Author's note: Last chapter I forgot to thank you for the reviews and alerts and favorites. I really can't tell you how much they mean to me! When I get stuck or down or just plain busy, having them pop up in my inbox keeps me on track. And when the words come easily, they just plain make me feel good. So thank you to all of you. :)

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of them, more's the pity. But I think I'm going to keep Deeks for a while...and possibly McGarrett.


Guns drawn, Kensi and Deeks eased forward into the shadows near the walls of the warehouse. There were no sounds inside—no gunfire, no shouts, not so much as a clock ticking. Kensi's heart sank.

"Do you think they're all right?" she whispered in Deeks ear, hoping he understood the unasked question. Do you think we're too late?

Deeks was fighting his own inner battle, castigating himself for having been so far out of reach when the call came. He couldn't regret spending time with Kensi, wouldn't regret that he'd been alone with her away from the case, but he wished he'd found something closer to the base, and closer to where Sam and Callen were currently (hopefully) still fighting for their lives.

"Only one way to find out," he whispered in response. He nodded towards a window set high and slightly in front of them. They inched forward, then holstered their guns. Deeks picked up a medium-sized crate from in front of the steel doors just to their right and silently set it down below the window. They carefully climbed on top of the crate and peered through the dirty window.

It was hard to see into the darkened warehouse, and there was no visible movement to alert them to the presence of anyone inside. "This is like Where's Waldo," whispered Deeks. "How much stuff can you fit inside one warehouse?"

"How much stuff does it take to feed and outfit several thousand Marines?" Kensi's eyes kept turning towards the northwest corner. She thought she'd seen something…yes, there it was. The tank truck Sam had described. "Over there, behind that water truck." She gently tapped the far pane of glass in the window. "There they are."

"I see them." Deeks looked toward the opposite side of the warehouse. "Which puts our bogies somewhere right about…there." There was brief flash and the crack of gunfire, and sparks ricocheted off the tank of the water truck behind which Callen and Sam were sheltering. "Yep, I'd say that's the bad guys."

Kensi was eyeing the loft of the warehouse. "Think you can provide some cover for me? I can try and get into that office on the second story, maybe pick a couple of them off. Even the odds a little."

"It's already four or five to two," said Deeks, easing off the crate. "How much more help do you think our guys need?"

"Deeks…."

"I'm kidding." He began to slide the steel doors open. "Mostly."

He held the door open for her, then made his own way through. Pulling it mostly shut, he began to pick his way around the stacks of crates and boxes that formed the maze of the inner warehouse. Kensi slid around the perimeter of the warehouse until she came to the metal staircase that lead to the loft that formed the second story of the building. Crouching down, she waited on her partner to provide her enough cover to get safely to the top.

Deeks was no more than ten feet from Sam and Callen's location when he heard the distinct sound of a safety being released.

"I wouldn't." Sam's voice was curt, forbidding.

"What, is this a private party? I thought we had an invitation."

"Deeks?" That was Callen's voice.

"In the flesh. Kensi's about to take a higher position, see if she can't even the odds a little." Deeks crawled over to where the other two agents were, casting a quick glance over them both. They appeared to be unhurt. "She needs some cover fire to get upstairs."

"We're both out," said Callen. "You didn't happen to bring…?"

"Extra clips?" He pulled them out of his pocket, slid one to each of the other agents. "We did, in fact. Kensi's idea."

Gratefully Sam and Callen reloaded their guns with decisive snaps. Sam looked over the hood of the truck and Callen crouched down behind it. The team leader grinned as he took aim. "Let's see if we can't return the favor."

And all three began firing.

At the heavy burst of gunfire, Kensi started up the stairs, slow and silent. She kept to the far side, trying to stay out of sight, but she must have been spotted because bullets began ricocheting around her. Covering her head with both arms, she ducked and ran the rest of the steps, then hurried into the office—only to find herself face-to-face with a young Marine, face anxious and pasty. He held a gun in one wavering hand, and he began to raise it toward her.

"Federal agent," she said, raising her own weapon and pointing it directly at him. His eyes welled up with tears. "Don't do it," she continued. "Put your weapon down immediately."

But he just shook his head. "I…I have to. If you knew what we'd…what I did. We're going to get caught, and we're going to prison. So I can't…" Crying in earnest now, the poor kid raised his own weapon to eye level. "I can't go to prison."

"Don't." He reminded her so much of another scared, lost Marine. One who'd tried to make things right, tried his best to be a man. But she'd failed him, and he'd failed himself. The ashen features of this Marine began to blur and fade, and another face took shape. A face once beloved, and one she hadn't seen in over seven years now. And as she watched this Marine's finger tighten on the trigger, she knew she was going to die because she was never going to be able to shoot him.

Which was why the gunshot coming from just to her left made her start wildly. She watched a small red spot bloom just over the Marine's heart, and she watched him drop slowly down to the ground, eyes open and unseeing.

"You alright, Kensi?"

The words weren't right, not quite. It wasn't Deeks standing beside her. She'd yet to look over and see who it was, but her response was automatic.

"I'm fine."

But she wasn't. Not really. She'd yet to look away from the dead Marine. Dead kid, more accurately. His features had relaxed in death and now she could see him clearly. He seemed absurdly young, barely old enough to shave or drive a car. So much of his life wasted as his lifeblood seeped out onto the dirty concrete floor. She felt someone grasp her elbow and nudge her away, and she allowed herself to be led to the dumpy brown chair seated near the crowded corner desk. Which was fortunate because once she finally looked away from the wasted life laying on the ground, she felt her knees began to wobble. She sank gratefully into the chair.

"Just sit tight." She realized it was McGarrett, and she was able to turn and meet his calm, reassuring gaze. He briefly rested his hand on the top of her hair, stroking her hair back from her forehead. Then he began to back up. "I've got to go help your team out."

Left alone, she kept her eyes resolutely ahead, resolved not to look back at the body lying behind her. Finding the presence of mind to put on gloves, she began going through the contents of the desk. She found little of value on the top of the desk, but there were a couple of ledgers stuck in the back of the top drawer that could be of interest to the analysts. And in the very bottom drawer, she found a worn leather trifold wallet. One that looked very familiar. One that made her heart start pounding a little harder, and her breath catch in her throat. Opening it, she stared at the image of a man whose face she hadn't physically seen in almost fifteen long years.

It was her father's wallet.

Not even the wild gunfire or cries of rage and pain out in the warehouse itself could have distracted her in that moment. She stroked one finger around the outline of her father's face, set in unsmiling lines in his California driver's license. There were other treasures—a folded note written in a child's hand, red crayon letters wobbly and uncertain. I luv you daddy. A tiny picture of the two of them, her dad squatted down next to her, her arm around his shoulders, the same cocky grin on both of their faces. Even at five she'd been the image of him. One grainy shot of her mother holding a baby wrapped tight in a blanket Kensi still had folded carefully in her treasure box at the mission. One by one, Kensi pulled them all out. But it was too much, coming on top of the emotional upheaval of the last few weeks and the death of the Marine who'd reminded her so of Jack. Another reminder of a past failure now coupled with new, and a wallet full of reminders of just exactly what she'd lost. She took the time to carefully refold and replace everything in the wallet, then she stood up.

"Kensi?" She whirled to find Deeks standing in doorway of the office, concern apparent in the tightness of his mouth and the ocean blue gaze. "McGarrett sent me up here. Said you were…said you needed…"

"You?" She looked down, unable to hold his gaze. "I do. I need you to.." She began to move forward, and he backed up to let her pass. "Could you hold this for me, please? Right now I just can't…I can't." She pushed the wallet against his chest, and instinctively his own hand came up to cover hers. "Please don't tell anyone else. You can look. Please look. I need you…I need you with me on this." She moved a little closer, finally finding his eyes with her own. For the first time, she was completely open and readable. She needed him, and she let that need and trust and dependence and a whole host of other emotions shine through mismatched eyes. "I trust you with this." And she slid her hand out from underneath his, leaving him cradling the wallet to his heart.

"Kensi…" And now he was the speechless one. He wanted to tell her how much it meant to him, that blind trust and need. How much she meant to him. But he settled for his old standby, the one that really meant everything because it said everything he needed to say. "You okay?"

And at those words, the ones she'd heard a hundred times in the past few years, she knew the dam really was about to break. Without another sound she fled down the stairs and out of the warehouse, uncaring of any possibility of bad guys or danger or anything really except the need to be alone. Deeks was left holding a worn leather wallet. Mindful of her privacy, he turned away to tuck it into his shirt pocket.

From their vantage point on the floor of the warehouse, Callen and Sam watched what they thought was a heated exchange. It appeared as if Kensi had pushed Deeks away and run out the door and Deeks just stood and watched her, looking both confused and unhappy, before turning away. McGarrett approached them, his eyes also trained on the office landing.

"So. You guys gonna do anything about that?" He turned to look at the other two men who in turn looked at looked at each other. Sam cocked his head to one side, and Callen gave a slight nod before answering.

"As a matter of fact…."


It took some time to wrap the op up. Island police showed up along with McGarrett's special investigative team. Callen wasn't really surprised to find out that the paperwork and the personnel seemed to take a little longer at the crime scene. Island pace was a lot more relaxed than what he was used to. He tried not to get antsy, but with Kensi still gone somewhere out there and Deeks stalking around as if someone had broken his surfboard and dognapped Monty, he had a hard time standing around playing a waiting game.

Finally the last dead body was removed; it was the young Marine from the office. Sam shook his head, staring down as the coroner zipped up the black body bag. "David Castille."

Callen shook his head, watching as the two coroners' assistants began pushing the gurney toward the waiting van. "Damned shame. Kid couldn't have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three."

"Twenty-one." Sam took a deep breath, tried to shake it off. He turned to look around the warehouse. "Kensi's still not back. You going to track her down?"

"No, I'm going to have Eric do it." He tapped his earwig. "Eric, you there?"

"Here, ready, and waiting. You want me to locate Kensi?"

"Yes, and send me her coordinates as soon as you can." Tapping the earwig to deactivate it, he turned to look at his partner. "So, you want to go over this again, or do you…?"

"I've got it." Sam looked amused. "Are you nervous about this or something', G? Because we've gone over it a dozen times. And it isn't exactly like we're facing hardened criminals or terrorists bent on destroying the world."

"No, we're facing Kensi when she's already upset and angry, and we're going to…"

"I know what we're going to do." Sam didn't look quite so amused any more. "Maybe we should go over it just one more time."


Following the coordinates Eric had send to his phone, Callen finally ran her down in a small clearing a few hundred yards from the warehouse. She was sitting at the base of a large tropical tree of some kind, head resting on upraised knees and arms wrapped around herself. She was trembling a little, the very picture of dejection, and Callen almost had second thoughts. But he knew he was doing the right thing, believed it had to be done for the good of the team. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his shoulders back and moved to sit next to her.

He could tell she was aware of his presence. Her entire body tightened, and she drew back a little.

"Rough day, huh?" he said sympathetically.

Her head raised and turned toward him. Her eyes were dry but red-rimmed. "You could say that."

"Well I'm about to make things a little easier on you."

Her lips twisted bitterly. "I'm not really sure you can do that."

"Let's try this. I can at least remove one irritant from your life." He turned to watch her carefully. "I've talked to Hetty, and after we fly back to LA you will no longer have Deeks as a partner."

Her face lost every last vestige of color. Even her lips were white. "Wh…what?"

"It's clear things aren't working out between you," he explained. "You haven't talked, you don't joke around, you can't even finish an op together. I saw what happened back there."

"That wasn't….it's not what you think." Her voice was soft, weak, helpless. She hated it. Hated this feeling even more. She'd thought she'd reached her limit on helpless already, thought she'd dealt with the worst life could hand out. And she thought she had handled it pretty well. But this…this could break her. Right now, when everything else was going to hell in a hand basket, the fragile peace she and Deeks had achieved between them was the one thing she had going right in her life, and now even that was going to be yanked away. "Callen, no. You can't do this."

"Kens, it's already done."


Deeks hurriedly stuffed the wallet back in his shirt pocket as Sam approached him. "Everything wrapped up?"

"Yep. No thanks to you and Kensi."

"Hey, sorry about that." Deeks tried to keep his full attention on Sam, on the last remaining law personnel still milling around the scene, on anything but where Kensi was and how she was feeling. But it was hard. No, it was impossible. She'd found her dad's wallet. He knew it had been missing since her father was murdered. She'd told him he had to be identified using dental records. The wallet was the most significant piece of evidence that had surfaced yet, and she was so overloaded she couldn't even process it.

And she'd given it to him to keep.

He tried to wrap his mind around that, tried to understand the significance of that single gesture. Her dad had been the most important person in her life, and his murder had left a lasting indelible impression on her that neither time nor distance had softened. She'd sacrificed time and again to do what she could to investigate, to figure out what happened, and he knew it ate at her in the dark of night that she'd gotten no further in fifteen years than the ineffective MPs had gotten immediately after the murder itself. Now here she'd finally finally found something that might begin to lead her to the answers she'd been seeking—and she'd put it into his hands for safekeeping. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Any remaining resentment or anger about their fight melted away as if it had never been there at all. He accepted fully that she hadn't meant those words, hadn't truly believed them at that time or any other. She couldn't possibly have felt that way and put the wallet in his care earlier tonight.

He became aware that Sam was trying to get his attention. "Hey, you in there?"

"Yeah." He kept his expression solemn, determined to respect her request for privacy. "Yeah, I'm here."

"As I was saying, we've been watching, and we know stuff's been going on between you. Even in the middle of an op you're not getting along."

"Hey, no. Really." Deeks realized they'd misinterpreted what had happened at the warehouse between him and Kensi. "That was…it was something else."

"Yeah? What exactly would that be?"

Normally astute and quick as a whip with a ready answer—a necessity for an undercover operative—Deeks couldn't formulate a single response.

"Yeah, I thought so. That's why G and I decided it was time to step in." And Sam held out his hand, palm up, and offered Deeks an earwig. "I think you're going to want to hear this."

Confused, Deeks took the earwig and placed it in his ear, then tapped it just in time to hear Kensi's voice. She was clearly distressed.

"Callen, no. You can't do this."

Callen's voice was calm, implacable.

"Kens, it's already done."

She gasped audibly, and Deeks turned to look at Sam. He was beginning to get angry even though there was no way for the other two agents to know how emotionally overloaded and even fragile Kensi was right now. Accusation in his voice, he pointed at Sam. "What did you do?"

Sam just shook his head and pointed to his earwig.

"Callen, seriously, I….the problems between us these last few weeks…that was all my fault, not Deeks. He didn't do anything. Hasn't done anything to me. Not like I did to him."

"What exactly did you do?"

There was a long silence.

"Please, Callen. I'll do whatever it takes." Her voice cracked, broke, and Deeks imagined her fragile hold on her emotions splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. The anger grew, fanned into instant heat. How dare they do this to her today, of all days? He should be there with her. For her. Kensi continued. "Just…don't do this."

"I'm not doing this to punish you," Callen said gently. "A partnership has to work on all levels in our business. Personally and professionally. And if the personal begins to interfere with the professional, someone's going to get hurt. Or worse."

"Ours did work," insisted Kensi. Her voice was a little choked and muffled. "It did. Deeks is the best partner I've ever had. I trust him, Callen, and you know exactly how hard that is for me to say."

Callen took a deep breath. "But can he trust you?"

Kensi sobbed a little and avoided the question. "I'm….I'm begging you, Callen. Please give me another chance. Please. I'll make it up to him. Please." And Deeks couldn't take anymore. In a split second, he had both hands fisted in Sam's shirt.

"Where are they?" Kensi's agony was reflected in the white-hot fury in his voice and eyes. "Dammit, tell me where they are." He could only imagine how bad this was going to get, and he was going to end it right now. If it meant his job he wasn't going to let this go on another second longer.

"Back off," said Sam, working to free his shirt. In his rage Deeks was much stronger than expected, and Sam finally gave up. "Coordinates should already be in your phone."

And with that, Deeks was off.


Kensi began to cry, silently and desperately. Tears tracked down both cheeks, and she didn't even have the energy to wipe them away. She was that lost child again, a fifteen year old orphan looking for answers, a young lover abandoned on Christmas morning. She turned away from Callen, and so missed him tapping his earwig.

"Deeks is on his way." Sam's voice was calm, and Callen watched Kensi as he listened to his partner. "Think that did it?"

"I hope so," said Callen quietly. "Because that wasn't exactly a lot of fun."

"It'll be worth it if it gets them back on track."

"Yeah." Callen sighed heavily, hoping that Deeks and Kensi would be able to reconcile after this—and would forgive and understand why they'd done it.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Mrs. Ju-lie Lawrence."

Callen and Kensi both turned. Before either of them had time to respond or think about pulling a weapon, there was a sharp retort, and Callen dropped like a stone, a red dot spreading and growing high on one shoulder.

Ricky Castille stood in front of them, weapon now trained on Kensi.

"Or should I call you by your real name? I believe that would be Kensi Blye." He laughed bitterly. "Don't you remember me, little Kensi? It's been almost fifteen years, but I haven't changed that much, have I? Now you….you've changed quite a bit. Not the gangly little girl you used to be." He advanced, and Kensi could do little more than stare at him in disbelief. "I used to come to your house sometimes. Play poker with the boys. With your dad. At least, I did right up until I had to kill him."

Running faster than he'd ever run in his life, Deeks listened in dawning horror as Kensi faced down her father's killer. Dear God, let me get there in time.