Author's note:

All the fics in the Constellation Series are adapted from a much longer fic (also posted on ffnet) called Comfort. The main difference is that whilst Comfort is a slash fic, the stories in the Constellation Series are not. Mostly they are one-shots that can be read alone, but I have also adaptied the longer case-fics that make up quite a large chunk of Comfort.

I am (re)posting these fics for two main reasons: 1. Not everyone likes slash and 2. Comfort is quite a long fic, so not everyone has the time or inclination to wade through it all!

If you have already read Comfort you'll find a lot of the Constellation Series is basically the same, so feel free to skip it.

Disclaimer: Human Target isn't mine and I make no money from this.

"So, I just have to sneak back into the apartment block, grab the hard copies of the security footage from the third floor janitor's closet, get out, and hand the client and the discs over to the cops, and then he's in the clear."

"I don't know, Chance," Winston frowned. "Something about this just doesn't feel right."

"I swear I didn't kill her!" Clinton protested.

Winston felt sorry for the guy. Clinton was a nephew of an old friend from SFPD, and he had no doubt that he had nothing to do with the mess he now found himself embroiled in. He'd just had the bad luck of being on duty at the time when one of the residents of the apartment block where he worked security was beaten to death by her husband, a Navy SEAL. The police were on scene at the woman's apartment when he'd gone to hand over the security footage that showed the woman's estranged husband entering the building around the time of the murder. When he saw NCIS take charge of the crime scene however, he panicked and fled, hiding the security footage on his way out.

"We believe you, Clinton," Winston said. "That's not the issue here. I'm just concerned that the victim's husband is a Navy SEAL! Why risk trying to retrieve the discs ourselves when we could just tip off the police?"

"Because the dude is a SEAL," Guerrero said, exasperated that Winston still didn't get it, "and a highly decorated one at that! Which is why NCIS have jurisdiction here, not the cops. It's gonna look a whole lot better for the Navy if Clinton takes the rap for murder, rather than Lieutenant Grimes! The dude has just been awarded the Silver Star!"

"The cops don't even have access to the crime scene anymore, Winston," Chance explained. "Which means if we tip anyone off about the location of the security footage, it will be NCIS not SFPD who retrieve it. There's no guarantee that the discs won't just get 'lost' and then it's Grimes' word against Clinton's. Who do you think the Navy would rather pin this on?"

"I heard him, Winston!" Clinton said. "He told them that he saw me leaving that poor woman's apartment! He told them I killed her, and I need those discs to prove he was there and I wasn't!"

Winston frowned. "But surely once they investigate the scene…"

"My prints will be all over that apartment! She had me check and double check the locks and alarm system virtually every day! She was terrified that her husband would find her and hurt her!"

"But still…"

"Clinton's best hope of getting out of this without a murder conviction is if I go retrieve the discs myself," Chance said.

"And this has absolutely nothing to do with the you loving the idea of taking on a Navy SEAL, I suppose," Winston said doubtfully.

Guerrero grunted dismissively. "Dude, we've been there, done that. One little Frogman is not gonna be much of a problem."

Winston sighed. Everything had been so quiet since Ilsa had returned to London that he'd thought maybe they'd turned a corner. He'd hoped that without the constant thrum of unresolved sexual tension permeating the atmosphere, the team would be more focused, more professional. But Chance was as gung ho as ever, and Guerrero was always there to back him up, no matter what the risks were. They were still just as bad as each other, and it didn't look like that was going to change any time soon.

"'One little Frogman', that's what you said, wasn't it?" Winston said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Guerrero ignored him and studied the security feed on the monitors in front of him. There was a floor by floor search for the missing security footage under way, and it was only a matter of time before they reached the third floor janitor's closet. If their plan was going to succeed, Chance had to move in now. Guerrero seemed unconcerned by the number of men in fatigues taking part in the search, despite the fact that a couple of them were armed with assault rifles in addition to their sidearms.

"Are we even going to get paid for this job?" Ames asked. "No offence Clinton, but you don't exactly look like the kind of guy who can afford to hire us."

The surveillance van was quite spacious, but with four people crammed in the back, it didn't leave much elbow room, so when Winston turned to glare at Ames, she got a whole face-full of disapproval, up-close and personal. "Not everything is about money, Ames."

"Jeez, Winston! You ever actually trim all that nasal hair, or are you just waiting until it's long enough to braid?"

"Do you mind keeping the chatter down a bit guys?" Chance asked via the comms link. "The personal grooming tips can wait until after I've sneaked through an apartment block full of heavily armed military police."

"Sorry dude," Guerrero replied, glaring at Ames and Winston. "I'll keep the kids quiet from now on."

"Much appreciated."

Winston glared at Ames, who responded by pretending to reach for the nasal hair in question. He slapped her hand away, and was about to give her a piece of his mind when Chance's voice came over the comms link again.

"Winston, you can spank her later, but right now she needs to be moving into position."

Ames poked out her tongue, and slipped out of the van before Winston had a chance to retaliate. Guerrero and Winston watched the monitors anxiously as Chance entered the building dressed as a delivery man. He was given a cursory pat-down by the security guard on duty who checked his fake ID before being waving him on through to the elevator, watched by a bored looking guy in fatigues.

"I don't see why we're even sending Ames in on this one," Winston grumbled. "Why complicate things when the place is jammed full of military police?"

"Never hurts to have a contingency plan, dude. If anyone catches on to what Chance is doing, it's gonna pay off to have someone else in the building for him to pass the discs off to."

"Plus these Navy guys are totally hot," Ames chimed in via the comms link.

"You just keep your hands to yourself, young lady! We've got a job to do here and don't you forget it!"

"'Young lady?' Jeez, Winston, you're not my dad!"

"Uh, guys. A little quiet please? I'm on the third floor now."

Winston looked like he was going to say something, but a meaningful look from Guerrero made him swallow his words, and concentrate on the monitors instead.

Ames breezed into the lobby of the building as if she owned the place, ignoring both the security guard and the military policeman, and headed straight for the elevator.

"Miss," the security guard called after her self-consciously. "Hey, miss!"

Ames spun round and gave him an exasperated look. "What?"

"Are you a resident here?" he asked, struggling to sound authoritative in front of the man in fatigues, who seemed amused by Ames' attitude. "If not I'll need to see some ID and…"

"Oh for goodness sake," Ames huffed. "Really? Every frickin' time?"

"I'm sorry miss but I've never…"

"It's bad enough that I've got to come in here every other day to water my boss's stupid plants for two weeks whilst she's lying around on some beach down in Florida, pretending to be at some dumb marketing seminar. Do I really have to go through the whole ID thing every frickin' time?"

"Easy Ames," Guerrero warned. "Don't overdo it."

"If you could just show me your ID and…"

"Here!" Ames rummaged around in her purse, fetching out a fake ID in the name of one Bethany Hicks and thrusting it in the man's face. "And I'm still going to apartment number 31 to water the plants of Ms Melanie Fry!"

"It's Bly not Fry!" Clinton said. "She's got the name wrong!"

"Ames, it's Bly you idiot!" Guerrero repeated over the comms.

The security guy was already checking the name against the list of residents, and when he found apartment 31 he frowned. "There is no Melanie Fry in this…"

"Urgh! Are you deaf as well as stupid?" Ames sneered, determined to bluff her way through it. "I said 'Bly', with a B!"

"She's really pushing it," Winston muttered.

"We got a problem?" Chance asked.

"No," Guerrero replied. "Ames is hamming it up a bit, but the douche on reception just waved her through anyway. She heading your way now. You need to get to that closet soon, bro. They've finished their sweep of the second floor and they're gonna be on your floor any minute now. Looks like they're gonna take the stairs."

"Is Grimes with them?"

"No, so keep your eyes peeled," Winston replied.

"I'm synching the cameras now," Guerrero said. "You've got two minutes max before the guard's monitor cycles back to the camera on the third floor corridor."

Clinton had supplied Chance with the his master key so, after checking the corridor was clear, he let himself into the closet and closed the door behind him. Fortunately he'd also provided him with a very clear description as to where exactly he'd stashed the discs, so he didn't have to waste time looking for them.

He retrieved the discs from the back of one of the shelves, behind some old paint cans, and stuffed the fake parcel that he'd used for his cover out of sight.

"Am I clear?" he asked.

"Go now!" Guerrero ordered.

Chance slipped back out into the corridor and headed back towards the elevator, but as the door shut behind him, he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye.

"Shit! It's Grimes!" Guerrero said. "I think he clocked you! You're going to have to make the drop!"

Chance quickened his pace, and to his relief Ames stepped out of the elevator and strode down the corridor towards him. She didn't so much as flinch as Chance dropped the discs and Clinton's key in to her bag on the way past.

There was a tense moment as Guerrero and Winston watched the monitors, waiting to see if Grimes had noticed the drop, but he ignored Ames completely in favour of tailing Chance.

"Take the stairs," Guerrero said. "His less likely to try anything in front of NCIS."

Chance walked past the elevator and pulled open the doors leading to the stairwell.

"Unless he panics," Winston added. "What if he thinks Chance is about to hand over the discs?"

"Still better than being trapped in an elevator with a homicidal SEAL, dude."

"What's that he's got in his hand?" Clinton asked.

Winston squinted at the scene for a moment. "Is that a gun?"

Guerrero zoomed in on the image of Grimes, before cursing and reaching for his gun. "It's a fucking grenade!"

They watched helplessly as Grimes yanked upon the door and ripped out the pin before tossing the grenade into the stairwell. He took cover back in the corridor, and seconds later the security cameras cut out.