"Hi." I step onto the elevator, seeing Tony standing in the middle of the lift.

He glances up in surprise, his eyes softening slightly. "H-Hey."

I stand closer to the doors, not wanting to invade his space and vice-versa. The elevator seems to be a bit slower than usual since it takes longer for the doors to close.

"Thanks for the, um, coffee you brought me yesterday." He clears his throat.

"Of course."

From behind me, I can feel the tension radiating off of his body, matching up with my own.

And just like that, he has me pressed against my wall, his hand cradling the small of my back as support. The elevator dings each time we pass a floor.

One.

"We really shouldn't be doing this." I mutter against his lips.

Two.

He flips us around so he's against the wall. "You didn't seem to mind the elevator rides back when we were still hooking up."

Three.

We pull away just as the doors open back up. I fix my hair a little before stepping out, rubbing my thumb against my bottom lip.

"Any updates, Kate?" I walk to my desk, dropping my bag on top.

"Gibbs sent McGee to a crime scene. Alone."

Tony beams brightly for some reason. "Probie got his first solo assignment? Gibbs just wants to see him screw up."

And there it is.

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

Gibbs comes in, commenting on Kate's root canal and how she better keep the dental appointment this time.

"DiNozzo." The boss hangs up the call with McGee. "Get the truck."

"Looks like we've got a case."

We arrive at the supposed crime scene where we're greeted by McGee and the young woman who witnessed the murder.

The five of us walk into the second-floor apartment. "You made the call." Gibbs turns to McGee. "What were you basing your decision on?"

"The, uh. . .credibility of the witness." He answers. "MIT graduate. Phi Beta Kappa. Builds computer models for DOD."

"We've all seen the credentials."

I nudge Tony in the ribs for that comment.

"That's it?"

"No. No, uh, to get a closer look at the assault, Erin used a camcorder with a 200-to-1 zoom lens."

Now we're getting somewhere. "Well, let's see the video."

"Well, she didn't actually, uh, start recording until after the men had moved away from the window, but it does show that the lights were on. When Metro Police got here, they were off."

Damn it, McGee.

McGee finally lets out a breath. "Boss, the truth?"

"That would be good." Gibbs nods his head.

"If there's one thing I've learned from you," McGee starts, "it's that sometimes an agent has to go with their gut."

"Okay." That seems to be enough for him. "What would you do now, McGee?"

When the junior agent struggles to come up with orders, Kate, Tony, and I just resort to our usual tasks at a crime scene: prints, shoot, observations.

Back at headquarters, Abby calls in with a possible something.

"I ran the only clean print from the apartment through AFIS." Abby dictates her process. "It belongs to Petty Officer First Class Keith Dillon, USN." She identifies the fingerprint.

"He your missing sailor, Kate?" Gibbs glances up from his computer.

To which she nods her head. "Dillon comma Keith. Sure is."

At first, McGee is excited to learn that his gut was right all along. But Gibbs reminds him that a sailor could quite possibly be dead.

We find ourselves back at Dillon's apartment to reenact the murder.

Tony wraps the belt around my neck, pretending to choke me like our victim. Erin corrects us here and there on the positioning.

Jokingly, he pulls me back to the ground, the belt still tight around my neck.

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

"Maybe this. . .will convince you." His hand wraps around my throat once again, pressing against the tracheal area.

"In exactly eight seconds, she will lose consciousness. From there, it will take precisely one minute to cause brain damage."

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

I gasp for air. "S-Stop. You're hurting. . .me."

As soon as he lets me go, I pull myself back up, trying to regain my breath.

"Eva, I didn't mean —"

"Just stop it, Tony."

We call the rest of the team back after Tony smells urine on the carpet. Using a blue light, we indeed find a stain. Within the convertible sofa, we find an empty wooden box and a silver briefcase containing a gun.

"Thanks for the ice, Abbs." I smile kindly while pressing the cold pack against my neck.

Abby perches herself on my desk. "What happened back there?"

"DiNozzo choked her, that's what happened." Kate answers for me, rubbing the right side of her face where she needs a root canal.

"I don't know what happened." I shake my head, sighing deeply. "He wasn't even really choking me. He was playing around. And my body just. . .I felt like I was gonna pass out."

"Playing around, my ass. The bruises on your neck prove otherwise."

Abby runs down to prepare everything for when Gibbs comes down, leaving me and Kate to report all we could find on Robert J. Thorne, a ghost at this point.

That afternoon, we're at another crime scene. A real crime scene. With a body and everything.

"Did I really do all that?" Tony gently lifts my chin up, examining the purple marks around my neck. "God, Eva, I didn't know I was being that rough."

I grab the equipment from the back of the truck. "It's fine. I just bruise easily."

"Want me to help you with the grid?" Tony offers kindly.

That's a first.

"No, I'm pretty sure I can do that on my own." I start to take out the things, but Tony just continues to stand there. "You know what? I'm, uh. . .sure. You can help me." With that, we get to work.

Afterwards, the two of us visit Petty Officer Dillon's girlfriend.

"Jill Meyers?" Tony flashes her his badge. "NCIS. Special Agents DiNozzo, Giudice." She continues to work throughout the bowling alley. "We'd like to talk to you about Petty Officer Keith Dillon."

I slip off my sunglasses. "When did you last see him?"

"A couple days ago." She finally faces us. "So how did you find out that I know Keith? Did he, um. . .he tell you?" Jill glances between the two of us.

"Petty Officer Dillon has been, uh, murdered." I break the news to her, something I hate doing.

"What?" She sniffles lightly while grabbing a bottle of disinfectant and walking around the counter. "What happened?"

"Well," I let out a breath, "that's what we're trying to figure out."

Tony takes over. "How long have you and Petty Officer Dillon been seeing each other?"

"Keith came in a couple months ago." Her voice cracks towards the end, but she isn't exactly crying. "So he's dead?"

"Yup." Tony pops his lips.

I nod towards the ring on her left hand. "And you're married."

"Your husband know about Keith?"

"Uh-uh." She shakes her head no. "He's, uh, he's in Iraq. Been there eight months."

We continue to ask her questions about her relationship with Keith and if her husband could have somehow found out about the affair.

"She was going to divorce her husband with a Dear John email?" I scoff in disbelief as the two of us walk out of the bowling alley. "See, she's the type of person that gives all women a bad rep."

Tony stuffs his PDA away. "I'm never getting married. There's no upside to it."

"But it must be nice to have someone who cares about you so much, they want to be with you for a whole lifetime." My fingers tug on the end of my sleeves. "Don't you think so?"

"I. . ." His eyes lock with my own. "Yeah."

Unfortunately, whoever killed Petty Officer Dillon kills Erin as well, with McGee sitting right across the street.

"Here." I drop off a cup of coffee at McGee's desk the next morning. "The only way you can catch this bastard is if you're well rested."

We have a hypnotist talk to McGee to try to get him to remember something — anything — from the previous night. And he does. He remembers the killer wearing a watch on his right hand.

Much like the apartment building manager, who happens to be our killer.

"You done for the night?" I kindly smile at Tony as he walks onto the lift.

He tosses a few peanuts into his mouth. "Yup."

The doors close, leaving the two of us alone.

Again.

"So, uh. . .we can't repeat what happened a couple days ago." Nervously, I scratch the back of my neck. "You're a lot older than me, and you're supposed to be like my teacher."

"Ever do it with a professor for extra credit?" His breath is hot against my ear.

I gently nudge him back to his place. "Of-Of course not." But my stupid voice fails me. "We need to draw a line somewhere."

"Would you like a marker to do that?" He mocks me.

"I hate you so damn much."

"Oh, you can only wish you did."