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Chapter Text

“Agent Jackson,” the white-haired man called from across the gym. 

When Percy looked up from the punching bag he was attacking, the man gestured him over. He stilled the bag and took off his wraps as he walked over to him and stood at attention. “Yes, Sir?”

The man half-smiled and said, “At ease, Marine.”

Percy relaxed, bringing his hands back to his front, and said, “You’re Gibbs, right? What can I do for you, Sir?”

“You’re working my case, Jackson,” Gibbs announced. “Starting now.”

------

Percy followed Gibbs into the bullpen. He was still in his workout clothes and his tanned, scarred arms were still on full display.

“Sir,” he tried again, dogging along after Gibbs, who hadn’t explained anything. “I don’t understand. I’m just a probationary agent.”

Gibbs ignored him again and instead began fiddling with his computer, focused enough to bother with the technology.

“Agent Gibbs!” Percy shouted, shocking everyone in the bullpen. The rest of Gibbs’ team, who until that point had attempted to be surreptitious, began openly staring after he dared yell at the most fabled and frightening man in NCIS.

“Sir,” he corrected himself at Gibbs’ sharp glare. “I would like to know why you assigned me to your case. I’m as green as can be, and your team is the best. Why am I here?”

Finally, Gibbs said something, “You’re a Marine Corps Captain. Upon entering the Inactive Reserves, you joined NCIS and broke every physical fitness and combat training record FLETC had. While in the Marines, you were written up for mouthing off to a superior officer enough times that it almost cost you your promotion.”

Percy glared, and it was almost as chilling as the Gibbs’ stare.

“But that’s not why you’re here,” Gibbs continued. He pressed a key and an autopsy photo of a wrist with a dark brand of the letters ‘SPQR’ followed by a simple dove and ten lines. He came around the desk and grabbed Percy by the arm, who jumped but didn’t pull away. “You’re here because the first time you were written up, it was for this brand being exposed. The same brand that that dead Marine has.”
Percy pulled his arm back, exposing his similar brand of ‘SPQR’ followed by a trident to the rest of the team, and stared at the image on the screen. “Is that Michael Kahale?” he asked.

“Yeah,” one member of Gibbs’ team, a nerdy-looking blonde man, said. “Petty Officer Michael Kahale was stabbed to death last night at 0200 hours.”

The nearest chair to him was Gibbs’ desk chair, and Percy sat down heavily in it. He rubbed his hands down his face and sighed. “Di Immortales. Michael was a good guy. What happened?”

“We’re still figuring that out,” another man said, offering his hand. “Tony DiNozzo.”

“Percy Jackson,” Percy supplied, shaking his hand.

A blonde woman walked around her desk and asked, “How did you know Petty Officer Kahale? I’m Ellie Bishop.” 

Since everyone around him was standing, Percy stood too. He absent-mindedly fiddled with his wedding ring as he explained, “We went to the same summer camp when we were teenagers. The branding was a rite of passage.”

“What kind of summer camp lets kids brand each other?” Ellie asked, mildly horrified. 

Sheepishly, Percy said, “A poorly disguised reform camp with basically no adult supervision.”

Getting back on track, Gibbs demanded, “When was the last time you spoke to Kahale?”

Percy took a minute to think before saying, “My last leave before entering the reserves. So... six months ago? We were both visiting camp. I mean, we weren’t really friends, but he was a good guy and I respected him.”

“Why were you visiting a summer camp?” DiNozzo asked, leaning back against Gibbs’ desk. “You’re what, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six.” He looked even sadder as he said, “They were having a memorial service for a kid who went to camp with us.”

“Where were you last night at two am?” McGee asked sympathetically.

“Oh, wow,” Percy said, realizing that they had to eliminate him as a suspect. He nodded and said, “I was actually here, down in the gym boxing. There’s bound to be security footage.”

Gibbs said, “There is. I saw it.” Everyone looked at him, but he didn’t say anything else.

“So that’s why Gibbs let him on the case,” McGee said with a look of understanding.

Percy shook his head and turned serious. “Do you have any leads? Where was he stabbed? Does his father know?” 

And they went to work.

------

It was an ex-boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend of Michael’s fiancé had stabbed him. At camp, they’d always said it would take a Laestrygonian to take Michael down, but in the end, all it took was an angry man and a drunken ambush. 

“Jackson,” Gibbs barked as he strode through the bullpen. 

Percy was holstering his side-arm and throwing his duffle over his shoulder as he said, “Yes, sir?”

“I’ll see you here at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow,” Gibbs said. 

Surprised, Percy asked, “But Sir, isn’t the case over?”

“I’m sure we’ll have a new one tomorrow,” Gibbs said as he entered the elevator. As the doors closed, he added, “And it’s ‘Boss.’”

------

The next morning when everyone arrived, there was an extra desk in the bullpen pushed up against Bishop’s.

“What’s with the desk?” Tony asked as he came in.

McGee sat down at his own desk and said, “I don’t know.”

With a great clattering, Percy ran into the bullpen, holding a cardboard box and duffle bag. “Oh cool,” he said, setting the bag and the box down on the new desk. “I’m not late.”

“I should hope not,” Gibbs said as he walked in, making Percy jump and Tony laugh.

Bishop walked off the elevator and saw Percy at his new desk. “Oh, are you joining the team?”

“That’s what I’ve been told,” he said with a smile. 

“Ooh,” Tony sang at Bishop. “We’ve got a new probie, Probie.”

Bishop smiled at Percy and said, “Guess we can share the jobs no one wants.”

Grinning back, Percy said, “Guess we will.”

He began setting his things on his desk. It was the basics, a stapler, and pencil cup and the like, and also a few photos. One was of Percy with a middle-aged Samoan woman, a man with salt and pepper hair, and a nine-year-old girl. Another was him and a different blonde woman on their wedding day, and the last one was Percy when he was in middle school with another boy, who hadn’t been fully in focus in the photo.

Tony came up behind him and snatched the wedding photo off his desk. Percy whipped around, but Tony just turned the photo back towards him and said. “So you’re married? Who’s the lucky lady?”

Percy smiled and took the photo back. “Her names Annabeth. She’s amazing.”

“Ah, young love,” Tony crowed. “Still starry-eyed and head over heels.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Bishop asked. “Jake and I have been married for eight years.”

Taking a moment to do the math, Percy said, “We’ve been together for ten years, but married for four.”

McGee came over and joined the conversation, asking, “So you guys were high school sweethearts?”

“Something like that,” Percy said.

Gibbs interrupted their ‘gossiping with the new guy’ time and said, “Less chit-chat, more case reports.”

Tony spun back around to his desk and said, “Welcome to the joys of paperwork, Probie.”

------

The first time Gibbs tried his signature slap on Percy, it went badly.

He and McGee were messing around at McGee’s computer when Gibbs came up behind them and slapped the back of both their heads.

Before anyone else could react, Percy grabbed Gibbs’ wrist and spun around, twisting it painfully.

“Oh my god!” Percy dropped Gibbs’ wrist like hot coals and backed up. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you, boss.” He was horrified and incredibly apologetic.

The rest of the bullpen, not just the MCRT, was staring. They were galled that someone had dared to lay their hands on Gibbs.

“Jackson-” Gibbs began sharply while holding his wrist, but Percy cut him off.

“I’m sorry.” He backed up, fleeing to the stairwell and down to the basement.

------

Dr. Donald Mallard entered his lab with a spring in his step, ready to prepare the unfortunate Petty Officer Kahale for his journey back home to Hawaii. Much to his surprise, there was already someone in the lab.

A young man in a blue t-shirt and khakis was standing in front of Kahale’s drawer.

“Hey, Michael,” he said. “It’s Percy. I know we never really were friends, but you’re the person here I’ve known longest, and I’m sure you would understand. Those wars messed all of us up.” He stopped and pressed his forehead against the cool metal cabinet. “I think I ruined a good thing.”

“I’m sure it can’t be as bad as you think, my boy,” Ducky said, announcing his presence and walking over to his desk. “You’re Perseus, aren’t you? Gibbs’ new probationary agent.”

Percy jumped and turned around, but relaxed when he saw it was just the doctor. “Oh! Yeah, that’s me. You’re Doctor Mallard, right?”

“Call me Ducky,” he insisted. He sat his bag down and began unpacking for the day.

As he walked over, Percy said, “I hope I wasn’t intruding.”

“Not at all,” Ducky assured him. “I come down here just to talk to them all the time. What is it you think you ruined?”

“Oh...” Percy trailed off, looking guilty. “I kind of attacked Gibbs.”

This surprised the ever unflappable Ducky. “What on earth do you mean?”

Percy looked even guiltier and wouldn’t meet Ducky’s eye. “He slapped the back of my head, which I guess is something that he does. And I just reacted and grabbed his wrist and twisted it.”

Ducky laughed.

“Well, it took long enough for someone to do it!” He chuckled. “He’s been doing that for years, and it was only a matter of time before someone took offense.”

Percy nodded cautiously and said, “Okay, but I think you still get fired when you hurt your boss.”

Ducky scoffed and said, “If he tries any such nonsense, I’ll ream him a new one.”

With a smile, Percy said, “Thanks, Ducky.”

------

When Percy walked back into the bullpen, Gibbs was at his desk.

“Agent Gibbs,” he said, striding towards him.

Gibbs looked at him coolly and said, “Yeah, Jackson?”

“If you fire me, you’re wrong.”

Still, Gibbs showed no visible reaction. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Percy said resolutely. “If you read my file before you hired me, you know that I have PTSD. You surprised me and hit me. You should have expected that reaction.”

The rest of the MCRT was gobsmacked. Not only had Percy attacked Gibbs, but he was now telling him off.

After a long moment of staring, Gibbs said, “I was never going to fire you. When I choose someone, I expect them to stick around. Are you going to stick around?”

Percy smiled and said, “Yes, Sir.”

------

Percy met Abby the second day after he joined the team for good. He had heard so much about her and how nice she was, so their first meeting came as a shock.

“I don’t like you,” she announced when she saw that it was him walking into her lab.

Taken aback, Percy stopped in his tracks and said, “What?”

“You hurt Gibbs,” Abby explained, crossing her arms and staring at him. “So I don’t like you.”

Immediately, Percy’s guilt returned in full force. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. He just surprised me and I reacted.”

Abby glared at him skeptically. “You really didn’t mean to hurt him?”

“Of course not,” Percy implored. “I didn’t know it was him. I just got hit and then I was back in a war. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”

For another moment Abby stared at him. Then she cried, “You poor thing!” and wrapped him in a sudden hug. 

She squeezed him tightly, and he felt a little like a deer in headlights before he hugged her back, not quite as tightly. After a moment, she pulled back and said, “Okay, I like you.”

Percy smiled and said, “Thanks, I like you too.”

Chapter Text

They were all idly doing paperwork in the bullpen when Tony asked, “So, Percy, what do you do in your time off?”

After taking a moment to think, Percy said, “I swim mostly. I also volunteer at a summer camp some weekends. My wife’s working in Paris right now, so it’s been quiet lately.”

“What do you do at the camp?” McGee asked from his desk.

“I’m a combat instructor. Mostly historical fencing, but also some hand to hand and knife fighting.

“Wow,” Bishop said. “That’s a hardcore summer camp.”

Tony spoke up and asked, “What’s historical fencing?”

“Sword fighting,” McGee answered excitedly. “You really teach sword fighting?”

Percy nodded and said, “Yeah, I do. I’ve taught for ten years and have been fighting for around fourteen.”

“You have to show us,” Ellie said. “You know that, right?”

Smiling, Percy said, “Sure, I’ll bring my sword in some time. If you guys want, I can bring in some practice swords and show you the basics.”

McGee grinned like a kid on Christmas and said, “That would be the coolest thing ever.”

------

This case had been horrible.  A sailor was found dead next to an ad hoc fighting ring, inside of which was a dead child. The sailor had been shot, and the boy, barely thirteen, had been stabbed.

The MCRT traced the fight to another location in Anacostia, but someone had tipped off the ring leaders about the raid and all the team found was another boy. Thankfully, this one was alive.

Both Gibbs and Tony had tried to talk to him, but the poor kid hadn’t said a thing. They thought he was about fourteen, but he was so malnourished that he looked younger.

Tony walked out of the interrogation room and into observation. “I’m not getting anywhere, Boss.”

Percy, who had seemed especially perturbed by this case, spoke up. “I think I can get through to him.”

“Have you ever interrogated someone before?” McGee asked skeptically.

“Not off the battlefield,” Percy admitted. He looked at the sullen middle eastern boy on the other side of the glass and said, “But it can’t hurt to try. And I’m conversational in Arabic.”

Gibbs nodded and said, “Can’t make him talk less. Go ahead, Jackson.”

“Okay,” Percy said. He went into the interrogation room and did his best to appear nonthreatening, which was a feat for him.

“Peace be upon you,” he said in Arabic, using the traditional greeting. The kid looked up, which he hadn’t done before.

“Did we really not try Arabic yet?” Bishop asked from the observation room. She began translating for the others.

Percy sat down across from the boy and said, “I’m Percy. I know you’re probably scared, but you don’t have to say anything, okay?” 

The boy looked at him suspiciously, because even though he didn’t speak English, he knew that the others had been trying to get him to talk to him.

“I’m just going to tell you about something that happened to me when I was fourteen, which I think is about your age,” Percy explained.

When Ellie translated that, everyone shared a confused look.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked, but no one had an answer.

Percy waited a moment before speaking again. “When I was your age, I had to fight somebody. Another kid.” He took a moment for courage and noticed the kid listening. “The people making us fight, they said that if we didn’t, they’d kill us. Either one of us kills the other, or we both die.”

“What the hell?” Tim asked.

Tony frowned and said, “I mean, he has to be making this up, right? It’s just a story for the kid to relate to?”

The kid was staring at him now, and Percy continued. “I didn’t want to, but we were trapped and didn’t have a choice. There were so many people watching, and I couldn’t run away.”

“He is making this up, right?” Bishop asked dubiously. No one had an answer.

“I guess the other kid, Ethan, was braver than me or more desperate because he attacked me first.”

Percy stopped again and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It was a solid ten seconds before he started talking again. “I won.”

“Oh, holy shit,” Tony said.

“I didn’t kill him. I wouldn’t.” Percy said. “The guy in charge, Neleus, was furious, and came down into the arena to kill me.”

“I killed him instead.”

“Damn, Jackson,” Gibbs whispered.

For the first time, the kid spoke. “What happened?” He asked quietly.

“Me and Ethan escaped while everyone was distracted with Neleus,” Percy explained. “We got away, but while I went home, Ethan went back.”

“Why did he go back,” the kid asked.

Percy tilted his head and considered, “I’m not sure. I think maybe he thought he would get in trouble if people found out what happened and what they made him do.”

“Would-” the kid stopped himself from crying and tried again. “Would he have been in trouble?”

“I don’t think so,” Percy said.

The kid took a moment and asked quietly, “Will I be in trouble?”

“No,” Percy said firmly. “If you tell us the truth, then you won’t be in trouble for anything they made you do.”

The kid nodded and said, “Okay,” but still looked scared.

“What’s your name?” Percy asked kindly.

“Yosef,” the kid responded. “Yosef Al-Saleem.”

Percy nodded. “Okay, Yosef. Can you answer some questions for me?”

Tony quietly said, “Damn. The probie did it.” 

Percy slid a photo of Corporal Saunders in his blues across the table. “Did you know him?”

Nodding, Yosef said, “Jacob. He helped me in Kuwait. He tried to sponsor me to come to America.”

“What was he doing at the fight?” Percy asked.

“I don’t know,” Yosef said. “He had never been before, but I do not think he came to watch. He was angry. He called for me and tried to come in the ring, but men stopped him. He tried to fight them, but one of them shot him.” Yosef started to cry and said, “They made us finish the fight, or they would shoot us. I- I killed my friend because one of us had to die!”

Slowly, Percy slid an autopsy photo of the dead boy across the table. “Is this your friend?”

Yosef nodded and sobbed harder. “Wakim Jazeera. I killed him!”

Percy hurried around the table and crouched next to him with his arms outstretched. Yosef threw himself into Percy’s arms and sobbed into his shoulder. Percy held him and rubbed his back until he cried himself out.

Once Yosef wore himself out, Percy helped him put his head down in his arms and put his own jacket around the boy’s small shoulders like a blanket.

He walked out of interrogation and braced himself for an onslaught before entering observation. 

“What the hell, Perce?” Tony demanded. 

“Yeah,” Bishop agreed. “Was that story true?”

Percy grimaced and said, “I was kind of ignoring the fact that you could hear me.”

“That’s not an answer,” McGee pointed out.

With a sigh, Percy said, “Yeah, that was true. With some details left out.”

“Details like what?” Bishop asked.

“Details like Neleus was my older half brother,” Percy said sharply. He turned to Gibbs and asked, “Am I good to take a break and call my wife, Boss?”

Gibbs nodded and said, “Take a few hours. If we need to talk to Yosef again, we’ll find you.”

“Thank you,” Percy said, and then promptly fled.

------

“Hey, Wise Girl,” Percy said when his wife picked up the phone. 

She answered with a smile in her voice. “Hi, Seaweed Brain. What’s up?”

“You know, just bringing up old trauma that I thought was overshadowed by other trauma,” he said with a strained nonchalance.

Her voice turned worried. “What happened?”

“Our case right now is tracking down a human trafficking ring that specializes in forcing kids to fight to the death. So, naturally, I felt compelled to bring up Neleus and Ethan in the labyrinth. Turns out I’m not over that.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Annabeth said sympathetically. “No one expects you to be. Are you sure this new job is good for you? I know you needed a change from the Marines, but I’m worried about you.”

He smiled and said, “Thanks, but I’m going to stick it out. After all, no one else was making progress, and without me maybe we wouldn’t have convinced Yosef to talk to us.”

“Don’t martyr yourself. You’ve done enough of that in your life, we both have,” she said firmly.

“I won’t,” he promised. “How’s Paris? Is redesigning Notre Dame everything you hoped for?”

Annabeth lit up and gushed, “It’s amazing! Right now I’m trying to convince them to add solar panels and proper housing for the bees.”
“Of course you are,” Percy said fondly.

They talked to each other, and with every word he felt the weight of the day lift. They would get justice for Yosef, Wakim, and Jacob Saunders, and Percy would be okay.

Chapter Text

The first monster attack during Percy’s tenure at NCIS came at a bad time. He and Tony were chasing a suspect through DC alleyways, and they split up to cut the weapons thief off. Percy was about to catch up with him when suddenly he was tackled and slammed into a side street.

It must have been amusing to Williamson, to hear a grunt and a thud, and to look back and see the agent on his tail gone without a trace.

Percy hit the cracked pavement and rolled away from the claws slashing at his throat.

“Jackson,” the familiar, batlike woman hissed at him.

Jumping to his feet, Percy pulled out Riptide and pointed it at her. “Alecto. I thought me and Hades were cool these days?” Would he ever not be fighting Mrs. Dodds?

“I am not merely a slave to that tyrant!” Alecto raged. “I am here to kill you for my own honor!” She lunged and swiped at Percy again, but he merely darted to the side and cut off the offending hand. Apparently, she and Hades were not cool these days.

As Alecto sputtered in rage and pain, Percy asked, “How many times have you tried to kill me in the last fourteen years? I’ve honestly lost track.” And did her kidnapping him that one time count? He figured that taking someone to the land of the dead counted as a murder attempt.

Too overcome with fury to verbalize, Alecto launched herself into the sky, splashing Percy with black ichorous sludge from her shiny new stump. She dove back down at him, intending to pick him up with her taloned feet.

Percy, having learned from his encounter with gryphons all those years ago. ducked out of the way. He held Riptide above his head and it plunged into her side as she frantically tried to back wing to avoid the blade.

“And it always ends the same way,” Percy said as she dissolved into golden dust.

He took a moment to shake the dust out of his hair like a kid after a haircut before heading back to the alley the suspect ran off down. There was no trace of the man.

He really hoped Tony had caught him.

------

“Where the hell have you been, Jackson?” Gibbs demanded when Percy finally found them ten minutes later.

Sheepishly, Percy said, “I tripped, and he got away, then I got lost.”

“Well, it’s lucky you have a very special Senior Agent here to pick up your slack,” Tony said. He pushed Williamson into the back of his car, now arrested and handcuffed.

Percy smiled gratefully at him. At least he hadn’t ruined the arrest. He turned to Gibbs and said, “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“It better not, Probie,” Gibbs agreed sternly.

———

They had gotten everything wrong.

Not only had the dead sailor ‘in the wrong place at the wrong time’ been lured out to the docks and executed, it turned out that he was part of a ring of smugglers that snuck everything from drugs to people into the country.

Percy and Tony were checking out a warehouse by the docks when it went from bad to worse.

The lights were off and the smell of the fishing boats outside did nothing to help the horror movie atmosphere. Tony was not happy.

He and Jackson had split up to cover more ground when the door opened.

Tony couldn’t see the door, but he could hear a whole troupe of people walk in. Just what they needed.

One set of footsteps came to a stop, and the rest did a beat after.

“Hey,” one voice said. He had a subtle Appalachian accent and sounded like he smoked a pack a day. “Someone was in here. Split up and see if they’re still here.” He was clearly the boss.

Tony ducked back behind a shelf as a group of men walked past. He needed to find Percy and get them out of there.

“There he is!” Another man shouted. Shit, this was bad! They were an hour from backup and outnumbered at least five to one.

He heard a gunshot and rushed out of his hiding place and over to where he had heard it. He did not need the probie getting shot.

Percy crouched on the ground behind a desk chair and, honestly, you’d think a Marine could find half-decent cover. Five men had him cornered against the wall, and all of them were pointing their guns at him.

“Federal Agents! Drop the weapons!” Tony shouted. The men turned to face him and pointed their guns at him, so Tony shot one of them center mass.

Percy stood up and shot one man in the chest and wrenched his gun away. He moved like a whirlwind, punching people and ripping guns out of their hands. A second man knocked his gun away, but it didn’t phase Percy, who kept fighting without hesitation.

Tony ducked back behind another shelf as a man shot at him, then darted back out to fire another shot. As he moved back behind his concealment, he felt a gun against his head.

“Drop it,” the boss said. Yeah, definitely Appalachian and he definitely smelled as much like a smoker as he sounded, with long brown hair and a trucker hat.

Tony raised his hands, and the man took his gun from his pliant hand. “You’re in some deep trouble,” Tony said cautiously. “You’ve got a federal agency on your trail now.”

“Shut up and walk,” the man said, pushing him forward with the muzzle of the gun.

Tony stepped out from behind the shelf and saw Percy outmatched ten to one. And winning. He had taken a discarded gun from the floor and was alternating from shooting at the smugglers and beating them into submission with quick dodges and well-placed blows. Gibbs might say they didn’t make Marines like they used too, but that might not be a bad thing.

“Hey! You want him to die?” The boss called. He grabbed Tony by the back of the collar and moved the gun to the side of his head, showing it off to Percy. Oh yes, Tony’s favorite game: hostage.

Percy looked over and paused, and that hesitation was enough. The surrounding men quickly took his recently acquired gun away and forced him to his knees.

“Don’t shoot him,” Percy said. He raised his hands, showing he wasn’t a threat. The self-sacrificing kid would get them both killed if he turned belly up that easily.

Tony looked over his shoulder at the man behind him and said, “Killing us will just guarantee you never even make it to jail, bub.”

“Shut up,” the boss said. He looked at Percy and ordered, “You, get out your handcuffs.”

Percy looked at him suspiciously and slowly complied. He pulled his handcuffs off his belt and held them out in front of himself. Another smuggler, this one a stout redhead, took them from him.

“Cuff him,” ordered the boss.

Percy swallowed, not liking the turn of events, and said, “Hey, you don’t need to do any-”

Another man punched him across the face and Percy grunted and took the blow, barely swaying. He looked over at Tony with a gun still against his head and didn’t fight back, letting them cuff his hands behind his back.

Tony jumped forward, but the boss pulled him back by his jacket and shoved the gun harder against his head. “Cool it.”

The boss gestured two men over and said, “Same deal, cuff him.”

Tony let them handcuff him because the gun was still on his head and this seemed like the best chance of survival for them both. He didn’t understand why the smugglers hadn’t already shot them. It wasn’t like they were worried about gunshots; it was practically a shooting range already.

The boss shifted his grip to have an arm around Tony’s neck, and he bristled at the indignity. He didn’t appreciate getting dragged around like a rag doll, thank you very much. More men came over to join them, bringing the grand total of still standing bad guys up to fifteen.

“Hey, tough guy,” the boss said to Percy. “You fight them and I’ll shoot your partner here.”

Gritting his teeth, Percy said, “I get the picture.”

The boss grinned and said to the group of bruised and bleeding men. “Well, he can’t fight you, he’s a Fed, and he just killed our friends. Have at it.”

“Wait—” Tony said, but the boss cut him off by smashing the butt of his gun into the side of his head. That many angry men would kill Percy. It was practically a lynch mob.

A cheer went up among the assembled smugglers, and Percy sent Tony a panicked look for a moment before he forced himself to relax. He looked detached from the world, and it frightened Tony. He hadn’t seen that look since he, McGee, and Ziva were being interrogated in Somalia.

The men attacked Percy, kicking and hitting him. Percy stayed upright for as long as he could, but before long they shoved him over to his side, where he curled up to protect himself as best he could.

“Stop it!” Tony shouted. He lost sight of Percy in the flurry of people, but he could hear every blow. “You’re killing him! Stop!” The probie was practically a kid still. He was younger than Bishop even and, damn it, he didn’t deserve to die this way.

The boss laughed and said, “He killed their friends. Both of you killed my men. Honestly, what did you expect?”

Tony thrashed and fought against the man, ignoring the gun against his head. He had to help Percy. His partner was over there getting beaten to death.

“Cut it out!” The boss barked, but Tony ignored him and slammed his head back, smashing the man’s nose.

“You fucker,” he said, throwing Tony to the ground. Blood was dripping from the man’s nose, and Tony grinned fiercely at the small victory. With any luck, he’d choke on his own blood.

Tony kicked at the man’s legs and he jumped back. The boss pointed his gun in the air and pulled the trigger. Everyone jumped at the sound of the gunshot, and the beating finally stopped.

“If he’s not dead, load them both on the boat,” the boss ordered.

Tony caught his first glimpse of Percy and sucked in a breath. Percy was lying on his side and breathing roughly. Blood dripped down his face from various places where his skin had split open. Based on the hitch in his breath, his ribs were injured too, and there were doubtless other injuries beneath his clothing.

“Perce,” Tony called, but Percy said nothing. He didn’t even acknowledge that he had heard him, instead squeezing his eyes shut. Did he have a brain injury? Tony had seen enough bodies of men beaten to death to know that it only took a few good hits to the head to kill someone.

Two men grabbed Percy by the arms and hauled him to his feet. His eyes snapped open, and he made eye contact with Tony before schooling himself again. They tried to make him walk, but his legs wouldn’t hold his weight and he sagged in their grip.

As they dragged Percy off, two other men forced Tony to his feet. He thrashed against them and followed Percy with his eyes. “Jackson!” He shouted. “Percy!”

“Shut up,” one man said as they started frog-marching him out the door. He turned to the boss and said, “What’s the plan, Garret?”

The newly named Garret said, “We hold on to them until I decide if I want the hassle of killing two feds.” Oh, there would be plenty of hassle either way. Tony would make sure that Garrett never saw another day as a free man.

They forced Tony out the door, where he saw a boat waiting in a private slip. It was a trawler, maybe a hundred feet, complete with deep-sea fishing nets and ample space in the hold to store smuggled cargo and prisoners. A boat like that could slip into any port in the world, and no one would bat an eye. Just more fish to sell.

Two men dragged Percy up the gangplank, and Tony was made to follow. They were patted down and had their phones and weapons confiscated. Next, they were led below deck and down a hallway past various crew cabins until they were in the room closest to the prow. If they escaped, they would have to pass everyone else aboard. When they escaped.

The smugglers had changed the room into a cell, with a large lock on the door, a chemical toilet, and two jugs of water in one corner. It was bare metal on the walls and textured steel on the floor, with no creature comforts in sight. The people that this crew smuggled probably spent long weeks caged up in here.

Percy was thrown inside, and Tony was shoved in after him. The door slammed shut behind them, and Tony heard the lock thud shut. It was a deadbolt, so there would be no picking it.

First things first, he kneeled next to Percy said, “Perce. Are you all right?”

Percy grunted and nodded. He came out of the trance he had put himself in and said, “I’m not actively dying.” That was a relief at least.

“Well, you look like you are,” Tony said, trying and failing to lighten the mood. He scooted back and curled over, bringing his hands under his legs and out to the front of him. Now that his hands were in front of him, he could start to do something. Anything.

“Thanks, man,” Percy said tightly. He groaned and sat up with significant effort then settled back against the wall. He looked around the room and said, “Can you get me a drink? That’ll help.”

Tony nodded. “Sure.” He fetched one of the jugs of water and held it up for Percy, letting him take a long drink.

Once he pulled it away, Percy sighed in relief. He did look better, not so deathly pale as before. Tony noticed that the cuts on Percy’s face had stopped bleeding.

“How’d you do that trance thing?” Tony asked, awkwardly setting down the jug with his bound hands. “You seemed totally calm while those guys were attacking you.” He’d only seen Ziva manage that, but she was practically a machine.

Percy shrugged, winced at the motion, then said, “That wasn’t the first beat down I’ve taken. Consider it a finely honed skill.”

“I’m just slowly unlocking parts of your tragic backstory, aren’t I?” Tony asked jokingly. Reform camps, fighting rings, what didn’t this kid go through?

Suddenly, they both felt the world jerk as the boat started and began pulling out of port.

“Well, this just gets better and better,” Tony griped. The farther they got from shore, the harder it got for them to get back.

Percy closed his eyes again for a few moments before saying, “We’re heading southeast.”

“How do you know that?” Tony asked. He couldn’t feel which way they were going, just that they were moving.

“I’ve spent the last four years of my life on a ship,” Percy explained hesitantly. He looked like he had let a secret slip, but his odd body language was probably an attempt to not show the pain he was in. “You get a feel for it.”

Maybe they trained Marines differently these days because Tony had never met anyone else who could do that. But it wasn’t a priority, escape was.

“Oh, I’m an idiot,” he said abruptly and started patting down his ankles.

“Why this time?” Percy joked. At least they hadn’t beat the humor out of him.

Tony fished in his socks until he pulled out a small key triumphantly.

Percy sat forward and asked, “Is that a handcuff key?”

“Yeah, it is,” Tony explained. Finally, something went right today. “The one time it matters, I forget that I started keeping a spare key in my shoe. I keep getting handcuffed on this job, and I figured I’d be prepared for the next time.”

He tried to unlock his cuffs, but he couldn’t reach the keyhole with his hands trapped. Damn.

Noticing his struggle, Percy suggested. “Why don’t you unlock me and I’ll unlock you?”

“Good call,” Tony said. They could do this. Nothing like a little teamwork.

Percy leaned forward, taking a sharp breath as he did so, to give Tony access to his wrists. Tony went over to him and inhaled sharply at the sight of Percy’s left arm. His hand was hanging oddly, and some of his fingers were obviously broken. Yet more reasons to hurt these guys right back.

“Is it that bad?” Percy asked with a grimace. “It hurts like a bitch.”

“I’m sure a little TLC will get you back to normal in no time,” Tony said. He hoped it would at least. It looked bad enough he figured it had to need surgery, but he was no doctor.

Doing his best to avoid hurting Percy, Tony unlocked the handcuffs and freed his hands.

Percy brought his hands back to his front and held his left hand against his stomach protectively. He took the key from Tony and unlocked him with his uninjured right hand.

“Do you know why they took us instead of just killing us?” he asked, leaning back against the wall again.

Tony shrugged and said, “The guy in charge, Garret, said he was deciding whether he wanted to deal with the hassle of killing two federal agents.”

Percy grimaced. “Then we shouldn’t wait around for him to make up his mind.”

“Probably not,” Tony agreed. He looked Percy over, who while maybe he didn’t look half dead anymore, he still looked at least a third dead. “Are you gonna be up for a jailbreak?”

Nodding, Percy said. “Yeah. Just give me a few minutes.”

They settled down to wait for Percy to get his strength up, and before long the ship started rocking. A storm was heading in and it was going to be a rough one.

Tony looked over at Percy, and he was looking strained and queasy. “You all right?” He asked.

Percy nodded and said, “Yeah. Just sea sick.”

“Sea sick?” Tony asked. Sea sick? “You’re a Marine, for crying out loud!”

Laughing, Percy said. “Yeah, I am.” He sat up and nodded. “Okay, I think I’m ready. We need to get them to open the door.”

“Leave it to me. You just sit there looking like your half-dead self,” Tony said.

He stood up and banged on the door. “Hey! We need help in here! My partner’s dying!” He kept pounding and shouting, “He needs a doctor! Or a first aid kit or something! Help!” He didn’t expect help, but he could be supremely annoying when need be.

Angry footsteps echoed through the steel floor as someone walked down the hall. As he opened the door, a smuggler said, “Would you shut the hell--”

Tony slammed his shoulder against the door as soon as it was opening, hitting it into the man’s face. He punched the man as he was still reeling and knocked him down for the count. Over his shoulder, he saw Percy standing up, ready to fight.

Together, they went into the hallway where more smugglers were coming out of the various rooms. The space was too cramped for anyone to use a gun, thankfully, so it was the two of them against five smugglers. The longer they stayed trapped in this hallway, the more would come, so they had to act fast.

Percy moved in front of him and by god, this guy fought like a hurricane. He leaned back and kicked one guy, knocking him into the one behind him, sending them both to the ground.

Another man swung at Tony, who ducked and punched him in the stomach before kneeing him in the balls. Clearly, their victim had been the only member of the smuggling ring with any military training. The rest had to have learned their moves in bar fights and Jackie Chan movies.

When a man grabbed Percy’s injured wrist, he shouted in another language and twisted around, grabbing him with his other hand. He heaved himself forward and flipped the man over his shoulder, slamming his head into the ground at a painful angle on the way down. He didn’t get back up.

Tony hit another man in the neck before slamming his head into the door behind him. It was a small bit of payback.

With all five men taken care of, the two agents raced out of the hallway and up on deck.

The storm was in full force, and the ship rocked heavily as tall waves broke over the barrier. Where had this come from? The sky had been clear before, but now they were practically in a hurricane.

Two men saw them as they emerged from the hold and shouted. As they moved toward Tony and Percy, a swell came over the side of the ship and crashed over top of them. The water washed one overboard and smashed the other against the railing hard enough to knock him out. That was lucky.

He and Percy hurried along the deck as the two men they hadn’t fully incapacitated followed them out of the hallway.

“Five down, ten to go,” Percy shouted over the roar of the storm.

Now that they weren’t in such confined quarters, Tony grabbed a gun off the unconscious man’s belt as he passed. He turned around and shot the two men chasing them. “Eight!” He yelled back. Normally, each man he killed bothered him. Even the murderers. But he wasn’t feeling very generous today.

The fight continued. The other men came at them from all sides, and somehow Percy kept fighting through the rain and his pain.

Tony took down three more men before one shoved him into the railing just as a tall wave came over the side. He looked up at the water and prepared himself to be swept over the side when the ship rocked suddenly to one side and the wave missed him and took down another smuggler. Mother nature was really on their side today.

Percy had gotten ahold of a knife and slashed a man across the chest at the same time as he kicked another overboard. A man tried to grab him from behind, but he turned around and sank the knife into his stomach.

That was the last man attacking them, but Garret was still a threat. They could see his silhouette in the helm. One window opened, and he shot down at them with a rifle.

Tony ducked behind a tarp-covered pile of cargo next to Percy. He darted out of their concealment for a moment to grab the radio off a smuggler he had knocked unconscious.

He changed the frequency to the Coast Guard’s and said into it, “This is NCIS Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. I need you to put me through to NCIS Special Agent Gibbs, or failing that CGIS Agent Borin. We have been abducted and are under attack with an injured agent, and we do not know don’t our location.”

“This is Captain Richards,” a man said over the radio. “We’ve heard your distress and are putting you through to NCIS. Do you have any way of finding your coordinates?”

“I know our coordinates,” Percy said. He took the radio and told them to Captain Richards then said, “We’re on a blue ninety-five-foot fishing trawler called the Cumberland. There are several hostiles on board, and all but one have been incapacitated. They will need medical care and the men overboard will need rescue.”

As Percy said this, another wave came over the side and washed away a rack of life vests. The waves were practically listening to them at this point.

Richards said, “Got it, Agent. We’re sending ships your way. I’ve got NCIS on the other line, and we’re putting you through now.”

Gibbs’ voice came through the radio. “DiNozzo? Jackson? What the hell is going on?”

Tony took the radio back and said, “We were ambushed, boss. We’re on a ship and have taken down all but one suspect. Jackson’s hurt, and we’re pinned down.”

Percy poked his head up to see if Garrett was still at the helm, and the answering gunfire told him so.

“Was that a gun?” Bishop’s worried voice came over the radio. “Is Percy okay?”

Taking the radio, Percy said. “I’m fine. The worst thing is a broken wrist that I don’t plan on dying of anytime soon.”

“What’s your location?” McGee asked. Based on the number of people on the other side of the radio, the rest of the team were in MTAC.

Percy told them and said, “The Coast Guard is already on the way. We drove an hour to get to the port and we’ve been underway for almost half an hour. They’ll get here before you guys can.”

The storm was dissipating, and the boat was rocking less violently already. It was like the storm rolled in just long enough to give them a cinematic fight scene.

From above them, Tony heard a door slam shut. He raised a finger and said, “I think Garrett’s coming.”

“Crap,” Percy said. He held his knife at the ready, and Tony checked that his stolen gun had bullets. It did. Now he liked their odds. Two against one is something he could work with.

“On the count of three, let’s split up and find him. Otherwise, we’re sitting ducks,” Tony said. When Percy nodded, he held up his hand and counted to three on his fingers.

On three, they each dashed out of their hiding spot and to opposite sides. Tony ran from cover to cover, trying to get a line of sight on Garrett.

He heard gunshots to his right and turned around, gun at the ready.

Percy crouched behind a tackle block, holding another gun he’d taken. He stood, fired at Garrett, and ducked back down. The shots missed, but Garrett whipped around and turned his gun on Percy’s hiding spot. There was no cover on this damned ship, only concealment. That tackle block had a hundred places where bullets could come through.

As Garrett turned, ready to shoot Percy, Tony aimed his gun at the man and pulled the trigger. Garrett fell with two bullets in his back. Tony wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over him.

A horn cut through the dissipating rain and Percy stood as a Coast Guard cutter ship came into view on the horizon.

Tony went over to him and clapped him on the back. “And that big boat home.”

“What’s that from?” Percy asked tiredly. He looked exhausted and ready to keel over now that the fog of battle had lifted.

Clapping his hand to his heart and staggering back, Tony gasped, “You haven’t seen Saving Private Ryan?”

Chapter Text

An hour and a half later, a Coast Guard helicopter touched down in the Navy Yard. Tony and Percy stepped out, ducking under the blades and running over to where the rest of the team were waiting.

Abby pounced on Tony, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re okay! You and Percy just went missing and then the Coast Guard calls us saying you’re on a boat! And hurt! And you were kidnapped.”

“I’m fine, Abs,” he assured her. “We both are.”

Pulling back, she looked over at Percy, who had his arm in a sling and butterfly bandages on his forehead. “No you’re not,” she insisted before hugging him tightly too.

Percy grunted in pain and she drew back and said, “See!”

“The Coast Guard doc fixed me up before we left,” He explained, holding out his slinged-up left arm and showing her the cast on his hand. “Even set the broken bones. I promise I’m not dying.”

Abby glared at him for a second longer before nodding. “Fine. I believe you.”

“I want Ducky to check you both out before I believe that,” Gibbs said.

“I knew you cared, Boss,” Tony said. He wrapped Gibbs in a dramatic hug, and McGee laughed.

Gibbs shook his head and let Tony hug him. “I care that you don’t fall over dead in the middle of a case, DiNozzo.”

“Don’t let him act all tough,” Abby said. “Gibbs is a big old softie deep down.”

“Really deep down,” McGee added.

———

Tony and Percy sat next to each other on an examination table in Ducky’s lab.

“This sure is a cheerful doctor’s office,” Percy joked.

Ducky smiled and said, “Well, most of my patients don’t mind.”

Tony laughed. “I’m sure they don’t.”

“Either of you lads prefer a private exam?” Ducky asked.

“Depends,” Tony said. “Are you going to make us take our pants off?”

“Only if you have any leg injuries,” Ducky explained.

Tony shrugged and said, “I’m good.”

Percy looked at Tony and said, “I guess you’ll unlock more of my tragic backstory.”

“Shirts off then, gentlemen,” Ducky said.

Tony unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders, while Percy pulled off his t-shirt with one hand and some difficulty.

“Jesus Christ, Jackson,” Tony said, gawping at his teammate.

Percy’s torso was covered in forming bruises, as expected, but also in scars. He had long gashes, small cuts, and even splotches of burns all over.

He looked at Tony and shrugged. “The scars on my arms aren’t unique.”

“You weren’t kidding about it not being the first beat down you’ve taken,” Tony said, still staring. How did someone even get that many scars?

Ducky pulled out his penlight and said, “I’m sure you have some stories to rival mine.” He flashed the light in Percy’s eyes, making sure he didn’t have a concussion. He asked a couple more questions and prodded at a few bruises before stepping back and clapping his hands.

“Well, my boy, you don’t seem to be dying,” Ducky said cheerfully. “However, I want you off active duty for at least a week. We can reassess your ribs then and see about getting you back to work.”

Percy groaned. “Really? A whole week?”

“Careful that I don’t make it two,” Ducky chided. He turned to Tony as Percy slumped in annoyance before straightening back up in pain. Ducky did a brief exam and declared Tony fit for work, much to Percy’s envy.

Percy must have noticed Tony’s curiosity, because he rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. You can ask me about three scars. I know you’ll pester me all day if I don’t tell you something.”

“Really?” Tony asked. He pulled his own shirt on and walked over to Percy.

Percy shrugged and said, “Go ahead.”

“Uh...” Tony said, looking at Percy’s various and sundry scars. He had to pick some good ones. Deciding on the first, he pointed at a pink, puckered one on his shoulder and asked, “What about that one?”

“Shrapnel from an ISIL bomb,” Percy said hollowly. “Me, another corpsman, and two Kurdish fighters got caught in the blast. One of the Kurds, a man named Behram, died. It looks nastier than it was. I didn’t even get sent home, just treated in-country.”

“Wow,” Tony said. We’re all these scars from combat? Surely not. He pointed at the star-shaped scar on Percy’s palm and asked, “This one?”

Percy flexed his hand. “Just a scorpion sting.”

“All right, last one. Gotta make it good,” Tony said. He poked a faded burn mark on Percy’s back.

“Man, I about forgot that one,” Percy said. “I got caught in the St. Louis Arch explosion when I was 12. That hasn’t gone away yet?”

“Nope,” Tony said.

“That’s three,” Percy said, throwing on his t-shirt. “Is your curiosity satisfied?”

“You’re a mystery, Jackson,” Tony declared.

—————————

The bar was a classic dive. The overhead lights were dim, but the lights around the menu and over the tables were bright enough to see a friend and a beer. It smelled of cheap whiskey and smoke, and Percy couldn’t help but think how well it suited their purposes.

He and Ellie were in a booth in the back, occasionally shooting glances at the group of men at the bar. They’d been having a conversation of tense nothings for ten minutes or so. Bills, groceries, the noisy neighbor above their apartment. Normal things. Then the conversation changed.

“How’d the job interview go, hon?” Ellie asked, voice raised to cut above the music. Someone at the bar turned his head at the louder voice.

Percy took a contemplative sip from his glass before admitting. “I’m not going to get the job.”

“The interview was this morning,” Ellie said, letting irritation seep into her voice. “How can you know that already?”

“Because they told me,” Percy explained, clenching his water tightly. “They said they liked me as a candidate until they did a background check.”

Ellie set her own drink down and said, “Well I just don’t know what to do. I can’t keep pulling your weight.”

“I’m trying! No one wants to hire me,” Percy insisted.

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have gotten a dishonorable discharge!” Ellie shouted at him, finally fed up. She stood and before she left, turned to say, “I didn’t make your choices. You did.”

She stormed out and Percy dropped his head into his hands, defeated. He stayed like that for a time, until he heard someone approach his booth.

“Hey,” the man said, “Are you looking for a job?”

———

“Meet William Martinez,” Tony said, pressing the clicker. A photo of a dead man lying in a warehouse appeared on the bullpen screen. “A former Seaman with an other than honorable discharge. The morning crew found him in the base logistics warehouse at 4:30 am this morning.”

Percy continued, “Time of death was 1 am last night, while the warehouse was supposed to be empty. The cause was a gunshot wound to the head from close range.”

“Someone turned his pockets out,” Ellie took over explaining. “But he had three baggies of powdered heroin stuck in his underwear. It’s safe to say he was involved in the flow of heroin on to base.”

McGee took his turn to brief Gibbs and said, “Martinez has no prior link to on-base drug operations before, but he has an extensive history of petty crimes since his OTH discharge. He has several known associates believed to be dealing.”

“Namely, Daniel Moore,” Tony said, summoning a mugshot of a tall, fierce-looking man with short, greasy brown hair. Daniel Moore was built like a truck, and even in his mugshot looked ready to fight. “He was dishonorably discharged from the Marines and served six years in Leavenworth for aggravated assault of a fellow Corpsman. He took a plea deal that brought it down from attempted murder. Metro knows he has a drug ring and thinks he’s moving dope on base, but they don’t have any solid evidence to bring him in.”

“They think Martinez was working with him,” McGee finished.

Gibbs nodded and said, “So Moore’s gang is down one member. He’ll be looking to replace him.”

“Are you saying we should send someone undercover?” Ellie asked.

“I’ll get my drug dealer outfit ready!” Tony said, clapping his hands together.

At this, Percy laughed.

“What?” Tony demanded. “I have the most undercover experience on this team.”

“Everyone in his gang is ex-military,” Percy explained. “You... are the opposite of military.”

“He’s got a point,” McGee agreed, stifling a laugh of his own.

Tony mimed pulling a knife from his heart. “Betrayed by my former probie!”

Gibbs gave him the classic ‘are you done?’ look and Tony straightened up. “Then who should we send, Boss?”

“Jackson.”

Percy snapped his head over to Gibbs. “Uh, Boss, I’ve never gone undercover. And I’ve never been able to blend in.”

Gibbs quirked a smile and said, “You don’t blend in here because you don’t look like a cop. You look like a criminal.”

“I don’t look like a criminal,” Percy tried, looking to Bishop for help.

Bishop grimaced and tilted her head, “Well, you’re pretty intimidating.”

“And you have all those obvious scars,” McGee agreed.

“I worked homicide in Baltimore,” Tony explained. “I arrested at least three dead ringers for you.”

Percy crossed his arms and said, “Wow guys, feeling the love.”

———

Daniel Moore, who told Percy to call him Dan, told him to show up the next night, and not to tell anyone where he was going.

“Peter!” Dan greeted Percy as he walked in. He raised his beer and beckoned him over warmly.

It surprised Percy how friendly Dan was. He had seen the man’s rap sheet and seen pictures of the Marine he beat half to death. It contrasted sharply with the effusive man before him.

“Hey, Dan,” Percy replied, joining him in the seat Dan pulled out for him.

Dan clapped him on the back, and Percy had to restrain himself from reacting. “This is Peter Johnson!” Dan boomed at the other three men across from them.

He tilted his beer at the thin blonde man to their farthest left. “Tom Collins.”

Collins raised his hand and nodded at Percy.

Dan pointed at the bald black man in the middle and said, “Joey Williams.”

“Hey,” Joey said curtly.

And on the right, Dan introduced, “Last but not least, Mike Perez.”

Mike, a tall Latino man, also raised a hand in greeting and said, “Hey, Pete. So you’re the new guy?”

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Percy agreed amicably.

“So we all heard your piece shouting at you about your dishonorable last night,” Dan said with a grin. “What’d you do?”

Percy ducked his head and said, “It was a Big Chicken Dinner, not dishonorable,” he clarified. “She never cared about the difference.”

“Do they ever?” Joey asked with a tinge of bitterness.

Dan chuckled and asked, “Well, what was the bad conduct that got you a Bad Conduct Discharge?”

Percy drummed his fingers and said, “I’m not proud of this,” he clarified. “But I... resold some of the base supplies. It’s not like anyone missed most of it.”

They nodded in understanding, and Mike said, “And it’s certainly not like they paid us enough.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dan said, raising his beer. “Oh, Pete. What’s your poison?”

Percy shook his head, “I don’t drink.”

Collins raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Nope,” Percy shook his head. “I’ll take a Coke though.”

“Putting a little rum in that Coke won’t hurt you,” Mike chided good-naturedly. “Live a little.”

“No thanks,” Percy insisted.

“Why do you need to stay sober?” Tom asked sharply, leaning across the sticky bar table. “Need to make sure your story is straight?”

“Uh, what?” Percy frowning in confusion. “I mean, I’m sure Dan will give me whatever story we need to keep straight.”

Dan glared at Tom and set his bottle down with a thud. “We discussed this last night, Collins. I told you to let me vet my guys. The last guy you vouched for turned out to be a damned thief.”

Dan’s switch from friendly host to harsh master was abrupt and jarring, and Percy was beginning to see how he could do everything on his record.

“Excuse me for wanting to know if the new guy is a fucking cop!” Collins spat.

“Do we need to take this outside?” Dan demanded, standing from the table and sending his chair back with a screech.

Collins stood too and asked, “Why doesn’t he give us a reason not to drink? Cause to me it sounds like an undercover cop keeping his wits about him.”

“Oh fuck you, Tom!” Percy said. He stood too and pulled the collar of his shirt aside to show a thick, jagged scar running along where his shoulder met his neck. “I don’t drink cause my alcoholic stepdad used to do shit like this to me!”

That shut them up. All three of them stared at each other for a moment longer.

“Damn,” Joey said. That broke the spell, and they sat back down.

“You’ll have to forgive my friend here,” Dan apologized. “He doesn’t know how to mind his manners or respect his betters. I presume you can at least follow orders?”

“Sir, yes sir,” Percy said, untensing slowly.

———

That night, Percy went to the cheap apartment where he and Bishop were staying and the rest of the team had set up shop.

He unlocked the door and walked inside, where Bishop and Tony were waiting with the surveillance equipment. The apartment across from the bar worked as both an undercover house and a surveillance position.

“Great job out there, Probie,” Tony greeted from the listening station. “The button mic picked up everything.”

Percy picked at his plaid button that contained a small wireless transceiver. “Thanks.”

“So I’m your ‘piece?’” Bishop asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh,” Percy made like a deer in headlights. “That was definitely Moore’s words, not mine.”

Ellie laughed and Tony stood from the table covered in technology to clap Percy on the shoulder. “A lesser agent would have hightailed it after getting accused like that, I’m impressed.”

Percy smiled and said, “Thanks.”

“Did we unlock more of your tragic backstory, or did you make that stepdad thing up?” Tony asked.

“Some of both,” Percy admitted. “Gabe was an asshole and the reason I don’t drink, but he didn’t give me that scar.” He pulled aside his collar again to show them the one he’d shown Dan’s gang. “I got that from a big ass bird.”

“Why did you get attacked by a bird?” Tony asked.

Percy shrugged and said, “I pissed it off during a hunting trip in Alaska.”

Bishop got them back on track, “So Moore said there’s a fifth man who will join you for the operation tomorrow. Do we have any clue who that is?”

“Another ex-military type with a history of drug dealing?” Tony suggested.

Bishop said, “Metro doesn’t have any other known associates of Moore that fit that description.”

“So this guy is either new too, or he hasn’t got caught yet,” Percy reasoned.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” Bishop said with a shrug.

———

On night three of the operation, Percy again walked into the dive bar where Moore held court.

Tom, Mike, Joey, and Dan sat at their usual table. Papers sprawled across the table in front of them.

“Pete!” Dan beckoned him over, and Percy joined them at the table, pulling out the rickety wooden chair to sit.

He sat and looked at the papers, which were floor plans and maps of various locations on base. “What’s up, guys?”

“Smoothing out the new plan,” Dan explained, gesturing at the mess on the table. “Since our old meet in the logistics warehouse was exposed, the new sale is going to be in the mess hall.”

The nonchalant way Dan discussed the murder of a former colleague sent a chill down Percy’s spine. His lack of passive aggression towards anyone present led Percy to believe Dan had been the one to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t be sure.

The door to the otherwise empty bar opened, and a gut-droppingly familiar face walked in. Casey Matthews, son of Venus and member of the third cohort. Someone who would definitely recognize Percy.

“Casey!” Dan called happily, beckoning him over to the table.

Casey came over and locked eyes with Percy and, damn, he recognized him. “Case,” Dan introduced. “This is Peter Johnson.”

Frowning, Casey looked between Percy and Dan, as if waiting for the punchline of a joke.

Percy acted.

“You son of a bitch!” He shouted, jumping up from his seat. He swung a sloppy punch into Casey’s jaw, taking him by surprise and knocking him back a step.

There was a chorus of ‘woah’s and ‘uh’s from the table, not sure how to react to this sudden fight.

Surprised, but not stunned, Casey swung back, hitting Percy in the ear. Percy masterfully maneuvered their fight to the back door and out into the alley where he slammed Casey up against the wall.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Casey demanded, “What the hell, Jackson?”

“I should ask you the same,” Percy hissed. “You’re smuggling drugs?”

“Apparently so are you!” Casey shot back.

Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m undercover, genius. One of those guys killed William Martinez, another member of this crew.”

“Woah, woah,” Casey said, eyes wide. “Will’s dead? Dan told me he got arrested.”

“Shot through the head.” He let go of Casey, who didn’t try to run, and quickly turned off his button mic. “If you have any loyalty left to either Will or the Legion, you won’t turn me in. You’re still in your ten years in the Legion, right? This sort of conduct is grounds for discharge and loss of safe haven. Word gets back to New Rome that you’re a drug smuggler and accessory to murder, and you’re looking down the barrel of life on your own against monsters.”

Casey swallowed. He was clearly a dumbass kid who didn’t think through the consequences of his actions. “Are you going to tell them?”

“Not if you cooperate.” He turned his button mic back on and said, “If you keep this between us, then I’ll field promote you to criminal informant, and you’ll be safe from prosecution. Obviously we know each other, and they’ll have questions. So the story, since we have the same tatt, is we went to camp together. Which is true. And I started this whole fight ‘cause you slept with my wife.”

Casey's eyes widened again at that, looking intimidated.

“Geez,” Percy said with a chuckle. “You don’t have to look so scared. I’m not talking about Annabeth. My undercover wife, Lizzie. Do we have a deal? Your silence for immunity?”

“Yeah, we have a deal,” Casey agreed, nodding slowly.

“Let’s go back in,” Percy agreed.

He went back into the bar first and Casey followed behind him.

“The hell was that all about?” Dan asked, torn between amusement and simmering anger.

“Me and Casey have some history,” Percy explained, sitting back down.

Casey improvised and said, “Look, I swear I didn’t know she was married until you walked in.”

There was an awkward silence before Dan doubled over laughing. “Pete walked in on you and his lady in the sack?” He demanded, shaking with laughter.

“It was like six months ago!” Casey defended. “I didn’t think he’d recognize me.”

Percy rolled his eyes.

Sobering up, Dan demanded, “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, sir,” Percy explained. “We worked out our differences.” He flexed his hand where he’d hit Casey, and Dan chuckled again.

“Well come on, let me explain the new plan,” Dan said, smoothing out the papers.

———

“Well, Perce,” Tony said, slapping a hand on Percy’s shoulder as he walked into the apartment. “Let it never be said that you can’t think on your feet.”

Percy was tired, but he grinned all the same. “Thanks, man.”

“How many people went to that camp anyways,” Bishop asked. She was sitting on the couch with McGee, who had come to relieve Tony.

“Uh,” Percy paused to do some math. “12 cohorts, 25ish kids each. Like 300 in any given year. And at least half of them wind up in the service, maybe more.”

“Damn,” Tony said. “Well, now that we know their plan, we should make our own.”

They got Gibbs on the horn and came up with their plan of attack.

McGee summed up, “So we’ll come in after the buyer gives Dan the money and take them all in.”

“The mess hall loading bay only has two regular entrances,” Percy said. “So it shouldn’t be hard to keep anyone from escaping if we keep the bay doors locked.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony agreed. He stood and clapped a hand on McGee's shoulder. “McStalker, you’re on surveillance duty while the happy couple gets some shut-eye.”

Percy looked at Bishop and asked, “Is that joke ever going to stop?”

“Knowing Tony? Never.”

———

Getting on base was too easy. Dan slipped the guard an envelope and he waved their car through. Percy noted the guard’s name because that was unacceptable. What if they had been terrorists instead of drug dealers?

After they were past the gates, getting into the mess hall was easy too. One of the side doors unlocked for them. Dan mentioned during their earlier meeting that he’d bribed a guy he used to serve with to leave it open.

The six of them, Dan, Tom, Joey, Mike, Casey, and Percy were well-armed, and Percy marveled at how much security had failed to let six men with guns onto base illegally. Each of them wore a backpack loaded with kilos of heroin and cocaine.

“You know, when I worked here I got the feeling security was a lot better than this,” Percy mentioned, looking around the loading bay. Their buyer should be there any minute now.

Dan grinned and said, “It’s amazing what a little money can do to open doors.”

The door opened again and a man walked inside. He was in his early twenties, Indian, and still in uniform. Private First Class Chandran, his name tag read.

“Moore,” Chandran greeted. “You got the stuff?”

“Depends, you got the cash?” Dan asked, and Percy had to hold back an eye-roll at the cheesy dialogue.

Chandran threw down the duffel bag he was holding, and Dan nodded at Casey, who darted forward and opened the bag. It was full of cash in fives, tens, and twenties.

Dan looked at it and nodded. He turned to his men and said, “Empty your bags and put the cash in them.”

Percy and Dan’s lackeys all crouched down to empty their bags, but Percy put a hand on his gun, knowing his team was about to come in.

Right on cue, the side and back doors burst open, and the MCRT and a dozen base police officers swarmed in.

“NCIS!” McGee shouted, leading several officers.

Dan’s eyes widened and he turned to Percy, who hadn’t opened his bag. He pulled his gun and pointed it at Percy’s head. “I should have known the new guy was a fed.”

Percy slowly stood, and Dan kept the gun in his face. “Nothing personal,” Percy said and, before the other man could react, smacked his wrist and wrestled the gun out of his hand. He pointed Dan’s own gun at him and said, “Federal Agents. Hands up.”

Dan raised his hands, and Percy could see the murder behind his eyes.

Chapter Text

Sword scene

For once, they truly had no cases that day. Percy came in with a giant duffle bag and slung it on his desk with  a grin.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Tony asked, setting aside his magazine.

Percy spun around and pointed at Tim, who looked up, confused. “You are going to love this,” he promised.

“What is it?” Tim asked, looking between Percy and Tony. He clearly expected this to be some kind of prank.

Percy dug in his bag and pulled out Riptide, brandishing it and swiping it in a few quick arcs.

McGee dropped both his stapler and his jaw. He stood up and rushed around his desk, staying out of cutting range. “Is that your sword?”

“Yep,” Percy said, rotating it so they could all see the angles of the blade. “This one is called Riptide. My dad gave it to me when I was twelve.”

Bishop stood and leaned over their conjoined desks, trying to see in the duffel bag. “What’s the rest of this for?”

Percy turned and opened the bag all the way, showing the other swords in it. “Practice swords. All dull and safe for melee.”

“Agent Jackson.”

Percy whipped around to see Vance standing at the railing by his office, looking thoroughly exhausted.

“Why do you have a sword in my office?”

“Um,” Percy said. “For alternative combat exposure?”

Vance asked, “Excuse me?”

“I’m teaching the rest of the team how to sword fight,” Percy admitted.

“Why?”

Percy shrugged and said, “Cause it’s fun?”

After another long moment, Vance chuckled softly and said, “Fair enough. Try not to kill anyone.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Percy agreed with a cheeky salute.

-----

Percy faced Gibbs, McGee, Bishop, and Tony on the mats in the gym.

“Alright,” Percy said, clapping his hands and grinning. He was truly in his element. “You’re officially in one of my sword fighting classes. So, welcome!”

Tim looked positively giddy, while Tony and Ellie looked moderately excited. Gibbs was stony faced as always. 

“I’m a tyrant about stretching, so get to it,” Percy announced, bending down himself to start stretching. 

The others all followed suit, and Bishop looked up to ask, “How long have you been teaching this?”

Percy pulled one arm across his chest and said, “Ten years. But four of those don’t really count, because of my tour of duty. I started when I was sixteen.”

“Wow,” McGee said, visibly struggling to stop a total geek out. “When did you learn?”

“A friend named Luke taught me when I was twelve, and you never stop learning,” Percy explained.

“What style do you know?” McGee asked. “Like medieval or chinese or what?”

“I’m good at Greek and Roman forms, and I tried learning some medieval European styles, but I never had anyone to practice with so I didn’t get very far,” Percy explained. He finished stretching and said, “Are you guys ready?”

When everyone replied in the affirmative, Percy turned and rustled through his duffle bag, pulling out a sword and showing it off. “This is a xiphos sword. Pretty standard post iron age greek blade.” He wrapped his hand around the blade and squeezed to demonstrate as he said, “We’ll all be using training swords with dull edges. I have a feeling Vance wouldn’t take kindly to any of us losing a finger. And I’m sure you guys don’t want to match me and all my scars.”

“Have you handled a sword before?” Percy asked. McGee raised his hand and Percy said, “Let me guess, you LARP?”

McGee was surprised and said, “Yeah, do you?”

Percy laughed at the thought and said, “No. But I’ve been accused of it before, what with the sword and all.”

They finished their stretching and Percy clapped his hands together. “Alright! Everyone grab a sword, try to find one with a good balance. It shouldn’t feel top heavy or strain your wrist.”

The rest of the team went to the table where Percy had laid out his collection of practice swords. Gibbs examined them all before taking one and testing out the balance, which seemed perfect. Tony and McGee both practically fought to grab the longest one, which Tony wound up getting, even though it seemed too heavy for him. McGee wound up with a decent mid sized one, and Bishop took a sharply curved blade.

“Everyone set?” Percy asked, and they all moved back to their places around the ring. “Alright, let’s see what you got.”

“I got the longest one,” Tony said proudly. 

Percy looked at all their swords and said, “Yep, you did. That’s a spatha, used by Roman cavalry. You might want to try a shorter one, that one doesn’t look balanced right.”

“I’ll stick with this one,” Tony said. “More reach is better right?”

“It can be an advantage, but isn’t fool proof,” Percy countered.

Next he looked at McGee, whose blade most closely resembled his own. “That’s a xiphos like mine,” Percy said, holding up his own. It wasn’t riptide, as he didn’t want to risk killing them if they were secretly legacies, or have it clip through them if they were mortals, but it was a good replica that he preferred for training. “Greek design, most common and versatile.”

Beside him was Gibbs, who had a solid, straight sword. “A gladius. Roman infantry sword, great for up close combat.”

And Ellie’s sword made him grin. “That’s an Athenian kopis. Suits you. The way that one curves, you can slash up close and fast or swing it with the momentum of an axe.”

“Great choices, let’s get to it,” Percy said. He showed them the basic movements, some slashes, thrusts, and parries.

“Remember, you want to keep me in your kill zone,” Percy said, demonstrating by swinging his sword in a wide arc in front of him. “If I’m too far away you can’t hit me, and if I’m too close you can’t defend yourself or get a solid hit. This is especially important if your blades are different lengths, because a smaller sword can beat a larger one by getting past their opponents kill zone.”

“Like a blood circle?” McGee asked.

“Yep, except more like a blood donut,” Percy explained. “Are you a scout?”

McGee nodded and said, “Yeah, are you?”

Percy laughed and said, “No. But I’ve taught enough scouts to learn that they always ask that.”

“Are we gonna talk or fight?” Gibbs asked.

“Oh I see how it is,” Percy said with a grin. “Alright, pair off. Tony and Gibbs, McGee and Bishop. Just try the various moves with each other. These blades are dull, but a hit still hurts and they can take out an eye, so be careful.”

Tony turned to McGee and said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can move up to the major leagues soon, McGoo.”

Percy just shook his head as his teammates squared off. They went through the basic movements, trading attacks and parries. Soon, the mismatch became clear. Both Tony and Bishop were outmatched.

“Tony,” Percy called as Gibbs batted Tony’s sword away. “You have the longer blade. Stop trying to get close. Your best moves are when you kept Gibbs at the end of your blade.”

McGee grinned triumphantly at Tony. Percy turned to him and said, “Nice job. I can tell you’re familiar with a sword, even if you keep slipping into the fake fighting you know.” Then to Bishop he said, “You’re doing good, just work on following through. You won’t kill anyone with that sword, I promise.”

“What about me?” Gibbs asked.

Percy looked at him appreciatively and said, “Move your grip lower, your thumb will cramp if you choke that close to the hilt. That’s about all I’ve got for you. Nice work.” He addressed the group and said, “Tony and McGee switch. This is too mismatched.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, offended, and McGee looked absolutely gleeful as he walked past Tony and said, “Don’t worry, you’ll move up to the big leagues soon.”

Bishop and Percy laughed as Tony spluttered.

“You guys are all doing great! This time try and spar,” Percy said. “You win by disarming your opponent or hitting them somewhere fatal.”

“Now, don’t worry if you can’t beat me,” Tony told Bishop. “I’m the Senior Field Agent, and you're a probie. No one will think less of you.

Bishop rolled her eyes and said, “Let’s go, Tony.”

Gibbs grinned at McGee, surprising everyone, and said, “Show me what you got, McGoo.”

“Go!” Percy shouted, and the pairs began. 

It was far from a clash of the titans, and most of the middle schoolers at camp could put them to shame, but Percy was impressed with his team. McGee and Gibbs were pretty well matched, with McGee’s experience compensating for Gibbs’ skill. However, he’d lose that advantage pretty quickly. Tony and Bishop, on the other hand, were more lopsided. 

Again Tony fought with bluster and bravado and not a lot of precision or skill. Percy had seen the man do incredible things with a gun and hand to hand, but a sword seemed to turn him into a blustering fourteen year old. Bishop was doing well, starting to get her confidence and a handle of what her blade was good for.

When Tony got too close, Bishop easily sidestepped his thrust, turned in, and brought down the edge of her curved blade onto his extended wrist like an axe.

“Damn it!” Tony cried, dropping his sword as his fingers went numb.

“You just lost your hand,” Percy explained. “Bishop wins. Awesome work.”

Tony mumbled about how it was bull crap as Percy turned his attention to Gibbs and McGee. He reassessed his earlier assumptions.

McGee had some raw skill, and his role play experience seemed to actually be hindering him, because he tried fancy, impractical moves that he no doubt saw in a movie. Gibbs, on brand as always, used the moves he was taught efficiently and effectively. He kept McGee in his kill zone, advancing and retreating only when he needed to, and kept himself well guarded. When McGee tried some anime-esque spin move, Gibbs took the opportunity to step in and hit him square in the solar plexus.

“McGee is down!” Percy called, throwing up a hand as McGee staggered. A blow like that would knock the wind right out of you.

“I’m impressed guys,” Percy said to the group. “You all did really well for beginners.”

Bishop and McGee beamed, while Tony grumbled and Gibbs nodded appreciatively.

“I’m especially impressed with you, Boss Man,” Percy said. “Care to go head to head? I’ll even go easy on you.”

Gibbs hefted his sword and walked forward. “Go easy on me and I’ll fire you.”

Percy still went easy on him.

They squared up and McGee called the start.

Right off the bat, Percy swiped at Gibbs, making the man lean onto his back foot to parry the blow and throw it off to the side. Gibbs responded with a thrust of his own, which Percy danced away from in an arc. 

Using his new position, Percy thrust at Gibb’s side, but again the man blocked it. They traded blows, few of them landing and never landing true. Percy backed off a couple times, giving Gibbs an opportunity to take the offensive, instead of keeping him on the defensive. Gibbs came within a couple inches of, if the blades had been real, taking Percy’s head off.

The younger agent grinned, and shifted modes. He advanced lightning fast, whapping Gibbs’ shoulder with the flat of his blade, making his grip weaken. Then, when Gibbs raised it again, Percy caught his sword in Gibbs’ hilt and did a familiar maneuver to disarm him. He stepped in close and swept Gibbs’ feet as he threw his sword aside. 

Gibbs landed flat on his back with Percy’s sword at his throat.

“Woah!” Tony shouted. “Boss got beat!”

Percy pointed his sword away and offered his hand. “Good match.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes as he accepted the hand up. Once he was on his feet he said, “I ought to fire you.”

“Why?” Percy asked innocently. “I didn’t let you win.”

“If you hadn’t held back, that fight would have taken ten seconds,” Gibbs said.

Percy grinned and said, “More like five.”

———

Annabeth

Percy was practically floating as he came into work.

“Ooh, I know that look,” Tony teased, looking up from his paperwork. “Although, I probably shouldn’t be seeing it on a married man whose wife is in Europe.”

“Annabeth is getting back from Paris today, she’s finished with the Notre Dame redesign,” Percy explained, absolutely on cloud nine.

Ellie turned and asked, “Wait, that’s why she was in France? She’s redesigning Notre Dame?”

“Yep,” Percy said proudly. “She’s not the head architect, but she’s one of the number twos on the post-fire design. Annabeth is the best architect alive.”

Tony turned to McGee and said, “See? Disgustingly in love.”

“You’re just jealous,” Percy said as he pulled out his gun and put it in his desk drawer.

“Where are we on the home invasions?” Gibbs’ demanded as he strode into the bull pen, wiping away the good mood.

They all scrambled to their feet and McGee pointed the clicker at the TV.

“Same place we were last night,” McGee said as several crime scene photos popped up on screen. “Three houses on base have been broken into while the families were home and the service member was at work.”

Ellie took over and said, “The two gunmen wear masks and hit during broad daylight. One of them holds the family hostage on the couch while the other takes the valuables.”

“Last one was different,” Percy said as McGee pulled up a crime scene photo with a dead woman and teenage boy. “The wife was assaulted and the son was shot and killed, Abby’s reconstruction says he was probably trying to defend her. Then they killed the wife.”

“They’re escalating,” Tony explained. “Home invasions like this aren’t big scores, but they have huge risk. We can presume the assailants will only continue and keep dropping bodies.”

Gibbs asked, “Abby get anything yet?”

“No,” McGee said. “All we have is the bullet, a .22 you can buy at any Walmart, with no ballistics match. They wore gloves and didn’t leave fingerprints. Ducky might have better luck with the bodies.”

“Interview all the surviving victims again,” Gibbs said. “This wasn’t a murder before, just a robbery. Press them hard, see what else they can remember.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy agreed.

———

“Is there anything else you can tell us, Mrs. Vernes?” Ellie asked the red haired woman across from her. 

The woman was holding her toddler on her lap in the conference room, and looked shaken. “No. I- I can’t. They wore masks and gloves and what skin I could see looked white.”

“These men have killed two people,” Percy implored. “Nothing? No weird accents or tattoos, nothing they said to each other stands out?”

Mrs. Vernes shook her head, but paused and said, “Well, now that you mention it. The one who kept us in the living room had a tattoo on his neck. Barbed wire, or maybe a vine, I think.”

“That’s very helpful, thank you,” Ellie said.

Suddenly Tony opened the door and said, “We got a report of gunshots at a home on base. 1493 Leahy Street.”

Percy jumped to his feet, eyes wide. “That’s my house,” he gasped.

“Oh my god, you said Annabeth is coming home today?” Ellie asked.

“Yeah,” Percy said, already racing out the door. “She didn’t call me saying she’s home yet, but why would there be gunshots in an empty house?”

Tony and Ellie followed him as he ran down the stairs to the bullpen. He pulled open his desk drawer and grabbed his gun.

“We’ve got gunshots at Jackson’s house,” Tony reported to Gibbs as he holstered his own gun. “His wife might be there.”

“Hurry,” Gibbs said, and Percy ran. 

———

Tony pulled the car to a screeching stop outside Percy’s house four minutes later. A perk of living on the same base you work was a short commute.

A cry of pain came from inside the house and they raced up the driveway. Tony took the back while Percy barged through the already broken front door.

“Annabeth!” He shouted, racing through the entryway.

He found her and the assailants in the living room. One man was lying still on the floor with a knife in his gut, while the other was pinned. Annabeth was kneeling on the man’s back, and used one hand to twist his hand behind his back and the other to grind the man’s face into the carpet. Her hair was mussed and she looked pissed, but she wasn’t hurt. When she heard Percy enter, she looked up and said, “Oh hey, sweetheart.”

Tony ran in a moment later, and lowered his gun as he took in the scene.

“You got handcuffs?” Annabeth asked, and Percy threw his to her. She clapped them on the man’s wrists and stood up, brushing her hair out of her face.

Percy holstered his gun and ran to her, pressing a kiss to her lips before wrapping her in a hug. “I was so worried,” he said. “We got the call and I knew you had to be home.”

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I’m fine. They barely got a hit in.”

“Still,” Percy said, still clutching her for dear life. He knew Annabeth was one of the toughest people alive, but he couldn’t shake the panic he’d felt.

Tony looked between Annabeth and the men laying on the floor. “Well, damn. I see why Perce is so head over heels.”

———

Tony called back to the office while they waited for an ambulance to come take the stabbed man to the hospital.

“Hey, Boss,” he reported. “Jackson’s better half is fine. She actually stabbed one of them and had the other pinned when we got there. I know, right? Why do you think I said better half? Got it.”

He hung up and turned back to Percy and Annabeth, who were still halfway hugging. “Boss Man wants Annabeth to come in to give her statement.”

“You take the guy who's not bleeding out, I’ll drive me and Annabeth in her car,” Percy said.

“Sounds good,” Tony agreed.

The ambulance and base police arrived. While the EMTs went inside to collect the injured burglar, Percy and Tony gave a brief explanation to the officers. It took a bit of badge waving, but they were able to leave to do their own investigation, and Percy and Annabeth left in Annabeth’s car.

Percy drove with one hand and took Annabeth’s with the other.

“I’m fine,” she reminded him. She pulled down the mirror and fixed her hair with her free hand so she looked less like she’d been in a fight. There was a red mark under one eye that would bruise, and she frowned slightly at it.

“I know,” Percy said. “But we’ve been after these guys for a couple weeks, and the last woman— well, it was bad.”

Annabeth squeezed his hand and said, “Well then I’m disappointed I didn’t stab both of them.”

That made Percy chuckle as he parked.

They went inside and as they stepped off the elevator, Abby bum-rushed them.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” She said as she ran up to them. “I heard what happened, are you okay? I’ve been so excited to meet you, but man I really wish it was under better circumstances. I’m Abby Sciuto.”

Annabeth laughed and said, “Hi, Abby, I’m Annabeth. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too. Percy told me a lot.”

“Good things, right?” She demanded of Percy, who raised his hands in surrender.

“Let them breathe, Abbs,” Gibbs ordered as he walked over. “Follow me.”

They followed him through the bullpen up to the conference room, where they sat down.

“Where are the others?” Percy asked.

“Interviewing the suspect and working with base police,” Gibbs explained. “Can you tell me what happened, Mrs. Jackson?”

“It’s Mrs. Chase,” she corrected. “But call me Annabeth.”

Gibbs nodded and said, “Can you tell me what happened, Annabeth?”

“Sure,” she said. “I got back early from the airport, and I wanted to surprise Percy when he got home. I was in the living room when they broke in, and I grabbed the knife I got in Paris from my bag. They had guns and told me to get on the couch.”

Percy squeezed her hand again and she looked over and reminded him, “I’m fine.”

“Then what happened?” Gibbs asked.

“Well one of them put his gun in my face, so I grabbed his wrist, disarmed him, and stabbed him in the stomach,” Annabeth explained matter of factly. This was hardly a novel experience for her. “The other one tried to shoot me, but I ducked and kicked his legs out. We grappled, and I got his gun away and pinned him.”

Gibbs nodded appreciatively and said, “Nice work.”

Annabeth grinned at him and said, “And then my knight in shining armor came in after all the fighting was done.”

“Hey!” Percy protested. “I’d have helped if you needed me.”

“I know, Seaweed Brain,” she said, patting his hand. “Do you have what you need?”

Gibbs nodded and said, “Stick around for a bit in case we need you again.”

“The house is going to be a crime scene for a while anyways,” Percy explained. “You can meet the rest of the team!”

“Sounds fun,” Annabeth agreed.

———

[there are supposed to be a scene or two here of Annabeth meeting folks]

------

Percy was happily watching Annabeth and Abby geek out in her lab when Tony poked his head in and gestured for him to come outside. He frowned and Tony mouthed ‘now,’ and jerked his head out the door.

Raising his hands in surrender, Percy followed Tony into the hallway. “What’s up?'' he asked.

Tony looked pained as he explained, “The hospital called. The guy that got stabbed- he died on the table.”

“Oh, okay,” Percy said. It sucked they wouldn’t get to prosecute him.

“I figured you’d want to tell Annabeth,” Tony explained, looking pained. “Killing someone, even in self defense, she’s probably going to be messed up about it.”

Percy reminded himself not to laugh. That would not be appropriate, so he put on his serious work face. “Yeah, of course. I’ll let her know, thanks.”

They went back to Abby's lab, and Annabeth waved them over.

“Abby was asking if you taught me knife fighting,” Annabeth said with a conspiratorial grin. 

This time, Percy did laugh out loud. “Uh, no, I didn’t,” he explained. “She taught me.”

“That’s awesome!” Abby cried. She abruptly turned and started digging through a drawer.

Tony gaped at them. “You took down like eight people with a knife on that boat!”

“Yep,” Percy agreed. “And Annabeth is better at it than me.”

Abby popped back up and whirled around, brandishing a knife. It was an intricate affair, with patterns carved into the black blade and silver skull pommel.

“Oh wow, that’s some mall ninja-“ Annabeth stopped herself and instead said, “It’s very pretty.”

[i have no memory of where else i was going with this.]

------

PLOTTING [the last bit i had plotted and not written]

• FBI Agents
• At one point they work with the FBI
• And one of the agents recognizes Percy. He worked his case when he was 12.
• Percy is kind of bitter. He did not appreciate being labeled a terrorist. And he guilts the guy a bit. Leans into the whole “treating a kidnapped twelve year old like a criminal so he had to save himself” thing.
• Gibbs knew about all this, but the team didn’t.
• “Jackson, like Perseus Jackson?”
• “It’s Percy. But that’s me. Why?”
• “I worked your case. Back when you were 12.”
• “Oh.”
• “You has an FBI case?”
• “You did a real bang up job of it, didn’t you? Does the bureau usually waste resources treating kidnapped kids like terrorists? Or do they always have to save themselves?”
• Damn son
• Fornell is there and a bit miffed. 
• Gibbs: “Kid’s got a point” 
• But after that they work together better.