play with your different grades of agent. You specifically are in the rather unique position of going through both the police and agency hierarchies, while being peripherally attached to the military ones."

"That's a fair point," Tony agreed. "It's got to be even more pronounced for those who are both, like OSI tends to make their agents out of Air Force officers, so you've got military ranks compounded by federal agent titles," he realized. "Huh. in our circles that basically makes you an anomaly, with only three."

"Are you saying I need to invent more signatures for myself?" Daniel asked, a hint of a teasing smile on his lips.

"No," Tony replied honestly. "Just making an… an anthropological observation.

Daniel smirked. "Hmmm. I guess that's what I get for dating a sociocultural anthropologist, huh."

"I guess it is," Tony smirked back, doing his best to hide his reaction to the fluttery feeling that erupted in his stomach when Daniel had said they were dating.

The doorbell ringing broke the moment, and Daniel quickly went to the door to collect their dinner. He returned shortly and distributed it, and Tony was quiet for a few moments as he dug into his Pad Thai. Once his hunger had abated slightly, he picked the conversation back up. "So I noticed you haven't been going through the 'gate with your team. Are you guys off of rotation or something?"

"Oh! Uh, kind of." Daniel looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment.

"Oh?" Tony prodded.

"Yes! Uh, with Jack being promoted soon, and as he's the leader of SG-1, we're off rotation temporarily. As it happens, Teal'c is doing some important work with the free Jaffa; they're in the middle of creating a new system of government this month. And Sam was drafted to help with the construction on the Daedalus in Nevada, so it was all rather, uh, fortuitously timed."

"Oh." That all made sense, but the sudden shift in Daniel's tone and body language told Tony that there was more to it than that. He really should turn off his investigator brain, but he couldn't squelch out his curiosity. "So what are you getting up to while the team is down?"

"Uuuhhhh… I am… well, I have been… that is, we've been preparing for the Daedalus to make its maiden voyage to Atlantis." Daniel explained, his nervousness ratcheting up.

"And you're one of the ones who speaks Ancient, I remember," Tony said cautiously. "I'm guessing they need a lot of translating, living in an Ancient city and all."

"Yes, well, they do! But also they have people sent with them who can do that; we made sure to send several linguists who could translate Ancient, and a few of their scientists are fluent as well." Daniel said quickly.

Tony had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach that he knew what Daniel was carefully not saying. He tried to quell the panic that suddenly rose within him. Even if he was guessing correctly, that didn't mean that Daniel was rejecting him. "I haven't heard much about Atlantis — I've been focusing closer to home — but I imagine it's probably a very interesting place," he said leadingly.

"It is," Daniel agreed. "I— I wanted to go on the expedition originally, but Jack wouldn't let me. Th— the idea was that if there was a problem, then the best person to translate the solution would be me, and I would need to be here to do it, instead of being lost out there waiting for someone else to bring us back."

"And now that you've got a reliable ship able to take you there in a month, it sounds like problem solving from afar isn't as crucial of an issue," Tony said carefully.

"Yeah," Daniel sighed heavily. "I was planning to leave on the Daedalus. I— uh, I told Jack a few months ago that as— as soon as we had the capability, and we knew that they had survived, that, uh, that I was going."

"I understand the plan is for the Daedalus to make a relatively short stop over before coming back, depending on what they find," Tony said. "We weren't sure we'd be ready to assign them an Agent Afloat before they left, and I was told they would be back in about two months; we'd planned to be ready by then."

"Yeah, that's, uh, that's the plan for the cruiser," Daniel agreed. "Command will probably order most of the Senior staff back with it to report in, and then they'll be making a return trip fairly quickly."

"So if someone went out on the first trip, they could stay for a few months and then catch a ride back, say on the return trip from bringing the senior staff back to the City," Tony said. That was a really reasonable time frame, he told himself sternly.

"Uh, yes! Yes they would… be. able. to. In theory." Daniel mumbled the last.

Tony decided to stop dancing around it and take the bull by the horns. "So were you planning on a short trip like that, or something longer?"

Daniel sighed again. "Originally, I'd planned to go for at least a year, maybe longer," he admitted. "And then Jack blindsided me— not that I'm not—"

"I understand," Tony said quickly, holding up his hand to forestall the apology. "So a year? I'll come out and say that's not my favorite idea ever, but we've lived this long without each other; I'm sure we'd survive another year."

To his surprise, Daniel didn't reply right away, but since Tony was staring down at his wrist again, he wasn't sure what was going through the archeologist's mind. Finally, Daniel said, "Over the past few days, I've been giving it a lot of thought. I— I mean, this is… Atlantis is something I've been working towards for years. The idea of giving up on it without even going there kills me. But I've n— this — us — has been years in the making too. And I don't want to walk away from you right now, even for a year. But at the same time it's killing me, because this is the lost city of Atlantis we're talking about!"

"Oh yeah, pure— purely from a cultural and mythological standpoint, it's an archeologist's dream," Tony agreed, able to admit that much. "I'm sure it's the same — from the point of view of someone who studies the Ancients — as finding El Dorado would be for someone who studies the Musica." Most people thought El Dorado was an Aztec or Mayan thing, but Tony had been struck by the word's similarity to 'music' and never forgotten the proper name.

Daniel sighed again. "You know, somehow the fact that you actually understand how I'm feeling is making this harder. And is it weird that you knowing who the Musica are is a turn on?" he added quickly.

Tony snorted at his aside, and then shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not up to playing the bad guy on this. I mean, I can do a hell of a 'bad cop' in Interrogation, but not so much with my soul mate."

"I know you're talking about sending someone there from NCIS, but it—"

"It wouldn't be me," Tony agreed. "It's a step down, and I couldn't effectively lead the unit from there. I'd probably do an inspection tour at some point, though, or get called in as backup if something really crazy happens that the local team just can't handle. Which, you know, as much as I'd like to see it, I'm not exactly hoping for things to go that badly."

"It does feel a bit like hoping to lose," Daniel's nose scrunched up at the thought.

"So, you've spent the last few days thinking," Tony brought them back on task. "Have you come up with anything?"

"I'm not sure," Daniel muttered. "I'm afraid that if I go I won't want to come back."

A lump immediately formed in Tony's throat.

"Which means I shouldn't go at all," Daniel continued. "But it's so hard to give up on it."

"I would never want to ask that of you," Tony managed to say. "But I think it's a little too soon to ask Director Morrow if I can turn over the reins of SGSI and apply to become one of the linguists on Atlantis."

Tony glanced up through his bangs and found Daniel staring at him, wide-eyed.

"You did say you would hire me for your department?" he said hesitantly.

"Y— you would do that?" Daniel asked.

Tony shrugged. "I love what I do, and despite all of the stress of creating this new unit, I'm enjoying myself. But I also love anthropology, which is why I got my degree in it. And I've always been pretty handy with languages, so working with them wouldn't be a hardship. Like you said the other night, working at the SGC I might become a Special Agent by day, Anthropologist by night, anyways. For all we know, we might find some place more important than Atlantis, and they might need us to create a new unit of Agent Anthropologists there…" he shrugged again.

"I keep having this feeling that if I don't go now, I never will, or if I don't get there soon enough, they'll have discovered everything without me," Daniel admitted.

"At the risk of sounding like my least favorite headshrinker at NCIS, a 'feeling' like a strong gut feeling? Like almost a premonition? Or a feeling like your standard human anxiety and fear of missing out?" Tony asked.

Daniel gave him an odd look, so Tony tried to elaborate. "Well aliens are real, and I apparently have a gene that can open doors and fire weapons from miles away. The X-Men aren't exactly impossible, is what I'm saying. So are you feeling this because someone out there is sending you a message, or it's a holdover from you being a glowy ball of light, or whatever, or is this a normal human desire to be first — or at least not last?"

"O— okay, I get the distinction you're making," Daniel agreed. "And at the risk of overstating my own importance in the universe, I kiiiinda feel like it is the former."

"Okay, so then it sounds like you need to go to Atlantis, sooner rather than later," Tony concluded. "Which, yeah, in terms of our relationship, is not ideal. But if the universe is telling you this, I'd say you've gotta listen to the universe. I mean, you people have gotten messages from alternate timelines before and had glowy light people pop in and give you hints and things too. Who's to say that isn't what this is? I don't want to be the guy who puts the galaxy — two of 'em, even! — at risk because I didn't want to be in a long distance relationship."

Daniel exhaled deeply. "I'm not— you, uh… you're taking this so much better than Jack would. I'm used t— to having to fight much harder to make my point."

"Hey, I've been there plenty of times," Tony shrugged. "And yeah, maybe a year ago I'd have fought instead of agreeing with you. But two months ago I returned early from sick leave, against doctor's orders, and because I was goofing around with Kate, saw a bomb that no one else would have been in the position to see. If I hadn't come back that day, Kate and McGee would've died. Sure, she died later that week, because Ari was a class A freak with a hate hard on for Gibbs, but that could have been Abby or Ducky or one of the others the second time if I hadn't stopped the bomb first."

"I mean, I saw Kate walking around the office after she died, and I know Abby did too. She wasn't — she wasn't glowing — I know she wasn't one of— I'm not saying it wasn't probably a figment of our imaginations, but given the month I've had, and what I've learned is actually out there, I'm not saying she wasn't there. Or that something wasn't telling me I needed to come back that exact day. If aliens and time travel and alternate universes and basically angels are real, I'm not gonna rule out ghosts and premonitions just yet. And since you've been one of those glowy angel guys giving the messages before, I trust your gut on this one. No fight needed." Tony concluded.

"Wow. Okay. Well in that case, I guess…" Daniel glanced around the room. "I guess I'm going to Atlantis for… uh, awhile. Probably in the four to six month range to start? Our best guesstimate is that it'll take three or four weeks transit for the Daedalus, so one month out, a week or two to offload and onload, one month back, briefings for at least two weeks, a month back to Atlantis, offloading, a— and then a month back home. Slightly less if the trip only takes three weeks, but…"

"Two round trips with Liberty and briefings in between," Tony nodded. "Well, six months: that's on par with a standard short duration Agent Afloat stint. And military folk often get deployed for a year or two at a time, so it could be worse."

"Th— there is that," Daniel agreed. "And at some point, they'll have you go out for two weeks or so for your inspection tour, right?"

"Right!" Tony said. "If you were in Atlantis, and happened to come back to Earth for a visit after that, we'd have the whole month's commute together too. Probably the longest commute to get to work in the w— crap. Can't exactly say 'in the world' when talking about going between galaxies," Tony shrugged.

"N— no, you need a different phrase, for sure," Daniel said quietly. "But anyway, it's doable."

"It's very doable," Tony agreed.

There was a silent pause as they both stared at each other.

Finally Tony broke it. "Then why doesn't any of that make me feel better?"

"God I don't know!" Daniel flopped back into the couch. "I— I think I need to go, though, at least for a while."

"Okay, we're agreed," Tony declared. "We'll have a whirlwind romance until the Daedalus leaves. Then you'll be gone for let's say six months, during which time we'll be able to email? Maybe?"

"Possibly," Daniel agreed. "We can send data bursts back with the Daedalus, at the least, so every few weeks at the longest."

"Right, we can email, though maybe at a snail mail pace," Tony agreed. "And we'll see how my job and your calling go, and in six months we'll reevaluate where we're living. That's totally doable."

"It is," Daniel nodded. "And very mature of us."

"That's me, Mister Mature," Tony shoved away the pang in his chest when he automatically waited a beat for Kate to roll her eyes at his pronouncement. "Now for another totally mature question: what does that do for my housing hunt?"

"Oh!" Daniel glanced around his living room quickly, then focused back on Tony. "You're welcome to stay here, if— if you want, but I'm sure you don't want to be living out of boxes and duffle bags forever."

"It isn't ideal," Tony agreed. "I did a short stint afloat soon after I started at NCIS, so I certainly can live out of a footlocker, but I'm a man who likes my creature comforts too much." Though he wouldn't mind a chance to try out Daniel's piano while his was in storage.

"If you were going to q— quit your job and come work under me on Atlantis, how— how long would you need to wait?" Daniel asked hesitantly.

That was a good way of thinking about it, though, Tony realized. What was the bare minimum time frame he would need to give to the SGSI before turning them over, and not feeling like he'd abandoned his people? "Eighteen months at the minimum, I'd say," he decided. "Two years, more likely."

"So do you want to purchase a place that you might leave again in two years? Or just rent?" Daniel asked. "B— bearing in mind that SGC personnel tend to get stranded off world and travel in time and swap bodies and things like that on the regular, which makes timely rent payments a risky prospect."

"Oh, those all sound like stories that I need to hear more of," Tony teased. "But you're right; it would be nice to know that my friends wouldn't have to worry about paying my rent while I was MIA, or risk them selling my things out from under me. So I'd probably want to buy something, even if I only end up staying there for two years. Real Estate's almost always a solid investment either way. What were you planning to do with your place?"

Daniel shrugged. "I'm not particularly attached to it. I was planning to leave it as is, and give Jack instructions on what to do in the event of an emergency. I thought that if I decided to stay on Atlantis permanently I'd probably come back for a few months to pack up what I wanted and sell the rest, but I wasn't going to make that kind of decision before seeing what the city was like first.

"So, purely for convenience's sake…"

"If we found a place big enough for two on your tour tomorrow…" Daniel agreed.

"If nothing else, it would give you a readymade place to crash if you came back to visit between Daedelus runs," Tony pointed out.

"Alright, I guess you've talked me into going house hunting with you tomorrow," Daniel smirked.

"Muahahaha! My cunning plan has succeeded!" Tony joked, though he really didn't feel like laughing right now. Fortunately, he'd had plenty of practice in his years at NCIS with lifting everyone else's mood with a well timed joke or complaint, regardless of his own feelings. Daniel smiled back and relaxed slightly, so he counted it as a win.

"So, I picked the movie last night; your turn tonight?" Tony prodded as he picked up his takeout carton. In preparation for his move, and knowing that he wouldn't have as much space as in Washington DC, Tony had gotten several large disc binders and taken all of his movies out of their cases. The covers were folded up and tucked into the pockets, so he knew where everything went, and then he'd recycled the plastic cases. He'd done the same thing with his CDs, though he had thankfully spent most of his free time a few summers ago transferring all of his old cassette tapes into MP3s! Now he had two thick binders of music and eight of movies, replacing the full wall of bookshelves he'd crammed his media into before.

When he'd been deciding what to keep out of storage, Tony had only kept two of the movie binders out: one full of comfort movies and one full of foreign films. Daniel had been introduced to the binders the night before, when they'd picked out a movie from the former, and now Tony tugged them out of their stack beside Daniel's TV cabinet. Daniel selected the binder of foreign films — organized first by original language and then by genre — and flipped through until he found something interesting. Tony was pleased to find that — based on his muttering — Daniel was familiar with a decent number of his foreign movies, which boded well both for them being able to enjoy them together and also for their ability to share new favorites.

Tonight, he selected one in Italian and held it up to Tony for approval. "Mmm, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow: great choice. You know that's just one of the eleven movies that Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni starred in together?"

"I didn't, actually," Daniel said with a small smile.

Tony flushed. "Sorry. I'm a bit of a movie geek."

"I believe you mentioned that the other night," Daniel said as he put the movie into his DVD player. "So what other trivia do you have about this one?"

Incredibly happy that Daniel wasn't just tolerating his movie trivia, but actually asking for more, Tony snuggled back into the couch comfortably and let loose. "Well, rumors are that she paired with Mastoianni so often because he was one of the few men who wasn't scared off by her height. She was 5'9" even before you added in the heels and big hair."

"Hey, Sam's 5'9". She isn't that tall," Daniel protested mildly as he grabbed the remote and rejoined Tony on the couch, picking up his own abandoned takeout box on the way.

Tony chuckled. "That's because you and Jack are both over six foot. And I believe Teal'c is even taller. Just because your team was extraordinarily tall doesn't mean that Sam — or Sophia Loren — aren't on the tall end for women."

"Hmm. Good point."

"Let's see, what else," Tony mused. "Oh, Loren won a 'Best Actress' Oscar for her 1960 film Two Women, and it was the first Oscar awarded to a foreign film."

The opening music started, so Tony quieted. Two facts were enough for now: he'd save the rest of his trivia for later — maybe. Right now he was content to enjoy a good movie, and the warm feeling of Daniel's feet meeting his own in the middle of the couch. He wasn't going to press his luck by spouting off more trivia, no matter how accepting Daniel seemed to be of his quirk.

"Sir? This is Penelope Morgan."

"Ah yes, Mrs. Morgan. How can I help you?" Director Morrow asked easily, though she could read the subtext of him wondering why she had jumped over Tony and gone straight to him.

Penelope was nervous, but Derek's arm around her waist comforted her. Morrow had never given them the impression that he would be upset at what she was about to say; especially if Abby's joke about him being the one to play matchmaker for Tony and Daniel was to be believed.

"Well, sir, I didn't exactly mean to, but I've discovered something by accident. And then kind of on purpose," she admitted. "And it isn't that I can't trust Tony with this, but I think it's better if you hear it first."

"Alright," he said neutrally.

"Well, I'm doing background checks on everyone brought in for SGSI, as you know, and I set up my baby to do some basic name matching, looking for connections between the new people and anyone already in the… Program." She wasn't sure how secure his line was — though her own was being routed through her baby for security — so she decided to be vague. "And I didn't mean to, but the parameters were pretty wide, so when everyone's medical files were added in, I suddenly had new information, and I got a hit." Well she'd gotten one other one first, before all but the most basic data was in her system, but she'd already shared that with Tony and Daniel days ago. This was much bigger than her boys. This was a connection that Director Morrow hadn't already matched.

There was silence for a few long moments, to the point that Penelope finally asked, "Sir?"

"You're telling me you found another… pairing?" he asked, startled.

"Yes Sir. Two, actually. And that's when I made a few tweaks, and started looking on purpose. And I might have expanded to include our list of recommended and potential hires, because I figured if you were willing to use that knowledge to entice Tony to take the job, then we might use it on them too. And I found more."

"How many pairings did you find?" Director Morrow asked.

"From our initial lists? Six."

"Six people?"

"No Sir, six pairings," she clarified.

"Oh Lord," he muttered. After another short pause he asked, "Who among our people?"

"Paula Cassidy and Stan Burley, and then our potential hires Officer Shanahan, Dr Shawna Dawson, Captain Lopez, and George Kittering."

"All six of them have a match with someone already in the Program?" he clarified.

"Yes sir."

"Alright, send the names to me, please. I'll talk to George and Jack about this."

He didn't sound angry, so Penelope was feeling much more confident about her next question. "Sir, should I keep running this search? And expand it to other potential hires?"

There was another sigh, but finally Morrow replied. "At the risk of breaking confidentiality, you can proceed, but slowly. There's a fine line between helping people see past the highly classified shadows our Program is hiding in and playing God. If people weren't meant to meet, or don't want to…"

"I understand Sir. I normally wouldn't have pried, even after finding out about Daniel and Tony, but when it happened again and again… it felt like I was supposed to be finding these. Like maybe creating the SGSI was what fate was waiting for to match these people."

"I understand, Mrs. Morgan," he said tiredly. "And I don't disagree in principle. It certainly does feel a little less random with how many matches you've already found. But we need to tread very carefully here."

"Yes, Sir— oh!" Penelope stared at the pop up that had appeared in the corner of her screen. Derek made a shocked sound beside her and tightened his hold of her waist. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Uh, Major Davis had said he was sending me a list of people who are… er, at the very far away place I can't name, and he did, Sir, and my computer ran a basic scan the way it's supposed to and Sir I've got two more pairings."

Another deep sigh. "Who from our side?"

"NCIS agent Ned Dornegut and from the potential hires, FBI agent Diana Berrigan."

"Well I'd say that clinches it. Send me those names, and I'll speak to the Generals first thing in the morning. And in the meantime, Mrs. Morgan, not a word to anyone."

"No Sir," she agreed quickly, fingers already flying across the keys to format the names and send them to him in a secure email.

When the call ended, she slumped back against Derek. "Now what are the odds that would have happened," he mused.

"I have no idea," Penelope said reverently, petting her laptop's side. She'd seen some pretty incredible matches out of nothing, or perfectly timed search results in her years with the BAU, but the way these names had all lined up for her was something else.

"Though I'm sure Spencer could have rattled off some figures," Derek joked.

She giggled. "Yeah, probably." They had talked about it, both before taking the job and after, and she knew they would both miss the old BAU team. But Tony had made it sound like they were really needed here — both of them — and now that they'd taken the red pill, she couldn't disagree. And not just about these insane matches her computer kept making, but all the rest of it.

What were the odds that so many existing pairs, like her and Derek, would both have two different skill sets that the Program needed? What about Mrs. Bromstead's wife having another set of skills that they needed, or her sister being in Antarctica, like she'd found out? At their last check in this afternoon, Stan said that Millie was a wild character, but she'd definitely brightened up their trip.

Penelope knew that Derek didn't really believe in that kind of fate — though he didn't exactly not believe in it either; some of the breaks on cases they'd seen, or lucky shots… Despite the fact that some kind of magic or something wrote their names out on each other's wrists long before they'd ever met, he still wasn't as willing to believe in these kinds of little miracles and coincidences.

But Penelope? She believed. Just like she believed that her team would catch the bad guys and save the day, or that good would always outshine the dark. And she didn't for a second believe that her computer had found all of these matches by coincidence, or because she wasn't supposed to pass them on so that they could find each other, the same way that Tony and his Daniel had. If the Generals didn't want to follow up on this, then she'd just have to do something about it herself.

After what he'd experienced, she was quite certain that Tony would be first in line to help her.

Paula sighed and leaned back against the wall. Even with her pillow propped up behind her, it wasn't comfortable, but it was marginally better than the onboard rack she'd had while Afloat the U.S.S. Kennedy. At the moment, all of her people were using the on-base bunks that had been provided for them, though there were plans to go out this weekend and look for apartments.

She and Tony had exchanged several emails, and she knew that they were spending the weekend the same way. She understood why everything had fallen out the way it had, with people going to both sites at the same time, and with Sam Hanna and Stan Burley trying to race the clock on the Daedalus leaving. She really did, but it didn't stop her from feeling a bit like she'd been tossed to the sharks here.

She'd gone from being part of a team at Gitmo, to a solo gig on the Kennedy. Now, suddenly, she was in charge of a whole Resident Unit, including support staff, that was being built around her ears. She was fairly confident that she could lead a team once she had one, but all the rest of it… it was a little overwhelming.

Thankfully, Tony seemed to have realized that, because she'd been unexpectedly greeted by the familiar face of Major Davis this morning. Officially, none of them started until Monday, but since they were all staying on Base, it didn't take long to round people up.

Paul — as he'd told her to call him — had handed out boxes of business cards — including a stack of Tony's for her, in case she needed to send people over her head to him — and distributed cell phones to those who were getting them.

Then he'd checked in with each person individually, before spending several hours with Paula. They'd gone over the blueprints for her corner of the base — a converted hanger that served as her Evidence Garage, holding cells and brig above ground, and an entire secure bunker below that had been divided into offices, bullpens, labs and storage. From Paul's stories about the Cheyenne Mountain complex, it seemed that the Stargate Program had a thing for building most of their structures underground.

Once they'd verified that everything was where it should be on his blueprints, Paula felt much better about finding her own way around. It wasn't nearly as confusing as a Carrier, and she'd mastered that, but on Wednesday it had been just one more overwhelming thing in the pile. She hadn't even had a chance to visit the morgue and autopsy — since they were housed in a different building, where medical was located — until Paul helped her find them.

She'd also apparently been cleared to learn that the Morgans were working on a top secret second project, and thus wouldn't exactly be a part of her command. If they were in town, she could commandeer them to help in an emergency, but it sounded like they'd be gone more often than they'd be around.

Which sucked, because with one exception they were the only people here she kind of sort of knew! Their old team, at the FBI's BAU, was the same team Paula's cousin JJ worked with, and aside from hearing about each other from JJ, they'd met once at a bar when Paula had been in port and JJ had introduced her around.

Even though she did have people from NCIS on her team, Paula didn't know any of them except for Stan, and him very briefly. They'd talked for a few hours a few months ago when their respective ships were docked in New York for fleet week, and they'd run into each other while checking in at the local NCIS office. And now Stan was in Antarctica, while the Morgans would be off doing their own thing.

Still, she had shoved away her disappointment and taken full advantage of having Paul there to show her around; introduce her to prominent members of the Program on Base; and generally be a friendly, familiar face. Though she had enjoyed meeting Sam Carter, and thought they would get along very well. Paula hadn't met many of the other scientists, but Sam and Paul had told enough stories at lunch for her to dread having to police them. And she'd thought being Afloat was bad!

Almost unconsciously, Paula found herself rubbing her wrist. Alone in her bunk, she'd removed the standard band she usually wore, and now she lifted it up, staring at the series of names spelled out.

A few months ago — her first week on the Kennedy, actually — when Lieutenant Shaun Lancer had changed to Captain Shaun Lancer, PhD. she'd been worried. Lieutenant was a rank used across all branches of the service, but if Shaun had been in the Navy, he'd have been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, not Captain. There was a chance he was in the Marines, but she'd started to think that she'd rolled the dice wrong when she chose NCIS.

Now, with the influx of Marines and Air Force officers in her life — especially those with high level degrees like most of the officers at her new post at Area 51 — she had hope again. Sure, the odds of finding Shaun here weren't great — probably worse than her 2 in 5 chance of picking the right service branch by joining NCIS — but she couldn't help but hope. And as worried as she was about creating and running the unit here, if it led her to Shaun she couldn't regret a bit of it.

"Still trying to figure out what to do?" Lily asked, flopping down onto their bed. They were in a married bunk on the Officer's floor of the Mountain, though tomorrow she was off shift so they could go house hunting with the others. Now, she snuggled up to Cass, smelling faintly of toothpaste and shampoo.

"No, I think I know what I've got to do," Cassie said, shifting slightly to accommodate her girlf— no, her fiance's embrace. Tony had confessed to her why he'd taken the job, and she couldn't fault him for chasing his hidden soulmate down the Stargate rabbit hole. Especially not when he'd brought her along, letting Cassie and her own soulmate finally live openly. Surely he'd agree that Cam deserved the same chance, right?

"Tony will understand that you didn't go looking for the information," Lily assured her. That had been Cassie's first worry, when she'd started flipping through the old cases and nearly dropped it when she saw the familiar name staring back at her. She'd known that name since she was a child, when she and her sisters and cousins had all shared every update to their wrists. Theirs was a competitive family, and Cassie had always gotten points for finding her soulmate first, but she couldn't forget those other four names.

"I have to tell him," Cassie decided. To have found one here… what were the odds that there was a completely different Captain Dr Ian Carmichael out there that Cam was destined to run into, besides the one studying alien morphology at Area 51?

And Cassie knew Cam, and she knew that her cousin would be willing to give up just about anything, even her new job at the Jeffersonian, to find the person who matched that name. Surely, with all the people they were hiring, there had to be room for another ME, didn't there? Tony had been quite open about taking suggestions from everyone, so it wasn't like he'd accuse her of favoritism if she asked him to look into Cam.

"If there's the slightest chance that it really is Cam's soulmate, then I have to try."

Lily nodded encouragingly. "And Cam sounds more than qualified to fit in a spot somewhere in the program. From what you told me, Tony's problem is finding enough people, not having too many."

"True," Cassie agreed. "Tomorrow, then, while we're out house hunting. That will give him time to mull it over before we report in on Monday."

"Sounds like a plan," Lily said, giving her a quick, reassuring kiss. "And on that note, we should really get to sleep ourselves, if you're going to be up bright and early to meet everyone tomorrow."

Having already heard Abby and Gerald complain at dinner about the number of stairs they'd had to walk today, Cassie couldn't fault that logic. She quickly got up and brushed her teeth, then came back and snuggled up under the covers with Lily. Tony had been so good about giving her and Lily this chance, and Cassie just couldn't see him refusing to do the same for her cousin. She'd talk to him tomorrow.

Chapter Text

"I'm not sure about this; I don't like the idea of using our hiring procedures as some kind of dating site," George Hammond said, frowning. He and Tom were in the conference room at Homeworld, while Paul Davis skyped in from Area 51 and Tony, Dr. Jackson, and O'Neill represented Cheyenne.

Tom sighed. "I don't exactly like that idea myself, George, but you've got to admit that this is a pretty big coincidence. And given the kind of things you've dealt with the past decade, including notes from other timelines, I'm not sure that coincidence is even the right word."

"You think we're being guided by some kind of higher power?" O'Neill asked skeptically.

"Jack, I used to be an ascended being who popped down for a chat with you in the elevator," Dr. Jackson pointed out.

"Your point?" O'Neill feigned obliviousness.

"Eight pairings, not including Tony and Dr. Jackson. That's a hell of a point!" Tom replied.

"It's bigger than our nine," Tony interrupted. "I got pulled to the side first thing this morning by Cassie Yates. She recognized a name in one of the files the team was browsing yesterday as being her cousin's mate. From what I know about Cam — who I've met in the past — she would be a good fit for the program, and the only reason Cassie hadn't suggested her before was because she'd recently started a new job. Cass said she'd drop it like a hot potato though if it meant she could find her soulmate."

Tom groaned.

"That's not all;" Tony said quickly, with a sympathetic grimace. "We got to talking about Cam's job, and ran into a name that Daniel recognized, and said Jack would too. Apparently she and Cam know Hodgins, our new hire in Area 51, and when we texted him, he confirmed the entire, very unique name.

O'Neill gave Jackson a piercing look, and he shrugged and quietly explained, "Sam." O'Neill groaned and let his head thump into his hands. Tom cast his mind back to when he had gone through SG-1's files, and recalled that the name on Carter's wrist had indeed been very unique. It wasn't the kind of name, like John Smith, that would be easy to mistake.

Tony cleared his throat. "Er, then, at lunch, Captain Perez called me, because she found a name she recognized when reading through old case files, corresponding to a friend at her previous duty station. Their names aren't quite as unique, I'll admit, so that one might be a coincidence, but at this point I'm not willing to bet on it."

"So if it turns out that these three new people would all be a good fit for some position within the program, that means we would have twelve new soulmate pairings as a result of the SGSI expansion," Tom summarized.

"Not only that," Paul Davis spoke up quickly. "You're aware that when we added Bethany Dorchester to the SGSI it was discovered that her cousin and brother were both in the program, stationed in different locations and unaware of each other? And that Mrs. Winnie Bromstead's twin sister was discovered stationed at the Outpost?"

The others made various noises of assent.

"Right before my meeting, while I was checking in with the Morgans, I learned that their computer system has found four more familial matches, including one between Atlantis and Cheyenne that had been missed by us previously. There may be others that aren't bound by shared last names, which Penelope says her system is also capable of finding, provided she reprograms it to do so."

"You know, I thought my life was feeling a little too sane recently," O'Neill mused.

"I'm honestly not surprised," Tony said quickly.

"And why's that?" George asked sharply.

"Well, in terms of soulmates, it isn't like we live in a bubble. The only reason I have my own PhD is because I saw Daniel's name change to Dr when I was in school. Abby picked a federal job from the many offers she had because Kate's title had changed to 'Agent' before then. I know Cassie said that both her cousin Cam and one of her sisters have military ranks on their wrists, and she's always kept an ear out at work for those names. Sergeant and Lieutenant are pretty standard grades, but the next ones up narrow it down a lot. And if someone started with Airman, or Yeoman, or Private, that would eliminate a lot of choices. People gravitate towards the details they can glean, like Agent, Officer, Doctor, Captain… When you put a bunch of those names together, well, people are gonna find each other."

"As for the family connections, military service often runs in families, so the odds of two siblings or cousins both joining the Air Force or Marines and each coming to your attention isn't nothing. And there are plenty of people, like Bethany, and some of the others I knew at NCIS, who couldn't serve themselves, but took a Service-adjacent position, like NCIS, AFOSI, or federal work."

"And the same can be said of the sciences or musical ability or other general genius-y traits. I mean, look at Daniel, both of his parents were archaeologists, and so was his grandfather, and he followed in their footsteps. Cassie's family is full of government scientists and federal agents, and they're all smart as hell, not to mention competitive as all get out. I know plenty of other science nerds who come from a family of science nerds, or artists from a family of artists. You guys talk about hiring the best, well the best are often related to the best. And that's even before you take into account that ATA gene that makes Ancient stuff work. I'm actually more surprised that you don't go genetically test the relatives of your stronger carriers and find a place for them in the program than I am to hear that some have drifted here together by happenstance."

Tony had clearly stumped the Generals, but Davis had a slight smile, and Tom had found himself nodding along. "He's not wrong; I had similar thoughts about testing when I was going through the Atlantean briefing. As you know, I have a bit of an outsider perspective, like Tony, since we're both so new to the Program. I know that when you first started operations, you didn't know about the ATA gene, and so you weren't screening for it. Since then you've taken a more reactive role to looking at those you already employ, but haven't made the leap to screening their families."

"I'm sure I'm not the only one who wondered if Shepperd, O'Neill, or Becket had other relatives out there who might be strong carriers. I know you've had trouble finding people already within the Program who have a strong enough expression of the gene, but what if you could reverse the process? If there was something that your medics could glean from standard blood draws, it shouldn't be too hard to actively seek out serving Marines and Airmen who have the gene, and recruit them, instead of the other way around," Tom concluded.

"That is a good point, but I fear we've strayed a little from our original topic," General Hammond said.

"Not entirely," Dr. Jackson said cautiously. "If it were possible to do some sort of ATA screening from the kind of basic bloodwork that the military keeps handy, would you consider adding it to your search parameters when recruiting to the program?"

"Of course," O'Neill said quickly. "We need all the carriers we can get — especially if we're going to expand Atlantis."

"And would you consider looking at the families of our known carriers to see if you could find a confluence of a strong gene and a useful skill?" Daniel asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

"Probably," George agreed.

"Then what's the difference between seeking out recruits based on their genetic profile, and seeking them out based on their soulmate markings?" Tony asked gently. "You already go out and hunt down scientists who have a specialty you need, making them an offer they can't resist, so it isn't like all of your hiring practices are completely impartial, double blind processes or anything. If you have two perfectly and equally qualified people eligible for one position, wouldn't it make sense to add a tiebreaker point to the one who's soulmate is already hidden in our proverbial black hole beneath Cheyenne Mountain, just like you'd add a point for having the ATA gene?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" George conceded.

"I'm not suggesting that tomorrow we make a giant list of every soulmate name of every single person already in the program and go hunt them down and see what they're doing," Tony said quickly. "I'm just saying that if we do find a link, maybe we don't ignore it, but see if that person might be a good fit for the Program in one capacity or another. And if that keeps working for us, then maybe later we make that list, as well as an ATA carrier list, and whatever other list you discover we need. For all we know, next month you're going to find some different alien race has encoded something into our DNA, and we'll need to make a BTA list or something," he joked.

"Heaven forbid," George sighed, but Tom could tell that he was far less antagonistic towards the idea than he had been at the beginning of the conversation.

"Well, nothing's blown up in my face in at least a month," Jack snarked. "I say we run with the idea."

George raised an eyebrow at him and he added. "Slowly. Run slowly."

When George didn't protest, Tony nodded. "I'll send those names to Penny, then, and she can get us a basic background check before we make the choice to approach them. Since you already approved of expanding my Area-51 teams, we'll be going on another hiring spree soon anyway, and our soulmate connections might let me kill two birds with one stone."

George and O'Neill both quickly agreed, and moved on to the next topic on the agenda. Tom paid attention, but part of his mind was mulling over the ramifications of them actively seeking out soulmate matches for those already in the Stargate program. They had already pretty much done that when they started the SGSI unit, from his decision to approach Tony, to Tony's suggestion of Cassie Yates and her Air Force soulmate. It might not be the way the SGC or Homeworld was used to operating, but Tom and Tony had started the SGSI with a combination of personal recommendations and actively seeking mated pairs who could both benefit the unit. Their method had already proved so effective, he couldn't see it failing to continue in that vein. Though he would make sure they took some precautions in the future, such as double checking with anyone already in the program before inviting their soulmate to join. Some people choose to get lost down the rabbit hole of a classified project for a reason, and Tom didn't intend to surprise anyone who was looking to hide.

"How's it going?" Tony asked Paula as soon as the call connected. He was in the War Room with Delores, Jace, and Cynthia, looking at a split screen of Paula, Penny, and Derek in Nevada and Sam and Stan in the Antarctic Outpost. Penny and Derek had finished clearing everyone they'd already brought into the SGSI, so they were able to have one group meeting, and Jace could remain to operate the equipment, without having to worry about accidentally revealing Project Dolus.

"Peachy," Paula said dryly. "I think this place is worse than being on the Kennedy and Gitmo combined."

Tony laughed. "You're not wrong. Regretting it?"

Paula reached for her wristband, then aborted the movement with a smile. "Not a chance."

"Aw, you're adorable," Penny cooed as Sam snorted.

Tony rolled his eyes at his friend, but resisted the urge to snark back about those who had already found their mates. It wasn't his and Paula's faults that their mates had been hidden in the SGC's proverbial black hole. But Cynthia was sitting beside him, writing a transcript of their meeting, and he was attempting to be professional.

"Officially, how are things going in Nevada?" Tony asked instead, like a proper SAC would.

"Well almost everyone that Penny and Derek have cleared have agreed to the job, so we should be filling out the rest of our roster by the end of the month," Paula said, glancing down at her notes. "Director Morrow is still looking for another evidence tech, two agents, and some kind of support staff for us, but other than that we've filled in our roster nicely."

"Great," Tony said, jotting down the open positions. "I have a few more gaps myself, so hopefully those will also be filled soon too. I understand our temporary penguins have made a friend?"

Penny laughed. "Yes! We cleared McMurdo's AFOSI agent, Major Montgomery earlier this week, and Colonel Kendricks flew down and personally interviewed him and gave him the big reveal. As of last night he's also our Agent Afloat for the Outpost."

"Kendricks spent the night at McMurdo, but is scheduled to arrive here at the Outpost in a few hours," Stan added. "He's going to escort Montgomery and we'll give them both the nickel tour."

"Are you still on track to finish your assessment by the end of next week?" Tony asked.

"We don't anticipate Montgomery or Kendricks throwing a wrench into things, so barring… you know, aliens attacking, we should be," Sam smirked.

"Not as far fetched a complication as I thought a month ago," Tony joked, drawing laughter from the others. "Well barring unexpected aliens, your helo back to McMurdo and then your priority ride to Nevada are both scheduled for next Friday, so just let us know if you need to delay."

Sam and Stan quickly murmured their agreement.

"I know you weren't looking for this in particular, but any cases jump out at you?"

"We've heard some rumors, but weren't sure how much you wanted us to dig into them," Sam said. "Given the time crunch."

Tony quickly ran through the pros and cons. "You're right; I want you two to prioritize our infrastructure and Agent Afloat program. Once Major Montgomery is properly ready, we'll set him on the task of digging into the Outpost's nooks and crannies. If he needs backup, we'll prioritize getting our first agent for the battlecruisers and send them down to partner with him until they're caught up."

"Sounds good," Stan agreed, Sam nodding beside him. Tony glanced at Cynthia and Delores, who both nodded and made notes on their notepads. Personal laptops for his crew were still a work in progress, so they were all making due with legal pads for the moment.

"Anything else from the penguin squad?"

"I dread what nicknames you'll come up with for our next posting," Sam said dryly.

Tony smirked. He was trying to be relatively professional, yes, but he wasn't going to become a pod person. "I've been narrowing it down to the best options in anticipation," he promised.

"There is one thing," Stan said pensively. "I'm not sure… well, I'm not sure if it's a problem or if it's nothing…"

"Go ahead," Tony prompted. "I'd rather waste a little time tracking down something that ends up being nothing than missing something big."

"I just got a very strange pair of emails late yesterday from NCIS HQ. One was insisting that I had some outstanding paperwork I needed to speak to someone about, and the other was reminding me that when I came back to DC for court prep next week I would need to meet HR and the director about my next posting. At first I thought they were meant for someone else, because I double checked all my paperwork, and I have no upcoming trials."

"Your last few court martials were all handled on the ship, weren't they?" Tony asked, casting his mind back to what he'd read in Stan's file and his own experience in his introductory Afloat position.

"They were," Stan agreed. "I sent back an email asking for clarification, and basically got told that even if I didn't have court, I'd still have to attend the meeting about my new posting on the Carl Vinson."

"It sounds like someone is trying to reroute you away from the SGSI," Delores said sharply. "Who specifically sent the email?"

"Mae Litton," Stan read off.

Delores huffed. "Of course it was. I'll deal with her."

"You're going to have a lot to talk to her about," Paula said, holding up a piece of paper. "One of the items on my agenda for today is the strange email I got from Mae Litton in HR, reminding me of my meeting with the Director scheduled for next Wednesday to discuss my next assignment."

"I got one saying I needed to schedule a meeting to talk about some missing information and paperwork," Jace added. "I don't remember the name, because I only had a moment to look before I had to get in here to set up, and it didn't seem high enough priority to delay."

Tony grabbed his work phone and pulled up the group chat he'd created as his people were issued numbers, then quickly shot off a mass text. As the others discussed the odd requests, answers quickly rolled in.

"Add Jivin and Bethany to your list," he warned Delores, scrolling through the replies. "Cassie is logging in right now. I haven't heard back from Abby, but Gerald… okay, he thinks he didn't get one because he was coming off of medical leave, not an active position." Tony tapped his fingers on the table as he worked through it. "Thinking about it, I'm not sure how his assignment was actually processed because of that. I know there was a rumor making the rounds a little while ago that he had quit because of his injuries, so if there was any truth to that he might have been rehired directly by Homeland. Even if that's not the case exactly, if he's right about the general disassociation then Madam Director might not realize he's here with us, or she might not even know who he is— Oh! Cass checked and she's got one too. I haven't checked my own email this morning, but what are the odds I'll have been spared?"

Delores huffed. "It sounds like the new Director is attempting to gather information about this post in these 'interviews'."

"Or by tracking whatever flights you have to arrange to get back to DC," Sam pointed out, looking down at his own phone. "I don't have one, but I was based out of LA, and Marcy might just have ignored the request or chosen not to pass it on."

"This definitely sounds like something we need to send up the chain to Matthews and Morrow," Tony decided. "As soon as we finish up here I'll see if we can get a conference call between San Diego and DC. In the meantime, forward anything you've got like that to the three of us and Matthews, since he's technically our superior agent. None of this should have bypassed him in the first place."

Paula and Stan agreed as Tony texted the same instructions to the rest of his team.

"Has anyone at the FBI poked into you two or Sana?" Cynthia asked Penny and Derek.

"Someone tried, but they didn't even come close to breaking through my encryptions," Penny admitted. "I'd need to double check the files of the rest of our FBI people, but I can say that this came from someone within the Bureau, not externally from a different agency or a civilian. They wouldn't have gotten as far as they did without that head start."

"Okay, so we either have a second Nosy Nellie or the new Director has a friend in the FBI," Tony said.

"They're both plausible," Delores said.

"It wasn't Gibbs's FBI friend, Fornell, was it?" Cynthia asked. She'd witnessed Morrow arbitrate more than one argument about jurisdiction between the two men.

"He doesn't have the skills, but he definitely could have asked for a favor from one of your analysts," Tony reasoned. "I thought Abby and I had done a fairly good job of dissuading him from trying to track us down, though. And I figure he would have asked McGee to do it before he sunk so low as to go to the Bureau. Penny and Jace, can you coordinate with Zane and Pamela?"

"Of course," Jace replied.

"On it," Penny said quickly, her fingers flying over her keyboard.

"Okay, we'll table that until you guys find a lead or we hear more from on high." Tony sighed. "Next?"

"That's it from us," Stan said, Sam nodding beside him.

"Derek?"

"We're making good progress clearing the new prospects for the SGSI," he reported. "Now that we're caught up with the initial hiring spree, we're able to keep pace with the newcomers, and we're starting to make headway on the people already in the Stargate Program. So far no immediate red flags have jumped out other than the ones we've already reported."

Tony nodded. There was no reason to go into details about Landry here, though he knew from chatting with Jack over lunch that thanks to the Morgans' warning they were looking in a different direction for the next program head.

"I've had a chance to meet with Agent Putnam and do our initial impressions," Derek reported.

Tony quickly looked over his list of personnel. "That's our Army EOD turned ATF agent, isn't it?"

"Yep. Natalie and I agree that basically every lab is an explosion waiting to happen," Derek smirked. "And we're lucky that none of the storage rooms have already gone boom."

"Wonderful," Tony sighed.

"She's familiarizing herself with the basics of the alien inventory now so she can do a lab by lab assessment for the highest risks, probably starting late next week at the earliest. The EOD squad stationed here is already read in, for the most part, so she wants permission to commandeer them, since I'll be too focused on Project Dolus to help."

"Done," Tony agreed. "Cynthia, can you email Hammond and ask him to talk to Area 51's commander about that?"

"Of course."

"Anything else either of you needs for that project?"

"She's making up a list of safety and fire suppression gear as she goes, but that will take a while," Derek explained.

"Alright, please make sure she knows to copy Cynthia and I on that, as well as whoever is in charge of requisitions in Nevada. At some point we'll probably need her to come do something similar here. From what I've seen in the files, bombs and fires have generally been handled by our own EOD squads in the past, but there doesn't appear to be more than the standard suppression system in the labs, and I can't find any kind of risk assessments or best practices. If we had to investigate any kind of explosion or fire I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I'll let her know," Derek said, "But it'll probably be a few months."

"That's fine," Tony agreed. "The Mountain's still standing after all these years; I'm sure we'll last a little longer." Jace and Delores both unobtrusively knocked on the wooden table to ward off his words, and Tony suppressed a smirk. "Anything else from you or Penny?"

Both Morgans shook their heads.

"Paula?"

"I'm happy to report we solved our first cold case, and a second one that no one knew existed," she said with a smirk.

"Oh?" Tony could sense a story. "Do tell."

"Well, the room we were assigned for our legal support team had apparently been used as records storage in the past. The McNamaras were cleaning everything and found a jammed drawer in one of the file cabinets. Low and behold there were a handful of files from Accounting jammed inside it which couldn't be seen until it was turned over and partially dismantled."

"I'm afraid to ask…" Delores said warily.

Paula's smirk widened. "Well apparently, a whole bunch of receipts and requests for reimbursement had gone missing a few years back. Consequently there's been an ongoing feud for the last three years between the Finance Department and the Botany slash Ecology departments. Both sides have been accusing the other of losing the paperwork, and four different scientists have been loudly insisting that they're still owed money for various reimbursements."

"And you finally found the files," Tony said.

"So who's file cabinet was it?" Sam asked.

"Oh, they're both still pointing their fingers at the others, but the last file in the stack was purely Accounting, so we've officially declared it their mistake," Paula said. "Which, let me tell you, did not endear them to the SGSI."

"Wonderful," Tony groaned.

"At least they should be happy that the feud is over, right?" Penny asked.

"Oh, you'd think so," Paula said. "But apparently they can't actually give the reimbursements out now because they weren't put into this year's budget, and next year's budget has already been submitted for approval, so the scientists will have to wait until the year after that to get their money. I honestly think they like screwing with the botanists at this point. But I told them that it was no longer an open investigation and to talk to their CO if they had a new problem with Accounting."

"Good call," Tony said. "And your other case?"

"Well after that, we decided to go through every one of our new spaces with a fine toothed comb," Paula said. "We pulled out every cabinet and drawer and poked in every corner. And low and behold we found an alien gadget that had fallen behind the shelves in what had been an auxiliary storage room. However, we didn't have anything like it on our list of missing items, so the McNamaras from legal helped Yeoman Granger and our first records clerk — Amy Hassan — go through all of the storage inventories until they found the device, which happened to be a sonic emitter that can melt your brain with enough exposure."

"Oh my God," Jace muttered.

Tony sighed. "Of course it was. Not like they could lose an alien paperclip or something else innocuous."

"It gets better," Paula promised him with a dark look. "So once they know what it is and where it's supposed to be, they go check the actual store rooms. They popped open the case and found three missing sonic emitters from a case that was supposed to hold a dozen."

"So there's two more out there somewhere," Tony realized.

"Since they were already there, the four of them poked around, popping the lids off of every crate in that aisle, and found four more gaps that weren't on our list, and one that was on our list but with more missing than was reported."

"So either someone isn't storing and checking the inventory correctly and they're misplacing tons of things; someone's inflating the numbers when they log them in initially for some reason; or you have a thief and someone's covering their tracks by leaving stuff off the missing list." Tony concluded.

"Pretty much," Paula sighed. "I've pulled everyone off of reading the old cases and set them to taking an accurate inventory, but that will take a while. And we can't trust any of the marines and airmen who work in that department…"

"Because they might be in on it," Sam said with disgust.

"Exactly."

"Almost enough to make you miss having probies and TADs, huh?" Tony teased.

Stan shuddered. "Not the ones we got."

"You're just saying that because you two had to protect them from Gibbs," Paula pointed out smugly as the others from the Yard expressed their own amusement. "Most lead agents don't take pride in driving away every TAD before lunch."

Tony met Stan's eye and shrugged. "She's not wrong."

"Is there anything we can do to help you with the inventory?" Cynthia asked, gently tugging them back on track.

Paula shrugged. "Not unless you want to physically send people down here for a few weeks."

"I'd seriously consider it if we were slightly better established," Tony promised.

"Are you comparing what you find to the inventory as you go, or looking it up later?" Jace asked suddenly.

"Doing it as we go," Paula said.

"What if you just wrote down everything you found, and sent those lists to us?" Jace said. "We could do the actual inventory comparison remotely, couldn't we?"

"If there isn't already a remote link to the Mountain in the inventory system I can totally make one," Penny promised.

"Take pictures as you go," Tony suggested. "That way we can double check that the thing labeled 'deadly sprocket' is actually a 'deadly sprocket' while we're at it."

"Good point," Derek agreed. "That would be another easy way to cover up thefts; take all the 'deadly sprockets' and fill the box with 'harmless gizmos.' Someone who doesn't know what either one looks like would see the full sprocket box and the empty gizmo one and assume that the gizmos are what's missing."

"We'll have to do a little backtracking," Paula admitted, "Because you're right, and we weren't checking full boxes. But if your team can help, this'll go much faster."

"We're happy to help," Tony promised. "We've solved our own open cases anyway, so we're buried in old mission reports again. Doing a little inventory might even be a nice change of pace."

"What kind of cases did you have?" Penny asked cheerfully.

"First, anything else, Paula?" Tony asked.

She quickly shook her head. "Just the same house hunting as you. Please thank the General for giving that incentive for his men to help us move. We've got more scientists than airmen and marines, but just about every one we do have has added themselves to the moving list."

"I will," Tony said. "Well, we had three cases…"

When the quiet alarm on his phone went off, Tony shut it off and then cracked his neck with a relieved sigh. "Alright people, pack it up," Tony declared, as the rest of his team echoed his actions. Without the windows and natural light of the Navy Yard or other previous offices, they'd found that setting alarms on their phones to remind them about lunch and send them home was a necessity.

Tony quickly tucked the files he'd been looking at back into their folder and placed it on the top of his tray, then made quick work of closing down his laptop. Since he'd been able to get one connected to the Base network, he was able to leave his desktop in his office and use the laptop to bounce between there and the bullpen. He'd retrieved the relevant files off of his personal laptop earlier in the week and transferred them over, then left it at Daniel's where he wouldn't have to worry about security confiscating it.

"Who's on sweep duty?" Tony asked, glancing at the white board. In the corner they'd drawn a small rotating schedule, and Tony saw his own name in bright blue dry erase under "Friday." "Oh, me I guess," he chuckled. At the moment they were tripled up, waiting for the rest of their teams to arrive, so he hadn't committed it to memory yet.

"Have fun," Cassie called, giving him a grin as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Perez and Michaelson also offered him polite goodnights as they quickly packed up. As Tony started on his rounds, poking his head into every SGSI space and making sure all his people were heading home, he worked out the kinks in his back and shoulders from being hunched over his desk for so long. On the MCRT, he was used to a more active day, and it showed. He was going to need to find a new chiropractor in the Springs before much longer.

Of course, soon they'd be off of desk duty and taking cases, instead of reviewing decades worth of old files. Not that Tony wanted something bad to happen, just so that they'd get a little exercise, but he'd been over enough of the Program's files — not to mention stories from Daniel and his team — to know that this calm was not at all typical. While he appreciated the aliens and secret shady organizations and politicians giving him and his team a little time to get their feet under them, Tony couldn't help but hope that he didn't spend all of next week just reviewing old cases.

Of course, they'd had a little excitement this week as well, Tony reflected as he finished his rounds on their floor and headed up to catch the cyber crew. They'd had three open "cases" and managed to solve all of them in between their hours of catching up. The one Tony had jokingly dubbed the highest priority was tracking down their own missing supplies. With his new connections in supply, it hadn't taken Tony long to figure it out, though he did let his two new people, Perez and Michaelson, handle most of the work. Tony was familiar enough with Cassie not to need to see her in action yet, but the others were just words on a page so far; Tony wanted to see them actually working a case.

Learning that all shipments to the mountain arrived at the same place before being sorted for "above" and "below" ground, and then a quick search of the SGC's loading area meant that the obvious next step was to go check out Norad's receiving department. From there it had only taken Perez and Michaelson about ten minutes, while Tony propped up a wall and observed them, to find their wayward supplies. One damaged shipping label; one very confused clerk who couldn't figure out why Norad would want colored pencils of all things; and one Airman on duty down below who hadn't met Tony and thus couldn't figure out what the SGC would want with them either; and the mystery was solved. Cassie had cheekily informed the Norad gang that any other bizarre supplies would probably also be for them, and then handed over Tony's card so they could check in with him directly next time.

Jace and Pamela were already heading out when Tony arrived, so he simply wished them a good weekend and then headed down to rout out his science staff. Abby and Gerald had been making friends, Tony knew from their various chats over the past week, and his ME, Dr. Perkins, assured him that she was settling in fine, though she was more focused on her son than on meeting anyone beyond the SGSI or medical team at the moment. Tony didn't blame her at all, and he had no problem with some of his people falling more on the antisocial side of the spectrum. Not everyone had a personality like Abby's, and that was more than alright with him.

Tony's investigative team had also met their share of the scientists in the Mountain this past week, wrapping up both of their other open cases. In looking for the missing synthesizer, Tony had started by taking his group from lab to lab to meet each scientist and get them all used to seeing his people around. While Tony was being generally friendly and cheerful, the other three had done a discrete survey, looking for that specific piece of equipment and noting which labs had one. At the end of the day, they came up with the right number of synthesizers, so it was just a matter of cross-checking who was supposed to have one versus who actually did. In the end, Tony was completely unsurprised to find that one Dr. Greene had been tired of waiting for his request to be approved, and had simply liberated the synthesizer from Dr. Holter's office when he was offworld for a week.

Reaching the Autopsy lab, Tony found it dark and empty; clearly his people had already headed home for the weekend. Heading back to the elevators, he quickly made his way to his last stop — Abby. With their unusual physical location, and the lack of outside lighting to help them realize how much time had passed, it was far too easy to get lost in the groove of reading cases, sorting files, or running tests. By initiating these sweeps, Tony hoped to get everyone in the habit of taking care of each other and ensuring that no one lost their evening to the job when it wasn't necessary. There would be plenty of time for them to put in 36 hour days during an emergency, so there was no reason to work past 5 when there wasn't one.

"Tony!" Abby greeted him cheerfully. "I'm just waiting for all my babies to finish powering down!"

"Take your time," Tony assured her, sitting down in her office chair and slowly spinning it. "Did you and Dr. Jorgensen have fun playing with her big magnet?"

"We did!" Abby gushed.

The magnet had been the culprit behind the Mountain's final open case. Cutlery had been disappearing in greater numbers than the Mess staff could account for it. When Tony had Cassie interview them, she learned that they expected a certain amount to be out in the labs or berthing at any given time, and that they'd long ago added magnets to their mess hall trash cans to catch any pieces that were accidentally thrown away; a common practice that Tony was familiar with. However, they'd had a slowly growing deficit beyond what they expected, and it was baffling the cook in charge.

Cassie and Perez had poked around the emergency mess on their own floor, but only found the expected amount of cutlery stored up there, give or take a few spoons. In the end, they'd accidentally solved this case while working on the missing synthesizer. Because they were poking around every single lab, Perez had noticed a counter in Dr. Jorgensen's space that had a Mess tray on top of it containing two plates and no silverware. Curious, she'd looked closer, and seen the very tip of a handle sticking up from behind it. It had turned out that Jorgensen's assistant hadn't properly stowed their giant magnet, and it had collected about a hundred pieces of silverware that slid off the trays and out of sight.

Abby, of course, found the story hilarious, and had rushed off to ask Jorgensen if they could play — experiment — with the magnet while Tony's team brought the newly freed silverware back to the grateful Mess crew.

It only took a few more minutes to get Abby's lab powered down and she bounced off towards the elevators with a quick kiss to Tony's cheek. Tony waited until she was on her way upstairs, then turned and headed off for his last roundup: finding his wayward soulmate.

Chapter Text

With all of his people on their way home, Tony headed down the now familiar path to Daniel's office. Daniel had actually been offworld yesterday, accompanying SG-8, and it had been surprisingly lonely in Daniel's apartment without him last night. But the scheduled offworld alert had gone out right on time this afternoon, heralding their return. By Tony's estimate, they should have gotten through Medical and their return briefing by now, and he was hopeful that Daniel would be ready to go home soon.

"Hello?" Tony asked, poking his head in the open door.

"Tony!" Daniel greeted him brightly. He looked no worse for wear, given the night he'd spent offworld, and Tony felt the tension in his shoulders drain away. He'd only known Daniel for less than two weeks, but he'd come to care for him quite a bit in that time. Beyond just the initial rush at two soulmates connecting, which faded after the first two or three days, he and Daniel actually had a lot in common, and were getting along like they'd always lived together. Part of Tony was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but part of him knew that Daniel's upcoming trip to Atlantis was probably the inevitable footwear.

"How was P8K-27B?" Tony asked.

"Good! They've been doing really well every year since we first made contact, and it's great to see how much their life has improved since then." The planet was one that SG-1 had first visited, hence Sam and Daniel returning with the other team, despite their own officially being on stand down.

"No sign of their Goa'uld returning?" Daniel had explained over dinner the night before he left that this was a settlement who's snakey leader had vanished — presumably killed in one of their many internal power struggles — shortly before SG-1 made contact, and the people had been suffering without a leader after so long of his rule. The team had given them a quick and dirty primer on self regulation and then someone had gone back roughly every six to nine months to check on their progress.

"No. And we'd gotten confirmation a few months ago that Hermes actually was dead, but the good news is that no other Goa'uld has stepped in and tried to take over in their absence," Daniel explained. They'd had that happen before with planets they'd liberated, as he'd explained to Tony before leaving. "Still, Chief Paola really appreciated the confirmation, and promised to spread the word to the rest of the towns."

"That's good. They aren't part of the Free Jaffa, though, right?" Tony checked. "Because they aren't technically Jaffa?" That line could be a little blurry, given that there was no physical difference before their immune system was swapped for a symbiote, only a cultural one, and Tony was still learning the ins and outs of their people.

"Right," Daniel confirmed. "We had talked last year about potentially having some warriors go there to train and protect them, on the off chance that a different Goa-uld comes looking, but they were understandably put off by the idea. After being oppressed by Hermes' Jaffa for so long, trusting free ones — especially any who used to serve Hermes — will take a long time."

"That's fair," Tony said. Daniel had explained the nuances of the Free Jaffa movement earlier in the week, before he left, and Tony could understand where Chief Paola was coming from. On the one hand, yeah, it was easy to intellectually acknowledge that the Jaffa had also been oppressed by the Goa-uld, but it was another thing to trust the supposedly reformed prison guards just because the evil warden was dead now.

"It's nice that you go back and check on them," he added. The thought had been percolating since their earlier conversation about P8K-27B, but Tony hadn't found the proper words until later. "Reading all the old files from this place, I've seen a ton of 'First Contact's, but not a lot of seconds or thirds. That's probably because we're still going through the first two years, but I'm glad we're not just… leaving people to it."

Daniel chuckled. "That took some doing, actually. You'll find that return contact trips did pick up after the first few years, but mainly because we put together a few teams specifically for that task. In the first year or two, every team did a little bit of everything. But now we've got teams specifically geared towards first contact, return contact, search and rescue, science, anthropology, etc."

"Ah, the infamous Doctor-sitting duty," Tony laughed, having come across that term already in Jack's file notes.

Daniel scowled, but Tony could tell it wasn't directed at him, but at Jack's past comments. "Thankfully the members of those teams are chosen specifically for their patience with Doctor-sitting," he allowed.

"Have you ever gone out with them?" Tony asked. "I know you were doing big important things with SG-1, and I mean, now that I've been reading your files I have an idea of exactly how big and important your team has been for our continued existence as a species and planet, but have you ever just gotten the chance to go out with one of the other teams and let your inner archaeologist have fun?"

Daniel smiled softly. "Yeah, actually. We had a few periods of downtime, usually when General Hammond dragged Jack off to meetings in DC for a few weeks, or when he was unavailable for one reason or another and Jack had to sit in the big chair for a while. Usually Teal'c would hang around training with the Marines or go back to visit his family. Sam would get lost in her lab, and I would work on my translations and papers. But sometimes, Sam or I would go offworld with another team to take care of some of the stuff we missed out on being a first contact team. The first contact team."

"I'm glad," Tony said. "It's obvious that you belong on SG-1, and the files make it clear that you saved everyone's bacon more than once. But I'm glad you also get to take time to slow down and do what you love."

Daniel nodded.

"Of course," Tony smirked, "most people actually take a vacation on their down time. Have you even left the Mountain for one of those in the last decade? And no, time offworld does not count."

"Ass," Daniel pretended to pout for a moment, but he couldn't hold it, and chuckled instead. "Yes, I have actually taken a vacation. Twice. But I'd rather go visit P8K-27B than go sit in a hotel room somewhere."

"I see the problem," Tony said with mock seriousness. "You're doing vacations all wrong. You aren't supposed to go sit in a hotel room. You're supposed to go out and enjoy whatever place you're visiting."

Daniel tossed a pen at him, which Tony easily deflected. "I know how to take vacations! Last time I went to Mexico and checked on a dig site where a friend of mine was working. I got to tag along with her team for a few days and then spent a few days at the local tourist trap getting souvenirs for the team and being bored out of my mind."

"Well I'll fix that," Tony decided. "When we go on a vacation together I'll teach you how to do it right."

Daniel was silent for a few moments before he tentatively asked, "You'd want to go on a vacation together?"

Tony blinked, realizing how... together that had sounded, then decided to forge ahead. "Of course! We both know several languages that make foreign travel much easier, and I'm definitely dragging you to Italy at some point so I can share my favorite things there with you. I'd love to have you show me some place that you care about, or where you know all the best local spots that tourists don't normally find. I know I won't actually have any free time from the SGSI for a while, and you'll be in Atlantis — though we're already sort of talking about taking a working vacation there, aren't we?"

"I'm not sure that counts," Daniel said with a smile.

Tony shrugged. "Maybe not. And I don't suppose the Oversight Committee would approve of powering up the stargate just to let people take a vacation to some nice, safe tropical planet like Fhloston Paradise."

"Probably not," Daniel chuckled, then paused. "Fhloston Paradise?"

Tony sighed dramatically. "Okay, we're definitely watching that next. It's a crime that you work with literal aliens and you've never seen The Fifth Element."

"If you say so," Daniel said as he hefted his bag and slipped out from behind his desk.

"I do say so," Tony teased, backing out of the doorway to give him room to close and lock the door. "And I'm a cop, so I know my crimes."

"Of course, how silly of me to doubt you," Daniel snarked back as they headed down the hallway.

They kept up the banter all the way out of the Mountain, to Tony's Mustang (since Daniel had been offworld, Tony had offered to drive those days, rather than have Daniel leave his Jeep at the Mountain for the duration), and back to the house. Once they got there, Tony wasted no time in loading up his DVD of The Fifth Element, and then he claimed his spot in the kitchen while Daniel started packing up his books and artifacts for storage.

Tony wholeheartedly believed the axiom that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and he fully intended to pull out all the stops in the short period he and Daniel had before the Daedalus set out for Atlantis. He'd taken advantage of Daniel's absence the night before to really make a mess, creating his homemade pasta and sauce from scratch, and prepping some casseroles. All of that was now tucked in the freezer to pull out and bake later.

Tonight, he felt like being fancy, so Tony pulled out his Timballo di Maccheroni recipe and began prepping. As he'd hoped, Daniel got drawn into the movie, actually pausing to comment on the opening archaeological scene, and the hieroglyphics they described. Leeloo's language also led to a fascinating digression that Tony happily followed, having memorized all of the relevant lines long ago. Daniel, of course, was able to identify their probable language of origin, and had several theories about what Luc Besson had been aiming for when he constructed the language. Tony found himself thoroughly enjoying what others might uncharitably call a dry, academic discussion as he put the finishing touches on the Timballo di Maccheroni.

For all that Jack joked about Doctor Sitting duty in his reports, and for all that it was clearly a part of his usual banter with Daniel, Tony actually found it easy to talk to his mate about his field, He was just so passionate about his work that Tony couldn't help but be swept right along. He'd probably feel differently if they were on a case — mission — with someone pointing guns at them, but here at home, in a delicious smelling kitchen, with one of his favorite comfort movies on TV, it was easy to let himself sink into the moment and enjoy it.

It was a bit too impractical to eat on the couch, so when the food was ready Tony set up the little-used dining room table and they paused the movie long enough to eat and continue their linguistics chat. He was justifiably smug at the blissful noises Daniel made as they shared the dinner, and he made a mental note of which things Daniel took seconds of.

Afterwards, they resumed packing up, finishing the bookshelves just as the movie ended. Daniel had spent so long living out of storage units that most of what he owned was fairly packable, and they'd already taken care of the fragile things before his last mission. The books were relatively easy to box up and stack in the corner, ready to go to storage, and they were already catalogued and organized by shelf, so Tony didn't have to worry about screwing things up when he helped.

Daniel, having planned this trip since literally before the first Expedition even left for Atlantis, had long since made a packing list. With space at a premium on the battlecruisers, and no way to easily grab something from the store if he forgot it, Daniel had had to very carefully consider each and every pound and inch in his allotment. And from what Tony had seen, he'd only barely managed not to pack up the things he still needed on a daily basis even before Tony had arrived, over a month out from their departure date!

It was convenient from a packing point of view, at least, as Tony didn't have to worry about accidentally packing something that Daniel might need, like a book in a language he didn't recognize. The first night, Daniel had only managed to work for 10 minutes before Tony had gotten antsy and jumped up to help, unable to sit still and watch his mate work while he lounged around. So it was very reassuring to know that he could help without risking packing up some book or gadget that Daniel might actually need in Atlantis.

With the living room packed up, Tony and Daniel snuggled down on the sofa together to watch another movie — this one of Daniel's choosing. As much as he enjoyed their talks, Tony also loved these moments; the warm press of their bodies against each other, the quiet breaths that meant he wasn't alone in his empty apartment. The occasional wandering hands that stroked Tony's hand, or skimmed along Daniel's back, or tangled in Tony's hair. And the inevitable kissing— Tony was going to miss that the most of all while Daniel was gone. He loved the light scratch of Daniel's stubble, loved the weight of Daniel on top of him when he pressed Tony down into the couch, loved sliding his hands up under Daniel's shirt and tracing his muscles when Tony was the one on top, loved the taste of Daniel and coffee that persisted no matter the time of day, loved the warmth on his wrist that pulsed each time as though to confirm that this wasn't a dream; it was finally happening.

Tony loved it all.

He was absolutely going to die from a lack of making out while Daniel was on Atlantis, he was sure of it. Abby would definitely put it on his headstone, too: Here lies Tony, dead from kissing deprivation while his boyfriend worked long distance.

He knew they were doing the right thing by not fully solidifying their bond, or the distance would be even harder to manage, and Tony was already perilously close to saying "fuck it" and signing on to be an anthropologist on Atlantis. It would probably be easier to resist that urge once the Daedalus was gone, but for now Tony felt like he was fighting an internal war every time he thought about Daniel kissing him senseless.

And yet, even with that prospect of separation on his horizon, Tony couldn't regret the timing of their meeting, and this brief time that he got to spend together with Daniel before he left.

Especially the making out.

Daniel had never felt so conflicted in his life; not even when his research pointed to aliens using the pyramids as landing pads and he had to confront the dilemma of sharing his findings or keeping his credibility! He had almost changed his mind about leaving on a near daily basis since Jack had literally dragged Tony into his life. But every time he thought about staying, the pull to go got stronger.

What had just been an inkling had taken a more solid form when Tony helped talk him through it, and from the stronger and stronger nudges that Daniel had gotten since then, he was now positive that something was urging him to go to Atlantis. This wasn't just jealousy that the others were discovering new things without him, or annoyance that Jack hadn't let him go the first time. This was something bigger than Daniel's ego or logic. This was important.

That didn't make it any easier to keep from completing his bond with Tony and staying on Earth. Thankfully they both had enough self control at times to keep from going too far, and Tony was amazingly supportive of Daniel's apparent Calling. He wasn't any happier than Daniel was about it, but he was as supportive as possible. After years of being dragged by his peers, and even the constant little digs from Jack about his worth, it was a refreshing change to have someone support him unconditionally like Tony seemed to.

Of course, they'd only known each other for two weeks, but in that time Daniel had felt more loved and accepted than he had in decades — possibly since his parents had died.

Their down time was mostly spent packing, since Daniel had decided to move out of his house before heading to Atlantis. Of course, they multi-tasked, talking and watching movies while they worked. It was clear that one of Tony's love languages was in cooking — which Daniel definitely didn't mind! — and another was through his movies. Unlike when Jack forced him to watch a Hockey game, Tony was always careful to make sure they took turns picking the movie, and even some of the ones that Daniel hadn't expected to like were made more interesting by Tony's passionate commentary.

Though they did throw on at least one movie to relax to each day, most of their time was spent talking. The first week or so they glossed over several points, but eventually, more and more came out. For Daniel, the most painful conversation had been when he explained that his parents had died when he was eight, and he learned that Tony had been the same age when he lost his mom. It turned out that Tony could also relate to Nick's rejection and Daniel's being placed in foster care. Though he hadn't been fostered himself, he had been disowned at twelve, and sent to boarding schools: first St. Augustine's, and then RIMA for high school.

The pain Daniel had felt when his grandfather Nick, refused to take him in was something that Tony completely understood, just as Daniel got how it felt to be abandoned by his Paddington relatives until he could prove that he was not a conman like his father. Apparently, just becoming a police officer wasn't enough — it wasn't until he became a federal agent that they suddenly made contact and granted him a small trust fund. After the initial splurge on suits to match his new job, he'd resisted using it, though he said he couldn't explain why. Daniel guessed that it felt a little too much like being bought off so he'd forget that they'd ignored him as a child. It certainly felt that way to him when the SGC hired someone who had previously scoffed at his research, and they had a sudden about face when they realized that he was a) correct, and b) their new boss.

Their situations weren't identical, of course, but they didn't need to be to understand the pain the other had felt through their lives. More and more Daniel realized exactly how perfectly the universe had matched them. He wasn't sure if that was true of all soulmates, but he was finding himself more and more intrigued by something he had only thought about in the abstract before.

Of course, not all of their conversations were so heavy. On the lighter side, Tony explained the reasoning behind his number 25 — Daniel, the very opposite of a jock, had had no idea why that number was on his wrist — and they even watched The Pleasure Garden together over dinner. After dinner, and the subsequent discussion of music in Silent Era pictures, the conversation circled back around to Tony's music degree. Daniel shared that he could play the piano fairly well, and had dabbled in percussion instruments. He even owned a piano, — which Tony had clearly noticed — though he had no sentimental attachment to it.

Tony confessed to playing piano, guitar, drums, and upright bass well, and being decent on flute, violin, and clarinet. Jokingly, he claimed that if instruments were languages, he'd be four and three to Daniel's one and one. Though he admitted to dabbling in another handful throughout his degree. In this field, Tony was definitely the more erudite of them, but that didn't bother Daniel: his love of languages and Tony's love of music were both special in their own right, and it wasn't a competition, just another way they could connect. During those conversations, Daniel learned that Tony had inherited his mother's piano, and had put it in storage when he moved to Colorado. He clearly had a great sentimental attachment to it, while Daniel's piano was something he had gotten from a previous furnished apartment. It was easy enough for Daniel to offer to sell his own piano and replace it with Claire's baby grand.

Of course, that was when they realized they were blithely talking about the logistics of moving in together, but that small hurdle was passed pretty quickly. Tony was already sleeping on Daniel's couch, and Daniel had already accompanied him on his search for a house, expressing a general approval of the one he'd picked. They were putting Daniel's things in storage in Tony's new home so that he could sell this house, and Daniel's bedroom was being put in one of Tony's spare rooms for him to sleep in whenever he was back on Earth. But despite that, everything was still very much separated. Daniel's couch. Tony's spare room. Daniel's books. Tony's movies. Everything that had happened so far had all been logistics and impersonal and practical. It wasn't about actually combining their possessions, or about Tony promising that Daniel could play his mother's precious piano wherever he wanted, or the realization that suddenly hit Daniel that some day they'd want to combine their bedrooms. Daniel found himself a little breathless at (and possibly hid in his office through lunch to come to terms with) how quickly things were moving, but he figured that was probably the difference between dating around and finding your soulmate.

Daniel, of course, had learned to embrace what life threw at him when he thought he was trapped on Abydos, and life in the Stargate Program had reinforced that dogma. But that had always been about settling. He was all about leaping in with both feet when the moment felt right, because he'd lost so much before that there didn't seem to be a point in holding back. He'd lost his academic standing and was a laughing stock in his career, so he jumped into the Stargate program. He thought he'd have no chance with his soulmate because they were literally planets apart, so he'd embraced an Abydonian life with Sha're. Daniel had tried to live without regrets — though he wasn't always successful — but all of that felt like a completely different lifetime compared to two weeks of living with Tony. If this was what it felt like to actually live with your soulmate, Daniel was never going to have to struggle to find the good in his situation again; he just had to look at Tony and there it was. And he was never so grateful that Jack had stopped him from going to Atlantis the year before!

"I have a question," Tony said as they were eating lunch in Daniel's office. They'd taken to having lunch in either of their offices, instead of the mess, so they could squeeze in a few more dates. Today they'd already discussed the progress on Tony's house application and Daniel's breakthrough on a translation, and were almost out of time when he decided to ask. "I'm not sure if this is a thing that I'm missing because I'm new to this, or a thing where someone dropped the ball a long time ago and no one realized, or another thing entirely."

"I'll help if I can," Daniel quickly offered.

"We've gotten up to the start of the third year with the program, and we've noticed several times that enemies — or black holes, or virus filled orbs — have had direct access to this base. Like when that Goa'uld Apophis came, or that symbiote in Carter that ended up being a Tok'ra."

Daniel nodded. "It hasn't been an uncommon complaint," he agreed.

"Well maybe I'm just sensitive to it because we recently had a foothold incident at NCIS — the one where Gerald was shot — but why don't you have a beta site? A staging point that you use to launch and return missions, so no one knows the actual address of Earth, or can get access to Stargate Command? Is there a reason?"

Daniel looked thoughtful as he ate his lunch, and Tony took the opportunity to dig back into his own. He was desperately trying not to point out all of the insane things that had been let through the gate — and in just the first two and a bit years, no less! — and make it sound like his soulmate's team were negligent in any way, but for fuck's sake! The number of foothold incidents in this Mountain (they were keeping a tally on their bullpen whiteboard) was truly horrifying!

Finally, Daniel seemed to come to a conclusion. "I think the short answer is that back when we started, we didn't even know if we'd reach any viable addresses, so something like a beta site didn't even cross anyone's mind. Well, maybe Jack's or General Hammond's, but certainly not mine. Since then it's kind of been like we're lurching from one thing to the next, and 'this is how it's always been' has been a good enough motto."

"So as far as you know, there's no super important reason that I just don't know about?" Tony pressed. "I wouldn't be making an idiot of myself if I brought this up to Jack?"

"Not at all," Daniel promised. "Were you thinking of doing it at the check in call this evening?"

Tony nodded. "I figured since he actually dealt with the fallout of the incident at NCIS, Deputy Director Morrow might have some ideas to implement a solution.

"He probably would," Daniel agreed. Before he could say anything else, the alarm on Tony's phone went off. Tony gave it a chagrined look, then quickly scooped up the last bite of his cottage pie. "I'll see you at the meeting?" Daniel asked, gathering up the detritus from his own lunch.

"Definitely," Tony agreed. Picking up his tray, he ducked down and gave Daniel a quick kiss before leaving to head back to his own office. He'd take a few moments to jot down his thoughts — maybe copy the tally list from the whiteboard — and be prepared to bring up the idea at tonight's briefing.

Tom gritted his teeth as he strode down the hall to his former office. He had been pleased with the move to Homeland, and even more so once he realized how important the work he would be doing for Homeworld was. He'd thought he was leaving NCIS in good hands; Jenny Shepard hadn't been his first choice, and he'd been overruled by SecNav Davenport, but she was far from the worst option. Now, Tom had to wonder exactly why the man had been so adamant about her hiring, because she seemed unusually focused on Tony and his crew, and not on the actual requirements of her job.

Once they were able to get Jack in place in Washington, Tom intended to do a bit more digging into the new SecNav. Since he'd only started a few weeks before the plague attack on NCIS, which had seen Tom extremely busy dealing with the fallout, Tom hadn't gotten to know the new man as well as he would like before leaving his jurisdiction for Homeland.

And now— Tom froze, just shy of the door. What the hell was Haswari's sister doing here, sitting at Todd's former desk? Tom recognized her, of course. He'd been the one to coordinate with her regarding the dispensation of her half-brother's body after his death. What the hell was she doing on one of their computers, chatting with Agent McGee with the ease of familiarity?

It looked like Tom had several things to discuss with Jenny.

When he entered the outer office, Tom was shocked to find a young man sitting at Cynthia's desk who couldn't have been older than 18. He was clearly a temp, overwhelmed, and in no way cleared to handle any of the sensitive paperwork that passed through the Director's office on a daily basis. Tom wondered if this was a subtle form of protest, with Shepard refusing to hire a qualified candidate under the assumption she would soon be able to get Cynthia back into the role.

Tom didn't even have to make a fuss; he simply strode into the office as though he belonged there, and the young man's protest died out before it could be fully voiced. Tom imagined that Gibbs trampled all over the man without even trying.

"Hello Jenny," Tom said, startling her badly enough that she almost dropped the tea she had been holding.

"Tom?" Shepard sounded genuinely surprised, as though she didn't expect him to have followed up with her. Or perhaps she just hadn't expected him to show up in person. If so, she had no idea what kind of loyalty he owed to his people, a state that didn't bode well for her relationship with her own people at NCIS.

"Christian didn't tell me you were here," Shepard said, trying valiantly to recover some of her composure. She straightened up behind her desk, and Tom knew it was a bit of a power play, but he refused to be intimidated as he took one of the chairs in front of it.

"I didn't give him a chance," Tom admitted easily. "You need someone in that role who can stop people from simply walking into your office like they own the place," he added with a smirk.

"I didn't have a lot of choice in that matter," Shepard said frostily.

"Of course you did," Tom replied without a hint of guilt. "There are plenty of secretaries assigned to the Assistant Directors and Department Heads here in the office who at least have experience. You could have easily promoted one of them to your side and slotted in a qualified new hire at the bottom of the chain. Or you could have at least borrowed them on a temporary basis while you looked for a qualified outside hire. There's no excuse for having that child who can't possibly have clearance to read your files sitting out there just waiting for Gibbs to maul him."

"That's none of your concern," Shepard snapped. "This isn't your agency anymore."

"No, but that doesn't mean that regulations or rules have changed in the few weeks I've been gone," Tom shot back evenly. "Nor does it mean I've stopped caring about the service members who NCIS owes their duty to. A duty that could be compromised by having a teenager without clearance as your secretary."

Shepard took a sip of her tea, clearly reigning in her temper. Good; Tom knew from experience that she was far more likely to give something away if she was upset — it had been a consistent note in her NCIS jacket for decades — and was going to do his best to rile her up today.

"Did you have a reason for barging past Christian this morning?" Shepard asked with false politeness.

"As it happens, I did," Tom said. "Your people who are working on my base have all gotten strange emails from one of your offices referencing non-existent court dates, meetings with you that they were unaware of, and future assignments and transfers that obviously conflict with their current duty stations."

"I have a right to assign my people where I see fit," Shepard replied coolly. "They are my people now, after all, not yours."

Tom suppressed the urge to snort at her lack of subtlety. "And you agreed to their placement when we spoke about this a few weeks ago, Jenny. It isn't like you didn't know they were being assigned somewhere. You could have objected at any time."

"I did object," Shepard snapped, then obviously reigned herself in. "There is no reason that I should be kept in the dark about the distribution of my people. Quite frankly, if their clearance is high enough to be sent there, then mine is high enough to know where they are. I expressed all of these concerns when you first came to me, but I was overruled."

"That happens sometimes." Tom refrained from pointing out that she only had this job because he'd been overruled himself. "And I know it was made clear to you that your appointment here is still probationary. Until those six months are up, no you do not have high enough clearance to get more information on my base. Did you really think you could undermine whoever overruled you by requesting a meeting with a simple agent under false pretenses? That you could get them to betray their oaths and NDAs and tell you everything?"

"There were no false pretenses," Shepard insisted, ignoring his other accusation.

"Oh? Stan Burley lied when he said he had no upcoming court dates, as his letter stated? Paula Cassidy lied about not having any outstanding paperwork that needed discussing?"

Tom could easily see the dismissal in her eyes; neither of them was the agent she was targeting. He was fairly certain it was an agent, not any of the support staff. With the possible exception of Miss Scuito or Cynthia, they weren't the kind of person than Shepard would have noticed or cared enough about to stage this elaborate intervention for.

"It's possible there was a misunderstanding made by the person sending out the emails," she acknowledged, "and that Agent Burley was confused for a different agent with an upcoming court date."

"And Cassidy? Yates? Dorneget? Hanna?" Tom went through the list, noting Shepard's hidden disinterest in each one. "Are you telling me that every single email was a misunderstanding?"

"Without seeing the emails themselves or the agents' files, I can't tell you," Shepard said with a careless shrug. "I'll need to investigate your complaint and see where the miscommunication happened."

"You go ahead and do that," Tom agreed, planning his next move. "In the meantime, I'll tell my people to ignore these emails until the misunderstanding can be cleared up. Since there's clearly no reason for them to return."

Shepard's jaw clenched; there was still someone she wanted, and Tom was fairly certain he knew who, now. After all, there was really only one viable candidate left. "It might help to clear up the misunderstanding faster if they came in anyway," she said.

"I'm not yanking people away from their jobs to deal with a misunderstanding that we both know is anything but," Tom said bluntly. "Unless you want to tell me which agent you're actually trying to steal back under this pretense. I can't imagine that any of the ship captains complained, since they tend to be of the view that one Agent Afloat is as good as another. So it can't be about one of them."

"It can't be an issue of Gibbs-wrangling, since you seem to have that well in hand, so it wouldn't be DiNozzo," Shepard flushed slightly, and Tom knew he had hit the nail on the head, as he suspected. It probably wasn't about Gibbs, but it was definitely something about DiNozzo. He was willing to wager that Shepard had finally gotten around to reading Tony's file and realized what a good agent had slipped through her fingers.

"Actually, I'm finding Gibbs a harder nut to crack than I thought," she admitted, affecting a demure look totally at odds with the heat in her voice. If Shepard thought Tom was going to fall for her damsel in distress vs big bad Gibbs routine, she wasn't nearly smart enough to run this agency.

"Odd," Tom couldn't resist poking at her a bit, curious if he could get her to drop the facade covering her anger and frustration, "When SecNav Davenport was explaining why you were taking the post instead of Owen Granger, he made a point of the fact that your ability to wrangle Gibbs was part of why you got the position."

That clearly pissed Shepard off even more; likely she had traded on that relationship with SecNav, but didn't want others to know. "I'm afraid that wrangling him as his field partner isn't the same as wrangling him as his boss."

"Oh, you've forced him to accept the sister of his own white whale on his team, sitting at Todd's desk, no less," Tom said dryly. "I think you're managing Gibbs just fine."

"Ziva— Officer David is here as a liaison to Mossad," Shepard said easily, as though she had given this disclaimer several times. "She is eager to learn from Gibbs, and he has so far been willing to teach her. She is not responsible for the actions of her estranged half brother."

Tom knew they were far closer than Shepard was implying, but he chose to drop it for now. He'd definitely be going over her head about it later, however. "Again, it sounds like you're handling him just fine, then," Tom said. "If you're not ready to tell me which agent exactly you want, then we have no further business today."

Shepard looked at him sourly, but didn't reply. "Very well. But if the barrage of false emails doesn't stop, rest assured I will go over your head, Jenny."

With that, Tom got up and strode back out of the office. Shepard didn't attempt to stop him, and the door was barely closed before he heard her frustrated shout; clearly she didn't realize how well sound carried out of her new office. And her inexperienced secretary wouldn't have the guts or savvy to know that he should warn her.

Tom had an SGSI meeting tonight, and he'd be sure to get Tony to hang back and see if he had any idea what Shepard might want with him. Then Tom was going to see if George would go with him to rattle SecNav's cage tomorrow, before determining if they needed to go over his head to the president. Tom wasn't going to risk letting someone like Jennifer Shepard compromise the Stargate Program, or his burgeoning investigative division!

Chapter Text

Zoe Perez sighed as she sank down into her bed. She'd been one of the first to get a place, since she'd decided to rent instead of buy, and she didn't regret that decision as she was able to come home and immediately relax.

It wasn't that the job was strenuous — yet — but simply mentally and emotionally draining. Reading reports from eight years ago, lacking in the most basic of details, and with often shoddy results, was infuriating. Between that and the low level anxiety from knowing how close the Earth had come to being destroyed on a regular basis? Well let's just say that she was glad she was here to finally investigate crimes properly so that the Stargate teams could stop doing her job and go back to doing what they did best.

Those thoughts inevitably led her to Agent DiNozzo — call me Tony — and the rest of the NCIS crew. Zoe had some friends who worked at Anacostia-Bolling, and she had made discrete inquiries with them after the initial NDA signing and briefing. Those that had worked with Tony and Gibbs's team had all been impressed with the former, and the less said about the latter, the better. But all agreed that Tony was a rockstar and well able to handle even the toughest personalities.

Zoe wasn't sure how she felt about him progressing from a second in command to heading their entire program, but so far she hadn't seen any red flags in their first few weeks working together. And she and Major Michaelson had both worked solo, so it wasn't like either of them had direct experience leading a team.

Still, Tony was competent and detail-oriented, which Zoe appreciated. They might be forming this unit from the ground up, but they hadn't yet encountered a situation that Tony and Director Morrow hadn't anticipated and were working on. By the time she arrived for her first day, the bare bones of the unit were in place, and Zoe found herself enjoying the assembling of it.

Of course, one of the biggest stumbling blocks was the integration of their different processes. Part of Zoe had expected Tony to simply hand them NCIS issued paperwork and insist that they learn to fill it out. That had certainly been the attitude expressed when she had worked joint operations with other branches of the Alphabet Soup in the past! True, their ranks were shaking out to be about a third NCIS, a third OSI, and a third FBI and other, — which made sense, since their constituents on the base were distributed in almost the same numerical breakdown of Air Force, Marines, and civilians — but with both Tony and Morrow coming from NCIS, she'd expected an element of bias.

She hadn't expected to be given "homework" the first week when Tony handed out a packet containing the incident report paperwork for every branch in the service and a handful of federal agencies. Then he blithely told them to go through and pick what worked the best from each one. Part of Zoe had been tempted to simply approve the OSI template wholesale, but there had been enough small things that frustrated her about it over the years to resist.

By the end of their second week, Tony had compiled those notes — from everyone already in the SGSI, apparently — into a single report base. Since they were all technically seconded from their home agencies at the moment, it meant that they would need to fill out the SGSI version while on the case, and then copy the relevant sections to their own paperwork to submit up the chain when it was done.

Zoe could see the writing on the wall: both Tony and Morrow were thinking big picture, and she didn't think it would be long until the SGSI was it's own agency, hiring all of them away from their current placements. It made sense, in the long run. The Stargate Program was so self-contained, it needed a self-contained investigative agency as well. They would probably — if they were as smart as they appeared so far — stagger the hiring so that there wasn't a massive transfer all at once, and simply allow each person to slip further down the rabbit hole.

She couldn't say she minded the idea. Zoe loved the Air Force, and was proud to serve, but she had joined OSI because of her need to know all the little details. Finding out about an entirely secret program with so much more to explore was like letting a kid into a candy shop. And it wasn't like she had anyone waiting on the outside for her.

Zoe had heard the rumors — and frankly witnessed for herself — that Tony had found his soulmate in the program. So she'd been relieved that he seemed to be a great investigator, and so far a competent leader, rather than just getting the job through his soulmate connection. But it wasn't just him. Other pairings were apparently popping up left and right, including the name of a friend that Zoe herself had found in a case file. It was a badly hidden secret — that is to say no secret at all — that many of the people agreeing to join their team were doing so because it gave them access to a hidden world of people who might be their soulmate.

But it was different for Zoe. She'd met Diego at the Academy, and they'd bonded over sharing the same last name and thus being assigned next to each other for everything. Diego had had the figures memorized: something like .1% of Soulmates across the world shared a last name without being directly related. It varied from country to country, coming in closer to .008% odds in the US, and they'd been among that lucky number.

It had been love at first sight, as soulmates tended to be. They'd done everything together — and not just because they were Cadets in the same class — and bonded as soon as they were able. Diego's best friend had joked that they should hyphenate their last names, like some couples did, and become Perez-Perez. Diego had been all for it, but Zoe had shut the idea down. She could just imagine the way their instructors would hound them for that kind of joke.

Part of Zoe still wished that Diego was here with her to slip down the Stargate rabbit hole. But on the other hand, if he hadn't been killed in action, if she hadn't been thoroughly frustrated by a vague report, if she hadn't gone into OSI to investigate — to know — then Zoe wouldn't be here herself.

She'd learned, through some discrete digging, that their forensic tech, Miss Scuito, was a bond widow herself, and Zoe thought they might one day find a common ground in that. But for now, they both had to sit and watch as the rest of their division ran around finding their soulmates left, right, and center.

Some days it was a little heartbreaking. But Zoe couldn't deny them the chance to have with each other what she'd had for seven wonderful years with Diego, so mostly she tried to feel happy for them. And not to resent the madhouse of prior sub-par so-called "investigations" that Colonel Kendrick had tossed her into!

Richard Kendrick sighed in relief as he stamped his approval on the new SGSI paperwork that had been collated by their team. It included everything that he needed to fill out an OSI report, so on the off chance that Perez, Michaelson, and the others didn't have time to complete the second version, he could do it himself. Privately, General Bullard had confessed that he was fine receiving just his people's unredacted SGSI reports, and that it might be easier for Richard to fill out the OSI reports himself, pre-redacting the 90% of the information that couldn't be included anyway.

It made a certain kind of sense, and Richard decided, in the name of efficiency, to prepare a version of their OSI reports, for the General's approval, with certain sections already blacked out. Then, no matter who filled it in, they wouldn't waste their time on details that were never going to leave the SGSI reports.

At least, from all the news he heard, the recruits to his new command were thriving. He'd hated every moment he spent in Stargate Command, with their slipshod way of handling investigations, and their arrogance in dealing with such things themselves for years! As though a linguistics degree or a black ops background somehow made one qualified to investigate crime or represent a defendant! Richard shuddered.

No, Cheyenne Mountain had been one FUBAR situation or foothold away from a total meltdown, and he was glad to be rid of it. He didn't even envy Major Montgomery at McMurdo, which he had just returned from. The man had clearly realized at least part of what was going on because the damn SGC couldn't be discrete if their lives and the safety of the planet depended on it! At least he'd been willing to be read in on the secret, and to stick around after the fact, so that was one less potential leak for Richard to plug.

And at least now he could stay safely in Denver and simply review and redact their files as needed. It would be a relief to get the proper information — in the proper format and a timely manner — from professionals, who knew what they were doing, instead of the sorry excuse for files he'd been given before evaluating Teal'c. He knew they were just as impressed with him as he was with them, but that didn't bother him. Quite frankly, Richard didn't care what O'Neill thought of him, because he couldn't be paid enough to rotate to a posting inside the SGC!

Quite frankly, he was impressed by Director Morrow and SAC Dinozzo. They had stepped in, easily understood the problem, and had a way of explaining it to the SGC brass that made them actually understand and agree. Richard would be the first to agree that he hadn't handled them well, but it had been blatantly obvious that he had been brought in to be a yes man, to rubber stamp the situation without actually investigating anything, and that was not the kind of man he was. If they wanted someone who wouldn't actually do his job, then they should have told General Bullard that from the start, and they would have gotten what they wanted, instead of dragging Richard into their mess!

Angela Montenegro glanced over at Cam and found her looking cool as a cucumber, which was frustrating, because Angela's stomach was churning. She'd always believed that the universe had a plan, and that it would introduce her to Sam when the time was right. So whether she was traveling with her dad's band, taking trips of her own around the world, or working in Washington DC, Angela kept an open mind, but never went out specifically looking for Sam. She didn't even know if Sam was a man or a woman, since there had never been a Samuel or Samantha on her wrist, but Angela didn't mind. It was part of the magic of the discovery, once the time came. She knew her own name was pretty unusual in all its variations, so Sam should have no problem tracking her down instead, if they felt the urge.

Booth had offered once, when they were sitting around waiting for the others to come up with a clue, feeling extra superfluous. But Angela hadn't wanted to circumvent fate in that way. If the universe wanted her to wait another year, or five years, or thirty years, then Angela was going to let it be. She wasn't going to remain celibate, of course, or deny herself a fling with someone else while the chance was there, but Angela figured the universe would let her know when and where it wanted her to be.

And it turned out the when and where was on this plane, now, with Cam beside her, going down whatever deep dark hole Hodgins had disappeared into.

Angela understood classified enough to know that if Booth had trouble finding anything, there was no way Hodgins's new job could be found. Though she would miss seeing her friend every day, she figured that was what the Universe had in store for him. So when Hodgins called her out of the blue and said she needed to take the job offer she was about to get, Angela was a little skeptical. Still, she couldn't deny that fate was definitely telling her it expected her to be somewhere.

Angela had no idea what a secret government project could want with her — even after signing the NDA! — and especially since they had explained that she was essentially married — she had no idea that had been real — and asked if she wanted them to arrange an annulment. It sounded like she was being hired just at Sam's whim — Angela wasn't sure how much pull a Lieutenant Colonel had, but it seemed like a lot — but Hodgins had swore that the job offer was real.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder.

Brennan had told her to go for it, which was shocking in and of itself. Both Brennan and Zach had issues with the whole "soulmate" thing — always in quotation marks, with those two — and the metaphysical aspect of it, so for Brennan of all people to tell Angela to follow her heart, even if it meant losing another person from the team? And especially while Brennan was struggling with her own reaction to finding Booth was her soulmate, and his attempts to jump all in into a relationship while she held him off until they actually got to know each other? In the midst of all that, for Brennan to tell Angela to follow her heart — repeating some very good advice that Angela herself had given the other woman — and take the job?

Well maybe the universe was doubling down to ensure Angela would actually follow this path, instead of allowing her worry for Brennan to convince her to stay.

It was especially strange since Cam, who had only worked at the Jeffersonian for a week, had also gotten a call from her cousin and been told basically the same thing: accept this job offer to meet your soulmate.

It was strange, wasn't it? But also exciting. Like trying LSD. (Booth may have been onto something when he expressed his surprise that Angela had even passed the background check portion of this job interview, but Angela saw it as one more sign that Sam was pulling some strings.)

Angela didn't know Cam very well, though it looked like they were going to be working in the same place — on aliens! — and with Hodgins as well. Almost like the gang was getting back together. Well, without Brennan and Zach. And Cam and Hodgins had never actually met since she came after he vanished down this rabbit hole.

Okay, maybe it was nothing like getting the gang back together, but Angela knew two people on this mysterious base where Sam was stationed, and she was going to take advantage of that!

She may be worried about Brennan and Booth, and she may be concerned that Zach wouldn't do well with all of these new changes while still getting over the loss of his best friend, and she may still have her doubts about what exactly she was bringing to the table with this job, but she was also thrilled to have a chance to finally meet Sam, and excited to learn more about aliens and what Hodgins had discovered since coming here. She was going to follow her heart, and trust the universe. It was all she could do.

Sam Hanna left Stan to agonize over the email he was composing for his soulmate and slipped into his bunk. It was too early to call Michelle, thanks to the screwy time zones in Antarctica. Despite technically falling into every one of the 24 zones, in practice the continent was divided into nine large chunks based on who claimed the territory. Even that made little sense, however, since the American territory was running on UTC +12 instead of UTC -8 like LA. (There were logical reasons for it, of course, but not ones that mattered to Sam.) With his late afternoon translating to his kids' bedtime, Sam was doing a bit of juggling to be able to call them every night; fortunately Stan didn't mind taking an early dinner break.

Now that Stan had found his soulmate hidden in the Program, Sam was fairly certain that the SGSI had just gotten a lifer out of him. Which, more power to him (and to Tony, if the scuttlebutt was correct that Stan had heard from Paula, which she'd apparently heard from Yates). Sam wouldn't give up his own soulmate for the job, so he could just imagine getting to have them together. But it was different for Sam. Even when Director Morrow had approached him about the position, Sam had been hesitant. He didn't like being out of contact with his family for so long, and it affected Michelle's work too, since she needed to stay at home with the kids instead of traveling.

Still, Sam had been swayed by the assurance that they needed him, and the promise of a one year contract. Michelle had agreed, and now here he was, in Antarctica, on an alien research base. To say that Sam's inner childhood geek was thrilled was an understatement, but he was still cautious.

The Stargate program in general, and the SGSI in particular, had a draw that was hard to resist: who wouldn't want to be the agent afloat for an actual spaceship? Or live in the real lost city of Atlantis? But Sam couldn't afford to be ensnared. If they had a place for Michelle, then maybe, but as it stood, he was putting in his year and then getting out.

And Sam understood why he had been recruited. He had the experience of both a SEAL and an Agent; he would have suggestions for the battlecruiser positions that others might not think of, having served on them both as a crewmember and as an agent afloat. The upcoming Atlantis expansion consisted of two teams of SEALs, and Sam was uniquely qualified to gauge their situation there. It made sense, and it was a great honor to be considered trustworthy enough to handle the secret of aliens. (Sam suspected, and couldn't disprove, that his ability to keep his soulmate's profession a secret was part of their consideration.)

But he was too old and settled in his life to go haring off on a spaceship for weeks at a time, even if he could be beamed back home after a tour instead of needing to catch a transport plane. If he was able to take a posting in Nevada or Colorado, and if Michelle could transfer to that area as well, then Sam might think of staying on beyond his year. But if not, this was just a fun diversion for a few months before he was headed back to OSP.

Diana Berrigan glanced around her apartment one last time, making sure that everything she needed was packed away in her luggage. She was still on the fence about taking this job, but Deputy Director Morrow had convinced her, for the time being. The initial contract was only for a year, after all, and Peter had promised to take her back when her year was up, if she wanted.

She honestly thought that Morrow was a little surprised that Diana hadn't jumped at the opportunity once they revealed that her soulmate was in the same command — though a different location than her initial posting.

The truth was, Diana had always been a bit ambivalent about the whole soulmate thing — moreover the whole relationship thing in general. Added to that was the fact that she was the daughter of a diplomat, and Diana was very familiar with the life of a Diplomat's spouse.

By the time she was in college, Diana had heard enough scuttlebutt to know that there was a Dr. Elizabeth Weir working as a diplomat, and impressing a lot of people in the process. Her parents had even met the woman, though Diana wasn't positive either of them even knew what name was on her own wrist at that point.

Dr. Weir — if it was the right one — certainly would recognize their name, and could have made her move then, asking if there was a Diana in their family. She clearly hadn't. So though it seemed exactly like the kind of fateful meet cute you saw in movies — seeing each other at a diplomatic function and realizing they were soulmates — Diana didn't seek out Dr. Weir, and wasn't sought out in turn.

Which was fine.

Diana didn't want to be reduced to the role of Diplomat's wife. Or, at best, spare bodyguard with benefits. She didn't want to become her parents, making inane small talk with people she couldn't stand, but had to pretend to respect. She didn't want to be an accessory who spent her time refurnishing the diplomatic residence until she was trotted out for a State dinner or gladhanding event.

She had bigger dreams than that.

That's why Diana had gotten her own degrees — languages had always come easy to her, and her criminal justice mastery had been fascinating — and accepted a position in the FBI. Some people were surprised that she didn't head for the State Department, but that wasn't Diana's dream.

Peter understood that. He understood wanting to do your own thing, and he didn't look down on Diana for her privileged childhood, or overly leverage her knowledge or connections. Just because she could cause an international incident on his behalf didn't mean that she ever wanted to, and Peter respected that.

So to be personally recommended for an amazing and vital job with truly staggering pay and the promise of utilizing her talents — not her connections, — Diana was intrigued. But the "cherry on top" of working with Elizabeth Weir… well that she could take or leave. Though it did fill in a few puzzle pieces, since Dr. Weir had practically disappeared a year ago, and no one in diplomatic circles had any idea where she had gone, least of all her former boyfriend.

Not that Diana was keeping track, or anything.

So yes, Diana was headed to Washington DC to sign the giant NDA and finally learn what this oh so important job was, but she wasn't packing up her entire apartment just yet. She might be back in the office on Peter's team in a year after all.

Diana smirked; it would be nice not to be the probie anymore, but part of her would miss seeing what Peter made of Caffrey now that he'd caught him. She had a feeling she would really enjoy seeing them attempting to work together.

Evan Lorne sighed in relief as he sank down onto his bunk. He'd spent the day going over crates and crates of supplies, double checking everything that they were scheduled to bring to Atlantis.

They'd thought they were prepared, when they were just sending out an exploratory team to see if the Expedition had even survived. But ever since the databurst had arrived, including detailed lists of their supplies and losses, Evan's team had been scrambling like mad.

They were doing their best to bring all of the food, weapons, and ammo possible; prioritizing their readiness for the upcoming battle. They'd even doubled their stockpile of nukes, though Evan had no idea who thought they'd need that many! As such, a lot of scientific equipment and sundries that had been on the first cargo list had been removed, saved for the Daedalus's second run. Evan's command had also restructured, gaining more fighters while many of the scientists were also pushed back to the second trip.

Honestly, if they'd had a second ZPM to power the Prometheus, Evan believed it might have been filled with more weapons and ammo and sent out alongside them! Not that he would have objected; Atlantis needed their help, and they were all just praying that they got there in time. With the ZPM bringing their travel time down from three weeks to just under one, hopes were high that they'd make it in time.

But it did mean a lot of unpacking, repacking, and double checking for Lorne and his people. Today they'd found an entire crate of kitchen utensils marked as 9 mm ammo: definitely useful, but not for the battle they were predicting.

Evan spent so much time going over list after list that he barely had time to check his emails for anything that wasn't marked "URGENT!!!!!" (The number of exclamation points that supply was using had seemed to grow every day — per Cadman's books she was predicting they'd see over twenty before they finally launched.)

He was just about to close his email and get some shut-eye when Even saw a new email pop up: one from a name he had never expected to see in the Stargate Program.

From: [email protected]
Subject: Connecting

Hand shaking, Evan opened the email.

Hello Evan,

I've been assured that you're my Evan, and not just someone with the same name, but to reassure you too, here's a picture of my wrist.

Evan scrolled to the bottom and clicked the small photo attachment, revealing a tanned wrist with his own series of signatures on it. This was real! He quickly scrolled back up and continued reading.

I was recently recruited to join the new investigative division of our mutual employer. I understand that you're shipping out in two weeks on the rescue mission, but I'll be inspecting your duty station before then. I was hoping that we could connect at that time, before you leave.

I know that ultimately you're going to be stationed at our most distant base, but my boss has indicated that I could be too. If things go well at our upcoming meeting, we could be assigned to the same duty station together.

If this is something that interests you, please let me know.

~Stan

Evan stared at his computer for a few minutes, his mind spinning. Clearly Stan was talking about the Daedalus; he was going to be inspecting it before they took off. Evan wasn't sure why, exactly, but he found he didn't care. The second half seemed to imply that Stan could get himself posted to Atlantis as well, and they could serve there together!

Taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, Evan quickly hit the "reply" button. His exhaustion had vanished, and now all he could think about was arranging a proper meeting with his soulmate before they launched. Somehow, despite the secrecy of the Stargate Program — Evan had lamented it, but he hadn't been able to turn down the chance to protect their planet, once he learned what was really at stake out there — Stan had found him. And if Evan didn't scare him off when they met, they might even get to live together in Atlantis! Assuming they could protect it from the Wraith and the upcoming battle.

Maybe Evan could sweet talk Supply into giving them a few more nukes, just in case. He'd figure out somewhere to store them for the journey.

Chapter Text

Tony sighed as his alarm blared, disturbing the quiet music that was helping him concentrate. Turning it off, he quickly grabbed his notes and his legal pad and left his office. He ran into Cynthia, emerging from her own office, and together they crossed the hall to the boardroom. Harm and Mac were already there, having taken up residence in one corner for the last few days while they checked in with their team in the mountain. They'd been originally scheduled to arrive over a week ago, but had been unavoidably delayed. Tony had been somewhat expecting that: everything had been going a little too smoothly for the last week. After rolling in at oh dark 30, they'd slept most of a day, worked half the night, and then spent a day meeting with his new legal team. Now Tony was finally going to get a sitrep from them and hopefully some answers.

One of Cynthia's new minions, Kristy Duncan, slipped into the room after them, completing the group. The Duncans were a new and welcome addition, and they, Tony, and Cynthia were still working out the finer nuances of who would handle what administrative work. With Cynthia taking on some of Tony's SAC responsibilities so that he could still run their Alpha Team, some of her duties were trickling down to her staff. Today, for example, Kristy and Cynthia would both be responsible for taking down the meeting's minutes: Kristy for documentation and Cynthia for making the "to do" and "follow up" lists. Tony saw no need to micromanage how Cynthia and her staff divvied things up, as long as everything got done and he wasn't stuck in his office all day doing administrative work instead of investigating.

Everyone got through their greetings quickly, and then got down to it. "So," Tony said, smirking at Harm and Mac, "how's it going?"

Harm grinned. "Still processing the whole alien thing; how about you?"

Tony chuckled as Mac nudged her partner. "I assume you want to know about the program, not Harm's personal crisis?"

"Well I'd be happy to console him about the latter over a beer later, but for now we should probably stick to business," Tony joked.

Harm's grin didn't fade at all as Mac grabbed her notes from one of the stacks surrounding their corner of the table. "As you know, all four of your main lawyers have arrived here at Cheyenne: Greene from the Air Force's JAG, Turner and Pike from us, and Lee from NCIS. Other than their own small existential crises, they're settling in well and everyone's equally dissatisfied with the usual things like the size of their office, etc."

"As long as they're all equally miserable with these lovely drab gray walls," Tony deadpanned. "Though personally I'm enjoying the break from all the orange…"

Cynthia snorted before she could cover it, and Harm and Mac both chuckled, well familiar with the paint job at the Navy Yard.

"We've also got all four of their support staff accounted for," Mac continued a moment later. "Greene is in charge, and has Struthers, Kelley, and Harper in hand. They've got their bullpen set up the way they want it, and are currently slogging through old records, just like everyone else."

"Anything jump out at first glance?"

Harm shook his head, looking serious. "Not yet, though there are one or two borderline questionable calls."

Tony let out a small sigh of relief. He kept his fingers crossed every day that they didn't encounter a real miscarriage of justice, or seriously flawed investigating that could have hurt innocent people. While he didn't want to think the worst of the SGC as a whole, or Jack or Hammond in particular, that was the risk of using untrained people to do an investigator's job, and then getting people to take deals, or simply dropping them into metaphorical black holes, rather than involve JAG.

"And the rest of the team?"

"Greene feels confident that, once they're through the initial deluge, her team will have no trouble keeping up with the needs of the department, including Bromstead and the two treaty lawyers we have coming," Mac said. "That may change if you start arresting people every other day, but even at about double the rate of previous cases, she thinks they'll be alright."

"Good." Tony had worried about shorting them of staff, especially once they expanded their estimates for how many lawyers they would actually have on hand. There was an empty boardroom left in his domain, as well as several unclaimed offices on the next floor, so Tony could potentially expand that group if needed. Speaking of expansion… "About those treaty lawyers?"

"We're looking at getting you two," Harm said easily. "But it's taking a little time because apparently a person with that kind of skill set at the level we need, without any red flags in their past, is harder to come by than you'd think. And then you have to convince them to join a top secret project they can't know anything about or talk about to their loved ones."

Tony nodded along; he wasn't unaware of what a big ask the Stargate program was, and if he hadn't had the promise of Daniel waiting for him behind that pile of NDAs, he might have balked too. He knew that some of the others, like Abby, were only here because they had trusted Tony's recommendation of the program, and he was sure some of their other hires were like him, accepting the unknown and dubious position just because of who exactly was waiting for them on the other side.

Harm continued, "If we get the lawyers that Admiral Chegwidden and General Morrison want, there'll be one from the Air Force JAG and one civilian. Everyone agreed that you wouldn't need that specific specialty at Area 51, but we're prepared to get a third for the Mountain if the demand is higher than we realize."

"Sounds good," Tony flipped through his notes to find his map sketches. "Will they be alright in those two offices next to Bromstead?"

"Yeah, we thought you'd want to put them there, so we already checked them out. If the whole team wants to get together for something, they can just use this boardroom."

Tony nodded; that fit with that he had figured. "What about you two? Do I need to clear up some permanent space for you?"

"Not at the moment," Mac shook her head. "We aren't staying anywhere long term, and we aren't doing anything that requires independent long term storage. You have a space like this that we already used at Area 51, and it looks like we'll only be seeing you for a week every month or so."

"That said, if we're taking up your space in here and you want it back, we wouldn't say no to offices," Harm added.

"Yeah," Tony turned to Cynthia. "Let's see if we can commandeer a few of the offices by the elevator; either down here or up by the interview rooms. It might be a good idea to have 2 or 3 with the basics set aside in general for whenever we have visitors. I'm sure Kendrick and Matthews will each swing by at some point, and Tom Morrow, too. We might even get JAG or some other muckety-muck coming in to check on our little operation. It would be a good idea if we could plunk them into a visiting dignitary office right off the bat instead of shoving a General in a corner." That got snorts and chuckles from around the table.

"Do you think four offices would be enough?" Cynthia asked, consulting her own notes.

"I'd hope so," Tony said fervently. He really didn't want to face a situation that saw more than four higher ups called down on his people.

"According to your original notes, the offices on either side of the elevator on this floor are empty," she said. "We could get them all outfitted with the basics; and perhaps 36A and B could be fancied up a bit for higher ranked visitors."

Tony flipped through his own maps. "Good call. We'll make 7A and B normal offices, like ours, and then gussie up the other two for when the Brass comes. We'll block out the former on the calendar for Mac and Harm when they swing through, while keeping them potentially open for other visitors the rest of the time. Should we have something similar at Area 51?"

"Probably. You're going to be a visiting dignitary there yourself," Mac pointed out.

Tony mock scowled at her. "Ugh. You're right. And all of my department heads are based here at the Mountain, so they should probably go check in with their minions in person on a somewhat regular basis. I think we actually need more space over there for visitors…" he flipped to the appropriate page of blueprints that Paul had given him back at the beginning. "Perhaps the two offices around the corner from the support staff bullpen could be the fancy ones, and then we could use the two one-person offices and spare lab-sized space down the hall from legal? I'm sure we could fit 2 or 3 desks into that lab, depending on the arrangement."

"That won't infringe on your plans for expansion?" Cynthia asked, looking at her own map.

"No, because I always intended to put the Team Delta bullpen into the room next to Team Charlie, around the corner from their boardroom," Tony explained. "We weren't expanded into that other corridor at all until we stuck JAG there."

"Oh yes, I see," she quickly agreed. "That makes sense, then."

"Great, you two can use either the individual offices or the larger joint one when you're there," Tony told Mac and Harm. He knew that some soulmates preferred to share a working space, while some preferred to keep their offices separate.

The duo nodded. "Sounds good," Harm agreed.

"Speaking of Area 51," Mac said, going back to her notes. "You've got Aldridge, Manetti, and Mayfield onboard from JAG, and Richards and the McNamaras there for support. Greene has coordinated with Gunny McNamara and Dr. Miller, and they've got weekly meetings scheduled to make sure they're all on the same page."

"Excellent. I know we said Nevada didn't need treaty lawyers, but patents?"

"Bromstead has already suggested that you might need a second patent lawyer stationed there, but for now she can handle things," Mac said. "She also said she might go down and check things out for herself, and there's some records she wants ferried over. She isn't sure yet whether she wants to wait and go pick them up in person, or have them ferried over in advance."

"Well we'll have brand new temporary offices ready by the time she gets there," Tony decided. "She has my approval to visit whenever she needs, or to arrange for a shipment… however that works?" he glanced at Cynthia.

"I'm sure there's a form for transporting things back and forth between the two bases," Cynthia said. "I'll find out and add it to our stock. As for the visit… we might need to make our own?"

"You make it; I'll sign it," Tony agreed, then turned back to his JAG duo. "I know plants for Atlantis are still tentative, but what have you come up with since we last talked?"

"Bare minimum we'll need two lawyers: one to act as defense and one as prosecution for any case that arises. They'll also definitely be in need of their own treaty lawyers, so we were thinking we'd start with two of those," Harm explained. "Depending on how big of an expansion we end up with, that could increase, but just from looking at the summary of their first year, and the current expansion plans, that should be enough."

"We're thinking of giving them two or three legal support staff," Mac added, "They won't have the backlog of work to go through like we have here and in Nevada, so they might only need two. But they'll also be cut off from backup, and potentially need to work in shifts to cover all their needs, which would make three a better choice."

Tony considered that. "Let's err on the side of three for now, and if they report that they're utterly bored, we can ship one back here. I'd rather they be fully staffed and need to find a little busy work to make up for it, than to have them desperately need help that could take a month or two to arrive, given the Daedalus's projected schedule."

"Right," Mac sighed, "I forgot about the month-long commute."

Tony shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I may be hyper aware of exactly how far away Daniel will be from Earth at any given moment," he joked, making the others chuckle. Then he cleared his throat. "Speaking of the Daedalus, McMurdo?"

"Admiral Chegwidden and General Morrison agree with your idea to use McMurdo Station and the Antarctic Outpost as the home base and training ground for the afloat positions," Harm said.

"As such, we'll have one support staff assigned there in charge of coordinating for them, and then the various lawyers "afloat" on the battlecruisers. Just like with OSI, the Air Force already had a lawyer stationed at McMurdo, and a system of getting approval from a judge back in the US as needed."

"Part of what took us so long to get back to you was investigating that system and expanding it for the purposes of the whole program," Mac continued. "We now have adequate support for warrants and the like in Colorado, Nevada, DC, and California, and they've all been cleared by the Morgans. Plus they've been read into the program, so they aren't just blindly approving forms that are more redaction than legible. We decided to base McMurdo's support out of San Diego, since you've got Matthews there in the know. Plus any information coming from McMurdo to New Zealand to the US will reach California first."

"That makes sense," Tony agreed. "So we're all above board from now on?" he double checked.

"Completely," Mac said firmly. "We'll get you a copy of the list of who to contact for your respective areas, and you can go about getting warrants filed properly from now on."

"Fantastic." He was mostly just relieved to know they now had adequate support. The lack of legality for things like warrants was a big concern if they had any active cases pop up, and he'd been worried about that since taking command. "Now what else are you two up to?"

"Well, we'll be touring the Daedalus with you, actually, and then spending a few weeks on board the Prometheus, just like your agents," Mac said.

"Getting a feel for how it differs from a ship and a typical posting," Harm added. "Then we'll come back and put together a primer, just like your guys will, and train up the first few members of the legal 'team Echo' before they're posted to McMurdo and the ships."

"So you're my guinea pigs," Tony teased.

"Basically," Harm agreed with a grin.

"After that, we'll drop back into support positions, much like Kendrick and Matthews," Mac concluded. "The same with our Air Force counterparts, who should be joining us on the Prometheus for at least part of the time. The team that General Morrison wanted have been cleared and approved by the Morgans, and they've signed the NDAs, but they're right in the middle of a huge case right now, so we're handling the details until they've got the time to give us their undivided attention."

"That's Colonels Micah and Danielle Jeffries," Harm slid over two personnel files, which Tony tucked under his notes to look at later. "We'll introduce you once they're free."

"Sounds good," Tony said. It sounded like this duo were fixers for their General, just like Harm and Mac were for Chegwidden, called in for tough cases and trusted to handle the Stargate secret. He wouldn't mind waiting another week or two to meet them if it meant he was getting the best support for his people. Especially since he still had Harm and Mac covering for them. "Anything else?"

"Nothing official," Mac said with a smirk.

"And unofficially?" Tony asked.

"We're sticking around until the Daedalus takes off and the Prometheus is ready for us, so we're free to have dinner with you and Daniel on Sunday night."

"Great! I'll send you the address later."

With that, the meeting quickly broke up. Kristy and Cynthia returned to their respective offices, while Tony made quick work of showing Mac and Harm to the offices next to the elevator that they'd be moved to. If he knew Cynthia and the crew of Sergeants in the mountain — and by now he did — Tony was quite certain that would be taken care of by the end of the day, and Mac and Harm could have their own private spaces starting tomorrow.

Since the meeting had wrapped up right on time, Tony then escorted Harm and Mac down to the Officer's mess for lunch. He ended up sitting with them and Kate Pike, who they were both friendly with, and having fun swapping stories about crazy cases they'd worked on.

Tony was just relieved he only had the one meeting on Wednesdays, and could spend the rest of his day back in the bullpen with his team!

Friday was Tony's meeting day, and there was no getting around it. He now had much more sympathy for Gibbs and the various meetings he had to attend as both an SSA and the head of the MCRT. First thing in the morning was the department head meeting, and at least Tony got to check in with those on the other floors that he didn't see as often. He'd been doing it informally, visiting each area throughout the week, but Cynthia had briskly informed him that he needed to have an official department head meeting from now on, and then informed him that it was booked for first thing on Fridays, when he couldn't escape it with a case.

"Let's start with Forensics," he decided. "Abby? How are you and Hodgins getting along"

"Great! Jack and I have gotten all of our supplies, and we've both arranged our labs exactly the way we want them," she declared cheerfully. "Like I reported last week, we've decided to review the forensic evidence — if there is any — from all the old cases on file. Not because we don't trust whoever did it the first time, but…"

"But accidents happen, especially by those who aren't trained in forensics," Tony agreed.

"Right! So we've started that process, and so far so good. If there are no new cases — which of course there probably will be — we're looking at a month or two to fully review everything and make sure it's up to our standards."

"Excellent," Tony marked that down in his notes. He really hoped that this review didn't throw up any major flags — just like he hoped the same from his teams' and legal's respective reviews — but the possibility would be there, lurking in the background, until all was said and done.

"Anything you need from me?"

"Not as the SAC," Abby said with a little smirk.

Tony returned it, knowing what she was referencing. After their last meeting with the brass, Tom Morrow had asked to talk to Tony alone for a few minutes. He'd offered a bit of advice about dealing with friends who had now become your subordinates, including how to handle running meetings. Tony had been grateful, because he'd already seen a bit of a divide forming between those from NCIS who knew him, and those who were new and likely felt at a disadvantage.

So Tony had sat down with Cassie and Abby — as the two he was the least formal with — and hashed things out. Abby wouldn't be getting hugs from Tony on the clock, nor could she hold his results hostage for caffeine, and in turn Tony would make sure they had time every week to hang out together in their off hours. The latter was no hardship, especially once Daniel left and Tony was rattling around the house by himself again. They were probably going to mess up once or twice as they fell into old habits, but Tony hoped that the others would at least appreciate that he was trying to treat them all equally.

"Good, then next is the morgue: Susan?" She was one of the ones who was more reserved with Tony, but after finding out what she'd gone through with her ex and her son, Tony didn't exactly blame her. She'd agreed to be on a first name basis with him at least, which Tony was counting for a win. And she was very good at her job, which was why they'd hired her in the first place.

"Everything is in place here in the Mountain, and Gerald and I are ready for work when you need us," Susan said. "I've made contact with Dr. Saroyan now that she's stationed in Area 51. Agent Cassidy's team and Major Davis were good about ensuring that the morgue suite was built to specifications and that all the supplies were delivered, so she's just been unpacking and putting things where she wants them. She thinks she'll be done setting up her lab by the end of today, and will start on review as well, come Monday.

"The three of us have talked, and we've decided to follow the trend and review all the evidence from past cases. Not so much looking for mistakes, as the doctors here are quite good, but because we have a lot to catch up on when it comes to alien biology and pathology."

"Understandable," Tony nodded. "Do you need any samples for that kind of thing?" He wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about asking a gate team to get him alien bodies, but if they needed it, he'd figure it out.

Susan shook her head. "Not at the moment. Doctors Fraiser and Brightman were both very good about preserving samples of everything they came across. I've spoken to Dr. Lam about continuing that policy. We also have an understanding regarding procedure for any new pathogen or life form that is encountered in a medical check up on a team. It was also suggested that we speak to the heads of the botany and xenobiology departments, as they might also have samples that we would find interesting. I wanted to check with you first, however."

"That's fine with me," Tony quickly agreed. "I'm sure Cynthia can get you contact information for those department heads if you don't have it already —" he saw her nod out of the corner of his eye "—and in general, I'm fine with us making friends in our related departments. Abby is already going to be working closely with Sergeant Siler in Engineering, I know Jace has several fellow computer geeks to associate with, and I'm sure we'll find other connections as we go. If any of you need to coordinate with another department outside of the SGSI, feel free. Just keep Cynthia and I in the loop."

He got nods around the table for that, then focused back on Susan.

She looked down at her list, but seemed less nervous at his easy acceptance of her previous request. "One thing Dr. Saroyan has asked for is a chance to come to the Mountain to look at some samples in person. I said I'd ask you…"

"I've got no problem with it," Tony said. "We have to find or make up some kind of form for visiting each other sooner or later, so it might as well be now. I know there are regular transports to carry items back and forth between here and Area 51, and presumably personnel as well, so assuming no one minds military transport, we can probably ride along." He chuckled. "As with most things Stargate, I suspect it will simply be a matter of finding out which major or sergeant we need to talk to, and then letting them work their magic."

That got him a few chuckles around the table: Tony was not the only one to have experienced the efficiency of the sergeants in the mountain, and he probably wasn't the only one missing Paul Davis's support, now that the man was back in DC.

"That's it for me then," Susan declared.

"Great! Next is Evidence: Bethany?"

"We've got all the old evidence packed away, but we've run into a few snags since then," Bethany said.

Uh oh. Tony barely managed not to voice his dismay. Things had been going so well, too. He should have expected the other shoe to drop during this meeting.

"The first was that I have two assistants, but only one spare desk. Fortunately, we resolved that pretty quickly, as Cynthia has three assistants, but their office had four workstations. We simply moved one desk into Evidence, did a little shuffling in both spaces, and got everyone squared away."

Tony resisted the urge to facepalm: he'd seen all of the lists for hiring, but he'd not caught either of those discrepancies. Thankfully his people had managed to work things out for themselves. "Great problem solving," Tony said, giving Bethany and Cynthia grateful smiles. "What's the next snag, I ask warily?"

"None of the evidence is logged, per se," Bethany said promptly. "That is, there is usually a list of the contents of each box, and some kind of corresponding list in the sample records we've pulled, but nothing is done with the proper forms, and nothing is computerized."

This time Tony did give in to the urge to facepalm. "Of course."

"Jace said that with your approval, he could install the evidence logging software and the inventory database that we need on our computers, and we can print out the hard copy forms for each box. Then it's just a matter of going through and documenting everything in the system properly," Bethany reassured him. "The FBI and Homeland use the same systems as NCIS, so all of my people are familiar with the programs, both here and at Area 51. It's just a matter of getting them set up."

"Approval granted," Tony said easily. "That goes for all of you: any kind of program you need, check that Jace can handle it, and then I'll rubber stamp it. I've been unofficially told that our initial budget can handle a lot more than we've already thrown at it, so don't let that hold you back from getting what you need to do your job properly."

"Thanks," Bethany said gratefully. "With the right programs in place, we'll probably get through about a year's worth of evidence a week, assuming you'll eventually be pulling us away for new cases or reviewing specific cold ones. As long as things don't go crazy around here—" Bethany and a few others knocked on the wooden table to avoid being jinxed, "—it should take no more than three months to get everything properly logged in the system."

"Wonderful," Tony noted that in the rough timeline he'd created for launching the SGSI. Though they had officially started, he was keeping careful track of when they would be fully caught up to the past and 100% operational for the future. "How are your minions in Nevada?"

"Gina and Greg are getting along just fine — apparently they'd worked together before — and are capable of running their office without me hanging over their shoulder," Bethany assured him.

"That's what I like to hear," Tony said happily. He didn't think anyone would have been recommended — let alone got through all their hiring processes — if they couldn't handle the particulars of this job, including working independently in many cases, but it was nice to hear confirmation. It was also nice to know they weren't feeling totally abandoned by working in a different state than their department head and fellow technicians.

"They've got the same problem of a lack of digitized records, of course, and with the right documentation program they'll be caught up around the same time as us. At least, assuming that they can switch to working on that instead of the big storeroom inventory project."

"That's winding down, so I'm sure we can spare them," Tony said. Once they'd switched to just inventorying each box and taking a picture of the exact contents, instead of trying to match each picture to what it was supposed to be, the physical inventory had sped up immensely. Of course, that matching was going to take a while to complete against the storage manifests, to make sure that every gadget and gizmo was what it was labeled as, but since both Nevada and Colorado people could work on that, it would go much faster, and he'd ensure the evidence techs were spared from that task. "Anything else?"

"That's it for me!" Bethany said, shaking her head.

"Records: Jivin?" Tony asked.

"I too am pleased with my people and their setup in Nevada," Jivin said with an easy smile. "But we're facing the same problem of non-digitized files and no program to scan them into, with a bonus of no scanning devices. I've spoken to Jace about that, and with your approval…"

"Granted," Tony said quickly.

"Then we'll order what we need ASAP, and get right on it. With the proper tools, digitizing can be relatively quick, but we're also hip deep in the inventory project. I was going to say that if we focused intently on one or the other, we could probably finish up in a month or so. With both of those running simultaneously, we should still be able to finish up in two to three months, pending new cases."

Tony nodded, doing some quick calculations and figuring. "In your case, let's prioritize the inventory. Because as soon as that's done, the investigative and recovery teams can get started on tracking down leads while you're digitizing the rest. I don't discount that some clue we need might be hiding in those files we've yet to digitize, but there's probably a lot we can get done without those, while we'd be sitting and twiddling our thumbs otherwise."

"Understood."

"We'll still order your programs and scanning equipment— no sense in waiting." A thought struck Tony. "Speaking of, do they have an inventory program?" He glanced between Jivin and Bethany.

"They do; the information is just incorrect or out of date," Bethany assured him quickly.

"Okay, good. We'll update it as we sort, then," Tony decided. "Anything else for me Jivin?"

"Nope."

"Okay then, Charlie, you're next. How's forensic accounting?" Tony asked one of his newest people. Charlie was FBI, and his counterpart in Nevada, Omar, was IRS and one half of a soulmate couple they'd snagged. Both had been late hires, suggested after the inventory SNAFU came to light. Charlie's office was upstairs, next to the interview rooms, and Tony had no idea what else he'd be needing in the way of workspace, programs, or the like.

"Omar and I have both settled into our offices and are getting to know everyone," Charlie said with a bright smile. "And we actually might be able to solve part of your problem."

"Oh?"

"Well we were talking about the lack of digital records, and I was going to bring it up to Jivin after today's meeting, because if we were stuck going through them all by hand, then we'd need about three other people to help us. But I spent my probie year scanning and digitizing files, so I'm an old hand at it, and I bet Omar is too. We could take on part of the load in records while they're working on inventory. That would also give us a chance to review the files — if we worked slow enough to skim them, instead of just rushing through — and flag the ones that would need our further review."

"I've got no problem with that," Jivin said quickly.

"I love it," Tony decided. "I'll leave that to you to coordinate, then. Anything else you need from me?" Charlie quickly shook his head. "Alright, Interview: Susan?" Susan was also a late hire, but Tony knew her from NCIS, so there was no awkwardness there.

"I've gone over all the interview rooms and all the equipment, and everything is in working order," Susan said quickly, looking at her notes. "The soundproofing is good as long as no one in observation starts yelling, but that was the case at NCIS too. For something that wasn't custom built for that purpose, it's really well assembled."

"Excellent," Tony made a note to pass that on to the correct sergeant. He'd been impressed by their speed, and was glad to know the quality hadn't suffered for it.

"I've also coordinated with Paloma in Area 51, and her observation room is a little less soundproof. She said it was fixable with some acoustic tricks, but she'd need your approval for the budget and work."

"Have her send me a requisition," Tony said easily. "I want things done right, and for once I've actually got the budget to get my wish."

"Will do," Susan grinned. "Her equipment was all in working order, and the tables in her two interview rooms were secured properly. One thing we both noted was that, until you start interviewing people, we don't have a lot to do. Paloma is involved with the inventory project, of course, but I was thinking that I could help in either evidence or records? I don't have a lot of experience with that kind of thing, but I'm a quick learner."

Tony glanced at Bethany and Jivin, and neither one looked opposed. "Sounds good to me. The more the merrier until we're all caught up and shipshape. Just coordinate with Bethany and Jivin — oh, and Cynthia, so she knows where everyone is if we need you!"

"Gotcha," Susan agreed.

"Delores, how's HR doing?" Tony said, moving down to the next name on his list.

"Well fortunately, all of our records are digitized," Delores said with a smirk, making Tony and some of the others chuckle. "Captain Connors and Lieutenant Borislov are both working out just fine, and we've not run into any problems. At the moment I don't need anything from you."

"Alright then," Tony could learn to appreciate concise sitreps from departments with no problems to throw his way.

"Jace, it sounds like Cyber has been busy?"

"Yeah we are," Jace laughed. "I've got regular meetings scheduled for each department to coordinate with their Area 51 counterparts. Barring cases, those are good to go on a weekly basis. Obviously, they can talk more frequently than that if they want or need, using phones and emails, but I've got the War Room booked weekly for everyone as well. I've also got the list of programs that everyone needs, including a few for Pamela and I, for your approval." He slid the paper across the table to Tony, who glanced at it and then quickly signed the bottom before passing it back.

"You've got them all." He recognized all but two of the programs as ones he'd used at NCIS, and trusted Jace to know what he was talking about with the last two. Tony knew they had more than enough in their cyber budget right now to cover these licenses, so there was no reason to delay.

"Thanks," Jace accepted the form back gladly. "As you know, I've also been coordinating your own meetings with Nevada and the others, and I project that we'll be able to handle the load once cases pick up. The problem is for Zane."

"Zane needs a partner?" Tony asked. He'd heard something similar from Penny, given that on paper she was Zane's partner, but with the inventory mess, her work on Project Dolus was taking off faster than anticipated. In reality, she wasn't able to help him with Area 51 at all.

"Zane needs a partner," Jace agreed wryly.

"I thought that was already in the pipeline, but if not, it has my approval," Tony said. He glanced at Delores, who gave him a nod. "I trust you, Zane, and Penny to know what you need in terms of skills, but if you need me to officially rubberstamp the job posting, just let me know. Or if I need to approve a hire, if you've got someone in mind."

"We've got a recommendation from Penny, and Zane and I both like the look of his resume," Jace admitted.

"I'm sold, then. Poach him from wherever he currently works." Tony smirked.

"You got it, Boss," Jace agreed with a matching smirk.

"Anything else?"

"You and Cynthia have a meeting with Paula in the War Room immediately following this one, and then another with all of your SSAs," Jace replied promptly.

Tony groaned and let his head fall down on the table. "Jace!" he complained. "Please let me get through this meeting before making me think about the next one!"

Everyone laughed, and Tony raised his head, still looking disgruntled. He turned to Cynthia and her shadow — David Duncan, Kristy's soulmate — who was taking the notes for this meeting. "Cynthia, light of my life, what do you have for me?"

Cynthia rolled her eyes fondly, but pulled out her own notes. "Our calendar system is launched, and every department is now color coded into it, with another color for active cases. Everyone should keep an eye on the relevant colors. There is also a room booking system — not the one you're likely used to, at least those of you from NCIS, but the one already in use in the Mountain. This boardroom, the war room, the interview rooms, and the courtroom are all listed on it at the moment. I haven't added the supply room, but if we start running into problems there, I'll look into it. At the moment I also haven't added the team bunkroom, because I want to see how much you actually use it while working hot cases before assessing if that's necessary."

"Sounds good," Tony agreed. Almost everyone had found a place for themselves outside of the Mountain — save for the newest hires — and had scheduled their moving date over the next few weeks, so they were about to free up a lot of bunks in the Mountain. "And how are your minions?"

"Two of my three assistants have been hired here, and three of my four in Nevada," Cynthia reported. "I've spoken to Mark Granger, the ranking assistant there, and we're on the same page. He and Paula are coordinating well to get all of the administrative duties off of her hands and into his."

Tony was quite sure that Paula would be more than grateful for that; she really hadn't enjoyed doing the SAC type work that came with being the ranking agent in a different location than her actual SAC.

"The admins there have also received and distributed all of the office supplies and specialized equipment that the teams need, much as you did here," Cynthia continued. "Fortunately, there were no misplaced boxes this time, so no need to get the investigators involved." That prompted a few chuckles from those who knew about Tony's 'highest priority' case of the missing colored pencils.

"Glad to hear it," Tony said, chuckling along.

"We're almost finished with our directory — which you just gave Jace the approval for the program I needed — and are filling in the blanks for the last few new hires," Cynthia continued. "Business cards have caught up to demand, and stationary is coming next. As we work out what forms we need to customize, they'll keep us supplied.

"And finally, first thing Monday, you will all find a copy of the new SGSI Hot Sheet in your email inbox," Cynthia concluded. "We're compiling relevant information from military sources, local Colorado and Nevada law enforcement, federal pipelines, and our own teams to make them. If there's something you think should be included in the future, please pass it on to any of the administrative support staff."

"Brilliant," Tony said gleefully. "I love a fresh hot sheet. Now, does anyone else have anything for me that they've forgotten?" He got headshakes around the table. "Okay, then my announcements: don't forget that you can sign up for assistance in moving into your new residence. See Cynthia or her admins for that. Also, if you need to be available for moving on a weekday, and want to swap to a weekend shift, or make up the extra hours another way, that's fine. Just ensure we know how to reach you in an emergency and take care of what you need to take care of. Same goes for getting someone from the airport, or any other logistical issues. I know we dragged you all out here in mystery and shadows, and with little warning, so we're trying to be accommodating now. I trust you all to make up your hours whenever and however works best for you. If you're a night owl who wants to come sort through records in the middle of the night, more power to you." Tony couldn't speak against it, having done the same thing with his own paperwork — and Gibbs's! — plenty of times.

Tony quickly consulted his notes. "There was a giant packet of information about next of kin and evacuation protocols that everyone was supposed to fill out, and apparently some of you haven't yet, so please get that done and turned in ASAP. Also a heads up that sometime in the next few weeks, the investigative and legal teams will be going offworld for the first time. Once that is done, all of you will be signing up for time slots to do the same. This is just a practice of the emergency evacuation order, and you aren't expected to do anything but get used to gate travel and get a quick tour of the evac site — I forget its designation." Tony flipped through his notes, but he hadn't written it down, so he shrugged and moved on.

"As I said, that's a few weeks out, but keep it in mind. Some of you, like Forensics and ME, might also end up training to go offworld more regularly; I understand the doctors here have made several trips to look at things like plague planets—" he couldn't suppress his involuntary shudder "—and the like, so you'll probably do the same. But that will be after the basic evac drill. Any questions?"

Abby looked like she might burst, but she held it in: clearly these were questions for her friend Tony, not her SAC. When no one else said anything, Tony nodded. "Great. You're all free to go. I'm stuck in meeting hell for most of the day, but you can always email or call me if you have a question that Cynthia can't answer."

With that, the meeting quickly broke up. Tony mouthed "Later" at Abby, who nodded gleefully. Then he, Cynthia, David, and Jace headed upstairs for the next meeting.

Chapter Text

Tony's meeting with Cynthia, Paula, and Mark — the lead admin at Area 51 — had gone well. Paula was relieved that all of the administrative work was now off her shoulders, and was clearly looking forward to just being an SSA from now on, instead of a de facto SAC.

They tentatively planned to continue these weekly meetings for now, but if it seemed that Paula wasn't really needed, she'd drop out and leave Mark to handle it.

With that taken care of, Cynthia and David Duncan had left, swapping out for Kristy to take notes on Tony's behalf. As the clock ticked over the hour, he and Paula were quickly joined by the rest of the SSAs and SFAs.

"Alright, I'll start with a quick round of introductions, then we'll get to it," Tony decided. "As you all know, I'm Tony DiNozzo, NCIS, and in addition to being the SAC, I'm the SSA of team Alpha. My SFA is AFOSI Captain Zoe Perez." Zoe gave a nod when he waved towards her.

"Team Bravo here at the Mountain is led by AFOSI Major Adam Michaelson, and his SFA is Cassie Yates, NCIS. From Area 51, we have the SSA of team Charlie, NCIS agent Paula Cassidy, and her second, AFOSI Captain Sofia Lopez. Finally, we have Team Echo, our wandering bards, headed by Stan Burley, and SFA Sam Hana, both of NCIS." Once everyone had nodded or waved to the rest, Tony looked back to his notes. "First order of business: is any team still missing a member or members?"

"I'm not," Michaelson said.

"I don't know if you'd call him missing, but Shanahan is still finishing up at FLETC," Paula said.

"Do we know how long he has left?" Tony asked, making a note.

"I haven't been told," Paula said sourly.

Tony frowned. "I'll talk to SAC Matthews and see if we can get an ETA on that."

"We have everyone we're supposed to at the moment," Stan reported.

"So you've got Montgomery for McMurdo, and for the Prometheus you've got NCIS agent…" Tony flipped through his notes, looking for the name.

"Lewis," Sam said quickly.

"Right."

"She's currently at McMurdo too, getting the same intro to aliens and the outpost as Montgomery," Stan explained. "Once we finish our inspections and recommendations, she'll be our first agent afloat."

"Right, yes," Tony found the notes he'd taken on her. They'd started with AFOSI at McMurdo out of necessity, since Montgomery was already on the fringes of the program and had seen too much to be kept in the dark. But for their first agent afloat, they'd picked an NCIS agent with a good history of afloat positions, much like Stan had, to give her the best chance of success with their first battlecruiser position.

"And how's she settling in?" Tony asked. "How's everyone settling in? Any problems with the big reveal? Any dramatic personality clashes? Now's the time to do our re-arranging, before people get settled in."

"No problems here," Paula said, with the others quickly echoing her.

"Okay, hopefully that luck holds," Tony said, shuffling his notes back into order. "Now Paula, you had a question for me?" She'd said as much as their previous meeting was wrapping up.

"Yes, is there going to be a second team here at Area 51?" Paula asked.

Tony rocked back in his seat. "Honestly, the brass didn't think it was going to be necessary, but I suspected it would be, which is why I left the Delta designation free. You're the one in the trenches there; what's your opinion?"

"We need it," she said promptly. "I've done the math, and we have almost as many old cases as you do, which means in the future we'll probably have about the same number of new cases. If you have two teams, so should we."

"Alright," Tony nodded decisively. "When I talk to Director Morrow later today I'll tell him that we're in agreement. I know there were more people who made the shortlist than we hired, so hopefully they'll have a good mix from there to make up another team as soon as we get approval." Quite frankly, Morrow had been on the same page as Tony when it came to the distribution of teams, so Tony didn't think there would be any problems from that end.

"To that end, Sam, I promised you first crack at any openings in Area 51, since I know you don't want to be afloat permanently," Tony said. "If you want to toss your hat into the ring for team Delta, shoot me an email within… let's say 48 hours?"

"Will do," Sam agreed with a nod.

"What's happening with Atlantis?" Paula's second, Sofia Lopez, asked.

"They'll have team Foxtrot for now, with potential to expand in the future," Tony said easily. "As I understand it, the Daedalus is going to take three weeks to get to Atlantis, and then a week or two to offload and onload as needed — provided that they don't have to fight off an alien armada or system lord or something in the meantime." Several people shuddered at the reference to the Goa'uld; that had been an exceptionally disturbing portion of their briefing on alien races.

"They then expect a three week return trip with the Atlantis brass, who will be stuck in meetings here for a few weeks minimum before the Daedalus takes them back. If we can get our shit together in that two and a half-ish, three months, then that trip will include both the Daedalus's own agent afloat and the beginnings of team Foxtrot. Not to mention a bunch of lawyers, clerks, technicians, and such. And possibly me, if it's decided that I need to supervise the setting up there. If not, and assuming the whole expedition isn't scrapped — which I've been assured it won't be — then the Daedalus plans to make routine trips back and forth to help supply Atlantis and allow the original expedition shore leave. If the SGSI doesn't make it on that first round back, we'll have to wait two more months to catch the next one.

"Since Stan has the first shot at team Foxtrot, we'll probably be doing a good bit of shuffling in team Echo at that point too. It all kind of depends on what sort of warzone the Daedalus finds themselves in. It might actually take them an extra month or two to get back here, if the situation is dire enough, or they might race back for even more reinforcements, and not have room for something as mundane as law enforcement and forensic technicians."

"Do you think they'll need two teams too?" Zoe asked.

"Honestly, I think it could go either way," Tony said. "but if we assume a rate of cases comparable to our own, person for person, then not yet. Honestly, if it were just the original expedition, I'd probably only send a two person team. The expansion going out with the Daedalus right now justifies a four person team, but unless they do some major growth again in the future, a second team shouldn't be necessary, purely based on the population of the base. Now, if Foxtrot finds that they're being run ragged, then of course we'll double up there too. It's just a matter of striking the right balance."

"Got it."

"Actually, along those lines, my next order of business is JAG," Tony said, getting back to his list for this meeting. "They're expanding like us, and adding an officer to each battlecruiser, as well as the contingents in Colorado, Nevada, and eventually Atlantis. So if you want to make friends, please do." Cassie snorted quietly, well aware of Gibbs's hatred for lawyers, which had forced Tony to keep his friendship with Harm on the down low for years.

"Now, did everyone get that list of judges that was sent out a few days ago?" Tony asked, getting affirmative responses around the table. "Good. With a little luck we'll be able to keep a steady enough pace that we don't overwhelm our little pool of judges with too many warrant requests and the like, but I have no idea what their non-SGSI caseload is like. So, as with our ranking officers and agents, when in need, reach out to the ones in your state first, then expand as needed if no one responds. If you find that you're consistently getting the brush off, either by being ignored or having your applications rejected, talk to the head of your closest JAG team. If we need to, we can always expand our judge pool, but if you're consistently having problems with one in particular, then they might need to reassess his or her connection to the SGSI. Alright?"

With more affirmations, Tony continued to the next thing on his list. A lot of it would be a repeat of the points he'd gone over in his department head meeting, and a lot of it would be repeated again this afternoon in his meeting with the Morgans, but there was no hope for it. This was life when you were in charge, apparently.

Was it wrong that he hoped for a little crime to break up the monotony of meetings?

Apparently it was wrong, and karma had taken objection to Tony's mental complaints, because here he was, twenty minutes from being able to go home, when his new cell phone rang. He was in the bullpen with his team, going through the inventory images from Paula, and he was hyper aware of the eyes of his team on him as he picked up the phone.

"DiNozzo," he said easily.

"This is security: we need you and your team down in Botany," said a voice Tony didn't recognize.

"Do we need the ME?" Tony asked apprehensively, seeing his team perk up slightly at the idea of a case. Clearly he wasn't the only one tired of old case files and meetings.

"No, just your team," the security guard confirmed.

"We'll be there shortly," Tony agreed, then hung up. "Alright, gear up, and someone grab the map from the cabinet. You get to lead us down to wherever the hell Botany is."

"On it," Captain Farmer said, grabbing the clipboard that hung on the side of their equipment cabinet. The team checked their badges and guns, then grabbed their equipment bags and followed Alice's lead out of the bullpen.

They'd not even made it to the end of the hall when lights and sirens went off all around them.

"Unscheduled Offworld Activation!" came the warning, and Tony sighed. It was going to be one of those evenings where when it rained, it poured, wasn't it?

The Botany case was pretty open and shut, between the witnesses and cameras, but Tony played it all out by the book anyway, taking samples and interviewing everyone properly. In the end, as so many cases did, it all boiled down to professional jealousy and pettiness, and a rushed decision in the heat of the moment.

Dr. Benson had been selected to join the Atlantis Expansion, while Dr. Carmichael hadn't. It meant that Dr. Benson's experiments here in Cheyenne Mountain would be handed over to the other botanist when she left, but Dr. Carmichael had enough work of his own, and didn't want to be responsible for what he considered to be boring and pointless work.

It had come to a head in their final briefing, when Dr. Benson was supposed to be showing Dr. Carmichael the ropes, and he'd finally snapped and destroyed the samples.

Open and shut it may be, but Tony wasn't taking any chances, so he warned his entire team to follow every procedure to the letter. It may be a relatively small case — though who knew what Dr. Benson's research could actually have led to — but if they were going to come in and insist that their method of investigating was the best, he wasn't going to get sloppy with even a simple case like this. Even if it did mean that his team, Abby, and Susan their interview tech were working past 2100 to get everything finished.

Finally though, all the "i"s were dotted and the "t"s were crossed, and Dr. Carmichael was going to be spending the weekend in the brig until JAG came in and dealt with him on Monday. The warrant for his computer had been sent out, and — provided that it came back by Monday — Abby was going to be going through his files for any indications that this was something more mole-like and nefarious than simple professional jealousy and a short temper. But until then, there was nothing else to do but go home.

It wasn't until Tony was walking in the door of Daniel's house that he even remembered the Unscheduled Offworld Activation from earlier, and that because Daniel was up and packing up the last of his things, which they had intended to work on on Sunday.

"Daniel? What's up?" Tony asked when he came across his partner taping up a box

"You heard the, uh, alert tonight?" Daniel asked.

"The Unscheduled Offworld Activation? Yeah, we'd just gotten called to our first real case, so I put it out of my mind," Tony admitted. "Why, what was it?"

"It was Atlantis." Daniel said with a small frown.

"Atlantis? They found a whatchamacallit? A ZMP? And called home?"

"A ZPM," Daniel corrected. "And they were only able to call us for a few seconds, enough to, uh, to send through a data burst, but nothing else. We've got a year of reports to— to go through, and we'll have to change up some of what we plan to send them, but the real problem is that they seem to have discovered an enemy as bad as, if, uh, if not worse than the Goa'uld. And now th— they're facing down an oncoming attack."

"What's worse than an evil snake that takes over your body?" Tony asked, sinking down onto the couch.

"An evil vampire that literally feeds on humans until they wither and die," Daniel replied wryly.

"Okay, that definitely sounds like bad news," Tony conceded. "Are you still going? I mean right away? You mentioned an oncoming attack?"

Daniel sighed. "The wraith are ap— apparently sending some large hive ships to Atlantis, and their intel suggests the ships will arrive in two weeks. Because of the threat, uh, we're going to use the ZPM in our Stargate to send in immediate reinforcements. Then, instead of just shipping it on the Daedalus, th— they're going to hotwire it into their systems and juice it up. Hermiod thinks we can, uh, we can cut the trip to four days without depleting the ZPM too much."

"So you're leaving sooner," Tony realized.

"Just by a— a day or two," Daniel admitted. "It will take time to get the troops ready, and to— to finish packing the Daedalus, not to mention wiring it to play nice with the ZPM. We— we're still looking at most of a week before we leave, but some of the, uh… less pressing disciplines might have to leave some equipment and personnel behind, un— until the next trip."

"Not you though."

"No, I'm… considered combat capable, so I won't just be a— an extra body to be fed on," Daniel confirmed. "But some of the scientists who aren't on combat ready teams, like, uh, the archaeologists and botanists, may get bumped for their own safety."

Tony snorted at the reference to botany; non-combatants they may be, but they still could pack a punch. Still, no matter how much experience Daniel may have with SG-1, Tony wasn't comfortable with the idea of him going into an active warzone. "You'll be careful, right?" His voice was softer than he would have liked, but at least it didn't waver.

"I will," Daniel promised.

The next morning found them at the house Tony and Daniel had picked out. Well, more Tony than Daniel, but not because Tony didn't want him involved in the process. Daniel had just spent so long living rough on dig sites, and then Abydos, and then spending most of his time offworld or in the mountain, that the idea of "home" had long meant more of a place to crash out than an actual retreat to be enjoyed.

Tony, though, had ideas, and visions, and the more places they looked at, the more Daniel warmed up to the idea. It helped that every place they looked at, Tony was just as insistent on a place for Daniel's books and artifacts as he was for his own movies and piano. Tony was looking not just for a house, but for a real home; one for him and Daniel to share together.

It made warm feelings surge in his chest, and Daniel had to keep a tight lid on them lest he change his mind about going to Atlantis. Even there, Tony was perfect, agreeing that Daniel needed to go, and logically detailing how they could maintain their relationship despite the distance. It wasn't for lack of passion, as they'd had several heated makeout sessions, but Tony was just genuinely accepting of Daniel's calling, and willing to work around it to have as much time together as possible. It was humbling to have a partner that devoted to him, and Daniel had promised himself more than once that he wouldn't take it for granted.

In addition to the perfect partner, they had also managed to find what Tony considered the perfect house. It was a two story, three bed, three bath, ranch style house with a two car garage that had plenty of room for Tony to work on both of their classic cars. The first floor included a generous open plan living room, dining room, and kitchen, with plenty of space for their friends and teams to get together. The kitchen itself was sleek and upgraded, and Tony had all but swooned over it when he first saw it. The kitchen opened up to a back porch and a decent sized yard, and between their respective teams Daniel saw a lot of entertaining out there in their future.

There was also a den downstairs, which Tony had offered up to Daniel to use as a home office. Tony had no intention of bringing his work home with him, but Daniel still occasionally consulted with colleagues on Earth, and wrote papers in anticipation of the day he could publish them, so the office would get a good bit of use. Not to mention it would be a place where he could display some of his more delicate artifacts, where they wouldn't be out in the main rooms, at risk of an inopportune nudge. Tony had even looked online at some museum case style displays, and Daniel was seriously considering them. He made good money — especially with the gate teams getting hazard pay — and barely spent it in his limited time on Earth outside the Mountain, so it wasn't like Daniel couldn't afford them. Especially since Tony had agreed to split the cost of this house after Daniel's old one sold, so he'd have a good chunk of money coming in from the sale. Maybe it was time for his artifacts to be displayed properly. Of course, if they moved to Atlantis permanently, the cases might be a moot point.

Daniel dragged his mind away from Atlantis and back to the house. He'd already signed where he should on the forms, and Tony was taking his turn as Daniel meandered around the living room, trying to imagine it furnished. The house was well lit, with the covered front and back porches keeping out the direct sunlight and allowing more of an ambient tone that wouldn't damage their various books, movie covers, artifacts, and instruments.

Upstairs was a large master bedroom and ensuite, and Tony and Daniel had agreed to share it when they were on Earth together. One of the upstairs bedrooms would be reserved for guests, and the other was being turned into a music room for Tony. He'd already checked the door clearances, and the stairs were straight, so he'd be able to get his piano inside with minimal risk. Not like bringing it through the window of his old apartment, as Tony explained, telling the harrowing story with all the drama he could.

The second time they'd viewed it, without anyone else from the program along, Tony had again brought out his tape measure, as well as a list he'd compiled, and he dragged Daniel from room to room, determining exactly where all of Daniel's bookshelves would fit, and whether there was enough space for them while still letting Tony get the large entertainment center that he wanted. Since Tony didn't mind Daniel putting a bookshelf in their bedroom — and even had one of his own in his piano room for his sheet music — they were able to ensure that everything would fit.

Daniel hadn't expected things to move along quite that quickly, but it turned out that Tony had a trust fund, and money talked. Especially money in the form of a cash offer for the full asking price. They were meeting the realtor this morning to sign the last of the paperwork, and once it was filed, by the end of the week Tony and Daniel would own their new house. The sale would definitely be completed before his original departure date, but with the new, shorter timescale — which they were, by mutual agreement, not discussing — it was a tossup. Instead of potentially doing a bit of moving in next weekend, and at least seeing how it would go, Daniel would be gone on Friday, and Tony would be moving in entirely on his own.

The warm feeling in his chest sank into a ball of guilt in his stomach, but Daniel shoved it away. He needed to go to Atlantis, and Tony agreed with him. He didn't need to feel guilty about something they both agreed was necessary.

Daniel forced his mind back into the moment, and watched as Tony signed the last of the papers with a flourish.

"Fantastic," their realtor, Jackie, said happily. "I'll file these today, and they should be official on Monday or Tuesday. The staging furniture is coming out on Tuesday, save for the pieces you bought, and the keys will be yours starting from now." She handed Tony two sets of keys, and he quickly passed the second to Daniel. "I wouldn't advise moving any of your own things in until the staging company is done, just to prevent any misunderstandings about what belongs to who. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"That's it," Tony said with a smile. "Thank you so much, Jackie."

"My pleasure, Tony, Daniel." Jackie shook their hands, then gathered up her folio with all the paperwork in it. "Enjoy your new home, gentlemen."

In a whirl of bright smiles and clicking heels, she was gone, and Tony and Daniel were left alone in their new home.

"C'mon, let's just bask for a moment," Tony prompted, gently grabbing Daniel's hand and leading him over to the den — his future office — and the loveseat within. It wasn't long enough for either of them, but it and the side chairs matched the style of Daniel's couch, so they'd bought them to fill out the living room a bit more. If they were going to be having people over more often, they needed enough seating for everyone. The staging couch in the living room had been stiff and uncomfortable, and Tony had immediately vetoed it, but the large dining room table and matching chairs were also staying. With the leaves in, there was enough space around it to fit both SG-1 and Tony's team if they wanted.

"I— I can't believe we have a house together," Daniel said, echoing his earlier thoughts a little, "and so quickly."

Tony shrugged and grinned sharply. "Money can buy just about anything, including expedited service. One of the few useful things that Senior taught me." Tony had opened up a bit about Senior, and his childhood, but Daniel didn't want him to get caught up in those memories for too long.

"Still, I've never really, uh, experienced it for myself," Daniel pointed out. "And now we can start to move in together!" The fact that Daniel himself wouldn't be here for long went unsaid, but the undercurrents were still very much there.

"Yeah, and eventually we'll be able to have a housewarming party with both of our teams," Tony agreed, thankfully bypassing the awkwardness. "Or should that be former team? I don't know how you really consider SG-1 now that you're not together in the field anymore."

"In this instance, team is fine, but yes, t— technically they are my former team," Daniel said.

"How are they doing?" Tony asked. "I know I've seen Jack frequently in meetings, but that's the General. That doesn't tell me about your friend. And Teal'c is offworld, do you ever hear from him?"

Daniel felt the warm glow in his chest returning at the thought that Tony had actually listened to him talking about his team and wanted to know how they were doing. "Teal'c, uh, visits when he can, but usually just for a few hours to catch up. Last— last I heard their Free Jaffa are doing well, and they're slowly making progress. He w— was going to try to come visit me before I left, but I haven't seen him yet, so I don't— I don't know if he's going to still come." Or if he'd come, but just after Daniel had left with the new accelerated time frame.

"Sam's good though," he pushed on, ignoring the pang at potentially missing Teal'c. "She's happy at Area 51, finally able to research some of the things we found over the years. She was here yesterday— well, not here, here, but at the base. S— something about an upgrade for the dialing program in preparation for exploring other galaxies more frequently. I was, uh, going to see if you wanted to grab a meal with her this weekend, but, uh…"

"Then the data burst from Atlantis came in, and she's knee deep in it now?" Tony guessed with a wry smile.

"Yep."

"Well, maybe I'll be able to catch her whenever I go inspect my Area 51 crew. I don't know when exactly that will be, but soon—"

"Sooner than I'll be back," Daniel said gently when Tony trailed off.

"Yeah."

"Th— that's a good plan. I'm— I'm sure she'll be happy to share all kinds of embarrassing stories about when I first— first joined the team," Daniel tried to bring the mood back up.

Tony smiled, though it didn't fully reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'll get all the dirt on you, I'm sure. I'll be ready to tease you properly once we're reunited." They sat quietly for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. "So, will they retire the SG-1 thing with you guys split up, or will a new team take on the mantle?"

"I don't— I don't actually know," Daniel admitted. "The new General will prob— probably make that decision. If it were up to Jack, we'd probably stay SG-1 even when we're on different p— planets." Like he was about to be. It seemed that no matter what they tried, the conversation always came back to the elephant in the room.

"Okay, enough moping," Tony declared. "We have a gorgeous house, and we're going to be able to start moving into it in a few days. Let's go home and finish planning, and then we can make out on our full sized couch," he poked the back of the loveseat as though to reprimand it for being too small for them to properly cuddle on. "We can defile your new office later."

Daniel flushed at the idea of defiling any of the rooms of their new house, and quickly cleared his throat. "S— sounds like a plan."

Chapter Text

Tony was officially geeking out! He was on a spaceship! A real, live, American battleship in orbit over the Earth! If the shimmering, disconcerting, beam me up technology that had been used to get him here wasn't enough to convince his brain of the truth, the view of their planet in a black abyss out the main window was definitely helping.

Beside him, Harm whistled lowly.

"Man, that is amazing," Sam Hanna said from Tony's other side.

"Better than a Tomcat at 50,000 feet?" Mac asked her partner quietly.

"I could be convinced," Harm joked, the awe clear in his voice.

"I'd like to give you more time to stare, but we are on a tight schedule," a stern voice said from behind them.

Tony and his team turned around and found an older, balding man in a green jumpsuit. His insignia clearly identified him as Colonel Steven Caldwell, the commander of the Daedalus. "Thank you for having us," Tony said, coming to a loose attention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stan do the same thing, while the other three saluted.

Caldwell returned it easily. "Captain Cooper, one of my Navigators, will be giving you the actual tour," he said. "I have to supervise the loading of a squadron of F-302s in the Hangar."

"Of course," Tony said, as the Captain in question saluted his crew. "Please don't worry about us; we'll do our best to stay out of the way." Given the rush to prep the Daeaduls for an earlier departure, getting it up to war footing, and whatever had to be done to make it compatible with a ZPM, Tony was just happy that their tour was still going to happen. He had no problems being handed off to a lower officer while Caldwell actually did his job.

With an accepting nod, Caldwell turned and headed down the hallway. Tony turned towards their guide. It was only going to be a brief tour, giving himself, Mac, and Harm the feel for the battlecruisers and giving Sam and Stan a comparison point for when they transferred to the older Prometheus in a few days. Still, he intended to make the most of his first trip onto a real spaceship!

"So, Captain Cooper," he said with a friendly smile, "I'm sure you've found all kinds of fun surprises and easter eggs on this bad boy. Tell us all about the Daedalus."

"So now we've got something called the SGSI setting up shop around here?" Heather asked, sliding into her seat with a full plate from their snack table.

Tong nodded across the table at his fellow Marine. "I heard rumors they're going through all the old files to find reasons to arrest as many people as possible."

"What? Why?" Heather asked.

"To make room for new people?" Gunnarsson grumbled, setting down his own plate and taking his usual seat. "Maybe to shut the program down and keep us all from talking because we're all buried in some deep dark hole for supposed 'crimes'."

The rest of the group stared at the security guard, but he held his ground.

"I didn't say it was reasonable, or had any basis in fact, just that it was a rumor I heard," Tong finally said dryly, cracking open his beer.

"I heard a rumor I'm pretty sure is a fact: that all of them are going to have to get evac training, which means we're gonna spend a week or more shoving them through the gate and getting puked on," Heather grumbled. "And there's dozens of them."

Tong groaned at the thought. "Oh my god, they are. We will!"

"Okay, Graham, you ran errands for them for, like two weeks; spill!" Jonesy said, dealing out the cards. "Twos are wild," the corpsman added.

"There isn't much to tell," Graham said easily. "First it was a week of hauling record boxes out of storage and putting 'em in the new SGSI space. Then it was just boxes of junk going all over the place. Unpacking it all at least gave us a bit of a change of pace. The boss, SAC DiNozzo, was decent enough when he talked to us, and willing to lend a hand, unlike some officers who just sit on their ass while you do all the work. Oh, but the one day he had us sorting all kinds of things like office supplies, except they consider some freaky stuff 'office supplies', if you know what I mean."

"Like what?" Heather asked, tossing a chip into the pot. The marine was always the first to raise.

"Like all kinds of little jars and baggies, for samples he said. A whole bunch of art supplies, for sketching out crime scenes apparently — I guess photos aren't enough. And more gloves than the medics use. Not to mention all the creepy tools that went into the new morgue." Graham shuddered.

"There's a morgue now?" Rafiq, one of the engineers asked. "Last time we just laid everyone out in the giant room on 17."

"There's a morgue now," Kepler in maintenance confirmed. "We had to install top of the line quarantine suppression systems, as well as new drainage and ventilation." He folded his hand. "Oh, and that giant room on 17 is a courtroom now."

"They think we'll need a whole ass courtroom?" Jonsey asked.

"I'm telling you, they're putting us all on trial!" Gunnarsson insisted.

"There's five lawyers here now permanently, plus two passing through, and we just got orders to set aside even more offices for them" Kepler confirmed, ignoring the other man's paranoia.

"Chang is on temporary duty in Nevada, following his soulmate, and he said there's a few at Area 51 too," Washington from security added.

"Ugh, lawyers! What do we need so many lawyers for? We never needed them before," Graham complained.

"I heard one of their support staff talking at lunch," Washington explained; apparently every time something goes wrong around here and we get questioned, we're supposed to have JAG with us — on both sides of the table. They're appalled that our rights have been ignored or something for all these years."

The others sat for a minute, thinking that through.

"Huh," Graham finally said. "Call."

"Well, I'm not going to object to that, I guess," Jonesy said, adding his own call to the pot.

"I'm still stuck on the fact that we have a real morgue now," Rafiq said.

"Well we haven't had an ME since Doc Biro went to Atlantis, and we'd only had her for about a year before that," Jonesy said. As a corpsman, he knew all the gossip coming out of medical. "Before that, Doc Fraiser tended to do things herself. I ain't mad that there's someone just dedicated to that now, keeping it out of the Infirmary."

"Fair enough," Rafiq agreed, then laid his cards down. "Kings over fives." The others groaned and tossed their cards as he raked in the chips.

"Is there really enough crime here to keep them occupied, though?" Graham asked. "I mean, there's a ton of new people attached to this thing."

"Maybe they could solve the crime of you hiding jokers up your sleeve," Kepler teased his soulmate, gathering up the cards to shuffle.

"Maybe that new ME'll have to separate your head from your ass," Graham shot back without heat, as the other laughed.

"Keep the kink behind closed doors, boys," Jonesy joked.

"I don't know about crime, but the lawyers are going to be a godsend," Heather said seriously after they had all calmed down.

"Ugh, lawyers," Gunnarsson complained, taking a pull of his beer.

"No, really," Tong chimed in. "You aren't on a gate team, so you don't understand. We have to make treaties all the time, between us and whatever alien group, or between two groups fighting over a continent, it's honestly the worst part of going through the gate."

"Yeah, you think legalese is bad? Try alien legalese," Heather added as Kepler started dealing.

"Twos are wild, fives or better to open," Kepler murmured.

"If the SGSI wants to bring in a handful of lawyers to handle that instead of us, I say they're welcome to it," Tong concluded. "More power to them, and I will protect them with my life if it means I never have to stumble over the wording of an alien non-aggression contract ever again."

"Here here!" Heather agreed.

"Wait, so they're really going through the gate and all?" Kepler asked, finishing up the deal.

"Yup," Tong confirmed. "Boyd told me there's a whole schedule of off-world trips planned. The whole lot of them are getting the alphabet tour of our backup sites, and then the lawyers at least are gonna go through on the regular. Probably the ME too, whenever the Docs go."

"I heard some of the agents were talking about it at lunch; they're going through the gate too, to handle off-world investigations," Jonesy said.

"Which brings us back to crime. Is there really enough of it to keep them busy? I get the lawyer thing, but the rest of them?" Graham asked.

"I don't know, but the brass must think so. And scuttlebut says they've already solved a few cases," Rafiq said, flashing a pair of fives and then tossing a chip into the pot.

"Oh yeah, I know the mess hall is happy to have them here," Tong said. "Whether they'll have more or not, they did actually solve a case already."

"What's that?" Graham asked, folding.

"Oh, the silverware thing?" Kepler chimed in as he called.

"Yup," Tong said. "Davidson from KP was telling me that the silverware kept going missing, and they were starting to make noises about shaking down everyone's bunk to see who was stealing it. They were being forced to go through the trash to make sure it wasn't tossed out, and the Master Chief was threatening to take it out of their pay. In comes the SGSI and they solved it in one afternoon. Some science magnet was keeping it all in one of the labs. Davidson was just grateful they figured it out before a witch hunt started. I guess everyone in the mess hall crew is ready to kiss their feet for that."

"Oh sure, they solve an easy case like that, get everyone on their side, and then they strike," Gunnarsson complained, trashing his cards.

"Okay, seriously man, what's your deal? What shady shit are you getting up to in security that you don't want cops around?" Rafiq asked.

"Yeah, it's getting to be a thing," Heather chimed in.

"Don't look at me;" Washington protested, holding up his hands defensively. "It isn't a Security thing, just a Gunnarsson thing."

"You'd hate them too if you had to kiss the boots of that boss of theirs," Gunnarsson complained.

"DiNozzo?"

"Deputy Director Morrow?"

"No, Kendrick!" Gunnarsson burst out. "That dick from AFOSI. He's one of their bosses, and I was assigned to be his personal security last time he was here. All this talk about how shady the program was, and how we broke so many rules, and how people like Teal'c shouldn't even be allowed out of the mountain, and just all kinds of crap. I've never wanted to punch a superior officer more in my life."

There was a long moment of silence as they considered that.

"That's fair," Washington finally decided. "I didn't have to be around him much, but he was definitely a dick."

"Yeah, but the rest of the group ain't like that," Graham protested as the bets went around the circle again. "DiNozzo was nice to us, answered all our questions, didn't threaten to arrest anyone once, even as a joke. He's the one in charge here in the mountain, ain't he?"

"Yeah, and my boss said that he answers direct to Morrow at Homeworld and the Generals, not Kendrick," Kepler said. "He was talking to Major Davis about it when they were plotting out all the new offices and whatnot. He said Kendrick and the equivalent NCIS guy might come visit, but it would be rare, because DiNozzo answered to Morrow directly. If they do come around, they'll be DiNozzo's problem, not ours."

"And thank god for that," Gunnarsson agreed. "Though it sucks to be DiNozzo in that case."

"That's not the only sucking in his future," Heather said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. When the others groaned, she just laughed at them. "Come on Wash, tell them what you told me yesterday."

The others all turned to him expectantly.

"Well, DiNozzo and Doctor Jackson have been arriving and leaving together," Washington said. "At first we thought DiNozzo was just staying at his house instead of on base like most of his people."

"Rank has its privilege," Jonsey agreed.

"Yeah, but then Lopez saw them making out against his car a few days ago."

The group burst out with shouts and catcalls.

"So you think they're together?" Tong asked.

"We think they're soulmates," Washington said. The group considered that for a minute, several of them touching the standard issue bands that covered their own wrists.

"So, which came first, do you think? The job, or finding each others' names?" Heather finally asked. "Oh, and can anyone beat queens and fours?" The others scowled and tossed their cards into the pile. Heather chuckled gleefully as she stacked up her winnings.

"It'd have to be the names, right? How else would you find someone down the rabbit hole that is the SGC?" Kepler said.

"Yeah, but they wouldn't pick him just because he's Doc Jackson's soulmate, right?" Jonesy said. "Like, he still needs to be good at the job and all?"

"You'd think," Gunnarsson muttered, even as he gathered up the cards to shuffle.

"Yeah, you'd hope that they picked someone right for the job; they could have easily brought DiNozzo in as a normal agent like the others if they were just doing Jackson a favor," Tong said.

"His people seem happy enough with him in charge," Graham said, "and they'd know best if he was qualified to be their SAC. They definitely could have brought in someone like Kendrick to be in charge of the whole SGSI group instead of DiNozzo."

Gunnarsson and Washington both shuddered at the thought.

"So he must be competent, not just Doctor Jackson's soulmate," Heather concluded.

"Probably," Rafiq agreed.

"Nothing but jokers wild," Gunnarsson said, dealing roughly.

"There's several open soulmate pairings amongst his people too; they don't bother to cover their wrists," Washington added. "Chang said there's a bunch at Area 51 as well, plus some new pairings."

"There's one going to Atlantis too, if the scuttlebutt about Major Lorne is correct," Heather added with a smirk.

"What's the scuttlebutt?" Kepler asked.

"That he's been paying awfully close attention to the new SGSI people in the mess hall."

"That could just be simple curiosity," Graham pointed out.

"And that he keeps rubbing his wrist band," Heather concluded triumphantly.

"Together that's pretty damning," Rafiq agreed.

"C'mon Jones, you must see all their wrists in medical," Gunnarsson prodded. "Who's got who?"

"First of all, only the head Doc takes the images of everyone's wrist, and that's locked up in their medical files," Jonesy said sternly. "Second, it's against regulations to go peeking beneath their bands without permission, and if we have to remove them for some reason, we're to do our best to cover the names with bandages or something, unless the patient waives their privacy. Even then, we're not supposed to look too obviously, or gossip about what we see. That's for them to know, and for us to keep our noses out of. Even if I had seen someone's wrist, I wouldn't tell you lot."

"He's right; that kind of shit can get him arrested if it gets out that he's leaking classified medical information — which soulmate names are considered. And if they found out he was leaking their names, our new SGSI would probably throw the book at him, just on principle," Washington said firmly. "Drop it, man."

A round passed quickly before the conversation turned back to the new SGSI team. "Have you noticed none of them wear BDUs?" Washington asked as Rafiq dealt.

"A lot of the civilians didn't at first," Kepler pointed out. "Especially the ones who didn't go through the 'Gate on the regular. Doctor Jackson was the first to cave and start wearing them all the time, if I remember correctly, and the rest sort of followed his lead."

"They'll probably come around in time then," Heather decided. "Raise ya ten."

"Hell with that," Tong and Washington promptly folded. Gunnarsson stubbornly called.

"I dunno; some of their civilians are awfully civilian. Davidson said there's a couple who eat in the officer's mess who wear, like, suits with skirts. Real office getup," Tong said as he headed for the snack table.

"I know exactly which one you mean," Washington chimed in, joining him. "Her first day, DiNozzo called her the Dragon Lady and it was totally a fearful compliment. You'll never catch her dressed down in BDUs."

"How bout that tall girl; the one with the spider tattoo? You think she'll be wearing BDUs any time soon?" Jonesy jeered.

Rafiq shook his head, "she just might, actually. She's their forensic technician, and she actually understands it when we talk engineering. She went home the first weekend with the manuals for all the rigs, and first thing Monday she was back with all kinds of intelligent questions about 'em. Sergeant Siler was actually pretty impressed."

"Still, her clothes are pretty out there," Jonesy said, "Raise you five more."

"Actually, one of the agents was teasing her about that outside her lab last week; apparently outside the Mountain she's a full blown goth. What you've seen is her toned down, working clothes." Rafiq said, then scrapped his hand.

"No way!" Heather laughed, calling. "A goth!?"

"That's what Agent Yates said!"

"Wow. I'd pay to see her in BDUs then."

"Actually, she might like the black ones you use for stealth missions," Graham said evenly, calling as well. "It wouldn't be totally out there to imagine."

"I thought goths were all creepy," Heather complained.

"Not Abby," Rafiq shook his head. "She's the most bubbly person you'll ever meet. Like I said, even Sergeant Siler likes her, and he's damn hard to impress. She's not creepy or always talking about death, or anything like that. Well— she has some pictures on the walls that she says are blown up images of microscopic stuff like bacteria, so that might be a little creepy, but more in a medic way than a death way."

"Oh yeah, some of the geneticists and docs get plenty creepy when they're talking about viruses and whatnot," Jonesy confirmed, then pitched his voice high and nasally. "Isn't this virus beautiful? It's perfectly engineered to kill an entire planet in three days. It's marvelous, isn't it?"

"Okay, that's creepy," Heather decided.

"You wanna talk creepy? Apparently the boss, DiNozzo, caught the plague. Like, the real, honest to god Earth plague," Jonesy said. "And he survived without any of our alien tech 'n shit."

"Isn't that a confidential medical thing?" Washington asked, frowning.

"Nah, he was fine talking about it; his whole crew knew. At least, some of them did, and they were filling in the newbies. Some crazy lady sent it to the NCIS office because she insisted they'd covered up a case that wasn't even a case, and he was the unlucky schmuck who opened the envelope."

That prompted shudders around the table.

"Man, I'm glad we just have to deal with aliens. Humans are fucking crazy," Rafiq said.

"Word," Heather agreed.

"What's the word, Sir?" Tony cheerfully asked as Tom Morrow appeared on the video screen. There had been a small delay at his end, so Jack, Paul Davis, General Hammond, Daniel and Tony had already gotten through the pleasantries, and Tony had been introduced properly to Sam Carter, who was joining them tonight.

"The word is 'turnover' — as in, there's going to be some at NCIS," Tom said grimly.

Tony quietly sucked in a breath. That didn't sound good. Last week they'd discussed the rash of emails with false pretenses, and Tom had confirmed that his people should ignore them. Tony had since gotten two more, and forwarded them to Tom to look into.

"I assume this is tied to the reason that Davenport quietly retired this afternoon," General Hammond said.

Tony couldn't hide his shock at that. Davenport had become the new SecNav while Tony was recovering from the plague, and had been in office for only a few months. If he was back on the way out, then some major skeletons had to have been discovered in his closet.

"It turns out that Davenport was, in the past, involved in a 'program' that was little more than a disgusting abuse of his authority," Tom said, his revulsion evident. "This was discovered some years back by Eli David, the head of Mossad, who recently used that leverage to place Jenny Shepard as the head of NCIS and to greenlight placing his daughter on the MCRT. Jenny, in turn, was to allow Ziva David whatever access she wanted, without question, in return for information on a man she blamed for the death of her father. Her plan for revenge, which I just finished reviewing her notes on, included sending you undercover to seduce the man's innocent daughter, Tony."

"Hence the barrage of emails trying to get me out of the SGC," Tony said absently, mind whirling with the ramifications. He'd been appalled after their last meeting to hear that David was on his former team, sitting at Kate's desk, no less! Since then, he'd wondered why Gibbs had allowed it. Now, knowing the kind of games being played at the higher positions in their chain of command, he had to assume that Gibbs had been blackmailed to play nice. He certainly wouldn't put it past Eli David, Davenport, or Shepard.

"Indeed," Tom sighed. "Thanks to the Morgans and their team, we now have the information ourselves, and it has been turned over to the president, who has come down on the Office of the Navy like a hammer. At the moment, assistant SecNav Jarvis is filling in, and my pick for NCIS — Owen Granger — has taken over for Shepard. With luck, this means the harassing emails from NCIS will stop, and you can get back to focusing on your own team."

"Thank you, Sir," Tony said quickly.

"Jarvis was already read in on the Stargate program, and has expressed no desire to change anything until he's reviewed the status of everything under his domain, which should take us well past the launch of the Daedalus, so you don't need to worry about any unexpected static from that side. There's quite a bit of upset on the Hill tonight, and NCIS is under a bit of scrutiny for the quick turnover in directors, but I know most of that is of no concern to the rest of you. That's it from my end," Tom said tiredly. "George?"

"Thank you Tom. First of all, I wanted to say that, per the information provided by the Morgans, we will not be moving forward with hiring Hank Landry. As such, Jack will remain at Cheyenne Mountain for the foreseeable future, as we attempt to find a new candidate using their more stringent background checks. As such, I will also be delaying my retirement and remaining here at Homeworld for as long as Jack is needed elsewhere."

"Thanks for that," Jack said dryly, but Tony knew him well enough now to know he was joking, and obviously already aware of that plan. He was grateful that Penelope and Derek's warning had been heeded, as there were just too many red flags in Landry's file for his taste.

"Now, we've also taken your suggestion for a staging site under consideration, and it's a good one," Hammond picked up the thread of the meeting easily. "Jack and I went over the options, and we've picked one of our potential Beta sites which has not yet been used. Starting tomorrow, there will be a permanent satellite site set up there, designated Theta, and all gate travel from Earth will be routed through it. We've scheduled short check in visits with our allies, spread over the next month, to inform them of the new address. Jack?"

"Engineering already had a spare Iris tucked away in case ours was damaged, and they spent most of today installing it onto the Theta gate. New backup irises for both Theta and SGC are on order, but suffice to say that once we get all the computers set up, we'll have the same amount of control over unwanted visitors there as we do here."

"That's good to hear," Tom said, and Tony couldn't help but silently agree. He'd been right to be worried about foothold situations — there were apparently a lot more from the later years of the program that Director Morrow had been reading through, and he'd been just as appalled at the situation. His own experience with the incursion at NCIS made him the better one to bring it up to the Generals, and it seemed that they'd taken his concerns seriously, and moved far more quickly than Tony had expected.

"We've updated the small metal address placards that the SG teams give out to our allies, and Sergeant Siler assured me that the first batch with the Theta address was printed this afternoon," Paul Davis chimed in. "He said there will be enough to update every ally on Sergeant Harriman's list, and plenty more for future missions."

"The Geek squad are working on the rest of it," Jack said dismissively, waving at Sam Carter.

"Yes Sir," she agreed. "Basically we tossed the problem at the entire department to brainstorm how to rewrite our own address in the gate system. One of the ideas we toyed with when we were considering how to reconnect with Atlantis was a kind of intergalactic gate network, where one gate could connect to another in a daisy chain. We scrapped that idea when the Daedalus was built, but now we're looking at it again. We think it might be possible to basically add a virus to the gate network that will swap our address with another one, similarly to how we accounted for stellar drift when dialing. That way, anyone who dials us will automatically be shunted to a different planet of our choosing. We would then use that planet's address ourselves to get between here and Theta."

"You're talking about call forwarding," Tony said.

"Yeah, basically," Sam agreed brightly. "You dial P3X whatever, and the call routes here. If you call Earth, you get forwarded there. We aren't positive we'll be able to do a straight swap; we might have to use three addresses in a triangle, but we think the idea's viable."

"I like it," Jack agreed.

"So just to make sure I'm clear, our allies will all be directed to the Theta site, and anyone else who dials us directly will bounce to some r— random planet instead of us?" Daniel asked.

"That's the gist of it," Sam nodded.

"I like it too," he decided.

"Me three," Tony chimed in.

"I'll definitely feel better about our security once both plans are in place," General Hammond agreed. "Anything else to add?"

Tony had offered his opinion last week, when he first brought it up, so he stayed silent now. The others all offered their own silent negatives.

"Then, on to the next order of business."

Chapter Text

Their personal goodbye had been done in private this morning, at home, and had been steamy enough they'd needed showers afterwards. Something Tony had considered when he set their alarms the night before. Driving through the early morning traffic of their usual commute had felt different, and the jeep thrummed with a muted tension.

Tony firmly kept his jaws clamped, and any last minute pleas for Daniel to stay were locked behind his teeth, never to emerge. He knew why Daniel needed to go, and agreed with the logic they'd worked out early on, but that didn't stop him from wanting to cling to his soulmate and demand he not leave his side. Tony wasn't that kind of controlling, however, and he was not going to make this last morning harder on Daniel than it needed to be. He could maintain until Daniel was gone, and then he would focus on his own job to get him through the next few months.

They had checked in easily through security, Tony greeting Washington and Meadows by name, as he always tried to do back at NCIS. It paid to know people in low, high, and medium places, and Tony was already filling in his mental rolodex for the Stargate Program.

Now, he was standing demurely beside Jack and Sam as they each gave Daniel one more hug for the road. Nothing was said overtly, but Tony knew all of them were refusing to think that it might be the last time they did so. Intergalactic travel wasn't without its own risks, and Daniel was deliberately flying into a war zone.

Finally, Daniel stepped away from them, gave each of them a last smile, and then tapped his earpiece. "Colonel Caldwell, I'm ready," he said.

A moment later, his body was enveloped with light, and he vanished.

Having used the transporters himself earlier that week, Tony knew it was the Daedalus, not another ascension, but he still caught the tightening of Jack's jaw that said he wasn't okay with the sight. After a moment, Tony let out a long sigh.

"Well, I guess I should get to work," he said.

"I've got to go over Bill's notes for the remote dialing patch," Sam admitted, shifting slightly towards the door.

"I have to… run this place," Jack decided, after looking around at his office.

Tony snorted at his lack of enthusiasm for the prospect.

Suddenly, Sam darted in for a hug. "Don't be a stranger, Tony," she said, her voice a little watery. "I've still got loads of stories to tell you about when Daniel first started here."

"You should have seen the floppy hair," Jack chimed in.

Tony had seen it, in photographs, and he personally thought it was adorable, though Daniel also looked very handsome in his current style. "I will," Tony agreed, though he knew Sam would be busy with the Theta site issues before she had to report back to Area 51. Still, Tony would be traveling there for a recon soon, so he'd see her again, even if she ran out of time on this trip. "You know where to find me when you get tired of looking at stargate code."

Sam huffed out a little laugh, "Yeah, will do."

"Great, you kids do that. Out of my office." Jack said dryly.

Chuckling, Tony took the dismissal and left with a smart, military-precise about face. He had his own department to get back to anyway; one that was finally complete.

The next morning, Tony found himself standing in the front of his large courtroom, looking out at his people. Jace and Pamela had wheeled in a portable plasma screen, and that was being patched into Area 51's own courtroom — part of a decommissioned hangar. Another screen patched in the trio training as Agents Afloat in McMurdo.

As the screens flicked on, Tony took in all the faces — familiar now from his time going over each and every file — and then took in those in the room with him. His team was, at the moment, 100% complete, with over 90 people reporting to him across their three locations. He knew, once they established regular contact with Atlantis, that his complement would increase to over a hundred, with another agent and lawyer being added for each new ship that came out of drydock.

That wasn't even counting those above him, like Kendrick and Matthews or Director Morrow, who were also technically part of the SGSI. Tony continued to soak it all in as his people settled down, and once they were basically quiet, he grabbed his agenda and got started.

"Hello people, and welcome to our first meeting of the entire SGSI. I know some of you have only been here a week, while some of you have been embroiled in our insanity for a whole month, but let me take this moment to thank you all for joining up. I know that you all had different reasons, but at the heart of things, we found a group of people who weren't being properly represented by the legal and investigative services that they should be, and we asked you to step up. And step up you did.

"So I want to take this moment, first, to thank you all for dropping your lives and letting yourself get sucked into this top secret black hole, in order to give our service members, civilians, and allies the help they needed." Tony allowed a moment of silence, then got to his first order of business.

"Now, everyone should have their internal email, phone number, and business cards squared away. If you don't, talk to the head admin at your location. Your email should have included the organization chart for the SGSI, our contact list, and the basic handbook we have slapped together with regards to paperwork. Quite honestly, that's a mess, and will probably continue to be one for a little while," Tony admitted, getting chuckles around the room.

"Because of the way the SGSI was initially organized, all of us still belong to our prior agencies, if we had one. This means that technically you should be filling out a redacted form of your normal paperwork to send back home. In practice, we are developing our own forms, which will be filed with Director Morrow at Homeworld, and he will be responsible for a summarized — and heavily redacted — form being sent to your old bosses. That means figuring out what the FBI, or DoD, or NCIS needs to know is his job, and we can just get on with things here.

"As you all know, your initial employment contracts were for a year. I've been given permission to tell you that the powers that be are hoping that, by the end of that year, the SGSI will be its own, independent agency, under the auspices of Homeworld. At that point, when your year is up, you'll be encouraged — though not required — to transfer to that agency. You'll keep all of your federal benefits, and your commission if you have one, but you'll no longer have to worry about former bosses without clearance attempting to harass you, as our NCIS contingent has, or requesting un-redacted versions of your paperwork, as the CIA has, or whatever else we encounter over the next year."

That also got a few chuckles and groans, as Tony had been anticipating. The CIA's interest in the sudden flux of people joining the SGSI was not unexpected, and thankfully Tony hadn't had to deal with it himself, but had neatly lobbed it over the fence into Tom's lap. He knew all the movers and shakers in Washington DC, and would know how to get the various agency directors off their backs, just as he had with former Director Shepard.

"That said, this is all very future information, just for you to let percolate for the rest of the year. Just know that we will be switching to a unified, SGSI set of forms, and that any contact from your former bosses should be kicked up the chain to myself, Kendrick, Matthews, or your JAG equivalents ASAP, alright?" He got scattered nods and agreements, including from the groups on screen, so Tony nodded and moved on to the next thing on his agenda.

"The next request came from multiple angles, which is why I am addressing it today. I had inquiries about the number of treaties that Earth had established, wanting us not to fall afoul of any rules or regulations we should be following. So, I am pleased to announce that those records have been delivered in a harddrive format. Jace has assured me that he and Pamela are able to get them into some kind of searchable database ASAP, and then all of you can read them at your leisure. And yes, we have everything, going back to the first Protected Planets treaty from the Goa'uld summit with Nirti, Cronus, and Yu, through to what the IOA has been doing under wraps regarding Atlantis, the Battlecruisers, and anything else they might be up to. Happy reading." He knew it wasn't just legal who was interested in those documents; the investigators needed to know what might be considered a crime under one of the many treaties in place, and many of his technicians wanted to know if there were specific records they should be keeping. The IOA stuff was especially going to come into play once they formed their teams for Atlantis, but even the battlecruisers fell into a gray area on such things.

"Now, going off world," he said, causing an expected rustle of excited noise. "After speaking to some of you, and the powers that be, a decision has been made. All investigative agents and lawyers, regardless of their assigned location, will be doing the same training through the stargate on how to navigate offworld. This is because at any time you might rotate to a different team, or be brought in to substitute for an injury or illness, and we might not have time to train you at that moment.

"Now that the emergency rush on the Daedalus has been taken care of, we have time to get back to our original plans. The investigators and lawyers will be going out to the Alpha site for a week at a time, in teams of eight, and Cynthia will be emailing you all a form to sign up for your preferred time slot. Bear in mind that you might not get your first or second choice. Someone has to be in the last group, after all. There will be a final group, composed completely of our MEs and forensics technicians, who will be getting their own version of training for working offworld at the Gamma and Delta sites. There are two time slot options for that, but since there are less than 8 of you, it will be a simple majority rule.

"Here's where things get tricky; everyone else needs to attend a one day training session on how to evacuate to the Alpha and Beta sites. This is something that will be included in the week long training, but is necessary for everyone working in the stargate program to know. Since that can be done with much larger groups of two dozen, it was decided that this will be done first, in two batches, to get as many people as possible familiar with evacuating before settling into the specialized trips. So yes, boys and girls, that means that all the admins, clerks, and technicians are going offworld first. Feel free to gloat."

That got him chuckles, and a loud laugh from Abby, and nicely defused the tension of who would get to spend more or less time seeing an alien planet. He also knew that some of their 'dignitaries', like Kendrick, Matthews, and their JAG leaders would also be part of their own evacuation drills, though on a much fancier, VIP version. "As a point of interest, we are apparently on our third Alpha site, second Beta site, and first Gamma site. The less said about Delta's designation as a former plague planet, the better. I have no idea if there have been other letters that I'm unaware of, but I suspect there have been, as we recently added a Theta, which is a little further down the list. Suffice to say that the evacuation drill is something I want all of us to take seriously, since it is apparently a very real necessity." And there he went adding a whole new kind of tension to the room.

"Next, we have quite possibly the most important announcement, which is in regards to healing. Medical got back to me yesterday, after having to bump everything in favor of last minute work for the Daedelus, and I've agreed to go over it with you all." They'd asked if he'd been willing to talk about his own medical issues, and Tony had reluctantly agreed. If his people saw that he wasn't insisting on sucking it up and ignoring his health, then they might be more open to accepting help themselves.

"For this, we need a little story time. As most of you know, I am here by way of NCIS. What many of you might or might not be aware of is that, almost six months ago, there was a biological attack on our main office in Washington DC: the Navy Yard. A disgruntled woman who thought we had ignored her daughter's case — we hadn't, by the way — sent a bioengineered, antibiotic resistant, form of the pneumonic plague to our office. Now, our mail checking systems have since been improved, and I've been assured that the Stargate program has similarly beefed up security. The reason I'm telling you all this is that one agent was unfortunate enough to catch that plague — me."

He expected the gasps and murmurs around the room from those who hadn't been at the yard, or not yet heard the scuttlebutt from those who had, and gave them a moment to get it out of their systems. "While yes, I have recovered to field ready status, my lung function has been permanently decreased, and there are a few other long term problems that have the potential to build up in the future. At least, that was the case before I joined the Stargate program. And here's why I'm sharing this with you. The program has access to alien technology that is capable of feats of healing that regular human medicine can't hope to compare to."

Tony held up one hand to forestall any comments. "I have been assured that they are doing their best to make what they can available to the public as quickly as possible, given the paper trail of testing and trial runs and regulations and whatnot that they face. But the long and short of it is that some stuff will just never be ready for public consumption until this entire thing has been declassified. That means that you are one of a very small number of people who has access to these treatments, and now that Medical has the time, they're offering.

"There is apparently a brochure, which will be emailed to all of you shortly, that lists what you can go and pick up from the infirmary from their 'almost ready for the real world' line. But some things are more limited than that. I've been instructed to tell you about two of them. The first is for relatively minor problems. A bit of scar tissue that bothers you; a trick knee; that back you throw out every year trying to hang the holiday decorations; etc. This hand device can be used by two people on base in Colorado, and one in Area 51, as well as some of our allies who stop in from time to time. If you have an issue of that nature, it is simply a matter of booking time in Medical when one of those people is able to come use the device. As such, their policy is to form a group of people who need assistance and do them in one big batch, to cause the least disruption to the work of those doing the healing.

"The second option you have is one I've been assured is safe, even if it might skeeve you out a little. For those who've been going through the records, you might have found reference to a planet where the people lived for exactly 100 days, at a highly accelerated rate of growth. This also affected the SG teams who visited the planet, through ingesting a kind of nanobot. Medical figured out how to reverse the process and get our people back to the age they should be, and that is the version you're being offered now. If your minor aches, pains, and arthritis are age related, or if you just want to knock a few years off your crows feet and laugh lines, you are all eligible to have a nanobot treatment that again, I've been assured is completely safe and will not turn you into the cryptkeeper.

"Finally, there's the big guns, and this is where my lungs come into it. For systemic problems like cancer, or for problems with severe damage, such as my lungs or an amputation, they have a more radical option called a sarcophagus. Full disclosure, repeated use, to the tune of a dozen times, can lead to sociopathy and other forms of insanity. Good news, extensive testing showed that three or fewer uses over a lifetime were well below those limits. The science and medical teams have also apparently been tweaking the thing since they got it back in year one, and have raised that number to five lifetime uses without any hint of mental issues. The treatment only takes a few hours, after which you will be entirely healed, good as new. Any other minor problems will also be taken care of at that time, so for example I won't need to use the hand device on my bad knee or gunshot scars, because they will be healed at the same time as my lungs.

"Therefore, you've all been given clearance to talk to Medical at any time about signing up for any and all treatments. You will also be able to requisition some of the less impressive stuff from that catalogue coming your way; for example, uber strength bruise balm to keep in your gym bag and home medicine cabinet. Things like that. I've also been informed that the medics can, at their discretion, sometimes offer help to immediate family members — especially spouses and children — but you'll need to talk to them on a case by case basis. So, once we're done here, you're free to look into your options." Tony allowed himself to relax slightly, now that that part was over. He really didn't like talking about the plague, or the function of his lungs — especially around people who needed to see him as capable and competent, not compromised — but Doctor Lam hadn't been wrong when she pointed out that the others would follow his lead. If he wasn't obvious about using the treatments offered, then those who knew of his history would think there was a reason, and be wary of using them themselves. He wanted all of his people to be at 100%, and if that meant disclosing his own weaknesses temporarily, he'd do it.

Now, on to the next thing on his neverending list.

Tony relaxed as he sank into the chair in his office. His people were all at lunch, so he was hiding in here instead of in the bullpen to get a little time to himself.

The meeting of the full SGSI had gone well, and there had been a lot for Tony to go over with them. Some of it probably could have been handled in department head and SSA meetings and allowed to trickle down to the rest, but part of Tony also wanted to see his people. He was, as the SAC, responsible for this group of nearly 100 people, and he owed them his attention. They needed to know who he was, what he was like, and that he was open to their needs.

His friends and those he had worked with before knew that, of course, and he was making inroads on the first comers and department heads. But there were others, people here on the recommendation of a friend of a friend, or those who were simply following a name and a promise, who needed to know who's hands they'd placed their lives in.

They lived in a world where they now knew what lurked in the far reaches of space, where evacuation drills to other planets and magical devices that healed you and turned you evil were now a part of their reality. Anyone would be shaken by that, and they needed to see their leader as a real human, caring whether they lived or died or got a snake in their brains. At the same time, they needed to see him as competent and in control, someone who would get them through any rocky starts and safely out the other side.

It was just like having probies, in a way, only he had a hundred of them. Not that they needed him to train them like a probie, but they needed him to be the SFA: to take the hit from above, and to protect their six even when they didn't know they needed it. That's why he wanted the full group meeting, instead of allowing the SSAs or department heads to pass down his notes. He'd probably keep doing it on a quarterly or semi-annual basis, depending on how bad their caseload got, just to keep in touch with everyone. Tony didn't want to turn into one of those bosses who stayed aloof and was viewed as unapproachable.

It had been easier to handle when he had Daniel to go home to each night, but that was something else that Tony needed to be strong about. He wasn't the only one who's soulmate was heading out on the Daedalus, or who was already in Atlantis. And the SGSI weren't the only ones to send a soulmate off to war without knowing if they'd ever come back.

Still, Tony needed this time, hiding in his office with his lunch, to decompress from the stress of his meeting, of saying goodbye to Daniel yesterday, and to coming back to a dark, empty house last night. He was proud of the SGSI and what they were accomplishing, but he needed twenty minutes to himself, before he had to put on his boss face and go be the best SAC he could be.

A knock on the door had Tony looking up, just as Jack opened it and poked his head inside. "Jack?"

"We got a call from the Theta site; they routed someone there who wanted to talk to us."

"Okaaay."

"Well, more specifically she wanted to talk to Daniel," Jack said, voice thick with amusement. "I thought you might want to come see this."

Tony quietly bit back a sigh as he abandoned his lunch and grabbed his gear. It looked like he wasn't going to get those twenty minutes, and he suspected that might become the norm around here. Still, he wouldn't change anything about the last two months, or joining the SGSI, even if it did mean that sometimes aliens interrupted his lunch break.

"Alright, what've we got?"