Summary:

Clay had promised Jensen anything he wanted, but what Jensen really wanted was a monkey. Instead, they got Trudy.

It started with a monkey

A monkey: of all the things Jensen could have requested, a monkey hadn't even been on Clay's radar until it was asked for.

"You did tell him 'anything he wanted," Cougar was the first to point out.

Pooch was even less help, holding his hands up in surrender. "I am so not a part of this," he assured his commanding officer.

"I'm sure, somewhere in Jensen's brain, this all makes sense," Roque, his second in command commented, "He could have asked for an assistant, or nursing care or even a service dog, but no he requested something he knew we were not going to get him. There is no way he's getting a monkey."

"He's recovering from a spinal injury," Clay reminded him.

"I know he's recovering from a spinal injury, Clay. The man ordered a custom T-shirt to make sure we all remembered."

"He said it was so 'he would remember,'" Cougar offered, trying to be thorough.

"You, of all people," Roque reminded Cougar. "Should remember that what Jensen says and what he's really thinking aren't even on the same planet."

"Yes," Cougar agreed. "But in Jensen's world, he was promised a monkey, and, in his world, he will get a monkey."

"I didn't promise him a monkey," Clay objected in his own defense.

"And, we are right back to 'anything you want Jensen,'" Roque sighed.

"Don't remind me. How are we going to pull this off?"

"There is no 'pulling this off,' Clay. It's a monkey. We are a military unit and nowhere in the code of conduct, or the military handbook is a monkey even up for discussion. Besides, monkey'd probably outlive us all." Roque said shaking his head.

Clay recognized the set in his friend's jaw. There was no way Roque was going to go along with this, but Clay knew he had no real choice. He'd made Jensen a promise, open ended or not it was still a promise.

It spoke volumes for their friendship when Roque looked at him and shook his head. "You're seriously trying to work this out aren't you? Hell Clay, the man is half stoned on pain killer's we could probably get away with a sock puppet."

Operation Monkey Puppet was well underway when a delivery truck arrived in front of the small non-descript house that served as housing for the unit while Jensen recovered from his injuries, brain injury if you listened to Roque.

Whichever the case might be, he was at the hospital for physical therapy and it was the first bit of peace and quiet Pooch had had in almost a week.

There was no whining from Jensen, no sullen, helpless looks from Cougar, no yelling from Roque and none of Clay's dangerous girlfriend/psycho killers in sight. It was the way things used to be on a Saturday Morning, and Pooch knew better than to get used to it.

He had just finished cleaning the kitchen and covering the table with newspaper when the doorbell rang. He looked at the carburetor that he'd been planning on working on, and then at the door. He looked up the stairs and remembered exactly why it was so quiet.

He was home alone.

He walked to the door and was surprised to see a young woman in khaki pants and a white button down shirt waiting outside.

"May I help you?" he asked as he opened the door and froze. Standing next to the woman, dressed in a tiny 'service animal' vest was a monkey, a capuchin if he hadn't missed his guess.

"Mr. Linwood Porteous?" she asked.

Pooch felt reality spinning away from him in ways only Jensen could imagine and something told him this was not an episode of 'Punk'd' no matter how much he wished it were.

"Yes?" He answered tentatively.

She held out her hand. "Hello, I'm Patricia Avery, we spoke on the phone."

Pooch shook her hand and his head at the same time. "I'm afraid, you haven't been talking to me… I'm laying odds it was to one of my friends who wanted to keep this on the Q.T."

The woman shook her head. "I'm not sure what you're playing at here, but I recognize your voice," she said giving the monkey and her clipboard a worried look.

She rattled off the information on her sheet and it only proved to Pooch that Jensen had gone out of the way to be thorough. She, on the other hand, saw it as proof that he was indeed the man she'd talked to and he was having second thoughts.

The only problem was, if the information she'd been given was correct, this was the perfect environment for Trudy to foster out. "According to your application," she said emphasizing the word 'your'.

"One of your team is injured—he's not as mobile as he should be—there's where Trudy comes in. She's been training to help the disabled and this wouldn't be a permanent pairing, just until she gets used to being around new people and doing her job."

"I understand that, but we're a military unit. We might be called away, with or without our injured man and then… who's going to make sure Trudy is taken care of?"

"Look, Mr. Portious, I understand, and second thoughts aren't uncommon, but please, Trudy needs to be fostered if she's going to understand her job. We all know this is a temporary arrangement and to be honest, your test scores as a foster 'parent'… are," she looked at the clipboard and shook her head. "Off the chart."

If Jensen had been there, he would have gotten an earful. As it was Pooch was the one stuck taking custody of the young capuchin.

Trudy turned out to be more mechanically inclined than any of his teammates and Pooch had a bit of quite time to get used to his new housemate while the others were still away. She seemed to be a perfectly well behaved little lady, and probably could have taught Clay's dates a thing or three, but he was reading through all the cautions Ms. Avery had left him with.

He had just started to reach for a pair of pliers when Trudy picked them up and handed them to him. Then she started to chatter at him. He wasn't sure, but judging by her mannerisms he could guess: a scolding was a scolding—no matter the species.

He sighed and nodded. She was after all a service animal and she was trained to help. He wasn't sure he liked it but he could deal with it, especially if it meant someone who needed her help could use her special skills and her brand of humor. All he had to do was help her get ready.

He felt almost like a surgeon. He'd say "screw driver," and one would be handed to him. The only problem was, when Trudy didn't know what he was asking for she would climb into his lap and look up at him expectantly.

It was sweet, but it tended to get in the way, and when he asked for a monkey wrench Trudy plopped herself in his lap: she simply couldn't believe that he was looking for a wrench. No, he asked for a monkey and that's what Trudy was, so she sat in his lap refusing to move.

He thought a sulking Cougar was bad, but he had found something worse, worse even than a sulking Jensen. They could definitely learn a thing or three from Trudy as she sat there fretting.

"No Jensen, for the twentieth time, no!"

Jensen looked at Pooch in disbelief as Trudy climbed their transportation man's arm and clung to his shoulder, chattering at him in almost the same tone.

"Pooch, she's my monkey."

"Trudy is a service animal here to become acclimatized to being around people. It's bad enough you've got her mining your WoW characters, I am not going to let you teach her how to play poker, or worse, cheat at poker. Need I remind you, that you arranged it so that I was the one to sign off on her?"

"Look, you're mad about that. I can understand but it was the only way I could get her here, and I appreciate you playing along, but she's supposed to be helping me."

"Helping, yes. Becoming a conspirator in your shenanigans, no."

"Shenanigans?" Jensen asked trying to sound contrite and failing.

"Shenanigans. I know you had her looking at Cougar's hand the last time we played, and that is not what a service animal is supposed to be doing once they have their permanent home and its definitely not what she's supposed to be doing right now."

Jensen shook his head as he flopped down on the couch.

On Pooch's shoulder Trudy shifted unsure if she should do something or not. Finally she climbed down and patted Jensen's shoulder.

"See... It'll be fine Pooch... Won't it Trudy?"

Trudy took one look at Jensen and rolled her eyes, chattering angrily.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Pooch muttered under his breath.

"Pooch, man, you've got to come home. Right now!"

Pooch pulled the phone away from his ear, verified the caller was indeed using Jensen's cell phone, before putting it back to his ear. "Jensen: take a deep breath. Now, slowly, in complete sentences, tell me what's wrong."

"There's no time. It's Trudy... Get here, like... an hour ago... It's not my fault..."

Pooch shook his head, looked down at his purchase and then at the line ahead of him. "Get her into her cage. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"It won't do any good, Pooch. I taught her how to open the cage."

"Why did you..." He let the sentence die realizing he really didn't want to know why Jensen had taught her to break out of her cage. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

He hung up the phone and, swearing to himself, left the checkout line and replaced his items on the shelves. He didn't want Trudy getting hurt, but Jensen was fair game.

Pooch steeled himself for the possibilities but, judging by Jensen's panic stricken call, he knew anything he could imagine wouldn't compare to whatever chaos Jensen had managed to rain down on the team. It was just the way things where when Jensen was involved.

He carefully opened the door and looked around. Encouraged by the lack of total decimation in the living room, he let himself in and carefully locked the door behind him.

He had almost a minute of pure peace before Trudy appeared and immediately tried to hide under his jacket, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He was surprised by how quickly his concern turned towards anger when he realized someone had upset Trudy. Then he noticed the hat that she had somehow placed on his head during the commotion: Cougar's hat to be exact.

He gently wrapped a protective arm around Trudy, pulled off the hat and yelled, "JENSEN!"

Jensen came around the corner looking almost as panic stricken as Trudy had been. "You have to tell him. It was just a misunderstanding, Pooch... please?"

His pleading ended as the cause for his concern rounded the corner and glared at all of them. The first thing Pooch did was hand Cougar back his hat. Then he turned towards Jensen.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

"It wasn't me... Trudy was just trying to help and I thought it would be fun if she tried on some clothes... you know... so she'd fit in more..."

"Jensen, Trudy is a Capuchin Service animal. There is only one article of clothing she's to wear and that's her service vest."

"But it's got no style... now a hat..."

Pooch closed his eyes and gently stroked Trudy's back, trying to calm her and himself down.

"Jensen... Trudy is here to learn how to help and how to be around people. I'm talking people here, not moronic escapees from the insane asylum. Have you even looked at the manual?"

"What manual?"

"The one I placed on top of your netbook. The one I loaded onto your netbook. The one I posted on the fridge for good measure?"

Jensen looked around and shrugged. "Sorry the pain meds make it hard to focus. I haven't really been up to reading it."

Pooch sighed and looked at Trudy. "Trudy. I need the book on the fridge."

Trudy looked up at him and followed his gaze and saw the book he was pointing to. She gave Cougar a wary look before doing as she was told and when she returned with the book and handed it to Pooch he praised her according to the book.

"Thank you, Trudy," he said handing her a 'monkey cookie' from the bag. It was one of the few provisions he'd been able to buy before being called back to deal with 'the situation.'

"Now go to your cage and take a nap."

With clear concise instructions from a calming influence, not to mention a reward, Trudy happily did as she was told.

Pooch waited until she was out of sight. The last thing he wanted her to see was him beating Jensen senseless with the manual she'd just handed him.

By the end of the week, Roque was determined to get rid of Trudy or Jensen, and he seemed to be leaning more and more towards replacing Jensen with the monkey.

Almost every 'Trudy' incident involved Jensen in some way shape or form. After asking her for Cougar's hat and the chaos that ensued, the capuchin had taken to looking at Pooch for confirmation (another reason for keeping her in favor of Jensen in Roque's opinion.)

Then there was the fact that every time Jensen tried to work in his 'normal' mode of dress, Trudy would appear with whatever article of clothing she could find, including but not limited to an apron, a robe, a pair of sweatpants and a trench coat and when he would tell her to put them away, she would start trying to dress him (another mark in her favor)

On the negative side, she shared Jensen's curiosity and heaven forbid you let her get bored. Then it was a toss-up as to which of them was worse.

The first afternoon where no one gave her orders, Trudy had managed to knock all the Tupperware containers off the top of the cabinets when she went exploring. That by its self wasn't all that bad. The problem there had been the contraband items the team had put there in the interest of keeping them out of Jensen's line of sight, thereby giving the others a chance to eat them.

Once they were 'out in the open' Jensen was giving her orders left and right and the commands kept coming faster and faster as the man ingested more and more sugar. On the bright side while he was getting hyper she was growing tired until in the middle of him saying 'Trudy, bring me the ho-ho's, no the ding-dongs, not the funny bones,' Trudy had let out an anguished shriek, flopped on the floor and curled up in a small ball. After that, she quickly curled up in Pooch's lap and at one point took his hand in hers and used it to pat her head.

That seemed to be her solution to Jensen more and more often than not and it was so endearing Roque almost went into insulin shock.

Then there was the great 'monkey cookie' incident where rather than giving Trudy one of her cookies for a job well done, Jensen had started eating them. She sat there watching him and Roque was sure the poor thing was crying.

Then he saw the bill for the cookies and he was crying right along with her.

The magic of having a monkey seemed to be wearing off on Jensen as the reality of how much work was really involved settled in. The more and more he read the manual (and the more Pooch slapped him around with it) the more he sulked. He was used to being the entertaining one and now he was in competition with Trudy.

His thoughts organized, Roque approached Clay's quarters and knocked. It was in Trudy's best interest to be posted elsewhere, that much he was sure of.

Clay paced the confines of his room as it grew smaller as smaller and each member of his team knocked on the door and quietly asked for admittance.

Pooch had been first, and to his credit, his only real concern was Trudy's well-being. Everything he'd said had been well supported and he tended to agree that this was not the place for her to learn what normal house life was like if they ever wanted Trudy to succeed as a service animal.

As it was he was fairly certain that she would want to pat down everyone who came within a 10 foot radius of her person once assigned. Not the worst of things, but it was definitely disconcerting.

Then Roque had appeared trying to give him an ultimatum: Jensen or Trudy.

He wasn't all that surprised when Cougar had joined the party, although he was surprised by his reasoning. The first part, he understood completely: Jensen was unhappy and when Jensen was unhappy it tended to bring the whole group down. It was the second part that surprised him, although after an explanation, he understood completely: the dream of having a monkey was a lot more enjoyable than actually having a monkey and now Jensen felt he had to do something about it, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings especially Trudy's.

As he considered the requests there was another knock on the door, and Clay found himself barely suppressing a smile, it was only a question of when Jensen would join the B.S. session, if for no other reason than needing to feel he was a part of things.

He opened the door, bowing slightly, "Jensen, welcome to the party…"

He froze when he realized that it wasn't Jensen, but rather Trudy standing at the door, her vest in hand.

Clay knew how to handle women out to kill him. He knew how to handle women who were irate, dangerous and all kinds of volatile, but he had no idea how to deal with a heartbroken little girl, let alone a monkey. He did the only thing a man in his position could do: he delegated.

"Pooch…"

It took all of them, working as a team to turn Trudy around. Their first mistake had been treating her like a member of the team and as adaptable as Trudy was, she was well on her way to becoming a Loser.

That was fine if she had been an Army issued Capuchin, but she wasn't, she was destined for a very different service. Once they realized that, the rest fell into place.

Just as any mission requires teamwork, Operation Monkey Cookie required each of their specialties to come into play.

From Cougar she learned to wait in silence, and to understand the subtlest of gestures. From Pooch she learned to reason out how to accomplish her required tasks. From Clay she learned to be pleasant and charming. From Jensen she learned that sometimes, all you needed was a hug and to know you weren't alone.

The last and hardest lessons came from Roque. He taught her when to refuse to do as she was told, and wait until her partner asked for one thing, instead of twelve counter intuitive directions and that sometimes what her person wanted wasn't what they needed.

By the time Jensen had healed and Ms. Avery came to take Trudy back to the training facility to graduate, Trudy understood her job and did it perfectly. As Ms. Avery was about to congratulate Pooch on a job well done, Trudy intercepted her and gave her a quick pat-down to make sure she wasn't carrying.

As the handler stared at him, all Pooch could do was give a slight shrug: they never seemed to be able to break her of that particular habit.

The End.