The Eagle Has Landed
Originally written for crossovers_las
Crossover: NCIS/GH
This is like something out of a soap opera, Tony thought. I should be back at home, not traipsing through some godforsaken town in New York on what is proving to be a wild goose chase. It was cold and he was currently wading through a foot of snow on his way to yet another private detective agency. He hoped this one was more promising than the last.
He pulled the door to the building open and was grateful for the relative warmth of the corridor. He stomped his feet, dispelling some of the snow and made his way to the offices of McCall and Jackal, PI. He hoped he wasn’t about to reach another dead end. All of the other agencies had proved to be woefully inept. If this one did not pan out, he was heading back to DC and bringing McGee in on the situation.
He paused outside of the door, ran a hand through his hair and straightened his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for disappointment as he pulled open the door.
Three sets of eyes turned to look at him and Tony put on his most charming smile, aiming it at a rather gorgeous, dark-haired woman. He tugged his gloves loose and took a quick look around.
It was a modest office with two desks which faced each other. Both desks held computers and the accompanying paraphernalia. It reminded him of the setting of The Maltese Falcon, a modernized version of Sam Spade’s office, that is.
Things are looking up, Tony thought. The last two ‘agencies’ he’d visited had clearly never heard of the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first. Neither of them had a working pen, never mind a computer.
“Welcome to the offices of McCall and Jackal, PI.” A rather enthusiastic young man with disheveled hair and a goofy grin approached him with an outstretched hand. “How may we be of service to you this wintry afternoon or,” the young man paused, frowning slightly as Tony shook his hand, “mayhap you are here merely seeking solace from the storm which rages outside in the streets of Port Charles?”
Tony shook his head, his smile broadening, the kid reminded him of Abby. Definitely no Caf Pows for him. The kid was clearly high-strung as it was if the rapid-fire speech he’d just delivered was the norm, and, judging by the non-reaction of the other two people in the room, it was.
“I’d like to hire a private detective,” Tony stated.
“Well, you’re in the right place.” The dark-haired beauty walked around her desk and offered her hand to him. “I’m McCall, and that’s Jackal over there.” She pointed toward her partner.
“Tony DiNozzo,” he greeted, and looked pointedly at the one remaining man in the room who’d yet to be introduced.
“Let the Jackal extend to you the use of his supreme cyber sleuthing skills,” the kid’s enthusiasm seemed to double when he realized that Tony might become a genuine client, “and Fair Samantha’s extraordinary detecting capabilities.”
“Spinelli,” the other man spoke in a weary tone which Tony found mildly annoying. “Let the man speak.”
“And you are?” Tony turned to the other man, a tight smile in place of his earlier one.
“That would be Stone Cold, er…” the kid trailed off, looking sheepishly at the man whose jaw twitched and then down at his feet.
“Jason Morgan.” The man offered his hand and Tony shook it, squeezing slightly before releasing it.,br>
“So, where do you fit into McCall and Jackal, PI?” Tony asked, assessing the man before him.
“I don’t,” the man’s terse reply grated on Tony’s nerves.
“So, you’re a client then?” Tony could sense the other man’s mounting irritation and he smirked.
“Jason’s one of our consultants,” McCall explained. It was clear to Tony that she was coming to the rescue, trying to salvage the situation before things got even tenser than they already were.
“Yes, he offers a variety of invaluable support services.” The kid’s smile was now firmly in place, but it was clear to Tony that he was upset and for some reason it bothered him.
“Well, ’You picked a nice sort of a playmate,’” Tony quoted, using his best Humphrey Bogart impression. For a moment, he worried the reference would go unrecognized.
Jason glared at him, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the desk. McCall looked at him as though he was a difficult puzzle that was missing a piece. The Jackal, however, got a glint of what could only be described as pure joy, in his eyes.
“’You’re a good man, sister,’” he likewise quoted, in his own Humphrey Bogart accent.
“So, um, you wanted to hire a private eye?” McCall prodded, bringing Tony back to the task at hand.
“Yes.”
“What do you need to hire the services of a private detective for?” Jason sounded skeptical. He was assessing Tony warily, taking in his dress shoes and suit and no doubt judging him to be far too upper crust for this particular detective agency.
Tony noted that he was dressed in a black tee-shirt and jeans. Cowboy boots completed the ensemble and Tony saw a black leather jacket hanging on a coat tree in the corner of the room.
Tony ignored the other man and turned toward the Jackal. “I was recently informed that I was…adopted,” he hedged around the truth, not wanting to use the word ‘kidnap’, “and I want to find my biological family. I was pointed in the direction of Port Charles, but don’t have much to work with. Will you take my case?” He’d been turned down by three other agencies who hadn’t wanted to do the legal legwork.
“It just so happens that we’ve had a couple of similar cases over the past few months.” Tony felt as though a great weight had been lifted at the Jackal’s response. He hadn’t wanted to bring his team in on this just yet.
“You’re hired.”
Crossover: NCIS/GH
This is like something out of a soap opera, Tony thought. I should be back at home, not traipsing through some godforsaken town in New York on what is proving to be a wild goose chase. It was cold and he was currently wading through a foot of snow on his way to yet another private detective agency. He hoped this one was more promising than the last.
He pulled the door to the building open and was grateful for the relative warmth of the corridor. He stomped his feet, dispelling some of the snow and made his way to the offices of McCall and Jackal, PI. He hoped he wasn’t about to reach another dead end. All of the other agencies had proved to be woefully inept. If this one did not pan out, he was heading back to DC and bringing McGee in on the situation.
He paused outside of the door, ran a hand through his hair and straightened his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for disappointment as he pulled open the door.
Three sets of eyes turned to look at him and Tony put on his most charming smile, aiming it at a rather gorgeous, dark-haired woman. He tugged his gloves loose and took a quick look around.
It was a modest office with two desks which faced each other. Both desks held computers and the accompanying paraphernalia. It reminded him of the setting of The Maltese Falcon, a modernized version of Sam Spade’s office, that is.
Things are looking up, Tony thought. The last two ‘agencies’ he’d visited had clearly never heard of the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first. Neither of them had a working pen, never mind a computer.
“Welcome to the offices of McCall and Jackal, PI.” A rather enthusiastic young man with disheveled hair and a goofy grin approached him with an outstretched hand. “How may we be of service to you this wintry afternoon or,” the young man paused, frowning slightly as Tony shook his hand, “mayhap you are here merely seeking solace from the storm which rages outside in the streets of Port Charles?”
Tony shook his head, his smile broadening, the kid reminded him of Abby. Definitely no Caf Pows for him. The kid was clearly high-strung as it was if the rapid-fire speech he’d just delivered was the norm, and, judging by the non-reaction of the other two people in the room, it was.
“I’d like to hire a private detective,” Tony stated.
“Well, you’re in the right place.” The dark-haired beauty walked around her desk and offered her hand to him. “I’m McCall, and that’s Jackal over there.” She pointed toward her partner.
“Tony DiNozzo,” he greeted, and looked pointedly at the one remaining man in the room who’d yet to be introduced.
“Let the Jackal extend to you the use of his supreme cyber sleuthing skills,” the kid’s enthusiasm seemed to double when he realized that Tony might become a genuine client, “and Fair Samantha’s extraordinary detecting capabilities.”
“Spinelli,” the other man spoke in a weary tone which Tony found mildly annoying. “Let the man speak.”
“And you are?” Tony turned to the other man, a tight smile in place of his earlier one.
“That would be Stone Cold, er…” the kid trailed off, looking sheepishly at the man whose jaw twitched and then down at his feet.
“Jason Morgan.” The man offered his hand and Tony shook it, squeezing slightly before releasing it.,br>
“So, where do you fit into McCall and Jackal, PI?” Tony asked, assessing the man before him.
“I don’t,” the man’s terse reply grated on Tony’s nerves.
“So, you’re a client then?” Tony could sense the other man’s mounting irritation and he smirked.
“Jason’s one of our consultants,” McCall explained. It was clear to Tony that she was coming to the rescue, trying to salvage the situation before things got even tenser than they already were.
“Yes, he offers a variety of invaluable support services.” The kid’s smile was now firmly in place, but it was clear to Tony that he was upset and for some reason it bothered him.
“Well, ’You picked a nice sort of a playmate,’” Tony quoted, using his best Humphrey Bogart impression. For a moment, he worried the reference would go unrecognized.
Jason glared at him, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the desk. McCall looked at him as though he was a difficult puzzle that was missing a piece. The Jackal, however, got a glint of what could only be described as pure joy, in his eyes.
“’You’re a good man, sister,’” he likewise quoted, in his own Humphrey Bogart accent.
“So, um, you wanted to hire a private eye?” McCall prodded, bringing Tony back to the task at hand.
“Yes.”
“What do you need to hire the services of a private detective for?” Jason sounded skeptical. He was assessing Tony warily, taking in his dress shoes and suit and no doubt judging him to be far too upper crust for this particular detective agency.
Tony noted that he was dressed in a black tee-shirt and jeans. Cowboy boots completed the ensemble and Tony saw a black leather jacket hanging on a coat tree in the corner of the room.
Tony ignored the other man and turned toward the Jackal. “I was recently informed that I was…adopted,” he hedged around the truth, not wanting to use the word ‘kidnap’, “and I want to find my biological family. I was pointed in the direction of Port Charles, but don’t have much to work with. Will you take my case?” He’d been turned down by three other agencies who hadn’t wanted to do the legal legwork.
“It just so happens that we’ve had a couple of similar cases over the past few months.” Tony felt as though a great weight had been lifted at the Jackal’s response. He hadn’t wanted to bring his team in on this just yet.
“You’re hired.”