His throat hurt.

That was what registered first, when Jimmy managed to blink his eyes open and squint when the light hit them. He was still tired and lethargic, but he knew that he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, anyway. So he might as well get up. The young M.E assistant pushed himself up into a sitting position but swayed dizzily the moment he did so. He was waiting to collapse down on the couch he was on, but was surprised when no impact came. Jimmy looked up to see what had stopped him from slumping backwards and he couldn't stop the light blush from dusting over his cheeks.

He was only still partially upright, because of the four strong hands that had reached out to steady him. Hands that that belonged to a worried Tony and McGee. Jimmy's eyes widened instantly and several emotions flooded him at once, guilt...embarrassment ...shame...disgust. The young M.E assistant tried to lunge to his feet, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder and a glass of water shoved into his line of sight.

Jimmy stared at the clear liquid blankly for a moment, before taking the glass in his own hand and sipping at it tentatively. The cold water slid down his throat soothingly and he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the concerned looks that were being shot in his direction. Finally, after the water, Jimmy's voice seemed to have returned and he gave a small.

"...Sorry..."

"Rule 6."

Tony whispered firmly and at Jimmy's mildly confused look, McGee explained the rule for him.

"Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness."

McGee whispered stiffly and Jimmy smiled at the rule. Weaknesses...he sure had a lot of those. Apologizing just added a little more to that ever growing list. 'A real sign of weakness is having a meltdown in front of your friends.' Jimmy thought bitterly. Then when he saw the hurt and confused look on the two agents' faces, he paled. Had he just said that out loud?!

"That shouldn't be a weakness, Palmer."

McGee whispered softly and Tony chimed in as well, both agents looking at the young M.E assistant with matching expressions of hurt.

"Yeah, Autopsy Gremlin. You should've told us...at least told somebody."

Jimmy found himself bristling slightly at that comment. What if he had told them?! They would've treated him differently, he would've been more fragile, more breakable. That much more of a liability! He was already clumsy, directionless, Jimmy Palmer. Just add autism to the list and he'd be sacked for sure.

"What about that Rule 4, you guys have? The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person - if you must. There is no third best."

Jimmy whispered quietly as he got up from the couch and when he saw the concerned looks shot at him, he explained.

"I'm using the restroom."

-PlaceSkip-

"It makes sense, Gibbs."

Ziva David whispered as she looked at the papers in her hands. Several print outs from Aspergers related sites online. The similarities to Jimmy were so astounding that she was surprised that she hadn't seen them before. Maybe she, like the rest of Team Gibbs, hadn't wanted there to be something different about Jimmy. They just wanted him to be normal, he and Ducky were calm, little islands of normal in a sea of terrorist organizations, murders, kidnappings and a host of other things. But now, the calm, little island that was Jimmy Palmer wasn't so normal anymore. Still...she did wonder how she hadn't seen the signs.

'They may be socially awkward...'

All those jokes and comments the young M.E had made. They weren't just in bad taste, he really didn't understand how to react. That was why he had trouble not doing his job at a crime scene.

'They may be proficient in knowing categories of information...'

Jimmy seemed to always give them small facts of things they either didn't care about, or hadn't bothered to listen too.

'...frequently have motor skill delays and may appear clumsy or awkward...'

She couldn't even count how many times, Jimmy had tripped, stumbled or fallen while at a crime scene. He just seemed to be so unbalanced, so clumsy. Tony teased him about it quite a lot, were they teasing him about something he couldn't control?

'Eccentric or repetitive behaviors...'

That odd thing he'd been doing with a pen at the crime scene, the way he'd been rocking backwards on his heels. The officer who had helped the young M.E had called it something strange..stumping?...stemming?...stimming? Yes, that was it! He'd called it 'stimming'.

'...blunt to a fault..'

Oh yes, that was definitely Jimmy. Tony would joke almost constantly about Jimmy's lack of filter between his brain and mouth. Whatever Jimmy thought, he would say. Ziva felt her stomach clench in guilt, how many times had they glared at him or teased him about something that he had no control over?

Gibbs walked over and gently took the papers from her frozen hands, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder as he did so. When he spoke next, It was almost as if he could read her chain of thoughts.

"We didn't know."

Ziva looked at him with upset, yet guarded eyes. Before growling out a soft...

"But we should have."

-TimeSkip-

Jimmy knelt over the sink in the bathroom, splashing water in his face as he tried to think clearly with his glasses-less eyes bleary and unfocused. But even without seeing his reflection clearly, he knew he looked about as awful as he felt. If not worse. The bags under his eyes had bags of their own and the dark circles around his eyes could rival that of a raccoon. His naturally curly dark hair was sticking up in all directions, making him look even younger than he felt. Then his scowl only grew as he saw what he was wearing, a huge pair of gray sweat pants that completely covered his bare feet and an oversized red t-shirt that must've belonged to either Tony or McGee.

When the young M.E assistant squinted at his bare arms, he could see the fuzzy outlines of where his teeth had dug into his bare flesh. He sighed and reflexively tried to run his right hand through his hair, only to wince at the sharp stab of pain that accompanied the action. That was when he noticed the thick, white mitten of bandages that covered said hand. 'Well wasn't that just dandy.' He thought, frustration coating the edges.

All he wanted to do was go home and sleep in his room for another few hours. Was that too much to ask? Maybe if he called Clark, his older brother could get him out of this. The young man tugged his phone out of his pocket. (Some kind soul had put it in the horrid sweatpants.) and pressed the first number on his speed dial before resting the device against his ear.

"Hey, Jimmy. What's up?"

Usual Clark, always answering the phone when Jimmy called. The young man couldn't repress the relieved sigh that followed the sound of his older brother's voice. He was so relieved that he had to remind himself to answer.

"I had a meltdown at a crime scene."

Jimmy sighed, softly but he hoped that his older brother heard it. He really didn't want to repeat himself. It was embarrassing enough without having to repeat it a second time. When Clark's shocked and worried voice came over the line, Jimmy knew that his message had gotten across, loud and clear.

"At a crime scene?! How bad Jimmy?"

Jimmy bit his lip and tried to keep his voice from wavering, but it did anyway.

"Bad."

Clark's tone instantly lost its shock and it was replaced by even more concern and worry. Which made Jimmy feel even more guilty. What if Clark was driving? What if he caused him to crash?!

"Oh shit. Are you okay? Want me to come get you?"

Jimmy found himself nodding, before realizing that Clark couldn't see him over the phone and that he would have to ask verbally.

"I'm fine. Are you busy?"

He whispered and was relieved by Clark's next statement. It was horribly embarrassing, he was twenty two years old. He wasn't a needy little kid anymore. But for the life of him...he really wanted his big brother.

"Not overly...I'm on my way Jimmy."