I.
Abby wakes up from where she's slumped over her keyboard as he stands behind her. She senses his presence like he knew she would and turns around, smile on her face. She thinks its Gibbs or McGee. Maybe even Tony or David. Hell, even Doctor Mallard. But not Jimmy. As predicted, her face falls minutely.
"Got some samples for me, Palmer? I didn't know we even had a body!"
He feels a smile curving at his lips.
"We don't right now. Give me just a moment and I'll fix that."
She looks confused. Jimmy picks up the scalpel from her desk and gives her a long look, "Please try to refrain from screaming. I have a headache."
He slits her throat so quickly she can't react. Doesn't react. Her knees buckle as she tries to keep the precious red fluid inside her body, pressing both hands against her neck, gasping and writhing.
Her pupils contract as he squats next to her and cocks his head to one side, watching as she gurgles for air that will never enter her lungs again. Glancing down he hummed to himself.
"Y'know I feel kind of bad about this. You had such good tastes in shoes. I might raid your collection later."
Seconds after the light disappears from her eyes, the terror forever preserved, he hears the elevator ding. Giggling, Jimmy let out a fake shout and heard running footsteps.
He couldn't wait to attend the funeral.
II.
Ziva is disappointingly easy. He goes to the coffee shop she frequents and goes in through the Employee Entrance, after disposing of the owner (who was outside smoking) with a wrench. The shop has yet to open so he waited patiently in the backroom for a staff member to arrive after dumping the owner's body in her shop's dumpster, as maggot food. She does eventually, surprisingly pretty, even for her obvious middle age. There's no wedding ring, which is also surprising.
She screams, of course, but he covers her mouth and presses the bloody wrench against her cheek, hard enough that it would bruise by the next morning, if she were to be alive. Jimmy releases her and smiles, "Hi! I'm Jimmy. What's your name?"
When she starts crying he backhands her across the face and then strokes the bloody smear the wrench left, "No matter," He hears the bell above the door out in the shop ring and smiles. Ziva is always the first customer. The girl darts through the beaded doorway curtain and he rolls his eyes. He's bored already.
Ziva asks the girl something and he presses himself against the wall next to the door. He sees her face peer through the beads, gun up and eyes wary. Jimmy hits her once one on the Parietal Bone and she drops to the ground with a thud. It's obvious she's just unconscious; he didn't hit her hard enough to kill her. But, first, the nameless woman with the dirty tasteless red pumps. He slips through the still swaying curtain and sees her cowering underneath the counter. Jimmy tuts.
"You should've run."
He drags her out by her long brown hair and straddles her hips. He's not aroused. Just…captivated. Wrapping his hands around her throat her squeezes. She claws at his face, leaving bloody gouges in their wake. When she dies he smiles and stands, making his way over to Ziva. She's moaning now, nearly conscious.
"We can't have that, now can we?" Jimmy asks and when she doesn't reply he frowns and brings his foot up and stomps on her pretty face, "You made me ruin my shoes. They were designer too." He brings his sole down until her head is a gory mess of skull fragments and brain matter.
He cleans his hands in the sink and washes his wrench thoroughly, making himself a coffee for his thermos and leaving out the front door, flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED as he passes.
III.
When he kills McGee he finds it exceptionally dull. He breaks into his house easily and Jethro doesn't even look up from his bed, after all, Jimmy wasn't a stranger. He has a soft spot for animals, so he leaves the German Shepard be and enters the bedroom silently.
McGee is sleeping peacefully, sprawled on his back, arms and legs akimbo. Grabbing a discarded pillow from the floor he unceremoniously presses it on the other man's face. The older man wakes up instantly and swings wildly in an attempt to dislodge his soon to be murderer. Eventually he tires and Jimmy sighs when he sees the clock on the nightstand flash '6:03'.
In the kitchen he grabs the leash and whistles, "Jethro! It's time for your walk!"
IV.
Director Vance is merely a necessity. Jimmy had been disposing of Ziva's body at the side of a road when he'd heard a startled gasp behind him. He hadn't wanted to kill then man nearly as much as what was left of Gibbs' team, but he'd still been angry. The man had thought him annoying and incompetent after all.
So, he draws back and punches him in the face and before Vance can recover Jimmy had raised Ziva's gun and shot him in the forehead. He pockets the weapon and leaves for work, whistling to himself.
He wonders how long it will take for anyone to find their bodies of if they'll decompose first.
V.
He decides to be nice and let Gibbs, Tony and Doctor Mallard all go out together. They're down in Autopsy talking about evidence on Petty Officer Gradin's corpse that shows he may be responsible for Abby and McGee's deaths. It has been nearly six months since then, and although he had only disposed of Ziva's body that morning (and Director Vance) he knew it would be a matter of hours before someone realised they hadn't called or been seen since they went home the day before.
The elevator dings as the doors slide open, and Jimmy steps out, still in his civilian clothes, that unfortunately still have blood on them. He walks the short distance to Autopsy and sees Doctor Mallard bent over Gradin's body, back to the door, Gibbs next to him and Tony on the other side the empty metal table closest to Jimmy holds both Agents' coats and their guns are carelessly placed on top.
Tony glances up and then straightens, "Palmer?" This then causes the two other men to turn around, Gibbs' eyes narrowing in on his clothes.
"Mister Palmer! Are you alright?" The elderly ME asks, making as if to go forward, but Gibbs catches his arm, "Jethro?"
"What's wrong, Agent Gibbs?" Jimmy frowns, glancing around with his eyes wide, "Was I not meant to come down here or something?"
"Cut the act," Gibbs barks.
He tilts his head, "Act? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Palmer-"
Jimmy slams his hands on the table with a bang, "MY NAME IS JIMMY!" Tony's hand twitches towards his belt where his knife is probably kept, "I'm sorry. That was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do."
"OK, Jimmy. If that's what you want me to call you," Tony says soothingly, "We can sort this out, get you some professional help."
"Help?" He hisses, "Help!? The only thing I'm getting is a death sentence. Fifteen counts of First Degree Murder is not going in my favour. Don't look so fucking surprised. Do you think I'd stop? After killing poor little Abby I went onto McGee, and then my annoying neighbours who decided that kidnapping and raping a woman would go unnoticed. Afterwards was Ziva, pretty little thing. I stomped on her face until she bled out! Took two coffee shop workers to get to her and then guess what!?"
Gibbs looks like he'd much rather shoot Jimmy then listen to his story, but he's obviously trying to be distracting and so he shakes his head, "What happened?"
"The Director just pulled up next to me!?" He laughs, shaking his head in amusement, "What is it again? Oh, yeah! Rule Thirty-Nine. There's no such thing as a coincidence! So I had to get rid of him. And then I decided I better finish the job now because come tomorrow I'm not going to be able too."
"The job?" That's Tony again.
Jimmy picks up Gibbs' gun and clicks off the safety, stroking the barrel, "It's going to be very poetic, Agent Gibbs. Killed with your own gun. People will talk about this for years, I suppose. How the big bad NCIS team never suspected naïve little Jimmy Palmer. But, you can't be that good, can you? I'm surprised no one noticed before. After all, my Father's disappearance was quite famous where I lived. Cold case still."
"You killed your Father?"
Jimmy snorts, "Of course I did. I would say it was self-defence but I doubt it will matter with what else I've got on my rap sheet now. So, yes I did. I was…seven? Maybe eight. Anyway. We were on our monthly fishing trip in this small log cabin. The lake was massive so we didn't have any neighbours close enough to hear me screaming. I was tied to the bed you see, and he was having jolly good fun and all that, but then after a while he got tired and untied me whilst I got 'back in the mood'. I went out to the porch and picked up the axe he made me chop wood with, then I hacked him up into little pieces, and dumped them in the lake. I stayed in the cabin and had a lot of fun just eating all the food he'd brought and watching television. When the police finally turned up after my Mother rang them saying we hadn't returned home, they found me sleeping on the sofa in my pyjamas and my Father nowhere to be found…Did you like my story? Do you know what the moral was?"
"Jimmy, my boy…"
"Tell us," Gibbs snaps.
"Never. Trust. Anyone." Jimmy brings up the gun and gets Gibbs in the skull, Doctor Mallard in the chest and Tony in between his pretty green eyes.
VI.
When Jimmy jolts awake it's to tears running down his cheeks and the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe. Something grabs his wrists and pins them to the bed, whilst the crushing weight on his chest increases. Then it's gone and his glasses are shoved on his face.
"-mmy? Say something!"
"Tony?" He asks, squinting, "S'at you?"
"Thank God!" Tony hugs him and Jimmy feels the older man breath in the smell of his hair, "What the hell was that, Jimmy?" He draws back, "I woke up to find you fucking screaming and thrashing like you were being tortured!"
He blinks, "Tony…I have to tell you something…"