It was Abby's dream come true: an entire roller coaster train all to herself and all she wanted to do was jump in, raise her arms above her head and scream at the top of her lungs. The moment she had received the email first thing in the morning, she had leapt from her stool, thrown on her orange overalls and raced for the elevator. She admired the train for a few minutes, savouring the joy and then collected a specimen jar and a small knife and started looking for evidence.
She was still smiling wickedly when the door squished open and McGee walked in wearing orange overalls to match her own.
"Whatchya got, Abbs?"
"Nothing much," she admitted, "but I did manage to scrape something off the underside of the bar." She held up a small vial containing a grey/pink powdery substance.
"Any fingerprints?" The moment he asked, he knew he was going to regret it.
"Yes, McGee," she said sarcastically, "every adolescent in the area is currently under suspicion.
He closed his eyes for a moment and let the tirade pass. When it seemed safe, he opened them again.
"Can I try something?"
"Sure."
"The attendant said the guy was the same build as me," McGee started to analyse thoughtfully, "and yet he said had trouble getting the bar into the locked position because of this guy's stomach."
Abby frowned at him, scrutinising his stomach until she met his annoyed glance.
"I was just about to check the locking mechanism," she offered placing the small vial carefully on the evidence trolley.
McGee hopped into the front carriage. "Can you lock it?"
Abby pulled down the bar and it locked easily. She shrugged at him. "Yep, I can on this one, but that's not the one he was in. And don't even think about it, I want to check over the whole carriage first before your butt contaminates the evidence."
"OK, I'm just going to have another look at this guy."
McGee never relished his experiences in autopsy and this time was going to be no exception. When he arrived, he was surprised to find the room abandoned, its frigid air seeming even more sterile than usual. As the door slid shut he could have swore in heard a woman's giggle. He must be losing it. He shrugged and took two steps towards the drawers before he realised he had no idea where the body he wanted was stored. He looked around for some sort of directory but the room was immaculately free of any documentation.
He sighed. If there was one thing worse than looking at a dead body in autopsy, it was sorting though a lot of dead bodies trying to find the right one. The best way, he decided, was to start at the top and conduct an orderly search.
He pulled open the first drawer and tried not to cringe at the rotting remains he found there. No, not that one. The second drawer was thankfully empty. By the time he had reached the third one, he was beginning to be grateful he hadn't had much for breakfast. Then he came across a drawer that seemed stuck. He fought until it grudgingly slid out revealing Palmer and agent Lee obviously interrupted doing something more related to starting life than ending it.
Palmer, lying on top of a rather flushed Agent Lee, looked up with an embarrassed smile on his face.
"Ahhh, sorry," McGee stammered, hurriedly shutting the drawer.
He was already at the adjacent drawer before his pragmatic investigator side kicked in the he rocked back to the previous drawer. Opening it a couple of inches he peered in and asked sotto voice:
"Where's the body from the roller coaster?"
"Bottom row, second from the right," said Jimmy helpfully.
"OK," said McGee awkwardly, "thanks." He slid the drawer closed for a moment before pulling it out again, "My right or yours?"
Palmer let out a slight sigh of exasperation.
"Yours," he said indicating with his head that McGee could shut the drawer anytime now.
"Ah, right, thanks," McGee gave him an apologetic smile and shut the drawer again.
"And he wonders why I write that he dreams of humping dead people," he muttered to himself.
He shook his head to remove the memory of what he had just seen, trying to recall the comforting images of the dismembered and rotting corpses he had previously been repressing and headed for the drawer Jimmy had indicated.
He pulled hard and stood staring for a moment sizing up the man before him. To first order, they did share a body shape although the guy on the slab seemed a little worse the wear from his recent abrupt meeting with planet earth. What's more, the guy was not fat. He obviously worked out. What was the deal with the bar?
He slid the drawer closed thoughtfully and headed out the door back to Abby with an absent "thank you" and a couple of knocks with one of his knuckles on Palmer's drawer on his way out.
"What's up in autopsy?" called Abby from under the last carriage of the train.
"More that you'd think," replied McGee thoughtfully. "Did you know Palmer and Lee were…"
"Oh yeah, Ducky told me."
"What, why….," he paused and set his brain in neutral for a moment and attempted to jump start it again.
"But why in an autopsy drawer?"
"You've done hinker, McGee," Abby reminded him.
"Only with you," he pointed out.
"You got to get out more, McGee."
McGee pouted, "It's just: why am I always the last to know?"
Abby pushed herself out from under the carriage, "because you're too sweet."
"No I'm not!" McGee was indignant.
"Did you get them on McGee TV?" Abby challenged.
"Ah, well, no…." he averted his eyes, "I, ah, just didn't think of it…"
"Too sweet," Abby dismissed him jumping up.
He made to protest but the window of opportunity was slammed in his face by Abby's abrupt: "Jump in this carriage and I'll see if I can lock it on you. I can't find anything wrong with the mechanism at all."
He opened his mouth a couple of times deciding whether to acquiesce or attempt to retrieve his honour. Abby's impatient look over-ruled any thoughts of self inflation.
"Right," he said, climbing in the carriage.
Abby cast a professional eye over the carriage and the bar and brought the bar down hard on his lap. The force of the impact caused him to grunt.
"Was that really necessary?"
"It is if we're going to get this right."
She frowned as she examined every detail of the arrangement, pausing once to stare intently at his groin until he squirmed uncomfortably.
"What wrong, McGee?" Abby teased, "did I squash anything precious?"
"Ah, no…no you didn't. It's just that you keep staring…"
"A4 spiral bound notepad," Abby concluded sharply and released him from the bar's grip.
"What?"
"What you used 15 years ago to cover….that."
He shot her an exasperated look, "What did you conclude about the bar."
"I was more interested in 15 years ago…."
"When you were how old?"
"There is nothing wrong with the bar!" she snapped.
"Well, he's fitter than I am. Or at least he was. There's no way that attendant had to ram that bar against the guy's stomach. What the hell happened?"