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The Probie Chronicles

Chapter 2: Job Interrogations Applications

None of the first dozen applicants quite fit anyone's idea of "right" for the team. The first two weeks of screening resulted in nothing but normal work being neglected and patience becoming worn. David, DiNozzo, and McGee couldn't agree on any one person being a potential fit for the job. There were too many ground rules to abide by.

The new teammate must be educated, but not overbearing. The new teammate must look the part of a professional. The new teammate must not be annoying. The new teammate must have a sense of humor. The new teammate may not be allowed to transfer from Legal, Cyber, or the FBI. The new teammate must not matriculate from MIT. The new teammate must not have been a former Marine or assassin. If male, the new teammate must be no shorter than five feet-eleven inches and no taller than six feet-two inches tall. If female, the new teammate must be no shorter than five feet-three inches and no taller than five feet-nine inches tall.

The interviewees faced insurmountable bias.

That guy gave me the creeps. That girl—did you see her nose? I could never work with her; I'd think of the Wicked Witch of The West every time! McGee, this dude is heavier on the geek-speak than you are. Now look, look, look at this kid. Do you think those skinny little hands could fire a gun?

Tony was the harshest critic of all.

Unanimously, however, the three agents agreed that everyone interviewed for the position failed to answer to a satisfactory degree the most important question asked.

Why do you want to do this job?

The various responses were…interesting,

A stocky PI answered with brutal honesty: "Because the FBI isn't hiring."

Tony's jaw flexed in annoyance. "So, what? NCIS was your back-up option?"

Application status: Rejected.

"You have quite an excellent record of cases solved," a freckled geek nodded, jittering in her chair. "And I find field work more satisfying than work in the Cyber Unit. But…I wouldn't have to carry a gun, would I?"

Behind the glass, Ziva's eyebrows flew into her hairline. "Is she serious?"

Application Status: Rejected

And the others who interviewed were just as promising.

"Director Vance made me apply."

Tony skipped an incredulous beat before responding. It was too weird. "Huh. That's interesting."

Application Status: Rejected.

"I thought this was Metro's CSI division."

Taking notes, McGee faltered with his pen mid-sentence, looking up to bore the question into the young crime scene tech's forehead. "You do remember that you checked into the Navy Yard to get in here, right?

Application Status: Rejected

The best was saved for last.

"See, they wouldn't let me join the Marines, so I thought I'd try to get as close to the Corps as I can."

It was at this point that Ziva, conducting the interview, could no longer contain herself.

"Who wouldn't let you join the Marines?" She knew she'd regret asking.

"Well, uh," the man squirmed uncomfortably. "The Marines."

"The Marines," she repeated dumbly. "Oh."

Application Status: Rejected.

Emphatically, unanimously, immediately, and unapologetically.

...

D.C.'s best Chinese take-out wasn't enough to conquer the disappointment and fatigue in the squad room that night.

"Well," McGee ventured tentatively, "Why hire someone else? The three of us can handle it."

Tony and Ziva snorted in unison.

"True." David conceded, running her finger lithely across the edge of the file she was toying with. "But there won't be anyone to deflect the verbal shrapnel when Tony gets into one of his… moods."

She held her partner's gaze and batted her eyelashes innocently against his icy glare.

"Anyway, McGee," Tony groused. "You remember how hard it was when we were one short." It was a very pointed statement. The sigh of defeat was loud. "I have one more interview tomorrow. If that doesn't work out, then—"

"Then what?" Tim interrupted peevishly.

"I'll join him in going on strike," Ziva supplied bitterly. Sighing, she gathered her belongings and rose to leave. "Enough is enough for one day. Good night McGee, Tony." She nodded to each of her partners.

" 'Night," he returned distractedly, already poring over the next personnel file, belonging to a young woman.

"Lucky Number Thirteen," he mused aloud, earning a curious glance from McGee. "Tomorrow, then."