The Prince and the Palmer
by channelD
written for: the NFA A Case of Mistaken Identity challenge
rating: K plus
genre: humor
characters: Jimmy and some others
xoxoxoxoxo
disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.
xoxoxoxoxo
Chapter 1
Jimmy had just set down the book he'd decided he wasn't going to buy (his budget being tight this month). That's when he suddenly looked into a pair of green-hazel eyes…
…very much like his own green-hazel eyes, and also with round, black-rimmed glasses.
What a strange place for a mirror; in a busy bookstore, he thought. Ah, I have a crumb on my face. He reached up and brushed it away. And there's another one! One swipe and it was gone. Then he ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking up a bit.
Wait; I don't remember putting on a purple shirt this morning. Do I even own a purple shirt? He looked down. No, the shirt he wore was blue. Was it a trick of the light? It must be.
Then his reflection blinked and smiled. "Extraordinary!" it said, and Jimmy jumped. He didn't realize he'd said that.
And he hadn't, he saw then. What he'd taken for a mirror was someone who looked enough like him to be his double. "Extraordinary!" the other man said again, in a soft accent that Jimmy couldn't place. "Are you a distant relative of mine, my dear fellow?"
Jimmy shook the offered hand. "I don't know…who are you?"
His double laughed, and bowed slightly. "Prince Jhon of Rhumbhertia, at your service. I am in Washington on a state visit. The dinner at the White House was last night; today I have free. Tomorrow I speak before your Congress, and then the next day it is back home."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, your, uh, your, uh, Sir." 'Your royalty' didn't sound correct, and Jimmy's mind was otherwise blank, as it distressingly was, all too often. "Oh. My name's James. James Palmer. I'm usually called Jimmy."
"Jimmy, then, if I may. You are a fan of human gore, as I am?" He indicated the book on medieval surgery attempts that Jimmy had just put down.
"Well, uh, I wouldn't call it that. I'm in medical school, and I work as an assistant to a medical examiner."
"But that's splendid! Were I not destined to be king of Rhumbhertia, I would have been delighted to go into that line of work! It has always been my chief interest." His green-hazel eyes gleamed with a hefty dose of mania.
"There's nothing like cheering yourself up on a bluesy day with a slice, dice, and chop!" Jimmy said, enthusiastically, and then lowered his voice as he got curious looks from other bookstore customers.
"I can well imagine, my good man! Come! Do say you'll have lunch with me so that we can talk more about your fascinating career!"
"Well, um…sure!" It wasn't every day that Jimmy was invited to lunch by royalty…royalty that bore such a resemblance to him, in fact.
"I know a great restaurant…" Jimmy began.
"No need, my friend! We will dine at my hotel! The meals are exceptional!"
Everything seemed to be full of superlatives to Prince Jhon, Jimmy noticed. The prince's silent bodyguard, Bluto, was a living superlative: close to seven feet tall and weighing who-knew-how-much. He could probably stop a cannon ball with his stomach.
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After a short trip in the prince's limousine, they arrived at one of the finest hotels in Washington. The prince had an enormous suite that shone with wealth. "I do so hate being called attention to in the dining room," Jhon said with faint apology. "We shall order room service. Gaze upon the room service menu, dear Jimmy. See what you might like."
Jimmy read, and then gulped. "Everything sounds fabulous…but…there are no prices!"
Jhon laughed. "But money does not matter, my friend! And it should not concern you. I invited you to lunch. It is, as you say, 'on me.'"
"Well, if you insist…" He saw something that sounded French and beefy, like one of the recipes from his mother's Julia Child cookbook. "This looks good…"
"A splendid choice! Splendid! I had it last night. I know the perfect wine to accompany it."
"Oh, maybe I shouldn't have wine. I have to work this afternoon."
"How delightful," the prince said, his eyes gleaming again. "I shouldn't worry about that, my good man. You shall have all the time in the world today…"
Jimmy was afraid his powerful imagination was blowing up a storm. It almost looked like Bluto and a couple other bodyguards were closing in on him…
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"Hello, my friends! An absolutely glorious day, is it not?"
The guards on duty at the NCIS front entrance grinned. You always expected the unexpected with Jimmy Palmer.
"Uh, aren't you forgetting something, Mr. Palmer?" asked one, kindly.
"And what would that be, my friend?" Jimmy stopped just short of attempting to go through the security scanner.
"Your ID card, sir." The guard made a swiping motion with his hand.
Jimmy thought for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, of course! How silly of me!" He pulled the card from his wallet and then swiped it through the machine with a flourish.
"Thank you, sir. You have a nice day, sir."
"And the same to you, sir! The same to you!"
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"Ah, there you are, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, looking up as Jimmy came in. "Barely on time."
"I apologize, Doctor, er…Doctor. I shall endeavor to make up for it in working extra hard. Now…who can we cut open today?"
Ducky stepped back and eyed him. The trouble was, there was no 'normal' gage when it came to Jimmy. "As you know, we have the two petty officers who were brought in yesterday. I suppose you could—"
"Outstanding! I'll get right on it, Doctor!...Um, where are they again?"
"Drawers 85 and 87. Are you feeling quite all right, Mr. Palmer?"
"Never better!" Jimmy trotted over to one of the designated drawers and opened it, choosing then to carry rather than wheel the cadaver over to a table. "Let me see…what shall we use today?" While Ducky stared, open-mouthed, Jimmy, looking delighted, ran a hand across a tray of implements lovingly. "How about this one and this one and this one…?"
So saying, Jimmy got to work, and soon bones and bits of tissue were flying. Organs sailed through the air, landing on the scales with satisfying plops. Here and there body parts went, Jimmy chuckling all the while.
"Doctor Mallard, the SECNAV here would like to see—" Vance halted in mid-stride in Autopsy's doorway, as did Gibbs and the unsuspecting SECNAV. Gibbs held back the visiting film crew, who were along for the SECNAV's photo op.
"Maybe we should come back another time," said Gibbs, even as Ducky found his voice. "Mr. Palmer!"
"Hmmm? Oh, I'm almost done here, Doctor. Then I can start on the next one. This is fun!"
"Stop filming!" Vance snapped at the film crew. "This is not what you think it is, and is not at all relevant to what we do here in Autopsy." He turned back. "Doctor Mallard, I will see you in my office in one hour."
Ducky nodded and sighed. This was uncharacteristic, even for Jimmy!
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It's true; that's not like our Jimmy at all. The reason for that, as you've probably guessed by now, is that our Jimmy was being impersonated by Prince Jhon, while the real Jimmy was unconscious and bound hand and foot in the Prince's lavish hotel suite.
When our Jimmy came around, he had the feeling he was being watched. With a groan (to acknowledge that his aching head was still attached to the rest of him), Jimmy looked around and found green-hazel eyes not too far away, looking back at him quizzically.
"Oh, not; not again!" Jimmy cried, remembering the scene in the bookstore. "Your…highness," (he thought that might be the right term) they caught you, too? Whoever they are?"
"I am at a disadvantage, sir," said the man who could have been Jimmy's double. "Have we met?"
"Well—yes! In the bookstore! And we just had lunch…and…wait a minute! If you're not Prince Jhon, then who are you?"
"But I am Jhon, sir. Jhon, one day to be Jhon XVII of Rhumbhertia. I fear you have run into my not-too-stable and ambitious brother, Prince Jhoe. We are twins, but I, as the elder, will inherit the throne. We also have wildly differing political views, and I am afraid he might do mischief if he were allowed to run free here."
Jimmy grimaced. "And he seemed so friendly!"
"A charming rascal he is. I wonder if we are related, sir? The resemblance is uncanny."
"Maybe. I don't know," Jimmy said in misery at having been duped. "Oh, my name's Jimmy, by the way. Jimmy Palmer."
"Jhimmy?"
"No, Jimmy."
"Jhimmy."
"Ah…close enough." Even with his hands tied, Jimmy was able to stretch enough to feel his pocket. "Oh, dang! Prince Jhoe stole my wallet! He'll have my work ID and will be able to get in where I work and pass himself off as me!"
Prince Jhon chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about that, my dear Jhimmy. Jhoe is singled-minded; the only interest he has in is—and this is amusing—dead bodies."
"But that's what I work with! I'm an assistant to a medical examiner!"
Jhon's chuckling stopped. "Ah. That could be a problem…"