AN: This is a belated birthday present for DiNozzo Dame; it's almost a year since she first gave me the idea. Many Happy Returns, Luv!

Fort Landau is of course made up; I saw some great reenactments when I was over in Ontario, so I just moved them across the border; and took the name from a great actor who died recently.

I've tried to research which Native American tribes would have been involved in the War of Independence, their dress, the sides they took etc, and am hereby confessing that the subject is beyond me for the purposes of this story, so please excuse my vagueness. I like to be credible, but may fall down a bit here!

Post Baltimore, pre Kate. I think just about everyone knows the 'little poo boy' story, so I've not gone into explaining it.

I Wannabe

By scousemuz1k

The retired Marine gritted his teeth hard enough to put his back fillings in danger. This wasn't going the way he'd hoped for…

He'd thought it was a brilliant idea when he'd decided to go see Gibbs; he knew the Gunny was an investigator these days, so he had some actual power to do something – and he remembered how nothing got past him in the Corps. If something was wrong, he'd put a stop to it faster than fast, and the culprit never erred again.

So yeah…. Good idea. Or not. Richmond ground his teeth again. He remembered that the two other desks in Gibbs' office had been empty, so he supposed he ought to be grateful that there weren't three of the kid, but he really wished Gibbs had come alone…

"Gunny. Ben Richmond – remember me?"

Gibbs rose from his desk to greet the man who'd just been escorted in. "Staff. Sure I do… what brings you here?"

"Just Ben these days, Gunny."

"Sure. Just Gibbs." He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Well, it's like this. I retired seven years ago… had my dream job planned, been doing it ever since. I manage the reenactments at Fort Landau."

There was a sound like a suppressed snort from behind the visitor, and a clatter. He turned to see the young man sitting diagonally opposite Gibbs, whom he'd virtually ignored when he came in, in his eagerness to see the Gunny again, picking up the desk organizer he'd just knocked down. Gibbs took no notice at all.

"You always were the history guy. Happy with what you're doing, then?"

"I have been, until recently. Need some help, Gibbs. Stuff going on I don't like."

The gunny waved a hand at a spare chair, and raised the same eyebrow, inviting his friend to go on.

"There was a bit of it last year… like now, it was during the rehearsal stages… not much, just a bit of recreational weed… I put the word out that anyone caught with the stuff would be tossed out. This year, there's more. Worse stuff… I've never got close to it yet… everyone knows me, sees me coming… they're careful, whoever they are, but people are warning me. Not just the kids… veterans are being targeted too, like they think they're vulnerable or something. There are quite a few former marines, and navy guys, that's men and women I'm talking about, people who've lived it but still like to do the historical bit. They're being offered uppers, downers… the information's still vague, they can never point out the pushers when we go looking for them, but I believe the people who're telling me.

"And last night, I had a couple of girls come to me. Told me about their friend, sleeping off something nasty, with a fourth girl on guard in their tent. Why on guard, I asked… Well, they were all round a campfire last night, lots of people, they couldn't say who or how many… laughing, singing, drinking beer… they wondered where Sally was, she'd just been there with them. They looked around, saw her walking away a bit unsteadily, and they were worried. She hadn't been drinking that much. I mean, nobody does. They went after her, just in time to see a guy grabbing her from behind another tent, and trying to pull her in. They yelled, the guy ran away.

"The doc checked her, it was definitely a date-rape drug, so now we know that's being pushed on-site. Enough's enough. I don't want the place crawling with cops, we run a good event that I don't want tarnished, but I want it stopped, so I came to you. Did I do right?"

"Ya did. DiNozzo, grab your go bag. We're going to Fort Landau."

Richmond turned to look at the young agent, just in time to see a sharp look he couldn't quite read flit across the intelligent face. Anger? Resentment? Disdain? Disgust? Whatever it was, it was instantly replaced by the most vacuous grin.

"Hey… we're going re-enacting? On your six, Boss!"

Ben Richmond had found himself dwelling on the expression he'd seen, and soon forgot that he'd thought the young man looked intelligent. Seriously, where did he get off with being disgusted, or disdainful of the thing Richmond had devoted his entire post-Corps life to?

Now, he thought the young man's inane chatter as they moved through the site would drive him mad; commenting unceasingly on everything he saw; relating it all to films he'd seen, of all things. This wasn't the movies, dammit, this was serious. The kid stopped to poke his nose into everything, from the jewelry on the trinket stalls to the food being cooked in field ovens, even scrounging a chunk of hot bread, dripping with butter, by charming the elderly lady cook. He flirted with every pretty girl he came across, until Gibbs would call him to heel like a puppy, and like a puppy he'd come lolloping back.

Richmond didn't know how Gibbs tolerated him, but the gunny just gave a half smile and shrugged his shoulders.

The pup came trotting back, this time without being called.

"Anything?" his boss asked.

"Not much. You?"

"Nothing."

'What,' Richmond thought, startled, 'This is working? They call this working?'

"What's 'not much?' Gibbs went on, and the younger man shook his head.

"A few secluded spots, maybe… one or two people whose jobs take them around the site… nothing useful. I need to go under, Boss." That last bit was spoken tentatively, his face serious for once, as if he was sure he'd be turned down.

"I know you do, DiNozzo," the Gunny said, placidly.

"Hey-y-y-y…" Instantly, the silly grin was back, and Richmond, entirely forgetting that he'd just heard the pup say something useful, turned away so that Gibbs wouldn't see his eye-roll. Under? As in undercover? This brainless kid –what did he call him… DiNozzo? This brainless Italian (he supposed) kid wanted to go undercover? And Gibbs – Gibbs was OK with that? Richmond shuddered. What had he done?

"So, Ben," Gibbs got his attention. "What d'you think we can do with Tony, here?"

'Don't tempt me…' "Well… uh… we've got plenty of spare settler clothing…" the kid had the nerve to wear that disdainful look again, and Richmond couldn't help showing a flash of irritation. "If you want to be a soldier and dress fancy, sonny, you'll have to supply your own. All the soldiers have their own kit; it's expensive stuff. You won't find anyone who'll lend it out."

"Too warm, anyway." The young man shook his head amiably, in no way fazed by Richmond's annoyance. "I'm a New Yorker. Used to aircon." He spun round and pointed down the field a little way. "I wannabe… one of them."

Two tanned, rangy, young Iroquois warriors, wearing not much else but hide buskins, were shooting arrows at a target from impressive bows which they clearly knew how to handle. Richmond spluttered.

"Kid, those two are real, First Nation, Arapaho brothers and this is their fourth year of coming down here from Wyoming to play Iroquois scouts. And I know for a fact that they're not involved in the drug thing. I trust them. They love this place… know the job inside out… how the hell d'you think you'd fit in with them? There's your hair just for a start!"

DiNozzo just kept grinning. "Well, I'll shave my head if I have to –" Ben Richmond saw that even Gibbs, who must know him well enough, blinked at his agent's words. "But I don't think I'll need to."

He leaned forwards and shook his head hard, then bent from the waist until his long, floppy quiff hung loose. When he straightened up, he made a centre parting with his fingers, and raked his hair into straight bangs on either side of his face. He twisted a handkerchief from his pocket and held it across his forehead. It was the wrong colour, and not long enough to go round his head, but Richmond was forced to admit to himself that the look… OK, the look would actually do.

It was still a disaster waiting to happen, so he tried another tack. "O… Kay… come and meet them." They followed him across the grass; at his shout the two young men turned to meet them, smiling.

"Hey, Chief!" The slightly shorter and stockier of the two greeted him.

"Fellas… how's it goin'?"

"Good, Ben. Who's this?"

"Well, this is Special Agent Gibbs... and Special Agent DiNozzo. NCIS."

"Ah," the taller young man said knowingly.

"Ah is about it," Richmond said, and turned to Gibbs. "Hart Mackie –" he indicated the shorter man, "and his little brother, Bear. Hart, you know what the agents are doing here. Special Agent DiNozzo wants to go undercover, with you guys." The reaction was everything the retired marine could have hoped for.

Bear Mackie let out a whoop of laughter. His brother said slowly, "With us. With us, huh?" He looked Dinozzo, who just stood there with that grin on his face, up and down. "I'll grant you, you're not as pale as some palefaces... but how're you going to do what we do?"

"Well... I figured you guys could teach me," DiNozzo said cheerfully.

Bear made a disgusted noise, turned, and in one smooth movement, notched an arrow to his bow and fired. He hit the target very close to the centre.

DiNozzo made a big deal of squinting into the distance and stepping nearer to the target. He nodded. "That's impressive," he said.

Hart laughed, and did exactly the same thing. His arrow struck exactly in line with his brother's, about three inches away. Richmond looked at Gibbs with a 'well?'expression. The gunny simply looked as unruffled as his protégé had done a few minutes earlier.

DiNozzo's inane smile didn't falter. "Yes," he said, taking a few more steps nearer to the target and still peering as if it were too far away to see properly. "Very impressive."

His arm moved quickly, there was a dull 'thunk', and a knife nobody had even seen was buried up to the hilt in the space between the two arrows.

He turned back to the others, the smile gone, and said politely, "Sorry, I had to get a bit nearer – the knife doesn't have the same range as the bow."

Richmond's jaw dropped. He looked at Gibbs, who just gave him a serene half-smile.

The two brothers looked at each other and shook their heads, then let out twin, rueful laughs. Hart grinned, and stuck out a hand. "We'll find you some gear," he said.

Two days later, as the sun began to dip and the day slipped into a fine, warm evening, Gibbs watched as his refugee from Baltimore sat on the grass, sharing a meal with his new friends. Gibbs studied him from a distance; he didn't want anyone with maybe something to hide, associating them both. It'd just make both of their jobs more difficult.

"You could pass as a Chippewa maybe... our forest brother from the North," Bear had said thoughtfully on that first evening. "That way you don't have to lose the hair." He'd run his hand over his own scalp, bare but for that one long lock, and smiled wryly. "Things we do... grow our hair long for six months, then have to shave it all off... takes an age to grow back, then we have to start again."

He laughed at the expression on his forest brother from the North's face.

They'd shifted stuff from a corner of their tent; (stuff like phones, propane stoves, fibre-filled duvets and electric razors must never see the light of day when the public were on site,) their new friend went up another notch in their estimation when he was prepared to just curl up in a blanket on the ground to sleep.

The next day had been the final rehearsal; Gibbs hardly saw anything of his agent, and when he did, he was in character, eyes shining with exhilaration. When they had compared notes, there'd been nothing of note. Today had been the first performance, and although Gibbs had privately, and Ben Richmond had openly questioned if DiNozzo's mind had been on the job, his boss hadn't the heart to call him on it.

Now, he lounged on the grass, long legs in buckskin stretched out, a dark red bandana round his head, naked to the waist like his companions, but for a bead and porcupine quill necklace, hoping to deepen his light tan to their shade.

Gibbs was glad to see him relaxed; it was something that hadn't happened very often since he left Baltimore, the crooked partner and the self-orientated fiancée. He was happy to see that DiNozzo's mask had been dropped, at least for a while; he knew very well why the kid had knocked over that organiser, and why the patent silly smirk had appeared when re-enacting had been mentioned. He was getting to know that Tony's disguises had many layers.

Right now, Hart was having something to say about that. "Been meaning to ask you all day... why did you act like an idiot when we first met? Had us both fooled." He laughed. "Us and Ben."

Tony had his answer ready, and it wasn't a lie - but nobody but Gibbs was going to know the truth. "You think anyone would be scared of me? Think of me as a cop?"

"Gotcha."

Hart rose easily to his feet. "Gonna take a walk round camp, stretch my legs." He looked at the agent meaningfully. "Probably be a campfire somewhere, people hanging out, you know?"

"Sure. " Tony and Bear both rose to follow him, and Gibbs noted with approval that the kid carried as little extra body-weight as his friends; that was, none.

He followed at a distance, intending to strike up a casual conversation, but just as he came within earshot, the kid stopped, and said, "Wait." The brothers looked surprised, but did so.

"That one," Tony said softly, indicating another brave, with bow and quiver, standing in the shadow of a few tall bushes a little distance away. "Do we know him?"

Bear shook his head. "Seen him once or twice... his costume's not up to standard... never spoke to him." He raised an eyebrow. "D'you think..."

Tony said thoughtfully, "What do you think to the size of his quiver?"

"Uh... what?"

"Same size bow as yours... arrows wa-a-ay longer. Is that normal?"

Bear shook his head. "Way too long. Maybe –"

"What I thought, too. Guys, wait here."

"No way."

Tony looked at them both. "Well, then, follow my lead, OK?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but angled across the grass towards the man, shooting a quick glance towards Gibbs as he did so. 'With me?'

The brothers were surprised again, but somehow not, to see the vacuous idiot was back, as he spoke in a cheery, unthreatening voice. "Hey, friend – like a look at your quiver!"

It was exactly the right opening line, as DiNozzo had hoped it would be.

"Sure! What you looking for?"

DiNozzo jerked his thumb at Bear. "Been a long day... he needs something u-u-up, you know? And..." he glanced round, and gave a lecherous giggle, "there's this girl I saw... you got any sleepy-time stuff... you know?"

"Oh, sure!" The 'brave' hauled his quiver round to the front, and unlatched a flap at the bottom end. The stuff he brought out of the compartment was instantly recognisable to the man who'd been a cop only a few months ago.

Tony unwound his bandana, and collected the two small packets in it. "Thank you," he said politely. "You're under arrest for being in possession of –"

Give the guy his due, he was fast, like a snake. He swung the quiver hard at DiNozzo's head, making him grunt in pain and annoyance, shoved him into his friends, and as they all staggered, he ran. He took off like a rabbit – or a weasel, Tony thought, in the opposite direction from where Gibbs was, towards the short track to the main road... the line between 1775 and the real world. In the gathering dusk of the real world he could easily disappear.

Tony swore. They knew the pusher's face now, and there'd certainly be prints, maybe DNA on the discarded quiver, but that all took time... now would be good. He set off after the man, gathering speed, but not sure it would be enough.

A few yards ahead of the guy, an arrow thudded into the ground. He yelped, faltered, and kept going. A moment later, another followed. Tony whooped as the pusher stumbled in panic, and he gained somewhat on him, and he heard the whoops taken up by the brothers, not far behind. To their quarry, it must have sounded terrifying, echoing through the twilight, as he stumbled and hesitated again, but he gathered up his courage and set out again, only to find a tree in his path.

A cornered rat will attack, they say, and the pusher drew a knife, holding it out at arm's length.

"S-s-stay away! I said stay away!"

The agent rolled his eyes. "I haven't time for this!" He sighed, and drew his own weapon, wishing the hell Gibbs would just get here with his gun, and sort this out. No way did he actually want to use his blade on another human being...

Another arrow thunked into the tree only a couple of yards from the guy, then another. The pusher screeched and waved his knife about, and the agent thought of a few days ago. His own knife thudded into the bark beside the arrows, but rather closer to the not very brave brave's head, and the fight went out of him. He dropped his weapon with a whimper, even before Gibbs' voice yelled out the order to do just that.

Tony left him to his boss's tender mercies, and turned to grin at the Mackie brothers. "Nice work, guys!"

For someone who'd just helped to bring down a public menace, Hart didn't seem particularly cheerful.

"Yeah. We're dead men."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ben's going to roast us. Probably throw us out. We're not allowed – nobody's allowed to fire off their weapons except during the enactment, and then only according to the script. "

"Ah. Well, I'll tell him –"

"You don't have to tell me, I saw it all!" Ben Richmond strode up, his face like thunder. "We have rules for a reason, dammit!"

The brothers glanced at each other, wondering whether defending themselves was any use. Tony took a deep breath, and was about to go into battle, but waited when Richmond walked up to the tree. The marine looked at the two arrows and the knife, and shook his head. "Hmmmph." He turned back to face them. "Showboaters!" he snorted, and strode off again.

The pusher had stitched up his associates; their go-bags were packed again; Ben Richmond had thanked them sincerely. Tony stood by the car, looking back at the Fort with longing eyes, and Gibbs would have told him to stay for the duration if they hadn't had work to do back in DC.

They heard a shout – Tony had already said his rather wistful goodbyes to the Mackie brothers, but here came the two of them, calling out as they ran to stop them from driving away.

"Hey," Hart said breathlessly, "Thought of something." He handed Tony a small, flint arrowhead. "This means you'll return one day." The agent looked at the sliver of sharp stone in the palm of his hand, and his heart felt lighter.

Bear handed him the bead and porcupine quill necklace. "Like, next year," he said firmly. "Bring this to wear, Forest Brother from the North."

The End