Later that day, as the sun sank in the West, I said goodbye to the NCIS agents who had been so friendly to me over the last few days. Agent Gibbs, especially, had let me soak part of his shirt earlier down in the morgue. The agent I really wanted to see again, however, was McGee. He wasn't stunningly good-looking like Agent DiNozzo, but he was sweet and gentle. He had helped me so much over the past seventy-two hours and I didn't want to say goodbye.

"Thanks for everything, Agent Gibbs," I told him, shaking his hand firmly. "I appreciate it."

"Let us know if you need anything," he insisted sincerely. "We're here for you."

"I will." On an impulse, I stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you again."

After hugging Agent David and Agent DiNozzo, McGee walked me to the elevator. I tried to go slowly, thinking of exactly what to say.

"McGee…"I began, still unsure of what to tell him. There were so many things I wanted to say, but nothing seemed right. Finally, I turned and pressed my mouth against his very lightly.

When I pulled back, he seemed somewhat stunned, but not angry. "What was that for?" he wanted to know.

"I just wanted to show my gratitude," I whispered, slipping a small piece of paper into his hand and then getting into the elevator. "I'll see you soon, McGee!" I called to him as the doors closed.

Tony was in total disbelief. "Why does McGee get the kiss from the hot chick?" he asked Ziva.

"Well, she did spend a lot of time with him during the investigation. It is not surprising that she feels somewhat indebted to him," Ziva pointed out.

"Enough to give him a kiss goodbye?" Tony continued. He just couldn't figure it out.

"She kissed me goodbye, too, DiNozzo," Gibbs spoke up.

"Yeah. Not quite the same thing, Boss."

McGee came walking into the bullpen, smiling from ear-to-ear. "Well, I've got her number now." He held up a piece of white paper with Elle's number written on it. "Looks like something good may come out of this case after all."

"This is so not fair!" Tony exclaimed. "Why do you get the girl?"

"Maybe because he's sincere," Ziva said thoughtfully.

Tony clutched his chest as if in pain. "That hit me hard, David. That wasn't fair."

Ziva smiled back at him smugly.

Elle's POV

That night, after I showered and changed clothes, I drove out to they neighborhood where Will and I had grown up. I needed to see his parents and explain what had happened, since I knew they would be waiting for answers anxiously.

When I knocked on the door, Mrs. Rogers was the one who opened it wide. "Oh, Elle," she gasped. "I'm so glad to see you." She hugged me close and tried not to cry. "We've been so worried about you."

I nodded, trying to manage something that resembled a smile. It didn't work. My efforts were futile. "I came…because I thought you'd be interested in knowing what happened," I told her.

"Come on in. James is in the living room, watching the news. He'll be glad to see you as well."

I followed her through the house where I'd spend a great deal of my teenage years. Everything was so familiar and everything reminded me of Will. It was the saddest part of this whole experience. And now, I had to tell his parents that the reason he was killed was because of me….

"You mean that that guy you used to date, the one Will couldn't stand, is the one who murdered our son?" Mr. Rogers exclaimed as soon as I'd begun explaining everything.

"I'm afraid so," I replied, shrinking back against the leather arm chair a little.

"As I recall correctly, Will tried to warn you about him—said he wasn't anything but trouble, right?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. That's the same guy."

"How could you do this, Elle? How could you let this happen?!" Mr. Rogers was furious now and I was scared and hurt. I hadn't expected them to lay the full blame on me.

"I didn't think that there was anything wrong with Scott," I assured them. "And, at the time, I felt that all Will's concerns were unwarranted. I realize now, however, that they weren't."

"Isn't it a little late for that?" Will's father thundered, standing over me threateningly.

"I'm sure she didn't mean for this to happen, James," Mrs. Rogers said quietly from the sofa. She was crying into a handkerchief, but she wasn't too upset to speak up for me.

"He loved you!" Mr. Rogers yelled. "He loved you and you never, never gave him the slightest bit of hope!"

I stood up, my knees weak and my hands trembling. "I think it's time for me to go," I said quietly, trying to be brave.

Without another word, I walked to the foyer, picked up my bag and keys, then left, never planning to return. I felt as though someone had crushed what little bit of life I had left in me, which hadn't been much anyway.

I got in my car and drove away, tears streaming down my cheeks. My heart was breaking, truly breaking. My life was crumbling into a million minuscule fragments. Finally, I pulled over and broke down over the steering wheel, unable to drive because my eyes were blinded by tears.

Suddenly, my cell phone started to ring quietly from inside my purse. I reached into the bag, searched around for it, and then pulled it out. The Caller ID told me who it was and I felt and immediate since of security and relief. It was McGee.