Callen had carefully observed the pecking order amongst the destitute habitants of Venice during the afternoon and early evening. He studied which people claimed which spots and who had the most - and the least - amount of possessions. Having lived frugally all his life he was constantly astounded by the belongings that some managed to accumulate while on the streets. He equated it with Kensi's mess and her need to collect stuff, the need to compensate for what was lacking in other areas of their lives. Callen was mostly interested in those that would match him in a fight - he had to survive unscathed for long enough to be a nuisance, to be recognised and hopefully arrested. That would be the icing on the cake, provided he was only to spend one night in a cell. Callen glanced around him, convinced that one of his team was somewhere nearby in overwatch, keeping a close eye on his antics in case things went south. He smiled grimly and turned up the collar of his scruffy jacket. Well, things were about to now, he thought.

Callen marched up to a man of about his own age, reached down and dragged him out of his make shift camp, throwing him on to the boardwalk several metres away.

'I've been watching you all day.' He shouted to the stranger in anger. 'And I've seen you stealing money from her. She has nothing and you wanna make sure she has even less. You're a low life piece of scum - you need to move house.'

Callen pointed towards two pitches on small grass verge that ran between the beach and the path. The noises from the throng of nearby people and street entertainers suddenly became muted and the night's atmosphere developed a chill. Passersby instinctively backed away from the two men who were now tentatively circling each other as though in a boxing ring.

'I don't steal no money.' The man gestured, appealing to anyone who would listen that he was innocent. 'You're fucking psycho, man. Ain't ever seen y'here neither.'

Callen took a step forward, prodding his finger firmly in to the vagrant's chest. 'You took fifty bucks from her earlier. I sat over there and watched. Give it back before I make you.'

Callen's victim looked confused. 'I ain't got no fifty bucks. You bat-shit crazy mother-'

'If you don't have no fifty bucks, then let her search your pockets,' Callen interrupted. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a mother and young child exit a nearby cafe. They quickly walked in the opposite direction, away from the danger zone.

The girl Callen was referring to was named Jessica and she stood up shakily, pulling her dirty beany hat further down her head and smoothing her lank, dark hair. She stepped forward in curiosity. She knew she only had a few dollars on her, tucked inside her bra. She'd never had that much money and she shoved her hands in her pockets, eyes darting between Callen and Luka, the accused. She had known Luka for a few weeks and had quickly decided she could only trust him not to try anything on with her. She didn't think he was gay, just not interested in sex . She had witnessed him lifting already stolen food from a fellow vagrant a few nights ago and she could really do with fifty dollars. If Luka did have that much money, well she could claim it was hers and hope this new, intense stranger would not ask her to repay it in kind. There was a tense silence as she walked forward and then stopped short of the two men.

'I wanna but, no way man. He could have anythin' in his pockets, like needles or somethin'. I ain't catching HIV.' Jessica narrowed her eyes and stared defiantly at Callen who was almost daring her to continue. 'But I'm missing money,' she lied. 'And I want it back. You get it for me.'

Callen smiled slowly and calculatingly. 'I could do that...'

'No!' Luka shouted. 'I know your game. You're gonna plant that money on me and then say you found it. Just coz I live on the streets don't mean I'm stoopid.'

'Yes you are stupid. Turn out your own pockets then so we can all see what a dumb-ass liar you are.'

'Fuck you,' Luka backed away from Callen and Jessica.

Judging he was a safe distance away Luka broke in to a run, not stopping to look behind him. Callen swore under his breath and gave chase, catching him quickly and tackling him to the ground. Rolling Luka over so he was on his back, Callen sat on top of him and sent a couple of punches to his face to stop his victim from struggling so much. He patted down Luka's pockets, mindful of any stray needles. Not feeling anything of concern and knowing he had planted the money in the shirt pocket, Callen pushed open Luka's jacket and beckoned to Jessica, who approached him tentatively.

'See that?' Callen pointed to the shirt pocket where the bulge of notes was clear. 'I didn't put that there or you'd have seen, yeah? So that means it's yours.'

Luka started struggling and swearing, causing Callen to almost lose his grip. He shook his head imperceptibly and opening his palm, sharply slapped Luka's left cheek. Jessica darted forwards and deftly removed the notes, withdrawing her hand and quickly moving back to the safety of the crowd. She refrained from counting the money in case someone had any ideas about relieving her of the notes.

Callen stood up and tapped his boot in to Luka's side. 'You need to leave. You're a dirty thief and I'm taking your pitch. How can we live here if we can't even trust our own?'

'You planted that money.' Luka moved animatedly, clenching and unclenching the fists of both hands. 'That's my stuff. You can't steal my stuff. And you don't even live here.'

Callen stood his ground, a cruel smile spreading across his face. 'I do now.'

The smile caused Luka to snap and he suddenly sprang to his feet and moved at speed, knocking Callen to the ground and landing an extremely hard punch to the side of his jaw. Callen instantly tasted blood and closed his eyes, waiting for the next blow. Another punch connected with his cheek and he inhaled deeply, forcing the pain to the back of his mind and reacting in the pause between his assailant's blows. Callen moved his hands to either side of Luka's collar and grasped it tightly, pulling the man towards him and trying not to recoil from the foul odour of rotting teeth. He lifted his face and smacked his forehead against Luka's, using the momentum to roll over so he was on top. Raising his right arm and clenching his fist tight, he rained down three blows in quick succession, leaving Luka stunned.

Callen wiped blood away from his lip, leaving a small red mark on the sleeve of his jacket and surveyed his handiwork. He wasn't sure if this was quite going to plan and his doubts were answered when he was roughly hauled away from Luka's prone form and pushed to the ground. Callen leaped up and charged at his new assailant just as he heard sirens, the slamming of brakes and warnings shouted by local police department. Ignoring them, Callen swung wildly, making sure his actions meant the police would want him off the streets that night. His ploy was rewarded and he was grabbed from behind and forced on to his knees and then face first on to the ground, his arms pinned painfully behind his back.

'You're under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and as I doubt you can afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand?'

Callen felt the skin on his wrists pinch as the officer over-tightened the handcuffs.

'Jesus, Luka, you OK?' One of the officers had released his grip on Callen and moved to the man lying bloody on the ground.

'That psycho bitch just attacked me.' Luka pointed to Callen as he was helped in to a sitting position. He raised his hand to his head, dabbing at the wet blood on his face and examining his fingers. 'Accused me of stealin' from Jessica.'

'I saw you.' Callen raged, straining against the handcuffs.

The LAPD officer turned back to face Callen. 'Guess you're waiving your right to remain silent. Now stay still. I don't know who you are but Luka's lived here for years and has never stolen from his neighbours. Or been in a fight.'

'Luck fuck - he giving you free hand jobs or something?' Callen hurled abuse at the officer who shook his head in disgust and marched back to stand over Callen.

'You've got some mouth on you. Now shut it.' He hauled Callen to his feet and prodded him roughly in the shoulder. 'Mark, get a medic down here to check Luka out. And you? Where the hell did you spring from? You're not a regular face. What's your name?'

'Clint Eastwood.' Callen answered defiantly. 'Food truck guys know me. And I saw Luka steal that money. It's not right. We got nothing so we can't steal from each other.'

'OK, OK.' The officer replied, realising he had to calm down himself, Luka and his prisoner. 'You're spending the night in the cells and tomorrow you can be on your way. But I don't wanna see you back in Venice.'

The officer led Callen away from Luka and large crowd that had gathered. He could see several familiar faces from earlier, including an extremely concerned Larry who stood with his hand over his mouth in surprise. Callen briefly made eye contact and then cast his eyes downwards. Overall he thought, day one of his undercover mission hadn't gone too badly and he had even been rewarded with a bed for the night. The next day though, would bring new challenges.

Kensi leaned against the wall of a souvenir shop and held her cell to her ear, quietly providing an update to the team back in the ops centre. She was pretty sure Callen realised at least one of the team was tracking him and Kensi had been chosen to blend in with the hippy chicks of Venice. Although Nell and Eric ensured Callen's backstopping was meticulous, there was a slight issue when it came to him being arrested. Callen was known to some police officers as a federal agent and had also been arrested a few years earlier for the 'murder' of Janvier. There was a distinct risk Callen could be recognised and earlier Deeks had made some tentative calls to LAPD, warning them Callen was undercover. Now he had to rely on Hetty's influence to ensure his cover remained intact. People talk, and rumour and gossip could keep a boring night shift from dragging. Hetty had pulled some strings and managed to get a few trusted officers to handle Callen's arrest and booking in. Kensi watched as Callen was bundled in to the back of the police cruiser and driven away. She spoke softly in to her cell and hung up, giving a final glance to the remains of the chaos Callen had caused. The medics were now checking out Luka, and Jessica - with her fifty bucks - was nowhere to be seen.

Callen's night in the cells was uneventful. Hetty's trusted officers made sure no trouble makers were placed close to Callen, and he kept himself to himself. He could not continue with his undercover mission if he was in hospital or locked up for another night. The next day he was released with a warning to stay away from Venice Beach and the surrounding areas. Callen had grunted in agreement. His next target was further inland - the Sanctuary Outreach Centre - and a date with Frederick Patten. The morning was bright and Callen emerged from the dingy hallway, squinting and almost stumbling down the steps. He glanced up and down the street, deciding to turn left towards downtown Los Angeles. The police officers had not searched him well enough and had missed the money hidden in his socks. Callen reckoned he still had around three hundred dollars which he would keep for an emergency or maybe spent a few dollars on a bus ride. The walk from Pacific Police Station to downtown would take him at least four and a half hours and was not something he was particularly looking forward to.

Taking his time, Callen took over six hours to arrive downtown. He had taken side roads and back alleys, stopping at a few rough looking coffee shops along the way. By early afternoon the skies had uncharacteristically darkened and the first spots of rain landed on the sidewalks. Callen quickly headed away from the side roads towards Venice Boulevard. Turning up the collar of his jacket, he stuck out his thumb and hoped someone would stop to offer him a lift. Lady luck was not on his side. No one stopped and within minutes he was soaked from the sudden storm. The pelting rain stung his face and water literally ran down the back of his neck in to his clothes. Puddles quickly gathered on the sidewalk and Callen was thankful his boots were not so worn that they leaked. Before he could reach the nearest bus stop, he realised he did not want to get any wetter and rather than sit in soaking clothes, Callen backtracked to a derelict shop he'd passed a few minutes earlier. He would hole up there and change in to his only other clothes. He was pretty sure his rucksack was not waterproof, but other set of jeans, t-shirt and jumper had to be drier that his current outfit. After a forty minute respite during which the rain ceased, Callen continued his journey and arrived at his destination late in the afternoon.

The Sanctuary Outreach Centre was located on the corner plot of a rundown residential side road just off the main strip. The day centre was in a low slung building, recently renovated. It housed a large lounge and dining area, with a kitchen and a small office to the rear. At the front was a reception area which was manned twenty-four-seven. The centre wanted their patrons to feel safe, and firmly turned away anyone they felt to be drunk or high or violent. Next door was a large two storey house which stood out as an anomaly amongst the neighbouring single storey dwellings. The main office was in the front downstairs room and the remainder of the house had been converted in to shared bedrooms and small bathrooms. In total, a maximum of twenty five adults could be housed on a discretionary first come first served basis, with no one allowed to stay more than seven consecutive days and no return stay within the month.

Thanks to the wonder twin's research Callen knew that no beds were allocated before six in the evening. He had at least an hour to wait in the day centre and once again he began to sell his alias as the real deal. He was greeted at the reception by a man he recognised as Frederick Patten. He gave the bare minimum of information on his alias Rob Gladstone and registered his interest in needing a bed for a few nights. Hoping it would stand him in good stead, he also slipped in the fact his only spare clothes were soaked from earlier although he wasn't sure a sob story from a man in his forties would actually work. There were plenty of activities to keep him occupied until the clock ticked round to six but that was only if Callen wanted to be sociable. And he did not want to be sociable. It certainly wasn't in the nature of his alias and so he killed time by grabbing a meal at the shelter and kept to himself.

During his earlier stop he had contacted Ops and requested Deeks pay a street kid to loiter around the Sanctuary and tell stories about how the previous night a man that matched his description spouted off against the Government and stood up for a young girl at Venice Beach. A few times he caught Patten staring at him and he figured the kid had done his job well. Callen hoped the money Deeks had paid him wouldn't be wasted on drink or drugs. It was a risk that had to be taken. At just before six, Frederick Patten finally approached Callen.

'Hey, I spoke to you when you arrived, I'm Freddie. We've got a spare bed in a shared room if you're interested?'

'Sure.'

'Great, grab your stuff and follow me.' Freddie waited for Callen to pick up his rucksack and his still wet jacket. 'All rooms are in the house next door. You'll be sharing with three other men and the room has a separate shower, toilet and basin. Maximum stay is one week.'

'Thanks.'

'Y'know, some kid was here earlier and said he recognised you from something that went down in Venice last night...'

Callen stopped in his tracks and held Freddie's stare before he looked away. 'I won't cause any trouble here - I just need somewhere to stay. Sort my head out.'

'Not what I meant - the kid reckoned you were angry about the Government and then fought some stranger who'd stolen money from a homeless girl?'

'I served my country since I got- since I was twenty - and now look at me. So yeah their lack of support makes me angry sometimes. Doesn't mean I'm a trouble maker or that I don't have principles.'

'I understand. We don't get too many Vets through here but when we do it's the same story. I have connections at shelters all over California and it's clear that something is wrong.'

Callen barked out a short laugh. 'Something is wrong? Too damn right! The whole policy needs to change. The Government, the military, someone must to be forced to listen and then make the changes needed. You talk to people on the streets, it's not just people like me who're affected. There's no help for evicted families when they can't afford mortgage payments. No support for kids kicked out of the foster system at eighteen or when you're released from prison...'

Callen allowed his mini rant to tail off. He looked in to the distance again, shaking his head and sighing. He knew the short falls of the system first hand and for a number of years had shared the angry sentiments of his alias. Hetty was playing a canny game, Callen thought wryly.

Freddie studied Callen and recognised the passion, anger and resentment that was evident in his words and reflected in his eyes. He may have been referring to generic situations but Freddie instinctively knew the man next to him was speaking from personal experience about the child welfare state and the military. He thought about mentioning they had a counsellor on hand every afternoon for those who wanted to talk or vent in a confidential environment but changed his mind. Rob came across as a very strong willed individual who had built walls around himself a long time ago. The offer of any kind of therapy would most likely have an adverse effect. Instead Freddie made a mental note to call Anton DuValle later that evening and invite him down to the Sanctuary. It had been a while since he had encountered anyone that might be interested in DuValle and Lyneham's movement and he had a gut feeling they would agree with his assessment.

Callen slept lightly that night. His rooming companions were an elderly man who snored loudly and two men around his age. They were all amenable enough, politely introducing themselves by first name only but it was the elderly man - Jon - who continued to talk. Generally there was an air of unspoken mistrust and Callen slept fully clothed, using his still damp rucksack as a pillow, an action mirrored by the others.

The rooms were available to the inhabitants for the next week but if an individual did not confirm it was still required by three that afternoon, any remaining belongings were collected and left with reception. If they were still there the following day, the baggage was moved to a storage area for one month before being permanently disposed. It was a rule the shelter found worked well as should any belongings be required as police evidence in a crime, it was readily available but for a limited time. Callen confirmed his requirement shortly after he woke at dawn. Gathering his rucksack, he sat on the steps outside the house and wondered how to fill his time until the day centre opened for food at seven. He gazed at the clear blue morning sky, his eyes following a flock of gulls flying in formation towards the coast. He absentmindedly moved the sleeve of his jacket until he remembered he no longer wore a watch, and swore silently to himself. The bed had served a purpose and he had slept fairly well, considering. But returning to that room with the other inhabitants slowly awakening did not appeal and Callen hoped he would have new company that evening. He leaned back and closed his eyes, stretching his legs out and basking in the warmth of the early morning sun which gradually gained in strength.

'Early riser or just couldn't sleep?'

A voice jolted Callen out of his dream like state and he cursed loudly at having been caught unaware. He looked up to see Frederick Patten smiling at him. Callen allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch slightly, not wanting to appear too friendly or too hostile.

'Never been much of a sleeper and that is one noisy old bastard you put me with. Talks non-stop when he's awake and snores non-stop when he's asleep.'

'That's ol' Jon for you. This is his seventh night so if you're here for a week, you're in luck. You'll have a new companion tonight. Jon's harmless -can't say the same for all we get here though.'

Patten's smile dropped a touch.

Callen shrugged and mumbled, looking down at his hands as he spoke. 'Venice - I just needed to let off steam. Been a while, y'know. I won't cause any trouble here.'

'Sure. Look, breakfast won't be ready for at least an hour. There's a cafe already open a few blocks from here, just on the main strip - truckers stop. Let me buy you a coffee and some bacon.'

'No, I'll wait like everyone else.'

'Look it's not charity. You remind me of a friend of mine. He's ex-Marine, runs a small commune in the country for vets like you who need a bit of time to gather themselves. I might be able to help you out with something more stimulating that this joint.'

'This is a damn site better than some places I've stayed.'

'Hey, no pressure man. Join me for coffee - you'll still have your bed here and all the food and stuff from the day centre. Got nothing to lose...'

Callen fell silent. The offer had come round soon. Maybe too soon for his liking and he was suspicious of Patten. Ok, it was paranoia. Paranoid he had played his hand too soon and he had been found out. Callen reviewed the previous day's conversations, trying to pinpoint something he had said, anything that might have flagged to Patten that he was not really destitute and troubled. He could think of nothing.

'OK.'

The walk to the cafe took ten minutes, longer than expected for something that was only meant to be a few blocks away. The conversation was rather one sided with Patten talking inanely about any subject that sprung to mind. Callen responded with the odd grunt which seemed enough to satisfy Patten. The cafe was set back from the road on a parade that contained a pharmacy with its shutters closed tight and a video stop that was either open early or just never closed. A quick look told Callen all he needed to know and he made a mental note to have LAPD look into illegal porn and prostitution when his assignment was over. The cafe itself was dingy despite the light of the morning. Grease was ingrained in the floor, causing Callen's boots to stick and squeak slightly as he followed Patten to a table at the rear.

'Freddie, where the hell have you been hiding? Been a while!'

A tall dark haired man stood to greet Patten, offering his hand and pulling Patten in to a bear hug.

'I'm good, I'm good.' Some of Patten's confidence seemed to drain away in the presence of the man Callen recognised as Anton DuValle. 'Ant, I want you to meet Rob. He arrived at the Sanctuary last night and I thought you might have something in common.'

Anton stood his ground, not making a move towards Callen who mirrored the action. Anton appraised the man in front of him. He saw a tired man in his forties, with hard eyes that told a story of a life full of fights for survival, a man that did not trust easily. He had a demeanour that said he was military and met every fight and challenge head on. There was also an edgy and dangerous air that Anton recognised from many of the others Patten had brought before him.

Anton held out his hand. 'Anton DuValle. Please, sit. Coffee?'

Callen shook Anton's hand, fully aware of the thoughts running through Anton's mind as Callen performed the same analysis on him. He may have read Anton's file but even just being with this man filled him with revolt. Anton DuValle was a man who had abused women and never been prosecuted as those same women had either withdrawn their statements or disappeared. Many of the cases had taken place during leave on foreign shores and the only accusations which had stuck were those of insubordination, violence and drugs. It had been enough to get DuValle dishonourably discharged, but not locked up. He was a dangerous and repulsive man.

A steaming mug of coffee was placed in front of Callen and despite the warmth of the morning he placed his hands around the mug and suppressed a chill.

'You good?' Patten asked, observing the change in body language.

Callen nodded.

'Freddie here says you're ex-military?'

Callen nodded again, his eyes darting between Patten and DuValle in suspicion.

'Look I know you've only just met me but I've been where you are. I got shot in the shoulder in Kabul and injured out of the Marines. Discharged with PTSD and no one to help me. My mom died when I was on tour so I had no one and nowhere to go. Ended up living from day to day, sleeping in doorways and shelters, begging for food and money until I bumped into Joshua Lyneham. We had served together for a few years and was injured out long before me. He now runs a ranch in the Angeles National Forest. Disused land that he turned around with his bare hands and he was looking for others like him to help. I went just to get a bed for the night and two years later - here I am. There's no shrinks or other crap like that-' Patten paused as he observed a slight grin from Callen. 'It's just fresh air, building, using your hands, some hunting...Patten says you remind him of Josh - and that's a compliment, believe me. Reckons you're in a bit of a bad place at the moment. Had some trouble with the law an' all.'

DuValle finished his speech and leaned back in his chair as though waiting for Callen to eagerly respond to his words.

Callen stared at his coffee, watching the steam swirl and dissipate. 'I can't answer when you haven't asked me anything...'

'You were arrested the other night for bad mouthing the Government.'

Callen gave a short laugh. 'No, I expressed my opinion and some people overheard. Got arrested later for fighting some low life scum who stole money off a street kid.'

DuValle nodded in understanding. 'A man with morals, I like that. Look, I'm travelling up tonight. Come with me, spend a day or two at the ranch, away from the crap and chaos of LA and make up your own mind. We're a community of people with the same outlook as you. I'll be around the Sanctuary all day today so just let me or Patten know if you wanna come.'

'I don't think I'm what you're looking for. I don't normally share my opinions or company with others.'

'There are no expectations of anyone, no pressure.' Freddie Patten said. 'As Ant said, think it over and if nothing else use it as a break for a few days. Guaranteed your own room - no stinky old men who snore or guys that will steal your belongings the moment your back is turned.'

'Maybe.' Callen responded. He looked at the two men and stood. 'Gotta go'.

Callen grabbed his rucksack and turned his back on the two men, pausing before taking a decisive step towards the door. The coffee had been surprisingly good but he needed time alone to call in to Ops. With things moving quicker than anticipated, he needed Deeks to make his entrance by early afternoon to allow enough time for him to orchestrate an invite to the ranch for his new partner.