Below is the start of a fan fiction series by me (MargyW) entitled "NCIS Mavericks". I have been persuaded to share this with you all. I hope you enjoy. The story is being written in parts, but it will go on here as a continuous narrative. I hope you can follow what I am doing. Where the character is thinking, I have put the thoughts in italics. Please let me know what you think.

BILBAO, SPAIN
“You should be thankful, Translator Bengoa, that the American tourist did not wish to press charges”. The police chief glared at the red-headed woman standing before his desk. Amaia Bengoa tossed her dark red curls. “He answered the description of the pedophile we have been looking for. His replies to questions were evasive. I got angry.”

Rodriguez closed his eyes. “When you get angry, Translator Bengoa, we end up with trouble. It is fortunate that we found drugs upon his person, and were able to trade off. Otherwise you would be sitting in the cells downstairs awaiting trial on assault charges.” Amaia scowled, And wouldn’t you have loved that, she thought. Pig!

Rodriguez took a sheaf of papers from his desk and handed them across to Amaia. “Fortunately, you are no longer my problem.” Amaia gave him a startled look. Now what is going on? Rodriguez looks pleased with himself. This is not a good sign.

“You are being sent to America, Bengoa. You leave in two days.”

Amaia’s emerald green eyes widened. “America? What for? Where?”

Rodriguez chuckled, “Washington D.C. You are being sent to one of their agencies for further training.”

“Which agency?”

“NCIS.”

“Who?”

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
“Dammit, Detective Danvers! What the hell did you think you were doing?” Malone’s blood pressure was visibly rising as he stared at the statuesque blond before him. Roslyn Danvers looked into the sweaty, red face of her boss and decided that, for once, discretion was the better part of valor. “Ummm, I wasn’t thinking?”

“Damn right you weren’t thinking! What the hell am I supposed to say when one of my detectives is caught doing 100 mph in a 40mph zone?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, boss?”

“No it freaking isn’t!” Malone slumped back into his seat. “We are trying to promote an image of safe, sensible policing, and I get reports of one of my officers trying to break the sound barrier in a departmental car. And you know what makes it worse?” Roslyn shook her head. “What makes it worse is that you had to decide to cut someone off and nearly cause an accident. And that someone just happened to be the Governor this state. You have no idea how much crap I have taken because of your stupidity!”

“Sorry boss.” Oh crap, this is worse than I thought, I am really going to have the book thrown at me this time.

Malone continued, “I have, however, managed to fob them off.”

“Sir?” Malone was looking smug. Roslyn started to worry.

“I have assured them that you will be getting extra training.”

“Training?” Oh double crap, not back to the academy for retraining?

“You leave for Washington DC in three days. I’m sending you to NCIS?”

“Who?”

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA
“To be frank, Senior Sergeant Wallace, the department heads feel that you would benefit from an extended period of overseas duty.”

The brunette eyed Assistant Commissioner Hastings suspiciously. Oh yes? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Apart from the fact that you can’t stand the idea of a woman rising any higher than senior constable. And the fact I’ve made it two ranks higher than that really pees you off. Why the hell did I think I could make it in this old boys club anyway? “Overseas duty, sir?”

“Yes, Senior Sergeant. The Commissioner has authorized your secondment to an American agency. Your paperwork is all here.” He handed a folder of papers across the desk. “You fly out on Friday.”

“Which agency am I being seconded to, sir?”

“NCIS.”

“Who?”

Back at her desk, Senior Sergeant Samantha Wallace googled. “Naval Criminal Investigative Service? Bloody hell! I get sick on the Manly ferry!” Sam stared horrified at the screen. Senior Constable Tony Carey wandered across to look, “So that’s where you’re going, is it Sammy?”

Samantha gritted her teeth. I wish I’d never mentioned how much I hate being called Sammy.

“Ohhhh, you’ll have so much fun. All those lovely sailors!” He batted his eyelashes at her, camping it up for all he was worth. Oh Lord. Here it comes. More of his excruciating wit! Tony minced across the room and out into the corridor singing ‘In the Navy’. Sam sat and listened to the laughter coming from the office next door as Tony filled them in with the details of her assignment. She looked back at the screen. Sod it! NCIS has got to be better than the AFP. It can’t possibly be bloody worse! Maybe, just maybe, that idiot Hastings has done me a favour.

NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C.
Jenny Shepard sat at her desk, three brand new NCIS personnel files in front of her. Brand new files, but already fairly chunky with paperwork. Jenny’s grin was evil as she looked at them. She was going to enjoy this. Every damn moment. This round was going to Jenny Shepard.

Special Agent in Charge Leroy Jethro Gibbs walked into Director Jenny Shepard’s office without bothering to knock. This morning’s summons was unusual and he was prepared to bet that Jenny was up to something. The smirk on her face confirmed it. Gibbs heeled the door closed and leaned against it. “You wanted to see me, Director?”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed. Got her! Gibbs’ smile was bland and innocent. “As a matter of fact, Jethro, yes I did. I have a new assignment for you.”

Gibbs eyebrows went skywards. “You’ve been making a habit of coming down to the squadroom to brief everyone. Why the summons?”

Jenny’s smirk turned feral. “Because the assignment is for you alone. Tony can run the team for the duration of your assignment. You may need to use the team from time to time, and that is fine by me.”

Solo assignment? What the hell is she up to? “What’s the assignment?”

Jenny pushed the three files across her desk towards Gibbs. “I want you to personally train these three new trainees. We are expanding at rate that means we need more agents, and I have agreed to take on and train these three women, with a view to retaining them as agents and liasions when their traineeship is up.”

Gibbs threw Jenny ‘The Look’. “Check their files, Jethro’. Gibbs rapidly scanned the salient points from the files. He looked back at Jenny. It was obvious the women all had two things in common. “They all have authority issues and short fuses.”

Jenny’s smile was beatific. “And if anyone can train them you can. If nothing else, the fact that you have authority issues and a short fuse means you will at least be able to understand where they are coming from.” Though given your track record with women, Jenny thought, probably not.

Gibbs opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t argue with me, Jethro. You’re by far the best at training good agents. Look at Tony.” Her smile softened, “Look at me.”

Gibbs shut his mouth and glared at her. Jenny’s smile grew wicked again, “Take the files and get acquainted with the foibles of your new trainees. They’ll be here 9am tomorrow, eager to start training.”

Gibbs picked up the files and strode out of Jenny’s office, slamming the door shut. As he stalked through the outer office, he could hear Jenny’s laughter behind him.

THE SQUADROOM
Tony DiNozzo looked up from his desk as Gibbs came stalking through the squadroom. “Morning boss.” Gibbs ignored him, dropping three files on his desk and picking up the phone. “Ducky? Gibbs. You busy? Good. I’ll be right down.” The receiver was slammed back on its cradle, Gibbs picked up the files and stalked away.

McGee opened his mouth to speak. Tony looked across at him. “Somehow, I don’t think this a good time to say anything, Probie.”

McGee watched their boss disappearing out of the squadroom, his body language clearly broadcasting his anger. And the day had started so well too. He looked back at Tony. “So what happened?”

“Without any information, or evidence to build a case on, I will say only this.” Tony smirked. “Director 1, Gibbs 0.”

“Three files.” Tony and McGee looked across at Ziva. “Gibbs was carrying three files.”

“So?”

“Over the last week, at the Director’s instruction, I have collected three women from the airport and taken them to rented accommodation in the city.”

“Three women?” Tony’s eyes lit up. Ziva wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or anticipation.

Ziva nodded. “A woman from New York, one from Spain and one from Australia. Three women. Three files.”

McGee frowned, “The Director asked you to pick up the women?”

“Yes. She felt as they would be more comfortable being met by a strange woman rather than a strange man.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “New agents, perhaps?”

McGee looked at the other two, “And Gibbs to train them?” Tony and Ziva looked at him. “Well, he trained you, Tony. And the Director as well.”

“It is possible,” Ziva agreed. “The women are all from different law enforcement agencies. None of them navy or marines.”

Tony looked towards Gibbs’ desk. He frowned. Something did not feel right here. “What the hell is the Director up to now?”

Ziva suddenly laughed. Tony and McGee looked at her warily. “The Director may have bitten of more than she can chow.”

“You mean chew,” Tony said.

“That as well. I have met these women. They are all strong women. Strong opinions. Strong ideas. I do not think they will take kindly to being used as prawns…”

“Pawns!” chorused Tony and McGee.

“….in any power games. The fur will fly, I think.” Ziva laughed again, this time the laughter had an evil edge to it.

Tony and McGee looked at Ziva and then at each other. Tony spoke, summing up both their feelings. “I wonder how much vacation time I’ve got owing? I have this sudden urge to head for the beach. ANY beach.”

AUTOPSY
Dr Donald Mallard looked up as the doors opened to admit Gibbs. He took one look at Gibbs’ expression, pulled down his surgical mask, and turned to his assistant. “Mr Palmer, why don’t you take a break? Go and get yourself a coffee.”

“It’s really quite all right, doctor. I don’t need a break.”

Ducky rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t exactly a suggestion, Mr Palmer.”

Jimmy took one look at Gibbs’ face and bolted for the door. “A coffee. Yes, excellent idea Dr Mallard. I really want a coffee. Maybe even a donut. Or two!”

Gibbs dropped the files he was carrying onto a vacant autopsy table and glared at Ducky.

“Problems, Jethro?

“Three of them, Duck.” He gestured at the files.

“New cases?”

“New trainees.”

“Ah. And our erstwhile Director wants you to personally train them?”

“You knew?”

“No. But knowing the Director and knowing you, it really wasn’t a very long bow to pull.”

Gibbs looked like he had bitten into a lemon. “Three women. All from different countries. All law enforcement officers. All with attitude problems. She is up to something, Duck. I know it.”

“You can’t know that for certain, Jethro.”

“I may not know how I am being shafted, Duck, but I know when!” The frustration and anger was evident in Gibbs’ voice.

Gibbs picked up the first file. “Roslyn Danvers. Detective with the NYPD. Major authority issues and complete disregard for the chain of command.” The file slammed back onto the table. “Amaia Bengoa, translator for the Basque police, nearly killed an American tourist she was helping to interrogate.” The second file slammed down on top of the first. “And finally…” The third file slammed down on top of the other two. “Samantha Wallace, Australian Federal Police. Was a detective. Busted back to uniform in circumstances not detailed in her file. Three women with attitudes that need major readjustment, and Jen just happens to select them for NCIS trainees? You going to stand there Duck and insist that I am not being shafted?” Both hands flat on the table Gibbs leaned forward and glared at his old friend.

Ducky sighed. “You’re being shafted,” he agreed. “But for heaven’s sake, Jethro, don’t take it out on these poor women.”

“You know me better than that, Duck,” Gibbs said in tones of mild reproach. “If there is even the slightest possibility of making good agents out of them, I’ll do it. But I won’t be doing it for Director Shepard.” The last two words were ground out. “I’ll be doing it for these women, and for myself, and for NCIS.”

Ducky beamed at him. “You know that any help I can possibly give, Jethro, I will.”

Gibbs’ smile was wicked, “I’ll hold you to that Duck.” He gathered up the files and turned to leave. At the door, he turned back. His eyes held an evil glint and the small smile that now twitched his lips was definitely a smirk. “I think Director Shepard needs to be reminded that no-one screws with me and gets away with it.” With that, Gibbs strode out of autopsy to return the files to personnel.

Ducky watched him ago. He turned back to the cadaver he’d been working on before Gibbs had arrived. “Oh dear,” he sighed. “And you thought you had problems, young man.” He looked back towards the door. “You know, I do think things are going to be interesting around here, for quite some time to come.”

Ducky pulled up his surgical mask, picked up his scalpel and, humming contentedly to himself, returned to his work.

A HOUSE IN WASHINGTON DC, THE NEXT DAY
Samantha sat sipping her morning coffee, the remains of her breakfast on the plate in front of her. She could hear her housemates, Ros and Amaia clattering around their respective rooms.

Sam took another sip of coffee. Today was going to be interesting. Today they officially began as trainees with NCIS. Sam thought back over the last few days. Hurried packing and arranging for her belongings to be shipped over. Arriving in Washington to be met by the Israeli woman, Ziva David, and the Director. Sam frowned slightly. It was unusual for someone at Director Shepard’s level to greet new trainees away from the office. Sam was willing to bet that the Director was playing a double game. I don’t like being anyone’s chess piece. When she had met Roslyn and Amaia they had confirmed that Director Shepard had been present when they were collected from the airport. Samantha grinned, I wonder what they think about it. Might have to ask them. Or maybe I’m just being suspicious. Occupational hazard being in the poor man’s FBI. The Australian Federal Police. Only Australia could conceive an outfit that acts as the national capital’s police force and also has the authority to stick its nose in everybody else’s business. Sam sipped her coffee. She thought about Director Shepard again. The Director had seemed far too pleased with herself. She is definitely up to something. I might have to do some research and call in some markers. I don’t like being used, by anyone. Hastings doesn’t have the nous to have approached NCIS to get rid of me. The approach had to have come from NCIS.

Sam looked up as Ros came into the kitchen. “Any coffee left in the pot, or have you drunk the lot?”

Sam waved towards the counter. “Help yourself. I made heaps. Do you want any breakfast?”

Ros shuddered. “No thanks. I only ever have coffee first thing.” She poured a cup and dropped into the seat opposite Sam. “Amaia’s still in the bathroom. Let’s hope she’s finished before the car arrives.” She sipped her coffee. “This is going to be an interesting 12 months. We could all end up fully fledged suits with badges.” Ros laughed.

Sam grinned, “Well, you will. Director Shepard was quite clear that Amaia and I would end up as official liaison people, like Ziva is.”

“That Ziva is one hard case lady. Remind me never to get her pissed at me.”

A fire engine went screaming past. Both women looked towards the window. Ros frowned. “I was talking to one of our neighbors yesterday. Seems we’ve got an arsonist in the area.”

Sam pulled a face. “Let’s hope he steers clear of this place. It’s not much, but it’s a roof over our heads.”

Ros shrugged. “We’ll find something better once the 3 month lease on this place is up.” She watched a cockroach scuttle out from under the fridge. “Hopefully it will be somewhere without live-in wildlife.”

The doorbell rang. Ros yelled out, “Amaia, shift your ass. Our ride’s here.” The redhead came hurrying out of the bathroom, curls bouncing. “I am ready. I think.” The three women grabbed their jackets and headed for the door. Ziva David stood waiting for them. “Good morning. I have to take you to be issued with shields and identity papers before your meeting with Director Shepard and…” Ziva paused,”…your trainer.”

Amaia pulled a face. “That makes us sound like puppies.”

Ros grinned, “Nah. Fully grown bitches.”

Sam laughed, “Who have already failed obedience class.”

Ziva watched the three women walk towards the car laughing. I do not envy Gibbs. He will have his hands full. And it will be interesting to watch him cope, or not. Ziva followed them to the car, grinning widely.

NCIS HEADQUARTERS
The three women stood before Director Shepard’s desk. Jenny Shepard looked at them and smiled to herself. This is going to be interesting. “Welcome to NCIS, ladies. I personally selected each of you because you have unique abilities that will be an asset to NCIS.”

Bullcrap!, thought Ros.

Oh yes?, thought Amaia

Definitely up to something, Sam mused.

“Your trainer will be along shortly. He is one of the best agents NCIS has ever produced. I know you will do your very best for him and for NCIS.” Jenny smirked, If I’ve judged them correctly, I have just set the conditions for all three of them to fight Jethro at every turn. Teach him a long overdue lesson.

Once again, Gibbs didn’t bother to knock, just chucking the door open and heeling it closed behind him. He glanced briefly at the three women, who had jumped at his abrupt entry, and turned his attention to Jenny. "Director.”

Damn him! Does he have to do that? “Good morning Jethro.” Jenny turned to the three woman, “This is Special Agent Gibbs, who will be training you.”

Amaia, Sam and Ros exchanged looks. They all thought the same thing, Jethro? You have got to be kidding!

“These are your new trainees. Amaia Bengoa, Roslyn Danvers and Samantha Wallace.”

Gibbs turned his attention to the women. He looked at the redhead, her green eyes eyed him with frank appraisal. Her look taking him in from head to toe, and lingering briefly below his belt. Gibbs got the feeling she was assessing his potential. Just what I don’t need. A female DiNozzo!

The blonde with the sharp blue eyes returned his gaze with barely concealed hostility, though Gibbs was sure he could see laughter dancing in there too. This one is going to be trouble. I’m male and her immediate superior. That’s two strikes against me before we even begin.

Gibbs turned his attention to the brunette. Cool grey eyes returned his appraisal measure for measure. Hmmmm. This one is interesting. Eyes are giving nothing away.

Gibbs turned back to Jenny, “If that’s all, Director, I’ll take our new trainees on a tour of the facilities before we commence training.” He turned back to the girls and gestured towards the door. Gibbs opened the door and began to walk out, the girls following. Ros began to whistle a tune as they followed Gibbs out. Jenny hurriedly turned away to hide her laughter. Roslyn was whistling the Beverley Hillbillies theme. As the door closed behind them, Jenny sank down into her chair giving way to the laughter she had tried to hide. Jethro, I really do think you’re going to have your work cut out.

The three women followed Gibbs out of the Director’s office. As they followed him to the top of the stairs Amaia asked, “Where are we going, sir?”

Gibbs stopped and turned to them. “Do not ‘sir’ me. You can call me boss or Gibbs.”

“Yes Boss,” the three women chorused.

Gibbs ignored the original question and continued down the stairs, the three women following behind. Looking around from his desk, Tony saw Gibbs coming down the stairs with three attractive women in tow. He got up and hurried towards them. McGee and Ziva watched him go.

“Boss, boss, wait up.”

Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks. Tony noticed the brunette immediately behind Gibbs cannoned into his back and rocked backwards with an audible ooph. The blonde grabbed her arms to steady her. The brunette glared at Tony as if her squashed breasts and almost loss of dignity were his fault.

“What is it DiNozzo?”

Tony was looking at the women. Brunette’s annoyed with me. The blonde’s kind of cute. The redhead… Oh Crap! Tony’s charming smile was suddenly replaced with a look of stunned amazement with overtones of embarrassment.

Gibbs looked at DiNozzo, the irritation clear on his face.

Sam looked at Ros. “Do you always have that effect on men?”

Ros shook her head. “Nup. I thought that was you.”

“Nope. I only get that reaction from men when I kick them in certain delicate places.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Often enough that I recognise the reaction.” Sam laughed evilly.

“Maybe it’s Amaia.” They both turned, smiling, to their colleague. Amaia’s face wore a similar expression to DiNozzo’s.

Both women looked at her. Sam looked at Ros. “Amaia arrived first, didn’t she?”

“Yup. Day before me.”

“Works fast then.”

“Sure looks like it.” Ros grinned, “Hey Red, do you make a habit of picking up strange men in bars?”

Amaia shrugged delicately. “It was a nightclub and I was lonely.” She looked at Tony from beneath slightly lowered lashes. “Hello Tony,” she purred. He is one hell of an attractive man. Not to mention a good lover. Nice that I am in a position to see him regularly.

Tony’s mouth and throat suddenly went dry. He swallowed audibly. “Hello Amaia.” He glanced sideways at Gibbs. Gibbs did not look happy. I think Gibbs is going to kill me.

Ros grinned, “He remembers your name. That’s a good sign.” She grinned evilly at Tony, who looked uncomfortable. “Are you going to be bringing men home on a regular basis?”, she asked Amaia.

Sam laughed, “Why do you want to know? Hoping Amaia will share?”

Tony stood there wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

Ros chuckled, “Nup. I worked porn for 3 years. There is only so much of listening to other people’s private entertainment I can take.”

“I can relate."

Gibbs’ face was expressionless as he looked at Tony. He didn’t say a word. Tony started to back away. “It was nothing that won’t keep, boss. I’ll talk to you later.” Tony fled. He scuttled back to his desk, ignoring the smirk on Ziva’s face.

Gibbs watched Tony flee, and then turned and walked away, the women hurrying along behind him. He led them along narrow corridors, before opening a door and ushering them inside. “Wait here.” Gibbs closed the door and left.

The room was obviously an interrogation room. There was a table with a chair on either side of it, and one of the walls was mirrored. Amaia pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Sam leaned against the back wall, her eyes on the mirrored wall. Ros dropped down to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Ros grinned up at Amaia. “What do you reckon the odds were that the first guy you’d pick up in America would be an NCIS agent?” She laughed softly.

Amaia laughed with her. “I didn’t think to ask him what he did for a living. I had other things on my mind. And afterwards…” Her laugh was wicked.

Ros noticed that Sam was blushing slightly. She changed the subject. “What do you think of the boss?”

Amaia grinned, “Very tasty. But possibly too old.”

Sam raised her eyebrows, “Too old?”

“Men as they get older, sometimes they don’t last as long. The silver hair is very sexy, but the performance may not measure up.”

“Oh.” The blush deepened. I had to ask, didn’t I?

Amaia looked at Sam quizzically, “You are not comfortable talking about sex?”

Sam shrugged. “I have always valued friendship over sex. Sometimes the two can go together, which makes for great relationships. But casual sexual relationships aren’t for me.”

Ros spoke up quickly, “I meant everyone’s first impressions of the boss, not necessarily his credentials as a possible stud.” She grinned viciously, carefully not looking at the mirrored wall.

“Ah, I see.” Amaia looked thoughtful. “He does not say much. He will be difficult to get to know.”

Ros grinned, “I’m guessing he was Navy or Marine Corps. He’s got the King Crap of Crap Mountain attitude that my father had. Dad was a Master Chief Petty Officer in the Navy. A grade one S.O.B. What do you think, Sam?” She winked.

Sam caught the wink and grinned, Ros knows. “What I think will remain unspoken.”

“But that is not fair,” Amaia, protested, “Why not tell us?”

Sam laughed and looked at the dead centre of the mirror. “Because right at this moment, Special Agent Gibbs is behind that mirror watching and listening to every word we say.” She grinned impudently.

Amaia looked alarmed. “How can you know this?”

“I don’t. But it’s exactly what I would do. And exactly what Ros would do too, I bet.”

“Yup,” the blonde agreed.

Sam continued to address the mirror. “You’re not going to learn anything useful, boss. So can we please continue our little tour of the facilities?” She smiled sweetly at the mirror.

In the observation room, Gibbs grinned. Just as well the others weren’t here to hear that lot. Roslyn and Samantha are quick. Amaia talks too much. Gibbs laughed softly. I wasn’t wrong when I thought she was a female DiNozzo. Roslyn’s good at stirring things up, with that comment. Samantha thinks more than she speaks. Always an asset. I should be able to make a team out of them. A good team at that. They’ve bonded already. Still laughing quietly to himself, Gibbs exited the room.

Throwing open the interrogation room door, he gestured for the girls to come out, his face expressionless. But as he turned away to lead them up the corridor, Sam noticed the hint of a smile. He has a sense of humor. This might work after all.