Chapter Ten: Uncage The Colours

Hetty was waiting for them at the hospital, foot tapping with impatience. "Well?" To say that she looked less than delighted was an understatement. Callen was tempted to say she looked thoroughly pissed-off, but that would have been tempting fate.

"We got one of them," he said, after careful consideration.

"And the others?" Her steady gaze slipped sideways as Deeks was rushed past on a gurney, oxygen mask obscuring his face, although what could be see of his hair was still looking remarkably fine. Almost as perky as Meg Ryan's in fact.

"Gone. Ask Renko, why don't you? He was the one who stood and watched them leave." Callen was still smarting over that. Couldn't the guy have stuck his foot out at the very least and tripped them up?

Hetty decided to give him that one. She felt rather guilty about the terrible job she'd done with his make-up. "And your wig? You do realise it was made of genuine human hair and cost a small fortune?"

"It's back at the club. I tell you what, why don't I just swing back there and pick it up?" he asked sarcastically. He wanted to scream "I just bit a guy's dick!", but after due reflection thought this probably was not neither the time or the place. There would probably never be a right time or place to say such a thing. Except for back at Pop Of The Cherry, maybe. And just the thought of it was making his stomach churn. The things he did for his country…

She considered this for a good twenty seconds. "Why don't you just call the scene of crime officer? I'm sure he'll be happy to oblige. These things do cost money, you know. And I have a budget to account for. Ask him about your shoes too, while you're on the phone." You signed for them, Mr Callen. And if I don't get them back, it's coming out of your wages.

"What about Deeks?"

"What about Mr Deeks?" She gave him that Medusa-like glare that had withered better-men's loins to jelly in the past. However, as Callen was pretty sure his own loins were now past redemption, he really didn't care.

"Well, seeing he was so careless as to throw himself onto a knife and bleed all over his frock, I guess you'll be having a few words with him too. Before or after his surgery do you think?"

"Now you're just being silly. Accidental damage is completely different to wanton carelessness."

"What's this about Callen being wanton? Don't tell me NICS is going to be hit with a paternity suit?" Kensi was tugging at her French pleat and finally succeeded in freeing her hair. "Oh God, that feels so good. You wouldn't believe how good it feels."

Callen and Hetty just stared at the vision standing before them. Kensi ran her hands through her hair and then shook it out.

"Your hair," Hetty said faintly. "It's very… full." You look like you've stuck your finger in an electric light socket.

"Your face seems to have dropped," Callen volunteered. "But on the plus side, at least your eyebrows are back to normal and you don't look surprised any more." After the ritual humiliation he'd gone through tonight, he reckoned Kensi had got off pretty lightly so far. It was one thing to go out as a drag queen, but it was quite another to go out as an horrifically ugly drag queen. He was beginning to wonder if Hetty had done it on purpose. Only she wouldn't do that – would she?"By the way, Hetty – you're going to have to write off Sam's dress as well – he pretty much ripped all the seams in this skirt."

Hetty gave him a hard look, said "Bugger" in emphatic terms and stormed into the emergency room, where Sam could be heard talking rather loudly.

"We don't usually dress like this. In fact, we don't ever dress like this. Except tonight. It was for a job." Even he could hear how pathetic he sounded. The room was crowded with doctors and nurses, all rushing around doing the sort of things you saw in Grey's Anatomy. Only with no cool sound track and with considerably less-good hair. Except for the patient, of course.

"We don't judge people, we just try to fix them up," a nurse informed him in ever so slightly patronising tones. "But, if you don't mind me saying, red really isn't your colour." She gestured to his wig. "I see you more as a brunette."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Maybe with some dark coffee lowlights?" Sam felt like biting his tongue off.

"Be careful with those scissors!" For a small lady, Hetty sure could pack a lot of volume into her words.

"Don't worry," the nurse soothed. "I won't cut him. I just need to get this dress removed."

"That's what I'm talking about – the dress. Do you have any idea how much it cost?"

"Not a Scooby." The nurse sheered through the material, from hem to neck and Hetty winced audibly.

"Pick those up," she commanded when the chicken fillets fell onto the floor. Mutely, Sam obeyed and handed them straight over to her. Hetty stood clutching them, looking as if she was about to start cooking their tea.

It was probably just as well that by this stage Deeks was in a state of glorious unconsciousness, for now he was lying on the gurney wearing only his flesh-coloured control panties, which left nothing to the imagination. Unless of course one was curious either as to how he'd managed to arrange himself in such a creative, if constricting manner or indeed exactly why anyone would do that to themselves voluntarily. Sam instinctively clapped a hand over Hetty's eyes. He felt he owed Deeks that much.

It was at this point that Deeks' girlfriend walked in. And took one look at the patient and walked back out again, but not before screaming "investment wanker!" very loudly. It was easy to see why she was so upset, Sam thought, because Deeks was a dead ringer for her. They could have been twins. It was almost creepy how alike they looked. Actually, it was definitely creepy seeing Deeks lying there, exposed to the world, and all the while knowing he looked exactly the same under his skirt. Except that his panties were a different flesh tone, of course. They should definitely ask for danger money for this operation.

"I think there's been a slight misunderstanding," Sam said apologetically to the nurse and pushed Hetty outside before she could say or do anything else. It looked like it was going to be a long night. And if Deeks' girlfriend had anything to do with it, it might just be a night of long knives. Maybe he wouldn't actually have to worry about the state of his balls, because she very well might just cut them off, unless…

Well, he had promised the guy. And he did need a doctor. "You'd better not die on me, Deeks," Sam vowed. "Because you are so going to owe me for this." Mind you, if the worst came to the worst and she dumped Deeks, maybe she'd want a shoulder to cry on? Totally oblivious to the fact he was still in full drag, Sam ran after the doctor, his high heels clicking on the hard floor and the curls in his wig bobbing merrily.