NCIS (2003–…): Season 8, Episode 19 - Tell-All - full transcript

God, I feel like all we've seen
is snow for the last few months.

Well, it had to melt sooner or later.

Hey, look, aren't those trees
just, like, gorgeous?

Oh, yeah, amazing.

Did you know
they don't get Wi-Fi up here?

Scott, stop being a jerk.

And, come on,
the whole point of this trip

was to get away from this,
technology overload.

Right. Granola therapy.

It's called green therapy, idiot.

And you agreed to it weeks ago.

Oh, come on, Scott.
Look, it's a beautiful day.

Just take in the nature with me,
all right?

- Just...
- Jane!

Whoa.

You almost splattered nature
all over the windshield.

- Come on.
- What?

- Jane.
- Let's go, Scott. I want a picture.

Wow. She's beautiful.

Yeah, well, she's wearing a coat.
I'm not.

Can we please go back to the car?
It's freezing.

Shh.

Oh, my God. She's looking at us.

That's because we look really stupid
right now.

Scott.

Oh, my God.

Hmm.

Huh.

McGee,
tampering with someone else's mail

is a federal offense, is it not?

I believe it is, Ziva.

And we are federal agents.

So it would seem
it's our duty to arrest him.

- How do you know it's not mine?
- Because it's addressed to Gibbs.

Eagle eye, McGee.
What else do you see?

Tony, why are you trying to look
at Gibbs' mail?

Oh, come on. Isn't it obvious?
The raised calligraphy,

the paper that's made from a fabric
more expensive than Timmy's shirt.

Sorry. He got the same
wedding invitation last week.

- How would you know that?
I saw it.

Same fancy paper.
Same fancy handwriting.

Well, someone's being persistent.

Who would wanna invite Gibbs
to their wedding?

Yeah.
Guy's got worst wedding juju

than Billy Bob Thornton
and Larry King combined.

You are overreacting.

I, for one, would not mind having
Gibbs there when I get married.

Hypothetically.

I mean, you know, when I... Someday.
You know, if I...

It is not important.

Clearly.

So, what does your Ray
of sunshine think?

- We have not discussed it.
- I see.

Raymondo plays his cards
close to the vest?

Raymondo and I
have not discussed the future.

- We are taking it... slow.
Hmm.

- That's a very smart idea, Ziva.
- Thank you very much, McGee.

Taking love advice
from Agent Hotbritches there?

The man who makes
Belgravian princesses swoon

and hot blonde gamers overload.

How's that going, by the way?

How about you, Tony?

Seems like your libido
has been very satisfied lately.

Ha, ha.
- Are you taking it slow with anyone?

Nothing a cold shower in the agents'
locker room wouldn't cure.

More information than I wanna know.
Grab your gear.

- Where to, boss?
- Dead Navy lieutenant commander

outside of Shenandoah.

Come on. Let's go.

Beautiful spring day.

Not as nice as June, of course.

June's perfect
for all kinds of events.

Weddings.

Henry David Thoreau said
that spring was a natural resurrection.

Expression of immortality.

Well, Ducky, I think
Lieutenant Commander Patrick Casey

would beg to differ with you.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

Hon, where did you say
we're going to dinner?

Oh, hon, the commander cares little
about your evening plans, Mr. Palmer.

Yeah, Breena? Breena, I gotta go.

Have fun aspirating the bile.

I am so sorry.

Um, she likes to have someone
to talk to while she's embalming.

I think you should marry that girl,
Palmer.

Boss, found an ID
for Commander Casey.

- Defense Intelligence Agency.
- Secret keepers, huh?

Cash and credit cards are
accounted for. It wasn't a robbery.

- Okay, Duck.
- Time of death, approximately 11 p.m.

Multiple gunshot wounds. And this one
suggests hollow-point round.

I won't know for certain
until I get him back to autopsy.

You got an exit?

Uh, Agent McGee, would you help
Mr. Palmer roll the body, please?

Here we go.

I don't see any.

That's odd.

I mean, what goes in
should come out.

- Or not.
Gibbs.

I believe the commander
crawled trying to make it to the road.

I found a blood trail.

- From where?
Boss.

You should take a look at this.

Commander Casey left a message.

"Birdsong."

Looks like it's written
in his own blood.

What does "Birdsong" mean?

I wish I could help you,
Agent Gibbs,

but it could take weeks
for the Defense Intelligence Agency

to pore over Lieutenant Commander
Casey's assignments

to determine what can
and cannot be released.

Are you familiar with something
called Birdsong, admiral?

The commander, he wrote that
in his own blood before he died.

Nothing comes to mind.

It's gotta mean something.

Look, Casey was a good man
and a hell of an officer,

but we had limited interaction

and I couldn't possibly know
every detail of his involvement.

DIA pulls people
from different parts of the service.

Determined by expertise,
on a case-by-case basis.

This man's dead.

You think his expertise was related?

I wish I knew.

You said you wanted to help.

Of course.

I'm ready when you are.

What are you suggesting,
Agent Gibbs?

I don't know, sir.

You're the one
with all those I-was-there ribbons.

You'll be in touch?

Boss, Metro P.D. found Casey's car
abandoned outside a restaurant.

Unlocked, keys on the ground,
cell phone smashed.

- Looks like he was jumped.
- Have McGee dig into Casey.

And find me Birdsong.

Cellular communication,
text messaging, squeaking.

- It's tweeting, doctor.
- Huh?

Like the yellow canary
and the puddy tat.

I used to love that cartoon.

These distractions feed
the ever-growing beast

known as instant gratification.

I promise it will never happen again.

I'm gonna call Breena
and let her know...

- No.
- No?

Well, yes. No.
You're completely missing the point.

If you keep in constant contact
with your lover,

she will get to know you too well.

Hmm.

- I don't follow.
- You lose the thrill of discovery.

The mystery of not knowing.

Secrets, if handled properly,
can be extremely alluring.

Ah, Jethro,
I was just telling Mr. Palmer

the benefits of self-restraint.

Just tell me what you've got, Duck.

I've determined the type of rounds
used to kill the lieutenant commander.

He was shot six times
with frangible ammunition.

Each bullet was made
of sintered copper,

designed to disintegrate into powder
and fragments upon impact.

Yeah, the dispersal of these,

accounts for the extensive damage
beneath the dermis.

And as there was no residue
on his clothing

to indicate that the shooter
was close...

We're looking for a weapon
that fires frangible ammo at a distance.

It's rare, Duck.

Yeah, anything more specific
will have to come from Abby.

I already brought some fragments
up to her.

Yeah, whatever her findings,
it's an odd choice of weapon.

I mean, either the killer
was unfamiliar with the weaponry

or, well, maybe he wanted
this poor fellow to suffer great pain.

Or both.

Lieutenant Commander Patrick Casey.

Born in Pensacola, Florida.

His parents were career Navy.
Both are now deceased.

Patrick followed in their footsteps.
DIA kept him traveling,

but unfortunately,
his destinations remain classified.

- You lose something, DiNozzo?
- No, boss.

- Did you find something?
- No.

Oh, about the...

Uh, yeah, the waiter at the restaurant
where Casey's car was found said

that he dined with a woman.
Uh, wasn't a date, though.

They shook hands
at the end of the meal.

Then she left, Casey stayed
until just before closing.

- Waiter's working with a sketch artist.
- Tim, talk to me.

Boss, I am knee-deep
in DIA servers here.

Listen to this. Three days ago,
the department's general counsel

got their hands on a manuscript
they had heard of,

a potential leak
of classified military information.

Yeah. And?

The title of the manuscript
was Operation Birdsong.

Somebody looking to publish it?

Capitol Crossroads Press. A publishing
house run by Madeleine DuMont.

A book like this could take her
imprint to the next level.

What's the connection to the case?

Nothing yet.
But there's only one way to find out.

Find the publisher, McGee.

Miss DuMont.

Well, why me?

You're the writer, right?

- Tony.
- Ziva.

You're in the women's shower,
fully clothed

and you are holding Gibbs' mail.

What's your point?

That letter is not for you to read.

I know. But there's so many questions
to be answered.

The happiest day in someone's life,
and they need Leroy Gibbs

to seal the deal?
It doesn't make any sense.

Right. So be honest.

Surely you would want Gibbs there
at your wedding.

Well, I don't know if a head slap
coming down the aisle

is the ideal Kodak moment.
Maybe you're right.

Okay, so I have a question.

Have you seen Agent Barrett?

No.

- Why do you keep asking about her?
- I've only asked you once.

Hmm.

- Why here?
- Ha, ha. You mean in the shower?

Because I have seen her here,
I guess. She intrigues me.

Does she intrigue you?

Well, I can't really...

Hmm.
She must be assembling her team.

- I wonder when she's due back.
- Me too.

Pardon me?

I should stop this.

You should stop what, exactly?

This.
Everyone deserves their privacy.

Even Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Ha, ha.

See you.

Have we met?

Um, no. No. Never. Absolutely not.

I rarely forget a face.

And there are some very
interesting ones in the book world.

Yours is memorable.

I... I am not in the book world,
Miss DuMont.

You run out of words, McGee?

Come on. You're a writer.
Find some.

Who is this?

Another agent?

Another special agent.

- Gibbs.
- Delightful.

More feds. Who knew I'd be a threat
to national security.

We're not the first agents
you've seen?

I've had half a dozen DIA agents
in and out of my office for days.

What did DIA want?

What the government does best.

Meddle in the affairs
of small businesses.

They confiscated a manuscript
we're about to publish.

All hard copies and digital files.

The title of this book wouldn't happen
to be Operation Birdsong?

The very same.

They even sent an admiral,
if you can believe that.

Hindley. Awful man.

Said it was for reasons
he couldn't disclose.

What's it about?

Weapon sales. Corruption.

Intrigue.

A lot of unfortunate people involved.

You should read it.

Who's the author?

An anonymous
former intelligence operative.

That's all I told Hindley
and that's all I'm telling you.

The freedom to write anonymously
is protected by the First Amendment.

Yeah. I know
about the First Amendment, McGee.

If you want me
to disclose the author's name,

you're gonna have to prove to a judge

that the book does pose a threat
to national security.

Hindley wasn't exactly eager to share
its contents, even with a judge.

And since you don't have a copy...

No, no words.

Just a picture.

Miss DuMont,

this book may be related
to a murder we're investigating.

His name is
Lieutenant Commander Patrick Casey.

You know him?

Yes.

He was one of two people sent
an advance copy.

Author's request.

Who's the other one?

Read a book, die mysteriously.

I'm not buying it.

Only happens with cursed videotapes,
you know.

Like in that movie The Ring,
or the original Ringu.

Okay, thank you, McGee.

So, um, McGee just called
Elise Archer's office at the FBI.

She did not go to work today
and she is not picking up her phone.

Ha, ha. Playing hooky, huh?

I would never do that.
Agent Archer. NCIS.

Elise Archer?

Tony.

Elise Archer was an expert
in anti-domestic terrorism stings.

Set up phony weapons buys
for home-grown extremists.

Made the arrest before anyone
was put in any real danger.

She was a good agent, great baker.

You should have had her baklava.

Duck, talk to me.

This nylon rope
used to strangle Agent Archer

was the same that was used

to bind Lieutenant Commander
Casey's hands.

- Murders are related.
Probably.

And Agent Archer was killed
after the lieutenant commander.

Cause of death
was almost certainly asphyxiation

based on this petechial hemorrhaging
and the ligature marks on her neck.

- But...
But?

I hate that but.

There are no defensive wounds.

And with a strangulation,

one would expect her
to wrestle with her attacker,

fight to save her life.

And yet here, nothing.

It's almost as if she just gave up.

That doesn't sound like Archer.
She was a fighter.

She worked hard
to get where she was.

DIA?

Loaned out a few months last year.

Covert ops. Above my pay grade.

Boss, Archer does match the sketch

of the woman
who had dinner with Casey last night.

And I also found this.

The husband works as a paramedic
for a D.C. - based ambulance company.

Been on a 14-hour shift since
last night. Ziva's tracking him down.

I never met him.

She always said nice things.

Hey.

You get an invitation
to Diane's wedding?

Yeah. I got three.

Three.

- Woman always was persistent.
- Tobias, she was a pain in the butt.

- You going?
- Are you?

Hey, boss, someone set a fire
in here recently.

Could be the remnants of our book.

Bag it, McGee. Get it to Abby.

You really think this is the reason
for both murders?

I don't know. I have to read it first.

You know, Jethro,

if it weren't for Diane,

we wouldn't have
the kind of relationship

that we have.

Tobias, you've always been
a glass-half-full kind of guy.

Never have to pay alimony again.

I can't believe Elise is gone.

She, uh, was always worried
about me, you know?

Said I was the one
with a dangerous job.

Rocketing through the D.C. streets
in the middle of the night.

Junkies wielding syringes.

She was just a paper-pusher
at the bureau.

Or at least that's what she told me.

She couldn't talk about her work much,
and I didn't ask too many questions.

Who did this to her?

Mr. Archer, there has been
another murder besides your wife,

and we think that the two
might be connected

by a book they were reading.

- A book?
Operation Birdsong.

That was on Elise's nightstand.

She'd been reading it
the past couple days.

Said it was about a weapons deal
or something.

How does a stupid book
get my wife killed?

Hold this, will you?

Thought you were gonna buy me
a nice lunch.

- What?
- Nothing.

I'm just thinking about the day
I married Diane.

- Why?
- Stirred-up memories.

Oh, ha, ha, yeah. Well, bad ones.

Not really.

Our heads were in the clouds.
We were giddy kids. We were in love.

- Oh, you probably had the flu.
- Oh, come on, Jethro.

Before it got bad, there must
have been some good times.

She caught her finger
in a car door once.

Hey, Abs. Got your book.

Oh, great.

You know, it's supposed to be burned
after reading, not before.

I'm having flashbacks
of high school English class.

Fahrenheit 451.

Which had
the unintended consequences

of igniting my interest
in arson science.

- No pun intended.
- Abby.

Um, okay. I ran the frangible ammo

that Ducky pulled
from Lieutenant Commander Casey

through every weapons database
that I could access.

- And?
- And nothing.

But that's not possible.
I know that's not possible.

So I said to myself:

"Self, why would the weapon used
not be in any weapons database?"

- And you know what self said?
- Because it's a prototype.

Precisely. I give you the Flint S.C.R.

Manufactured by Praeger Industries
and developed for the DoD.

They ended up pulling funding

after significant flaws
were found in the design.

Under-penetration of the ammo
was noteworthy.

What happened to the gun
after the money was pulled?

I wish I could tell you,
but the rest of Praeger's records,

they're classified by the DIA.

A lot of that going around lately.
That's good work.

Hit the books.

You mean the ashes.

McGee, I do hope
you have something.

Big time, boss.
Madeleine DuMont just called.

She finally recognize you?

She heard Elise Archer is dead.
She's afraid she's next.

Publisher.
Got a reason to be concerned.

Offer her the safe house.
Get her here.

Boss, it's too late.

She took a plane to Argentina.
She panicked.

She's got friends there.
Thought it was a good idea.

Can't protect her in Buenos Aires.

It's her decision.
Who else has read this book?

Got it.

You know anybody in Argentina?

I want that author.

- Hello?
- Miss DuMont?

I need that author's name. Now.

Marine First Lieutenant Sam Keeler.

Recently discharged.

Did you write a book,
Operation Birdsong?

- Maybe.
- Certainly picked the right publisher.

She sang like a canary.

She promised me anonymity.

Yeah, well,
she probably saved your life.

Who are you hiding from?

Hey, you know what, Keeler?
You can leave. I don't care.

Miss DuMont called me
after DIA confiscated the manuscript.

Now, look, I don't follow.
How does NCIS fit in?

- FBI as well.
- It's an alphabet party.

Where were you last night?

Where I've been the past week.

Keeping my head down.
Staying with friends.

Right where your agents
tracked my cell phone.

Look, what's going on?

Is this about my book?

Yeah.

Have you read it?

No.

But they have.

Operation Birdsong. What was it?

The three of us

were part
of a joint anti-terrorism task force.

Patrick and Elise worked point.
I was undercover.

We were assigned to Cyprus.

The farmers there, they'd blast
recordings of birdsongs at night

to lure them into large nets.

That's what we were doing.

Only we weren't going after birds.

We were trying
to catch terrorist groups.

That why Archer
was brought into it?

We'd take the groups down by staging
the sale of black-market weapons.

- Used a prototype the DoD rejected.
- The Flint.

Casey. Archer.

- You think my book got them killed?
- I don't think. I know.

Look, I was just trying to do
the right thing.

And they thought I was too.

- Are you a whistle-blower, Keeler?
- Read it yourself.

I still have an original
on a hard drive.

- Where?
- Hidden.

In a storage locker. Safe.

You thought you were safe, right?

We found you.

Yeah, boss.
- Hey, we found the book.

Diane. What number wife was she?

I think Diane was number two.

She's three. Or is she four?

She was the redhead.

They're all redheads.

This is why I'm getting married
only once.

I think McHefner here goes
at least two rounds.

- Maybe three.
- Uh, I'm sure McGee will find

the right woman.
Unlike some people.

Nothing wrong with
playing the field, David.

Ha, ha. That depends
on which field you're playing, Tony.

Keeler said he was Locker 37.
It's gotta be around here.

- Yes, isn't that the admiral?
Must be DIA.

Hey, excuse me, guys?

You booby-trap your own locker?

No.

Archer and Casey are dead.

Three DIA agents
are in the hospital.

- What's in the book?
- This isn't my fault.

I had DuMont to send
the manuscript to Patrick and Elise.

I just wanted their approval.

You were discharged early.
After Birdsong. Why?

I always wanted to be a Marine.

And not just a good one. The best.

I followed orders, towed the line.
No questions asked.

- Okay, what changed that?
- Birdsong.

How?

Our orders were to target
specific arms dealers in the region.

Local jihadists.

Turns out, the entire op
was a massive waste

of money and resources.

- How?
- They messed up.

Sit down.

Who messed up?

Somebody near the top.

Over 500 Flint rifles went missing.
Gone.

I was the field op,
so the ax fell on me.

A few weeks later, Casey sent me
some intelligence reports

from units stationed in Afghanistan.

Insurgents were using our weapons
to wipe out entire villages.

Innocent people.
Women and children.

You know what the brass said?

"Accidents happen."

I may not be able to serve my country
as a Marine anymore,

but that doesn't mean
I can't serve it.

Writing that book,

that was my duty.

- Anything?
- No.

Yes. Yes. No. No, go back, McGee.

Tony, you're hogging
all the end pieces.

That's because I start
with the end pieces.

Haven't you ever done
a puzzle before? You go out to in.

Have you ever done
a puzzle before?

Because you work in to out.

Will you guys stop?
I'm trying to read here.

Why would she invite
two ex-husbands?

Here he goes. Tony, you have already
learned who sent out the invitation.

Leave it at that. How would
you like it if I knew all your secrets?

- I don't have any. I'm an open book.
- Just give me the CliffsNotes.

Once at summer camp, there were
these twins named Marcy and Lois.

- It's a long story.
Abby.

Um, okay.

Fortunately, Keeler's hard drive
was insulated in a loaded footlocker.

Unfortunately, it's still a little fried.

Um, here is what I've... What we
have managed to put together.

So far, it supports everything
Keeler has told you.

The task force, Cyprus,
arms dealers. All of it.

Nothing new?

Well, these are the arms dealers
targeted by the task force.

Small fish in a big pond,
just like Keeler said.

On the surface, it seems harmless.

Or as harmless
as an arms dealer can be.

But as a whole,
there's a pattern here.

It's a pattern Keeler didn't even see.

As each one of these dealers
were eliminated,

their business
had to move elsewhere.

So we've been tracking terrorist chat
in and out of Cyprus.

Okay, and get this.

In the last year,
almost all of the weapons trafficking

has been swallowed up
by one arms dealer.

A dealer named Jinn.

No one's ever seen Jinn.

That's a supernatural being
from Arab folklore. Like a genie.

So you're saying that this Jinn profited
from Operation Birdsong?

- Big time.
- Abs, you find anything in the book

- about who's running the show?
I got something there, boss.

"As pressure mounted,
he would nervously clear his throat,

choking on his own guilt."

Fully recovered, admiral?

Special Agent Gibbs.

Bringing me flowers?

Are you Jinn?

I don't know what you're talking about.
Who's he?

Fornell. FBI.

The more the merrier.

Sir, I took the liberty
of perusing your bank accounts.

It's not bad on a government salary.

- What are you insinuating?
- I also pulled your cell phone records.

You received a text message
from a burn phone last night

guiding you
to Keeler's storage locker.

Somebody sent you into a trap.

Your buddy Jinn
tying up loose ends?

Jinn paid you for those guns.

All you had to do
was cash his check.

Blackmail?

Or are you just that greedy?

Now, you don't have to say anything.
I know I wouldn't.

I'll bet you didn't count on Jinn
trying to cover tracks, though.

Burn the book,

take out everyone involved,
even you.

Where's Jinn? Local?

It's all done via computer.

But I can tell you where she is.

She?

This is who the admiral was afraid of?
A college coed?

Mark Zuckerberg
created a social network.

Why can't Alexis Ross organize
a hundred-million-dollar arms trade

from her college dorm room?

Hmm. According to Keeler,
he never knew who brokered the sale.

Hmm.

She's sort of a combo platter
of Reese Witherspoon

from Legally Blonde
and Russell Crowe from The Insider.

- She's dangerous.
- And kind of cute.

Oh, come on, Tony.
She sells weapons.

From her dorm room.

With a minor in Phys Ed maybe?

So how long will this take?

I have an Econ paper due tomorrow
and the prof doesn't give extensions.

One hour ago, my people picked up

a small-time hood
named Charles LeBaron.

Forty minutes later,
he confessed to planting explosives

in a self-storage facility
after you paid him to do it.

On your computer we found names,
locations

and routing numbers
for known terrorists.

How did a sweet little thing like you
get wrapped up in all this?

Evidence points to you.
You bulletproof, Jinn?

Did she just sigh at Gibbs?

Yes, she did.

You might wanna play back my
confusion later, Special Agent Gibbs.

Your accusations sound
a little crazy.

You want crazy?

Crazy is a college kid
sitting in her dorm

with her posters on the wall
and her music blaring,

making money off of weapons
that kill innocent people.

Question.

If that were true, how is that different
from government types

who put weapons in the hands
of private contractors,

the mujahideen, and the Somalis?

You think
I'm some messed-up teenager

grasping for a cause?

Yeah, I think those pretty pink nails
are plenty dirty.

Sorry.

I'm just a sweet little thing.
Remember?

These two murders
will put you away for life.

Go for it. Try to connect the dots.

I've been studying for days,
and I certainly didn't kill anyone.

She's gotta be the one. I mean, maybe
she didn't do it with her own hands,

- but she planned it. She paid for it.
- Nope. Definitely not her.

Miss Poison Ivy League.

Whoa. It's like Lisbeth Salander
meets scary Katy Perry.

Abs?

She's not the killer, Gibbs.
She's not our killer.

I scrubbed through every byte
of her computer.

She's been a very bad girl.

She may be an arms dealer
and may have blown up the locker,

but she only got a digital copy

of Lieutenant Keeler's book
from Hindley yesterday.

Casey and Archer
were already dead.

The bad girl couldn't have known
the book was a threat.

So if the arms deals are not the reason
for the murders, then what is?

I think that's probably
the same cinnamon roll

that's been here
ever since I first started.

It's looking pretty good to me
right now.

First one in, last one out.

Hoo-rah.

So I read your book.

I got a copy of it
off of Alexis' computer.

I almost read the whole thing

before I realized
I missed the most important part.

Dedication page.

For E.A. with love,

and thanks for the happiest days
of my life.

I got this off your hard drive.

Why didn't you tell us
you had an affair with Elise Archer?

It didn't seem right, respectful,
now that she's gone.

You know, I got this for her.
It's made from sea glass.

When we returned to the States,
she gave it back.

I understood, you know.
She had her life, a husband.

I just thought
maybe if I waited long enough...

Now I'll never know.

Yeah, it's Gibbs.
Gibbs, I've got something.

- Yeah, Abs.
I'm in my lab.

Yeah, I'll be right down.

You knew enough to love her,
lieutenant.

That's all that matters.

- Abs?
- It's sux, Gibbs.

What sucks?

Oh, no. It doesn't suck. It...
It is sux. S-U-X.

I had to run
three different blood samples

through mass spec to find it.

I found minute traces
of succinylmonocholine

in Agent Archer's blood.

That's a by-product
of the muscle relaxant

suxamethonium chloride a.k.a. sux.

It just... It breaks down really easily
in the blood.

- That's why I missed it two times.
- Okay, so?

So the dose that Agent Archer
was given was so strong

that she was temporarily paralysed.

That's why Ducky didn't find
defensive wounds.

It's not that she didn't fight.

- She couldn't fight.
- Which definitely sucks.

- Where does someone get this?
- Okay, here's the kicker.

There's so many
undesirable side effects

that it's relegated to only one specialty.
Emergency medicine.

Hello?

- You take us to the wrong address, J?
No.

Man in distress. Says this is it.

That's me. I'm in distress.

Or maybe I'm just hungry.
I don't know. It's hard to tell.

I don't understand.
What are you doing here?

We're here to see you, Derrick.

Archer, what's this about?

- Nothing, Jonny. Nothing.
I disagree.

Did you tell your partner
to take some time a few nights ago,

spend a couple hours with his girl
off the clock?

He said no one would know.

Yeah.

Jon, go get a coffee.

You asked us
why the book got your wife killed,

but you already knew.

Took the copy
right off her nightstand.

What was that dedication again?

- "For E.A., with love and thanks..."
- "For the happiest days of my life."

Derrick Archer,
you're under arrest for murder.

I gave her a chance to come clean,
but she denied it.

Said it was just a coincidence.

She lied to me,
just like she was always lying to me

about the job, about the traveling.

So you followed her. Saw she
was having dinner with Patrick Casey.

We picked up your ambulance
on a traffic cam half a block away.

Same time they were eating.

He got what he deserved.

- And so did she.
- Yeah, well you got the wrong guy.

Because Casey didn't write the book.
He didn't have an affair with your wife.

They were tracking down
missing guns. Elise found one.

Brought it home.
A rifle. One of a kind.

My agents just found it in your garage
with your prints all over it.

You want a tip?

If you got a problem with your wife,
get a divorce.

- Why are you two just sitting there?
- We're waiting.

- Waiting for what?
- To see what happens.

To see what happens to whom?

Tonight's the big night, Ziva.
The moment of truth.

The dawn before the big day.
Does Gibbs, the grim reaper of love,

show up at the rehearsal dinner
of his ex-wife, or no?

It's none of your business, DiNozzo.

- You headed out, boss?
- Yeah. I've got a couple things to do.

Toasts are my specialty.

If you need me...

- Got it, boss.
- Of course.

He's going.

Hey, we're already an hour late.
You're not even dressed.

You're not going.

I was never going.

Who the hell am I trying to kid?
I don't wanna go either.

- She'll understand.
- Ha. Yeah, right. Like hell.

Good point.
You know who the new guy is?

Homeland Security.

She'll never learn.

So, what now?
I'm all dressed up, nowhere to go.

- You just gonna keep working?
- Yep.

Until the pizza comes.

Pepperoni and onions?

Mm-hm.

It's on me.

Hey, Gibbs.

I just gave away the bride.

You have a beautiful daughter,
Tobias.

Break out the mason jars.
I'll drink to that.

Amen.