Workaholic Past

When Gibbs had finally turned in, he lay awake. Now, it must be understood, that Gibbs still does not believe in ghosts. But the sudden appearance of Agent Todd had most definitely unnerved him. So he lay awake, restless, thinking all the while that if he were to simply lay there counting the popcorn on the ceiling, then perhaps he'd be better off to be downstairs, spending his time productively, working on his boat.

Suddenly, his bedroom blinds began to knock against the wood frame of the window. Gibbs lay motionless, he'd been sure he'd closed the window. He carefully and quietly arose from bed, and checked the window again.

He nearly had a cardiac incident when a voice was heard from behind.

"There you are, Agent Gibbs. I checked your basement first, but you weren't there."

"Palmer?" Gibbs muttered to himself, slowly turning around.

JT giggled. "Uncle Jimmy?" he asked suddenly. Ducky nodded. "Yes, JT. Uncle Jimmy." He glanced at the young M.E., who had settled down next to Jasmine, and was rocking Jeremy gently in his car seat with one foot.

"Palmer, do NOT tell me that you're one of the…"

"Three spirits? Actually, Agent Gibbs, I am. I'm the ghost of Workaholic Past."

"Don't you mean, the ghost of CHRISTMAS Past?" Gibbs asked him, confused.

"You don't look like a mean old tightwad miser to me, Sir."

Gibbs grumbled. "Do not call me Sir, Palmer."

The spirit before him ignored this. "I'm here to show you what you were like, before your work took over your life so completely."

"You're gonna SHOW me, right? You're not gonna tell me one of those endless stories like Ducky does, are you?" Gibbs seemed worried about this.

"Well, I could if I wanted to. I'm the ghost, here, it's my show right now. But no, I'll be showing you," Jimmy said, grinning sweetly. With that, he reached out and touched Gibbs' arm, and the interior of his bedroom suddenly faded away.

"Jimmy, I know we sometimes joke that you haunt Autopsy, but I had no idea that it was such a literal thing," Tony commented lightly.

Jimmy winked at him, and pointed to his and Jasmine's two offspring. "I don't spend ALL of my time there," he said, waggling his eyebrows briefly. Jasmine glanced at Tony and winked, as if confirming what her husband had just said.

Ducky paused a moment from his story, while Caitlin and JT jumped down and switched sides. He took a sip from his cider. My, that was wonderful stuff. How much rum had Jasmine put in it, anyway? It certainly tasted like another one…

He cleared his throat.

When their surroundings once again materialised, Gibbs was surprised to find himself in his childhood home.

"See, Agent Gibbs… you used to do something that all children like to do."

"What's that?" he asked, absently. He was fascinated by his surroundings, so filled with childhood memories. It suddenly occurred to him that whatever his coffee had been spiked with, it was good stuff. It almost tasted like another one.

"Do you need a refill, Ducky?" Faith asked. Ducky smiled. "Yes, Faith, that would be wonderful, thank you my dear. Now, where was I… oh, yes."

"You used to have fun. You used to enjoy life, as all children do."

"Do I LOOK like a child to you, Jimmy?" Jimmy smiled at him, with his usual warm grin. "No, of course you don't. But we all have an inner child that allows us to unwind and remember simpler times. Even as adults… well, especially as adults. Things can become so complicated, so quickly. Having fun and acting young now and then can help us to remain grounded."

"I was a cute kid," Gibbs observed, suddenly. Jimmy frowned at him. "You're trying to change the subject, Sir. And I will call you that if I want to. So there."

"So there. You sound like a little kid, Palmer," Gibbs responded, disdainfully.

"Well, maybe, but it just goes to show that I haven't lost touch with my inner child. Yours has been sent to summer camp and never heard from again."

"Okay, so it was a simpler time. And I enjoyed it. I even miss it, sometimes," Gibbs was finally forced to admit. Jimmy sighed happily. "Now, we're getting somewhere, Jethro."

Gibbs glared at him, briefly, then decided it was pointless to argue with a ghost, even if it was the ghost of Jimmy Palmer. "That's more like it. Be more open minded, Agent Gibbs. Don't be such a stuffy old stick-in-the-mud. Enjoy life a little, like you did when you were a child."

"Well… maybe, you're right," Gibbs finally admitted.

"My time here is running short," Jimmy said. "We need to get you home." Gibbs frowned again. "Home" was what Jimmy and Ducky referred to as the morgue back at NCIS. "Not THAT home, Agent Gibbs. You're not that far gone yet. Believe me, I'd know if you were. No, I mean, your home. The one with the boat in the basement that you still have no earthly idea how you're going to get it outside."

"Well… you're not of this earth, are you Palmer?" Gibbs asked, hopefully. The ghost shook his head. "No."

"Do YOU have any ideas how to get it out?" Palmer shook his head again, shrugging his shoulders regretfully. "Not a clue."

Gibbs shrugged as his surroundings once again vanished before his eyes. When he materialised in his bedroom again, he just had time to mutter, "Well, it was worth a shot, anyway," as he realised that he was once again alone with his thoughts.

"Snack break!" Ziva called out suddenly. The group glanced at her as she jumped up and dashed into the kitchen to retrieve the tray of goodies she'd arrived with. As the tray made its way around the room, Ducky sat quietly, thinking about the next chapter of his story.