Examination Day
Jimmy strode into his bedroom and tossed his examination notes high into the air. As he had done many times before, he watched as they fluttered gently to the floor to join their fallen comrades, similarly released over the past few weeks. His entire room looked like the aftermath of a massive, coarse-grained ticker tape parade. Nothing could describe the sense of relief washing over him. After uncountably many years of balancing study and an almost full time job, it was finally over. His last exam had concluded and, barring calamity, he had just passed and become a medical examiner.
'Over, over, over, over, over': it played round and round in his head. No more struggling to read spider-scrawled shorthand at 2 am in a desperate attempt to answer a diabolical imminent assignment question. No more racing from crime scenes to college then trying to concentrate on some esoteric theoretical lecture while scenes of carnage danced in his head. No more urgent phone calls on his precious days off commanding him to abandon his animated friends for a bunch of not-quite-so animated strangers. No more… no more anything.
He sat heavily on the bed as it finally hit him: it really was over. More importantly, it was a beginning. The beginning of what was a moot point but there was a clean slate before him. His position as NCIS assistant medical examiner was strictly a student posting and, although Ducky had mentioned they might be able to offer him a job, he knew economic times were tough and there were no guarantees. Of course Ducky was getting on in years so it wouldn't be long before he di…Jimmy stopped himself: that was just downright mean. He didn't exactly expect Ducky to die, he could just move on to a better place….
Oh who was he kidding? He worked in an occupation reliant on a steady stream of timely corpses; it was only natural that his first thoughts of promotion involved Ducky's untimely demise. Ducky was lucky that Jimmy was only entertaining thoughts of him dying through natural causes and not murdered in some bizarre way by a crazed medical examiner serial killer. Oh wait - a serial killer who murdered medical examiners: that might not be too good for his own career.
Fortunately for all concerned, Jimmy's cell phone went off.
"Hello?"
"Ah yes, Mr Palmer," Ducky began. "I'm sorry to disturb you so soon after your final exam. I hope you weren't out celebrating."
"No, no, not yet. We're …"
"Oh good," Ducky cut in. "I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a bind and I need to impose on you for a favor."
"Anything, Dr Mallard."
"We've had a rather…enthusiastic killer and the body count is a little higher than I can manage on my own. I was wondering if you could spare just an hour or two, just to help me get over the bulk of it."
A smile played over Jimmy's lips: once more for old time's sake. "Sure, I'll be right there."
The evening autopsy corridor looked eerily familiar in a visiting-his-childhood-school kind of way. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago he was walking around here as though he belonged. There was no way of knowing when he would next see this place; he might as well appreciate his last moments.
Jimmy stood outside the autopsy doors: the final barrier. Inside, Ducky must be knee deep in bodies and frantically awaiting his arrival. It was time to burst in like a superhero and save the day – well except that almost everyone was already dead. He took a deep breath, fixed a professional expression on his face and readied himself for business.
But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited inside those doors.