McRoe listened as the sliding doors which lead to the lab opened with a hiss before he was assaulted by the blaring of classical music. Walking in, he found the source of the noise and hit the kill switch.

"Hey!" came a disgruntled voice.

McRoe followed the noise to see a pair of eyes peeking out at him from behind a computer. "I was listening to that." Seconds later a young man with mousy blond hair and glasses too big for his face stepped out. Placing his hands on his hips, he gave a frown. McRoe stared at him for a moment before the corners of his mouth began to twitch. Gregory Davis, NCIS Senior field Agent for team McRoe turned forensic scientist.

"How can you still hear? The damn thing is too loud," McRoe commented as he stepped closer to the man.

Daivs sent the man a glare before shaking his head. "You just hate the classics. You have no taste." Without another word, Davis began walking back over to the radio, but was stopped by McRoe grabbing his arm. The scientist looked down at the arm before looking back up at the owner of the hand.

"I need to know what you got first."

Davis narrowed his eyes before turning and machining over to his computer screen, looking much like a disgruntled child. McRoe joined him moments later. After hitting a few buttons, a series of charts popped up on the screen. McRoe couldn't make sense of them, so he waited until the other man could explain. After a few seconds, he started to grow inpatient, but the mousy man began launching into his findings.

"Okay, so Ducky-"

"Why do you guys insist on calling him that?"

"Because that is what he prefers to be called and it's how you make friends. You should try it sometime."

McRoe's mouth twitched again but stopped when Davis noticed. "Was that almost a smile? Oh goodness, I haven't seen one of those in a long time. Not since-"

"Greg, don't," came the firm tone of McRoe. Davis stopped speaking and stared at the man next to him. He knew what he was about to say was off limits and every inch of him wanted to slap himself silly.

"Sorry."

McRoe didn't respond nor did he acknowledge the apology. Instead, he looked forward, waiting for his former field agent to continue. As if sensing the conversation was over, Davis did just that. "After receiving the blood samples, I ran a few tests. Lt. Mann had a slew of stuff in her system. It looks more like a drug cocktail. I found traces of Methanol in her system. In addition, I found traces of alcohol and cocaine. If I had to guess, she died of an overdose."

McRoe shook his head. "Doctor Mallard said she died of strangulation; says her windpipe was broken."

Davis huffed in disbelief. "Well, if she didn't die from strangulation, then she would have died from the drugs and alcohol. There was enough in her system to tranquilize a lion."

"Any idea where she could have gotten this from?"

Davis shook his head. "No idea, that's your job, but I will tell you this. I found she had elevated levels of prolactin in her system. It's a hormone that rises in women after they give birth."

McRoe shot the man with a startled look as he processed the news. Davis nodded his head. "Meaning, Lt. Mann gave birth before she was murdered."

Elizabeth DiNozzo listened as her husband finally started to stir. The loud groan of him waking caused her to look in the bathroom mirror at the bed he was lying in. He sat up and looked around the room with a bleary expression before their eyes met in the mirror.

He stood to his feet slowly before he made his way over. Wrapping his arms around her, he rubbed her belly. "Morning," he greeted.

"Actually, it's ten o'clock at night," she replied testily.

Anthony looked towards the window which revealed the star lit sky. Looking back at his wife, he was met with a glare. "What?"

"You made a complete fool of yourself! What is the matter with you? Showing up to murder, drunk? You were almost arrested!"

Anthony groaned as he backed away. "Please don't yell," he gripped as he covered his ears. Elizabeth shook her head, turning to him. "God Anthony! We've talked about this. You're drinking is getting out of control. You need to get control of it, especially for when the baby comes."

"I have it under control," he sighed with a roll of his eyes. He began walking away but she lifted a hand to stop him. He stared down at it before looking into the beautiful green eyes of the woman he married.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," he snapped, pulling his arm away. "I heard you were in trouble, and I came over. I was coming for you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "You told me you were going to a meeting."

"I did."

"I wasn't aware these meetings supplied you with alcohol." Anthony sighed as he took a step back. "I just want you to be honest with me. If you can't do that then why are we here?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anthony asked, his eyes landing on her. Confusion and anger burned in the glassy eyes.

"It means I don't want my child around you while you continue to drink, so you need to choose. Either the bottle or us, but you can't have both."

"Lizzy-"

"I mean it Anthony. If you can't stop with the drinking, then I'm leaving you."

With that, Elizabeth left the bathroom, leaving her words to resonate with her husband.