Chris Santori did not argue when they'd asked him to accompany them for more questioning.

He'd walked into the interrogation room as though it were a comfortable and familiar place.

Callen sat down at the table while Sam stood by the window with his arms crossed, glaring at the ex-seal.

Santori took the seat across the table from Callen and turned the chair around and sat, laying his arms across the back.

"What?" he asked, a trace of challenge in his voice.

Callen slid Deeks' picture across the table, "You've never seen this man before?"

Chris glanced at the photo, scowling, "I told the other agent; I've never seen him before except when you guys keep showing me his picture."

Sam stepped up, looming over him, "So you weren't the guy who came up from behind him and put a restrain and disable hold on him until he died?"

Callen leaned across the table, "Attacking a guy from behind kind of keeps you from seeing his face when you kill him."

"It's a coward's way." said Sam.

"And that isn't my way of doing things." Santori insisted.

"So you'd kill him face to face?" asked Callen.

"If he's the one who killed Robert, and he weren't already dead, hell yeah, I'd kill him face to face."

"That so?"

Chris got to his feet and stood toe to toe with Sam, though the agent was a few inches taller, Santori outweighed him by a few pounds.

"That's so."

"You have the training for this Santori; you have the ability to kill them both and your alibi is two guys who would lie for you."

"I didn't kill them!" Chris shouted.

Callen got up and came around the table, "Come on guys, let's not make this about us, it's about finding who killed Robert."

Sam and Santori each took a few steps back but continued to glare at each other.

"I found out who the guys were that got the party closed down." Chris said, his voice was still angry, "One of the guys was McNeil Everett and the other one was Dwight Salas."

"What makes you think that they had anything to do with Robert's death?" Sam rumbled, his stare drilling into Santori.

"I don't know if they had anything to do with it, but I'm sure as hell not having any luck with finding out who that guy is," he jabbed his index finger at the photo of Deeks, "or what he had to do with it!"

"Calm down, Santori," Callen paced back,

"Fuck you; I seem to be having more luck with getting information about his death than you do!"

Sam started toward Chris again but G intercepted him, nodding toward the door.

"We're not giving up on this investigation," Callen assured Chris, "We will find out who did this."

"Can I go now?"

"Yes, we'll drive you back." Callen offered.

"I'd rather walk."

"Seventeen miles?"

"I'm not going home yet." Chris growled.

"Stay out of our way on this case Santori." Sam threatened.

"Or what?" Santori's eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Sam. We should get back and check with Kensi."

Sam turned and led the way out of the interrogation room, slamming the door open, not caring. He and Callen followed Santori out the front door and stood in the sun watching the other man walk toward the street.

"You still think he's the one who killed Lansing and almost killed Deeks?" G asked his partner.

Sum huffed, still tense and angry. "He's got the skills for it."

"He's also got an alibi."

"Yeah, but it's not the best I've ever heard."

XxXxXx

"Mr. Hanna, Callen. I have a new case for you." Hetty laid the file on Sam's desk. "A Navy seaman named Eddie Tyler was murdered behind the cathedral on Main Street."

Callen tilted his head and squinted at her, "And why are you telling us this?"

She looked nonplussed, "Because it's your new case, Mr. Callen."

"I meant why are you telling us about it and not Eric?" he persisted.

"Mr. Beal is busy on another project right now." she tapped the file "Now if you two would please get to work on this, the body is not getting any fresher and I am certain Miss Carlyle would like to get to it sometime today."

"Where are you going?" asked Callen.

"What makes you think that I am going anywhere?" Hetty asked with an innocent smile.

Callen's eyebrow went up and he cocked his head, "I'm a trained observer, you're wearing your power suit and scarf."

Hetty grinned, "I am meeting someone for tea this afternoon. I hope that we can exchange information."

"Tea, huh?" Sam laughed, "Exchange? I bet you come away with more than you give up."

"That's the plan, Mr. Hanna."

"Well good luck anyway and be careful. This town is full of rough and tough people."

"And I, am one of them." Hetty walked back to her office.

XxXxXx

Eddie Tyler was lying face up on the concrete, his head in the exact center of a sticky red halo.

"Interesting." said Callen, circling the body, "looks like he was shot here."

Tyler's arms were splayed out and one leg was bent. The expression frozen on his bearded face was that of angry surprise.

Sam looked around at the buildings, "Maybe someone heard the shot, maybe saw something."

Rose Carlyle, the coroner, tapped her foot impatiently, "Could we get on with this please, I'm still behind on my other cases."

Sam smiled at her and she tried hard not to return the smile but failed.

"How do you do that?" Callen teased his partner, "She can never stay mad at you."

"It's a secret," he smirked, "If I told you…"

"Yeah, yeah, you'd have to kill me."

Rose did a quick check on the body.

"Cause of death will most likely be gunshot wound to the head." she turned the head side to side. "Looks like a .38 or .45, rigor hasn't set completely so he was probably killed within the last hour. The shooter was at least five feet away. There are perimortem bruises on his ribs, both lower legs and some scratches on his right arm, all a day or two old. No defensive wounds."

Sam nodded, "Consistent with someone who had been in a fight."

"Robbery?" Callen wondered.

"Doubt it," Rose tossed a black leather wallet to Sam. "He still had this in his pocket.

Sam shook his head, "Cash and credit cards are still in the billfold." he thumbed through the paper money, "Seems like an unusual amount for a seaman to be carrying around. There must be five hundred dollars in here."

"LAPD is holding the guy who found the body." Rose used her ink pen to point to the men who stood over at the corner of the building.

"Thanks, Rose." Sam smiled at her.

Rose blushed a little, fluffed her hair and turned back to her examination of the body.

Officer Drake Reed introduced himself to the NCIS agents and then introduced Max Williamson.

Max was an architectural student visiting LA from Springfield, Missouri.

Max had been taking shots of the cathedral when he'd heard the gunshot.

"I was over here getting a shot of the cornices when I heard it." the young man explained. "At first I wasn't sure what it was, I thought maybe it was just a car backfiring. A few minutes later some guys ran that way." He pointed to the south. "When I came around back, I saw the dead guy."

"How'd you know he was dead? Did you walk over to him, touch him?" Sam asked.

"Heck no! I could see the blood on the ground and I watch TV. I know you're supposed to wait for the CSI people to catch the bad guy."

Callen grinned and cocked his head at Officer Reed who grinned back.

"I ain't no dumb hillbilly, you know." Williamson continued. "Here." he opened his camera and pulled out the SD card, "I took some shots of the crime scene but I need that back for my architecture class."

Max handed the card to Sam.

"Where can we return this to you?" Callen asked.

"I'm staying at the Capri down on Sunset until Friday, and then I have to head back home. I gave the officer here my statement but if you have any questions you can call me on my cell phone." he handed Callen a card, "I'd be happy to help you with your case any way I can."

"Thank you Max, we appreciate the offer." Callen told him. "We'll get that card back to you as soon as we can."

Sam and G headed back to the OSP to give Eric the SD card.

XxXxXx

They agreed to meet at Valentine's Bar, the place were Hetty had met with Deeks on two occasions. It was neutral ground for them.

Valentine's was a small place; dimly lit and quiet, more often than not, nearly empty. The booths and barstools were upholstered in soft red leather, the table tops, polished wood. The walls were dark wood and the floor, dark parquet squares.

Red glass jars held flickering candles. The front door was dark tinted glass coved by a steel filigree grate painted black with a heart in the center. Framed, autographed photographs of movie stars hung on the walls.

Fifteen minutes early, approaching from opposite directions, they met at the front door of the bar with polite nods.

After an awkward moment of 'after you, no, after you', Hetty led the way inside.

They took seats at the long table, sitting across from one another. The bartender brought a pot of tea and service for two, setting it on the table with a puzzled smile.

"Thank you, Vladilen," the women said at the same time.

"Ladies," he grinned and tipped an imaginary hat, then went back to the bar.

"So," Mama Chang said, "Apparently we are neither one, a stranger to this establishment."

"Apparently not," Hetty smiled.

"Scones." Mama Chang picked up one, took a nibble, then placed it on her saucer beside her cup," It's been quite some time since I have enjoyed one."

"Not quite the same as the ones you find in a London café," Hetty took one from the serving dish, "but they are not bad."

They sat for a few moments, not speaking, enjoying the silence and the tea.

"We have not been able to uncover much in our enquiries pertaining to this incident," Mama Chang began. "Only that we are not the only parties interested in what occurred."

"Indeed?" Hetty demurred, "Please, go on."

"There has been an angry young man asking questions, making threats." Mama Chang sipped at her tea, Hetty waited for her to continue.

The silence was heavy between them for several minutes.

Hetty sighed, "This angry young man, would he have been blond with blue eyes, perhaps named Chris?"

Mama Chang smiled, "That is correct. Chris Santori. You have knowledge of him?"

It was Hetty, this time, who remained silent for a few minutes.

"He was initially a suspect in our investigation." Hetty admitted reluctantly.

"And now?" Mama Chang prompted.

"We have determined that he is not involved." Hetty sipped more tea, "He has been doing some investigation of the incident himself, then?"

"Yes, although we do not know how much he has discovered. It is possible that he has sources that we do not have access to."

"Hmm." Hetty murmured, "Then it might be prudent if we were to ask him to share whatever information he may have uncovered."

"Prudent to share, yes." Mama Chang nodded. "Did they find anything in his car?"

Hetty pursed her lips for a moment then answered, "Very little, and none of it helpful."

"His apartment was the same way."

Hetty lifted an eyebrow, Mama Chang was not asking, she was answering.

"He gave me a key." she explained.

"I see. Did you have something to do with the state of it?" Hetty asked.

Mama Chang laughed, her eyes crinkling in delight, "No," she shook her head, "oh no, that curiousness is all his."

"Intriguing." Hetty settled back and sipped some more of her tea. "What have your medical sources had to say about his prognosis?"

Mama Chang set her cup down carefully, idly twisting the cup on its saucer. She didn't look up for several minutes.

"It's not been very good news from any of them." she shook her head. "The medical personnel have called it a vegetative state and don't seem to hold out much hope for his recovery from it. I was told that if he hadn't shown any improvement after twenty-four hours then it was not likely that he would ever regain consciousness."

Her voice cracked and she took a sip of tea to soothe her throat. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up and spoke again.

"They told me that 87% of the patients like Marty will die within two weeks or remain in a vigil coma for the rest of their lives."

Hetty reached across the table and laid her hand on Mama Chang's.

Mama Chang gave a brief smile, "The only ones who have had anything positive to say are a coma awareness group. They are not doctors but they have done quite a bit of research into what they call 'Coma Communication'.

They think that it's possible that Marty is awake but suffering from what is termed 'Locked In Syndrome'. They have encouraged us to attempt to interact with Marty more, particularly when his eyes are open. We should talk to him and touch him whenever he appears to be awake.

Alvin and Muhammad have been taking turns staying with him. Alvin's been playing music and massaging his hands; Muhammad has been reading to him and singing sometimes. With his disability, I've explained to Muhammad that it's better if he doesn't touch Marty, so that he doesn't accidentally hurt him."

Hetty sat back and picked up her tea, "My team shall endeavor to engage Mr. Deeks also, then."

Mama Chang poured some more tea into her cup, "I've noticed a trend in my boy's heath since he began working with your team." she took a cautious sip. "Frankly, I find it quite disturbing."

Hetty looked over the rim of her cup, eyes narrowed, "His line of work is a dangerous sideline no matter where or with whom one is deployed."

"You cannot expect me to believe that he would have been shot in a staged hold-up if he were not a known associate of your young lady."

"It was not my team who brought him into contact with a knife-wielding mobster." Hetty countered.

They were silent again. The only sound for several minutes was the clink of china cups on saucers.

Mama Chang tilted her head. "I suppose that it is possible that he is simply a magnet for trouble."

"Possibly." Hetty agreed. "I believe that he is also drawn to situations where he can render assistance to people in trouble and that sometimes this involves a bit of risk to his health."

"Sometimes more than just a bit." Mama Chang smiled. "He cannot help it. He is, after all, a man of deep emotion."

"True." Hetty agreed, "He cares very much about other people."

Silence filled the space between them as they both thought about what a certain LAPD detective meant to them.

Vladilen brought another pot of tea over and took the empty one away with him.

"The imbibing of tea is such a civilized pastime, don't you agree?" asked Hetty.

"Indeed. Perhaps if more of the world were to take up drinking tea, it could be a more peaceful place."

"I agree." Hetty set her cup and saucer down with barely a rattle, "Mr. Deeks is becoming more and more a part of my team, I feel that with a little more time they will become so finely meshed that unfortunate incidences such as these will be impossible."

"I don't believe that I could persuade him to leave your team anyway." Mama Chang sighed, "He is a willful boy and does what he thinks is best."

Hetty smiled, "So I have noticed. But what are we to do?"

"We can only hope and pray that they have someone dependable to watch their backs."

"In that, I believe that we have no worries."

Mama Chang smiled, "I am certain that you are right." She took out her wallet and laid several bills on the table.

"I insist on paying my share." said Hetty.

Mama Chang nodded, "Then I shall allow you to pay the next time that we meet here for tea."

Hetty looked a little surprised, "The next time?"

"We should keep each other appraised of anything we know that could affect our 'children', don't you think?" she winked, "And a pot of tea shared with a friend is always a delightful way to spend an afternoon."

"Indeed, it is."

Mama Chang led the way back onto the sunlit street. She pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses from her bag. "It's been a pleasure, Henrietta Estelle Lee Lang."

Hetty grinned, "Yes, Bertha Charisse Freeman Chang, it has."

"Until the next time."

Hetty nodded, "Good day."

They both departed back the way they had come, a little lighter in the heart, knowing that the other person was just as strong and trustworthy as themselves.

XxXxXx

Kensi had spent the majority of the past few hours going over all the reports from the case. There was nothing in the reports that gave her any insight into what her partner had been involved in that had led him to the bistro in Beverly Hills. Despite all the coffee she'd drank she'd ended up dozing off at her desk for more than two hours.

Hetty was gone and Sam and G had not returned yet so she decided to go to the hospital to check up on Deeks.

Kensi stopped outside Deeks' room; someone was sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed. She knocked gently on the door.

"Kensi!" Muhammad Chang's face lit up with a delighted smile, and he stood up. "Kensi, I read to Zack but I am stuck on this page. What is this word?" he pointed to the page.

She looked at the book; it had a drawing of an unhappy looking cat on one of the pages. "It's 'soggier'. What book are you reading to him?"

Muhammad closed the book, showing her the cover, "My new book, Grumpy Cat." He picked up the stack of books and fanned them out so she could see them, "I also read, The Kissing Hand, I Love You Sleepyhead, What Brothers Do Best, and Zack's favorite," he handed her the battered paperback, "City Mouse and Country Mouse."

Kensi smiled, recalling Deeks comment about being a city mouse, "I didn't know he liked this book so much." she opened it; on the inside cover was a child's scrawl, 'Marty'.

"He givded me that book. Tomorrow I will bring different books." he said. "Did you bring books to read to him?"

Kensi shook her head, "I forgot. It's wonderful that you did."

"You can borrow my books," he pressed them into her hands, "Zack likes when I read to him, he will like you to read to him too I think."

"Thank you."

"Read this one when he closes his eyes." he pulled out the book with the mother and baby penguin on the cover, "I Love You Sleepyhead, is a goodnight book."

"He closes his eyes?"

"Yeah," Muhammad got excited again, "The doctor say is his sleep time and sometime maybe when he wakes up, he might talk to us."

"That's great news!" Kensi smiled, "It is good news, right?"

"Not to get too excited, Momma say, but is good news."

"Any other good news?"

"We should talk to Zack and we should touch him, except for me," he looked sad for a moment. "Alvin does acupressure, but his hand is broke like my head, so it is hard for him."

He gave her a hopeful smile, "You do acupressure?"

Kensi smiled back, "No, but I can give a pretty great massage."

"Then you should read and do massage, it will make Zack wake up." his phone beeped and he pulled it out of the case. "Alvin is here to take me home, I must go." He slipped the phone back in the carrier.

He pulled her close and for a moment she was afraid he might 'greet' her as he did Marty but he just gave her a hug that made her ribs creak and her feet dangled several inches off the floor.

"Goodbye Kensi." he planted a careless kiss on her cheek and lowered her back to the tile.

"Bye Muhammad."

He turned to the bed, "Goodbye Zack! I be back tomorrow."

When Muhammad was gone, Kensi settled into the chair he had left. The fake leather was still warm and supple from his body heat. She set the books on the table then leaned forward, elbows on her knees; palms pressed together with her fingertips at her mouth and stared at her partner.

Marty's eyes were open, he appeared to be staring at the clock on the wall at the foot of the bed or perhaps at the whiteboard that had today's date and the names of the various people taking care of him.

She leaned back in the chair, "So Muhammad has been reading to you and Alvin is trying to do acupressure. You're not just lying around here hoping to get in a free massage, are you?" she teased.

Marty didn't answer.

She wished he would turn his head and laugh at her, call her Fern and then she'd punch him.

She wiped at her eyes and reached for the stack of books. The one on top had a picture on the cover of a large yellow moon, sitting in front of it were a mother and baby raccoon. The mother was holding the baby's paw in hers.

"How about we read a book?"

She opened the book and began to read.

Chester Raccoon stood at the edge of the forest and cried.

"I don't want to go to school," he told his mother. "I want to stay home with you. I want to play with my friends. And play with my toys. And read my books. And swing on my swing. Please may I stay home with you?"

Mrs. Raccoon took Chester by the hand and nuzzled him on the ear.

"Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do," she told him gently. "Even if they seem strange and scary at first. But you will love school once you start."

Kensi described the vibrant paintings that illustrated the book, the way the artists had drawn the all the other animals. She read several more pages, each time describing the illustrations.

"I'll show you." Mrs. Raccoon took Chester's left hand and spread open his tiny fingers into a fan. Leaning forward, she kissed Chester right in the middle of his palm.

Chester felt his mother's kiss rush from his hand, up his arm, and into his heart.

Kensi's voice broke; she stopped reading for a moment and sniffled. "This is a really cute book."

She cleared her throat and began to read again.

Mrs. Raccoon smiled, "Now," she told Chester, "whenever you feel lonely and need a little loving from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think, 'Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you.' and that very kiss will jump to your face and fill you with toasty warm thoughts."

Kensi continued to read the book to her partner, losing herself in the illustrated forest populated with cute, young animals.

That night, Chester stood in front of his school and looked thoughtful. Suddenly he turned to his mother and grinned.

"Give me your hand," he told her.

Chester took his mother's hand in his and unfolded her large, familiar fingers into a fan. Next, he leaned forward and kissed the center of her hand.

"Now you have a Kissing Hand, too." he told her. And with a gentle "Goodbye" and "I love you", Chester turned and danced away.

And as the hoot owl rang in the new school year, she pressed her left hand to her cheek and smiled.

The warmth of Chester's kiss filled her heart with special words.

"Chester loves you," it sang. "Chester loves you."

Warm tears streaked her cheeks and she brushed them away with her fingers, "It's a great book, but a little sad too." she laid the book on top of the others.

"I hope Muhammad brought some funny ones because I'm not reading anything that's going to make me cry again, it's ruining my makeup." she laughed. "So, now that you've been read to, how about I give you that massage I'm sure you've been dying to have since we met."

Kensi scooted the chair closer and slid the bedrail down so that she could reach him easier.

She began with his hand, his fingers are long, perfect for playing the piano or guitar and his nails are short and clean. She is careful not to dislodge the oxygen monitor on this index finger. She rubbed his hand in slow circles with gentle pressure avoiding the prominent veins on the back of his hand. She can feel the bones in his forearm; his arms are muscular but still slender. She massaged her way up to his shoulder, forced to stop by the various sensor pads stuck to him.

"How about it, partner?" Kensi slipped her hand in his. "How about you just squeeze my hand right now?"

She watched his face carefully, hoping for some sign of awareness but he just blinked slowly.

A shadow fell across the bed and Kensi looked up. A nurse stood in the doorway carrying a tray of instruments.

"Sorry," she said, "But visiting hours are over and it's time for me to do his lab work."

"Five more minutes?" Kensi asked.

The nurse smiled, "Five minutes." then left.

Kensi took Deeks' left hand in hers, spread his fingers and placed a gentle, hesitant kiss on his palm.

"Whenever you need it," she curled his fingers and laid his hand on his chest, over his heart; "I'm here." she turned and hurried from the room.

XxXxXx

He could hear voices. People murmuring softly, no words that he could make out. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. It was darker than anything he'd ever experienced and his heart pounded in his chest painfully. Were his eyes even open at all?

He tried to move, lift his hands to his face but he could not. His scream was silent, echoing only his mind. Wherever he was, there was no light and he couldn't move or make a sound. He wanted to cry but even that was denied him.

Alone. He was completely alone, no one could hear him, and no one knew that he was trapped here.

He was buried alive!

Panic seized him and everything turned cold, he felt like he was suffocating. He didn't know how long the fear held him, it seemed like forever, then he forced himself to stop and think logically.

He was not dead.

Fear kills, remember that. He told himself. I just have to work it out, I'm only afraid because I don't know what's happened. If I work that out I can go from there.

Listen! He shouted to himself, you can figure out where you are. Swallow the fear.

Control the situation by learning as much about his surrounding as possible, that's what Sam would do. Sam wouldn't be afraid, trapped in the darkness, buried in it and unable to move.

So what if he couldn't see, he still had other senses. If he concentrated he could hear sounds. The soft whisper of voices, footsteps, beeping and clicking sounds that somehow seemed familiar.

Concentrate! What are you hearing? Deeks scolded himself.

The beeping and clicking reminded him of machines. Something with black screens and colored lines on them.

HOSPITAL!

He was in a hospital. Relief flooded him; he was not buried in some anonymous grave somewhere in the desert. He was safe, in a place where he would be taken care of, where he could recover from whatever had happened to him.

Footsteps moving toward him. Voices sounding closer.

"Thirty-two year old white male brought in two days ago after collapsing at an outdoor venue. No evident trauma. He was unresponsive to stimuli and shortly after admission suffered respiratory failure. What steps would you have taken had you been on call? Mr. Petersen?"

"I would look for evidence of head trauma or metabolic encephalopathy."

"And when that came back negative, Ms. Pierce what would you have done?"

"I would have checked brainstem function by assessingcorneal reflexes, gag and cough reflexes."

"Very good, Ms. Pierce. Now, Ms. Solomon what lab tests would you have ordered?"

"A complete chemistry profile, complete blood count, coagulation panel, arterial blood gas, tox screen and cortisol level."

"Mr. Petersen, what other lab test would you order?"

"Uumm, a CAT scan?"

"What about you, Ms. Pierce?"

"A lumbar puncture."

"Anything else?"

"Electroencephalography"

"And why would we do an EEG?"

"To rule out seizures."

"And what is a coma?"

"Coma is a state of unarousable unresponsiveness in which the patient has no evidence of self or environmental awareness."

"Very good, let's move on to our next patient."

The voices and footsteps faded away.

I'm not in a coma! He wanted to shout. I'm awake and I can hear you!

Panic crept back in for a moment, and then he recalled something he'd heard about from some of the older officers at one of the cop bars. Locked in. That's what they had said had happened to that police officer from Rampart that had been shot a couple of years ago. She'd had a stroke and slipped into a coma that had turned into this. Being able to hear and no one knowing that she was awake. But she had eventually regained enough movement that the doctors had discovered that she could hear them. He had no idea what had happened to her after that through.

He could beat this, he would. All he had to do was fight it. Concentrate on making them aware that he was here.

Think! Remember! Marty told himself, that will help me wake up if I can just remember what happened.

The last thing I remember… getting up, grabbing the last bagel, it had been a little crunchy. Washing it down with the last of the orange juice straight from the carton. What happened after that?

Car. He'd gone somewhere in the car. He remembered fancy cars and … nothing after that. Had he been in an auto accident?

No.

He remembered parking, walking away from the car and looking back at it. Walking somewhere to meet someone. Who was he meeting?

He recalled flashes, fragments, drinking something sweet, walking away from a table surrounded by people at tables somewhere outside. Someone had shoved him and he'd reached for something and lost it. What had he lost? Who had shoved him and why? Was that Kensi that had called to him?

He suddenly felt very tired.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll wake up and this will all be just a nightmare I've had. He told himself as he fell asleep.