In real life such a diagnosis would not be made as quickly, but I wanted to move the story on a bit, rather than spend chapters covering that bit.

All lines from the show are from series 5 episode 12, stakeout.

As she stood in the descending elevator, Jenny refused to meet Hector's gaze. She knew she had surprised her head of security by informing him that she was heading to Autopsy - after all it wasn't usually somewhere she went willingly - but she refused to justify her visit, and she knew he'd never ask, so the resulting journey was carried out in silence.

As they finally stepped out onto the silent floor, she turned to him. "I'd like you to wait out here," she told him quietly.

For a moment he simply stared at her, as though he were trying to work out what was going on. Finally though, he gave a sharp nod. "Of course Ma'am."

She made to step forward, and then stopped abruptly, turning to face him again. "I'd also like the knowledge that I made this visit to remain between us and Dr Mallard. I see no need to inform anyone else."

A flicker of concern flashed across his face before his expression settled back into his trained expression that gave away nothing. "If that's what you want," he replied. Jenny nodded quickly, and he then added, "I'll ensure that no-one interrupts your visit."

Jenny managed a small smile. "Thank you Hector, I'd appreciate that." With that said she spun on her heel and turned away. She swallowed nervously as the glass doors opened with their customary hiss, and stepped inside, silently hoping their would be no uncovered corpses present. There wasn't, and so she let out a small sigh of relief and only belatedly realised that Ducky was watching her from his desk. He gave her his usual warm smile, telling her almost teasingly, "If you're here about my requisition forms then I'm afraid you're far too early, I haven't even started them yet."

Despite the despair and panic that had seemed to overwhelm her over the past few hours, the statement managed to provoke a tiny laugh. She shook her head. "I somehow didn't think you would have."

Getting to his feet, Ducky walked closer to her, and clasped her hand warmly in his own for a brief second in greeting. "Well then, what can I help you with? You don't tend to often stray into my neck of the woods my dear, and the fact that you have makes me extremely curious."

For a moment, Jenny couldn't bring herself to speak, still struggling with what she'd been told the previous night, and the ramifications it held for her if it were to be proved true. She briefly wondered if maybe ignorance really was bliss, because in all honesty the truth didn't seem very freeing. Finally she cleared her throat, and deciding she needed to know, spoke, "I've not been feeling myself recently, and I was wondering if maybe you could shed some light on that problem for me."

Ducky's brow furrowed in concern, and waving her over to a chair, they both sat down. His hands fluttered nervously for a second, until he finally replied, "With everything that is going on right now, I would be most surprised if you didn't feel upset in some way."

Jenny shook her head, she'd expected this. "No," she protested lightly. "I haven't felt well for a month or so now. I've been tired, my muscles hurt and cramp all the time-"

"That could be the signs of exhaustion, you work yourself into the ground at times. You are allowed to rest you know," Ducky reminded her.

"If it's that then fine, but-" Jenny stopped abruptly, unsure of what to say next.

Sensing her struggle, he intercepted, "But you have a gut feeling."

"I suppose you could call it that," Jenny muttered.

His eyes ran over her, and he took in her pallor and the barely concealed worry in her eyes and nodded. "In that case I'll do a blood test, I'll get Abby to run it through and I should have it back by lunchtime."

"I'd prefer that this remained between us," Jenny told him.

"Of course," he assured her. "I'll tell her it's for a John Doe."

"Thank you, Ducky."

He patted her arm in a reassuring manner. "I'll come up and see you when I have the results, but try not to worry too much, it could easily be something minor, or even nothing at all."

Jenny managed a tight smile, although deep down she knew that ship had sailed.

"What are you doing?" Ziva asked McGee, watching as the younger Agent stare intently at his computer screen.

"Trying to find Petty Officer Murphy's supposed storage locker."

"Ah." Her eyes slid to where Tony was sitting in his chair, casually flicking through a magazine. "Why are you not helping him?" she asked impatiently.

He barely glanced up from his page. "Never send a real Agent to do a Probie's job, Zee-vah."

Making an exasperated sound of disgust, Ziva headed to her desk. Her eyes lighting up when they landed on the large sandwich sitting there. "Lunch! Finally!" She picked it up, eyeing it in delight. "I'm so hungry I could eat a cow."

"Horse," Tony corrected her automatically.

"Why would I eat a horse?" Ziva asked in bewilderment.

"Because that's the expression."

"Pft! That makes no sense," she scoffed. She grinned over at McGee. "Thank you for getting my lunch."

He finally looked up from his screen. "Wasn't me," he told her. "It was Tony." He nodded in the direction of the now grinning Agent.

Ziva's face fell, a veil of suspicion falling over her face. "What have you done to it?"

His face took on a extremely fake look of hurt. "You think I would do something to your food?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied immediately.

"You need to learn to trust, Ziva."

She stared at her sandwich, then at Dinozzo's grinning face and then back at her sandwich. She couldn't take the risk she decided. "I'm not eating it," she announced, making to throw it in the bin.

"Wait!" he yelled. Ziva paused, grinning at her triumph, and let him snatch it from her hands. Her smile slid from her face however when he leaned back in his chair, and took a massive bit.

"Mmmmm," he glanced up at her. "It's really, really good," he informed her through a mouthful. Swallowing, he grinned at her. "Like I said, you need to learn to trust."

Ziva's eyes narrowed at him. "You," she told him pointedly. "Will live to regret that."

"Uh huh, sure," he told her, his smug grin still firmly in place.

Sensing an imminent fight, McGee interrupted, "Any development on the Director's case?"

"Nope," Tony replied. "And there were no break-ins either. Looks like the extra security has scared him off."

"I don't think so," Ziva told them, sinking back into her seat. "Whoever this is has gotten past security both here and at her house on multiple occasions, if anything that should make him feel unbeatable, make him take more risks."

"Well it hasn't," Tony shrugged casually. "This guy obviously doesn't like to follow convention. Plus the necklace is still in Abby's lab."

"Any luck tracing it," McGee asked hopefully.

"No." Ziva shook her head. "Abby's expert was unable to find any record of it." She turned her attention back to Tony and added, "If anything we should be more careful, he knows how to break through our defences and this silence could mean he's planning something new, something big."

Making a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, Tony turned his attention back to his sandwich, muttering, "You need to learn to relax as well, this guy isn't as good as he thinks he is."

"Then why haven't we caught him yet!" Gibbs barked from behind Tony.

Tony jumped in his seat, his sandwich falling to the desk.. He tilted his head up nervously. "Um, we will Boss. I was just saying that-"

"Well don't!" Gibbs growled harshly at him, and smacking the back of his head with added force, he stormed over to his own seat, dropping into it heavily. "Do you have anything on the case yet?" he asked impatiently.

"I'm still looking for the storage locker," McGee replied nervously.

Gibbs let out a mingled sigh of disgust and impatience, he glanced over at his two 'senior' Agents and snapped, "Well at least he's working, you two, go and find something to do!"

They both nodded quickly, and began rummaging around their desks and clicking at their computers. Shaking his head, Gibbs turned his attention to his own computer screen, only to find that he couldn't concentrate, and that all he could think about was Jenny. It wasn't just the kiss that had thrown him for a loop - although that was a big part of it - it was her reaction. She'd seemed so confused, and Jenny was never confused. She was always sure of herself, and even when she wasn't she didn't let it show. Something wasn't right, and he wasn't entirely convinced that it was just because of this lunatic that was following her.

His grip tightened on his pen, not noticing that he'd snapped it. When he eventually got his hands on the son of a bitch he was going to make him wish he'd never so much as set eyes on Jen. His thoughts were interrupted however by McGee's voice finally traversing through his thoughts. "Um, Boss?"

He looked up sharply. "What?"

"I found the locker."

Gibbs nodded, letting the two halves of his pen drop to his desk. "Grab your coats then," he told them as he got to his feet. As he shrugged on his own jacket however, he couldn't help but let his gaze stray over in the direction of Jenny's office, and in a moment of honesty he finally admitted to himself that last night's kiss had gotten through a lot of his barriers, and brought feelings rushing to the surface again - feelings that given the circumstances probably weren't a good thing.

Ducky glanced up from his medical textbook as Palmer approached him from behind. "Are you ready, Dr Mallard?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever will be," Ducky replied, sighing. "We've put this bloody business off long enough," he added as he got to his feet.

They both stared ahead. "They don't prepare for this in medical school," Palmer noted grimly.

Ducky sighed again. "Let's get it over with," he said as he moved towards the massive piles of paper sitting on one of the slabs. "Where shall we start?"

Snatching a sheet from the top of a pile, Palmer replied, "Latex gloves."

Scanning the aforementioned sheet, Ducky looked at in surprise. "Good Lord, do we really get through that many?" he asked.

Abby bounced up beside them, grinning. "Ah, requisition forms. I did mine last week," she announced proudly.

"Don't gloat," Ducky scolded her half-heartedly.

"Ok," she shrugged. "All business. I got the blood work you wanted on the John Doe. Um the white blood cell count was normal, but there was a high level of the enzyme creatine kinase."

Ducky simply stared at her for a second, letting out a loud exhale of breath. "Ah." He looked down at his watch. "I didn't realise how close to lunch it was." He took the sheet of paper from Abby's hands, heading towards the door he continued, "Let's put all that off until tomorrow Mr Palmer, when we're both fresh."

Palmer nodded, perplexed. "I guess one more day won't matter."

"Yes, well thank you Abigail. I'll see you later," he called over his shoulder to both of them.

Abby gave a small wave, and as the doors shut behind him, she turned to Palmer. "What's going on?"

Continuing to look bewildered, he replied, "I don't know."

"He asked me to run blood tests on a John Doe."

"Abby," Palmer shook his head in dismay. "We don't have any John Doe's."

"Come in," Jenny called out, hearing the knock at her door. Removing her reading glasses, she gave Ducky a small smile as he slipped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. The sombre expression on his face caused Jenny's smile to falter. "You've got the results," she stated.

He gave a small nod. "Yes, I have," he replied, hovering nervously at the front edge of her desk.

"It isn't good news then?" she asked sadly.

"Something did turn up in the results, yes."

"How bad is it?"

"Your results showed high levels of the enzyme creatine kinase, which leaks out of damaged muscle cells, unfortunately from blood tests alone it's impossible to know the cause."

Leaning back in her chair, Jenny asked, "What are the possibilities?"

"They are far too numerous for me to guess. Which is why I've arranged for you to see a friend of mine this afternoon. I called in a favour and he will carry out the tests today and hopefully be able to give you a diagnosis."

"I'll have Cynthia cancel my appointments." Jenny looked up at him and gave him a small yet genuine smile. "Thank you, Ducky."

"No need to thank me, my dear, I just want to see you well." His fingers tightened around the sheet of paper. "I'd be more than happy to accompany you."

Jenny shook her head. "It's nice of you to offer Ducky, but I'd rather go alone."

He nodded. "Well if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Abby twisted a solitary pigtail around her fingers nervously. She didn't like this, didn't like it one single bit. After returning to the lab she'd looked into the enzyme creatine kinase and it wasn't good. Some conditions that caused it were treatable, but-

She sighed, loudly. It was Ducky's reaction when she'd said it. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hold back the floods of tears she was likely to break down in soon. Everything was going so horribly recently, and for someone out of her family here to get sick, that would just be unbearable.

The doors to her lab opened, and she looked up, relaxing slightly when she saw it was Gibbs. The older man's face creased in concern when he saw her face. "What's wrong Abs?"

She debated about not telling him, but she knew that if Ducky was going to open up to someone it would be Gibbs, and she knew that Gibbs would want to know, want to help if Ducky really was ill. Swallowing nervously, she told him quietly, "Ducky asked me to run some blood work on a John Doe. It wasn't good, and when I told him he rushed off. When I asked Palmer about it, Palmer told me that there are no John Doe's in Autopsy just now. I think - I think the tests were his Gibbs. I think Ducky's sick."

Gibbs stared at her in shock for a moment, and then pulled the young Goth into a hug. Kissing the top of her head, he told her, "Try not to worry too much Abs, I'll go talk to him."

"Thank you," Abby whispered.

Sitting across from Dr Alan, Jenny couldn't help but flex her fingers nervously. It had been an exhaustive afternoon of test after test, and now she just wanted to know. She glanced quickly in the direction of the door, knowing that Hector was standing patiently outside, knowing that he'd have a million questions, but would never be nosy enough to actually ask, and for that she was immensely grateful.

Finally Dr Alan looked up from his file, his face grim. "Director Sheppard, I've looked over the results from all your tests and I'm afraid it isn't good news." He waited for a brief second before continuing. "I'm sorry to have to inform you that I believe you're suffering from Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or as it is sometimes more commonly known, Lou Gehrig's disease."

Jenny took in a shaky breath at that. "It's fatal, isn't it?"

He nodded sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid that it is."

"What's going to happen, I mean what sort of process does the disease follow?"

"You will progressively lose control of your muscles, first in your limbs and then progressing into your respiratory system. Once that happens you'll require ventilation support and you'll also require full time care."

"How long do I have?" Jenny asked, feeling bizarrely calm.

"It's impossible to give a definitive answer, although having looked at the medical exam you undertook only a few months ago, there was no sign of the disease, and yet you are already showing marked symptoms. From that I would say that your disease is progressing at an overly fast rate. Without treatment, maybe a year."

"And with it?"

"With a successful drug regime you could have up to five."

Jenny wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. He'd said five years as though it were an good thing. Five years of needing to rely on strangers to look after her, five years of becoming slowly trapped inside her own body. She looked at him, and hating the note of desperation in her own voice, asked, "And you're sure?"

"I have ruled out all other possibilities," he informed her sadly. "Although with such a diagnosis I would encourage you to seek a second opinion, in cases such as these I don't mind being proved wrong."

"I'll consider it," Jenny heard herself say.

"Good. In the meantime, I'll start you on a course of medication, that should hopefully slow down your symptoms."

"Fine." Jenny watched as he wrote out a prescription. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Could you send the test results to Dr Mallard, I'd like to have his opinion on this."

Dr Alan looked up. He eyed the woman sitting in front of him carefully. "Of course, although I'm sure that he too will urge you to get a second opinion from a specialist."

Taking the outstretched prescription, Jenny got to her feet, nodding numbly. Muttering a polite goodbye, she stepped out into the corridor only to find Hector watching her in concern. Straightening, and pulling herself together, she told him calmly, "I think it's time to go home now."

Ducky stared at the images on his light box, scouring them for any other possibility other than the one Jenny had been given, and kept coming up blank. He glanced away from them as the doors slid open and Palmer stepped inside. He quickly tugged them down. "Mr Palmer, I thought you'd gone for the night."

The younger man didn't even look up from rummaging around the desk as he replied, "I made it halfway home before I realised I'd left my cell phone here." He turned to look at Ducky. "What are you working on Dr Mallard?" He stepped forward. "Is it anything I can help you with?"

"No, no," Ducky assured him hurriedly. "It's an old case, just popped into mind, thought I'd check a few things."

"Oh." Palmer reached out to take the file. "I'll put it back in the file room for you then."

Pulling it away from the younger man's outstretched hand, Ducky replied, "No, no, no, no, no, I'll take care of it."

Giving a small shrug, Palmer went back to searching for his phone, although as he looked up, he was perturbed to see Ducky lock it in his desk drawer.

Keeping quiet over what he saw, Palmer located his phone, and straightened up. Wondering if he should say something, he cleared his throat, gaining the older man's attention just as the doors opened and Gibbs strolled in. Glancing over at Palmer, he told him, "Hey Palmer, isn't about time you went home?"

Glancing from one man to the other, Palmer gave a muttered agreement, and pushing his phone into his pocket, headed towards the door. Waiting until he was gone, Ducky shuffled nervously on his feet, and asked, "Something wrong?"

Gibbs took in a hiss of breath through tightly drawn lips. "Well, you tell me." He walked up to him, invading his personal space, continuing, "I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other."

"Ah, you're referring to the blood test I asked Abby to run on the non existent John Doe." He gave a wry chuckle, slipping out of Gibbs intense gaze by side stepping him. "I shouldn't be surprised I guess, she goes to you with everything."

Gibbs turned, keeping him in his line of sight, he replied, "She cares about you and she's worried."

"About me?" Ducky echoed.

"You're running the tests on yourself."

"No. I am not self diagnosing," he chuckled. "You know Abby allows her emotions to cloud her judgement, she's jumped to a conclusion. No, I'm in excellent health for a man of my age, and if she'd bothered to check further, she'd have realised it's not my blood type."

He turned in an attempt to walk away, but Gibbs refused to be dissuaded quite as easily as that. "Who?" he asked.

Ducky paused, turning to face him again. He let out a sad sigh. "You're putting me in a very difficult position, Jethro."

Gibbs walked towards him. "I can't think of anybody that you'd stick your neck out like that for." He looked at him thoughtfully. "Except Director Sheppard." Gibbs stared at him, looking for a sign that he was wrong, and not finding one. "Well," he pressed. "Jenny?"

Ducky stared at him almost sadly for a moment and then shook his head. "I cannot and will not discuss this Jethro."

Gibbs watched as Ducky turned away, his heart sinking.