Title: All the Difference
Rating: T for language and theme
Disclaimer: Gibbs, Tony, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer, and Kate are not my characters. The others are my creation. Any names used are intended in a fictional sense and any similarities to real persons living or otherwise is strictly coincidental.
Summary: A difficult case affects the entire team, but one member in particular, in unexpected ways.
Pairings:. This isn't technically a shipper story though, as it primarily centres on the team working a case, however, Jasmine/Palmer are mentioned, and McGee/Abby is strongly implied.
Author's Note: This is intended as an extended sequel to "The Road Less Travelled By," which is a single chapter short fic centred on Jimmy Palmer, and is posted here. http/ I would strongly suggest a few moments to read it before reading this one, just for background and to avoid the inevitable "who the hell is THAT?" I promise it's very short and takes just a few minutes to read. :)
Author's Other Note: The title of this fic, and a quote at the end is in reference to my favourite poem, "The Road Not Taken," by the wonderfully gifted writer Robert Frost. I make no claim to his words, but am nevertheless grateful for his eloquence. No infringement is intended.
The Nick of Time
Gibbs closed his eyes briefly as he hung up the phone.
"We've got bodies, a Marine and his family."
McGee looked up, startled. "And his family, Boss?"
Tony also looked up, but said nothing, his eyes expressing enough shock without having to voice the words.
"McGee, gas the truck," Gibbs said, tossing the keys to the stunned junior agent. Tim was already standing up when he reached out and snatched the keys from mid-air.
Tony grabbed his weapon from his desk drawer and holstered it as he watched McGee do the same, and leave quickly for the garage. He looked at Gibbs, but the older man offered up no other explanation as they headed towards the elevator.
……………………………………………………………………………
Ducky and Palmer arrived quickly at the house.
What they were met with would haunt them both, for a long, long time.
Staff Sergeant Mark Tennant, off duty and in civilian clothing, bludgeoned to death in the middle of his living room. The apparent weapon sat on the floor, seemingly carelessly cast aside.
His wife, in the kitchen, apparently strangled.
Palmer paled as he swallowed hard, knowing that this couple had a young daughter. He looked at Ducky, who simply gave him a sad look of resignation. He crouched down, taking a liver temp on the woman. "She's been dead, I would say… less than 3 hours." Ducky raised an eyebrow as he checked the thermometer. "Indeed."
Palmer stood as he walked carefully around the house, watching as Tony sketched and McGee took pictures. He watched Gibbs and Ziva carefully look over the house, searching for elusive clues.
He stepped into the dining room, and stopped dead in his tracks.
There she was.
The entire team knew from pictures and cards displayed around the home that the little girl's name was Emily. She couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old, by the look of her.
He walked cautiously over to her, careful to take pictures first, trying to ignore the flashes of memory that were assaulting his consciousness, then crouched down and touched her cheek with his gloved hand. She seemed so peaceful, almost as if she were only sleeping. In fact, she seemed strangely warm to the touch. "Oh, Michaela," he said softly, his voice filled with regretful sorrow. He looked up as McGee and Tony saw him and approached. "Actually Palmer, her name is Emily," Tony said, looking oddly at McGee, who simply shrugged. McGee's green eyes suddenly grew wide with comprehension as he realized what Palmer had just said, but he remained silent anyway.
The three men all swallowed back angry bile as they took note of the deep, telltale bruises on her neck, and Palmer gently brushed her hair aside to take a closer look. He thought he knew what he'd see when he opened her eyelids - the telltale petechial hemorrhaging that was indicative of strangulation. What he wasn't prepared for was to see her pupils contract as the sudden assault of light hit them.
He gasped and sat back quickly.
"Dr. Mallard!" he called out, nearly frantic with shock and urgency, as he leaned forward and checked for a pulse and breathing.
"What?" Tony asked, as McGee's jaw dropped slightly and his eyes grew wide.
"Agent DiNozzo, this little girl is still alive."