Disclaimer: NCIS characters and situations borrowed from TPTB; the original AU in these chapters was built from the one created by Montana-Rosalie in "Believe Again," FFN story ID #5047152 . Thanks once more to Montana-Rosalie for her permission to use it as a starting place for these scenes. This is the third duet between Tony and another in the NCIS world as he returns to the Navy Yard and a new job.

CHRONOLOGY WARNING: Chapters are still not in chronological order. If you like your stories in timeline sequence, I suggest Ziva/Ch. 1 as an overall intro, then Ducky/Ch. 5, Abby/Ch. 3, McGee/Ch. 4, Tony/ Ch.6, Gibbs/Ch. 2, Tony & Abby/Ch.8, this chapter/Tony & Palmer/Ch. 10, Vance/Ch. 7, and Tony & McGee/Ch.9.

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Believing Still

It was Week two, Day two after his return to work, and as he had every morning since his return, Tony was on his way to see Ducky. He would continue to see him each day for another couple weeks, so his stable of physicians could have a daily report of his vital signs and his mental acuity. It hadn't been required by the job or even for his health, but Tony figured owed them. Besides, it gave him a reason to stop in to see the garrulous doctor each morning as he psyched himself up to ease back into work, not in the field, when his schedule didn't otherwise include a good reason to see Gibbs or the team, or Abby and her babies, during the day. The chance to stop in and see Ducky each morning had made his return a little easier, the Scotsman's rambling stories a warm comfort after so long without them.

But this morning he and Ziva had come in later than usual, and he headed downstairs closer to 8:00 than his usual 7:00 a.m. When he got off the elevator and headed toward autopsy, hearing the doors swish open for him, he hoped he wasn't so late that he'd interrupt the doctor mid-autopsy.

He stepped inside and cocked an ear for the sound of movement, not hearing Ducky's cheery greeting immediately on arrival. What he did hear was a small movement, so small that it might have been his imagination, but he discounted that as soon as the possibility crossed his mind. "Ducky?" he called.

Another movement, more skittery this time, was followed by a stammer and a cleared throat. "Uh – ah – no, Tony; i...it's Jimmy. Palmer. Jimmy Palmer. Dr. Mallard isn't here; the Director called him upstairs to MTAC for a consult..."

"Oh. Okay." Tony nodded, the sudden face to face with Palmer unexpected and awkward. He supposed he should be glad that only one of his former colleagues seemed to be so awkward around him, no doubt uncomfortable around him as he was now, but it still nettled Tony that of anyone he'd known, it was the medical student, the guy who rooted around in dead bodies as gleefully as Ducky did, who was too freaked out by his injury and resulting blindness to even call, once he'd awakened, or to visit or stop by in his new department.

Tony sighed. He'd heard often enough in rehab from the staff and from others in the program about those "out there" who would be different, faced with a friend now blind, but he wouldn't have thought it would be Palmer. Palmer, almost a doctor now, and a surprisingly good and faithful wingman when he had needed someone he could trust, outside the team, when it meant letting his insecurities or indecision show. It had disappointed DiNozzo more than he let show when Ziva confessed that on the couple occasions when he came into the Navy Yard to visit, before starting back to work, and others had come up to talk or welcome him back, Palmer had run the other way, making himself scarce until the chance of running into Tony was well past.

But he just tipped his head in thanks and offered the man a small smile before retreating. "I'll just stop back later, then." As he turned to go, Tony heard a little squeak from Palmer that developed into a cough, then a voice, though a little higher pitched than usual.

"Was there something ... I mean, is there ... can I help with anything?"

Tony stopped, weighing his options. He knew Palmer could take the readings he needed; if he could find the file Ducky had kept on him Jimmy could even read off the pre-written "cognition" test they had him run every morning to check his mental dexterity. Ducky never seemed to mind doing the five minute check-up, but it was a bit of an imposition, and Tony knew it might be a way to force things past this awkwardness with Palmer. So he nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind. Dr. Pitt and Dr. Rosolov have me under orders to report to Ducky for a daily BP, temp, pulse and brain function check. If you could at least get the basics it would save Ducky from having to do them later."

"Okaaay," Palmer drawled out a little, clearly puzzled with the order, but moving efficiently to gather what he needed. "Are they ... looking for something specific?" he asked, apparently fishing for clues about the odd orders.

Tony smirked a little at the reason as he explained, "not exactly. It's just getting a – well, what's the opposite of a baseline? The two of them are torturing me, figuring I owe each of them for keeping me alive, some nonsense like that." He began embellishing the story, hoping Palmer might laugh a little, too. "Between the plague and the bashing in of my skull, they've decided I'd make a great paper, so they've submitted me to some sort of colloquium and are going to present the Tony DiNozzo medical round-up at some big conference next month. This is all just statistical post-injury data, so they can prove how they restored me to perfect health, and have even got back to working at a federal agency for taxpayers' dollars. I figure as long as they didn't have to cut or drill into me, it wasn't so bad. I drew the line at daily MRIs, though."

"Ohhh." Palmer was otherwise silent for several moments, so rooted in place, Tony surmised, as he chewed on the information. "But ... you said something about Dr. Mallard doing a ... a brain function check, too?" Jimmy moved again, so DiNozzo took a seat on the examination table, the drill well ingrained, and the gremlin added in a rushed murmur, "your ... ah ... your sleeve, if you'll ..."

Tony unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his shirt sleeve as he spoke. "The brain function thing is just a quick set of questions – a couple math problems, some word relationships, that kind of thing, for language processing, and a couple short term memory questions. They have a daily list they developed for him; it's in a file he keeps in his office somewhere."

"Ah. Well, that would be interesting – maybe I should find out when they're presenting, and see about going. Would be kinda odd, knowing it was you they were talking about."

As Tony waited for the cuff to be fastened around his bicep, Palmer's nervousness was palpable, in the small quaver of his voice, his too ready, higher than usual laugh, his slightly fumbling hands, his stammering request to put the thermometer under his tongue. Well, what else had they said in rehab, that it might fall to him to make others comfortable with the way things were now? It wasn't like Jimmy was ever all that socially graceful. As he waited for the cuff to be fastened around his bicep, Tony drew a breath, hoping he didn't sound forced, and spoke around the thermometer in his mouth, "so how've you been, Jimmy?"

The movements at his arm froze for the barest moment, then resumed, Palmer's voice sounding almost cautious. "Fine – fine. You?" The movement froze again, and Tony was certain it was because he'd suddenly reconsidered his knee-jerk response. "I m...mean... other than... you know." A little faster in his nervousness than he intended, Jimmy jerked the thermometer out of Tony's mouth, surprising the "patient" a little.

DiNozzo didn't know if he should laugh or sigh at Palmer's awkwardness around him, so managed to keep it to a soft smile. "I'm good. Great, actually. I'm all for sleeping in on the weekend, but four months? It was a bit much, even for me." There had to be some way to get Palmer to relax. "I get that you might not have taken the bashing on the head class yet ... but I'm not contagious, you know. And I know that I'm not quite back to where I was before I got creamed with a motor, so it's okay to mention it, if you want, Jimmy. And I won't bite. So ... no need to run the other way, okay?"

Palmer actually gasped a little, clearly stunned, but whether it was because Tony knew he'd been hiding from him, or just from his bluntness, it was hard to tell. The man's hands were ice cold, somehow fitting for an autopsy gremlin, but not how Tony wanted his friend to feel with it all. He sighed, trying to back up a little.

"Look – it's old news now, and things are getting back to normal. I just ..."

"No, Tony, you're right – and I owe you an apology for not coming to see you. It was pretty low."

Tony shrugged, and waved it off. "Nothin' much to see. As long as we're good now, though, right?" There was a long pause and Tony tried again, "right?"

"Yeah, I..." This time Palmer's voice was softer, less tense – but filled with regret. "I should have come, to the hospital, or to see you at the rehab center, but ... I couldn't. I hadn't ever faced that before, seeing someone I knew being treated for such devastating injuries. I ... I mean ... I know I was around, when you got the plague, but I wasn't ..." He fumbled with the words, looking for a way to explain his lapse. "And that was really the worst any of you have been sidelined, except of course Agent Gibbs and his coma, but his wasn't too long, and once he came back..."

"All his bodily parts were intact?" Tony tried making light of things, hoping a bit of humor in his voice would help.

At that, Palmer's eyes darted quickly and guiltily to Tony's, then down again as their obvious lack of connection simply underscored this awkwardness. But then he looked up again and saw, in the studied, neutral expression Tony carefully maintained, just who he'd let down – and how badly – when he of all people there, as a medical student, should be able to consider all the ripples a stone in Tony's pond would create.

And in that moment he felt a sudden strength, remembering what it had meant to him, being DiNozzo's confidante, even if it was a Hobson's choice and he'd simply been the only "outsider" handy that first time Tony needed an ear. The fact that Tony kept coming back meant he'd been a help – a friend – when DiNozzo needed it. And he might have really sucked here lately at being a friend, but he was darn sure he'd make up for it now.

"Well, yes," he straightened, and drew a breath to begin slowly, "but he wasn't someone I really knew well, so it wasn't the same." Jimmy watched Tony closely as he found his words and came out from behind the examination table he'd been unconsciously using as a shield between them. "Tony, I owe you an apology for my – absence – since you were injured, both from visiting, and ... from being there, when you might have liked an ear from someone not on the team. I let you down."

It clearly wasn't what DiNozzo expected; he blinked a little in surprise, the words throwing off any glib words he had ready. In a moment, though, his expression was neutral, schooled, and it matched his shrug of casual indifference. "Hey, no biggie; it wasn't like I was doing much that needed back-up..."

"But I didn't know that. I should have been out there; maybe if I'd been around I could have been some help with something – even if only to bring some Jamaican Blue Mountain. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have that at the hospital. But the point is," he rushed on, both to avoid any awkward silences and to keep himself from losing his nerve, "you're a friend, Tony, and I should have at least called or come seen you."

Tony again went for a shrug, and shook his head as he opened his mouth to speak – but he hesitated, words again failing him, and he closed it, without comment. That alone let Palmer know that his failure to be there for his friend, no matter who had been there for Tony, had been hurtful.

"But ... if you'll let me ... maybe I can make it up to you. At least get that coffee for a bull session, like we used to do."

Tony half smirked, nodding quietly, and offered, "yeah, maybe." He paused a moment, something else clearly on his mind, but finally spoke. "Look, Palmer, if it makes you uncomfortable ... if I make you uncomfortable, you can take a pass. It's okay."

"No, Tony, it's not." Jimmy said immediately, then amended, "and it's not that you make me uncomfortable. But it was different because it was you. See, all this time, even with all the bodies here and all the labs and the rounds we have to attend..." He'd gotten to the heart of things so slowed down, hoping Tony could really understand. "I've never had to see a friend hurt as badly as you were – as you are. I've never had to autopsy a friend or co-worker and more than anything I'm glad I didn't have to even consider that with you – or with anyone. But I've never had a friend lose his sight or hearing or some other ability, either ... and ... I didn't know how to react to it."

He found he'd been staring at the floor, as if the words he needed might be there, but now he looked up and searched Tony's face for some sign that he'd made himself clear. "I'm training to be a doctor, and what that means here, when I'm with Dr. Mallard, is that I'm working on someone who's already past saving to help find out what took their life. But outside of work here, I'm supposed to find ways to heal all the injuries and insults people take, everyday. Logically I know not everything can be fixed – if it could, Dr. Mallard would be out of a job." He sorted softly at his little joke, then realized it was yet another of his inappropriate stabs at humor and glanced guiltily at DiNozzo. Seeing Tony listening patiently, apparently willing to accept his apology, Palmer relaxed a little more as he realized how important it was that his friend understand. "But this time ... Tony, you're a friend – maybe the best one I have here at NCIS – and seeing you that first time on a ventilator, with all the swelling and battering you took – and then the couple times I came out later, seeing some of the wasting effects of the coma..." Jimmy shook his head as the images played back in his thoughts. "It was way different, accepting the medical realities when it involved a friend. And then when you beat the odds..." He watched for a reaction, wondering if Tony really could understand. "I was – afraid, I guess, to come see you after you woke up, to talk to you, knowing that nearly everything was on its way back to normal for you with one, glaring exception, and that somehow you couldn't be the same again, and with all the medical miracles they have these days and no matter the fact that you're a medical miracle yourself, having survived at all – I felt as if I was letting you down, when the medical science I was studying had nothing else to offer you. And I know it just makes matters worse, but I still just couldn't find a way to face you. And that's ..." He shook his head. "It's unforgivable."

DiNozzo had listened silently, his expression thoughtful as he heard Palmer's confession. No matter how it might have made him feel, apparently Palmer had been feeling even worse, when he shouldn't have. At Jimmy's final words he shifted almost uncomfortably to murmur, "no, look, it's just the weirdness of it all. I wasn't supposed to get whacked by a flying car engine and then wasn't supposed to wake up ... you're not the only one who's feeling a little awkward around me now..."

"But I'm the only one who's close to you who is ... and the only one with medical training other than Dr. Mallard. I should be one of the first to just take it all in stride."

"Jimmy, it wouldn't be you if the first time didn't have an effect." DiNozzo tipped his head and showed him a prototypical DiNozzo leer, meant to lighten the mood and, Jimmy knew, offer forgiveness for his transgression. "I'm honored to be your first."

Palmer saw no course of action other than to grin and nod, just what Tony wanted him to do. "Thanks, Tony," he breathed, as relieved as DiNozzo that the awkwardness had passed. "And ... your BP's 125/75 – a little high for you? Maybe you should have Dr. Mallard take it. I suspect I may have added a couple points with what I was saying..."

Tony grinned widely, knowing the answer before he asked. "Enough to throw off their study about what a great job they did on me? That would be fun, skew their study..."

"No, you're still at a very healthy level, but ... it's probably an outside effect and not a fair measure of your blood pressure."

"It's not like they're putting any other conditions on how it's taken. What about the temp? Normal?"

"98.7"

"Well, we DiNozzos are a little hot-blooded."

"A very little." Jimmy finally relaxed enough to smirk back at him. "Let me get your pulse and ... want me to try to find the questions?"

As the still-cool fingers wrapped surely around his wrist, Tony shrugged. "Up to you. I can come back, though."

Jimmy was silent for just another moment as he finished counting a few second more, then said, "well, it may not be as good as a list of questions, but from our conversation I think your mental acuity is what it always was. Maybe even better."

Tony's eyebrow went up as he slowly slid off the exam table and tried, "a good whack on the head to loosen up the parts that were stuck?"

"Maybe something like that."

DiNozzo nodded, seeming himself to be more comfortable with the air cleared between them. "Thanks, Palmer. I'll give Ducky a call later."

"You take coffee breaks from that job up in analysis now? I still have a inside source for that Jamaican Blue Mountain."

This time Tony's smile was just as wide, but warmer, and definitely pleased. "I suspect they can get along with me for a few minutes once in a while. Think Ducky will let you sneak off?"

"I think he'd approve. If you want to meet up later today I can bring those questions."

"Sold." Tony started to turn toward the exit doors, but hesitated, and turned back to the medical assistant with another, softer smile. "Thanks for telling me, Palmer." He then grinned wider and, typical DiNozzo, had to find a joke in there too. "It makes a big difference to know it was your hang up and not just me."

"How could you ever assume otherwise?" Jimmy teased back.

"True." Tony's grin spread even wider, hearing that Palmer would truly be okay with things now. He started off toward the doors, calling back over his shoulder when they swished open for him, "Gimme a call when you want to do that brain check."

"I will." Jimmy watched his friend head out to the elevator, and felt himself relax even further, a big, goofy smile on his face. He used to wonder at the fact that a guy like Tony DiNozzo would ever have come to him for advice and friendship. Growing up, guys like Tony were more likely to make fun of geeks and do everything they could to avoid the appearance of a connection with someone uncool – until they wanted help for their math or chem final. But Tony had just confirmed for him what he'd long suspected – that he wasn't one of those guys, no matter how hard he worked to make others think that of him. His job, his unfailing loyalty to those in this building – even his return to work – said more about the real DiNozzo than anything.

At the thought, Palmer darted over to the small desk at the end of the autopsy suite and jotted Dr. Mallard a note, in case he returned before Palmer did. He wrote that Tony stopped by, listed his vitals – and ended that he'd be back in fifteen minutes. He wanted to go get some of those Jamaican Blue Mountain beans, so he'd be able to make a fresh brew for this afternoon's coffee break...