Welcome Back, Mr. Deeks
...
The boat shed hadn't changed at all since he'd been gone. He still felt as if he were standing on a set in a sequel to Jaws, the musical version, waiting for the chorus line to make a grand entrance, tap dancing by him in colorful swimsuits. But, all joking aside, it was comforting to be here. He realized he had actually missed coming here, missed the conversations he'd had with the team and bantering with Kensi as they'd watched Callen and Sam intimidate bad guys, catching them in a host of lies. Interrogations carried out long ago, played on a loop through his head, reminding him he had one of his own to go through now that Granger had questioned Hetty's decision to allow him to return. He wasn't that terribly surprised, but it did make him uneasy and a small touch of uncertainty clouded his homecoming.
Funny, how he thought of this place as kind of a home. He hadn't realized that until a couple of months into his first undercover assignment after he'd gone back to the LAPD, when he was working the docks with a snarky drug dealer. The diner he had gone to for lunch the first day of his assignment, reminded him of this place, its blue walls covered in old tide charts and posters of ocean liners, the wooden boats hanging from the ceiling making him nostalgic and causing him to leave before his burger arrived. He'd never planned on going back until the man he was after set up a meeting with him there, the night ending in gunfire and a few bullet holes in the bottom of one of the boats. He'd felt bad about that and had offered to personally pay the owner for the repairs, which Bates had delighted in telling everyone at the precinct, eliciting the odd looks and laughs of disbelief he'd always gotten there.
"I'd hoped your return would have been a little more pleasant than this, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said sadly, as she quietly entered when he hadn't been looking. "The Assistant Director always seems to make things as difficult as possible."
"I remember," he answered.
"Did you get the rest you needed?" She asked, still looking as concerned as she had when he'd come back with the team after taking down Munoz and Salazar.
"Are you worried about me, Hetty?" Surprised and suspicious at the same time. "I can do the job, if that's what you're concerned about."
"Sounds as if you haven't quite shaken off Max Gentry," she said, eyeing him critically. "I'm on your side, Mr. Deeks. Remember that. I only ask because you still have bags under your eyes and your fingers are twitching."
He'd forgotten how observant she was and he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and stared at the floor.
"Will you be sitting in on the questioning?" He asked.
"I'm afraid you'll be on your own, Detective," Granger growled as he walked in from the back. "Hetty has made her position abundantly clear as have the other members of your former team. Some of the comments were quite emotional and I'm afraid it's up to me to play devil's advocate and keep this professional."
"Of course," he said, feeling the first hint of anger, mainly at the man's tone of voice.
He started to follow him into the interrogation room, when Kensi came in, followed by Callen and Sam. They all looked pissed and he couldn't help but smile, but Granger caught sight of it and frowned, so he let it fade, running his hand up through his hair as he blew out his breath.
"You never did say what you objected to, Assistant Director," Callen said with a distinct edge to his voice, as if continuing a previous conversation.
"Because it's not your business, Agent Callen," he huffed in that slow, officious voice he had. "I don't recall inviting any of you here."
"I'm here to back up my partner," Kensi said.
"I just saw your partner, Agent Blye," Granger said. "Agent Jensen was writing up reports like the rest of you should be doing."
"It's about all he's good for," Sam sniped. "He almost shot Deeks and that doesn't make me real eager to work with him."
"Whom you do, and do not work with is not your decision to make, Agent Hanna," Granger was angry now and his voice rose as he spoke.
"No Owen, it's mine," Hetty reminded him.
"Can we just get this over with?" Deeks asked softly, silencing them all.
He turned and walked down the short hallway to the interrogation room and walked inside, sitting on the suspect side as Granger followed him in, a thin folder in his hand. He studied the man quite dispassionately and Granger raised an eyebrow as if to question what he was doing, but he continued, thinking that Hetty may be right. Maybe there was still some vestige of Max Gentry hanging around. Maybe it was Max who was pissed at this carnival Granger was putting on, or was it a puppet show. The man liked to let people know he was in charge and he was pretty sure the Assistant Director would make it quite clear who was pulling the strings, whether Hetty liked it or not.
"Something you want to say to me, Detective?"
"Asking me to make a statement, Judge Granger?"
"Don't be a wiseass, Deeks," he said very quietly, his eyes narrowing at the flippant comment.
"Isn't that what you think I am?"
"I think you had better take this seriously, Detective, or you won't be working here," he said.
That sobered him and he knew then that Max Gentry was very close and he rubbed his hand across his mouth and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to say something reckless, to blow his chances of ever coming back and he wondered why he would do that. It had only been four days since he had finished his assignment as Max, and as hard as he had tried to shake that alias, he was finding it difficult this time. Five months was a long time to be someone as dark as Max. Even Kensi had noticed how rough he acted at times, and Sam had called him on some of his language when he'd had him over for a weekend barbecue. He couldn't imagine what the team was thinking now, as they listened to him antagonize Granger for no good reason.
"I apologize," he said, trying his best to keep his voice sincere.
"How long were you under?" Granger asked, his voice more kindly than before.
"Just over five months," he answered, feeling his skin crawl.
"Tough go?" He asked.
"I assume you have my report," Deeks said as evenly as he could, leaning nonchalantly back in the chair.
"I'm not asking about the facts of the case, Detective," Granger said.
"You a psychiatrist now?" Deeks snapped before he could stop himself. "Trying to get inside my head and figure out if I'm too screwed up to work here?"
"Something like that," Granger said calmly as he opened the file folder on the desk.
Deeks swallowed hard and sat up straight, closing his eyes as he felt a flash of anger and a deep sense of dread. He put both hands on the table, trying to calm down, to return to the person he used to be, to make light of it all somehow, but that part of himself just wasn't there, and he found it hard to breathe.
"How many times have you gone undercover as Max Gentry?" Granger asked as he stared at him from across the table. "With the LAPD."
Deeks let his mind drift back over the years, to his time with Ray and Nicole and the times before and after when Max's special skills had been needed. Some assignments had been short or intermittent, while a few had been almost as long as this last one. He had been shot once, stabbed once and thrown out of a moving car, but he had also dished out some pain of his own. Max never backed down without a fight if it came to that. He had a reputation to protect, one he wasn't proud of, but one that gave him an edge when he was out there all alone, a reputation that had kept him alive on numerous occasions. That reputation had saved Callen and Sam and was probably the reason he was here being interrogated.
"Detective?"
"Sorry. Just trying to remember," he answered softly. "Seven."
"Including the last one?" Granger asked.
"Eight."
"Plus the two times while you with NCIS," Granger noted.
"Those don't count," Deeks shook his head as he stared back at the man. "Inconsequential."
"Is that how you felt about trying to expose a possible buyer for Siderov's nuclear weapons?" Granger looked more and more pissed as he spoke.
"That was a part time gig," he replied, feeling more and more surly. "I wasn't under deep. Just playing at it."
"Playing?"
"What do you want, Granger?" Deeks said suddenly, standing and swiping the folder off the desk, the papers inside scattering across the wooden floor.
"Sit down Detective Deeks," he said with a measured, unflappable tone.
"Not until you tell me why I'm being questioned like I did something wrong," Deeks said loudly. "I saved your agents. I went out on a limb for them and for this agency. I got my ass verbally kicked by the head of my department at LAPD for what I did and now you don't think I'm fit to work for you? Well, fuck you, Granger."
The door opened and Hetty calmly stepped into the room, followed by Callen. Deeks started to leave, but Hetty held up her hand and he stopped, his head dropping to his chest as he nervously fingered the hair at the back of his neck, trying desperately to calm down. Callen gently squeezed his shoulder, surprising him, and he looked up into the senior agent's concerned eyes.
"I think we would all like to hear the answer to that, Owen," Hetty said as she motioned for Deeks to return to his seat.
"He lost it out there, Hetty, and you know it," Granger said. "He destroyed a hotel room in a fit of rage. That has me concerned and it should have you questioning his ability to stay in his right mind while he's out there on the job."
"It wasn't even his job," Callen was irritated as he stood next to Deeks. "He saved our case and our lives. If they hadn't believed Max Gentry, Salazar would have killed all three of us."
"He tried to choke you out, Agent Callen," Granger reminded him.
"I was just being Max. I had to make them believe we had history," Deeks said softly. "I actually thought it was funny. Making Callen out to be a Ukrainian swinger. Come on. You gotta admit that's funny."
"It's not that funny," Callen said, turning to stare at him with just a hint of a smirk.
"The point is, the story worked," Hetty said.
"That doesn't explain what happened in that hotel room," Granger said.
"Why are you so concerned about that god-awful hotel room?" Hetty asked with contempt.
"Tell me why you ripped everything in it to shreds, Detective," Granger ignored the question and sat back down and stared unblinking at Deeks. "Tell me what made you lose control out there after you saved Callen and Sam?"
"You're right," Deeks said as he tightly clasped his hands together on the table in front of him. "I did almost choke him out. I wanted to. Max wanted to. I was just so mad when I saw who Salazar had in that room. Shocked and pissed and scared. I had heard earlier in the day that he wasn't just going to kill two cops, but he was going to make any other cop think twice about trying to infiltrate their gang. Salazar liked Max because Max is an asshole, a bastard who makes men pay if they screw with him. Salazar told me stories he thought Max would appreciate, stories about what he enjoyed doing to anyone who crossed him."
Deeks stopped talking, trying to gather himself and everyone waited patiently for him to continue.
"I couldn't let that happen," he continued. "But I was so mad at Callen for being there. I had to take my anger out on somebody or I would have blown it and Callen was the logical choice."
"Logical?" Granger growled.
"Yuri Kulish was the main buyer and besides, Sam's too big," Deeks grinned. "Even Salazar wouldn't have wanted to go one on one with Sam. That's why he had so many armed guards in there with him. The guy is vicious, but he isn't stupid."
"And the hotel room?" Granger persisted.
"I had worked with Callen for almost five years," Deeks kept his head down as he spoke barely above a whisper. "He had nothing to say to me when I left here. No words of encouragement, no good luck wishes, no attempt to understand why I felt I had to go. Nothing. It hurt. I know that sounds dumb and childish, but it bothered me and when you are undercover, out there all alone, things like that fester and your mind makes them bigger than they really are."
"Sam was right. I should have said goodbye. I should have talked to you," Callen said softly. "I never wanted you to leave and I should have told you that. I'm sorry, Deeks."
"The thing is, Callen, I've admired you since the beginning," he said. "But in that room, in that instant, I wanted to beat the shit out of you and Max was just the guy to do it. I think I just wanted your attention and that's the only way Max knows how to get someone's attention. After I left, I got stinkin' drunk, man. Not Max. Me. I hated myself for hurting you and for leaving here in the first place. I realized what a mistake I'd made and it sent me over the edge. That room never had a chance."
"That's all, Detective," Granger said, finally standing to his feet. "I'll let you know my decision. Until then, go home."
Granger walked out and Deeks felt nothing but emptiness. He had confessed everything and he had nothing left, no sense of self, not even Max. He couldn't even look at Callen, even though the man was gripping his shoulder. He was embarrassed by it all, so he stood and quickly left the room, not turning when he heard Hetty speak his name or when Sam tried to stop him. He looked briefly at Kensi, but the stunned look on her face made him want to run, to get away from all of them, to find himself, even though he had no idea how to do that anymore. He had wanted things back to normal, wanted to feel as he used to feel when he came here, but now he wasn't sure that was going to be possible. He wasn't sure where he belonged or if he would ever feel normal again or even what normal was for him now.
He leaned against his car, trying to decide where to go when he heard someone approaching and turned angrily to tell them to leave him alone. Kensi stood there in front of him, her face with that determined look, her eyes soft with concern and all his anger dissipated, leaving him feeling worn out with all the effort it had taken to face them all and tell the truth.
"Hey," he said.
"You trying to leave without me?"
"I don't even know where to go," he said, defeated and just plain tired.
"Why don't you let me decide that," she said with a soft smile as she took his hand and led him over to a red Indian motorcycle hiding on the other side of her Cadillac.
"Are you kidding me?" He said as he ran his hand over the tan leather seat.
She silently handed him a helmet and then strapped on her own, straddling the motorcycle as he watched, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"You coming?" She asked with a seductive smile.
He put on the helmet, his eyes never leaving her face, his heart pulsing in his ears as he got on behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands clinging to the soft leather of her jacket.
"Hang on tight, partner," she said with laughter in her voice as she revved the engine.
"Whatever you say, Fern," he replied, really smiling for the first time as they roared out of the parking lot.
...
The city blurred by as they sped along familiar streets on the Indian motorcycle, but Deeks concentrated on the feel of Kensi's body against his own. Even in the open air, he could smell the warmth of her hair and the freshness of her skin. He closed his eyes, letting the vibration and hum of the motorcycle and her intimate closeness ease the tension that had become a part of him over the last five months and probably even longer, now that he had the time to think about it. He felt the urge to toss his helmet, to let the freedom of the wind in his hair zone him out, to help him forget that his future was on the line. He wanted to be in the moment, not thinking about this morning or the last five months or Max or Callen or Sam or Hetty and least of all Granger. He tightened his hold on her, wondering once again why they had made it so hard on each other, first unwilling to acknowledge what they had, then afraid they might be wrong to love each other and try to work together. Their love had suffered, but its pull was still strong, drawing them like moths to a flame.
He savored the salty smell of the ocean and laughed with the piercing cries of the gulls as Kensi kept to the streets and highways along the coast. He hadn't had a chance to surf in a while, the fear of being discovered and blowing his cover outweighing the deep need to find some peace and a glimpse of his true self. He had slipped away once after a particularly long, rough night that had left him slightly battered, wearing another alias like a second or even third skin, not caring who he was, but knowing his soul needed the sea. He had gone to one of the seldom used beaches before the sun was barely up and paid a kid to let him use his board for an hour, stripping down to his boxers and riding the pounding waves until he was exhausted. It had left him feeling alive, but going back had been really tough, so he didn't do it again.
He rested his cheek on Kensi's shoulder, almost falling asleep as they cruised along Highway One, the motion and warm air lulling him with passing dreams. When Kensi pulled off onto surface streets, his mind slowly began to take notice, realizing he had never been to this part of Laguna Beach. He decided not to question her, enjoying the sense of surprise he felt without the fear that had followed him when finding himself in unknown territory the past year. She parked between a couple of SUVs on a residential street and his questioning smile was answered by a soft kiss and a beckoning finger and he was more than willing to go wherever she led him. They headed down the stairs between a couple of beachfront houses and he took a deep breath when he saw the secluded beach below, grabbing her hand to make her stop so he could take it all in.
"How did I not know about this place?" He said as his eyes swept along the steep cliffs and outcroppings of rocks, worn smooth by the waves.
"It's not a surf spot," she said quietly, something solemn in her eyes.
She tugged at his hand and he followed her down to the sand, quickly kicking off his shoes, unable to keep the crooked grin off his face. There were only a few solitary people around and he was glad it was Monday, leaving them virtually alone to savor the beauty of the sheltered beach.
"It's called Shaw's Cove," Kensi said as they stood at the edge of the gentle wave line.
"How did you find it?" He asked, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it back behind him.
"I Googled it," she said with an embarrassed smile.
"Seriously?" He saw something in her eyes again and stepped in front of her, running his hands up her arms. "There are lots of beaches you could have gone to."
"Too many people. Too many surfers," she said, looking past him to the ocean. "But none of them were you."
"Kens."
"I came here a lot over the past year," she said. "I'd watch the sunset and wonder where you were or if you were in danger. I felt close to you here. It's peaceful. I could think."
"We made a mistake didn't we?" He said softly, turning away from her to stare out at the ocean. "I made a mistake."
"And I let you make it," she whispered.
He closed his eyes when her hands came to rest on his bare back, longing for her to be closer, but unwilling to push, afraid he would ruin the moment like he had the past year.
"I should never have left," he said.
"Did you hear what I said?" She asked. "What happened wasn't just your fault. I let you go. I let you walk away without a fight. What does that say about me?"
He felt her step back, feeling the distance grow, but he stayed where he was, his mind struggling as the anger of Max Gentry flared through him. He couldn't go to her with the darkness he was harboring, so he walked into the water, his jeans soaking up the salt water as he waded in, finally swimming out around the reef in the clear water. Even though the weather was warm, the chill of the Pacific sharpened him and he pushed out beyond the reef toward deeper water, swimming hard, with long powerful strokes, his thoughts fading away the longer he swam. When he finally stopped, he floated on his back, watching the wispy clouds drifting across the pale sky as the sun beat down on him. Each wave surged beneath him, lifting him, rocking him in a calming motion that always brought him peace. He let himself sink beneath the surface, his arms moving gently by his side, the water stilling the remnant voice of Max Gentry, cleansing the sins he had committed in the cause of justice. When he rose back to the surface, his teeth were chattering and he welcomed the warmth of the midday sun. He felt the pull of the waves as they moved toward the beach, drawing him back to her. He couldn't resist that pull she had on him, no more than the waves could stop their headlong rush to the shore. He had tried and he had failed. So, he surrendered and followed the slow, relentless waves back to where she stood looking for him, rushing out of the water to wrap her in his arms, laughing as she screamed at the dripping wet, coldness of his skin, trying to escape, but laughing with him as they tumbled down together onto the warm sand.
"I hate you," she said.
"You said that once before, but you didn't mean it," he said as he looked down at her, dripping water all over her face.
"You weren't getting me all wet then," she said.
The wind blew her hair across her face, and as he brushed it away, he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and kissed her, lingering there for a brief moment before covering her mouth with his lips, wanting her beyond reason, wanting to have what he had given up, needing her more than he thought was possible.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips.
She kissed him deeply then, and he lost all sense of time until she rolled him over onto his back and sat straddling him, looking at him with dark eyes full of longing. He ran his hands up under her shirt, seeking the warmth of her silky skin and she shivered, smiling as he pulled her down onto his chest.
"You're shivering," she said.
"Then warm me up, Sunshine," he laughed.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly and he drifted, closing his eyes, his mind shutting out everything but the intoxicating feel of her lips as she placed warm, sensuous kisses on his eyes and nose and along his jaw line, finally returning to his lips. He lost himself in her kisses and the touch of her fingers as they traced his collarbone and then down the center of his chest. She rested her hands on his chest and lay her head between them, and he felt her tears fall.
"Kens? Please don't cry," he whispered.
"How could I let you go?" She said. "The first few months I came here, I told myself we had done the right thing. That I was right to let you go. But the more I came, the more I watched the waves and listened to the gulls the more I missed you. I even stopped coming for a few months, but it didn't help. I even looked for you when I was driving around, until my partner at the time asked me why we had circled the same block a couple of times. I thought I'd seen you go into a cafe and I couldn't help myself. The jerk even put it in his report. I never spoke to him again unless I had too. Callen and Sam finally went to Hetty and she found me a new partner."
"Jensen?" He said into her hair. "Nice choice, Hetty. Complete douche."
"He almost got me shot the day before you saved Callen and Sam," she confessed.
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her up so he could see her face, his own showing the fury he was feeling.
"I have to go back and talk to Granger," he said, the words rushing out as he pushed her aside and got to his feet. "He has to let me come back. You need a partner who will watch your back, not get you killed."
He picked up his shirt and put it on, trying to hurry, afraid the decision had already been made, realizing how stupid he had been to leave her with someone like Jensen. Kensi was smiling when she pushed his hands away and re-buttoned his shirt, leaving her hands on his chest when she finished, kissing him softly as he fumed.
"I love you," she said against his ear.
He stopped fidgeting as she wrapped her arms around him and he pulled her tightly to his chest, knowing just how precious she was to him and that now they had a second chance to make this work.
"Do you think it's a good idea to go see Granger in wet jeans and a shirt covered in wet sand?" She said, with her eyebrows up and that smug smile he loved.
"They'll dry on the way back," he said as he pulled her toward the stairs. 'And I'll leave the helmet off so my hair can dry, too."
"No way, Deeks." She said coming to a halt and pulling out her phone. "I'll call Nell and have her lay out some clothes for you."
He had his shoes on by the time she finished her call and they raced up the stairs and headed back to the mission.
...
Sam and Callen stood in front of Granger with their arms folded across their chests and determined looks on their faces. Eric and Nell stood off to one side, slightly less fierce looking than the two senior agents, but no less earnest in their support. The group confronted him just as he'd finished a heated conversation with Hetty that had left her fuming and now silent, making them even more upset than they already were. Granger's superior attitude had irritated Sam from the beginning and now the challenging look he projected had him seriously pissed off. He stood to his full height and stared back as only a Navy SEAL could, the muscle in his jaw flexing, resolved to get what all of them wanted.
"I guess I don't have to guess what this is about," Granger said lightly as he stood to face them.
"We want Deeks back," Sam said firmly and they all nodded in agreement.
"You don't pull your punches do you Agent Hanna?" He responded with a smirk.
"In this case? No." Sam said. "His record here speaks for itself."
"Show him Eric," Callen ordered.
"If you'll follow me, Assistant Director I have it all up on the screen in the bullpen," Eric said with a flourish.
The man stared down at Hetty, who smile angelically back at him, making him shake his head. He walked by Callen and Sam, who fell in behind him as if on guard duty. Eric went through four years worth of cases that Deeks had been a part of, with Nell explaining the ramifications of each and Deeks' specific contribution. It was quite an impressive display, and Sam found he had forgotten some of the incidents that might have failed if it were not for the detective. The times he had saved Kensi's life made Sam realize just how effective he was as a partner and he heard a couple of grunts from his own partner as they relived the past.
"Wasn't Deeks shot because his tradecraft was poor?" Granger asked. "And didn't that put Kensi at risk?"
"That was when he first got here and he stopped her attempted kidnapping and killed a wanted terrorist," Callen said. "The same day he was shot."
Eric quickly typed something into his tablet and footage from security cameras in the parking lot of the hospital showed the entire firefight and Deeks' collapse afterward. Sam watched Granger out of the corner of his eye and realized the man had never seen this footage, noting his intake of breath as Deeks fired.
"That wasn't the last time he saved one of our lives," Callen said quietly. "He always had our backs."
"He followed the team to Romania, Owen," Hetty said as she stepped quietly up beside him. "He didn't have to do that, and I greatly appreciated it."
"My wife would have been killed by Siderov if Deeks had broken under his torture," Sam said. "He saved me and my wife's life and I owe him."
"I know why you're in his corner Agent Hanna," Granger said. "But what about you, Agent Callen? Any heroic stories you want to share at this little party?"
"You have all the reports. You know what he's done. You've been in the field with him yourself, " Callen answered. "And you know what he did in Afghanistan, not only for me and Sam, but for you as well. He saved your life that day Assistant Director and I wonder why you don't want a man like that on this team."
"Who said I didn't?" Granger said, smiling as looks of disbelief and surprise settled on the faces around him.
"What are you playing at Owen?" Hetty asked.
"You know I only play to win, Henrietta," Granger answered. "Especially when it involves the future of a highly trained team such as yours. I can't afford to fail and neither can the rest of you. The stakes are too high. Deeks has been gone for almost a year and I watched this team try and regain its footing after he left. It was unbalanced and its effectiveness faltered. I needed to know if it was the loss of Deeks that caused it or if a replacement agent could right the ship. The replacements have been less than acceptable."
"We need him," Sam said. "Kensi needs him."
"And there's the tricky part," he replied. "You want him back, but will the same problems come up between them again if he returns?"
"No." Deeks said firmly as he rushed into the bullpen. "No, they won't."
"Somebody throw you off the pier, Deeks?" Granger asked, as he looked at the damp detective, and the trail of sand he left on the floor behind him.
"Sorry about my clothes. I meant to changed, but there was no time and we were in Laguna Beach at this cove and I went for a swim, but Kensi told me about Jensen almost getting her killed and I had to get here to tell you I need to be her partner," Deeks blurted out without stopping.
"Take a breath, Mr. Deeks," Hetty told him.
"Please," he said to Granger, his eyes pleading as Kensi came to stand beside him. "I promise not to destroy anymore hotel rooms."
Granger's eyes briefly flashed with annoyance and then he looked at all of them in turn until his eyes settled on Deeks.
"Pack a swimsuit next time, Detective." he said.
"Done," Deeks said quickly.
"Welcome back, Mr. Deeks," Granger said. "Now, since all of you are so good at pleading a case, someone please convince Hetty to share that bottle of pricey Scotch she has hidden in her bottom drawer."
"Oh no, Owen," Hetty said as she took Deeks' arm. "Mr. Deeks deserves a proper welcome home. Nell? Go open the '64 White Bowmore I hid in the armory and let's get this party started."
"What did you guys say to convince him?" Deeks asked as he passed Sam.
"We let your actions speak for you, Deeks," he answered as he pointed back at the big screen.
"And we made sure Nell left out the footage of you getting thrown in that canal in Venice," Callen whispered.
"We've got your back, brother," Sam said, his smile almost as wide as Deeks.
Kensi's fingers found his as they made their way into the armory and Sam's big hands rested on each of their shoulders, his laugh echoing through the building.
"Man, I love happy endings."
...
...
The End
...