So this is a world I've been working on for awhile, and I have just a few notes to start with. There are a couple different series I want to do with this world, and this is kind of the extraneous material. A lot of it is going to be building relationships between characters of the different shows and funny fluff (can you imagine how much DiNozzo would drive Eliot nuts?). Reviews/commentary are always appreciated. I've never done anything like this before, so it's new territory.

"Too many cops." Parker stood with her arms crossed, narrowing her eyes at Nate.

"They're not cops, Parker," he said for the ninth, maybe tenth time.

"Federal agents." Hardison pointed at the screen before them. "Good federal agents. They solve almost all the cases they take on."

"We need them."

"No we don't," Parker and Hardison said at the same time.

"Eliot?" Nate asked, hoping he'd give him some much-needed backup.

"Hardison, run the profiles for us. Make sure we at least know what we're getting ourselves into."

Hardison sighed, but pressed the button on the remote to get his presentation started. "First off, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He's the dude in charge."

"He looks crabby," Parker said, pointing to the portrait of Gibbs staring daggers into the camera.

Hardison ignored her. "Ex-Marine. Sniper. Obsessive. He doesn't stop until he gets what he wants."

"Sounds familiar," Eliot muttered.

"What was that, Eliot?" Nate asked, knowing full well exactly what he said, and exactly what he meant.

"What does he want?" Parker asked.

"He's big on revenge," Hardison said, switching the screen. "This guy, Pedro Hernandez, killed his family. Guy didn't stand a chance. Gibbs shot him right between the eyes." Hardison changed the screen again. "This guy, Ari Haswari, shot one of his teammates, Caitlin Todd." He flipped up a picture of the smiling agent, then one of her in the morgue, a bullet clean through her skull. "Gibbs hunted him day after day after day until he found him."

"And he killed him, too?" Parker asked.

"Unclear," Hardison answered. "There's a lot of layers to that story, but those secrets are kept tighter than Parker's grip on a stack of cash."

Parker shot him a look.

"Next up," Hardison continued. The screen changed to a picture of a very handsome young man. "Anthony DiNozzo. Italian. Film buff. Pain in the ass."

"Should be used to that," Eliot said.

"I am," Hardison said, continuing without missing a beat. "He's done a lot of undercover work for the agency, including a critical role in taking down René Benoit."

"Anything else about him?"

"He's really, really good at his job. Like, the best there is. If there's anyone we have to be careful of catching up to us after this, it's him."

"I don't know, Hardison, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is pretty good at what he does too." Sophie closed the door to Nate's apartment behind her and came to sit on the couch next to Eliot. She'd been listening through the comms on her way over.

"Anyway," Hardison said, fixing Sophie with a glare, "Next up is Timothy McGee. That guy could give me a run for my money."

"What do you mean?" Parker asked.

"He's a computer genius. He's got a real Master's degree from MIT in computer forensics. And get this. He does, like actual hacking for the government. They let him do the same stuff I do, and it's legal."

Nate looked at him.

"Well not legal, but he's not going to go to jail for it."

"Continue, Hardison."

"Okay, okay. Next up is Abigail Sciuto." Hardison flipped the picture, this time landing on a crazy-looking goth girl. "She's this crazy smart goth chick that does all of NCIS's forensics. She loves animals." He flipped up a picture of her holding a dog and smiling at the camera. "Out of everyone working there, she's probably the strangest duck of them all."

"Why?" Parker asked.

He looked at her. "She's like the world's happiest goth. Something doesn't add up, Parker."

"What's going on there?" Sophie asked, pointing to a photo in the corner of the screen. It showed Jethro Gibbs and Abigail sitting on the floor of what appeared to be an elevator."

"Oh," Hardison said, his face breaking into a wide grin. "That was from when she had this crazy ex-boyfriend stalking her and this other guy that didn't want her to testify against him in court also stalking her, and she was scared so she sat in an elevator for like half a day."

"How is that supposed to keep her safe from a stalker?" Sophie asked.

"No clue. She's crazy."

"Great," Eliot muttered. "Just what we need. More crazy."

"Shut up, Eliot," Hardison retorted.

"Guys. Back to the task at hand, please," Nate demanded. He reached for his coffee mug and found it empty. Sad.

"But what is going on? Why is Mr. Gibbs there with her?"

"Oh, I guess that's pretty important," Hardison said sheepishly. "If we go anywhere near Abby, one or all of us will end up with a bullet in the forehead."

"Why?"

"She's Gibbs' adoptive daughter. Not officially, but they're closer than anyone else on the team. He'd kill anyone that came near her."

"How sweet," Sophie remarked.

"It is," Hardison said. "When that Mikel Mauher guy came after her- the boyfriend- he moved heaven and earth to make sure she was safe. Even took her to his house to keep an eye on her."

"So he's like Eliot."

"I don't think a federal agent goes around beating the shit out of security guards, Parker," Eliot said.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Let's keep it moving," Nate said. He had gotten up to get another cup of coffee, and came back with a bottle of orange soda, which he tossed at Hardison, a box of cereal which was placed in front of Parker, and an orange that went to Eliot.

"Nothing for me?" Sophie asked, feigning hurt.

"Nope. Hardison?"

"Next up: Doctor Donald Mallard, or as they refer to him, 'Ducky.'"

"Cuz his name is Mallard," Parker burst out.

Hardison pinned her with a level gaze. "Yes."

Parker nodded enthusiastically.

"There's not much to know about him. Old. Scottish. Does autopsies. Talks too much. Talks to dead people. You know the type."

"Is that all?" Sophie asked. She was anxious to get into the kitchen and get her hands on some of Eliot's homemade banana bread.

"Nope," Hardison said. "One more." He turned the screen a final time, revealing the last agent. "Mossad agent Ziva David."

Eliot's head snapped up. "What did you say?"

Hardison gave him a bemused look. "Mossad. Ziva David."

"It's Dah-veed," Eliot corrected.

"Yeah, okay. Anyway. Ziva Dah-veed. She speaks like every language. Knows hand to hand, knife throwing, well-versed in firearms. She's like a more dangerous version of Eliot."

"Should we be afraid of her?" Sophie asked, eying the photographs of the lovely young Mossad agent on the screen.

Hardison stole a look at Eliot, who had gone quiet, even for him. He kept his eyes on the table in front of him, methodically dissecting the orange. "Definitely. She was trained to be an assassin for Mossad. She's killed more people than all of us combined."

"Wait a moment," Nate interrupted. "Eliot, how did you know how to pronounce her last name?"

Eliot kept his eyes trained on the remains of his orange.

"Eliot?" Parker asked, reaching over to poke him in the side.

Eliot exploded from the couch and all but bolted out the door. The rest of the team stared after him.

"What was that about?" Nate asked, his eyes accusing Hardison of leaving something important out.

Hardison grinned sheepishly. "Ziva was his girlfriend for three years."