NCIS/His Dark Materials Fic: "A Little Cut" 1/1
Title: A Little Cut
Fandom: His Dark Materials/NCIS
Characters/Pairings: Donald “Ducky” Mallard, Jimmy Palmer
Author: evil_little_dog
Words: 500
Rating: Teenish
Summary: Suicides involving daemons have to hurt worse.
Warnings: Mentions of suicide, dead body, fusion fic.
Disclaimer: Neither universe is mine, drat it all.
Prompt: from tigriswolf, Author’s choice, author’s choice, suicides in a world with daemons
X X X
Whispers often wandered the morgue. The room echoed with old conversations Ducky had with the living and the dead. Jimmy Palmer readied their first bodies of the day, setting up the tools necessary to investigate the death and finish the report on why the seaman’s life ended.
The young man’s eyes and mouth were open, as if in surprise. His pale face and the slit across his neck showed how his death had occurred. Jimmy gave the body a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry you have to be here,” he said.
Bernie, his crow daemon, hopped from his shoulder onto the sheet covering the body. She cocked her head and shuddered. “I hate seeing bodies by themselves.”
“I know you do, Bernie.” Jimmy felt it himself. Daemons vanished when their person died, leaving behind only a hint of dust to show they’d even existed. A good wind could blow that dust away.
“Well, Mr. Palmer, Miss Berendia,” Dr. Mallard said as he came through the doors, followed by his lynx daemon, Alieandal, “a good morning to you.” Alieandal nodded her head to Jimmy and Bernie, and Bernie spread her wings and bowed back before hopping back to Jimmy’s shoulder. Alieandal sprang onto the empty table next to the body, peering across the small divide of space at the man. “What have we here?”
“I’m not sure, Dr. Mallard. I haven’t really started looking too much yet.” Jimmy tried to keep his face neutral, but an apologetic smile slipped out. “But superficially, it appears the deceased bled to death after the knife cut through the carotid artery.”
“Hmm.” Mallard peered at the cut, the corners of his mouth turning down. “There was a knife found near the body, am I correct?”
Jimmy nodded. “From all appearances, Doctor, our seaman committed suicide.”
Alieandal hissed, her ears flattening. “Such a waste,” she said, and Dr. Mallard let out a hmph of agreement.
“My dear,” he said, laying his hand on Alieandal’s head, “everyone is pushed past a point at some point in their lives. We cannot judge this man for what he did.”
“But his daemon,” Bernie said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, “how horrible for them both!”
“This is true, Miss Berendia.” Dr. Mallard peered at her over the rim of his glasses. “We still have to complete our examination, and provide his family with some sort of closure.”
Bernie fluttered her wings to settle herself. “You’re right, Doctor.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Dr. Mallard straightened himself. “Well, Mr. Palmer, shall we get on with our autopsy?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said, going to fetch the rest of the tools needed. Bernie clung to his shoulder, her talons digging into his skin. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, reaching up to smooth the feathers on her chest with his curled finger. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time.” She responded by rubbing her head against his cheek, the familiarity of the comfort enough to make him smile. Neither of them was going anywhere for a long time.
X X X
Fandom: His Dark Materials/NCIS
Characters/Pairings: Donald “Ducky” Mallard, Jimmy Palmer
Author: evil_little_dog
Words: 500
Rating: Teenish
Summary: Suicides involving daemons have to hurt worse.
Warnings: Mentions of suicide, dead body, fusion fic.
Disclaimer: Neither universe is mine, drat it all.
Prompt: from tigriswolf, Author’s choice, author’s choice, suicides in a world with daemons
X X X
Whispers often wandered the morgue. The room echoed with old conversations Ducky had with the living and the dead. Jimmy Palmer readied their first bodies of the day, setting up the tools necessary to investigate the death and finish the report on why the seaman’s life ended.
The young man’s eyes and mouth were open, as if in surprise. His pale face and the slit across his neck showed how his death had occurred. Jimmy gave the body a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry you have to be here,” he said.
Bernie, his crow daemon, hopped from his shoulder onto the sheet covering the body. She cocked her head and shuddered. “I hate seeing bodies by themselves.”
“I know you do, Bernie.” Jimmy felt it himself. Daemons vanished when their person died, leaving behind only a hint of dust to show they’d even existed. A good wind could blow that dust away.
“Well, Mr. Palmer, Miss Berendia,” Dr. Mallard said as he came through the doors, followed by his lynx daemon, Alieandal, “a good morning to you.” Alieandal nodded her head to Jimmy and Bernie, and Bernie spread her wings and bowed back before hopping back to Jimmy’s shoulder. Alieandal sprang onto the empty table next to the body, peering across the small divide of space at the man. “What have we here?”
“I’m not sure, Dr. Mallard. I haven’t really started looking too much yet.” Jimmy tried to keep his face neutral, but an apologetic smile slipped out. “But superficially, it appears the deceased bled to death after the knife cut through the carotid artery.”
“Hmm.” Mallard peered at the cut, the corners of his mouth turning down. “There was a knife found near the body, am I correct?”
Jimmy nodded. “From all appearances, Doctor, our seaman committed suicide.”
Alieandal hissed, her ears flattening. “Such a waste,” she said, and Dr. Mallard let out a hmph of agreement.
“My dear,” he said, laying his hand on Alieandal’s head, “everyone is pushed past a point at some point in their lives. We cannot judge this man for what he did.”
“But his daemon,” Bernie said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, “how horrible for them both!”
“This is true, Miss Berendia.” Dr. Mallard peered at her over the rim of his glasses. “We still have to complete our examination, and provide his family with some sort of closure.”
Bernie fluttered her wings to settle herself. “You’re right, Doctor.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Dr. Mallard straightened himself. “Well, Mr. Palmer, shall we get on with our autopsy?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said, going to fetch the rest of the tools needed. Bernie clung to his shoulder, her talons digging into his skin. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, reaching up to smooth the feathers on her chest with his curled finger. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time.” She responded by rubbing her head against his cheek, the familiarity of the comfort enough to make him smile. Neither of them was going anywhere for a long time.
X X X