Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc, are property of the original creators. All original characters, settings, etc, are mine. No profit is being made from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Also ... I somehow managed to delete all the chapters but #2 from the original story on here. I thought I had clicked Document Manager and didn't pay enough attention until FF wouldn't let me delete the last chapter up from a story. No more multitasking for me. *headdesks* So if you get multiple notifications, I apologize. Chapter 4 is the only new one.

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G Callen never slept for very long at a time. He was usually up and about for over half the night, catching cat naps here and there and working on various things the rest of the time. It had driven Sam nuts when Callen had stayed at his friend's place. He was pretty sure Sam had been relieved when Hetty finally convinced Callen to get his own house.

Tonight was no different. It was half-past 3 am, and Callen had just settled down when suddenly, he froze, listening intently. A sound had caught his ear; it was the faintest of scratches, but it had him tensing in anticipation. It sounded suspiciously like a lock being picked.

He rose from the floor, padding towards the window that looked out towards the street. Placing his back against the wall, feeling the coolness of it against his bare skin, he snuck a look through the window. There were no shadowy figures at the door, and he didn't see anyone in the front yard. Turning, he made his way to the back of the house. One good thing about having no furniture was not having to worry about making his way through an obstacle of chairs, tables, and other items.

The sound came again, louder this time, and definitely from the backside of the house. The door began to open slowly, and Callen stepped back into the shadows of the hallway.

Two men entered, shutting the back door stealthily behind them. They looked around, as if surprised by the lack of furniture, before splitting up. One headed towards one side of the house, away from Callen's hiding place, while the other started directly towards where the agent had concealed himself.

Callen waited until the intruder passed in front of him, then he sprang into action. A quick step and swing across the back of the neck, and the hooded figure slumped to the ground, with only a light grunt to tell the tale.

Leaving the man where he had fallen for the time being, Callen turned and crept towards the other side of the house. The second intruder was just returning, having checked the bedrooms and closets and found nothing. He paused when he spotted Callen in the middle of the room, but only for a brief moment before charging.

Callen braced himself, swinging a foot up to connect with the oncoming man's abdomen. It was a solid hit, and the man stumbled back a few steps.

In that moment, Callen made his own advance, attacking with a one-two combination that spun the other man to the side. Not deterred, the intruder swung his own punch, but Callen dodged and countered with a roundhouse kick to the side.

The kick nearly dropped the man, but he recovered and delivered a heavy blow that nearly took Callen to the ground. He blinked, shaking his head to clear it as he concentrated on his opponent. Callen could feel the bruise starting to form on his cheekbone, but ignored it in favor of the fight. He brought his foot up to land squarely in the man's stomach, delivering a powerful uppercut to the chin that finally brought the intruder to the ground.

Callen placed his hands on his knees, resting his chin against his bare chest as he caught his breath before restraining the two intruders.

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Sam Hanna jolted awake. Something was wrong.

It was nothing on which he could put his finger yet, but he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sitting up in bed, he paused. There was no light coming in his window, though he knew he had turned on the outside lights before heading to bed. The bulbs were probably just burned out, although he had just replaced them the week before. It might be time to buy a new brand.

He heard nothing out of the ordinary but decided to investigate anyway, if for nothing else than to give himself the peace of mind that all was well. He retrieved his gun from the drawer and checked the clip before opening his bedroom door. He saw stars the minute he stepped into the hall.

Something had connected with the side of his skull, and he felt blood trickling down over his ear as he turned to face the threat. His movements were a little slow as he tried to regain his sight from the gray that had overtaken it. The spots cleared just in time for him to see a gun leveled at his chest.

"Drop the gun," the intruder demanded." Or I put a bullet through your chest and another through your stomach."

Though the man wore a mask, his voice sounded familiar, and Sam's eyes narrowed as he tried to place it.

"Now!" the man barked.

The ringing of a phone broke into the confrontation, but both men ignored it. Sam was calculating a move when, suddenly, the pressure of another gun barrel touched his back.

"I'd do as he said," came a voice from behind him.

Before Sam could make any further moves, a flash of light exploded in front of his eyes, and he collapsed.

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The apartment was quiet and still when Kensi Blye awoke. She turned over, trying to get back to sleep, and noticed with some annoyance that the clock was dark. She shrugged it off to a power outage and settled into her pillow, about to drift back off when a muffled thump came from the hallway. Sitting up, she reached for the handgun she kept under her pillow, checking that it was loaded more out of habit than necessity - she had made sure to load the clip when she went to bed that night.

She stood, her bare feet sinking into the carpet as she took a slow step towards the hallway. Another few steps and she was standing beside the door. She braced herself, the wall cool through the back of her camisole. She held her gun at the ready in front of her chest, listening intently.

She could hear footfalls outside the room. Two men, she judged, and her mind began to spin through the reasons for them to break into her apartment. Most were not pretty. Gritting her teeth in determination, she waited to see if they would pass her room for the living area beyond, where most crooks would head to make off with a television or stereo. If they entered her room, however, she would guarantee they would get more than they bargained for.

The doorknob turned just then, the door creaking open slowly. Kensi waited, letting the man enter before showing herself. "Put your hands where I can see them," she demanded calmly. She waved the gun towards the bed. "Have a seat. Your partner can do the same."

The two men paused for a moment, obviously surprised at the turn of events. They were clothed completely in black, with ski masks obscuring their faces.

"Now," Kensi ordered, raising her volume. "Or I promise you won't have to worry about being arrested."

Moving to do as she ordered, the men suddenly stopped. Kensi could almost see the understanding that passed between them just before they charged her.

The sharp report of gunshots rang through the apartment, and footsteps began pounding in the hallway outside the front door as Kensi secured the intruder who was still conscious. She shook her head at him.

"You should have done what I asked."

Just then, her phone rang. She grabbed it from the dresser. "This is Kensi."

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It was a fairly normal night for Marty Deeks. He'd picked up dinner on his way back to the apartment, just some Chinese from the little take-out place on the corner, and eaten in front of the television. Around midnight, he'd headed off to bed, setting the alarm on his clock before drifting off.

He wasn't a hard sleeper, exactly, but he wasn't exactly a light one either. At some point in the middle of the night, however, he awoke with a sense that something wasn't right. The room was dimly lit from the moonlight that came through the blinds, and he made out two dark forms that didn't belong in his doorway.

Halfway noting that the face of his clock was dark, Deeks sprung from the bed, calculating going for his gun or duking it out. The intruders rushed him, and he met the first one with a swift kick to the gut. As the man doubled over, Deeks delivered a punch to the other's face. The man cupped his nose with a grunt of pain, and Deeks followed through with a second punch that left his opponent unconscious.

Before he could turn on the other intruder, the man gave Deeks a sharp punch of his own. It was well-thrown, and Deeks slumped insensible to the floor.

The two men ignored the cell phone on the dresser that began to ring as they dragged their prisoner towards the apartment door.

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Eric Beal never saw it coming. The tech operator had been up until about two that morning, having gotten carried away with his new computer project. He was sprawled on his couch, snoring softly, when his backdoor eased open.

Two shadowy figures entered, slipping towards the bedroom with the utmost caution. Failing to find their objective there, they returned, checking each room as they went. Arriving in the living room, they glanced at each other before getting to work.

When Eric's cell rang moments later, there was no one in the house to hear it.