NCIS

Agent Gibbs?

Aah!

NCIS agent with two GSWs!

One to the chest, one to the knee.

Let's put him under and crack him.

10cc's of epi. He's crashing.

Might have to shock him.

You spend too much time

thinking about the past.

It's about the future now.

Bad people are still out there.

Rule 45-- what's that?

Clean up your own mess.

You know, everybody watching me,

afraid I'm gonna break. Are you?

I hurt.

Pain didn't go away.

Can't do it alone.

I've met your team.

Who says you're alone?

Do we need to talk?

It's remarkable.

I can't look away.

I mean, think about it. 25 years of dedication,

and cold turkey-- he gives up the polo shirts.

Factor in the new hair--

it's the makeover of the century.

No, there's no way around it. This man looks spectacular.

And can we take a minute to just talk about the new attitude?

Right, it's like you can't quite put your finger on it, right?

I want to say he's even more focused.

Yes, yes-- it's like he was laser focused before,

but now he's got the whole Real Genius atomic laser now.

I'm not quite sure what he's focused on, though.

Really, people?

Oh, come on, Tony.

You haven't noticed a change in Gibbs

since he got back from Iraq? Of course I have.

But I don't feel the need to analyze it

like some science project behind his back.

We always analyze Gibbs behind his back.

Take the pictures down, Tim. It's rude.

Okay, no reason to get snippy about it.

Look, he got shot.

He came back.

He's different. Who wouldn't be?

Physically, he's still got to be in a lot of pain.

I talked to him yesterday about it.

I told him whatever he needs. And he listened to you?

Well, he did that thing where he acts like he's busy,

his finger sort of wobbles over the shift key

and he's not really doing anything,

so I think he got the gist.

DiNozzo, what are you doing?

Oh, boss, I just...

The, uh...

They were sort of comparing your-your hairstyle...

It wasn't really about the hair. It was more...

Who are you?

Mitch, DEA, San Diego.

Need your help bringing in a wayward Marine.

Now, I have all the pertinent material on here--

photos and whatnot.

I believe you're the one to help me display those.

Am I right?

Uh, sure, yeah.

Thanks, buddy. Appreciate it.

Is this room okay for briefing?

Yeah, but you want something more secure,

we can get that.

The Marine in question is Sergeant Cole Gleason.

25 years old.

Small arms repair technician

in the middle of his three-week leave.

Says he has some kind of evidence

on a bad guy I've been chasing.

But he keeps waffling about turning it over.

We had a meet set for last night.

He stood me up.

Cold feet.

Next slide if you don't mind.

The aforementioned bad guy-- Benson Long.

My very own drug-running Moby Dick.

Now, Benson spent half his life in California

distributing dope of every flavor.

Three weeks ago, I tracked him to DC.

Got a little too close to him back home,

so now he's opening up an East Coast branch.

So I guess I'll just keep going with these pictures here, then?

Thanks, buddy. That'd be lovely.

This is Long.

Out and about in your neighborhood.

It's near Quantico.

He recruits military.

Military's all over it internally.

Our troops are trained to be the best of the best.

Cartels know it.

They lure our guys with big paydays.

That or fear tactics.

Now, I've seen Long employ both.

And Sergeant Gleason is one of his new recruits.

So new, in fact, I think I have a better shot at turning him

than anyone I've ever approached before.

So, you want to force Gleason to turn over his evidence?

What's the play? Poor money management.

Gibbs found that there was a case recently opened

on the sergeant for writing bad checks on base.

You're gonna arrest him and turn him against Long.

Leverage can do that sometimes.

Boss? Where do we pick up Gleason?

He's been giving me the cold shoulder

since yesterday's no-show, so I say we go to him.

He's been staying with Long in a house in DC.

Long's cousin owns the place.

Now, the house can get a little dicey,

lots of undesirables coming and going.

Glad to have you folks on board.

We're on it. Warrant came through. Let's move.

DiNozzo, stay here and keep digging.

What?!

Boss, are you benching me?!

I thought we were good!

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where are you going?

I let you in to talk, that's it!

Got a warrant for Sergeant Cole Gleason.

Yeah, I heard you the first time.

I said I don't know where he is.

Guys, up, over there. Hands on the table.

McGee, Bishop, clear back there?

Whoa, no, no, no, no. Hey! Hey!

I never said you could go back there!

Hey, this is my house!

Get over here.

I said this is my house!

Get over here now!

Am I standing in my own house or not?

Gun!

Get your hands

on top of your head!

I go take a leak and all hell breaks loose.

Roy, come on, be nice.

Agent Mitchell, good to see you again.

Don't mind my cousin.

He tends to lose sight of the big picture.

Roy gets worked up.

And he does like his guns.

He's clean.

Boss?

Place is clear.

No sign of Gleason.

Bag this.

Good to see you making new friends, Mitch.

Benson Long.

Yeah.

You're looking for the Marine.

He in trouble? Where is he?

You know, Long, afternoon gambling--

it's not a good look.

I got things to do at night.

Yeah, I bet.

Your Marine--

he left, cleared out his stuff last week.

So, unless there's a law against Hold 'Em for quarters,

there's nothing for you here.

This isn't over.

As far as I can see, it never got started.

Hey.

DEA case files sent over.

Know you're partial to paper.

I talked to Bishop.

Sergeant Gleason made a charge last week for a tune-up.

Told the mechanic he's planning to take a road trip.

Okay, let's call it what it is.

Cousin Roy didn't talk.

Long's poker club didn't talk.

There's no drugs in the house.

And without Gleason, we got nothing.

My office will say the same.

Maybe not.

Long keeps his operation compact.

DEA has way bigger fish.

I mean... I-I'm the only one on this.

They're gonna pull me first chance they get.

You know, my dad used to say,

"If it matters to someone,

it matters."

Smart guy.

You would've liked him.

He liked the ocean.

After he died, I asked my mom every day

when we were gonna go there to spread his ashes.

But she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

She kept saying, "Maybe tomorrow, mijo."

Nah, after a while,

I... I stopped asking her.

Started asking myself.

"Maybe tomorrow" gets old.

Your dad would be proud of who you are, what you're doing.

It's starting to feel like one slow, steady fail.