A/N: So I finally found the time, and got rid of my writers block! I'm hoping there'll be another update very soon, thanks for your patience; college stuff has taken up a lot of my time :)

"Why," Jenny voiced aloud as she stormed into her office, once again attracting concerned looks from Cynthia. "Is it so difficult to drug somebody? You would think that, in the middle of D.C., I would be able to find somewhere that would sell me illicit, banned narcotic substances. But no. I – "

"Uh, Director? Are you alright?"

Jenny looked up, praying that Cynthia hadn't heard what she was saying.

"Fine, thank you," she replied curtly. "Just…just…just thinking aloud. About some – some files. That will be all, thank you, Cynthia," she finished, and waved off her bemused assistant, who nonetheless obeyed.

Prescriptions…I could ask Ducky for a prescription!

Her mind made up, Jenny set about working out how to get Ducky to write her a prescription for painkillers.

"I agree, Jethro; this young man certainly did not live a virtuous life. Abby's toxicology report will be able to shed more light on the matter, though.

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs told him, and left before Ducky could launch into another drawn-out story.

The doors swished once, then again, seconds later. Smiling, Ducky turned around.

"Forgotten something, Jeth-oh, Director. What can I do for you?"

"It's about my arm, Ducky. I twisted it last week, and it's still giving me some trouble, could you-"

Ducky motioned for her to come closer, and then proceeded to examine her arm, turning it over and looking for the source of the pain she described.

Jenny winced a little, for effect, mainly, although the site of the open body on the table made her wonder just what the medical examiner's hands had been in just moments before. Putting it out of her mind, she instead focused on giving a convincing performance. Ducky, at least, seemed convinced.

"Well, Jenny, I would say that it is obvious you are in some pain."

"So…meds?"

He laughed.

"I'm afraid, Jenny, that I can't prescribe you anything for it. See a specialist. They will be able to help you more than I can. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

Disappointed, Jenny tried to argue.

"But, but – it hurts when I write!"

Ducky sighed, and looked his friend in the eyes.

"I can't write you a prescription, but I can tell you to describe these symptoms to somebody else. Now, if you'll excuse me," he repeated, this time with more force.

Jenny obliged, turned and left, trying not to show her frustration at her plan being thwarted. On her way out of autopsy, a tartan-print, pigtailed streak barrelled into her, yelping something about a toxicology report. Jenny shook her head and grabbed the woman by the shoulders as she attempted to run down Jenny in her haste.

"Abby. Abby…Abby…ABBY!"

"What? Oh, uh, Director, uh, sorry, I'm…just…excited, that's all! I found the drugs, I found them, they were in there the whole time, right inside the evidence lockup, this could solve the case! This could be it! This could…"

Jenny, however, had already stopped listening. Evidence lockup, of course! Her smile firmly back in place, she left a rambling and rather confused forensic scientist behind her as she headed for the garage.