NCIS

What's your 20, partner?

Something's not feeling right.

Here we go.

Do you not respond to calls?

Not when my hands are full of cocoa and Cronuts.

I found this great all-night diner

right around the corner.

As only you can.

-I do have a knack for snacks. -Mm.

And, hey, that's rhyme number three.

Oh, you're on a roll, Kendrick.

So... what's not feeling right?

Oh. I don't know.

Just the usual stakeout paranoia.

About?

You know that spooky feeling that

somehow you're the one being watched?

Much as I hate to admit it,

stakeouts give me the willies, too.

Uh... who's this?

Is that...

-Torres? -The hell? Nick?

Oh, whoa.

-Get away from her. -Nick, what are you doing?

Don't touch her!

-Get away! -Nick!

Whoa!

Good morning, gentlemen.

"Gentlemen." Wow.

That's a nice way to start the day.

Yeah, and a great day it is, McGee.

Uh, Director Vance called me in early today

to offer me a pretty sweet opportunity.

Don't tell us you're leaving again.

Oh, no, not a chance.

Uh, though it does involve some special training

for future missions with NCIS Elite.

-Nice. That's great. -Hey, hell yeah.

They're starting up the-the task force again, so...

I still can't believe it.

Well, you should. You deserve it.

Yeah, and if it couldn't be me,

I'm glad it was you.

What do you mean?

Oh, uh, Vance offered it to me, too, but I had to say no.

Wait, is that why he kept you in his office after we left?

That is exactly why.

You're not actually implying that the only reason

why Vance offered me the job was because you turned it down?

No, no, no, no, no.

That's not, that's not what I meant. That's...

You deserve it, of course. Nah, like...

I-I shouldn't have said anything.

And yet, you did.

Dead petty officer in Arlington. Let's do this.

Jess, I didn't mean it that way.

No, it's fine.

We're fine. I'm fine.

Uh, Parker got the Bandium, too.

I guess he's gonna meet us there.

Already?

Yeah, you'd think the guy would take

a few more personal days after everything he went through.

Trust me, I'm better off

busy at work than resting at home.

You know, idle hands and all that.

Yeah, sure, I get it.

-Yeah, me, too. -Me, three.

And Vance is cool with it?

I didn't even ask.

So, anyway, who's our victim?

Petty Officer Third Class

Steven Keogh, 24 years old.

Stationed out of Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling.

Hey, Nick, give me a hand here?

Keogh was listed as U.A. at 0700 after failing

to report for duty.

Ugh, what a mess.

Poor kid must've hit the pavement hard.

Back alley brawl?

Uh, no, his hands are too clean.

Maybe he got sucker punched.

You smell any alcohol?

No, I don't.

Uh, drugs, maybe?

Not with that baby face.

Uh, Agent Sawyer.

Agent Parker, good to see you back.

Idle hands, am I right?

Since when does the night crew get our Bandium alerts?

Oh, we do not, McGee.

Safe to say the NCIS

day and night crews still receive separate Bandiums.

Then what brings you out here, Dale?

Well, Nicky-boy, I was just driving past after a long night

of chasing down clues on a possible blackmail case.

Mm, sounds exciting.

Not as exciting as this.

And in broad daylight, no less.

Well, this seems a little past your bedtime.

That depends.

What, you think maybe there's a connection?

If there is, we'll let you know.

Well, what do we know so far?

What we know so far, Sawyer,

is that this is our case to figure out. The A-Team.

Oh, come on. I thought we were past

all that perfect nemesis crap.

Oh, no, we are. No, we're all Gucci.

No more, uh, frenemies.

I just think that the B-Team should stick to blackmail.

I'd quit while you're ahead, Sawyer,

because, uh, Nick is on a roll today.

Well, Knight, since you're the only

cool member of the A-Team, I may just take that advice.

What, you're saying that we're not cool?

As much as I hate to interrupt this, uh,

mature conversation...

-What's up, Jimmy? -Uh, couple things.

What appears to be blood

seeping from our petty officer's nose

is also coming out of both of his ears.

That can't be good.

What, did you say, "What appears to be blood"?

Yeah, that's the second thing.

I don't think this is just blood at all.

What do you think it is?

Uh, mind you, I still have to get him back to autopsy

to confirm it, but it looks an awful lot to me like...

brain matter.

-Brain matter? -From his nose?

From his ears?

Whoa. Uh...

I don't do nose-brain, okay?

Peace out, A-Team. Have a great day shift.

Yeah, he doesn't do brains at all.

I wish I had more answers, but this one really has me stumped.

Not many brain matter nosebleeds in your vast experience?

Or what did Sawyer call it?

Nose-brain. And no, I haven't seen it.

His-his frontal lobe is so swollen,

it's practically liquified his cerebral cortex.

And what the hell would cause that?

That's what I'm hoping a little more

of his blood will tell us.

Here you go.

What's it telling you so far?

Not enough.

Blood alcohol is .03%, so maybe

a beer or two, but not enough to be drunk,

a-and I'm not finding any genetic red flags

that would cause this, so...

Oh, finally.

Torres tracked down the wife.

Jess, you coming?

Actually, I was hoping she could help me comb through

last night's traffic-cam footage

near where the dead body was found.

All right, sounds good. Keep me posted.

Will do.

Traffic-cam footage? Really?

Yes, really. But also, I need to know how long

we plan on keeping Parker in the dark.

How long are we planning?

It was your idea not to tell him.

And I never said it was a good idea.

Look, I care about Parker. These are hard secrets to keep.

No, no, no. I've reframed it, Kasie.

They're not secrets at all.

Okay, we're protecting a friend who's just lost his father.

Parker doesn't need to know what we know

until we're sure about, you know, what we know.

And to be extra sure, what do we know?

Oh, there are major discrepancies

between the autopsy report on Parker's mother

and her death certificate.

How major?

Uh, well, enough that, until I can verify

the handwritten notes from the old M.E.,

there's no way I can tell Parker.

And the same with what we know... or rather don't know...

about the lipstick that was on that glass.

Still no DNA match?

Not to Carla Marino.

But somebody was drinking wine with Parker's dad

the night that he was murdered.

Until we know who...

Oh, that makes two secrets.

You just said they weren't secrets.

Okay, well, whatever they are,

I suggest we keep it between the three of us

until we get some more answers.

Yeah, or at least until Parker's had time

to recover from his loss.

Oh, gosh, I sure hope both come soon,

but okay, between the three of us.

Mm.

Are you looking for a pinky swear?

If there was ever a situation that called for it, this is it.

Where are you now, Mrs. Keogh?