Title: What's still unwritten (you can erase)

Character(s): Jimmy, Ducky

Genre(s): Gen

Challenge: Write a story based around this line (which must appear in your story somewhere), By the time the lie had spread so far and wide that everyone believed it to be the truth, it was too late. Word count may not exceed 2000.

Officer Morgan looked at the young man who was sitting on the edge of the curb. He felt sorry for the kid, who reminded him of his own son.

"I...I killed him," said the young man, bloodstained hands held out in front of him.

"Okay kid," said Morgan. "You're not under arrest, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't think *very* carefully about what, if anything you want to say to me." It wasn't strictly by the book, Morgan knew that. But he also knew that the dead guy was a junkie with a rep for violent thefts to feed his habit. And the kid in front of him looked like he was going to throw up at the sight of the blood that covered his hands and was splattered over his shirt front. If the kid *had* killed the guy, he'd probably done the world a favor, thought Morgan as he pointedly took out his notebook and pen to take the statement.

Trouble was, even if the dead guy had it coming, and had probably started the fight in the first place, he was still dead and technically the victim in all of this, which meant that the kid was in for a world of trouble, no matter which way this went down.

Over twenty years on the force and Morgan had seen plenty of lives ruined because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and did or rather said they'd done the wrong thing.

"Let's take it from the top, nice and simple," he said gently. "What's your name?"

"Palmer," said the kid, pushing his glasses back up his nose, not noticing or not caring that he'd left a smear of blood on the lens. "Jimmy Palmer."

Morgan slowly pulled the story out of Palmer. As he'd suspected it was a case of the kid being in the wrong place at the wrong time and being targeted by the wrong guy with a knife in his hand.

"He…he came at me with the knife," said Palmer, hesitantly. "And then I…the next thing I remember he was on the ground and there was blood everywhere...and I tried, I really tried to stop him bleeding, but there was so much blood and he just, he just died, and I...I kil..."

"That's enough for now," said Morgan, quickly. "You'll need to speak to the Detective in charge, then come down to the station and make a formal statement." He closed his notebook and lowered his voice, "Look kid. I wouldn't beat myself up over this. As long as that guys prints are on the knife it'll be self defense. Those that live by the sword die by it, or the knife in this case. You just keep your story straight and simple and it'll be all right."

"But I...but it wasn't..." The kid went even paler.

"Trust me kid, the less you say the better." Morgan patted him gently on the shoulder. "Now, the CSI's are going to take your shirt to process, and Detective Arnold will want a word with you. Sit tight and we'll get this all sorted out."

Jimmy wanted to speak up, but it was too late. Morgan and his notebook were gone, and the lie he'd told was gone with it.

"It wasn't really a lie," Jimmy told himself later that night. "It was an…an omission…" But in his heart, he knew that his failure to tell the whole truth was just as dishonest as an actual lie. He had meant to be honest with Detective Arnold, to tell him the full story. But the Detective had recognized him from a previous case that he'd worked with NCIS, and Jimmy just couldn't get the words out. After hearing the same story that Jimmy had told Officer Morgan, he had told Jimmy to get a good night's rest and to come down to the station the next day to make a formal statement. "And give my regards to Ducky," he'd called as Jimmy had been escorted away from the scene.

"Tomorrow," thought Jimmy, as he tried to get to sleep. "Tomorrow I'll tell the truth before it's too late."

But tomorrow was a long time coming. By the time the lie had spread so far and wide that everyone believed it to be the truth, it was too late.

Jimmy went into work the next morning with the intention of asking Doctor Mallard for some personal time that afternoon. He hadn't intended to specify *why* he needed the time, but as it turned out, he already knew.

"My dear boy," said Ducky when Jimmy walked through the door to Autopsy. "You should have taken today off after what happened to you last night."

Jimmy's surprise must have shown on his face because Ducky continued speaking, "Detective Arnold phoned me this morning. He told me that you'd been involved in a rather unfortunate altercation."

For the second time in twenty four hours, Jimmy felt the blood draining from his face. "You...you know?"

"I do," said Ducky, as he guided Jimmy to a seat beside the counter. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with something so unpleasant. But not to worry. I had Tony speak to one of his contacts in the precinct to see how the investigation was progressing, and they were able to confirm that it should be declared self defense. Off the record of course at this point, they'll still have to follow through all the evidence."

"Evidence?"

"The knife that was the cause of death, your shirt of course," said Ducky, "And I believe that Abby has taken it upon herself to assist the police by hunting down and enhancing any security camera footage in the vicinity. We of course know that you've told the police everything, but they do not have the benefit of our knowledge of your character."

"Abby knows too?" said Jimmy, dully. He buried his head in his hands. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him look up.

"I know this has been a traumatic experience for you, Jimmy," said Ducky. "But I also know you, and I know that whatever you had to do last night, you did it for your own safety. Nobody here is going to judge you for standing up for yourself."

"But…but I didn't," said Jimmy, his voice shaking. "That…that's not how it happened…"

=0=0=0=0=0=0=

All Jimmy could see was the knife that was pointing straight at him. He could see the size and thickness of the blade. He could see how sharp it was as it shone under the street lights. And in his mind's eye he could see exactly how much damage it would do once it penetrated his body. "No, please…" was all he could say as the knife moved closer. His feet reacted faster than his mouth as he stumbled backwards, slipping on a patch of wet pavement and ending up sprawled on the ground.

And still the man with the knife kept coming. Jimmy kicked out instinctively, making contact more by luck than design, and watched as the man lost his balance and fell forward onto the ground beside him.

Jimmy froze as he saw blood start to seep out from under the man. It felt like hours passed before he managed to force himself to move, to try and do what he could to help him.

=0=0=0=0=0

"I couldn't help him," said Jimmy. "He was bleeding to death in front of me and I was too scared to move…and…and when I did, it was too little, too late." He looked up at Ducky for the first time since he'd started his tale, "I killed him. It's my fault he's dead."

"Oh Jimmy!" Ducky sat down beside Jimmy. "You don't know how relieved I am to hear that."

"That I killed a man?"

"That you *didn't* kill him. You see when Detective Arnold told me what had happened; I believed that you had acted in self defense. And I grieved for your loss of innocence. Because to take another person's life, even when there is no other choice, it is a heavy burden to have to live with. But this was an accident, pure and simple and in no way can you be held responsible for the outcome."

"But I should have helped him," said Jimmy, "I saw the blood and I just froze. What sort of doctor will I make if I can't even treat my patients when they're bleeding?"

"For starters, I sincerely hope that you will not be dealing with patients who have just tried to kill you," said Ducky. He squeezed the younger man's hand. "Jimmy, you were in shock. You probably still are. The fact that you even *tried* to help that man shows the strength of your character under adverse circumstances. You are a good person, and I have every confidence that you will make a fine doctor some day."

"Is that your 'gut' telling you that?" asked Jimmy.

"No, it's my years of experience in both medicine and human nature," said Ducky. "Now, if you put the kettle on to boil, I'll make us a both a pot of tea, and then we'll go down to the police station and let them know that your memory has cleared since last night."

"Will I get in trouble for not telling them the full story?" asked Jimmy. "I mean, I know I should have spoken up last night but I was just…I didn't want anybody to know how scared I was." He hung his head in shame.

"The police will be well aware that a statement taken from a witness still in shock is bound to be less 'complete' than one made in the cold light of day. That's why they do follow up interviews. As for being scared, there is absolutely *no* shame in being afraid when faced with a life threatening situation," said Ducky, firmly. "What matters is how you deal with it. And anybody who tries to tell you otherwise will have me to deal with"

The knowledge that Doctor Mallard had such faith in him gave Jimmy the confidence he needed. He made his official statement to the police, and gave them the full details of what had happened the previous night. Much to his relief, the subsequent investigation ruled the incident to be an unfortunate accident, with no blame to be attached to him.

"But I still feel responsible for not doing more," Jimmy told Doctor Mallard a few weeks later. "I mean, I know that even the best doctors can't save everybody, but I should have tried harder."

"With that sort of attitude, I have no doubt that you will one day be counted among their number," said Ducky, "And I for one shall be very proud to call you *Doctor* as opposed to 'Mister' Palmer."

The End