Okay, so this is a really... well strange fic that I wrote tonight because I was bored.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from NCIS.
I Swear To God I Just Saw a Dragon
Palmer was running late. Really late. He was having the worst night of his life. One would almost feel sorry for him, except he had brought it upon himself. He drove over the nail in the driveway in a rush to get to the Navy Yard. He continued to drive with a flat tire for two miles before his car decided that it could no longer take it. He failed to learn how to change a tyre when his father bought the car for him. So, in truth, he had nobody to blame but himself.
The cab driver did not take the most direct route to the Navy Yard, although his clueless passenger sitting in the back seat seemed not to notice. Palmer dashed out of the vehicle in such a rush that he gave the cabby a thirty dollar tip for a twenty dollar trip. Just what was he doing carrying a fifty around in his pocket anyway?
He was stopped at the front gate by security, who threatened to provide him with a free cavity search if he didn't produce the necessary ID within the next thirty seconds. Thankfully, he found his NCIS ID in his bag. Things were finally starting to look up for him. Or not.
Palmer ran through the parking lot and tripped over a dead, black cat, landing flat on his face, the precious items from his bag strewn everywhere. He shuffled away from the feline corpse at great speed, bumping his head on a dark blue sedan as he moved.
"This has not been my night," Palmer muttered under his breath as he quickly attempted to replace his valuables in the knapsack he was carrying.
He got up off the ground and heard a loud screech. He quickly turned around to see if his luck had not turned and he was about to be hit by a car, but nothing was moving in sight. Racking his brains to decide where the noise he heard was coming from, he inadvertently looked to heavens for an explanation.
And that was when he saw it. A prized, majestic creature of a deep blue shade with wings the size of a Boeing 737 and a vibrant tail with more spikes than a porcupine. A dragon. Palmer clasped his hands to his eyes and then ripped them open seconds later. The mythical being had disappeared from view.
'I'm going crazy,' Palmer thought inwardly, his mind racing as he stood motionlessly in the middle of the parking lot at the Washington Navy Yard, 'I have some deadly, rapidly mutating virus attacking my central nervous system. Neurosyphillis or Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. How would I even get Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease? Perhaps I'm lucky and it's a simple subarachnoid haemorrhage or subdural haematoma from the fall. Stupid cat.'
He stood there, immobile, for at least a minute, staring at the skies, his brain lost in his imagination. The he remembered why he was there. 'The case! Doctor Mallard will not approve of my tardiness.'
Palmer was running through the parking lot, having a very difficult time dodging the parked vehicles in the pitch black environment, when he heard the noise again. He stopped still, his ears perking up to listen for even the slightest tremor of activity. There was none. He flicked his eyes up to skies once more to reveal an empty darkness. No light and certainly no fire-breathing dragon.
Shaking his head, Palmer finally entered the bullpen, deciding that if he saw and heard it, then someone else must have. There was no way he was going crazy.
"I swear to God, I just saw a dragon," Palmer announced as he walked through the squad room.
"And you said that he never says anything worth listening to," Tony whispered into Ziva's ear. He was presently hovering over her chair, doing everything he could think of to be a great source of annoyance to her. At least until Gibbs got back from his meeting with the Director in MTAC.
"It's a figment of your imagination, Palmer," McGee called out from his desk, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from his computer screen.
"Just like my feelings for Tony are a figment of yours, McGee?" Ziva piped up, glaring at him from across the bullpen.
"How many times do I have to tell you guys?" McGee reasoned, a certain amount of exasperation in his voice, "The characters of Deep Six are not based on you guys. It's fiction."
"Okay, can we get back to my dragon?" Palmer shouted in a frustrated manner. He had had enough to deal already that night. He had no desire to listen to the agents on the team slog it out for hours while they debated the truth behind McGee's bestseller.
"Was it Puff the Magic Dragon?" Tony asked jestingly as he walked back to his own desk, "Coz then we all know what you were doing outside."
"I'm sorry?" Palmer asked, clearly confused Tony's remark.
"There is no such thing as dragons, Palmer," Ziva told him calmly.
"This is coming from the woman who thought we were being chased by a lion-headed dragon goat last week," Tony joked, a superior look plastered on to his charming face.
Ziva merely glared back in his direction.
"I'm telling you, I saw and heard a dragon!" Palmer nearly shouted, his arms waving around like a mad man, "It had bright blue scales and huge wings, enormous even, and a long, spiky tail. And it was breathing fire."
"Get it outta your head, Palmer," Gibbs said, walking into the bullpen with his signature cup of Starbucks coffee. He resisted the strong urge to slap the young Medical Examiner's assistant on the back of the head, but sadly, that was a joy that he reserved for members of his team only. "And may I ask what you are doing in my squad room?"
"Right," Palmer said, slightly confused and appearing to be very disorientated, "Sorry, sir. Uh, boss... Gibbs."
Gibbs shot him his trademark glare and then turned away from him and walked to his own desk, leaving Palmer standing alone, stupidly, in the centre of the bullpen. His head snapped back into action after about thirty seconds and he walked solemnly down to Autopsy. He stopped midway down and thought for a second. "Lion-headed dragon goat?"