Pocket Watches and Farting Toys
Ziva didn't have much trouble catching up with Jimmy, when they'd returned to the Navy Yard. The young man was quiet, and seemed lost in thought, and trudged along, very nearly dragging his feet in dejection.
"There you are, my darling," she said, catching up to him and linking her arm around his. "How about dinner at my place tonight, after work. Just the two of us. I cooked something special for us," she said, trying to entice him.
"Oh, Ziva… hon, I don't think so. I'm not really in the mood for it." Jimmy smiled at her, very unconvincingly.
"Nonsense. It's your birthday. I've been planning this dinner for you for weeks, now. You have to come over. It'll be a lovely evening, just the two of us. You can vent about your day… we can snuggle down in front of my fireplace, with some wine, perhaps. It'll be very, very romantic." Ziva was insistent, and she continued her steady, dark eyed gaze up at him, until finally, he relented.
"Okay, fine. I'll be there." He tried to smile at her again, but only managed a half-hearted effort. He was just too tired and frustrated from the collective events of the day to really even fake enthusiasm.
Not that he normally needed to fake enthusiasm where Ziva was concerned. In fact, neither one of them really had to make an effort to be truly happy, in each other's company. Ziva was one of the few people who had treated him with respect, and genuine friendship, almost from the moment they'd met. He adored her for it, and the adoration, it had eventually become apparent, was mutual.
Ziva beamed up at him. "Excellent. I will see you later then," she said, reaching up to stroke his face and kiss him lightly.
Trust Ziva to be the one bright spot in an otherwise dark and dismal day.
……………………………………………………………………………
When Jimmy had returned to his desk in the morgue, he stood, staring at it, completely perplexed.
There, sitting on top of a pile of file folders, were three boxes. One of them, the smallest box, had attached to it a handwritten note - short, and to the point.
"Mr. Palmer," it read, in Ducky's distinctive hand writing.
Ducky peeked his head around the corner, watching. Around another corner, also unseen, were several sets of eyes and ears, watching and listening with barely contained excitement.
Jimmy picked the box up, staring at it, almost in disbelief.
Ducky had to stop himself from giggling like a school boy, as Jimmy carefully and delicately opened the small box. He watched, as Jimmy's green eyes grew wide with surprise. Inside the box was a beautifully intricate antique style pocket watch. Jimmy smiled to himself as he delicately removed it from the box and studied it, appreciating the fine detail and craftsmanship, then turned it around and read the engraved inscription. His eyes grew slightly wide and his face lit up with surprise and delight, as he read the words,
"Dr. James Palmer, M.E."
Ducky couldn't stand it anymore. He stepped out of the shadows, and into Jimmy's line of vision.
"Happy Birthday, my boy. If you look at the clock, you'll see that the watch is already set for you." Jimmy swallowed, and took a moment to find his voice. "Dr. Mallard… I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"Carry this with some measure of pride when you take my place here, Jimmy. I know you'll make me proud, because I know that you will do this job justice. And you will help to bring justice to the unfortunate souls who find themselves here, on our tables. In fact, you already do, dear fellow."
"I… I'm speechless, Doctor. Really." Jimmy shook his head, unable to wipe the smile from his face all of a sudden. It was a beautiful sight to the old doctor, to once again see his young assistant's familiar bright, youthful grin, after the hellish day he knew the poor lad had just endured.
"Now, I wonder what's in those other boxes?" Ducky seemed as curious as a young boy on Christmas morning.
Jimmy picked up the middle sized one, and read the note. In Tony's free-spirited hand, was written "Happy Birthday to our favourite (only) Autopsy Gremlin" (and here, there was a hand drawn happy face, to ensure that the nickname would not be taken as a put-down), "from Tony and Tim." Added below it, in Tim's neat and tidy southpaw script, was the suggestion, "Wear these to the rest of our crime scenes, along with your hiking merit badge," followed by a sideways internet-style smiley – a typical and expected greeting from their resident computer forensics expert.
He couldn't stop the wince of memory - of a badly sprained ankle long since healed, and the small explosion of a hearty chuckle escaping from his throat as he opened the box to find a pair of expensive high-end hiking boots. "Oh, my," he laughed softly. "They're not gonna let me forget that, are they?" Ducky shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my dear boy."
The final, largest box sat, untouched. Jimmy turned to that one next, but paused a moment, unsure. This one was from Gibbs and Abby.
Gibbs, he wasn't worried about. But Abby… he loved the woman like a sister, but God only knew what might be in this box. His burning curiosity as to the contents was solidly tempered by a slight feeling of dread.
"Well, I'm sure it won't jump out and bite you on the buttocks, Mr. Palmer." Ducky smiled warmly, crossing his arms. Jimmy raised an eyebrow at his mentor. "You know that for sure, Sir? This is from Abby." Ducky nodded, and sighed with amusement. "Point taken, my boy."
Jimmy needn't have worried. Inside the final box were two items.
One was labelled in Gibbs' neat but impatient scrawl. "Happy Birthday Jimmy, from Agent Gibbs. Nothing teaches patience like building a boat in your basement."
Underneath the note there lay a box. It was a wooden model set, of a large, intricate sailboat, expert level. Jimmy studied the picture on the box closely. "This is beautiful," he said softly, almost to himself.
Next, he removed the second item from the box. Wrapped loosely in black tissue paper, and tied delicately with black ribbon decorated with white skulls and crossbones, was something soft and spongy.
"To Jimmy, hug me when you need a friend, and when that damned model sailboat has you at your wits end, Lovealways,from Abby."
Curious, Jimmy gave the soft package a firm squeeze, and was greeted with a loud, resounding faux fart.
"Oh… I didn't know Bert had a brother…" he said, laughing in spite of - or perhaps even because of - the crass noise the package had just made. Even Ducky smiled at the crude humour of it. He had himself, after all, been a young boy once, amused far too easily by such things, as most young boys are.
"Oh, yeah. I looked everywhere for him, too. You didn't actually think all I was giving you was a stupid black rose, did you Jims?"
Jimmy whipped around, pivoting on the spot, and was shocked to discover the entire NCIS crew standing there, every last one of them grinning stupidly, eyes asparkle.
"I… guys, I don't know what to say. I mean, I didn't think anyone even knew. Well, uh… besides Ziva and Abby, of course." Jimmy was beginning to blush a deep shade of crimson.
"You probably didn't think anyone even cared, either, did you?" McGee asked, with a small warm, almost brotherly smile. Jimmy shook his head. "Truly, no. This day has just been one screaming disaster after another. I was starting to think there wasn't anything I could do right."
"Yes, well," Ducky said sheepishly, clearing his throat. "A regrettable course of action, but a necessary one, I'm afraid. We had to ensure that this little get together was a completely unexpected surprise. You see, Jethro realized that you may already have mistakenly believed that nobody knew what today was, and so you would not have been surprised that we had simply forgotten… so I'm afraid a more drastic plan of action was called for. I do apologize for my reaction this morning. You were, of course, several minutes early, as usual."
Jimmy looked at Ducky, confused. Then, he turned and glanced towards Tony and McGee. Tony smiled, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "That was my footprint you walked through. No harm, no foul. You didn't actually do any damage at that crime scene. Sorry."
"Well then, what about my liver temp thermometer?"
Ducky shrugged at this. "My old one. I switched them before we left."
"And… your reaction in the lab?" Jimmy asked, turning to McGee. Tim winked and grinned. "There was method to the madness, Palmer. But Abby tells me the kiss was a genuine gesture."
"Unbelievable," Jimmy muttered, sitting down. "Thank you so much, everyone. Really. You could have knocked me over with a feather just now."
"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze. "Better get those boots broken in before our next case though, or you'll have blisters out the wazoo."
"Well, if you are all finished with my Jimmy, I have dinner waiting for us at home," Ziva said, moving over to where he sat. He blushed again when she reached down and kissed him squarely on the top of his head. "You remember how to build a fire, yes? You were a boy scout?"
"Uh huh," he nodded, turning his face up to meet her delighted expression. "Good," Ziva answered, satisfied. "We'll need a nice, romantic fire to go with that Kosher wine you brought last week."
"Okay, that's too much information," Tony said loudly, leading the way out. "See you tomorrow, guys."
Abby and McGee waved. "Make sure Ziva brings leftovers for lunch tomorrow," Abby giggled, taking McGee's hand. "Oh, come on Abs, you don't really think they're gonna leave any leftovers?" McGee chided gently, then turned as they departed the morgue, whispering to her, "They'll probably have them for breakfast." Then he turned towards the remaining members of the group. "Seeya tomorrow, Jimmy," he waved.
"If you need any pointers on that boat, let me know," Gibbs offered. "But I don't think you'll have too many problems. You're pretty good with your hands." Ziva giggled. "Yes, he certainly is." Jimmy blushed deeply, for the third time in as many minutes. "Ziva, really," he said bashfully. Gibbs frowned. "I didn't hear that, Officer David," he commented lightly, as he too left autopsy.
"Well, I really must be getting home," Ducky sighed. "Mother has offered to cook dinner tonight. I must cut her off at the pass before it's too late. To think that some poor chicken might have died in vain is almost too much to bear," he said, shaking his head. "Not even Tyson and Contessa will touch her cooking. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Palmer. I will see you in the morning. Same time, I trust. Precisely seven minutes early, as usual." Jimmy nodded and waved. "Yes, Doctor. Same time, same place. Thanks again." Ducky nodded in acknowledgement as he departed.
"Well, dinner is waiting, Bubbeleh," Ziva said, gently pulling him to his feet.
Jimmy followed her obediently, taking her hand in his and allowing her to lead the way out. He smiled with contentment, and thought to himself that this really should be a lesson to him, to never again give up so easily on a day that's seemingly turned so horribly, dreadfully bad.
