The bullpen at NCIS hummed with activity. Tony DiNozzo, ever the jokester, leaned against his desk, bantering with McGee. The familiar rhythm of the office provided comfort—a sanctuary from the chaos of crime scenes and investigations.
Jimmy Palmer, usually the quiet one, approached Tony. His heart raced; he'd rehearsed this moment countless times. Tony looked up, eyebrows raised.
"Hey, Jimmy," Tony said. "What's up?"
Jimmy hesitated, then blurted out, "Tony, I need to tell you something."
Tony leaned in, intrigued. "Shoot."
Jimmy took a deep breath. "I'm not just an assistant. I mean, I am, but—"
"—but?" Tony prompted.
"I'm a doctor," Jimmy confessed. "A medical examiner."
Tony blinked. "Wait, what? You're a doctor?"
Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. I went to medical school after Ducky coaxed me. Passed the exams on the third try."
Tony's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Jimmy shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't want to change the group's dynamics. Plus, Ducky was still around, and I didn't want to overshadow him."
Tony grinned. "So, you've been keeping this secret all these years?"
"Yeah," Jimmy admitted. "But I love what I do. Helping catch the bad guys—it's fulfilling."
Tony clapped him on the back. "Well, Dr. Palmer, congratulations! You've been hiding your light under a bushel."
Jimmy blushed. "Thanks, Tony."
As the day wore on, Tony couldn't resist teasing Jimmy. "Hey, Doc, got any medical advice for my sore back?"
Jimmy rolled his eyes. "I'm not that kind of doctor."
But Tony persisted. "Come on, Dr. Palmer, diagnose me. Is it a rare tropical disease? Am I allergic to paperwork?"
Jimmy laughed. "You're allergic to responsibility, Tony."
And so, the bullpen buzzed with a new dynamic. Jimmy Palmer, the unassuming assistant, now held a secret—one that Tony guarded like a prized possession. They shared late-night conversations about autopsies, medical mysteries, and life's absurdities.
One day, as they sat in the breakroom, Tony leaned back in his chair. "You know, Jimmy, you're like our own undercover superhero. Dr. Palmer by day, lab tech by night."
Jimmy chuckled. "I prefer the lab coat to a cape."
"But seriously," Tony said, "you're an asset to the team. And Ducky would be proud."
Jimmy's eyes softened. "I miss him."
"We all do," Tony agreed. "But he left you in good hands."
And so, Jimmy Palmer—the unassuming doctor—continued to assist Gibbs and the team. He reveled in the thrill of solving cases, even as he kept his secret close. Tony, ever the confidant, watched over him like a big brother.
As they closed another case, Tony clapped Jimmy on the shoulder. "Keep going, Dr. Palmer. And remember, you're not just an assistant."
Jimmy smiled. "Thanks, Tony. I won't forget."
And in the heart of NCIS, where secrets and camaraderie intertwined, Jimmy Palmer embraced his dual identity—a lab tech by day, a doctor by choice.
