Usually when people wanted Gibbs' help they would talk to his director or, hell, give him a call on his cellphone-despite the device being alien technology to him, he did know how to answer and end a call. So when Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was suddenly yanked from the warmth of his bed and crushed down against the floor of his bedroom with a knee pressing into his bare back. His arms were twisted behind his back and his view of his attackers was ended as a cloth bag was pulled over his head, the air becoming warm quickly as the older man tried to gather himself, attempting to figure out what was going on around him, quieting his breathing and straining his ears to listen. "You'll regret this," he said with a dangerously promising tone, speaking to whomever was listening to him, grunting as he was yanked up and shoved towards what he assumed was the door, the air feeling different as he stepped through.

He was surprised when they stepped outside. Why hadn't he heard the helicopter? He steeled his legs and was dragged and then shoved into the aircraft without any ceremony, getting a kick when he moved too much. Yes, someone was going to regret this

Jethro was NCIS-that was short for Naval Criminal Investigative Service for anyone that didn't know anything about anything. He'd just finished with his last partner and Gibbs had been working on a case by himself, one concerning an operative on the inside of the white house and he found himself wondering if this had anything to do with it.

They didn't travel long, which meant they were still in D.C. And when he was dragged from the helicopter, his head was pushed down to avoid the blades and he was shoved into a car, he could tell-it had that new car smell to it. He lay still along what felt like the back seat, trying to listen to the whispering he could hear coming from the front. Surprisingly he didn't feel the cold as he lay there waiting for what would come next-he thought about it a lot, trying to come up with a scenario that fit the situation he was in-what would come next?

It wasn't long before the car was coming to a stop, the door opening and the older man froze, anticipating rough hands yanking him out. But nothing happened.

"Sorry to use this kind of extreme, but we couldn't have anyone suspecting anything."

"...Boss?"

"Probie."

For some reason knowing that it was Franks didn't make him feel any more at ease, in fact the agent was readying himself for anything. But it wasn't long before he was helped out of the car and led over some grass-newly cut, the smell fresh and only stronger as they walked over it.

They were soon moving into a small building, the door clicking behind them as he was pushed to his knees on the wooden floor, the smell of dust everywhere.

"Close your eyes, Gibbs, that way you're not blinded."

Gibbs did as he was told and the hood was pulled from his head, his eyes shielded from the bright light, the older man letting his eyes adjust before he was opening them. His wrists were undone and he was helped to his feet, leaving the special agent looking miffed.

"What is this all about?" Gibbs growled at his former boss.

"We need your help, Jethro, we've-"

"You could have called," he said as they glowered at each other, the both of them always having clashed heads before. "I have a cellphone."

Mike Franks looked amused and he shrugged his shoulder. "Let's just say, I'm not very popular with the authorities right now, Probie."

Gibbs watched Franks as he paced in front of him, his hands tucked behind his back and Jethro found himself wondering that if he'd held them out in front of him right now, would they be trembling like he suspected they would be? Franks was getting too old for this, he'd gone through far too much and Gibbs was half afraid that his old friend was going a little mad from it all.

"I noticed you don't have a partner right now, so I found one for you," Franks told him seriously, just as the door in front of them flew open and a hooded, tied man was shoved down in front of them, rolling onto the wooden floor beneath him.

Tony DiNozzo's first thought when he was yanked out of bed and shoved onto the floor was that he had an angry ex that hadn't given him his key back. It didn't make any sense, though, because he hadn't given his key to anyone in months, he'd stuck to having one night stands, and that was only when he actually had the time for them. Things had been busy at work, which is why he hadn't bothered to find someone worth giving his key to.

"Whatever I've done I'm sure we can work it out," he huffed out before the bag was placed over his head. His hands had already been bound behind his back by that point, and he was only getting more and more confused.

Was this a kidnapping?

"Christ, DiNozzo, should've expected you wouldn't be decent," a gruff voice spoke-it almost sounded like his partner, Danny-before he was being jostled around, someone sliding what felt like boxers up his legs. It was definitely strange, but who was he to complain about being dressed when he apparently had an audience?

He tried to struggle away from the person holding him as he was dragged out of his apartment, his head reeling as he tried to figure out why his partner would be kidnapping him-or at least he thought it was Danny. He didn't have time to confirm that before he was being dragged out into the cold, the chill air being blown around by... a helicopter? That was so cliche. He could feel himself being shoved inside, the man following before the helicopter was taking off.

Having given up on trying to get away, since it obviously wasn't going to happen, he took the ride with ease, focusing on trying to figure out where they were going. It was impossible to tell without being able to see, especially when there was a car thrown into the mix. But before he could try and work it out in his head, the car had stopped and he was being dragged out into the cold again. They entered a building and Tony grunted as he was shoved to the ground.

"Good, you're just in time," Tony heard another male's voice say. It wasn't one he recognized. "You know, you didn't have to rough him up all that much once you got to this location.

"He can handle it, Franks," the man that had brought him here replied, and Tony confirmed in his head that, yes, this was Danny, Danny Price. But why? "Probably deserved it too. He's a good cop, but he likes to push his luck. Gets himself into trouble every now and again. I try and save his ass most of the time, though, the lucky bastard. He'd have gotten himself fired already if it wasn't for me."

It was then that Tony started to struggle again, his lip lifting in a slight snarl that went unseen. "Untie me!" he demanded, the words muffled by the bag, but still clear enough to be understood.

"And did I mention he was a little impatient?" Danny added with a scoff of a laugh, crouching down to undo the handcuffs around Tony's wrists. "Close your eyes or this won't be pleasant," he threw in, giving Tony only a couple of seconds before he was removing the bag from his head and backing away, worried that Tony would start swinging.

"What the hell is going on?" Tony asked, red faced and panting, obviously irritated with the situation. His gaze swept over the two men that he didn't recognize before settling on Danny, eyes narrowing. "Was there really a need for all that?"

"Had to be discreet," the slightly older man told him simply, shrugging one broad shoulder in an uncaring fashion, stepping aside in an offering, handing Tony over to Frank and Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs, let me introduce you to Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore PD, your new partner in crime," Frank waved his hand at the man, "DiNozzo, This is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, your partner on this case, sorry for the roughing around but we couldn't have anyone suspecting you of being involved," he explained, helping Tony to his feet.

"I don't really see how that was supposed to work, you attracted more attention than anything," Gibbs said pointedly before his eyes were sweeping over the man in front of him, eyeing him up from head to toe. "I hope you have something arranged for us to wear, Franks, Anthony looks cold," he said, unsure of how this kid could be of any help to him, then again there was something about him that Gibbs wanted to like.

Leading the way through to the other room, Franks switched on a light and pulled a folder out from the desk drawer, dropping it down in front of the two men, the both of them reaching for it at the same time. They bumped heads and Gibbs glared at the younger man, taking the file and flipping it open, dropping the photos of a dead woman down onto the wooden surface.

"The local M.E. said that she was kept for at least six months before she was killed, as if someone wanted her to suffer. There is evidence of malnutrition and abuse-both sexual and physical. There was no DNA other than the victim's on the scene-"

"And who's the victim?" Tony asked, interrupting Franks and earning a glare from Gibbs, his hand coming up and swatting the younger man on the back of his head.

"Who's the vic?" Gibbs asked as if Tony hadn't just asked the same question.

"Her name is Lorelai Rathwell, wife of a deceased marine, Corporal Ely Rathwell, mother of a Michael Rathwell, he has a partner, Richard Mills-" Franks continued on, flipping through the pages with Jethro, dropping some photos down onto the desk for DiNozzo to look at.

"A partner?" Tony asked, eyebrows knitting together. "He a cop?"

"No, DiNozzo, apparently it's called a life partner these days," Franks chuckled, Price joining in.

Gibbs looked just as baffled, looking at Tony, in hope he was getting what he was saying.

"Batting for the other team, Probie..."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Gibbs nodded, knowing that phrase well enough, it was more his era.

"So, they're gay?" DiNozzo asked, finally catching up to what was being said. He looked a little baffled still, flipping through the file a bit to try and figure out what Franks was getting at. He was irritated enough at being dragged out of bed at some ungodly time of night, and now he felt as though they were dragging things out, which only made him more irritable. "What does that have to do with the case, Franks? Why don't you just tell us what was so important that you had to drag us out of bed at this time of night?"

"Anthony, here, has a point," Gibbs growled out, crossing his arms over his chest.

They were interrupted as they were brought separate bags of clothing, none of them their own. "You're going undercover," Franks told them after a moment, Gibbs turning his head and arching a brow, trying to get what the man was trying to say. "As... partners."

Gibbs shook his head. "Are you saying..."

"I think he might be," Tony piped up, looking just as uncomfortable with the idea.

"In fact, married would be more appropriate," Franks told them, pulling out a box with two matching, plain gold bands-engraved with a romantic quote that hid any trace of the gps tracking device underneath.

"Like Hell," Gibbs said, looking furious at the very idea.

"Not happening," Tony agreed, shaking his head vigorously. "No offense, Special Agent Gibbs, but you're not my type," he told the man quickly, not wanting to offend his senior officer.

"None taken," Jethro said, looking at him with his sharp blue eyes. "You're not exactly mine either."

"I don't remember phrasing it as a question, Probie," Franks pointed out, giving Jethro a look to kill.

"Right. And what happens if one or both of us refuses?" Tony asked in that smartassed tone that Danny was so used to hearing, making him speak up.

"It's cleared with the boss, and I'd like to see you try and tell him you refused," he told his partner.

In reality, their boss had been pretty upset to hear about the assignment. The workload at the station was a lot bigger than normal and he'd been pissed off that he'd had to lose someone, but he'd agreed to it with quite a lot of coaxing on Danny's part.

"And why isn't it you taking this one, Price?" Anthony asked through gritted teeth, suddenly much more aware of his state of undress, and he attempted to cover himself by folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm the more experienced cop. With one man down, they're going to need the ones who have been at it longer at the station," Danny told him, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. It didn't make sense to Tony, though, because he'd always thought that the more experienced cops were the ones sent undercover so that there was less risk of a rookie mistake. Still, Tony didn't say anything, just swept his eyes over the other man suspiciously.

"Hypothetically speaking, if we did agree to do this, what exactly would we have to do?" Tony asked, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. He still wasn't on board just yet.

"Act as though you're a loving, newly married gay couple," Franks said after a moment. "You'll live in a house, have fake profiles made up, given new jobs just to get close, we need to find out who this fucker is... because we're pretty sure he's already got another victim."

"Another?" Gibbs asked, eyebrow jumping up, still not looking impressed.

"Daughter of First Sergeant Nathan Mires," Danny said from behind them.

"First Sergeant?" Tony asked, throwing in a low whistle at the end. "You sound more than pretty sure, Price. How long's she been missing?"

"Two months now," Danny answered, not sounding as though he had much hope for this girl. But whoever was doing this needed to be stopped either way, and Tony must have been thinking the same thing, because he looked more ready to agree to this than he had when they'd first pitched the idea.

"We don't have to, like... kiss or anything, right?" Tony asked, making a slight face.

"Well, there might be a time that you might have to," Franks admitted. "You're going to have to play it by ear. Honestly, you both will be able to fit in better than most I know, you're both quick thinkers and you both know how to handle yourself. Think of this as a challenge."

"You really think it's going to help?" Gibbs spoke up finally, still not looking very impressed with the idea, but he too wanted to take this guy down, and as soon as possible.

"Yea, Gibbs, I do," Franks told him honestly, running his fingers through his hair.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" he said as he finally took up the clothing starting to go through it, looking for something to wear, sick of shivering. None of the clothes were anything he'd usually wear and he looked a bit doubtful as he went through it, throwing the ones he didn't like onto the floor, ending up with an empty bag and a single t-shirt, causing Franks to rub a hand over his face.

This was going to be a long night.