DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS

Listening to a Friend

He'd talked to the dead for decades. The answers and secrets uncovered with deliberate and precise examination. Others had looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was eccentric, but he was one of the finest medical examiners to date.

He'd had difficult cases. It's never easy to lose a friend and delving into their murder is even more difficult. There was never the need to disassociate or step aside however. At all costs he was a consummate professional. In some ways he considered it both therapeutic and a final favor. When he talked to them he could hear their voices answer him.

Dealing with grief is often broken down into steps, but for him he knew all about death. Finding the answer was his way to gain acceptance. Even the senseless deaths, once solved, could be accepted.

Today, though he looked down upon his dearest friend, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He was afraid to ask any questions of this friend. Jethro's life was filled of unknowns. Some of his secrets had been revealed through the years, but never really discussed.

Jethro never talked about his first wife and daughter. Even after everyone knew of their existence he never shared anything about his life with them. No questions were ever asked.

When everyone had learned about their murders and his role in their murders demise, there was no explanation. No one really wanted to hear the details. His team, his family, chose to believe there was justice involved, not a calculated cold-blooded murder. They yearned to give him the benefit of the doubt. Again, no questions were ever asked.

It was obvious the reason Jethro was laid out on his autopsy table today. The bullets had flown and found multiple targets on his body. For so many years he had seemed invincible, escaping the hands of death. Not today.

He had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, though he may have considered it the right time. It was nothing related to his beloved NCIS or even any of his team. Out for a run, which helped him not only keep himself in shape, but helped to clear his mind to think through some of the more complex cases, he met his fate.

The scene unfolded in front of him. A young man acting nervous, looking all around expecting trouble from every direction, while across the street another young man pulled out his automatic. Jethro yelled for the nervous man to get down while diving to cover him. The man survived, the shooter was apprehended and was currently in the hands of the leaderless MCRT.

Well, Tony would lead them, eventually, but for now they were equally mourning and equally incensed. That shooter would be lucky to ever breathe a day of freedom.

Dr. Donald Mallard, Ducky to all his friends, approached his now lifeless friend's body. His face held grim. He asked to be alone and his assistant, Jimmy gracefully honoured that request. Jimmy had looked upon 'the Boss' as a hero, how befitting that his end was a life saving selfless act.

"AH Jethro, I think of the times we shared here both trying to find the causes of death of so many fallen service men and women. Not in the line of duty, but at the hands of cowards, soulless beings or even at their own hands.

"I never thought I'd be here trying to get all the evidence to convict your murdered, my friend. I can't fault you for being whom you are, or even for keeping all your secrets. I can only tell you how much your friendship meant to me.

"Oh, I know you'd roll your eyes and walk away from my stories, but only because you'd listened to them countless times before or had shared in the experience first hand. Some perhaps you didn't have the time to listen to, but now you won't be going anywhere, heh?" Ducky allowed himself a brief smile.

He than began to prepare for his friend's autopsy. The tools all laid out, evidence jars ready to receive the bullets for Abby to match to the gun. She was steadfast about doing her part to bring his murderer to justice.

Gibbs had been her friend and mentor, not just her boss. He had his way to keep her on task to get the answers as quickly as possible, sometimes even faster.

Ducky looked down and asked the question he'd asked all of his patients, "What brings you here today?"

"Guess I was wrong that night, Duck," his friend looked at him and answered clearly.

Shocked the M.E. asked, "What night would that have been?"

"When I asked you to stay and share some bourbon with me."

Smiling, recalling that a night a month ago when he'd had to get up early, so turned down the offer so that he could drive home safely. "What were you wrong about exactly?" he asked not sure of his point.

Smirking Gibbs answered, "When I told you a few shots never killed anyone."

Ducky woke with a start, but laughed despite the premise of his sleep vision. He checked his clock on the bedside table and saw it as only after midnight. Not quite eager to return to sleep as yet, he got up to make a cup of decaf tea.

Knowing the habits of his friend, he decided to call him and put his mind to rest. The phone was answered before the first ring finished with a gruff, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Hello, Jethro. I hope this isn't a bad time, but I had the most vivid sleep encounter."

"You mean a dream, Duck," his friend was almost chuckling, but serious enough to wonder why it would provoke a late night call. "What was it about?"

"I'm afraid it was about you," Duck started.

"You dream of me and then have to call and tell me about it. Don't know if I want to know." Gibbs tried to make light of what he could tell was truly troubling his friend.

"Now listen. It was distressing to me, because I found you as a patient of mine."

Understanding Gibbs told him, "It's alright Duck. I'm fine. You can go back to sleep, now."

"I'd feel remiss if I didn't explain it all. Not that I'm a big believer of premonitions, but I'd rather be foolish than regret it later."

"Go on Duck, tell me about it," Gibbs sat on his work bench and took a sip from his coffee cup. He listened quietly while his friend told him all the circumstances behind his murder. Nodding at the finish, he thanked the good doctor and wished him better dreams.

"Good-night, Jethro," Ducky said hanging up his phone.

It had been a few weeks since the dream and the late night call. Gibbs was out for his run and noticed a nervous man looking all about. It played out in his mind as he noticed the other man across the street. Before any bullets could fly he pulled out his sig and yelled out "NCIS, drop the weapon".

The surprised shooter-to-be dropped his automatic and took off only to be stopped by a Metro cruiser happening by. The nervous man looked stunned and fell to the ground shaking. "How did you know he was going to shoot me?" he asked looking wide-eyed at Gibbs.

"A friend told me," Gibbs said bluntly.