Chapter 11: Lost

"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." – Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Jack smirks as their footsteps echo down the stairs, his grin still in place when Callen reaches out to pull the hood off his head. He shifts slightly, testing the strength of his restraints, but the blonde obviously knows what he's doing, tying them just tight enough to hold him, cutting off the circulation without breaking the skin. Jack's heard whispers of him attached to a dozen different names; he's still not entirely sure which one is right, if any. Instead he goes with the scant information he got from his CIA handler back before he became a fugitive, before they turned on him and set him up because he knew too much for everyone's good, "Agent Callen, you're a hard man to find."

Callen's expression doesn't change, doesn't give anything away as to if he's correct or not, just arches an eyebrow in silent challenge as he backs up leaning against the wall. Jack isn't really expecting anything different, the agent's a legend in more ways than one, and he's heard all the rumours. That's part of why he's here, part of why he told Sarah Masters to give them his location.

It's the other man, Deeks Jack remembers, that steps forward though. He's an enigma, someone his sources inside the intelligence community couldn't get a bead on. He knew the basics of course, an LAPD detective who'd been brought up to play with the big leagues, a team member but not actually an agent of their Special Projects Office. But he knew nothing of why he was here, why Callen had decided to bring back up when he was known for working alone. He focuses on the man, trying to sort him out. His dark eyes card over the detective, over lanky limbs held tense in anger, up to ocean blue eyes hard with something more than simple mistrust and a mop of dirty blonde hair that would have given any self-respected drill Sargent a coronary. "You, I wasn't expecting." He admits before turning back to Callen, "Why the LAPD lapdog?"

Callen chuckles and it's not the nice kind either, rather cold and harsh, the type that makes goose bumps break out across his skin, and the detective growls, unsheathing a blade from behind his back, and all but lunges for Jack. Callen whistles lowly, the sound sharp in the small, confined space and grins, showing far too many teeth in a way that sets Jack's nerves on edge, as he smirks at Deeks, "Down boy."

The detective shifts, turning his glare on the agent and for a moment Jack isn't sure who he's more likely to attack, then his gaze shifts down and Jack's eyes narrow as he finally gets a good look at the blade he'd pulled. A crudely carved bone handle with an inset three inch serrated blade, it's all too familiar to him and he tears his eyes away from that knife, her knife and meets Deeks' glare head on, "And now I know why you're here."

"So why are you here?" Callen asks as he paces around the room, staying behind Jack for longer than is really necessary. It's a clear intimidation tactic and they both know it. Jack knows his record, knows he's broken greater men in rooms like these, but he refuses to be cowed.

"I was here looking for the Ghost." Jack admits, and it's the truth. He was here looking for a sort of phantom, just not the one they think. He'd known the CIA was getting ready to turn on him, heard the rumours from Sarah about the man who'd left the Agency's black ops, and played a desperate card. Jack rolls his head to the side, sharp eyes catching Callen's form as the agent props one shoulder against the wall staying enough in Jack's blind spot to remain invisible. "And it looks like I found him."

Callen shrugs, a smirk dancing in his eyes, as he stalks back to the front of the room, ignoring the confusion on Deeks' face as the detective glances between them. He tips his head toward Jack in something that might be a concession on any other man, to Jack it just looks knowing, "Well played."

Deeks jerks at his words, fingers twitching in what looks like an aborted grab for his gun, and Callen frowns at him, something in his eyes that's hard to read laid bare and then gone before the detective can piece it out. He's as sure as he can be that he's gotten all the answers from Callen that he's going to get and rounds on Jack instead, hand clenched tight around Kensi's knife as he demands, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Jack shrugs something jealous and vindictive rearing its head as he takes in the anger on Deeks' tanned features. They don't have a lot of time and he knows it, but still he's enjoying playing with him, baiting him, "Why don't you ask your handler over there?"

Deeks rounds on him, bright blue eyes clouded with rage and Callen moves closer despite the fact that he hasn't relaxed his grip on Kensi's knife yet. The harsh lighting plays shadows across his features, highlighting the frown tugging at the corners of his mouth at the distrust on the detective's face and Jack stays wisely silent. "I am the Ghost, Deeks. Or rather was."

Deeks rocks back on his heels, looking for all the world like he's just been sucker punched, but his white-knuckled grip on you Kensi's knife doesn't relax not even when Callen turns his back on him, and Deeks isn't entirely sure how to take that. It's either a show of trust or a blatant dismissal and both are out of character for the lead agent. Deeks sucks in a breath and tucks the blade back in its place on his belt. Callen's paced a trail back to the opposite corner but he watches Deeks closely, blue eyes icy in their scrutiny as the detective tears his gaze away from Jack. "So Kensi was sent here looking for you?"

"No," Callen amends after a moment of stony silence. There's something almost distant in his tone now, his expression closed off even more than normal, but Deeks can't bring himself to question it. Not when Callen's clearly been hiding things from him this whole time. "She was sent here looking for the White Ghost."

There's a moment of empty silence broken only by the low hum of the single fluorescent strip on the ceiling as Deeks waits for answers and Jack just looks amused before the agent continues, "I did wet work for the CIA, Deeks, everything from undercover gigs to black sites. The Ghost was my call sign. I haven't used it in almost a decade so when the rumours got back to me about the White Ghost being linked to half a dozen murders in Afghanistan I looked in to it. Which is what you were hoping for, wasn't it?"

Jack tips his head in something that Deeks choses to interpret as agreement and he can't help but wonder if vague body language is an actual course that these guys are taught or if it just comes naturally. "I knew the CIA was going to burn me. For guys versed in spy craft they're not very subtle."

Callen chokes out a laugh, and Deeks knows him well enough by now to recognize it as genuine. Apparently the lead agent has his own history with unsubtle spies and Deeks wonders if he's the only one left revelling in the irony. Jack smirks in answer before sobering, "I know more about you than you think. I've heard the rumours. You know as well as I do that retiring from the Agency isn't an option."

Callen shifts, looking distinctly uncomfortable and Deeks steps forward shifting Jack's attention away from the lead agent. He's backing him up instinctively. They've never really worked as partners, and Deeks wouldn't call them friends, and he's almost surprised to find he feels guilty about doubting him earlier. "So you figured you'd sell some information on your way out? Commit treason because you couldn't get your retirement package?"

Jack shakes his head in sullen disbelief, "What would you know? You've never been in deep. The agency doesn't work that way, once you're in, it's not that easy to get out."

"He's right, Deeks," Callen speaks up suddenly, his voice low and echoic against the concrete walls, "You can't just retire from the CIA, Deeks. Once you've outlived your usefulness, you're expendable."

Deeks dips his head to the side in silent question. He knows bits and pieces of Callen's history, but one thing stands out. He catches Callen's eyes and the ex-operative shakes his head. It's a clear not now and Deeks goes along with it wordlessly. "It's great that you two are spy games buddies now, but that's not why we're here."

G rolls icy blue eyes at his wording, but follows his lead and Deeks leans forward in interest as the lead agent turns on Jack, "Where's Kensi, Jack?"