Warning - Slight spoilers for the season 6 episode Broken Bird and beyond.

Chapter 4

"I need to do the autopsy," Jimmy fretted to no one in particular.

"Don't touch the body, Palmer," Tony warned, not looking up from his desk. "You officially don't work here anymore."

Jimmy sighed dejectedly and threw himself back in his chair: actually Gibbs' chair. He was sitting at Gibbs' desk placating his growing frustration by fiddling with pens, papers, erasers and anything else he could get his hands on. It was well past 10 pm and the main lights had long turned off casting a gloomy ambience over the room. Tony and Ziva were at their desks, illuminated only by the cone-shaped lights thrown from their desk lamps, doing whatever it is special agents do when one of their own is injured. The light cones looked like something out of a science fiction and Jimmy kept expecting them to teleport away somewhere. It would fit with the reality of the rest of the night.

McGee, on the other hand was standing perfectly still in front of the plasma screen watching the autopsy video of the night's events on an endless loop. Jimmy had seen it only once and that was one time too many. For a start it was strange to see yourself doing something you have no memory of, and secondly it was just horrifying to see Ducky so full of life one moment and so lifeless the next. It made him want to shout, 'look out'. It wasn't just a gentle drop to the floor, either: Ducky was literally blown his feet, thrusting both him and Jimmy against the autopsy drawers. No wonder he still had a headache.

There was nothing on the video to indicate why someone would waltz into autopsy and shoot Ducky. Then again there had been no discernable reason why someone would stab Ducky in the middle of the street or slice his friends into small pieces, place them in barrels and leave them around for him to find. If there was one thing Jimmy had learned from this job it was that motives were rarely immediately obvious. Of course it never helped that Ducky had such a checkered past that he was obsessively secretive about – something shared by almost everyone in the top levels of NCIS. Heck, it was practically a pre-requisite for promotion.

Abby was off somewhere running facial recognition software on the surveillance video and eating her way through the remainder of the buffet. Jimmy had forced most of the guests to take a plate home with them just to clear off the room but Abby had gone around garnering supplies from everyone to see her through the night.

"What about calling in Jordon to do the autopsy?" Jimmy suggested futilely.

"For a start," said McGee distractedly, "it's after 10 pm."

"..and secondly," said Gibbs appearing from nowhere. "She's with Ducky."

Jimmy shot up from the chair. "How is Dr Mallard?"

"Just dandy, Palmer," said Gibbs sarcastically, "except for the bullet wound." Gibbs came to a sudden halt in front of his own desk and for a moment Jimmy saw something resembling regret on Gibbs' face. Gibbs' expression softened. "It's too early to tell. We have a 24 hour protection guard on him in, just in case."

Jimmy saw Gibbs' eyes scan the top of the desk and looked down noticing, for the first time, the mess he had created. "Oh, I'm sorry sir I'll clean it up…"

"Go home, Jimmy," said Gibbs simply, ignoring the wreckage.

"I can't."

"There is nothing you can do now." Gibbs turned to the others. "All of you – go home. Tell Abby, go home and get some sleep. We'll need all the energy we can get when the evidence starts rolling in."

The three junior agents began packing up for the night. Jimmy noticed that Gibbs did not emulate them. Instead he hustled Jimmy out of his personal space and sat down at the desk.

"You're not going, Boss?" Tony questioned.

"I have a call to make," said Gibbs, by way of response.

Something inside Jimmy snapped. If there was one thing he was sick of it was old the NCIS guard keeping everyone else out of the loop. Gibbs clearly knew something about the case he was not telling them and was now sending them all home while he conducted his own investigation. As he fumed, Gibbs appeared to shrink before his eyes until he was nothing more than a sneaky little old man trying to keep the glory, or the pain, away from his loyal group.

"No!" said Jimmy suddenly.

Four pairs of eyes fixed themselves on him.

"No," he repeated. "I'm sick of you old guys keeping things from the rest of us. Are we a team or not? If you need to make a call about Ducky and the case then you should tell us all, not just slink away and put yourself in danger and then we all have to get together and work out what's going on and come and save your sorry butt. I'm sick of it. You do it, Dr Mallard does it, Director Shepard and Director Vance did it. For once in your life just trust your own team."

The silence hung heavy in the room.

Now, as Jimmy stood panting with the blood pulsing in his ears, Gibbs began to grow before his eyes. He grew way beyond his original size until he looked like a giant angry grizzly bear looming over him: a grizzly that Jimmy had just been poking with a very large stick.

Gibbs opened his mouth and Jimmy steeled himself for the dressing down of his life. When he spoke, however, Gibbs' voice was quiet, restrained and slightly bemused. "I'm ringing my father for his birthday," he said. "Is that OK with you and the rest of the team?"

Jimmy felt his ears burn with embarrassment. "Ah sure…ah sorry sir. Wish him happy birthday from me."

"Get some sleep, Palmer," said Gibbs again. "All of you. There will be lots to do in the morning."

Jimmy turned to go.

"And Palmer…"

Jimmy cringed in anticipation and turned to face Gibbs.

"Old man?" he said, wryly.

Palmer felt Tony's arm across his shoulders. "Come on Palmer, that head bump is going to get you killed. I'll take you home."