NCIS (2003–…): Season 10, Episode 2 - Recovery - full transcript

Ducky?

Jimmy?

Guys? You in there?

Get it together, Abby.

This is old news.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

Ducky? Jimmy?

Ducky? Jimmy? Guys?

Oh, no. Not again.

Oh, God.

Abbs.

Gibbs.

3:00 in the morning, Abbs.

I know.

I'm sorry I woke you.

You calling for the same reason?

Yeah.

It happened again.

♪ NCIS 10x02 ♪
Recovery
Original air date on October 2, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪

This is a top priority.

Tell 'em I want
an answer in an hour.

Judy! Judy! Judy!

I've been thinking
about your position.

How does one get to be a Navy
Facilities Manager anyway?

Oh, same way one gets to be a
very special agent, I imagine.

So, uh, good looks,
a nice smile, and a little luck?

Uh, hard work, determination,

and as for the luck,
I prefer to make my own.

Amen to that, sister.

Well, we've been very lucky

to have you working
with the Seabees on this.

The repairs look great.

Oh, it's what we do.

Fresh coat of paint, and
my work will be done here.

Hey, listen, I-I just want
to take this opportunity

to say that
not only are you

great at your job--
clearly, you are--

but you are also
the best-smelling,

uh, Navy Facilities Manager
I've ever met.

Uh, speaking of repairs,
brother...

Were we?
Since it is not every day

that our Navy Yard
gets blown up,

does our office not deserve
a few improvements?

Yeah, I wondered that, too.

Seems like everything's going
back exactly the way it was.

Same desks, same

light fixtures.

Would a different paint color
be too much to ask?

Ease up, McDutch Boy.

I think the goal here is
for things to get back

to the way they were before.

Uh, back to normal
as soon as possible.

Those were my
marching orders.

Marching orders.

So if you've got
a complaint, I think

maybe you should take it
to the big man upstairs.

By that, I mean Vance,
not the big, big man.

Uh-huh. Though I do
see your point, guys.

Um,

budget's tight,
but there may be

some wiggle room
on paint color.

Give me a few hours.
I'll see what I can do.

Mm. Wiggle away.

Seriously? McGee, paint?

Seriously-- "best-smelling
Facilities Manager"?

Well, she is.

You've been after her
for weeks, Tony.

Never seen you take so long
to close a deal.

Rent a room already.

Get. It's get a room.

And I would have already
if I didn't have

two player-haters chiming in
from the cheap seats.

Guess that would make you
DiNozzo, huh?

Uh, the "spirited warrior"

would be Agent David,

and "pensive academic"
would be McGee.

Oh, Dr. Cranston sent

bullet-point descriptions
of each of you.

Which would
make you...?

Oh, forgive me.
Miles Wolf.

Crisis counselor.

Recent events have called

for mandatory
psych evaluations.

Uh, that's my specialty.

And what tribal name did
Cranston use to describe me?

All in due time,
but I look forward

to speaking with each of you,
uh, quite soon.

But right now, I'm running up
to see the big man upstairs,

as you... as you
like to say.

Tribal name.
Very good.

Very good.

Just when I think
we're finally moving on,

we're forced to have our heads
examined by Mr. Happy.

Be still, Warrior.

It's not so bad.

Yeah, not bad for you.

You like talking
about yourself.

That's because I have nothing
to hide, Pensive One.

Besides,

we're all perfectly fine,
aren't we?

I'm good.

Yeah.

I'm perfect.

The good news thus far,

gentlemen, is that all
but a few NCIS personnel

have survived the bombing and
are soldiering on, if you will.

Does that include the Armory?

Uh, no, Director.

Those were the few
I was referring to.

Your Armory is still suffering
over their missing

co-worker, Ms.
Margaret Watkins.

Midge.

After four months,
there's still no sign of her

since she evacuated
the day of the bombing.

Oh, we hope
that's about to change.

I said maybe, Director.

A car was found.

We're not sure
if it's hers yet.

Fingers crossed?

Yes.

Agent Gibbs, I have one unit
left to evaluate.

Dr. Cranston suggested
I save yours till last.

Uh, start with Sciuto.

Sciuto. That would be
Miss Abigail Sciuto.

"Gothic wildflower""

Uh, anything you want
to tell me going in?

Nightmares.

Yeah. Gibbs.

I shall be sure to review

Ms. Sciuto's case file
before speaking with her.

Divers matched the plate.

Midge's car.

Divers?

That is Midge.

After all this time, I thought
she would look much worse.

If you will kindly
make room, I will explain

that bodies do not

decay as quickly
in cool, fresh water.

I think maybe
Jimmy's getting a little cocky

in Ducky's
big-boy shoes.

Oh, you-you guys,
am I coming across that way?

I can certainly dial it back.
Do not dial a thing, Jimmy.

You're coming off
just fine.

Talk to me, McGee.

Apparently, this road's a
popular shortcut for the locals.

Midge count as a local?

Well, we're right
off the highway.

She's three exits
south of here.

Uh, victim is female,

early 40s.

Complexion
appears dark.

Dark?

She was quite fair.

Is it possible
this is not Midge?

I wouldn't get
your hopes up, Agent David.

Dr. Mallard!

Hey, Ducky!

Well, you look
wonderful.

Why should now
be any different?

As to Midge's complexion,

surely Mr. Palmer
knows by now...

Yeah, it's-it's silt.

It's-it's pond silt.

Good to see you, too, Jethro.

What are you doing here, Duck?

Well, when Mr. Palmer
called me to inform

that one of our own
may have been found,

how could I stay away?

Well, how about
doctor's orders?

No medical clearance?

A mere formality.

If I'm well enough
to swim and play golf,

then, certainly, I'm
well enough to visit.

I found a photo ID, boss.

It's Midge.

Certainly not the happy ending
we were hoping for.

Maybe she was speeding through
here after the evacuation,

lost control of the car?

Well, road's half-mud.
Makes sense.

Does it?

Missing Persons report
says she made it home that day.

Something
doesn't add up.

Yes, I would be
inclined to agree.

Agent Gibbs, found a wound
in her abdomen.

Looks like she's been shot.

Well, divers have been
dredging the pond for hours.

Still no gun.

What's with him?

Apparently, while
we were out,

our friend Judy left
some paint-color samples

for us to choose from.

Ah.
Correction.

My friend Judy left samples
on my desk

with a delightfully fragrant
and provocative note.

"See anything
you like""

Obviously asking all of us.

I'll give you
fragrant, Tony,

but clearly, she's asking
about paint samples.

Clearly, she's asking
what I might like.

Come on.

You know what I'd like? McGee.

An update.

Midge Watkins, 43.

Former enlisted,
retired Marine captain,

serving as an NCIS
weapons administrator

since '06.

Widowed in '02,
with one child, Navy Ensign

Grace Watkins,
stationed in San Diego.

She been notified?
She's on a flight right now.

Poor Midge.

Everybody liked her.

And she liked
everybody.

Mostly.

Mostly? Who
didn't she like?

No one, Tony.
You were right.

Oh, come on. Seriously.

They're mostly-ing me?

DiNozzo, take Ziva, go talk
to Midge's coworkers.

McGee, work up a timeline

of the last day Midge was seen alive.
On it, boss.

Why didn't she like me?

Let it go, Tony.
Come on. Let's go.

Okay, play it coy.

I'm fine with that.

Seriously, why?

As laboratories go,
this one's rather cozy.

I'd been told the bombing
did extensive damage.

Well, it's all put back
together now.

And if it's all the same
to you, I'd rather not

talk about the...

The what? Bombing?

Could you not lean there?

Oh, sorry.
It a sensitive machine?

It's not a machine.

It's Major Mass Spec.

And he hasn't completely
recovered yet from the...

Bombing.

Look, can we do this
another time?

'Cause this thing
with the Armory lady

has got me not
feeling so great.

Oh, was she a friend?

No. Just, after the, well...

Bombing.

...I was just really hoping
that she would turn up alive.

We all were.

I wonder if, um,

we might discuss
those recurring nightmares

that you suffered
a few years back?

You know, it's not uncommon for

old neuroses to return
after a major traumatic event.

So... have they?

What if they have?

Well, these dreams
where you see yourself

lying dead in Autopsy--

how does that image
make you feel?

I can't.

Yes, you can, Abby.

Trust yourself.

No. Look, you seem like

a really nice man,
Dr. Wolf, but...

...I can't go there. I won't.

Well, can't and won't
are no match for can and will.

And if you will talk to
me, Abby, perhaps I can

stop sounding like
a greeting card.

What do you say?

I say can't.

Won't.

I'm not going there.

Not to how it makes me feel,

and I am certainly
not going back to Autopsy.

Talk to me.

Ah,

Jethro, we've only
just finished

the x-rays.

Old habits die hard.

Mr. Palmer?

So do old doctors, apparently.

I said that
because he almost died.

Sorry about that.

Agent Gibbs,
despite the decomp,

I noticed
some defensive bruising

which indicated that Midge
put up quite a fight

before she was shot.

You got a bullet?

Not on the x-ray.

But although there
is an exit wound

on her back,
so whatever hit

went through and through.

I suggest you swab
the entry wound for...

Gunshot residue?

Yeah, Abby's running
the samples now.

Go home, Ducky.

I am bored to tears at home.

Well, then read a book.

Hell, write a book.

You need medical clearance.

I'm clearly

well enough to work.

Until I hear that
from a doctor not named Mallard,

I want you resting.

Doc, look,

if something comes up
and the kid gets stuck,

I'll call you.
You know I will.

All right, I'll leave,

but not happily, I assure you.

I don't need you happy.

I need you healthy.

I can't believe Midge is gone.

Could you recount for us

the last time
you both saw her?

Sure, it was the day
of the bombing.

I was on P229s.

Midge was handling
the new Cheytac M200s.

Actually, I handled
the M200s.

Pretty sure you had the HK45Cs.

No, Midge had finished
the HK45Cs.

I had the P229s and...

I'm sorry.

Could you be less specific?

Start with the evacuation.

Not much to tell.

I got out quick.

Yeah, we let Phyllis
and the others go,

and Midge and I stayed behind

to secure munitions.

You hear "bomb scare"

and never really think
one's gonna go off.

Well, one did.

Yeah, we still have
the bullet holes.

Set off a whole
chain reaction.

Boom, bang.

Bullets,
shrapnel flying everywhere.

Oh, look here.

I didn't even know I was hit
until I was halfway home.

Took a dozen
stitches at the ER.

Few inches left,
and you would've needed

a lot more than stitches.

Is it possible
that Midge was hit?

I don't think so.

We both got in our cars and
drove off at the same time.

Who knows?

We were all pretty out of it.

Are you saying Midge
didn't know she'd been hit?

We're saying
it's a possibility.

A bullet,
a piece of shrapnel.

You know of cases
where victims are in shock.

Like McGee, for example,

with a shard
of glass in his side.

Get a list of all the ammo
that went off in the armory.

See what might have hit Midge.

See if we can match
it to her wound.

Mm-hmm.
Good news.

I'm mentally stable.

Almost disturbingly so.

Uh, who's next?

Rock, paper, scissors?
Mm-hmm.

I always win.
How'd it go with Abby?

It didn't.

I'm afraid I found her
to be rather, uh...

...uncooperative.

Hey, Gibbs.

I was just about
to call you.

Yeah, I'll bet.

Um, there are epinephrine
pens in the glove box.

Midge's medical file
indicates

that she had some
pretty severe allergies.

What about the weapon?

Fully loaded .22

under the seat.

She never got
to use it.

What's going on
with you and the shrink?

I'm sorry?

Abbs, got to do something
about these nightmares.

I can't talk to strangers
about it, Gibbs.

Well...

it's going to be Wolf or me.

You?

Well, yeah,
if it means one of us

getting a full night's sleep.

I mean,

as long as we keep it short.

Nothing...

too deep.

See, this is why
I got so freaked out

after what happened
that day.

You know, not knowing
if I'd lost my best friends.

You didn't lose any of us.

Yeah, but it triggered
something, Gibbs,

and now I keep thinking

about what Dr. Wolf
was saying about my dreams.

You know, that... that image
of me lying dead on...

on the autopsy table and...
and how that makes me feel.

Abbs.

Nothing too deep, remember?

Alone, Gibbs.

It makes me feel alone.

Like I've got nobody.

No family.

Just... no one.

You talk to your brother lately?

No, I don't talk to him
about stuff like this.

Plus Luca's really busy.

I don't want to bother him.

What about the other one?

My biological brother?

Kyle?

He doesn't even know I exist.

Well...

maybe he should, Abbs.

I only met him
once, Gibbs.

I didn't actually meet him,

'cause I didn't have
the guts to...

Guts to do what, Abbs?

Abbs?

Bullet.

Oh. Wasn't shrapnel
from the armory.

Nope.

Midge was shot at
point-blank range

right here in the car.

I was in San Diego, coming
off six months at sea,

when word came in
about the explosion.

Did you speak to your mother?

We texted.

She said she'd
gotten home okay

and she'd call me
after she showered.

She never called back.

We searched all summer.

It was like she fell
off the planet.

I only went back on duty
last week.

My mom would have wanted me to.

I hate to ask this, Grace,
but, um,

did your mother
have any enemies?

What do you mean?

Wasn't the crash
an accident?

Sit down.

Your mother was shot.

It was not a robbery.

That's why it's
so important for us

to know if she had
any bad relationships.

There were none.

Everybody loved my mom.

She had a special way
with people.

Yes, she did.

You knew her well?

Your mother was always...

very supportive
of female agents.

Never failed to make me feel
as though she had my back.

I appreciated that.

I'm not surprised.

She was a big believer
in women supporting women.

Especially in the workplace.

Almost to a
fault sometimes.

To a fault?

Just the typical male grumbling
about playing favorites.

Not that she ever
let it bother her.

You can't tell me
Midge didn't like me

because I'm not a woman.

Let it go, Tony.
Midge liked you just fine.

She just thought you were
occasionally annoying.

Annoying?

That's almost worse.

You're more like
high-maintenance.

You know, always switching
from the hip holster

to the shoulder
to the ankle.

Changing from
the Glock 17 to the 23

and then back again.

What's high-maintenance
about that?

I like a certain holster.

I like a certain gun.

How about a certain paint?

Oh, Judy.

Um, got your samples right here.

Also got your note.
Thank you.

And we have
all checked off

our color preferences.

Well, here's the thing.

Uh, I'm afraid I can't
deliver what I promised.

Request was denied,
and it seems

the big man wants
to keep the colors

the same as they
were before.

What is up with Vance?

So, again, I'm
really sorry, guys.

We appreciate you trying.

Yeah.

Oh, hey, Judy.

We've gotten used to the orange.
It's quite all right.

Although I understand
your disappointment.

Maybe we could commiserate
over dinner tonight.

Tonight?

Yeah.
Oh, uh...

I have plans.

Oh, that's a shame.

How about this?

What night's good for you?

Any night.

Can't believe I have
to shoot you down

twice in a row.

Shoot... shoot me down?

Uh, well, dinner

is something else
that I can't deliver.

I'm spoken for.

Yeah, I'm sorry if I gave you
the wrong impression.

I thought you and I
were kind of...

sport-flirting.

You know, for fun.

Sport-flirting?

Yeah.

Sorry.

Hey.

It was fun.

You okay, Tony?

She smelled awful nice.

I want answers
for Midge, Gibbs.

This trail
is cold enough as it is.

We need to step up
our efforts.

We're doing all
we can, Leon.

Reviewing witness statements
as we speak, boss.

Tony and I are looking
into potential enemies.

And just a few
more evaluations

on my docket, Director.

Oh, Tony,

did you tell everyone
your tribal name?

Tribal name?

Brilliant Chatterbox.

You see, Dr. Cranston described...
Enough!

Finish your job, Wolf,

and you let my agents
finish theirs.

One of our own is dead,

and I want her
killer caught.

With no chatterboxing.

Yes, sir.

Nice, Wolfie.

Neglecting to check

the temperature of the room
before speaking--

it's, uh, always been
a bit of a shortcoming.

But only two to go.

Agent Gibbs?

Ziva, go.

It'll have to wait, Gibbs.
I think I'm on to something.

Okay, then put it up.

According

to personal records,
Midge hired Phyllis Moss

last year

over the objections
of this man,

fellow job applicant
Craig Wilson.

He is former Air Force.

McGee...

Deep background, boss.

Wilson filed a bias suit,

claiming that Midge
denied him employment

on the sole basis of gender,
but the grievance

was thrown out by a review board

just five months ago.

That's around the time of the bombing.
Hell of a coincidence.

Here we go.

Staff Sergeant
Craig Wilson, 38.

Reprimanded twice for fighting
while on active duty.

Discharged for
bad conduct in '07.

Currently unemployed.

Out of work and out for revenge?
Go on. Take Ziva. Get him.

Very exciting.

Shall we?

Okay.

Dr. Cranston used
many words

to describe you, Agent Gibbs.

Most in the...

"tough nut to crack"
category.

What say we
prove her wrong?

You're the doc, Doc.

Indeed.

So if you would kindly begin

by telling me where you were

when the bomb first exploded.

Would having
family around help?

I'm, I'm sorry.

Uh, your family?

Abby's.

You asked her
about her dreams.

She says they make her
feel alone.

Would family help?

I'm sorry.

You are aware that
this is your evaluation

and not...

Yes, yes, it might,

but only if family is
proved to be the root

of Abby's neurosis, and that
could take weeks of therapy

to discern.
I don't have much time.

Hey, Abby. Yeah.

Yeah, I'll be right down.

Duty calls.

But we've yet to even begin...
Doc...

I'll be back. I got another
question I want to ask you.

But that was a
great talk, Wolf.

I feel better already.

Thanks.

Not at all.

Something's odd, Abbs?

What's odd?
The bullet that killed Midge.

It's nasty.
It's, like,

way nastier than any
standard .32 I've ever seen.

Looks pretty
standard to me.

Yeah, well, look closer.

It's covered in mold spores,

and old mold,
like 60 years,

which means it's
a very old bullet.

From where?

Well, my first thought
is this assassin...

from the past-- he stumbles

through a tear
in the space-time continuum...

Or...

from somebody's very old gun?

That was my second thought.

Here's a list
of possibilities.

It's just gonna take me
a while to...

...to narrow it down.

You want to take a nap?

In my dreams.

Oh... not my dreams.

That's why I can't sleep
to begin with.

Why don't you do
something about it?

I am, Gibbs. I...

avoided Autopsy
for a really long time,

and I can do that again...
Not talking about Autopsy, Abbs.

I'm talking about your brother.

Your other brother, Abby.

What?

How could it hurt?

Lots of ways.

Maybe Kyle doesn't know...

he's adopted.

Or what if
he's not ready

to meet his sister?

And what if he doesn't like me?
Right.

Like that's even possible.

Come on.

A 60-year-old bullet.

Abby must be in her glory.

And you've barely spoken

since we left,
Brilliant Chatterbox.

Not feeling so
brilliant, I guess.

Well, if it is any consolation,

your friend Judy
did not seem the least bit

spoken for to me either.

She's just a symptom.

Vance was right to yell.

I'm off my game.

I've lost my focus.

It's like half my brain is
still stuck in that elevator.

And did you share this
with the Wolf?

What, and prove my tribal name?

That's a silly question.

Craig Wilson?

Depends who's asking.

NCIS. We'd like
to ask you just...

I hate when they run.

Come here!

I could've warned you
against that.

Tony?

That's not what it looks like.

Few things are.

My guns are licensed.

I was only heading out
to sell them.

Things are a little
tight right now.

Gonna get a whole lot tighter

if one of them
killed Midge Watkins.

Just my luck.

I get in a beef with some broad

and she turns up dead.

Excuse me.
Make that "some lady""

Or would you prefer woman?

You know what I would prefer?

I would prefer you not wearing
so much cheap cologne.

Well, guy on the go,
you know,

doesn't have much
time for showers.

In fact, Midge, Midge
didn't like that either.

She didn't like you a lot,

according to her notes
from your interview.

My interview?
Hmm.

Hmm. Yeah, I knew that was over
before it started.

I was sporting
the wrong sex organs that day.

Well, it seems to me,

the person who got the job over
you was just more qualified.

Here we go. Typical feminazing,

blindly defending
her own.

Excuse me?

You heard me.

You may not have noticed,
pal, but that's not

a swastika hanging
around my partner's neck.

Wow.

Talk about déjà vu.

I mean, it's like
the same interview...

right down to
the whipped boyfriend.

Whipped?

Boyfriend?
Oh, yeah.

The lovesick puppy that was

hanging all over Midge
and her every word.

Oh yeah, she had, she had

that guy wrapped up

big time.

I can understand why
she didn't hire this clown.

Ballistics report
came back negative.

Midge wasn't shot
by any of the guns

that this guy had on him.

That doesn't mean a damn thing.
He could've used another gun.

Don't worry about it, Leon.

We're not gonna
cut him loose yet.

Um, these are the weapons
most likely used.

There's two old
and one new,

all capable of
firing a moldy .32.

Have McGee start a search.

Will do.

Oh, and, um, if anybody
needs me for anything,

I'll be on my cell.

I have a, uh,

family matter to attend to.

A family matter?

Hey, Palmer.

Yeah.

So the water
in Midge's lungs

indicates that she
was still breathing

when her car
hit the pond.

Meaning that she was
likely shot just moments before.

Doesn't change much.

No, but these lesions
in her trachea might.

So we know she was
highly allergic,

but what could cause
this kind of reaction?

I really can't even say.

Keep working on her.
No.

I mean, yes, I will.

Um, what I mean to say is, um,

this is hard to admit...

Uh...
Jeez, Palmer, spit it out.

I couldn't help but overhear
what you said to Dr. Mallard

about giving him call

if I got stuck.
Are you stuck?

Quicksand.

Strictly brain work.

All brains, no brawn.
I promise.

Mallard.

Seriously?

Mr. Gender Bias said
I was Midge's boyfriend?

Jon's got a girlfriend.

Can you imagine
if we'd hired that jerk?

Trusting him to do what
Phyllis is doing now?

No, thanks.

So never anything between you?

Well...

I can't say never. We did kind
of have a fling a while back.

A fling?

No way.

It was years ago. No big deal.

How many years?

Right after she lost
her husband.

Just a mutual moment
of weakness.

- I could picture that.
- No, you couldn't, Phyllis,

and neither could we.

Believe me, Midge
deserved someone special,

but we knew we were
better as friends.

That brings up
another reason we're here.

Do you happen to know
anything about these guns?

Wow.

Couple of classics.

Nothing like that
in stock here.

Not in a long time anyway.

You thinking one of these
killed Midge?

Well, if it fired an old

.32 round, yeah,
it might have.

Do you know of any collectors
or dealers who might know more?

Yeah, I know a few.

I can e-mail you their numbers.

I'll be glad to call

around myself,
if it's any help.

That wouldn't hurt.

Be right with you.

No rush.

Um, I was...

Sorry. How can I help you?

Oh, you're not...

I, I don't...

I changed my mind.

Just take it as a sign, Abby.

You waited too long.
It wasn't meant to be.

- He has his life; you have...
- Excuse me, miss.

Wait, wait, wait.

I thought that was you.

Didn't you come
in the shop before?

A while back?

Last year. You remember that?

Yeah, like,
like it was yesterday.

That sounded weird, didn't it?

Not at all, no.

I just didn't know
if I was gonna see you again.

I had no way to find you.

Why would you want to find me?

I don't mean this
in a creepy way,

but ever since you came in,

I can't shake the feeling
that, that we had a connection

or something.
I, I don't know why.

I do.

I know why.

Wasn't easy to ask Gibbs

to call you in,
Dr. Mallard.

No time for pride,
Mr. Palmer.

Identifying these lesions
is all that matters.

I told you about
her allergies.

Yes, you did, and
by the look of this,

I'd say that Midge
was on the brink

of full-blown anaphylaxis
when she died.

That's what I thought.

I just have no idea
what could have caused it.

Yes, well, let's
swab some samples.

McGee, put up our timeline.

Uh, I got
it here, boss.

May 15, the bomb
went off at 3:16 p.m.

Coworker Jon Phelps
says Midge drove away

uninjured at
about 3:45.

She exchanged
text messages

with her daughter Grace at 4:56,

saying that she'd call
after a shower.

The call never came.

Leading us to believe
that Midge left willingly,

or was forced away at gunpoint.

And made to drive to the pond,
where she was shot in the car.

Does that timing seem
odd to you, Gibbs?

Bomb goes off at the Navy Yard,
someone decides

it's a good time
to pull off a murder?

Crime of opportunity?

Hoping to make it
look like an accident,

a result of the bombing.

Midge puts
up a fight;

she takes a bullet,
no more accident.

Still no leads on the gun.

That may have
just changed, Tony.

You get a bite?

A nibble.

That was a gun dealer
up in Philly

who sold a Colt Model
1903 Pocket Hammerless

to a private collector
about six months ago.

That was one of the
guns on Abby's list.

Who's the buyer?

Well, that's
the nibble part.

Seems just an hour ago
the dealer got a call

from the buyer begging him
not to give out his name.

Tell me you got
a name, McGee.

No, sir.
The dealer held out.

So instead of waiting
for a warrant,

I talked him into giving me
the shipping address instead.

That's not far from the pond.

Not far from Midge's place.

The name on the lease...

Oh. Hey,

Agents David, DiNozzo.
I assume you know

Agent Gibbs.
Of course.

The great Gibbs.

To what do I
owe the honor?

You got a gun collection, Jon?

D-Do I have a gun collection?

Okay, let's go
with your question then.

Sure, I... do
some hunting.

I have a few pieces.

I'd hardly call it
a collection.

We know a gun dealer
in Philadelphia

who might disagree.

You called him
just a few hours ago.

Only to buy time till
I figured this out.

I couldn't believe when I saw
my 1903 Colt on your list.

Another gun like mine
killing Midge?

I mean, what are the chances?
Slim.

Show us
the weapon.

Yeah, no problem.

Believe me,
that's the first thing I did

when I got home today.

There it was, safe and sound,

right where it's been
since the day I bought it.

Wh-Where's my Colt?

I-It was just there

a couple of hours ago. I...

Sit.

Stay.
Yes, sir.

Yeah, Palmer?

You've got Dr. Mallard
here as well, Agent Gibbs.

Good to be back, Jethro.

Ducky,

you're just visiting.

Yeah, well, the lesions
in Midge's trachea

were the result

of a severe anaphylactic
reaction to a chemical

known as a-Terpineol.

It's used in all
sorts of products,

including soaps,

detergents, shampoos,
and colognes.

Okay. Thanks, guys.

All clear.

Yeah, the house
is clear, but...

do you smell something?

What?

Nothing.

I-I can prove it wasn't me.

I was getting my arm
stitched at the hospital

till almost midnight
that night.

You call
Saint Miriam's Hospital.

It'll be in their records.

Allow me.

Wear a lot of cologne, Jon?

Why would you
ask that, boss?

Ducky said our killer
had a chemical on him.

Soaps, shampoo...

cologne.

Wilson wore that cheap cologne.

That's right.

I remember
that stink.

It was Wilson.

No, it wasn't.

And it wasn't
cheap cologne.

It was expensive perfume.

You smell it now?

That's my girlfriend's.

You just missed her,
but she'll back me up.

She saw the gun,
same as me.

I'm telling you, it was there.

She was at the hospital
with you, too?

That whole night, yeah.

Except for when she ran home
to get me a clean shirt,

but she was only gone for...

How long?

An hour.

Maybe two.

What else, Jon?

I think I might have said
some things that night.

What'd you say?

Just stuff
about me...

and Midge and...

how... the bombing
might have made me realize

how much she meant to me.

Nice arm.

Jon?

Is that you?

Tony.

You nearly gave me
a heart attack.

Wh-What are you doing out here?

I was just following the little
pings off your cell phone,

wanted to ask you
the same question.

I w... I was just...

Getting rid of
the murder weapon?

Figured they'd already
dredged the pond,

they weren't gonna
do it again?

Turn around.

Wait, wait, Tony,

Tony, just wait, please?

Do you know what it's
like to love someone

who talks about someone
else constantly?

A woman that
he slept with?

I was the one, I was
the one in the ER with Jon.

I was... it was me,
listening to him go on and on

about how brave she was,
how amazing she was.

It's over. Let's go.
Okay, wait,

wait, wait.

Don't you want
to frisk me first?

Good night, Midge.

Sleep tight.

Felt good to have
you back, Doctor.

Yes, emphasis on
"felt," past tense.

But I am not
really back at all.

Well, felt like you were.

And once again,
it wasn't easy for me

to admit that
I needed your help.

Mr. Palmer, it took my ego
some time to subside,

allowing me to realize that
you are perfectly capable

of performing
those tests by yourself.

I recall a similar case
of anaphylaxis

that we dealt with
together,

almost three years ago.

Emphasis on "together."

Stop making it
so bloody difficult for me

to be angry with you!

What-what I need

is to feel useful again.

What I don't need
is anyone's charity.

Dr. Mallard...
Not...

that I don't appreciate your
misguided efforts, Mr. Palmer,

but I must take my leave.

And as for my return,

I believe I have
some serious thinking to do.

You might notice, Director,
that my report is not...

entirely finished.

Well, I knew Gibbs
would give you a hard time.

I see that he and Miss Sciuto
are listed as incomplete.

Is there anyone else?

That would be you, sir.

Mandatory psych evaluations
for the entire agency.

Yeah, I got the memo.

I'm just not so certain
that I need to be evaluated.

It's been brought
to my attention--

and frankly,
I've observed myself-- that...

you seem increasingly
irritable of late.

Brought to your attention
by whom?

You've clearly been taking
the disappearance

and death of Ms. Watkins...

more personally than most.

If I had one wish...

it would be to turn
the clocks back to...

to before.

Which would explain
your insistence

that everything
get "back to normal."

Even the color
of the paint.

You do know that...

without your car, Harper Dearing
would have found

another way to
plant his device.

But he didn't need to, did he?

I parked that car
in my driveway.

I drove my kids to school
in it that morning.

So...

when I think what being
that vulnerable could've cost,

I...

It's all right, Leon.

Everyone is safe.

And no one's
blaming you.

Gibbs! Gibbs!

Abbs.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.

You're welcome.
For what?

This is Kyle, my brother.

Kyle, this is who
I've been telling you about.

This is Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Hi, Kyle.

Thank you, Leroy.

I-It's Gibbs.
Call him Gibbs.

Who knew hugs
were in my blood?

Well, this is worth celebrating.
You want a beer?

Yeah.
Sounds good.

What a day.

Yeah, I'll drink to that.

I had a feeling when
I saw Abby last year,

we had a connection,
you know?

If it wasn't for you, she
might have never come back.

Not me.
It's all her.

It's a lot to take in,
that's for sure.

Having a sister you
never even knew existed.

Isn't that right, Abby?

To family.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==