"Mr. Palmer, are you thirsty?" The question surprised Palmer.
"I guess." He answered, unsure.
"We need gas anyway. Yes, I saw a gas station ahead. Pull in there."
"Shouldn't we get the bodies back to the airfield, Dr. Mallard?" Ducky laughs.
"Mr. Palmer, they are quite dead. I don't think they're going anywhere. But it does remind me of a story told to me by a young ME in New Orleans . . ." Palmer quickly pulls into the gas station.
"That's fascinating, Dr. Mallard." He says, hurriedly, as he shuts the door. Ducky chuckles, as he enters the store. As soon as the door closes, Ducky walks to the back, and unzips the bag. Jenny Shepard looks up at him, and groans.
"Even with the vest, it hurts." He nods sympathetically.
"Quickly. Mr. Palmer will be back any moment." He opens up the back door. Jenny steps out, as he hurriedly closes the door.
"The blood packs worked nicely."
"Good enough to fool them."
"Ducky, I can't thank you enough." He looks her square in the eye.
"I wouldn't do it for anyone else." She hugs him.
"Thank you, Ducky." She whispers, as a sports car comes to a screeching halt next to the forensics van. Jenny opens the passenger door, revealing Kort as the driver.
"You never told me it was him helping you, my dear."
"I can handle it. How long do I have?"
"A year. A month. A day. I'm a doctor, Jenny, not God. However, if you continue with the medication, and loose around 210 pounds . . ."
"Don't like me, Duckie?" Kort said, laughing.
"Goodbye." Duckie clears his throat, grasping her hand for a moment, before she got into the car, and sped off. He climbed back into the van, and managed to dispose of the bag seconds before Palmer climbed in. Ducky tried to hide being out of breath, while Palmer settled in.
"I brought you a cup of tea." Palmer said, handing him the cup. It wasn't until that moment that Palmer saw the tears flowing down Duckie's face.