It was a relatively quiet moment. Deeks and Kensi were out on a short recon assignment and Sam was sitting at his desk, filling out paperwork. Callen was similarly occupied when his phone rang.

"Mr. Callen," Hetty's voice called into the phone. "You have a visitor at the gates. Shall I let her in?"

"Can you have it patched through Ops? I don't expect anyone."

When he hung up, Sam gave him the raised eyebrow - a silent question. "Apparently, there's someone here to see me. Patching the feed in to Ops."

He walked up the stairs and met Hetty, Nell and Eric in the room. On the screen was a blonde haired woman in jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt. He didn't recognize her.

"She says that she needs to speak with you, and only you. Her body language has been anxious," Hetty informed him. He looked at Eric, who said, "Nothing comes up on an initial facial recognition, but they can take time." Callen nodded, saying, "I'll take her out to the boathouse, just to be safe."

He met her in the courtyard outside. She had grey-green eyes that were red rimmed. "I'm agent Callen. I understand you are looking to speak with me?" She nodded at him, not yet speaking. "Ok, why don't we head this way and you can tell me what I can do for you."

He took her into the first room, gesturing to a chair. "Water?"

"No, thank you," her voice was rough. It sounded like she hadn't been using it for a bit. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you, but can I see your I.D.?"

Had he been in Ops, he would have seen the now-present Deeks give Kensi a look and Sam raise his eyebrows again. Instead, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his I.D. and handed it to her. She didn't appear to read it; rather, she pulled the paper out and ran her hand over the top of it. ("She's checking the embossing," Nell said inside.) She handed it back to Callen and took a deep breath.

"My brother was Navy. I was notified that he died last week." Although her voice was steady now, Callen could see the effort it took for her to maintain her tone. "We used to write each other. Well, he'd write me," a ghost of a smile touched her lips. "We were twins." She paused, and then said all in a rush, "We used to have a secret code as kids. He used it to send me these before he died. He found something dangerous. He told me to come to you." She spread three postcards on the table in front of him. Random words and letters on each card were underlined in a different pen than that which had written the words.

The underlining on the first postcard read, "Something's wrong here. I'm looking into it." The second read, "I've found something. It's dangerous." The third and last read, "Go to Callen, NCIS. Take him to the spot." Callen flipped the cards over, noting that each image depicted a different scene.

"Ok, let's take it from the top. I'll ask my partner to come in and we talk about what to do." He gave a look to camera, knowing Sam would have been watching, but was almost certainly on his way to the boathouse already.


The interview lasted about an hour. Her name was Sarah Winters. She and her twin, Jacob, had been close. Jacob had joined the service when they turned 18 and was in the Navy. Although he'd started in technology, he'd moved into another area, doing more active missions. Sarah didn't know what he was doing most of the time because it was classified. In order to maintain contact, Jacob would send her postcards on the various places he was at, always after the fact. Often, he'd use their secret code from their childhood. Prior to the last three postcards, each of the prior ones had been innocuous. The last three were postmarked the same day, suggesting he dumped all three in the box not long before he passed.

In Ops, Eric found that Jacob had a sterling career, right up to the point when he disappeared. According to the database, Jacob was no longer active, but rather a reservist. There was a bevy of information regarding his rise among the tech sector, and then nothing whatsoever about him starting about two years prior to his death. He was still Navy, and still earning a check for his reservist time, but there was nothing else on file about what he was doing day to day.

"I don't know, G," Sam muttered to him while Eric went through what they'd found. "Something isn't sticking, here." Ms. Winters was still in the boathouse, someone having gone to get her lunch while they talked things through in Ops.

"How did Mr. Winters know you, Mr. Callen?" The $64,000 question came from Hetty, as could have been expected.

"I don't know. I don't recognize the name or face."

"Hmm, well, it seems that if he went to all the trouble of getting this information to his sister just before he died, it merits looking into. Please go to this 'spot' and find out what you can. I'll see what I can find out through other channels."

Sarah Winters was pacing at the far end of the table in the room when he and Sam entered. When she turned, the sun caught the top of her head, bathing the honey strands in light. "We need to go find out what it is your brother wanted me to know. Can you describe what 'the spot' is?"

"It's a cubby in the floor in the house we grew up in. We found it as kids. I can describe it to you, but I'm going to have to come with you." Sam started to object when she said, "Even if you knew where to look, there's a thumbprint safe there now. Only Jacob and I are authorized."

Sam gave Callen a look. "Your brother was awfully cloak and dagger, wasn't he?"

She almost smiled. "He'd have laughed to hear that. No, not really. The code in the postcards was for fun. The safe is the only one we have. It stores my mom's pearls; my dad's wedding ring." She sighed. "I haven't gone myself because Jacob said this was dangerous, and he's dead now. He trusted you," she looked at Callen.

"Ok. No time like the present," Callen said, and motioned to the door.


She'd been quiet on the drive. He was behind the wheel could see her in the rear view mirror. She looked…weary. She was beautiful and the hints of smiles that had touched her face back at the boathouse had suggested that in other circumstances, she was quick to good humor. Right now, however, she was obviously just keeping it together. It made sense. Nell had done a quick search on the Winters while Eric was piecing through the Naval records. What Nell found was that Jacob and Sarah had been all each other had. Their parents had died when they were young, with their father passing just as they were about to turn 19. With her brother's loss, Sarah had no family left.

When they got there, Callen saw that Jacob's house was well kept. The front yard was green and the whole place had a feeling of homecoming. There was a small front porch and with a swing. Climbing the few steps to the front door, Callen saw that Sam had reached the same conclusion: this was not the home of someone who intended to stay gone or even secret, but rather, the home of someone who wanted to stay tied down.

Sarah gave Sam the key and Callen motioned for her to stay put just inside the door while they went through the house. It was empty inside, as expected. When they came back around, Sam said, "You can move around. No one is here."

Callen and Sam followed her into a smaller room that was to the right of the stairs. What had once probably been a kid's room was now an office. She went into the closet and swung open a piece of the floorboard. Below the floorboard was a small safe.

She handed Callen the contents, a look of puzzlement in her eyes. "I've never seen these." It was a stack of letters and a flash drive. "I don't know which Jacob wanted you to have."

Callen pulled off the rubber band holding the letters together and handed the stack to Sam while he opened the first one. "It's written out to you. It reads a bit like a journal. I'm going to guess it has your code in it?" He asked her the last bit, handing the page to her.

She looked at it and nodded. "Yes, there's something here."

"Ok, let's get this stuff back and we'll have you translate," Sam said. Callen could tell that Sam's instincts were suggesting that this was not the safest place to be at the moment. Silently agreeing, he looked back to Sarah. "Can you come back with us? I think we're going to need your help for a while yet."

She looked up from the page she'd been reading. Her eyes had taken more of the grey than green now. They were clear and trusting. "Of course."

"We're on our way ba-" Callen had been talking on his cell to Kensi as they walked out the front door. He was cut off by Sam yelling out, "Get down!"

Callen dropped the phone and tackled Sarah as he registered the shots ringing out. Getting up from her, he returned fire with Sam on a white SUV that was speeding off. He took quick stock of the street. It didn't appear that there was any further threat. It was over in seconds, but there were at least twenty bullet holes in the wood surrounding the front door. "G!" Sam strode quickly toward him, pulling at his right side. "You ok?"

There was blood on Callen's shirt. It took the two men about half a second, and they turned to Sarah. She was sitting hunched over, back to the portion of the porch closest to the street. Her once white left sleeve was covered in blood.

Callen got to her first. "Sarah?" She raised her eyes from her arm. "Are they gone?" Her voice was strained. "Yes," he said. "I need to take a look, okay?" She nodded at him, removing her hand from where it had been holding her wound.

It was a grazed shot. It would require stitches, but it didn't look like it was going to require much beyond that. Callen gave Sam a nod, who called Kensi and Deeks. "We're alright. We're going to need an ambulance for Sarah, but she'll be okay, too."

"We should call the coroner," Sarah interjected. Sam gave her a kind look while Callen said, "It's not that bad." His smile took the sting out of the words. She smiled back at him, leaning her head against the wood of the porch. "I figured that. But, whoever was shooting might have been trying to get me, right? Why not let them think they did?"

"I like it," Callen said as Sam changed the instructions to Kensi.


The coroner played ball with them, taking Sarah out to the back of the van and then trading her off to an ambulance about a mile away from the house. Unfortunately, the delay in getting her to the hospital put a bug in someone's ear at the ER, and so they admitted her when she arrived. They wanted to be sure no infection set in, so set her up in a room on the fourth floor, hidden among the long term patients.

She took the news well, though it was clear she was disappointed. "Alright. Can someone get clothes for me? They cut my shirt up in treating my arm."

"Sure. Where's your place, and what would you like?" Sam asked, thinking that they could send Kensi in to get the items if there was anything too personal involved.

"I have a go bag in my closet, on the right side of the floor. It has everything I need, except that it would be good for you to grab a button up shirt, since I'm pretty sure I'm not going to want to put something on over my head." Callen nodded at her, saying, "We'll get it and bring it back to you in the morning. For tonight, Kensi and Deeks will be on guard, just in case."

On their way out the door, Sam called Ops. "Nell, we need you to do some digging into Sarah Winters. Tell us whatever you find."

Callen raised an eyebrow at Sam this time. "Come on, G. She was pretty damn calm for someone who'd just been shot. The suggestion of the coroner? Now, she has a 'go bag'? It just feels like there's some training, or something, there that we should know about."

"Fair enough," Callen said. His gut said that Sarah could be taken at face value, but Sam made good points. "We can take a look around her place while Nell is doing her search."

Sarah's place was a smaller townhouse not far from the beach. It looked like all the other houses in the neighborhood on the outside – bland and unremarkable. On the inside, it was full of color. The rooms were painted in yellows and oranges, with reds and browns accenting each. It was clear that a lot of work went into making the place a home, which was why the state of the inside was such a shame.

The home had been tossed, and pretty unrelentingly by the look of it. Vases and souvenirs from various places were broken and strewn around the floor. The furniture had been ripped apart. Wall hangings were askew. Someone had either been looking for something, or had wanted to send a message; perhaps both. After clearing the house, Callen went into the master bedroom closet and grabbed the bag. He pulled three buttoned shirts from hangers – Sarah wasn't going to be able to go home for longer than she thought.

Rather than head to the hospital, Callen called Deeks and let him know to be on alert, but not to tell Sarah just yet so that hopefully, she'd sleep. Back at Ops, Callen and Sam gave Hetty a rundown of the day's events. Nell piped in at the end, "She's as clean as someone can be, guys. She's a teacher. She's never had trouble with the law and it looks like she's involved in a few local charities. I think she reacted the way she did and had the go bag because of how she was raised." Callen didn't ask, instead giving Nell the look that she should continue.

"Her mother died when she was 10. Her dad raised her and her brother. He was Army and stationed in 6 different bases from the ages of 13-18. She's been a nomad by default."

"Alright. Tomorrow, we'll put her in a safe house and have her start translating those letters. Eric, we need you to start in on that flash drive as soon as possible."


The next morning, Callen arrived at the hospital separately from Sam. He'd been awake since five, so he figured he might as well relieve Deeks and Kensi. They were having coffee when he got there. He cut them loose and tapped on her door. "Come in," she called.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her things. Her smile today was wider – it lit her entire face, making the drab room seem that much warmer. "Here you are," he said as he handed over the bag and shirts. "I'm sorry, Agent Callen. I realized last night that I hadn't asked you your first name. Given that I'll be translating those pages for a bit, it seems silly to keep calling you Callen." Her smile was rueful now, and a spark was glinting in her eyes.

"Grisha," he said, without hesitation. She smiled wider, until she noticed that he was carrying more than just a single buttoned shirt. "You brought more than one?" The look in his eyes must have given it away. "You'd only do that if you thought I was picky, or if you thought I wouldn't be going home for a while." The end of the sentence trailed off. It was obvious she knew which he believed.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. We need to keep you at a safe house for a bit."


Sam arrived outside of Sarah's hospital room in time to hear her say, "Grisha, I lost what's left of my family last week, have been shot, and now I can't go home. I need some good news." There was the echo of tears in her voice. Sam eased the door open and saw Callen step toward Sarah. He told her, "We'll keep you safe, Sarah. You'll be able to go home soon." The air in the room was thick with emotion. Making more noise than necessary to give a heads up of his arrival, Sam called out a "Good morning" to the pair.

"Good morning," Sarah replied. The tears that had been in her voice hadn't fallen. She was fighting them back. Tough woman. "I'll get dressed."

Sam and Callen stepped into the hallway as Sarah headed toward the bathroom. Callen did a semi-pace, staring for a moment at the door to Sarah's room. "We'll keep her safe, G." Callen nodded, mind still occupied by the woman inside.


The safe house was small and single level. There was a living area at the front of the house, a small kitchen and two rooms. One of the rooms was set up in an office-style, but had a foldout couch. The other room held a queen. It was nondescript – beige and boring - which probably made Sarah more aware of how far from home she was, considering her decorating tastes. She didn't complain, though. Instead, she went straight into the office and set up the laptop Eric had given her so that she could use electronic versions of her brother's letters for translating. She was only using it to view the letters, though, as she took out a yellow pad and started writing.

Sam and he needed to get back, but he felt a pull to stay. He didn't, however, have any valid reason to, since there were other agents already set up to keep watch and there were plain-clothes officers out on the street. Recognizing that the sooner he got back to figuring this out, the sooner she'd be able to go back to her life, he turned to leave. Hesitating, he turned back and walked into the office. "We need to get at this. Here's my cell number, if you need anything. I'll be checking in on you and bringing you updates."

She'd looked up when he entered the room. She had a soft blue plaid shirt on, her left arm in a sling. She smiled, a sad but kind facial movement, and nodded at him. "Thank you, Grisha. I'll get through these as fast as I can so that you can figure out what's going on."

In the car, Sam was noticeably silent. He planned to just let it go, but after twenty five minutes, he caved. "What?" Calen asked. Sam gave him a look. "What?" he asked again.

"You know what, G. You sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm not doing anything other than my job."

"Uh-huh," Sam's tone and facial expression were smug. "Look, she's a beautiful woman and clearly tough. I just don't want you to get in too deep and find that she's too wrapped up in her own issues at the moment. She's got a lot going on."

"I know," Callen sighed. Sam was right. Outside of the fact that unknown individuals may want her dead, she'd lost her brother just a week or so ago. He hadn't crossed any lines, but he'd have to watch himself.


When they got back, Callen and Sam went up to Ops. Kensi and Deeks were there, as was Hetty. Eric had an email from Sarah on the board, as well as images of the letters her brother had left her. "What's the story, Eric?"

"Sarah's still working through the packet. She plans to update me every hour. What she has so far, however, makes me think we're looking at diversion of weapons issue." Eric pulled Jacob Winters' military I.D. up on the board. "Hetty learned that Jacob Winters had been assigned to the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln when he died."

Hetty started in, "It appears that Mr. Winters was on our side. While he began his work in Cryptologic Warfare, somewhere along the line he impressed a supervisor. When his second contract ended, Jacob Winters had been recruited to join NCIS, and had been working undercover." Turning specifically to Callen, Hetty asked, "Is that how he may have come to know you?"

"It's possible, though I still don't recognize him. Do we have a more up to date photo, Eric?" Eric shook his head. "Apparently, the Winters are not big on family portraits. Deeks and Kensi went back over to her place to see if she had something, and the only photos they found were from their childhood."

"Perhaps, Agent Callen, you could ask her when you go over to the safe house tonight?" Callen nearly did, but refrained from, a double take. He hadn't told anyone he was planning to go back tonight to check in on Sarah. Instead, voice calm and measured, he said, "Of course."

He could feel Sam smirking behind him, and it seemed Kensi and Deeks were also starting to pick up on the feel of the room, since both had smiles tickling the edges of their mouths. "What do we know about Jacob Winters' mission, Eric?"

Without hesitation, Eric said, "He was investigating some missing weapons from the Lincoln. The flash drive contains a list of specs and weapons that apparently have gone missing over the past five years."

Nell jumped in, "Each event was small. A couple of riffles here, a few boxes of ammo there. It was enough to hit the radar, but was primarily chalked up as mistaken inventory because it was so random and spread out over so long a time period. It wasn't until a box of M67s went missing that it garnered enough attention that the links started coming together. They sent Jacob on board as a CTM to work on the ship's systems. He was killed the day after the ship came into port."

"Where's the ship now?" Sam asked. "Still docked," Eric said. "It's undergoing an overhaul of some of the weapons systems and upgrading some technology."

Sam and Callen looked at each other and Callen said, "Well, sounds like we need someone with some tech savvy to go aboard, and who couldn't use an extra hand when you're upgrading such heavy machinery?"


They decided to send Nell in as the spook while Sam was to work the maintenance angle. Given the purpose of the docking, Callen, Deeks and Kensi would be able to get aboard for 'routine' reviews to ensure that all personnel were properly credentialed and the like. Back in Ops, Eric was compiling a list of seamen and officers who had been assigned to the Lincoln for five years or more.

They didn't find much the first day. Eric had located about twenty men and women who had been tasked with serving on the Lincoln for the full five years, but none were assigned to weapons detail at any point in their time aboard. Sarah kept an hourly stream of emails up to Eric, finishing going through the stack of letters by about 7 that night.

The code within the letters told a story much like they'd imagined. Jacob Winters had been certain that one of the twenty people on their list was involved in the mishandling of weapons. He'd also come to the conclusion, much as they had, that at least two other people had to be involved in the activity. He'd focused in on entries of the people who had been into the weapons bay, rather than on who was working shifts. It had been his working theory that one of the twenty would recruit whichever petty officer was on shift to allow them access into the room and that was when the weapons would disappear. Jacob had figured that there had to be a fence or outside contact off the ship to whom the weapons were sold. He'd narrowed his focus to five of the twenty on the list.

Given Jacob's notes, they decided to hit up the five first – the fact that Jacob went missing after he'd narrowed it down suggested that he was right. The part that hadn't come together yet, though, was the fact that he'd made each of those notes prior to the last boarding. So, he'd figured out all the prior information and had been able to store it in his safe. That had to mean that, after he'd narrowed the focus down, he'd come across something different that he deemed more "dangerous" than what had been suspected at first. That thing had to have been what got him killed.

All of this swirled in Callen's head as he walked up the steps of the safe house. The agents on shift granted him entry and indicated that Sarah was still in the office. It was late; he hadn't been sure she'd still be up, but she was reading under a light on the couch.

"Hi," she smiled at him. She was still in the blue plaid shirt, but she'd tossed the sling. She'd been leaning against the far end of the couch cushion, but sat up when he came in.

"How are you doing?" He asked, and regretted the question almost immediately. She didn't respond harshly, though, instead saying, "Eh. I'm alright. It's been a long day and the novel options from your prior occupants here leave something to be desired, but it could be worse." She paused, then continued, "It could have been a romance novel." Her eyes twinkled at him as she said the last part. He chuckled in return, saying, "Heaven forbid."

"I'm here to give you an update, if you're up for it." At her nod, he continued, "Your brother was no longer active Navy."

"What?!" Her surprise was evident. "I don't understand."

"He was NCIS. He'd been Navy for eight years, but when reservist thereafter. He signed on with the NCIS when he was no longer active. He didn't tell you because he was undercover for the last two years on various missions." She was digesting the information, nodding while he spoke.

"Well, it makes sense that he didn't tell me and what he did say." At Callen's look, she said, "Jacob and I didn't like keeping secrets from one another. A couple years ago, he told me that he was going to be going on more missions, but that I couldn't ask him what he was doing or where he was going. He didn't want to lie to me."

"From what we've learned, he was close to solving a mystery when he was killed. Our working theory is that he stumbled onto the last bit that got him killed sometime last week. If we're right, the reason someone took a shot at you was to avoid you telling the authorities what you knew. Someone out there thinks that you know more than you do."

"Hmm," She murmured. "So, what now?"

"Now, we pick up where he left off. We've got a couple of us on the inside and we're taking a look at things in our more 'official' capacity at the same time. Between the two, we should be able to find what Jacob did and hopefully put the whole thing to rest…Speaking of which, it's pretty late, Sarah."

"I know, but I haven't been able to sleep." She looked like she was about to say more, but stopped.

"Sarah, you can trust me."

She sighed. "I've lived alone practically my whole adult life. There are two agents in the other room and more out on the street. Yet, I can't get comfortable. I can't relax. I've been trying to lose myself in this book; thinking that if I could just escape my brain for a bit, I'd be able to sleep. It hasn't worked so far."

He knew what he should do, but he didn't want to. So, instead he offered, "I can stay if you'd like." She looked puzzled, so he went on. "I'll stay in here with you until you fall asleep. You can keep reading, and see if the combination helps to put your mind at ease enough to sleep. If you can't, you can read to me, since I'll be up anyway." He felt a bit of a twinge on the last words. He wasn't lying to her. He would be up anyway, but it wasn't because he was on shift. He let her connect that dot on her own, if she chose to do so.

"I don't know, Grisha. I'm not sure using you as the human equivalent of a teddy bear is fair."

"Are you calling me squishy?" He asked with a smile and was rewarded with her smile back at him.

"If you're sure about this, I'd like the company."

He gestured for her to spread out, placing one of the couch pillows against his leg. She pulled her feet up and rested her head on the pillow, her long hair underneath her.

"Alright, so the hero of our tale is a novelist and mystery solver…"


She fell asleep sometime after about 3 that morning. Her book lay on the ground at the foot of the couch, forgotten. She'd shifted onto her right side, likely to avoid bumping the injured left. It meant that her golden hair stood in stark contrast to the dark blue of his jeans. The pillow she'd been resting her head on had been tucked toward the back of the couch and her face was still on it a bit, but most of the weight of her head was on his thigh. She was calm in her sleep; radiating a peace that was enviable. Without conscious thought, he was running his hands through her hair, letting the light waves fall in silken pieces through his fingers. She responded to the intimacy of the caress in her sleep, snuggling closer. It was in that position that Sam found them a few hours later.

He heard the door open and saw Sam take in the pair of them. Callen had meant to stay awake, but tiredness had overtaken him. In his own slumber, his hand had come to rest on her head. By the look on his face, Sam was not impressed. Extricating himself carefully so not as to wake Sarah, Callen got to his feet and followed Sam out the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked. A fair question.

"She couldn't sleep, Sam. You said it yourself: she's been through a lot. I wanted to help."

"Yeah, I bet." Sam responded.

They'd been partners a long time. That didn't mean, however, that Callen was going to let that slide. "Sam, who I spend my time with off shift is not your business – to comment on or judge."

"Wrong, G. We're family and you're setting yourself up for a world of hurt. Even if we weren't in the middle of a mission right now, you're getting attached to a woman who just lost her own family. You don't know much of anything about her. Does she have a boyfriend? What's she do with her time when not in a safe house? You're getting caught up in her sad story – not her."

Thankfully, the agents who had been on shift in the living room had vacated the room when they'd heard Sam ask Callen his first question. Callen took a breath and responded, "She's a teacher, Sam. She's off for the summer from teaching history and home ec. She doesn't have a boyfriend. Her favorite color is the sparkle that comes off an emerald. Should I continue?"

Sam had pulled back a bit when Callen spoke. Callen exhaled slowly, telling him, "We talked most of the night in fits and spurts while she read. I know you don't approve, but I'm not tied up in who I want her to be. I'm getting tied up in who she actually is. And yes, I know it's a bad idea, but I can't seem to help it."

The look in his eyes must have convinced Sam of answers to unspoken questions. "Okay, G. I want it to work out, but you have to go easy on her. You know she's vulnerable."

Rather than taking offense, Callen was buoyed by the fact that Sam's instincts were to not only protect him, but also to protect Sarah. His warning made it clear that Sam liked her, too. It shouldn't matter, but it did. Sam was practically his brother; his opinion was important. If he was looking to protect Sarah, then he approved of her in concept, just not in the timing. Rather than speak, Callen nodded. He turned as he heard movement by the door of the office.

"Good morning," she called to them from the other side of the room. "Who's hungry? I make a mean breakfast burrito."


"This isn't going to work, G." Sam stated as they drove in to meet up with Kensi and Deeks. "If she sticks around, we're both going to put on twenty pounds." His tone was teasing. The safe house hadn't had all the ingredients she needed for a burrito, so she'd made a breakfast scramble instead. It was hearty and filling and the atmosphere around the kitchen counter while she'd been cooking had been familiar and comfortable.

"I did tell you she teaches home ec." Callen said with a smile. "She's taken chef courses on and off for the past few years. There's skill there."

Kensi and Deeks were already there when Sam and Callen arrived. "Snooze your alarm a bit this morning, guys?" Kensi asked.

"Nah," Sam said. "We indulged in the best breakfast in town before coming in."

Kensi perked up. "What? Where was this?" Deeks gave her a look. "In case you don't want to cook some morning," she explained. Somewhat mollified, Deeks said, "Yes, do tell. I'll put my frittatas up against whatever restaurant you found any day."

"Sarah fed us." Sam said, eliciting another Deeks and Kensi look. "Oh, really?" Deeks asked, his tone ensuring that everyone in the room knew he was speculating as to why Sarah would have provided Callen and Sam breakfast.

Callen should have stayed quiet, since speaking up would only confirm suspicions, but he couldn't help himself. He said, "So, what have you learned since yesterday?"

"Is that a diversionary tactic, Kens?" Deeks asked dramatically.

"Why, I do think it is, Deeks. I wonder why we'd need to be diverted from a discussion of something as wholesome as breakfast?" Kensi countered.

Callen sighed. "It's not like that." Again with the look between Deeks and Kensi. Callen knew it was a lost cause. They were investigators. It was their job to pick up on small nuances and run with their guts. Unfortunately, those guts were headed down the right path – one that he really wasn't interested in discussing with anyone other than Sam at the moment. Thankfully, a whistle from above meant that Eric wanted to see them in Ops.


"We think we have something," Nell started. Eric was holding the three postcards that had first sent Sarah to seek Callen. "Look at the pictures on the cards."

The postcards were all different. The first one showed the image of a U.S. Naval ship. The second one showed a couple on a beach at sunset. The last one depicted kids playing with water guns. When Callen had first looked at them, he hadn't believed they held any particular meaning. Looking at them now, the only one that seemed to connect to their case was the first one.

"You're going to have to explain this one," Deeks commented from behind him.

"The first postcard shows the image of the U.S.S. Lincoln. When we noticed that, we got to thinking that maybe the other two postcards were intended to send a message in addition to the code on the back. So, we ran the names of the five crew members who'd been on the Lincoln and tried to cross reference it with anyone else on the ship." Eric said.

"Turns out," Nell continued, "that one of the five is a service woman who had been investigated for improper fraternization with the C.O. Nothing was ever found, and so neither of the two were ever disciplined."

"The claim was made by a former weapons sergeant." Eric said.

"So, we have the Lincoln and a relationship. How do they relate to postcard number three and Winters' mission?" Kensi asked.

"We think that Jacob was trying to say that the relationship was used to get the guns. We haven't figured out how, yet. Unfortunately, the sergeant who reported the relationship died three years ago in a boating accident." Nell's tone made it obvious she did not believe the death to have been accidental at all.

"Why didn't the C.O.'s name come up as someone who'd been on the ship for five years or more?" Callen asked.

"Because he changed his name." Nell answered. "It's not clear why, but about three years ago, the C.O. changed his last name from Wilde to Jones. When we ran the search, it looked like two different C.O.s had been aboard."

"So, I'm the C.O. and I want to make a little money on the side. My position makes it such that weapons personnel will follow orders, but only if they think that what I'm doing is technically wrong, rather than clearly wrong." Sam started in on his train of thought and Deeks jumped in to continue it: "So, I convince the weapons guys that I need some time alone in the room for some personal moments with my lady friend."

"And then I use that time to grab a few things which I can then sell when I'm on leave." Kensi finished.

"We need to talk to the service woman who's playing the role of the devoted girlfriend." Callen said.


Rather than abandon the present set up, the team decided to continue with Nell and Sam under cover. Kensi and Deeks, meanwhile, escorted Petty Officer Daniels off ship for a discussion at the boat house. Callen watched the monitors while they interviewed her, itching to tell Sarah they were close to getting her back home and to some semblance of normalcy.

"Wow. Now, that has to take the record for the fastest flip!" Deeks practically crowed back inside. "Did you see that?" He asked Callen. "I had her singing in less than 5 minutes."

"Yes, Deeks. You got the bad guy to admit to being a bad guy." Kensi said dryly. "Come on, now. It's not my fault if my devilish good looks sometimes get the ladies to respond better than you'd like, Kens- OW!" He finished with a cry as Kensi punched him in the shoulder.

"Tell Sam to pick up the C.O. We still need to find their land contact for the guns." Callen said. "Ok," Deeks called, "but where are you going?"


It wasn't as late in the evening as it had been the prior day when Callen got to the safe house. It was, however, during a time when most people would be asleep. Again, he found Sarah on the office couch, this time with a new book. "Did our novelist solve the mystery?" He asked.

"Yep, he solved the mystery, captured the bad guy and got the girl." She replied. "Now, I'm learning about the adventures of a dog who is afraid of cats."

"Ouch," Callen said. "That is bad." He commented.

She smiled at him, swinging her legs down from the cushions. "Yeah, but now you're here and you can tell me how things in the land of the living are going." Her voice was teasing and smooth. It slipped into his mind and curled into corners that he'd long thought dormant.

"We had a big breakthrough. We're really close. I can't tell you the details yet, but I'm hopeful of getting you home before the week is out."

"That's great! Although, do I want to go? How bad was the damage from whoever trashed it?"

"Mostly cosmetic, really. You'll need a new couch, and some of your souvenirs will need to be thrown out."

"Is it okay if I call someone to go in and clean the place up? Is it still considered a crime scene?"

"Let me check in tomorrow, but I think that would be fine." He gestured to the book and couch. "Couldn't sleep again?"

She shook her head and said, "No. I didn't in the hospital, either. The most sleep I've had since they notified me about Jacob was last night." She gave grin this time, saying, "It would appear that you are just the right kind of squishy."

"Hey, now. I'll have you know that Sam spends an inordinate amount of time trying to make sure that I'm fit for duty." His own voice was similarly light. "Well, seeing as how I'm not needed back until the morning, let's see what happens with Fido."

Her smile had started to widen, but then stopped. "Grisha, if you need to go home to your cat or plants or someone, I'll be okay."

"You've gone too far there, Sarah. What makes you think I'm a cat person?" Though his tone was deadpan, his eyes twinkled at her as he shooed her to the side and sat on the end of the couch. "Now, what is Fido-", ("Rufus," she interjected as she laid back on the pillow across his legs) –"Rufus, going to do about those scary cats?"

The next morning, Callen awoke to find Sarah asleep with her head on his thigh again. Her left hand was slung over her chest. He'd guess it still hurt to raise it above her head. From his own experience, he'd have thought she'd had been told to change the bandages by now. That thought was followed by a quick flash of jealousy for whichever agent had assisted her. Shaking the thought aside, he saw that her right hand was by her face, palm up.

On the inside of her wrist was a light tan colored tattoo. In script that had been etched in a circle, it said, "Gone, but not forgotten." He looked at her sleeping form, committing to memory how she looked. Sam was right. He should take a step back. She was too vulnerable right now for him to be pursuing anything. It wasn't fair to her. Just as he started to move, she stretched and opened sleep-filled eyes. Her smile captured him.

"Good morning," she said, her tone was husky.

He swallowed before responding, "Good morning. You ready to greet the day?" She stretched one more time, missing that he took a breath and closed his eyes momentarily while she did. "Sure," she responded. "Hungry?" She asked.

"Famished."


He was earlier to his desk than he had been yesterday, but Sam had still beaten him there. "How was breakfast this morning?" Sam asked, his smug look at his guess painfully obvious.

"Very well, thank you," Callen said as he sat. "The C.O. think better of his decision to hold back the name of the fence yet?"

"He's been saying he wants to talk to us. I think he's ready," Sam stated.

The interview with the C.O., much like the one with the petty officer, went quickly. He'd had all night to think about his options, and decided that being helpful was most likely to get him the least amount of time in prison.

He told them that he'd been approached by a local gang leader five years ago. The gang leader had information on the C.O.'s family. He'd threatened to harm his daughter if he didn't find a way to get some guns and ammo to the mainland. He'd agreed, and had conscripted his petty officer, a woman with whom he'd actually had a prior relationship with, to assist. He confirmed that they'd stolen all of the guns, ammo and the recent grenades and passed them on to the gang. He denied harming Agent Winters, though. He was convinced the gang had done that. He claimed not to know anything about the prior weapons officer who'd reported him and the petty officer for their relationship.

In a combined raid with the local P.D., the team took down the gang leader. At their hangout – a rundown home inside the city limits – they found the white SUV that had taken shots at them. It was around back under a tarp, but enough of it had been showing that one of the officers saw bullet holes in the back. With that evidence and the statements from the C.O. and petty officer, it was going to be a long time before the gang leader was back on the streets, if ever. Especially considering that the case had opened up an investigation into the officer who'd died a few years prior in the 'boating accident."


When Callen told Sarah, she hugged him. In her embrace was pure joy, so he felt a bit off for thinking the things that came to mind when she did it. He drove her home and helped her to right a few of the pieces of furniture and wall hangings – she hadn't gotten anyone to go in after all, worried that the person would toss something that held special meaning.

That had been three weeks ago. He'd checked in on her every night since. Sometimes, he stayed so that she'd sleep. Other times, she kicked him out, saying that she was good, though he knew otherwise. Thus, it was more than a month after he'd first met her when Sam finally spoke up while the crew were all at their desks.

"Alright, G. This has to end." Callen looked at him in surprise. He'd been talking on the phone a minute ago, and had no idea what Sam was talking about.

Deeks chimed in, "He's right, man. It's gone on long enough."

Kensi gave Deeks a look, saying, "I'm sorry, did I just hear you say that waiting a month to tell someone how you feel is 'long enough'?" Deeks squirmed, saying, "It's different, Kens. She doesn't work with him." "Ah. I see," was the response Kensi gave him before turning her attention on Callen. "You've been mooning over Sarah for over a month. Time to bite the bullet and tell her."

"Excuse me? 'Mooning over her'? I have not." Callen said.

"Mr. Callen, if you had been any more of a sad puppy dog, I would have had to consider removing you from duty for a while," Hetty said as she walked into the conversation. "Go. Talk to the woman."

Callen stared at the people around him in disbelief. He considered arguing further, but decided that it was an effort in futility; they were right, if their characterization was questionable.


He drove around her home for an hour before he stopped and walked up the steps. He didn't know what he was going to say. She answered the door in cutoff jeans and a tank top. There was a pink streak across her left arm where the bullet wound had been. She was going to scar. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him.

He choked. Instead of just telling her why he was there, he said, "I've been in the area for a bit (not a lie, considering his time in his car), and thought I'd come see how you are doing."

"I'm good. I've been working on some new recipes today and I'm getting ready for classes to start up next month." She gestured to the kitchen, saying, "I was just about to sit on the back porch with a drink. Want to join me?"

He followed her through the house to the back, finding a small wicker table set up with lemonade. "Mine's adult lemonade," she winked, "but I can get you a virgin one if you're on duty." He nodded at her, still mulling over how to talk about what he came here to say.

Half an hour later, he'd still failed to say it and it was going to get awkward if he didn't leave soon. They'd cleared the table and had wandered back inside. He took a breath, about to speak, when she said, "I wanted to thank you, Grisha. You saved my life, but also my sanity. I couldn't have gone through all this without you."

He said the first words that came to his head, "Just doing my job." The words were a mistake. He knew it as soon as they left his mouth. While her tone didn't change, the spark had left her eyes and her smile had dimmed. Had he not been looking right at her, he wouldn't have caught it. "I know," she responded.

She sighed, and continued with a sadder tone, "But I think we shouldn't see each other for a while. You're a magnet to me…I'm drawn to you. I can smell your aftershave on my clothes when you stay with me. I've been pretending that you don't make my stomach turn over every time you smile at me; that my toes don't curl when I wake up from sleeping next to you. But I can't keep pretending. I know I'm just the job to you, but you're more than that to me, and I can't let myself go further down that path. I've lost too much to lose what's left of my heart."

He'd stopped breathing when she started speaking. On her last word, he crossed the room in three strides and took her in his arms. He kissed her with an intensity that surprised them both. She reached up, curling her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and kissed him back. A few moments later, he murmured, "You're not just a job. You're more." He kissed her lightly again and whispered, "I'll keep you – your heart – safe. If you let me."

Her grey-green eyes searched his for a moment and he realized he'd been holding his breath again when she answered, "Only if I get to call you, Squishy." He chuckled against her mouth as they kissed again. "Done."