I walk towards the squad room, shuffling through some things in my purse. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind.

Of course, without knowing who my captor was, I grab their right hand and flip them onto their stomach, pinning them with their own arm. And then I realize it's just Tony.

"I see you've been. . .practicing." He grunts out in pain.

A sigh escapes my lips as I help him back up. "Damn it, Tony. You know better than to sneak up on me like that."

"Next time, I'll think twice." He leans forward to peck me on the lips. "Morning, sweetheart."

"Well, I guess you two finally got together."

Standing beside the monitor is Agent Paula Cassidy, one of our many acquaintances from prior cases.

And a close friend as of now.

"Nice to see you again, Paula." I greet her with a kind hug, which she instantly returns.

"I'd ask why Tony, but you make him somewhat tolerable."

The two of us laugh, and Tony joins in sarcastically. McGee stops by carrying in a tray of beverages, one of which is iced specifically for me.

I pluck the first one, gently sipping the cold yet refreshing liquid. "So, what were you guys doing before I came?"

"Kyle Boone." Paula nods towards the monitor near Gibbs' desk.

It displays a mugshot of the psychotic serial killer from the 1990s. I was only nine when the first victim was killed.

"That man ruined my childhood." Memories of the years fill my head. "He was only going after college-aged girls at the time, but the parents in my neighborhood banned any and all outdoor activities for months."

Tony stands behind me, but I can feel his tense stature. "Were you upset that boys wouldn't pull on your pigtails in elementary school?"

"You're the one to talk, Tony. After all, you're dating moi." I flash him a smirk.

"No regrets there." He settles down in his chair, accepting the warmth of his fresh coffee. "Paula's gonna be using your desk, by the way."

"And I'm fine with that." I nod my head. "But where am I supposed to sit?"

All he does is chuckle before pulling me towards him right into his lap. "Why, you get to sit in the best seat: my lap."

Moments later, Gibbs storms down the stairs from MTAC, clearly upset about something or someone. This prompts him to pick up Cassidy's bag and toss it to the vacant desk in the corner.

"Good discussion, DiNozzo."

"Right back at you, Giudice."

The four of us congregate around Paula's temporary desk as Gibbs walks around his desk. He cocks his pistol, preparing to leave.

"Where you going, boss?" Tony calls out to him.

Gibbs yells back. "Sussex State Prison, interview Kyle Boone. Be gone the rest of the day." And he's gone.

"I would love to meet whoever convinced Gibbs to do the interview."

Hours later, Gibbs still hasn't returned from the interview, leaving the four of us with nothing to do.

So we end up ordering takeout.

"Where is he, Timothy?" Ducky comes charging into the bullpen. "Where is Gibbs, damn it?"

Leaving no time to answer, the doctor moves onto Tony's desk and snatches the slice of pizza right out of his hand.

"Hey!" Tony shouts, frowning at his empty hand.

"Do you even know the difference between good and bad cholesterol, Tony?" He tosses it into the bin.

Tony gulps down some soda. "No, but I'm assuming it has something to do with taste."

"Bad is what came back on your last blood test." He moves onto me, ripping away the iced coffee.

"What was that for?"

Ducky looks between me and Tony, his finger raised sternly. "You two will thank me when you're my age."

"But you eat pizza all the time."

"And drink coffee."

"Exactly."

McGee, Tony, and I share looks of confusion as the doctor paces down the aisle.

"Now, where is Gibbs?"

"Sussex State Prison, interviewing Kyle Boone."

Ducky stops short of Gibbs' desk, glancing back at the mention of Boone. "He said he wasn't going."

"He wasn't. Not until the SecNav ordered him to."

Before we can continue discussing Gibbs' whereabouts, Tony receives a call from Gibbs and jots down the address of the Boone family farm. Within a fireplace inside, we find a photo album full of images of Boone's victims.

Some hours later down in the garage, the team awaits the arrival of Kyle Boone. A couple of agents take him up to an interrogation room.

The next morning, we return to find Boone in the same position as yesterday.

"When is Gibbs going to start his interrogation?" Paula looks over at me. "Because he might want to hurry. We only have 48 hours before Boone's scheduled to be executed."

I poke my tongue against my cheek, eyes widening slightly. "You should tell him that, Paula."

"Tell me what?" Gibbs carries in Abby's caffeinated drink.

"Nothing, Gibbs." My lips tighten as I snap back to the monitor broadcasting Boone's interrogation room.

"Check on Boone's security detail, you two." He nods at me and Paula. "Go on."

"Let's go." I lead her towards the elevator, where we step inside and wait for the doors to shut.

"You totally knew he was coming our way."

"Of course I did. But who am I to stop you?"

We return to our own desks, although my desk phone decides to stop working. So I use Tony's temporarily.

"Yeah, just send him up with an escort." I nod my head to myself. "I'll be sure to tell Gibbs of his arrival."

"Looks like Santa Claus came early this year."

Behind me stands Tony, his hands placed on his lips and his eyes boring into mine.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

"Telephone won't work, so I thought I'd use yours." I stand to my feet, my fingers grazing over the collar of his shirt. "You don't mind, do you?"

He swallows back a few thoughts. "Not at all."

"Good. Because I'd hate to be a bother."

"You're not a bother, Ev." His hand touches the back of my neck as he sits me back down in his chair. "Although I'd prefer it if you sat at your own desk." There's always a catch.

With that, he whisks me back to my desk, dropping me off — literally — into my own chair.

Situating his chair back behind his desk, Tony props his hands behind his head. "I like the view from here."

"Of course you do."

Once McGee and Abby retrieve the location of the murders, the four of us head on out. In the clearing, we find another body.

"Alright, I'm not getting a signal from down here." No matter how many times I try, the call never seems to go through. "I'll head on up to the truck, see if I can get a better signal up there."

Tony takes out his camera. "Tell Gibbs we're gonna need everything and everyone on this one."

I run up the steep hill back towards the truck. Once I hit two bars, I dial Gibbs' number again.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

His voice is a bit staticky, but it's a lot better than nothing. "Gibbs, we found the dumping grounds."

"Good work." He praises. "Tell Tony he needs to call —"

"We have another body, Gibbs. Female, dead for no more than a week. She's got the heart carved into her back. Possibly a copycat killer." I walk through the long stalks of grass, the truck now visible.

Suddenly, the only thing I can hear is static.

"Gibbs? Gibbs, can you hear me?"

The line goes dead before I can get an answer.

"God, damn —"

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The trunk door swings open, just before someone rips the tape off my lips. My vision is blurred from the lack of oxygen within the tight space.

"Hello."

I am met with the eyes of Boone's lawyer, Adam O'Neill. He chuckles lightly, tilting his head to the side mockingly.

Seconds later, he is dragging me out of the trunk through the rough hay in the family farm.

"What the hell did you. . ." My head throbs in pain, "do to me?"

He lets his fingers run over my cheek and jaw. "I hit you in the head with a shovel, my dear."

"You-You killed that woman, didn't you? The one we found in the clearing?"

"I did." He walks away, out of my line of sight.

"Care to tell me how many more you killed, O'Neill?"

"There was one, and another one, and another one, and another. . ." He counts them off on his hand. "You will make five."

He uses his Polaroid to snap pictures of me.

"How did Boone convince his lawyer — of all people — to become his accomplice?"

"Do you really think I'm Boone's lawyer by coincidence? Come on!"

Snap!

"See, I sought Boone out. So I could learn from him. So I could learn from the best."

He pulls me up by the collar of my blouse, just enough so his mouth is in line with my ear. "And you are my graduation present."

Underneath, I feel a particularly sharp object poking my back. When I wrap my fingers around it, I realize it's a piece of glass.

Before I can register what's happening, O'Neill gives a particularly strong kick to the stomach, knocking me onto my back.

He rips open my blouse, leaving me exposed in my bra.

"You know, you can scream if you want to. It's allowed."

Snap!

With his back turned, I slide the sharp edge of the glass against the rope, carefully cutting into the fine fibers.

"Kyle says he wants Gibbs to remember him for a long, long time." He examines each knife in his collection before picking one. "So you and me. . ."

He taps the knife against his head.

"We're going to take this slow."

And. . .now.

With my hands untied, I roll onto my feet, punching him straight in the face.

"How did you —"

Rather than finishing his sentence, he chooses to lunge at me with the knife, It slices into the skin of my shoulder, but I kick him back a moment later.

"Next time, do not choose an N.C.I.S. agent as your last victim."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"Do you think she screamed when he cut her tongue out, Jethro?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Gibbs gives me a nod, and I walk out of the back room. There's some medical tape against a cut above my brow. And a sling to support my dislocated shoulder.

"I'm afraid your lawyer's going to miss your execution tomorrow." McGee pities sarcastically.

Tony shrugs his shoulders meekly. "He's kind of dead."

"Hope you enjoy your time in hell."