A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates. I had some minor health issues which made it difficult to concentrate on writing and I've been writing this particular chapter for weeks.

Pep Talks and Motels

Deeks walked–well, snuck was probably a better word he decided as he checked over his shoulder–through the mission house basement entrance. It wasn't that he was hiding anything, he just hoped to avoid the inevitable dressing-down from Hetty for as long as possible and he knew she was less likely to monitor that particular entrance.

He'd driven himself to work this morning which he technically hadn't been cleared to do by his surgeon. He was more than capable of driving with one hand but that didn't mean his colleagues, fiancé or boss would be so understanding. The chastisement was worth it though; he'd arrived before anyone but the lowliest of grunt workers and most likely Hetty, because she was always first no matter what time of day or night it was.

Deep down, he knew it was a cowardly move, but he'd woken up early that morning with Kensi tucked against his side. She'd looked so peaceful, free from the worry and tension that had become their reality lately. For a moment he'd forgotten everything, their argument and near breakup, the fear that had plagued him for only god knew how long. For that moment he'd simply basked in the joy of having Kensi by his side.

Then their conversation from the previous night had crept in. To say that it hadn't played out how he'd imagined was a bit of an understatement. That had been happening a lot lately. Of course he hadn't expected his apology to magically fix everything; there was still a lot of hurt and misunderstanding on both their ends to deal with and that would certainly take time.

She didn't owe him any forgiveness and he knew he'd spend the next several years of his life regretting what he'd said to Kensi in that parking garage. He didn't know how he could convince her that he was willing to give up a 'normal' life as long as she would have him.

All of that had coursed through his mind as he lay next to Kensi and he knew the tension and wariness would return as soon as she woke up. Rather than ruin his moment of fantasy, he'd scooched out of bed as quietly as possible, showered downstairs, let Monty out for a few minutes and then drove his truck to work.

He'd sent her a text before leaving, hoping that it would offset any upset at finding him gone, citing unfinished LAPD paperwork as an excuse. Hopefully Kensi would be distracted enough by him driving to question it. At the very least, it would keep her from worrying about where he was.

Deeks took a shortcut down a small hallway which lead to the gym and nearly jumped out of his skin when the lights flicked on overhead.

"Hmm, sneaking in through the back door. I didn't realize we were back in high school," Callen said, smirking broadly. He leaned against the doorway to the gym, one leg crossed over the other and looking way too smug for this time of the morning.

"Geez man, I'm already in weakened condition are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Deeks said, clutching his chest dramatically. Completely unmoved, Callen rolled his eyes and shifted off the wall.

"I just watched you jog up two flights of stairs, I think you'll be fine," he said dryly. "You never said why you're creeping around in the dark."

"I need to finish up some paperwork for LAPD," Deeks explained, deciding it was the excuse of the day. He walked towards the door, bypassing Callen. After a moment, he followed after Deeks because apparently six-freaking-thirty in the morning wasn't too early to be tortured by your bored teammates.

"Cause you haven't had any spare time to do paperwork, what with you being home for three weeks and then tied to your desk all day." Deeks didn't bother replying and continued walking, albeit more slowly than normal which meant Callen had no trouble keeping up. "I don't suppose this little detour wouldn't have anything to do with you driving yourself to work today, would it?" Callen asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice that could either mean he was just messing with Deeks or planned to have a talk with Hetty, depending on his mood.

"You never mentioned what you're doing here so early, or why you're watching me, which is class A stalker material, I might add."

"I couldn't sleep," Callen said simply.

"And you couldn't find anyone else to bug?" Deeks guessed, looking at Callen skeptically as he drew even with him.

"Where's Kensi?"

"I really don't want to have this talk right now," Deeks said fervently. No matter how well intentioned, he was definitely not feeling up to a heart-to-heart with Callen.

"Yeah, too bad. Everybody knows something's going on with you two. Hell, we knew it when you couldn't hold eye contact for more than a second on the plane," he said mercilessly and Deeks held back a groan.

"If you're worried about it affecting our ability to work, you don't have to. We've got things covered."

"Really, then you wanna explain why you're avoiding her?" Deeks spun around, his frustration bubbling over as he came to a stop in front of Callen.

"I screwed up, said some really stupid things, even for me before we left for Mexico, and now I'm don't if we're getting married, let alone if we have a future together. Are you happy now?" Deeks said, watching with bitter satisfaction as Callen's eyes widened briefly in the face of his anger.

"Ok, obviously you've been holding that in for a while," he said after a long moment.

"This isn't funny," Deeks said.

"I agree. You said you guys talked?"

"Yeah," he said with a sigh, his anger deserting him as quickly as it had appeared. "I apologized and Kensi said she forgave, me but," he shook his head and swiped at his hair. "I don't know man, she's hanging onto what I said and I don't know how to fix it."

"Sometimes these things take time to heal, or so I've been told," Callen said, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he tended to whenever relationships or emotions where mentioned. If Deeks had been in a better frame of mind he might have found the entire situation amusing.

"I keep feeling like I'm two seconds from losing everything and it's terrifying. You know Kensi is…I don't know what I'll do if she leaves me. She's literally my world." He sucked in a shallow breath; it was the first time he'd fully verbalized his fears without keeping anything back. It was simultaneously terrifying and a relief.

Callen cocked his head and smiled wryly.

"Well, loathe as I am to say it, you guys are good for each other and I know you'll work things out eventually," he said and then, surprising Deeks more than the unexpected pep talk, he reached out and squeezed his shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "And I'm sure if you need some time, no one he here will blame you. Both of you have earned a break."

Kensi was waiting by her desk when he and Callen finally walked into the bullpen. It was barely 7 o'clock. He could tell right away that she was on edge, but trying to hide it. Her phone was clutched in one hand and she was leaning against her desk, a frown creasing her eyebrows. She looked up as they walked in and a look of relief crossed her face.

"I'm gonna go check on the weapons roster," Callen announced, eyeing them both with a knowing look. Kensi waited just long enough for the sound of his footsteps to fade before she crossed the space between them, giving him no choice but to face her.

"You were gone when I woke up," she said, the statement simple but holding so much meaning with the hurt coloring her voice.

"I texted you," Deek explained as though there was any chance Kensi would let it go at that.

"Yeah, I saw it. I was still worried. What's going on?"

"Nothing, I just–"

"Deeks, you left home before six to come here and do non-existent paperwork," Kensi interrupted, glancing around her before she continued, lowering her voice, "We can't fix things if we're not honest with each other. Are you upset with what I said last night, I know it's not what you wanted to hear." Deeks held back a frustrated, humorless chuckle and rubbed his eyes. Of course Kensi would assume she was to blame for this.

"Kensi, I swear this has nothing to do with you. It's all me," he said. Kensi stepped even closer, laying a hand on his cheek that nearly broke him with its gentleness. If he wasn't careful he'd lose all of this.

"Then tell me," she begged. "Tell me what's going on so we can figure it out together."

"Kens–" A sharp no-nonsense whistle cut him off as Eric ran halfway down the stairs.

"Guys, we found Ronald McCullough. Everybody up in OSP, Sam's on his way," he said quickly, then noting that it was only the two of them added, "I'll text Callen."

"God, doesn't anybody on this team sleep anymore," Deeks muttered, turning back to Kensi who didn't look even slightly amused. He sucked in a shallow breath and blew it back out slowly, while Kensi continued to watch him, unrelenting as she waited for him to respond..

"I know you want answers, but right now I'm not even sure what they are," he said honestly. "But as soon as I do, I will tell you."

"I'll hold you to that," Kensi said seriously. "We better get upstairs before Hetty comes looking for us." They walked up the stairs together and he could have sworn he saw Kensi's hand twitch a couple times as though she was fighting back the impulse to take his hand.

They walked into OSP and Hetty greeted them with a nod, looking immaculate in a burgundy suit and not at all surprised that the majority of her team was present two hours earlier than expected. Deeks followed Kensi to behind the table. Callen walked in behind them a few seconds later, making Deeks think that he hadn't actually bothered to go all the way to the weapons room, but had merely lingered in the hallway.

"Let's get started, we can catch Sam up when he arrives," Hetty said.

"Ok," Nell said, pivoting to face Kensi, Deeks and Callen. 'So after looking through Ronald McCullough's records, we found that about a month ago he emptied one of his bank accounts which held about $40,000. It also appears that around that same time he stopped using his personal email accounts, cell phone and any websites connected to his counterfeiting business," Nell explained, clicking through a series of forms that showed McCullough's bank accounts and phone records.

"He's hiding from someone. Which is why he cleared out the warehouse," Kensi summed up.

"Exactly. But exactly who that someone might be, we're not sure."

"Well, he definitely wasn't on our radar yet, was another agency looking into him?" Callen asked.

"Not that I'm aware of. He's never been arrested and there are no open warrants for him. When he communicated with clients it was always through encrypted emails and word on the street is that he never met with any of them in person," Eric said.

"How'd his clients contact him in the first place?" Deeks asked.

"It appears he had another office, which we haven't located yet, disguised as a furniture company. Potential clients could go there and request various ID's based on a series of code words such as, entertainment system. That's probably where the pickup was as well." Eric said.

"So where's he been hiding out?" Callen asked.

"Well, certainly not his two story penthouse," Eric said, displaying a picture of an ultramodern building that probably cost a couple million at least. Deeks let out a low whistle. "To say business was doing well is a bit of an understatement."

"And his current location, Mr. Beale," Hetty prompted.

"Of course, Hetty. We put a BOLO out on Ronald McCullough's Porsche just in case and late last night it was spotted by an LAPD patrolmen outside a diner in Reseda. Apparently he couldn't bear to part with it. The patrolmen called it in and we were able to track him to the Happy Days Motel using security cams."

Nell displayed a new picture of a pay-by-day motel that looked distinctly decrepit, especially beside the shiny penthouse. Deeks decided that the owner must have a sense of humor because the place looked anything but happy.

"Classy," he said wryly. "He must be pretty desperate to make such a downgrade."

"Yeah, his lifestyle has taken a definite downturn recently."

"What'd I miss? I got a text from Nell saying they found McCullough." Sam said as the doors to OSP slid open and he swung through on his crutches.

"Yeah, he's on the run from persons unknown and living in a super luxurious motel called Happy Days," Deeks by way of greeting, sliding a chair forward which Sam accepted with a grateful smile. Sam glanced at the picture on screen and grimaced.

"This is one time I'm glad I have a bum leg. Those places always smell like old beer, stale cigarettes, and puke," he said.

"Thanks for reminding me," Kensi said, her nose flaring with disgust.

"Alright, Mr. Callen and Miss Blye, please apprehend Mr. McCullough. I'm getting quite sick of hearing his name. Sam, I'd like you to complete the weapons log for the month and Deeks I've scheduled you to meet with the FBI. They want to confirm a few details from your interview," Hetty instructed each of them in turn.

Deeks held back a sigh; he'd already been questioned by the FBI twice. He nodded instead and tightened the strap on his sling out of habit.

"Oh, and they'll be meeting you in one of the conference rooms here so there's no need for you to bother driving," Hetty added pointedly, glaring at Deeks for a moment before she left.

They quietly dispersed, Kensi following close behind Callen as he badgered Sam about his slow pace. Deeks thought he was in serious danger of getting whacked with one of Sam's crutches if he kept it up. He wasn't sure if she was purposefully avoiding him at the moment or simply eager to retrieve McCullough.

It was probably a good thing either way; he seemed incapable of saying the right thing these days.

The Happy Days Motel was even less appealing in person. It consisted of three separate units of about 20 rooms each and a smaller building which Kensi figured was the office. The rusting orange sign out front was tilting precariously and one of the 'p's and the 'h' were missing from the word 'happy'. They followed the rusty arrows that pointed to the front office, walking into a musty smelling room that contained a couple of chairs, a fake plant and a middle-aged man behind the front desk.

"Rooms are $30 for a day and night, two dollars off a night if you pay for a week in advance. TV's are $15 a night. Cash or credit only," he said without looking up. Callen cleared his throat and the man slowly lifted his head, his expression bored.

"We're not looking for a room. I'm Agent Callen and this is Agent Blye, we're from NCIS," Callen said, briefly displaying his badge. The man's eyebrows lifted and he looked mildly interested.

"Have you seen this man?" Kensi asked, sliding a picture of Ronald McCullough onto the desk. A flurry of dust erupted in its wake and she fought back a sneeze.

"Yeah, he's been renting a room for about three weeks I think. Hasn't caused any trouble, but I guess you never can tell. Hey, this isn't about his car is it? I told him a dozen times that it was gonna get stolen and–"

"Sir, we're not here about his car. We just need to know what room he's in," Kensi interrupted.

"Room 23."

Room 23 was located in the second building at the center of the lot on the second floor. Callen pounded on the dull red door, right below the peeling number and called out, "NCIS."

There was no response and he nodded to Kensi, who removed her gun and readied herself as he knocked a second time. She heard a faint creak, like someone taking a step over a loose board and she glanced up at Callen again. He shifted slightly behind her as she lifted her leg and drove her heal into the lock. It crashed open with a sharp splintering noise, the entire locking mechanism breaking off in the process.

As she knocked the door open all the way, she heard a shot and a bullet passed just over her head, imbedding itself in the railing before her. She ducked to the side as Callen popped his head into the room and fired his gun, quickly concealing himself behind the wall again when two more shots were returned.

"He's in the bathroom," he whispered, letting Kensi know the location of the shooter. She nodded, leaning around the edge of the door and aiming for the man peeking out of the bathroom at the opposite end of the room. She didn't get a great look, before he disappeared again but from what she could tell, the shooter wasn't Ronald McCullough.

"Cover me," Kensi whispered, earning a nod from Callen who prepared to pop up once she'd entered the room. "1, 2…" Just as she started to say three, a second man came barreling out from Callen's side of the room, crashing into both of them. She had just enough time to see that it was Ronald McCullough and though his tackle had been clumsy and off-center it was enough to knock her to the ground.

Her gun skittered across the cement and she groaned as her head slammed against the hard surface. She was on her stomach, McCullough trying to hold her in place as she kicked out and bucked in an attempt to displace him. Around them, she heard the gunfire continue and she renewed her struggles, managing to flip them over and punch him in the stomach.

He let out a grunt of pain, but kept a hold around Kensi's middle which he used to shove her face first into the railing. A second later she felt his other arm wrap around her throat, cutting off her air. She gasped and choked, digging at his jacket covered arm as her vision started to darken.