Oct 9
I passed to the altered days when I was so blest as to find friends in all around me, and to be beloved. – Charles Dickens
Ducky stood patiently in the elevator, autopsy results in hand. Petty Officer Dixon had had nothing unexpected to tell him – the time of death was obvious as there had been twenty witnesses and three independent video tapes of the Petty Officer keeling over on a college campus.
Nevertheless, an autopsy had been necessary and now he had to hand the report over to Jethro. Well, Jethro's temporary replacement as Rule 38 was in effect. Anthony was in charge until they worked out why someone had poisoned the lead suspect in a homicide from his days as a Baltimore cop.
The elevator doors slid open and Ducky stepped off, his feet instinctively carrying him to Jethro's part of the squad room. He really did make this trip too often…
He recognized the formation of chairs in seconds. Anthony was having one of his infamous campfires. Ziva and Timothy looked mutinous – Ziva's eyes showed her homicidal desires. Jethro sat patiently while Anthony babbled on about something.
It did not take long for him to be noticed.
"Take a seat, Ducky," Tony grinned. "Come join in."
He took the proffered seat, his heart swelling with joy at the thought of being included in such a way.
"Our suspect pool is still far too big," Ziva complained. "It seems as though everyone hated this man."
"With good reason," Timothy muttered.
"Okay, so he was a liar and an all-round pain in the neck," Tony pointed out. "But he was my chief suspect and I need to know who killed him."
"I'm afraid I cannot help you with that," Ducky stated. "Abigail will be able to confirm the poison used and that may narrow your search. But everything else was in order."
"Thank you, Ducky," Tony smiled. "Campfire over."
Ducky pushed back his chair and rose, smiling. He knew there was a reason he spent more time with this team than any other…
