Chapter Two
When Abby came into her lab the next day, Gibbs was already there, inspecting the results of the clean-up. "I think you're good to go in here, Abbs," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Great!" she said with a sunny smile. "Fabulous! Fantastic! Wunderbar! Ausgezeichnet! Preeminente! Exquisitus! Ekuserento!— that last one is Japanese, in case you were keeping score."
He smirked. "Glad to hear it. If you want to hang out in the squad room when they come to replace the window, you're welcome to do so. It's pretty cold out there today." He nodded toward one of the remaining windows, where sleet could be heard hitting the glass.
"I might do that. Thanks, Gibbs!" She smiled gleefully; and he went out, bearing his coffee and an uncommon smile in return. But her smile wasn't for him, it was for Palmer's secret, which had been in her mind since yesterday.
Abby didn't consider herself to be sexist or judgmental in any way, but the notion of guys making jewelry...it was too funny for words. Particularly geeky, socially clumsy Palmer. Just when he would seem to redeem himself as an understanding, decent, normal human being, something like this would turn up. Now of course, she could never tell anyone about this...
It was still in her mind a little while later when she ran into Ziva in the ladies' room. "You look like the cat that has slobbered the canary," remarked Ziva.
" 'Swallowed' is the expression. Just ask me why I am grinning. Go ahead, ask." The part of her brain that ruled Sensibility screamed at her to stop, but she ignored it. This was too much fun.
Ziva squared her shoulders, prepared for an over-the-top Abbyism. "Very well. Why are you grinning?"
Abby leaned forward, the grin replaced by a conspiratorial smile. "Someone among us has a secret. A deep, dark secret."
"Well, it is not I, so it must be you. What is your secret?"
"No! No! I mean, among us in the larger sense."
"Someone large who works for NCIS?" Ziva was truly puzzled. Of all the people who worked at this agency, Abby was the hardest for her to understand, sometimes.
"It's Palmer!" Abby exclaimed, waving her hands. She then halted. Naming Palmer hadn't been her intention; that part had just slipped out.
"Oh. Well, he is large, I guess. What is his secret?"
"I'm not sure I should be telling you," said Abby, feeling her conscience starting to kick her mental shins.
"Then why did you bring it up?"
Abby's sense of fun chased the shin-kickers away. "Okay, okay; you wormed it out of me!"
"I...did what?"
"Palmer...makes jewelry! Necklaces, anyway. I just discovered this yesterday."
Ziva considered. "As a hobby, yes? I do not think I have ever known a man who did that."
"Exactly! It's just so..."
"Unusual?"
"Unnatural! Don't you think that says a lot about him?"
"He is a man engaging in a woman's hobby?"
"Yes!! It's hilarious!! I'm expecting him to start wearing them anytime now!!" Abby couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up from deep down. "Can't you just see it in Autopsy...he's leaning over a body, and the necklace around his neck sways, following gravity...maybe the sparkly stones catch the lights..."
Ziva chuckled in spite of herself. "We should not laugh, perhaps. If he wants to do that, who should care?"
"Aw, now that's not the spirit! We're all friends here...so what if we store up a little information to use against each other, now and then? Like you and Tony teasing McGee? It's harmless fun."
"I suppose you're right..."
"Someday the whole story will come out, anyway. We're just hurrying it along!"
Ziva smiled then. "I must get back to work. Thank you for the news!"
They went their own ways. Abby was glad that she had been able to share the information with someone who would appreciate the absurdity of it all. She didn't give it another thought as she returned to work in a lab with a new window.
- - - - -
Ziva was smiling as she returned to her desk. "What's with you?" asked Tony the Observant. "What are you smiling about?"
"Can a woman not just smile? Perhaps I am happy." she said, her smile undiminished. She glanced at her teammates. In her mind she saw Tony wearing a necklace of black pearls; and McGee, one of lapis lazuli. She doubled over in laughter.
"You must be really happy," Tim stated. "And amused by it."
The light reflected on something on Tim's computer when he turned his head, and for an instant it did look like he was wearing jewelry. "Earrings!" she gasped. "Earrings!!"
Gibbs was not around. Tony and Tim converged on Ziva's desk, wearing hopeful grins. "My scuttlebutt alarm system is going off," Tony said. "Dish, dish!"
Ziva smirked. "Palmer is making necklaces. Long ones with shiny spacers that catch the light. And he wears them while he works, hidden under his scrubs!"
The men tittered, guffawed, and howled. "Now you," said Tim to Tony, "Can never, ever, come up with an insult to me that will top this!"
"Oh, I do not think of it as an insult to Palmer," Ziva said, wiping the laughter tears from her eyes.
"Well, I do," Tony said, nearly choking on his laughter. "The Autopsy Gremlin has written himself a new page in the annals of his improbable life!"
"But why should it matter?" Ziva said as a small sense of fair play ran through her mind, blowing a horn as it went. "Do not men here wear long golden chains, an earring in one ear, lots of rings?"
"That's different," said Tony, without saying why. "But how did you learn this?"
"Abby told me, just now."
"I don't know how Abby knows this," said Tim, "but she's a reliable source. I don't think I'll ever look at Palmer the same way again!"
- - - - -
Jimmy was late coming into work that day after his morning classes; his Metro train died between stations, so it was past 1 o'clock when he arrived in Autopsy. After he'd returned home the previous day, he remembered the unfinished necklace in his pocket, and he'd panicked. Were it not such a long commute (and trains infrequent in the middle of the day), he would have gone back to NCIS for it. The cost of the beads was not insignificant (more than the pearls, actually), and then there was the time he'd spent matching the beads to positions; stringing them, tying knots; stretching the strung necklace...
It would be one of the best he'd ever done. He was proud of it. It would fetch a good price at his cousin Glenna's arts shop. At her suggestion, he would ask a higher price this time than he had been; one more in line with what professional makers did.
He couldn't bear the thought of losing his handiwork to some cleaning machine.
Seeing Ducky rounding a corner, he ducked out of sight. Where would they have taken our clothing? With pain in his chest, fearing that it all had long been spirited away, he looked in small room after small room. Then in the last one, he found a hamper. He dug into it eagerly, pulling out his scrubs, and pawing at the trousers pockets. Yes! It's still here! Intact, unmolested.
And best of all, no one at NCIS knew about it.
- - - - -
To be continued...