Disclaimer: I own neither NCIS nor the characters involved. This is for entertainment purposes only, I make no money from this.

Credits: Thanks to Kate98 and Rinne for the beta work.

Author's Note: Previously published in LiveJournal's NCIS Flashfiction challenge community.

Tell Me

"Tell me, Mr. Pierce, why would you walk straight into a plate glass window? Because it seems to me a rather odd…" He tightened the tweezers around another glass shard and plucked it neatly from the wound – don't disturb the tissue, note where it came from, it's all evidence – dropping it into a small plastic bag. "… sort of hobby. Surely you must have known it was there. Were you helped? Did someone push you? That would seem to be the logical course of events."

He listened carefully, but didn't hear a response. Oh well, such things were to be expected. Not everyone was comfortable talking. Ducky bent close, searching for more slivers, using a small light to create reflections. Interesting substance, glass. Made from stone, yet so very fragile, and capable of holding a keener edge than any metal. "Did you know that glass is not actually solid? It's more a very slow moving liquid. You can tell, if you look at really old windows: they are thicker at the bottom than at the top. The glass pools over time, following the laws of gravity. Unfortunately, this glass is rather new, so it will still be rather uniform, which is a shame because if it wasn't it would show us more readily just how you went through." He plucked another shard free. "Plate glass is, of course, the most dangerous, being so thin. It must have been like a rain of knives."

Pierce said nothing to confirm or deny, but the cuts clearly showed that the description was accurate. "Rather painful, I would assume, despite the fact that it's far less agonising to be cut with a sharp edge as opposed to a dull one."

"Dr. Mallard." The icy tones cut into Ducky's thinking, rather like a broken piece of plate glass slicing into flesh. "Just whom do you think you are talking to?" As always, the man could make a mere question sounded like an entire interrogation compressed into a few simple words.

Ducky looked up into the looming, craggy face of his supervisor. "No one, Dr. Bell." Fitting that this man should be in charge of a forensics lab, really. After all, it was a Doctor Bell – Joseph – who served as inspiration for the character of Sherlock Holmes. This Bell however, had no time for imaginative assistants.

"One might assume that you were speaking to Mister Pierce." The tone held nothing but disapproval. "The man is dead. Try to contain your fancy and focus on fact. This is not a career suited to whimsy. If you seek one, try the theatre."

"Yes, Dr. Bell." This was not a time to argue. Instead, he waited for the other man to walk away, before turning back to his patient. "Dead, perhaps, but still a person, don't you agree?" Yes, he could see, the man definitely did.