Gibbs frowned at his phone. Abby had accidentally sent him a text asking if he knew how to set a string trap. Since it was something every military asset learned in training, he did. He just wasn't sure he should tell her how to set one in a modern setting. He eyed his phone for a moment then decided against it. He mumbled, "I do not want to know. Seriously. Explosives? Ipecac syrup? Who was stupid enough to piss her off that much?"

Tim answered that as Gibbs hadn't kept his voice down as much as he thought. "Symons. She's declared a prank war on him. She can get downright vicious if she feels like she's been insulted. And in this case, she has. Symons insists on calling her a tech ... and treating her like his very own. Not a happy bunny."

Gibbs just sighed. "We need to get back to DC soon. She'll just escalate until he either runs or goes nuts."

Tony frowned. "Well, he should act like he's got some sense."

Remy nodded. "He should do. You remember that jackwad from Annapolis that thought he was God's Gift?" He grinned in remembrance then frowned. "Wasn't so bad until he got that kid killed from being a dick. Then everyone in the unit pranked him until he went mental and got sent Stateside on a warrant."

Tony nodded. "He was even scared to take a shit. Latrine exploded on him on a regular basis. Gas buildup." His expression said it was anything but.

Gibbs sighed. "I just hope Abby doesn't mess him up." He then went back to what he was doing, putting worries about Abby aside for later.

.

Abby decided on one last flurry of pranks, then a rest of at least three days. She wondered what she should do; pranking his computer was getting old, and he was so gun-shy of doors, drawers, and file cabinets that he cringed every time he opened one. One of the senior IT techs had flatly told her that gluing keyboards wasn't on. So what to do?

She decided to check out his car. She knew which one it was, but could she hack it?

It turned out that she could, as he was driving one of those "green" electric things. And where did he think all that electricity came from? Coal-powered plants, that's where.

She fiddled the onboard computer to make it start only when the lights were on and the horn had been honked. She wondered if he'd figure it out, then decided to put the instructions into the onboard computer and have them show up on the data screen after the third try.

She also hid a stink bomb in the back, then moved his briefcase so that he could only reach it by opening the back hatch.

.

Dr. Symons opened his car door, after checking carefully for any wires, strings, or oddness. He settled in the driver's seat and tried to start the motor. Nothing happened, so he tried again. He was distracted from his cursing by a cheerful bleeping from the onboard computer mounted in the dashboard. He read the instructions, obediently turned the lights on, honked the horn, and tried again. He relaxed with a sigh as the motor obediently hummed to life.

The drive home frayed his nerves; no one seemed to realize that he was an important person, so he was forever dodging huge trucks, semis, and other non-entities. What he didn't realize, and didn't care about, was the fact that his habit of driving five miles an hour under the speed limit made him a moving road hazard. He was constantly in the wrong lane too.

He finally managed to get home to his Georgetown brownstone, pulled into his parking spot, and got out. He grumbled as he realized that his briefcase had somehow managed to wind up in the back. The stench that was released made him back up, slam the hatch and scurry inside, swearing all the way.

He was to find out that the smell lingered for days, no matter what he sprayed into the car. Nor how long he left the doors open in the parking garage.

He was beginning to think that people didn't like him much.

.

Dean eyed his phone with a rather disturbed expression. "That woman is a fiend. Seriously. She's ... evil."

She wanted to know the best way to put someone off guard. Her prank war was beginning to desensitize her target. He sent back a text to tell Abby to lay off for at least four days.

He then went back to reading files.

.

Ducky eyed the email with some concern. His contact in DCPD was livid. He stated that Symons had managed to alienate every district commander in the DC area and most of the MEs, MEs' assistants, Forensic Techs, and almost anyone else he'd come in contact with. It was a bit alarming that most of the LEOs in DC had refused to work with him.

He decided that he'd text Abby and Vance to find out how bad it actually was. He got a stream of invective from Vance and a plea from Abby to hurry home. He contemplated cutting his vacation short, then decided against it. The SecNav had forced that wanker on NCIS; he could just deal with the fallout. He did, however, feel a bit sorry for Vance; he hadn't had any say in the decision. He applauded the decision of the Pod to take off early. It meant that he'd get back home before they did.

He sighed, checked his schedule, and realized that he had to hurry or he'd be late to his next presentation, and that wouldn't do at all. It wasn't polite for the presenter to be late to his own presentation. He was a bit glad that this was his last one. After it, he was going on a bit of a ramble through Scotland. He'd decided against hiring a driver and car; he was going to buy a BritRail pass, which would be good all over the UK. He was looking very much forward to his trip.

.

Abby checked her office; nothing was out of place. She sighed. She'd had the sudden worry that she'd left a prank out in the open. She knew that Vance knew what she was doing, but official recognition would bring trouble. She didn't need problems with management, not that she was worried, but still. She settled at her desk to check emails and do several job-related searches.

It was nearly two hours later that her lab door banged against the wall and Symons stormed in. She eyed him for a moment, hand hovering over the panic button on her desk. But, it seemed, he only needed some place to unload in.

He paced back and forth in between the lab table and the bank of computers, grumbling to himself.

"This is unacceptable. Totally unacceptable. These people are, without a doubt, the most ... annoying bunch of retarded wastes of skin in the world. They don't know who they're dealing with. I'll have their jobs. I'll black list them all over. They'll be flipping burgers in Bumfuck Egypt after I'm done with them." He stalked to the door of Abby's office and demanded, "And you ... you get back to work before I tell Vance." He nodded his head once, as if he had accomplished something, then stormed back to the door. "And get your tests done on time." With that, he was out the door, leaving Abby open mouthed and baffled.

"What the actual fuck? That man is a menace to mental health and emotional stability. And I'm gonna prank the fuck out of him." Abby banged around a bit, looking for she wasn't sure what.

She was distracted from her fuming by her lab door opening again. This time it was one of the Evidence clerks. She was bringing Abby a container full of things to test. She also looked like she wasn't really happy.

"Abby, that ... that ... man. I swear if I wasn't a lady I'd ... kick him somewhere soft." She put the tote down on Abby's work table and sighed. "I wish Dr. Mallard would get back soon."

"Symons again?" The clerk nodded. "I am so totally tired of that man. If he was to catch on fire, I wouldn't spit on him. What'd he do?"

"Just came in, demanded someone to come take a bunch of samples to the other lab, then told us we were all idiots and when he's ME, he'll have our jobs. If I wasn't a lady, I'd swear."

"You already did." Abby waited for the woman to make the connection.

"I ... oh, you." She grinned, swatted Abby on the arm and left, giggling.

Abby dipped into the tote and began another series of tests while she planned the next round of pranks. Perhaps something with itching powder.

.

Dr. Symons glared around the Morgue. He knew he was responsible for getting all the bio-waste into the bags and up to the incinerator, but he didn't see why he had to do it. It wasn't a proper job for a Medical Examiner; that was a job for some peon. He considered demanding that Housekeeping do it. He wondered why he didn't have an assistant. He never realized that his attitude had run Jimmy off, and every other person who could have filled the job. No one wanted to put up with his self-entitled, arrogant attitude and total lack of respect for anyone who wasn't him.

He grumbled, contacted Director Vance's secretary, and demanded someone to come down and clean the Morgue. He had three bodies on the way and needed some sort of help.

He got put on hold for thirty minutes while Cynthia consulted with Director Vance. They decided to send the bodies to DCPD as Vance was actually afraid that any evidence collected by Symons would be corrupted and suspect. He didn't want to lose a case because Symons screwed it up.

Cynthia suggested that Vance get hold of Dr. Palmer and beg him to come back. She thought that just putting Symons on temporary suspension while his creds were rechecked would do the trick.

Vance thought about it, then said, "I wonder where they are. Their vacation is nearly over. McGee is healing well, and they're investigating the assault in cooperation with the local LEOs. I'll send Gibbs and Palmer a text." He frowned at his mangled toothpick. "I'll even grovel ... within reason."

.

Dr. James Palmer eyed the text on his phone with a very jaundiced eye. They'd stopped for the night in some Podunk town in, he eyed the room, he wasn't even sure what state. Tim was doing the navigating, and everyone else just followed his directions.

He heard Gibbs swearing in the common room of their suite and realized that he'd gotten the same text.

"Jet! Can it. What do you want to do?" Jimmy waited while Gibbs thought.

"Vance can deal. We could be back in DC in about twelve hours, if we rode hard and didn't stop. But ... he knuckled in to SecNav, and I'm not fishin' his chestnuts out of the fire. He wants to suck up, he can just suffer when he gets a mouthful of shit. We'll get back when we get there." Gibbs wasn't happy about pushing too hard; McGee was looking tired, and they didn't need him having a relapse or something.

Now that the case was over, they were going to take it easy on the way back home.

So they dumped the whole mess in Tim's electronic lap and let him deal; which he did by sending Vance an email detailing all the reasons that they would be at least three days on the road and to expect them back in four.

Leon Vance eyed the email with disgust, but didn't do anything; they were actually saying that they'd be back two days early. They'd taken three weeks, spent two of them, and were taking five days to return. No matter how he did the math, there was no way they could make it back any faster, without doing things that they shouldn't.

.

Abby grinned at Hank. She'd run into him in the break room, where she'd gone in search of something sweet. "Gimme. I gave you my dollar; share." She'd given him her dollar when they'd realized that neither one of them had enough by themselves to get anything; the company had doubled the prices on everything without notice.

Hank chuckled and broke the candy bar exactly in half. He handed her her piece, took a bite of his, then mumbled around the caramel, "You hear about Psycho Symons' latest?"

"No! Tell!" Abby nibbled on her candy, hoping to make it last just a bit longer.

"He flipped his shit. Vance sent three bodies to DCPD because the Morgue is in such filthy condition that he was afraid the evidence would be compromised. He even called Dr. Palmer to see if he could get back early. Symons found out and threw a tantrum. If my kid acted like that I'd blister her. Thank God she's a good kid. No trouble to speak of. But ... she's only eight. Can't wait until she's in her teens." His expression said exactly the opposite.

Abby went "Aw!" over the picture he showed, then shrugged. "His parents must have had a time with him ... or not. Maybe he's the way he is because his parents neglected him. Or he's just a dyed-in-the-wool jerk."

"I'm in favor of the second. But ... got to go. I've got escort duty, and Vance is on the move in ten. See you." Hank finished the last bite of his candy, grabbed his filled go-cup, and trotted out the door.

Abby sighed. "I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. But ... I will."

She set about her mission with a frown. She was just tired of the idiot and wanted him gone. She was the nicest person… until she wasn't. NCIS cringed at the words, "Abby's pissed." She was actually the person who could kill you, get rid of your body and leave no forensic evidence. She could also prank the hell out of you and never get caught.

Vance had suspicions, of course, but he couldn't prove anything… not that he wanted to.

.

The next three days saw Symons ready to tear his expensive plugs out by the roots.

The first thing that happened was so weird. The private head behind his office exploded when he flushed, giving him a faceful of what was politely referred to as "grey water." He'd used the biohazard shower to clean up, then found that it had unexpectedly dyed him blue. He realized that he now looked like a Smurf. And, as usual, the scrubs were the wrong size. This time, they were way too large. He'd rolled the legs up three times and the waistband down twice and they still dragged the floor. He'd mumbled that they'd have swamped a Wookiee.

Abby snickered in her office; Dean had carefully explained exactly how to inject compressed air into the pipe so that she wouldn't damage the pipes or hurt herself. The air had happily stayed in the pipe until the change in pressure caused by flushing had forced it back out. Getting the dye into the shower had been easy; all she'd had to do was unscrew the head, dump in the dye, and put it back on.

After he got dried off and calmed down, he decided to start cleaning the morgue. Vance had been clear that the Biohazard Team were not Housekeeping, and Housekeeping didn't deal with that sort of mess. They'd come in and mop the floors and wipe down the walls after he dealt with the pile of disposable masks, dropped gloves, and other soiled disposable waste.

He found a cleaning cart conveniently placed in the morgue so he donned a pair of yellow gloves and started picking up mess and stuffing it into the also-provided black plastic bags.

He spent nearly three hours bagging up his mess, bitching all the way. He was firmly of the opinion that no one of his status should have to lift a finger to clean anything, anytime, anywhere. Never mind that Ducky and Jimmy cleaned the Morgue themselves so that Housekeeping didn't have to see the bodies and organs.

Abby overheard and wondered what his house looked like, then decided that he had a gardener and a cleaning service, and ate out. She shook her head and went back to scheming. She wondered if she should feel bad about her resolution to drive Symons out of NCIS, but finding one of the secretarial-pool girls crying in the ladies' room because Symons had bitched her out, firmed her resolve.

She comforted the girl and suggested that she tell all her friends to refuse to work with him because he was a sexist pig. And, since this was actually true and against NCIS regulations, report him to Human Resources.

.

The Secretary of The Navy eyed his wife with a bit of disfavor. She smiled serenely back. "Something wrong?"

"Your cousin, or whatever he is, Symons, is causing a lot of trouble at NCIS. Leon Vance has called four times. Otto ..." he waved a hand, "or whatever his name is, isn't going to make it. He's alienated everyone he works with. Someone has declared a prank war on him. If he fails his ninety, he's out, and not a thing I can do about it. And, since he's managed to piss off most of DCPD, he won't." He eyed his wife carefully.

"Well, I didn't have much hope. I've heard things ... you know how political wives gossip ... but I did want to give him a chance. His mother introduced us, after all. But, if he doesn't make it, he doesn't. Don't worry about it." She pushed a plate of pastries in his direction. "Have a danish, dear."

SecNav sighed to himself; this had gone a great deal better than he'd expected. "Thank you." He resolved to forget what's-his-name.

.

Dr. Symons was convinced that someone was trying to drive him crazy, kill him, or discredit him, and he wasn't sure which was worse. He knew he was on thin ice in the whole community, but he wasn't sure why. This prank war was driving him to the edge of sanity, and he didn't know how to combat the infantile pranks. None of them had been dangerous, just startling and annoying. Since he had no sense of humor at all, he couldn't imagine laughing, shrugging it off, and making amends.

He pulled a drawer open and nearly screamed as a Can-o-Worms popped open in his face. The worms were made of springs and cloth, so they weren't dangerous, but they scared the shit out of him and gave him the shakes, again.

He called security and was told that, as they weren't live, and therefore dangerous, it wasn't their responsibility to deal with them. Housekeeping said that they didn't clean up that sort of thing, so he should just bag them.

He went to the supply closet to get a bag and did scream as a talcum powder bomb exploded when he opened the door and covered him with aggressively rose-scented powder. He slapped as much as he could out of his clothing, then grabbed the device and a bag. He bagged up the evidence then tossed the whole thing into the incinerator and returned to try to sweep up the powder, smearing it all over the floors instead.

He retreated to his office, cursed when he realized that he still didn't have the coffee pot he'd requisitioned, and flopped down in his chair… which promptly wheezed and settled at its lowest setting. He decided that his best option was to storm into Vance's office and have a screaming fit at Cynthia. She eyed him while he ranted and raved. She decided that he wasn't going to try to hit her, so she just nodded once in a while and let him have his tantrum.

Director Vance stormed out of his office and bellowed, "Shut the fuck up, you dumbass!" He calmed down a bit, took a deep breath and continued, "I don't know how you were allowed to behave in Chicago but here, you don't act like a three-year-old who needs a nap. You're getting another writeup. Cynthia? See to it please." He turned back to Symons and snarled, "Get the fuck out of my office, and don't come back. If I hadn't promised the SecNav you'd have ninety days, I'd kick you out now. And give you a general GOMAR. You're a real WOMBAT if not a total BDU. Now get the fuck out of my office." He took a deep breath then added, "And leave the women alone. I've got six complaints of sexual harassment against you."

Symons had no idea what a WOMBAT was, or a BDU, so he asked Cynthia. She was happy to inform him that he was a waste of money, brains and time and a brain-dead user, as well as a sexist waste of space. She also told him flatly to FOADIAF, pronouncing it fo-add-eye-af. He left.

.

Vance gave up. He called Ducky.

"Dr. Mallard. I hope ... I forgot to check the time difference. Damn it." He sighed and waited.

"That is perfectly all right. It's 1900 here. Dinner time. What can I do for you?" Ducky had a good idea what, but Vance was going to have to ask.

"Could you please come home? That nutjob Symons has everything CATFU. DCPD ... don't even ask. Just come home. Okay?" Vance knew he was pleading and didn't care.

Ducky sighed. He had thought to spend another week, but, if Vance was using that tone of voice, he'd go. "Very well. I'll leave first thing in the morning; it'll take that long to make connections."

"Thank you. You won't regret this." Vance wasn't even going to worry about how Ducky was going to handle Symons. He could shoot him for all he cared.

Ducky, for his part, had realized that he'd seen and done everything he really wanted to do and see. He was contemplating another eight days of vacation with a decidedly unhappy attitude. He called the front desk and told them to make his arrangements, then began to pack.

He made arrangements to have his luggage picked up and checked through for him. He kept his carry-on and briefcase to carry himself; finally he left a message at the concierge's desk to wake him up at 0700 so he could have a last fry-up before boarding his plane for home.

.

Director Vance put off calling Gibbs until late afternoon. He wasn't going to be pleased about all this, but needs must.

"Gibbs. Vance here. You need to get back to DC ASAP; Abby's declared a prank war on Symons. I can't prove it but ... she's the only one I know who could manage all this without leaving behind some evidence. It's gotten so bad that everyone's afraid to open a drawer, door, or cupboard in the morgue. Things keep exploding. Hurry, before I have to take official notice."

Jet eyed the phone with disgust. "We gotta hump it. Abby's on the warpath. Vance wants us back before he has to do something."

Dean gave him a wide-eyed look. "Oh. My. God. Abby asked me how to gas a head. I thought ..." Gibbs whacked him in the head. "Seriously, I ... well, I really didn't think much of it. She's always calling one of us with some sort of odd question. We just answer and get back to work."

Remy frowned. "Symons ask fo' it. He got it. No sympathy." He shrugged and grabbed his stuff. "We gon' or not?"

It was nearly 1900 so they got on the highway and put the hammer down. They'd done a good PT and had an early lunch, then a leisurely run to the next stop and a late supper. They'd been looking for a place for the night, now they were going to ride until it was too dark to be safe, get up early, scarf down something fast and greasy, then ride until they hit DC, if they even stopped at all. They were going to compress a two-day leisurely run with lots of stops and sight-seeing into six hours or less. No one was happy, but if Abby was getting in trouble, they'd do it.

.

Tony, Jimmy, and Gibbs all sent Abby a text telling her to lay off, she was about to get busted. Tim warned her too. Dean, Cosmo, and Remy just worried and hurried.

Gibbs turned into a DI, barking at them to get up at 0500. They scrambled around bitching and moaning. Showers, dressing, and eating were accomplished in record time. Gibbs went out and hit McDonalds, even settling for their coffee. He brought back bags of food, then showered, yelling from the shower, "You better leave enough for me ... and lots of coffee." This caused the next door neighbor to pound on the wall and call the front desk.

They were gone in a roar of exhaust fumes and tire smoke before the desk could react.

.

Abby emailed Tim. His reply was simple. "Knock it off. We're coming home." Abby sighed. She thought maybe she'd gone a bit overboard, and she was upset that her friends had to cut their vacation short, although she was happy she would get to see Tim sooner. His bloodied and cut clothing had upset her. It had taken her all of two minutes to settle to take her samples and do her job.

Her return email said simply, "Okay. Knocked off. Hurry, but be careful." It was a bit hard to type with her fingers crossed.

She then hacked Tim's cell and connected to his GPS so she'd know where they were. Just in case.

.

The Pod roared down the highway, stopping only when someone had to take a piss or they needed gas. When they were pushing hard, they didn't stop for long; they did a run-through of Wendy's, McDonalds, or Taco Bell when they got hungry, so two pit stops and a Taco Bell later they stopped in a truck stop for gas and a quick consultation.

Gibbs opined that, since it was only 1100, they should head straight for NCIS; Tony took a quick vote and agreed.

When they roared up to the check point, the Marine who was on duty eyed them doubtfully. Gibbs produced ID, as did everyone else. The guard checked it against his handheld, then motioned them in with a grimace. He was just really glad he didn't have to deal; they all looked grimy and pissed. The not-so-genial swearing even made him blush a bit.

They gathered in the parking garage, and Gibbs issued orders. "Palmer, head to the fuckin' morgue and see what the hell is going on there. Take Dean and Cos with. Tim, you and I are headed for Vance. Remy, AJ, find Abby. Go, damn it."

They split up, heading for their assignments.

.

Leon Vance threw his pen down the second he realized that the Pod was back on the Yard. This was either going to be very good, or very, very bad; he just wasn't sure which yet. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Gibbs and McGee stormed into his office.

He took a deep breath then said, "Gentlemen."

Gibbs just eyed him for a moment, then said with considerable mildness, "What the fuck is going on? What did you let that damn REMF pull that put Abby on the fuckin' warpath?"

"I didn't let him pull anything. In fact, I expressly warned him about pissing off any of the forensic team. He didn't listen. I've refrained from interfering, due to a total lack of fucks to give. His situation is his own fault, and I've given him a total of ..." he paused to consult a paper, "twenty-five GOMARS. He's a total ASVAB waiver and a waste of skin. I really wouldn't care all that much if he was DOG, except for the black mark it would give NCIS. So. Get the fuck out of my office and deal."

Gibbs smirked and did a perfect about face. He stalked to the door then remarked, "Just be glad you didn't write Abby up." He opened the door, ushered Tim out, then shut it with commendable gentleness.

Vance rumbled, "And I wonder why that isn't at all reassuring," then returned to his interminable paperwork.

.

Tony was happy to see Abby sneaking out of the morgue. He eased up behind her, grabbed her around the waist, and hissed, "Do not kick me in the damn jewels," then hauled her onto the elevator, which Remy had helpfully held for them.

Abby elbowed Tony in the gut just hard enough to let him know that she'd have hurt anyone else. "Let go, jerk."

Tony did, and Abby eeled around in his loose grip to hug him. "I'm so glad to see you back. I swear. Really. That man. What a ... I'm not sure what, but I want him gone ... like now."

Tony nodded, translating Abby babble into comprehensible English with the ease of long-term practice. "Okay. So ... what did Slime-ons do? Just a general explanation."

So, while the elevator took them up one level to Abby's lab, Abby explained that Symons was a misogynistic jerk with illusions of competence and a total waste of air, besides being a butcher and a hack who wouldn't know cirrhosis of the liver from swiss cheese.

They were getting ready to get off, but Gibbs and Tim joined them. Gibbs just punched the button and said, "Morgue."

Abby whimpered, then started twisting her hands together, something she always did when she was sure Gibbs was going to get mad.

Gibbs just eyed her, hit the stop button and demanded, "Okay, Abs, what the hell did you do now?"

Abby frowned for a moment then admitted, "Well, there might be a tiny bit of C-4 in one of the empty drawers. One I'm sure he's going to use for something he shouldn't."

"What, exactly?" Gibbs frowned.

"He puts his lunch in one. He's been bringing his lunch ever since he stole someone's and it ... gave him the GI's and Montezuma's Revenge." Abby dimpled happily at that memory. "But ... he shouldn't steal other people's food."

Gibbs eyed her for a second, then started to laugh. Tim, Remy and AJ joined him, with Abby right behind them.

He slapped the button to re-start the elevator. "Okay. Morgue. And Abby, find the right damn drawer and disarm your trap."

Abby shrugged. "Can't. It's wired to the door with a spring. That'll shorten the pull cord so that it's impossible to open the door enough. But it's just a tiny bomb."

Tony sighed. "Abby." He drew her name out into a near whine.

"No, really." She held her hand up, fingers barely apart. "About that much. I actually had to stick it to the detonator, instead of sticking the det into it."

Dean winced. "Miss Abby. The thing is ... the det is an explosive in its own right."

Abby cringed. "Oops."

The elevator door opened just in time for them all to jump at the loud bang from the Morgue proper. This was followed by a shriek of terror, then laughter.

Gibbs recognized Jimmy, Dean, and Cos's voices as the laughers; he assumed that the screamer was Symons. The laughter was soon interspersed with swearing as Symons called whoever set the trap several non-specific rude names. Gibbs stalked into the morgue and snarled, "Shut the fuck up."

Symons turned to him, jaw dropped, and started to complain. Gibbs told him to shut up again, and, after getting a good look at Gibbs' face, he did.

Gibbs eyed the mess the booby trap had made. "Clean up that mess. Now!" Gibbs' bark made Symons jump. "And any other mess you've made. Move it!"

Symons turned to Jimmy and ordered, "You heard the man, get to it."

Jimmy just shrugged. "I'm not a damn morgue assistant. I'm an ME in my own damn right and I should have taken over here. And I would have. Except you had to butt in and fuck things up. So ... you broke it, you fix it. And don't come crawling to me when Ducky sees this." He waved a hand. "I'm goin' for coffee. I'll be back when that fuckin' jackwad is gone." He headed for the door but Symons grabbed his arm and gave it a jerk.

This turned out to be the proverbial last straw. Jimmy turned on Symons and snarled, "If you fuckin' touch me again, you douche, I will break every finger on both hands ... twice. You have gotten on my last nerve. The Morgue looks like a trash dump, and Ducky's office ..." his jaw worked for a moment then he snarled, "Fix it," and stormed out the door.

Gibbs jerked his head at Dean. "You and Cos follow him. Make sure he doesn't do some idiot a mischief." They scurried to obey.

Dean caught him first, "Dude, lighten up. You smack him, you'll have all sorts of trouble."

Jimmy nodded. "I know. That's why I took off. The need to punch that thunder cunt ... seriously. I'm just a tad territorial about the morgue and our offices. That ... walking waste of air just shit all over it all and I'm just supposed to take a deep breath, say 'That's okay,' and move on?"

"Nope. Just not supposed to bust your knuckles on someone who won't learn anything from it. There's a sort of person that's so damn stupid that, no matter how much they need an ass-reaming, they're too stupid to learn anything from it. Waste of valuable resources." Cos patted Jimmy on the shoulder.

Jimmy nodded. "Exactly. But the urge to just fuckin' shoot him is there."

Dean just nodded wisely and kept his mouth shut. Jimmy was pissed enough without him over-running his mouth.

Jimmy glanced up at a familiar voice.

Ducky smiled at his friend and assistant. "Well, well. It seems there's a disturbance in the kingdom. What has you in a lather, my young colleague?"

Jimmy opened his mouth, closed it, then announced, "Symons is a dickwad."

Ducky blinked for a moment then said, "I see. Director Vance nearly begged me to return early, so I assumed that he was causing problems." He punched the elevator button then turned to continue, "Well, shall we go see what sort of mess he's made?"

Jimmy muttered, "Fuckin' huge mess. A pile-of-shit sundae with crap topping and fucked-up sauce."

Ducky blinked for a moment, then just patted Jimmy on the shoulder. "Come along, dear boy." Ducky led the way into the morgue and looked around. "Oh, dear."

Symons had thrown another of his hissy fits, as Abby called them, and thrown all the clean instruments onto the floor. He'd also tossed files around and tipped over Jimmy's chair.

Gibbs, Tony, Tim, and Remy were just watching him create havoc, knowing that Vance would order him to clean it up himself. What they didn't know was, Vance was just waiting for a reason to have the man escorted from the building. Symons was giving him the reason he needed.

Ducky eyed the mess, then announced, "Neither James nor I are cleaning that mess up. I'd suggest that someone..." he glowered at Symons. "get to cleaning right now. I'm going up to speak to Director Vance, and this mess had better be gone when I get back." He eyed the Pod. "And none of you are to help him."

Dean blinked for a moment, then stepped back, holding up his hands in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it, Dr. Mallard."

Everyone else made sounds of agreement. Symons sneered.

They all watched Ducky leave, then Cos offered, "He's pissed. Seriously pissed."

Everyone ranged themselves around the morgue, leaning against this and that, arms crossed over their chests. They just watched without comment as Symons wasted his chance. They didn't bother to tell him that his loud complaints about their attitude wasn't doing anything but wasting his breath.

Remy did offer, "Better ought a' save yo' damn breath ta cool yo' gumbo," which got him a dirty look and a sneer. Remy shrugged, then shout-whispered to Tony. "AJ, we gon' go? O' we stayin' ta see the fun?"

Tony thought for a moment then said, "We all ought to stay. Give Ducky a bit a' moral support. And a hand frog-marchin' that fuckin' asshat out the damn door."

.

Ducky walked into Vance's office with a scowl on his face. Vance held up one hand and said, "What's he done now?" The look on Ducky's face told Vance that it wasn't good.

Ducky just told the Director exactly what Symons had done, not done, and who he'd annoyed, pissed off, or made homicidal. When he was done, he crossed his arms over his chest and snarled, "And I want that ruddy git out of my lab, now. I want that wanker out of NCIS and off the Yard before I do him a mischief that he won't soon recover from." He eyed Vance for a moment before adding, "And, Leon, you might have cause to remember that I was in the field while you were still grass."

Leon Vance wasn't a foolish man and had read Ducky's un-redacted file, so he just punched a button on his phone and said, "Cynthia, please get word to security that they'll be needed in the Morgue. Symons is on his way out."

Ducky just nodded firmly and said, "Indeed he is." He marched out the door, back ramrod straight. He went to the elevator and punched the button. Unfortunately, he punched it hard enough that it jammed. He eyed it for a moment, grumbled, "Bloody hell! Cheap piece of shite," and took the stairs.

As he approached the morgue doors, Ducky heard Gibbs saying, "Well, you know the old saying: 'You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink.' In this case, you can tell a fool he's a fool, but you can't make him listen."

Ducky slapped the door button and waited while they hissed open. He stalked into the morgue and announced, "I see that the mess is still here. In that case ... AJ ... Remy, please see Symons out of the building. Don't be gentle either. Jimmy, you and I shall clean. If anyone else would be so kind as to volunteer, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Jimmy, being closest to Symons and not in that good a mood, grabbed him by one arm. Symons, being that sort of nutjob, slapped him. Jimmy shrugged and slugged him, knocking him flat on his ass. He glanced around at the group then said, with commendable mildness, "Remy ... AJ ... Would you please take that out? He's contaminating my morgue."

Ducky agreed with that sentiment. "Yes, please do." He turned to Jimmy and said, "Well, done, Dr. Palmer, well done. A wisty-caster indeed."

Two security guards arrived just then, trotting in the door just in time to see Symons stand up, hand pressed to his stinging cheek.

He pointed to Jimmy and demanded, "He struck me. Arrest him."

Jimmy snorted. "Okay, I'd like ..."

Gibbs walked all over that one. "Palmer, stick a sock in it. You ..." he eyed the guards. "Help AJ and Remy get that piece of shit out of here. Toss him out the side door."

Abby, who'd stayed quiet and out of the way, now cheered happily, bouncing up and down on her four-inch-platform Mary Janes. "Yay! Way t' go, Jimmy! AJ! Remy! Gogogo!"

It didn't take all four men, two security guards, AJ, and Remy, to get Symons out the door. One of the guards grabbed him by one arm while Remy got the other. Symons swore at them and struggled, but a quick move by the guard had him in an armlock and on the way out the door. Tony's cheerful announcement of, "We'll just take him out the evidence garage door, it's the closest. Okay?" was greeted by swearing from Symons. You actually couldn't blame him, or maybe you could, as the location of the parking garage meant that he was going to have to walk all the way around to the other side of the building, outside, enter NCIS, get a clearance and an escort, then make his way to the underground garage, get his car, then get back through security.

Dean spoke to one of the check-point guards then grinned around, "Wonder if he knows how to put his interior back together."

Cos shrugged. "Probably not."

.

After being put out the small sally port in the main garage door, to much cheering on the part of everyone there, Dr. Symons walked. He wasn't pleased by his impromptu hike, as he was wearing shoes more suited to a cocktail party than a three-block hike. When he finally got to the front check-in, he was told that he had to get clearance to enter from Vance himself.

This took nearly an hour while he paced, swore at the guards, and in general made an ass of himself. When he was finally given permission to enter, he still had to wait another twenty minutes until they could find someone willing to escort him to his car.

The man who agreed was a no-nonsense, older man with an aggressive attitude and a fresh high-and-tight. He eyed Symons for a moment, then barked, "I'm not takin' any shit from you. You go where you're damn well supposed to, and that's it. No fuckin' side trips. If you gotta take a piss, hold it. Move out."

Symons started to whine, but Officer Jones was not in the mood. "Did I ask for a stupid comment? No. Do I want one? No. If I want your damn opinion on anything, I will beat it out of you. With your right arm. We clear?" Symons nodded, looking like he was about to piss himself. He was finally getting a clue. "Now, you need to get your car and get the fuck off my Yard soonest. Clear?" Symons nodded again and followed Officer Jones away.

He got his car and drove to the exit check point. He fumed quietly as the three-woman crew dismantled his seats, center console, and trunk. They spent some of the search making comments on his ass, his hair, his suit, and his musculature. He wasn't pleased, but he was beginning to realize that his attitude had brought about this treatment. He probably would never realize why his behavior made people mad, but he was beginning to realize that it did. Not that it was going to do him any good at this late date. He finally got his car back together and left the Navy Yard, never to return.

.

Ducky looked into his office, then turned and said, "That's not my desk, nor my chair. What the bloody hell is going on here?" He sighed, "I leave for two weeks, to present, and everything goes to hell. Really?"

Dean patted him on the shoulder. "Why don't you have a nice cup of tea while we get things back to normal."

Jimmy chuckled, "As if anything around here is ever what anyone would call normal. But ..." he eyed his desk. "I'll start with my desk..." he shoved it back into place. "Which is supposed to be here. And where's ..."

Abby interrupted him. "I've got all your stuff stashed in the evidence garage. When Housekeeping got pissed, they pulled all your furniture. I got them to put it in a locked bay so you could get it back. Glad I did too. Symons ... he's ... jerk." She fizzled for a moment more then called someone in the garage. She babbled at them for a moment then hung up. "Your stuff will be back in ten minutes," she smiled happily. "Everything's going to be back to normal."

And it was. Housekeeping brought back what they'd taken; Evidence returned what Abby had asked them to store. Abby returned the tea kettle and coffee maker. It only took about half an hour to be back to normal.

Ducky settled at his desk with a cup of Earl Grey and a sigh. "I know my filing system was a bit ... old-fashioned. So ... where are all my files?"

Tony chuckled softly. "Ducky, your filing system was ASWD so all your files are filed. Ask Yvonne in Files for anything you really need. It's all easy to find ... for her. Sorry about messing up your system, but Slime-on would probably have shredded everything just for spite. We didn't want to take the chance. So ... filed in Files ... um ... where most of it should have been long ago."

Ducky just nodded. "Oh, I agree. But, you see, I had a bit of a disagreement with Mrs. Lonnergan ... oh ... years ago. She was a most impossible woman, so I either filed things myself or just stacked them in here. I'll admit that it's a bit of a relief to have all that out of my office." He took a sip of his tea. "Now to keep it this way."

Jimmy blinked at Ducky for a moment then said, "But ... But ... if you'd just said, I'd have taken care of it all. Only ... you never ... so I thought ... well, far be it from me to ... to ... presume above my station ... so to speak. Not that ... well... Um..." he sighed. "Shutting up now."

Gibbs rubbed his face with one hand. "Duck ... you do know that Lonnergan retired ... six years ago?"

Ducky looked up from his tea. "No. Really? Extraordinary." He returned to his tea with a tiny smile on his lips.

Tony just jerked his head at Jimmy. "You know what needs done; we're warm and willing."

So Jimmy gave instructions, then told Abby, "You point out any remaining booby traps. I don't want explosions of any kind in MY morgue."

Abby saluted left handed and barked, "Sir! Yes, Sir! On it, Sir!"

Jimmy sighed and said, "Wrong hand, and I'm not even enlisted. Get to it."

It took nearly an hour to dismantle all Abby's traps, clean the morgue properly, and reorganize the things that Symons had moved, lost, or just neglected to replace.

When they were done, Gibbs said, "Abby we need to have a little talk."

Abby scowled for a moment then sighed. "Okay. But I'm pretty sure I know what you're going to say and ... well ... I guess I did go a bit overboard but ... Sheila in Accounting is getting an ulcer, Beverly in Files ... he pinched her butt. And Doug in Evidence ... Symons accused him of being queer and he's not. Not that there's anything wrong with being LBT but it was an obvious attempt to get him into some sort of trouble so ... and there was Linda in the SecPool, he ... told her he'd get her fired for taking a day off when he wanted her to do his filing and on and on and ... I got a bit carried away when I thought of all the people he bullied so ..." she hung her head, biting her lip. "I guess I turned into a bit of a bully myself. I'm sorry." She looked up when Gibbs chucked her under the chin with one finger. "I'm not apologizing to him, though."

Gibbs hugged Abby then said, "Okay, you see what you did wrong and you're sorry. Just don't do it again. Okay?"

Abby sighed and hugged Gibbs back. "Okay. I think I'll give up on jokes for awhile."

They wound up lounging around Ducky's office, listening to Abby tell them all about her jokes and explaining just how badly she could have hurt herself or someone else.

Tony told her, "And that's why we stick to glue, silly string, and messing with each other's computers and food."

Dr. Osborn Symons the third

When I was working, the main complaint we all had was the notorious 'food bandit', usually management, who saw nothing wrong with helping him- or herself to any lunch that they wanted. They all seemed to think that the person could just go out and buy something. Never mind that the underpaid "peons" brought lunch because they couldn't afford to buy something, or they had food allergies. It wasn't that unusual for someone to booby-trap food with ipecac or Ex-Lax.

And dealing with food thieves was especially bad for those of us who worked the night shift ―third or graveyard shift― since nothing much, including the cafeteria, was open. Jordre.

FOADIAF - fuck off and die in a fire.