Author's note: As my regular readers know, I have made it a hobby of late to take passages I find on Harry Potter stories that have one crucial word misspelled or misused, and then write stories in which these malapropisms are taken literally. Now, we all know that such passages are not confined to the Harry Potter subcategory; hence, the present collection of NCIS tales. As in the original "Minuets", the attributions may or may not be verifiable when you read this, since the authors in question may choose to correct their syntax, change their pen names, and/or delete their stories; still, you have my word that these passages have all really appeared in this subcategory.
A word about technique. Obviously, none of these vignettes actually reflect the intentions of the authors quoted, and in many cases the whole context of the passage has been radically altered. However, I have made it an ironclad rule that any pronoun will refer to the same person or thing in the Minuet as in the original story, and any direct quote will be attributed to the same character. (And of course this applies to OCs and historical figures as well as to canon characters.)
Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to Donald Bellisario; the stories quoted belong to the authors named; the cover image is by Filippo Baratti; various other allusions to works and persons not my own abound. The stories themselves, however, are strictly my own work.
Other Minuets collections: If you enjoy these tales, you may also wish to look into "Minuets in Aeolian Mode" (Percy Jackson and the Olympians), "Minuets Assemble!" (Avengers [Movies]), "Minuets by John Williams" (Star Wars), "Minuets by Guitar Villain" (Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir), and "Minuets with Bombadil" (Lord of the Rings) – and, of course, the Harry Potter series that started it all, "Minuets in B Minor". All are currently available on my profile.
"'…I didn't know what had happened when I came out and you were gone. I thought…' he trailed off, pushing some grizzly images from his mind." –Inks Inc, "AWOL"
"You thought what?" said McGee.
Gibbs shook his head. "Never mind."
But McGee wasn't to be put off so easily. "No, come on, boss," he pressed. "What did you think?"
Gibbs sighed. "I thought maybe you'd been torn apart by grizzly bears, all right?" he said.
McGee blinked. "Grizzly bears?" he repeated. "In the bullpen?"
"You'd be amazed," said Gibbs grimly. "Ask Tony sometime about what happened to his predecessor…"
"'…He will come in with the knowledge that it is a two year assignment and that he will [be] handing the reigns over to you once he's done,' Jenny said." –JasonMorganfan87, "Moving On"
The Time Gate shimmered, and a tall, heavily built man with a salt-and-pepper beard stepped out. "Agent McGee?" he said, clasping Tim's hand in his. "I'm Brian Logan, FBI Aeon Squad. I gather your Director's warned you about me?"
McGee nodded. "Welcome to the 1st Century, Mr. Logan," he said. "I have the papers right here, turning over the reigns of Galba, Otho, and Vitellius to your Bureau's authority."
"Right," said Logan, frowning. "Look, McGee, I want you to know I'm sorry about this. It's not usually Bureau policy to commandeer Timefleet Criminal Investigative Services' rightful jurisdiction as its own, and we'll return it to you as soon as we've collared our man. But, with your lab's findings making it so clear that one of the 29th Century's most notorious terrorists is hiding out somewhere in the chaos of the Four Emperors period, we can hardly just sit by and do nothing."
"I completely understand, Mr. Logan," said McGee. "We're happy to have your people on the case – just so long as none of you goes beyond your assignment, and decides to enter the timestream outside the years 68 and 69."
Logan chuckled. "Well, that's fair enough," he said. "All right, let's see these crime scene photos of yours."
McGee handed him the envelope, and he withdrew the snapshots of Petty Officer Lambent's mutilated body and scowled down at them distastefully. "Yep, that's the M.O., all right," he said. "Nasty business, isn't it?"
McGee shrugged. "Just another day at TCIS."
"[W]ell[,] I already asked your sectary if you had anyone with you and she said you didn't…" –JoL1986, "Baby Makes Four"
"Your Shepherdess in there?" said Gibbs, gesturing toward the mystically decorated tent.
The young woman in front of the tent raised her kohl-painted face in surprise. "Um… yes, sir, she is," she said. "But she's in the middle of her Celestial Communion right now, so perhaps if…"
"No-one's with her, then?"
The young sectary seemed confused. "No… no, of course not," she said. "But…"
"Good," said Gibbs, and stepped forward.
"Sir, no!" the girl exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "You mustn't interrupt the Shepherdess while she's trafficking with the sidereal intelligences; you'll bring down the tabu of the Cosmic All-Soul upon…"
Gibbs shook her off without a word, and entered the tent. Within sat a woman in a yellow robe, dropping incense into a burner; as the candlelight glinted off her red hair, Gibbs had to swallow down a sudden onrush of poignant memories. Good to see she found an excuse not to shave her own head, anyway, he thought.
At the sound of his footsteps, the woman looked up sharply; her eyes met his, and her face turned deathly pale. "Jethro!" she exclaimed.
Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, it's me," he said. "Been a while, hasn't it, Jen?"
"So Yuri began to relate, again, how the fish farm was a front for the importation of Vodka and cigarettes from Russia, and the Eastern Block." –akaeve, "Corryvreckan"
"You have the stuff?" Sergei whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was lurking behind one of the salmon tanks.
Yuri nodded, and withdrew a bottle from beneath his trenchcoat. "Nothing but the best, for my esteemed colleague," he said. "Russian Standard Imperia, straight from St. Petersburg… and," he added, reaching in again and pulling out a small carton, "Lucky Strikes from that gas station at the intersection."
"Aah!" Sergei moaned in rapturous ecstasy.
Stefan, who was mopping up a few yards away, rolled his eyes. Bad enough that a couple of D.C. fish farmers should be trying to break into the clandestine-imports business, but where they got the idea that this one particular block on Eastern Avenue constituted a foreign power… clearly, it was true what they said about the air in Washington.
"We really ought to branch out into exports, one of these days," Sergei remarked, lighting one of the cigarettes and taking a long drag.
"Oh, I agree," said Yuri. "There are so many excellent foreign markets available: Switzerland, the Emirates, the corner of 16th and K…"
"Oh, brother," Stefan muttered.