Note: Sorry in advance, but this is another short chapter. That's what I get for writing a story with an actual case story, I'm forced to include filler and exposition. Ah well. Essentially this chapter really deals with what the camera's don't always see; AKA, boring car rides to different locations, small talk, and of course, mistakes. Sam and Callen are badasses, but not every situation is filled with danger. The next chapter will feature some fun Deeks and Kensi stuff, which I enjoy, except right now its only half written, so I have to get crackin. This is my last "Buffer chapter" which means I have to write a lot more. I definitely want to keep up weekly updates, but it all depends on how much free time I can grab. Whatever, that is a the future, which I hate thinking about and you should to. You should focus on the present, which is this chapter, which I hope you enjoy.
"Thanks Eric." Callen snapped his phone shut.
"You gotta stop doing that." Sam chided as they barreled down the highway.
"What?"
"Flipping your phone shut."
"It makes me feel like a secret agent." Callen grinned. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, but you've gone through more cell phones than the rest of us combined. Hetty will kill you if you break another one."
"Is now really the best time to reprimand me on my treatment of my phone?"
"Well it's a ten minute drive to Connor's house, so unless you can teleport us there, we have some time to kill." He grinned.
Callen rolled his eyes and cranked up the radio. The sound of hard rock filled car.
Sam grimaced in distaste.
"Rude."
Exactly ten aggravating minutes later, they pulled into the gravel driveway of Connor's home.
"You wanna go in loud or quiet." Sam asked his partner. Callen mulled it over.
"Quiet. We can always pull our guns if it we need to. I've found going in loud without reason doesn't always end well."
"Bringing up Algeria? Really?" Sam shook his head sadly, "That was one time G, one time."
Callen smiled as they walked up to the doorway.
"Don't dish out criticism if you can't take it."
Sam rolled his eyes as he knocked on the door.
"Chelsea, it's Sam and Callen. We have a couple more questions." He called out. They waited a few moments, but heard no reply.
"Maybe she's not home ye-" Callen began but was cut off by the sound of breaking glass.
Without a word, Sam ran towards the back while Callen kicked in the door with practiced ease. Another smooth motion brought his gun to his side. He flicked off the safety.
"Chelsea?" He asked quietly, unsure if he would find the reporter or an enemy around the next corner.
He whirled towards the sound of crunching glass that came from the end of the hall. As he crept towards the door that the sound had emanated from, he briefly considered attempting to break it down, but instead eased it open noiselessly.
He needn't have bothered.
Chelsea stood in the middle of the room, headphones blasting as she swept up the remains of what looked like a vase. She swayed in time with the music, at least until she caught a glance of the NCIS agent standing sheepishly by the door.
She screamed at the same moment Sam rushed in through the same door, gun drawn. He hastily lowered his weapon once he realized there wasn't a threat.
"Oh, We uh-"
"You're in my house!" She cut him off. "How did you get in here, you have no right..." Callen rolled his eyes as she berated them.
"Listen," He began over the sounds of her protests. "We know about the Laundromat where Ansouri was staying." Chelsea fell silent. Sam raised an eyebrow.
"She's not so talkative now."
"Nope." Callen agreed. "Don't you think it's time you told us what's really going on?"
The reporter raised her head.
"No." She said simply. Sam sighed.
"Listen," Callen tried again. "Just tell us what Ansouri wants."
"You'd never believe me."
"That's the only option you have of getting out of here without being charged with obstruction of justice. Maybe a bit of domestic terrorism thrown in there too."
Chelsea hesitated.
"It's not a choice between integrity and freedom, it's a choice between withholding evidence and freedom." She caved and her eyes fell to the ground.
"He's not...he's not a terrorist. He got in touch with me a year and a half ago, he said that he's seen to much blood spilled. He was tired of the death and just wanted to peacefully end conflicts for a change. I learned so much from him, I was able to write about what had truly happened, rather than what military reports said. And then he asked me for a meeting with some influential people, senators, the governor. He just wants support. I gave him a pass to get into the Gala, just so that he could see we're as anxious for peace than he is."
Callen glanced at Sam for a moment.
"Chelsea," He said, choosing his words carefully, "What if I told you that at the laundromat Ansouri was staying, we found parts for a bomb."
Sam frowned, but said nothing. Chelsea stared openly at Callen in disbelief.
"No, no but he..." She trailed off. Callen stood up.
"I think it's best if you came with us."
"But, the vase..." She motioned weakly towards the broken glass that lay nearly forgotten on the floor.
"We'll send some people to clean it up, along with your door." Sam assured her.
"What happened to my door?" She asked sharply. Sam and Callen traded glances.
"Uh, you'll see on the way out."
