Title: Two Coroners Meet At The Hotel Bar

Author: Josette Grover

Fandoms: NavyNCIS/CSI

Pairing: Ducky/Gibbs, Al/Brass

Archive: BeyondCanon, WWOMB

Synopsis: Two coroners meet in the hotel restaurant/bar after yet another boring lecture and compare notes on their lovers, co-workers, and other aggravations.

AN: This is my first CSI fic, please be gentle.

AN II: I got the idea for this little story from the scene in Yankee White. The look on Gibbs face when the Security Guard at the airport's metal detector asked if the NCIS was anything like CSI had me howling.

AN III: I don't think they've ever really focused on Dr. Al on CSI, so if they've given a canon reason for him to be a double amputee and I've got it wrong, please let me know. Since I don't think they have, I made up my own reason.

Two Coroners Meet At The Hotel Bar
By Josette Grover

Dr. Donald Mallard, MD. NCIS reads the nametag that Ducky takes off his coat and shoves into his pocket. Thank whoever you will that this damn seminar is finally over with. If he could have gotten an earlier flight, he would already be gone, but he's booked for the first flight out in the morning.

(Well that's two days I'll never get back. How the hell could something that sounded so interesting on paper turn out to be so damn boring.) he thinks as he is led to a booth in the back corner.

"Sir, I hope you don't mind sharing a booth. We're a little crowded. You were both attending the seminar today, so you already know each other." The waitress says as an older man is led to the booth. Both men look at each other, nod, and take the menus she hands them.

"Dr. Al Robbins, Las Vegas CSI." Al says, holding his hand out to the other man.

"Dr. Donald Mallard, NCIS. Call me Ducky" Ducky says at the other man's raised eyebrow.

"NCIS?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Services. We handle cases involving the Navy and Marines."

"Wait a second, I think I've heard about your group. You're the ones who found out how a navy officer was poisoned on Air Force One."

"Yes, that was our group. Excuse me, would you?" Ducky says as the cell phone rings in his pocket. Picking the phone up, he sees it's Gibbs calling and turns on the phone.

"What? Yes, I made an appointment for you at the eye doctors. Why did I do it? Because you need glasses, that's why, and I knew you wouldn't do it yourself. I'll be home tomorrow, we can talk then. Yes, the seminar is over and it was as damn bloody boring as I thought it'd be."

"Co-Worker?" Al asks, recognizing the 'I'm not going to kill him, I could get away with it as justifiable homicide but I'd get stuck with all the damn paperwork' growl.

"Yes, he'd rather hold everything at arm's length trying to read it rather than admit he needs glasses because 'glasses means I'm old' He didn't tell me about it at his last physical, oh no, I had to find out from another co-worker who 'ratted him out'. I finally had to threaten to use my medical authorization and yank him from the field until he went to the doctor."

"Oh yes, I have one like that. He's got a hereditary condition that causes hearing loss. He'd rather have gone deaf than admitted he had this condition. I finally found out a couple days before he finally broke down and had surgery to correct it. He was damn close to it before he finally broke down and asked me to take a look at it."

"Tell me, do you have an annoying, hyperactive lab clerk?"

"Yes, he keeps wanting to get in the field. He's good, but he needs some experience. He's calmed down a little since being hurt in a lab explosion."

"I guess I'm lucky there, Angie's not interested in being on the field. I just try not to go into her lab unless I have to. Her décor leans towards pictures of injuries, the gorier the better."

"So, you married?" Al asks as their drinks are delivered.

"No, but I'm involved with someone. Yourself."

"The same, we've been together three years. And you?"

"Ten years next month. I've made arrangements to go to a hotel for the weekend as an anniversary present. Now if only something doesn't come up and we have to cancel it."

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened?" Ducky points at Al's canes.

"Lost my legs in a car accident. Makes standing over the autopsy table a little tiring, but I can perch on a stool if I need to. I have an assistant do all the running for me."

"So, what shift do you work?" Ducky asks, picking up a spear of water chestnut with his fork and popping it into his mouth. "From what I understand, you keep the coroner's office running 24/7."

"I work the night shift. What about you?"

"We work when we're needed, otherwise we're in the office working on reports and helping out other agencies. We're on call ready to move at a moment's notice, though. If Gibbs hasn't threw his cell phone in a jar of paint thinner, that is. In that case, Anthony usually drops by Gibbs house, runs down to the basement, and tells him we have a case."

"How many people do you have?"

"Including me? Five of us."

"Doesn't sound like too big a group for all the things you do."

"Oh, we've got a couple new people over the years. Katie joined us a month ago, she seems to be fitting in nicely. It's not like we have new bodies to deal with every night."

"Nice to meet you." Al says, slipping his arms through the braces and grabbing the handle of his crutches as he slides out of the booth. "I have to go write up a report for my bosses so they'll reimburse me for this waste of time."

"Nice to meet you Al. Look me up if you're ever in Washington."

"Same thing if you're ever in Las Vegas." Al says, heading for the elevator as Ducky asks the waitress to box up the rest of his meal to take upstairs. Pushing the button with his cane, Al juggles his box of leftovers from hand to hand as he waits for the elevator.

Once up in his room, Al ignores the notebook computer looking accusingly at him from the table. Instead, he lays on the bed and reaches for the phone.

"Brass."

"Hey babe, it's me."

"Al, good to hear your voice. Calling to tell me you're on your way home."

"My flight arrives at one. And you are not going to pick me up at the airport." He orders. "You sound exhausted. Go home, I'll take a cab home from the airport."

"I'll see you then. Goodnight, Al.

"Goodnight Jim. See you tomorrow."