"Whatcha got there?"

Jimmy jumped at the sound of Tony's voice. He'd thought no one was there. "Uh, nothing, Tony."

"Is that why you're clutching that shoe box for dear life?"

Instinctively, the young med student clutched the box even closer against his chest. "No…I mean yes…I mean…"

Tony smirked, obviously enjoying the stammering state Jimmy was in. "What's in the box, Palmer?"

"Nothing."

Ribbit!

"…Did that shoe box with nothing in it just ribbit?"

"…No…"

Ribbit!

Jimmy winced. Marty, his pet frog, was usually so quiet. Why did he have to pick now to be so vocal? "Tony, I have to go."

The agent blocked Jimmy's way, leveling him with a look. "Why are you carrying a frog around in a shoe box?"

The poor guy sighed resignedly, seeing he was trapped. "He's been sick lately."

"Frogs get sick?"

"Yes, they get sick! He isn't eating and he doesn't jump around so much! I was worried, so I thought maybe I should keep an eye on him for the time being."

"So you brought him here?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I didn't think it would be a big problem."

Tony almost laughed. A pet frog! How Palmer-ish of him. "Don't worry, I won't squeal on you," he promised.

"Thank you! I just…he's like a friend, you know?"

"I always wanted a pet frog," Tony confided, surprising them both. Their conversations usually consisted of mocking on Tony's part and silence on Jimmy's part. "Yeah…I was going to name him Warts."

"What happened?"

"My mother hated reptiles and my father didn't trust me with a living creature. I remember when I was seven I caught one down at a nearby pond. I thought I'd be able to sneak it in and keep it hidden."

"I'm guessing you didn't."

Tony shrugged. "I got it in all right, but he slipped from my hands and hopped out of sight. Three hours later, my mother found him in one of her new Prada shoes." He rubbed his rear end, wincing as he recalled the event. "My ass was red that night."

"My mom never let me have a frog either," Jimmy said. "It wasn't until I moved out that I finally got one."

"You know what we should do?" Tony asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "We should put it in McGee's desk!"

Jimmy pulled the shoe box out of Tony's reach, his grip tightening on it. "He's not an it! His name is Marty! And we are not putting him in anyone's desk!"

"Sorry!" Tony exclaimed, holding his hands up in defense.

"No one can know he's here. They'll throw him out!"

"There are just no rights for frogs these days, huh?"

"Tony…"

"Okay, okay! We won't put him in someone's desk!"

"Good. Now I have to get go – Ack!" Jimmy's thought was cut off as he tripped on an untied shoe lace and fell to the floor. The box soared from his grip and the top flew off as it hit the ground. A green frog hopped out, and in a matter of seconds, the amphibian was gone.

"Marty!" Jimmy hollered. "Marty!"

"Look on the bright side, Palmer," Tony said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "He seems to be healthier than he was."

Ribbit!

Tim looked up, frowning. He was sure he'd heard a frog's ribbit…but that was ridiculous. What would a frog be doing at NCIS?

Ribbit!

He jumped up, looking around his desk. There was nothing on the floor and nothing on his seat. Was it all in his head?

Ribbit!

No, that was most certainly not in his head. The sound was coming from one of the desk drawers. He pulled it open and flew back against his chair as a frog hopped out and landed in his lap. He scowled. This entire thing had the mark of one person.

"TONY!"

The End!