June 25
Best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness! – George Eliot, The Spanish Gypsy
Palmer glanced over at his mentor. Ducky was carefully examining an x-ray on the other side of Autopsy, and he had been left to continue with the external examination.
He was proud to call Ducky a friend. The other man had taken him under his wing, showing him everything that he needed to know to succeed in his chosen profession and a good deal more besides. He couldn't think of anyone better.
He often thought of Ducky as a fountain of knowledge. His expertise seemed endless and he was happy to give it away to anyone. He was a wonderful role model.
He knew everything, from how to estimate an age from bones to the history of America. He could search a small intestine with his eyes closed, as well as recite large portions of opera. There was no subject he was ignorant of.
Palmer had to admire him. There was no one quite like Ducky; so eccentric, yet charming, insightful and caring. No one could take a load off his shoulders with such ease and without judging him in any way. No one knew exactly when he was starting to tire, with the exception of his mentor who would either find some way to hold his focus or give him a break.
He found it strange. Most of his friends were around his own age, but Ducky was a whole generation older. And somehow they got on like a house on fire.
"Are we ready to begin, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky called across the room.
"Yes, Doctor," Palmer grinned.