Epilog
"And you can see here where the person who made this initialed it," Jimmy explained to the three agents in the bullpen.
DiNozzo, McGee and Bishop gathered behind Palmer studying the picture of an arrowhead which had had been used to kill a navy officer found in a nearby park. At the bottom of the arrowhead they could see tiny initials: RS.
"So it's not an authentic arrowhead?" McGee asked.
"Well, depends on your definition of authentic," Palmer replied. "It's handmade, just as the Native Americans did it a century ago. But it's recently made. Fascinating, really. I took an anthropology class a few years ago and the professor continually pounded into us the fact that 'primative does not mean stupid.' That in some cases the primitive way was actually better," the young man expounded.
"So, what, we have a modern day caveman running around killing navy officers?" Tony demanded.
"I can't say that, exactly. But an arrow with the traditional hand chipped arrowhead IS and effective and very painful way to kill. If that's what your perpetrator is looking for."
"Great. Looking for an adult who is playing his own version of Cowboys and Indians," DiNozzo complained.
"Could be a Native American, or someone who has studied the culture. It's a place to start anyway. Maybe look for classes in arrowhead chipping that have been offered?" Bishop contributed.
"Sounds like a plan, I'll start with the east coast and move west as needed," Tim decided, with a nod of appreciation to Jimmy.
"You know, I wish I'd had a chance to take more Anthropology classes, it's a fascinating field," Palmer started, pausing at the sound of the elevator arriving. It opened to reveal Ducky, still wearing his white uniform.
"Oh, Dr. Mallard, I'm sorry, I'm taking too long, aren't I?" he stammered.
"At ease, Mr. Palmer, I'm not here to retrieve you. I had a call that I have a visitor, and I prefer not to meet them in Autopsy unless I know for certain that won't bother them. You explained about our findings?"
"Yes, sir. And the agents have already come up with some avenues of research," he reported.
"Then why am I not seeing them on their computers?" Gibbs demanded from behind the group, sending the three agents scrambling for their workstations.
"Anything further to report, Duck?" he asked his old friend.
"Not at the moment, we are waiting for the toxicology reports from Abigail."
"Uh, oh" Jimmy muttered as the elevator arrived and Ducky's visitor stepped out.
"Gail!" Ducky said happily, going to greet the woman who looked about curiously. "It's good to see you, my dear. How is your shoulder?" he asked solicitously.
"In the words of the doctor who examined me: 'no permanent damage', for which I can thank you and this young man," she replied, indicating Jimmy with a wave of her hand.
"I'm so glad," Ducky replied.
"Um…how did the other passengers fare? The ones who were badly hurt? The hospital basically treated and released most of us, and I think a couple of the badly injured ones were airlifted out. I never heard what happened to them."
"Mr. Bridger didn't make it," the Medical Examiner reported with a downcast look. "He had a skull fracture, intracranial bleeding. The doctor who treated him said he was terminal from the start. However, Damien had surgery and the doctors predict there will be no paralysis. Hailey also had surgery and is expected to fully recover. Everyone else is fine. Amazing, really, when you consider how violent the accident must have been. I suppose two fatalities is not a bad score given the circumstances."
"Speaking as someone who was in the bus when it was hit, I have to agree. I thought for sure we were all going to die."
"What brings you to DC my dear?" he asked after a short pause.
"I told you I might have to stalk you," she grinned.
Jimmy leaned toward her confidentially. "You might not want to say that with a room full of federal agents," he advised.
"Good point," she replied, earning a grin from Jimmy before he wandered over to Tony's desk.
"What I was hoping was that I could convince you to have dinner with me this evening, my treat," she offered with a hopeful look.
Ducky smiled at the offer, but she could see a hint of hesitation in his manner, so she spoke up before he could answer.
"I perhaps should point out something. We didn't speak of our lives, really, and I didn't tell you why I was on a tour bus. I was visiting a couple of friends who had moved back east years ago. Kind of a once in a lifetime trip. I live and work in Carson City, Nevada. That's where my friends, family and life are. I'm not looking for anything but the chance to be able to go home to my friends and brag how I had an elegant dinner in DC with a handsome, refined doctor," she explained with a smile.
Ducky chuckled gently.
"How can I refuse and offer like that?"
"Great. I'll leave the choice of restaurants in your capable hands. I'm staying at this motel," she said, holding out a business card. "At what time shall I expect you?"
"Let's say seven, my dear."
"I shall see you then."
NCISNCISNCIS
The restaurant they went to was small and exclusive, with an intimate piano bar and seating that allowed for privacy. Their meal had been exceptional, and Gail sat back as the plates were cleared with a satisfied smile. They'd spent the evening exchanging stories of their lives, Gail amusing Ducky with a recounting of her nine month stint as a long-haul truck driver in the 90's and Ducky making her giggle over his misadventures in medical school.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to step over to the bar for a moment. I'll be right back," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Should I be worried?" Dr. Mallard asked with a smile.
"Usually."
He chuckled as she set down her napkin and went to confer with the bartender. He saw the man nod, then Gail made her way back.
"I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering us dessert," she said. "Something special."
"Intriguing. You know, I find myself suddenly regretting all the miles between DC and Nevada," he said taking her hand and kissing it.
"Well, there's always email and video chat, or so say all the young folks. We can keep in touch. But let's face it, you are a sophisticated, debonair man of the city, where I'm a total country girl, a desert rat of the first order," she replied with a touch of sorrow.
"Perhaps. But I would still like to keep in touch," he agreed, smiling when she withdrew a small notepad and paper. She jotted down her email address and contact information, accepting one of Ducky's business cards in exchange.
"Excellent. Ah, here's dessert!" she said when the bartender delivered two tall drinks filled with what appeared to be a chocolate shake, with chocolate sauce along the sides. "I wasn't sure if he could actually make these, so glad he could."
"What exactly do you call this?" Ducky asked, taking a sip and noticing the subtle hint of alcohol underneath the sweetness.
"It's called a Mudslide."
THE END!
Author's Note: Sorry, I simply could not resist. A Mudslide is one of my sister's favorite drinks…a grownup's chocolate shake. Thanks to all who read this!