Strange Strangers

A/N: WARNING! Self-insertion fic. If you don't like it, then, you've been warned. Too much time on my hands during work. LOL. This is what happens if I of all people found themselves working at NCIS. What could possibly go wrong? Anything and everything when you try and stay out of trouble.


"Agent… Agent Tionnaire," I heard the annoyed tone of a female. It was really intriguing to hear the shh sound at the beginning of the name. With that, it sounded French.

"Sorry… What?" I looked around. My mind snapped out of the daydreaming when I noticed that the fiery red-head was waiting for me to respond. What the hell was I doing in the Director's office of NCIS? Don't tell me I fell asleep while watching NCIS once again. Guess, I should really cut down on my viewing.

"I'm welcoming you to our NCIS," the woman before me was Jenny. Well at least I wasn't sitting across from Vance. He's not a very popular guy with us. But he's not too bad really. It's Jenny I'm more concerned about. Oh wait, I guess I've gone off track here.

"Thank you, Jenny," I responded to her. Well how else was I supposed to respond to a person that I've seen more regularly than my own mother? The look in her eyes said it all. She wasn't too pleased with me calling her by her first name. "Ma-am, Madam, uh Madam Director," I rattled off a few titles to see if I could find one she liked.

"I'll show you to your workstation," Jenny said as she got to her feet.

"Thank you," I said with a curt nod.

With Jenny referring to me as Agent Tionnaire, it was safe to presume that my first name was Fic. Surprise, surprise that my name in this NCIS world is my Fan fiction penname. I resisted the urge to poke Jenny or anyone walking by. How could this be happening? It was definitely a dream. I had attempted several techniques to see if I was dreaming. Flicking a light switch on and off had only succeeded in infuriating Jenny. Maybe I was already in a lucid dream.

"Cool," I said louder than I thought.

"What was that Agent Tionnaire?" Jenny asked as we descended the stairs into squad room.

"Nothing," I quickly responded.

"Excuse me?" Jenny looked annoyed again. I'm not sure how long I've been here, but I've already managed to rub the authority up the wrong way.

"Madam, ma-am, miss, Mrs.?" I rattled off the titles once again. Sooner or later, I'd hit the right one.

"I don't know how they do things in… Where are you from?" Jenny asked me.

I thought my accent gave that away, or lack of an accent. It depends on which way you look at it. "Australia. The Western side that is," I answered her. "We're pretty informal down there. But I'll make sure I'll be respectful from now on Madam Director," I said as we passed the infamous bullpen.

"Good… This is your workstation," Jenny showed me a cubicle.

I surveyed the surroundings once again. I know I've seen it all before. Nothing was different to the show even down to the horrible orangey walls. Yuck! The Bullpen was only a few feet away. "Wait a second… Just hang on," I said in a surprised tone. "Wasn't this Pacci's desk?" I asked. "Don't get me wrong… I'm not complaining. I just don't want to die," okay, so I was complaining. "You know, there are some chairs or even objects that are believed to be cursed. For instance, in Ninety-five in Louisiana. A young couple had recently-."

"You and Dr Mallard should get along fine," Jenny smirked as she interrupted my story. It's not fair that people, even in my dreams are interrupting my strange but true tales. "I got to get going," she bid her farewell.

I smiled back at her. I do have a thing for red-heads. Just ask some people that know me. Jenny's a fine looking woman, of course, but she doesn't hold a candle to Scully. But that's another story, that's another dream. Enough of that, anyway, it felt strange to go through something I had no business going through. If this was Pacci's desk… Then it's safe to assume I'm working cold cases. I pulled the first folder out of the cabinet and placed it on the desk. People have to start from somewhere. "RO 4138… Speak to me," it didn't feel odd to be speaking to the computer. I typed the case file number into the Database.

Damn! Even in a dream, I still had to wear my glasses. Finally, the typed letters became clear as I familiarized myself with the case. It was actually a triple homicide. Originally it was treated as serial murders but the case went colder than Albany in Winter when no new evidence came up.

After a long time of reading, it was taking its toll. I'm so not used to reading like this for any length of time. It had to be knock off time. But that presented yet another hurdle. Where did I live? Where was I staying in this fantasy of mine. "Where the hell do I live?" I asked myself.

There was something I could try. I closed my eyes and pictured my self at a nice apartment or house. That should've worked. I opened my eyes, nope, I was still in the squad room. "Man… This is so frakked up," I said out loud. There were times I had to make sure I didn't say things out loud. Take two… I decided to give it a second try and decided to think even harder.


"Watch it there," I immediately recognized the voice before I opened my eyes. It was impossible to stare in awe at Team Gibbs walking by. They were larger than life. Alright, so I go all gooey when I see famous people. The team was really in a hurry, obviously they were busy. I made a note to introduce myself later, but there was no way I wanted to interrupt them in an appropriate time. Ziva and Tony chatted about something that nothing to do with work whatsoever, I assumed that Gibbs had disappeared on a coffee run. This had turned into the perfect opportunity to nuzzle in. And maybe find out more about myself some way.

"Agent McGee?" I extended my hand over his desk. "Can you help me? I was hoping you could access a personnel file of an Agent Fic Tionnaire," I requested. McGee had an uncanny ability to hack into any mainframes. What's surprising to me, is the Pentagon or the CIA haven't arrested him yet. "It's to do with an old case," I explained to McGee. "Can you make a printout?"

"Sure," McGee answered me. I was sure glad that he didn't question me further.

I was pleased with myself. It didn't seem to be arousing suspicion. I don't see why not and wondered how long this frakked up reality was going to last. Well, I didn't want it to end too quickly. That was the problem with dreams. On the way to the printer, I bumped straight into someone. Gibbs was staring right at me and his gray shirt was covered in precious spilled coffee. To say that Gibbs was pissed was an understatement.

"Shit," that was the first word that came out of my mouth. My first meeting with Agent Jethro Gibbs was shot to hell. There was only one chance at first impressions and I blew it. I came across as a complete idiot. "Sorry, I mean, I uh, um I," I stammered like an idiot alright. Thankfully, my internal fight or flight switch changed to flight and I quickly retrieved the printout and backed out of the bullpen.

The information on Fic Tionnaire, whoops, I mean myself was sparce. At least it had my address on it. It's a far cry from my little place outside of Perth. "Oh man," I pulled out my wallet from the pocket. Don't ask me why I didn't check that before. Credit card, bank card, library card... Alright, that was the usual list of things. Money, good... Driver's license... Driver's license? I've only been on a couple of driving lessons and they weren't they weren't great experiences. This, could be interesting. I looked at the keys and felt my lips broaden into a smile. If this was some sort of alternate reality, why couldn't I have a better picture for his ID. But then again I always looked like a freak on camera. But there was still one problem... What the hell did I drive? To me, all keys looked the same. Well, that meant a trip down to the garage. Was the cars kept there or were they kept somewhere else? They never showed them pulling up to the NCIS building in their transports... Oh boy.

I looked around the garage to see if I could spot my ride. Pretty bloody unlikely, since I had no idea what I was looking for. Why oh why couldn't I have found myself in one of my own fanfiction stories? Then it jumped out at me... A black Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle. It was bulkier than I had imagined. For all those that don't know... a lot of you really. I was writing this story where a demon rode this very motorbike. Well, there it is... It had to be. I walked slowly up to it, maybe it'd set off an alarm or something. Maybe it wasn't mine. With a shaky hand, I put one of the keys into the ignition. It fit in perfectly. I revved up the beast and stroked the frame. The engine sounded like music. "Cool," I said out loud. It was time to get moving and head home...

With a bit of a bunny hop, I managed to get the motorcycle going forward at a breakneck speed of five miles an hour. Why couldn't this reality give me driving skills? I guess that would've been too easy.


My Apartment

What probably was a only a fifteen minute trip, took me about forty minutes of blaring car horns and angry shouts. Hm, next time, I guess I'll try a little faster. Well, my apartment had the basic essentials... A writing desk, a desktop computer and a TV with a DVD player with a shitload of DVDs in the cupboard. At least there was a nice kitchen area and a cozy bedroom. Would it ruin things if I went to sleep? Will I wake up to my own so-so life? I guess only time will tell.


A/N: Alright, this is a silly idea. But anyway, find out on the next installment... As I try and get on Team Gibbs. Will things start going the right way or will things get worse for me? Oh and what could possibly go wrong when I meet Abby? LOL