Chapter 4, or Eric gets chewed by DiNozzo

"So what you're saying is, I'm a moron?"

"No, I'm just saying you're wrong," Tony calmly replied.

Oh, this was getting on Eric's nerves. After he had stopped the feeling of the floor inverted over his head and the need to puke his guts, Eric thought he had been helpful in the field, considering his lack of experience. Tony, however, disagreed.

"How was that wrong? I took the evidence to Abby when we got back," Eric said. Like you'd have done something different. It's what we do in L.A.

"Before you cataloged it," Tony explained, and Eric could tell he was trying to keep his voice even. "Now Abby has to waste her time logging all the evidence before she can even get started."

"I didn't know. Nate usually takes care of that. I'm just a tech, Tony."

"Well we don't do it that way in DC. And if you're just a tech, then it was pointless to bring you out because you can only do half the work that McGee can," Tony told Eric, losing his temper. "Get your ass back to L.A., Beal. We don't need half-help. We need McGee."

Eric was glad they were alone in the elevator, so he wouldn't get chewed out by Tony in front of the team. Even so, he also wished there was someone here on his side, so he wouldn't be facing of the wrath of a guy who missed his best friend.

"Look, Tony, I don't mean to screw things up," Eric started. "And I know you guys want McGee back. I wish he was here. But the thing is, you've got me. And sure, I don't have all the agent training of you, or Tim, or Ziva, but I'm learning. I know I'm not doing it your way, but I'm trying to do it some way, just to get it done. If you'd rather I sit on my ass for the next couple months, by all means, I'd be happy to. But if you want me to help, let me try with my way, and I'll learn your way along the way."

Tony looked like he was about to say something, but the elevator dinged, and he closed his mouth. Saved by the bell, Eric thought.

"Hello, boys. Nice of you to join us," Ziva said when they reached the bullpen. Tony's pictures from the house and a couple of "pre-death" shots of the Marine (driver's license, Marine ID, etc.) were on the screen. Eric immediately sat at McGee's, or his, desk, and started fiddling with the images. I don't want to walk into that one, he thought. It's like a minefield.

"Twenty-six year old Marine, Petty Officer Myles Keaton," Gibbs said, walking in from the direction of the elevator. "Ducky's working the autopsy."

"Does it make a difference whether he died from the knife or bullets? He's still dead," Eric mumbled, but the look Ziva shot him told Eric he was glad Gibb's hadn't heard him.

"Married?" Gibbs asked.

"Fiancée- Kelly Spinter. We've already got her coming in," Tony said. "She was at a yoga retreat all weekend."

"Alibi solid?" Gibbs shot back.

"Has three friends, two coworkers, an instructor, and the hotel concierge who all were in contact with her at some point or another."

"She did not even use the restroom alone," Ziva added. Eric liked this way of working. It was fast-paced and interesting. But a question ate at him until he spit it out.

"Then why are we bringing her in? Her alibi's solid. She didn't kill Keaton," Eric blurted.

"But she might know who did," Gibbs said, and Eric realized the stupidity of his question. With that they all left, as if a meeting of the minds had called, telling them where they should go. This left Eric standing there stupidly, wondering if his telepathic "service" had no bars, or something. He just knew he didn't get the memo.

With nothing else to do, Eric went down to Abby's lab.

"Hey Abby," he said. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't log the evidence before bringing it down here for you. Nate usually does this for us, so I wasn't thinking, and then Tony told me you were getting backed up because you had to log things and I felt really bad about it, so I stopped by to see-"

Abby cut him off. "It's okay, Eric. You didn't know. Stop beating yourself up about it." It's not me kicking my ass that I'm worried about, he thought.

"I just feel like I don't belong here. All I do is screw up everyone else's jobs.

Abby turned from her computer to give him a sympathetic look and a hug. "You're not out of place. You just need to find your niche here. You know where yours is at home in L.A., and you're quickly figuring out what McGee's is here. What you need to do is mesh the two and you've got where you'll fit in here."

Eric let that sink in. Abby's right, he thought. I need to stop trying to be McGee, and start being myself.

"So what would you do if you were working on this case at home?" Abby prompted.

"I would check the database to see if the heart symbol and the two words resemble other cases."

Abby's face lit up, and Eric couldn't help but feel proud that he had been the one to light up her face, whether she was mad at him or not. "That's a great idea. I hadn't even thought of that. And I'd bet a CafPOW! Gibbs hasn't either." Abby gave him another hug, and Eric noticed her chin fit right into the crook of his neck. That made him smile. Maybe he had a little hope of stealing her heart after all.

"Good luck, Eric." He didn't know if she was wishing him luck on his symbol theory or on stealing her heart. He figured the luck was good either way.

(A/N) Thanks for all who read.

Tony: Yeah right. You hate these people, 'cause they don't review.
ME: TONY! I can't take you anywhere.
Ziva: Neither can I. That's why you got stuck with him
Eric: Can anyone explain why we're arguing at the end of her chapter?
ME: I can't even explain it. And I'm the one writing the damn thing.
Eric: HEY! You can't say that!
Tony: What? Damn?
Eric: HEY!
ME: Okay, please review so that these crazies will stop arguing in my head, Tony will stop teasing Eric, and Eric will not have a fit. Love to All!