Come What May
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the shows.
Chapter 1
The darkness coupled with the smoky atmosphere contrasted with the single light hanging above the table. The combination of dim and bright made the six people seated around the table feel as though nothing existed past their puddle of light. Crackling silence added to the ambiance as no one moved more than necessary.
That stillness was interrupted when the barrel of a shotgun intruded into the circle. A click signalled its presence as it had slipped in unannounced and possibly uninvited.
A pair of blue eyes under blonde brows rolled upwards from focussing on the table to meet the business end of the shotgun until they stared directly at each other. A smirk formed below the eyes as a pair of hands raised from the table. The head tipped to the side as if asking permission. The barrel gave a short jerk upwards, granting it.
The left hand reached across and tugged down the right sleeve. The right repeated the motion with the other side. When the shotgun retreated, the smirk grew into a grin and the hands reached out to drag in the pile of poker chips residing in the middle of the table.
Four other people showed their displeasure in various, but muted ways. After all, this was the purpose of the night's activity: play until only one was left. It just hadn't happened in the normal way and the four felt a bit cheated by the lack of entertainment. Nonetheless, they each left the table with lighter bank accounts, except for the one who left $8 million heavier.
"…Come look at this." A hand gestured at the tablet. "Look at the results I have when I ran the fingerprints."
"Neil Diamond" A face came along with the ID that matched their body.
"We assume there's no relation." The comment came from behind the pair. "Now, I was logged in to your system when I ran the fingerprints, not realizing that I was repeating the analysis. Look what I got." A hand from the back gestured to the computer screen. A similar picture showed but with a different name.
"Detective Marty Deeks?"
Callen stretched and grunted at the stiffness in his neck. Things were moving quickly; normally this was nice – cases were solved quicker, paperwork was cut back, and the higher-ups had to begrudgingly admit that the unit was useful. This time things were different because they were working with rapidly changing factors and a limited support staff.
"A day late and a dollar short." He mumbled to himself. Mrs. Jasper, one of his foster moms, loved her sayings and that was one of her favourites. It was used often to describe her sister that was always either tardy, broke, or both. Callen was feeling like if Mrs. Jasper walked in the room, she'd tsk at him, tug his clothes in an attempt to pull out the wrinkles, and hand him a couple dollar bills for the vending machine.
He rolled out of his dive motel room's bed and headed for the bathroom. If he kept his eyes shut he could pretend he was still sleeping. "A day late" he mumbled again. Not having Eric or Nell to work their wizardry the night before to get him on the same plane meant he was in the wrong city the next morning. He was driving to the airport when Sam called to bug him about not picking him up for work. Apologizing, he begged off sick and earned himself a lecture from his partner. But he'd bought himself 24 hours.
Then Hetty called. That excuse didn't fly with her so he played the only card he could without digging himself deeper into trouble.
"It's for McCoy." Callen said quietly.
Hetty sighed. Then she sighed again, only deeper this time. "Oh."
"I didn't mean for this to happen, it just…"
"Fell into Mr. Deeks' lap?"
It was Callen's turn to sigh. "Yes. He didn't know, of course."
"How could he?" Hetty asked, then paused. "You keep me in the loop and check in." It was permission, of sorts.
"I know."
"No, I mean it. There's good people out there and I expect you to use them."
"Yes, Hetty."
"Does he know?"
"Not yet. I didn't get a chance. I might need some support."
"You have it."
"Also, can you tell Sam? But later?"
"I will. Stay safe."
Callen had ended the call and hopped the first flight he could. The stress of the night caught up with him when his feet touched the tarmac and he had found the first place he could and crashed for a three hour nap. That, combined with a fresh set of clothes and a snack from the vending machine put him in a much better mindset. With a destination in mind, he checked out of the motel and pointed his rental towards it.
The pair looked down at the body. Then they looked at each other. Unsure of what to do, they called up a third.
"Got anything for us?"
The voice came through the speaker of the cell, tinny and quiet. "The identity is not confirmed, nor do we know anything past what we learned at the scene. Come back and we'll regroup at the office. Give a head's up to security to keep a look out. I got a feeling about this one."
