Work Text:
Ducky inspected the photos and stilled suddenly. "Oh dear. Twelve hours ago? This is bad, Jethro, this is very bad." Gibbs had barely opened his mouth before Ducky ran out the door.
He caught up at the autopsy room's doors. "Ducky, what . . . ?"
The doors swung wide as a corpse sat up on the autopsy table with a labored gasp. Startlingly blue eyes fixed on them, and the dead man grinned. "Ducky! Like the gray hair--makes you look distinguished." The word dripped innuendo.
Gibbs looked at Ducky.
Ducky let his face fall into his hand, glasses and all. "Jack. Not again."