Disclaimer: I really don't have to go over this again do I? We all know the deal don't we?

Author's Note: This is the 10th Chapter of my Mike Franks story "El Viejo". I never thought it would go more then maybe five or so. On TV, shows make a big fuss over their 100th episode. So I'm going to make a small fuss over my 10th. Thanks to all of you who have come along for the ride. Special kudos to the following, who have encouraged, cajoled and downright nagged me into this: M E Wofford & elflordsmistress, they're the main reason we're all here. Also the people who read me all the time, BAMACHRUSH,finlaure,MissJayne,chrissyjoy,4sweetdreams,USAFCHIEF,alix33, thanks for stoppin' by. At the end I'll have a question for you. But for now, sit back and enjoy.

Spoilers: Hiatus 1&2, for flashbacks. If you want you could go back and read "Beer & Memories" to sort of reacquaint yourself with an OC I created.

Technical Notes- Wouldn't be one of my stories w/o at least a couple:

FLETC- Federal Law Enforcement Training Center. Located in Glynn County, Georgia. NCIS started sending its Special Agents there for standardized training in 1984.

CITP- Criminal Investigator Training Program. 60 day school for federal agents other then FBI.

Colt Python- .357 Magnum revolver manufactured by Colt Industries between 1955 and 1996. It has a very distinctive appearance due to a full under lug and ventilated rib barrel.

ADO- Assistant Director for Operations. Don't know if NCIS has one. But they do now.

SAC- Special Agent in Charge. The man or woman who runs the Field Office.

SAC's Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, October 1991, 1400hrs.

"Are you sure you want to take this on, Franks?"

Senior Special Agent Mike Franks looked at SAC Harold "Iron Ass" Applegate and grunted.

"Hell yes. I think the kid'll do fine."

The "kid" in question was soon to be former Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, USMC. SAC Applegate glanced at the file on his desk.

"Dr. Philbin says that Gibbs' psych evaluation is good."

Franks grunted again.

"I wonder if he'd say that if he'd been with me on the beach when I found the kid about ready to eat his Berretta."

"He also says that Gibbs is coping well with the death of his wife and daughter."

Mike grunted a third time.

"What a tool this shrink is. Gibbs is coping 'cause I let him get a peek at the file. Then I'm pretty sure he went to Mexico and iced the scum that killed his family. 'Course I can't prove that."

"So, are you gonna hire him or not Harold?"

"I've got the okay from Washington. His spot is reserved at FLETC. He'll report November 1 for CITP and be back here the first week in January."

Mike stood.

"Sounds good. If that's all, I've got boo-coo paperwork to catch up on."

Applegate raised a hand.

"One more thing. I've gotten another memo from the ADO about your Python. You know that the agency is phasing out personal firearms. It's only a matter of time before he makes it an order."

Franks had moved to the door. His hand on the knob, Mike turned his head.

"With all due respect, you can tell the ADO for me…"

Mike opened the door.

"…to take a running fuck at a rolling donut."

Mike slid out the door and closed it softly. Sitting across from the door was a civvy clad Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Franks grinned.

"I'd give it a few minutes before knocking on his door, Gunny."

Code Four Lounge, Oceanside CA, 1630hrs.

True to his word, Mike Franks had done some overdue paperwork when he left the SAC. He was now enjoying a couple of beers prior to heading home. The bar was starting to fill up. The 8 to 4 shift was filtering in. Gibbs slid onto the bar stool next to him.

"Thanks for going to bat for me, Agent Franks."

Mike looked at the young man sitting next to him. With the still short "high and tight" hair cut and brand new, obviously off the rack suit, Gibbs looked like he just got out of San Quentin.

"Gonna have to spruce this kid up when he gets back from FLETC."

"No problem, Gunny. Don't thank me yet. You've still gotta pass CITP."

"Agent Applegate said he thought I'd have no problem."

Franks stood, finishing his beer.

"Well, we'll see. Enjoy your two month vacation in Georgia. 'Cause when you get back, your ass belongs to me."

NCIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton, Two months later, 0700hrs.

Mike Franks pulled into the field office parking lot. He hated Monday's. There had been no cases over the weekend. This meant cold case reviews. He hated cold case reviews like Fleet sailors hated rust. His mood lightened as he spied Gibbs' pickup. The New Guy would be perfect for cold case reviews.

Franks breezed into the bullpen. There were six pairs of desks facing each other. Gibbs was emptying a cardboard box into the drawers of the desk facing Mike's.

"Mornin', Probie."

"Good Morning, Sir"

Mike's face stiffened.

"Don't 'Sir' me Gibbs. I work for a livin'. You can call me Franks, Agent Franks or Boss. Don't 'Sir' me."

Jethro's face had blanched during Mike's mini rant.

"Yes, si..Boss."

Mike smiled.

"Better, Probie. Settlin' in okay?"

Gibbs just nodded.

Mike's smile got wider.

"After you get your trash organized, we'll go over some things. I'll be back in fifteen."

Franks went to the head, had a cigarette and came back.

"OK, first thing. Here's your key ring. This first key is for the supply locker, second key is the afterhours evidence drop box, third key is for our car, and no you're not driving anytime soon. Second thing, you've been issued your weapon and credentials right?"

Gibbs nodded in the affirmative.

Mike laughed.

"Cat got your tongue, Probie?"

"No, Boss."

"See, that wasn't so hard. C'mon we're gonna take a ride."

Mike and Gibbs walked out to the parking lot. There were half a dozen Ford Crown Vics.

"We just got these the other day. You shoulda seen the crap we were drivin' before."

Mike stopped by the third car from the doorway. He opened the trunk.

"You're responsible for keepin' her clean inside and out, gassed and stocked up with supplies. Woe betide you if I ever go in here and find no gloves, film or anything else I need at a crime scene missing."

"Yes, Boss."

"Let's go for that ride."

Mike drove them to a nondescript brick building next to the Provost Marshal's Office.

"We share forensic techs with Marine CID. The lead tech is ours though. Her name is Bailey Coopersmith. Got degrees from Caltech and UCLA. She's sharp as a K-Bar with a tongue to match."

Gibbs and Mike walked up to a steel door watched over by a surveillance camera. Mike looked up. The door lock buzzed. Both men walked thru the door and down a short hallway to a lab.

Standing in front of a computer wearing a white lab coat was the aforementioned Bailey Coopersmith. 5'6", long straight blond hair and a surfer girl tan. She turned her head and smiled. Hazel eyes danced with humor.

"Well, if it isn't El Viejo and his new gun bearer. Good Morning, guys."

"Hi, Coop. Meet Probationary Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Hello Leroy."

Bailey stuck out her hand. She noticed the slight grimace when she said "Leroy".

As they shook hands, she said, "Leroy no good?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"Gibbs or Jethro would be better."

"Fair enough, Gibbs. Call me Coop. Everybody does."

"Any words of wisdom for my Probie, Coop?"

Bailey's eyes got serious.

"Always, always wear gloves at a crime scene. Contaminate my evidence and I'll have your ass. Do you smoke?"

"Ah, no."

"Good, you can keep an eye on the Boss and make sure his ashes and cigarette butts don't wind up in my evidence."

"Christ, Bailey it was one freakin' time."

"One time is too many, Bossman." she said sweetly.

"C'mon Probie, let's get movin'."

"Aw, Franks, don't go away mad…"

"I know the rest, Coop. Don't say it."

Bailey's laugh followed them into the corridor. Franks mumbled something about "smart assed scientists".

The two agents got into the Crown Vic and headed back for the office.

"Well Gibbs, fun time is over. Back to the salt mine. Cold case files await."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"When there are no active jobs we review cold cases."

Several hours later Mike saw that Gibbs' eyes were starting to glaze over. He laughed, leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

"Welcome to the exciting world of Federal law enforcement, Probie."

A/N: Okay folks what do ya think? If you liked it please hit that green button. If you didn't like it hit the green button. See, it's a win-win. Now for the question I said I was going to ask. There are now ten Mike stories. Which one was your favorite? Inquiring minds want to know. Well actually I want to know. You can include it in your review if you'd like, or not, it's up to you.