Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, Jocelyn repeated to herself.

The red car sped down the oceanside boulevard as Alina Kirsonov sat in the passenger seat doing exactly that: panicking. A mixture of Russian expletives and coherent sentences poured from her lips rapid-fire, and Jocelyn was hard pressed to pay attention.

"My father told me I'd been promised to some politician. If I left, it would be his head, and my mother's. That's why he never hurt me more; I needed to be beautiful for my husband. But I'm no longer a virgin, and that would cost him. He said he would kill me and pass it off as a random act of violence."

"Alina, be quiet."

"I still can't believe you left him!"

"Alina, please be quiet. You can tell us when we see the others."

"How could you leave him behind? Your own fiancé!"

Not my fiancé.

The detective's fingers gripped the steering wheel as if it was her sanity. She was one touch away from unloading on the very woman she wanted to save. Instead, she peeled one hand off the wheel and dialed Sam's phone.

"Hart?" the agent answered. "What's going on?"

"They got him, Sam," she choked out. "They got Gabe."


Where am I?

The thought echoed vacantly in Callen's head as he slowly awoke. Consciousness spread through his body; he silently assessed his state. First, he noted he was seated on a chair, the coolness of the metal felt through his t-shirt. His hands were numb; he wiggled his fingers gingerly only to discover they were tied around the back of the chair. His legs were similarly bound to the legs of the chair.

Blinking slowly, he suppressed a wince and took note that his left eye was swollen and likely bruised. His nose, too, felt itchy. He wiggled it, dislodging some of the blood caked down his lip. Bodily assessment complete, he moved on to his surroundings.

There was little ambient light.

Basement.

No sounds filtered in from the outside world.

Soundproof basement.

Eyes slid left to right, but other than his chair and one other, the room was empty. His exit was maybe five paces in front of him, a wooden staircase upward ending in a probably locked door.

He stretched his fingers again; pins and needles shot up his arm.

Good, he thought. Pain meant blood was flowing. What he wouldn't give for someone to scratch his nose.

The door creaked open and Callen allowed himself to go limp once more.

Footsteps descended the stairs; Callen counted ten in total. A hulking shadow blocked out the ceiling lamp and he knew Baldy stood above him.

"Anything?" a female voice called down in Russian.

Interesting. That cinched his suspicion these were the Russian consul's fixers.

"No," Baldy replied, also in Russian. "He's still unconscious."

"Poor baby," Red remarked, joining Baldy. "What was he doing there anyway?"

"Maybe he was just along for the ride."

"Because rich, corporate philanthropists follow their fiancées to extractions? He was packing and knew how to fight well enough to knock me out."

Callen suppressed the urge to laugh. They still thought he was Jocelyn's fiancé! They underestimated his skill; he could use that against them. Already they assumed he didn't speak the language...a language he'd heard since birth.

"From what I hear, his corporation is international. Guys like him learn to fight in case of kidnapping. He's been trained for this, that's the only explanation."

There was a moment of silence as Red contemplated Baldy's theory. "Trained or not, this stinks to high heaven. Our orders were simple: snag the daughter and deliver her to her parents. It's common knowledge Hart is a royal screw-up; the job should have been easy."

"Now that we have him, what do we do?"

"Do?" Red repeated. "We call his girlfriend."

"The detective?"

"The one who's so madly in love with him, she'd do anything we say just to get him back. Love is blind and stupid, Alex. She'll swap the girl for the boyfriend; we just have to ask nicely."

"And you just let them go?"

"Of course not!" Red laughed. "Hart is a loose end. Once we have her, we dispose of her and her lover."

"What if she doesn't come?"

"Oh, she'll come. Shame, too; this one's quite the looker." Red sighed wistfully. "Wake him up."


"You did WHAT?" Sam growled for the umpteenth time.

Back in the boathouse, Jocelyn managed to finish her tale without breaking. Alina was deposited in the interrogation room, but at this particular moment, Jocelyn was in the hot seat.

"He ordered me to leave him behind," Jocelyn defended.

"That doesn't mean you actually do!"

Kensi and Deeks stood wisely to the side, passively watching the debate.

"I'm sorry!" Jocelyn's own guilt stung; she deflected it by firing back at the SEAL. "I'm sorry for saving a domestic abuse victim from the corrupt consul with diplomatic immunity!"

"Save your sarcasm," Sam shot back. "You are without a doubt the worst excuse for a detective I have ever had the displeasure of working with."

Jocelyn opened her mouth in protest, but he cut her off.

"You put together a high risk extraction with no backup, risking not only your own pathetic life, but the life of another. Now, we don't know if he's dead or just held for unimaginable reasons. I hope you lose your badge for this."

Though Jocelyn was used to hearing such sentiments, the words were usually passed behind her back or by her father...who she'd tuned out long ago. The truth she'd long denied,, spoken face to face, hit her square in the chest.

She gathered herself with a deep breath and looked Sam in the eye. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but we do have to work together. I never intended to leave him behind, and now that they've got him, I intend to get him back."

"The hell you will," Sam swore. "Your incompetence is what got him caught in the first place."

"For the last time, I did as I was told."

"As if you ever do what you're told."

Agent Sam Hanna was an intimidating character. The red shirt stretched across his hulking muscles; the vein in his neck pulsed with barely suppressed rage. Deeks knew Sam was only speaking out of fear for his partner, but Jocelyn didn't. It was her hard-taught stubbornness that stuck her to her guns.

"He made the hard decision, and so did I. Now let me help you get him back."

"Over my dead body. Stay with the girl if she's so important to you."

Deeks had enough. "That's not fair and you know it," he spoke, stepping forward.

The full measure of Sam's rage turned on his coworker, pinning him where he stood. Sam drew breath to let Deeks have it, but was interrupted by a familiar ring.

Jocelyn winced as her pocket buzzed and chimed; every eye turned on her.

"Hart."

Jocelyn's heart caught in her chest at the sound of the heavily-accented female voice.

"If you wish to see Gabriel Clark again, you will bring the girl to West end of the Santa Monica Pier by noon today."

Sam pressed his ear against the phone to hear the message as well. Deeks pulled up the video feed with the click of a button and texted Eric to trace the number calling Jocelyn.

"That's too soon," Jocelyn objected, in an attempt to extend the call. She'd made a royal mess of everything; she was determined to do this right.

"Noon, or never," came the rebuttal.

Against her cheek, Sam nodded his concurrence.

"Noon it is."

Proof of life, he mouthed.

"But I'm not doing anything until I know Gabe's alive."

"Fair enough."

Muffled footsteps echoed on the phone; Jocelyn waited on bated breath.

"Princess?" his voice rasped. Baldy must have hit him across the throat at some point.

"Hey, loverboy," Jocelyn smiled despite herself, Sam's Look wiped it right off.

"Could you tell one of these two Russian motherfuckers to please scratch my nose?"

Callen's cleverness was rewarded with what Jocelyn assumed was a punch to the face.

"Thanks," he snarked.

"I'm coming to get you, baby."

"Do we have a deal?" Red was back on the line. "Your fiancé for the girl?"

Jocelyn looked from Deeks to Kensi, and finally to Sam, who nodded once more.

"We have a deal."

"Come alone."

The line went dead.

Three hours later, Jocelyn stood amid the unrelenting swarm of tourists on the Santa Monica Pier. Alina was latched on to her arm, silent, but unmistakably nervous. Sam and Deeks were blended into the crowd seamlessly while Eric and Nell scanned the security cameras from back at the OSP. Kensi was aloft, her sniper rifle trained on anyone remotely suspicious.

In contrast to Jocelyn's previously catastrophic operation, this quickly scrambled rescue felt professional. A wave of guilt swept over her once more, reminding her just how terribly she'd behaved. No one agreed to an extraction within thirty minutes of the act without proper backup and preparation. She was far too junior to take on the responsibility and far too cocky to ignore Callen's instruction. It would be a wonder if he ever wanted to see her again after this.

"I'm going to say it," Deeks broke the comm silence. "I don't like this. It's too crowded."

"Hopefully it means they won't kill Callen," Jocelyn replied.

"Or," Kensi interjected, "they could just shoot him and no one would know where the shot came from."

"Aren't you a little ray of sunshine," Deeks chided his partner.

Kensi didn't apologize. "From a tactical standpoint, this place is a nightmare. Any number of scenarios could go down, none of which play in our favor."

"Nightmare or not, we have no choice but to continue forward," Sam interjected. He was tense, and rightly so. As a Navy SEAL, Sam was trained to undergo intense stress and difficult situations. He would handle himself well in the action, but the waiting killed him.

"There's two people moving toward you, Hart," Nell's voice informed Jocelyn.

"Is Callen with them?" Sam asked.

"One female, one hooded. He's the right build, but I can't be certain."

Jocelyn resisted the urge to bite her lip. Instead, she focused on her charge. "Breathe, Alina."

The blonde beside her gulped audibly.

Then, through the crowd, the redhead emerged. Jocelyn's breath hitched; she'd recognize the outline of Callen's body anywhere. She could barely make out his chin under the shadow of the hood, and his hands were likely cuffed inside the kangaroo pocket of the jacket.

"Confirmed," she muttered. "The hoodie is Gabe."

"Didn't Callen tell us there were two bad guys?" Deeks wondered aloud.

"Already looking, partner," Kensi replied.

Red greeted with a haughty smile. "Detective Hart, I presume, and the lovely Alina."

Jocelyn nodded curtly. "How do you want to do this?"

Red glanced around. "Not here."

The detective could almost feel her teammates mental groans. They were already at a disadvantage; a change of position only played more into the enemy's hands. She hesitated, uncomfortable with the suggestion. Underneath the hood, Jocelyn barely made out Callen's nod for her to obey.

"Where to?"

"Follow me," Red instructed, expertly weaving her way through the crowd to an alley. A shop rose on one side of the pier, the other dropped into the rolling ocean. Beside the far-off parasailing boat, no one would pay witness to whatever was about to go down.

Kensi made her way across the rooftops. "Stall her," she ordered. "I'll let you know when I'm in position."

"You're cut off," Eric chimed in. "The alley's a serious blind spot."

Deeks swore as he and Sam approached the alley. "There's no way we can cover you without blowing cover."

For the second time in one day, Jocelyn found herself between a rock and a hard place, Alina Kirsonov at her side. There was no way she'd go through with the trade, but she wasn't about to blow the team's cover until Callen was safely in hand.

They stood about ten paces apart, Jocelyn's back to the ocean, Red's to the exit.

"Let me see him," she called.

Red pulled the hood off of Callen's face. Alina gasped. Jocelyn only bit her lip harder.

The agent's eye was bruised and swollen. His jaw as well showed signs of a struggle, and his nose was definitely broken.

"Baby," she sighed, "what did they do to you?"

He mustered up a grin. "Nothing I couldn't handle. You okay?"

"I'm so sorry; this is all my fault."

"In position," Kensi interrupted.

Callen took an involuntary step forward. The impulse to console her overwhelmed him, but Red's arm tightened around his.

"Not so fast; hand over the girl."

"This is a swap," Jocelyn objected. "They walk at the same time. You take your prize, I take mine."

Red flipped her hair impatiently. "Fine."

Jocelyn looked to Alina. "Ready?"

The flash of a reflection from the parasailing boat blinded Kensi for a moment. "Wait!" Kensi whispered. She pointed her scope at the suspicious boat. "There's a sniper on the boat."

"We need Callen out of her hands before you do anything," Sam reminded her.

"Well?" Red prompted.

"Hart, I've got the shot, but you'll have to tell me when."

Jocelyn released Alina as Red released Callen. It was the longest five seconds of her life as the two hostages approached each other.

"Fire!" she growled.

A shot cracked through the air like thunder as Kensi's shot rang true. Callen grabbed Alina and hit the deck. Joy flooded Jocelyn's system for the barest moment replaced by dread as Red leveled her gun at Callen. Jocelyn acted before thinking. Her gun, once tucked in the small of her back, slapped into her palms and fired a direct hit to Red's leg.

Sam and Deeks rushed in to disarm the assassin; Jocelyn could only stand in shock at what she'd just done. On the dock, Alina whimpered into Callen's shoulder.

"Don't worry, gobulshka," he consoled, standing with her. "I've got you."


For all the chaos of the day, the case promised to wrap up cleanly. Alina's testimony, finally recorded and coherent, answered any questions NCIS had. Red, her given name Alexa Romanov, took a bit more coaxing. Callen was more than happy to coerce her and, when faced with her former captive, she told all.

Callen watched Jocelyn closely throughout the proceedings. The hypersensitivity to her every move was a shock even him. Whether it was because she'd just saved his life or because he knew how she must feel, he didn't know. He refused to even entertain the third option: that he cared.

She never left Alina's side, but she didn't speak much either-unusual for the typically talkative detective. The end of the interviews found Alina asleep on the sofa, Jocelyn guarding her on the matching loveseat. Borrowed jean shorts cropped to reveal toned legs, curled onto the cushions. Jocelyn's face was void of emotion, but the bags under her eyes betrayed the truth: she was beyond exhausted.

Empathy flooded his conscience; he knew exactly what she was feeling. Deeks had given her a hug of encouragemet while Callen looked on resentfully. He dared not explore the cause of the annoyance, choosing to answer his phone instead.

"You seem to have survived another day, Mr. Callen," Hetty greeted him. For a former agent and all around badass, the warmth in her voice held a motherly tone.

"Can't get rid of me that easily."

"So it seems. How are you feeling?"

"A little bruised, but nothing I can't handle."

"And Ms. Hart?" Hetty asked innocently.

Callen glanced over at the detective. "Outwardly unscathed. I can't comment on her mindset, though. She isn't cut out for this."

"That is something she will have to discover for herself."

The agent bristled. "She's going to get herself killed long before then. It's not like I'll be on every case she gets."

"Just because she may or may not be cut out for this job does not mean she can't do it. Ms. Hart is a very capable person who has yet to plumb the depths of her potential. It isn't your place to protect her."
"She can barely protect herself."

"She saved your life, Mr. Callen. Don't discredit her abilities so quickly. Ms. Hart could have sent someone in her place or let you escape on your own-like another woman in your acquaintance."

The reference to Tracy cut to Callen's gut. It wasn't like Hetty to bring up his ex wife, but the comparison was relevant. Jocelyn may not be the model detective, but she had risked her life when Tracy had blanched. Callen looked over to the woman on the sofa. She was tired and scared but brave all at once.

"Mr. Callen?" Hetty interrupted his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Be sure to get the ring back from Ms. Hart."

"Understood," he replied. "I'll wait for WitSec here."

Attaching the phone to his hip once more, Callen made his way over to Jocelyn.

"What was that all about?" she asked as he sat beside her.

"Hetty wants to make sure I get the ring back."

Jocelyn blinked. "Right. I bet you're glad to be a free man once again."

"Engagement to you wasn't that bad," he laughed. "I've had worse fake relationships."

"Oh?" Jocelyn's curiosity was piqued.

"Stories for another time, Princess."

It was only when she worked the ring off her finger and placed it in his palm. His hand closed around hers.

"Hart, you're shaking."

"It's just the shock," she shrugged, looking away. "I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."

Her hand was cold in his, but he didn't let go.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'll be fine."

"You did just shoot someone."

"She was going to shoot you."

Behind green eyes, Jocelyn fought to keep herself together, but one look into his icy blue ones and all bravado disappeared.

"Gabe, I was so worried!" she breathed. "I thought you were going to die."

"But I'm fine now. I've been shot countless times anyway," he grinned valiantly. "I've got a torso like swiss cheese."

Her whole body trembled with relief. "I know. I just couldn't imagine losing you. You're too valuable to your team and I'm just a screw up."

"You aren't a screw up."

"Don't lie to me, I know you think it, too. At least have the guts to say it to my face."

"I'm not saying you aren't a bit unorthodox, but you solved the case, and saved both Alina and I." He lifted her chin with his free hand when she looked away again. "Jocelyn Hart, I owe you my life."
The conviction in his words struck Jocelyn's core. Callen could see his words strike home. Her body relaxed for a moment, then before he knew what was happening, her lips were on his.


Jocelyn didn't know if it was exhaustion or if she was just glad to be alive, but she knew that Callen's lips were just the medicine she needed. Her fingers laced through his, drawing him closer to receive the nearness she craved. It was his choice to respond; she was happy to take a single kiss and walk away, but right as she moved to break the kiss, he deepened it.

One calloused hand tangled itself in her raven locks, the other took hold of her waist and pulled her into his lap. Her mind went blissfully blank as his tongue slid into her gasping mouth. The adventures and misadventures of the day were wiped clean. Only Jocelyn and Callen remained.

In the back of his mind, Callen knew this was a bad idea. He'd laid down the law for her before: no relationships with law enforcement personnel.

A kiss isn't a relationship, a wicked thought reminded him. You need this as much as her.

He wasn't thinking with his head right now anyway. He would remind Jocelyn of the rules...in just a moment.

This moment was pure sensation. His fingers roved her body, committing the landscape of every supple curve to memory. The bared skin of her legs was smooth and flawless; the uncharted territory of her neck reaped the reward of a throaty moan. He wondered what other treasures unexplored mountains and caves could yield. Her hands, too, explored the velvet of his close-cropped hair, urging his intrepid lips onward. Careful of his bruised face and bandaged nose, her tenderness was infuriating.

He should stop, he reminded himself. Alina slept only a few feet away, albeit soundly, and the sounds Jocelyn exuded gained volume with every touch. But she kissed like Aphrodite herself, with experience and passion and purpose. Any lesser man would be lost right now, and Callen was well on his way down the winding path.

A curt rap at the door ended his inward battle.

"WitSec!"

Jocelyn nearly fell extricating herself from her companion. Callen avoided her gaze, so she rose to answer the door. On the sofa, Alina's eyelids fluttered in confusion. Callen breathed an inward sigh of relief; she hadn't seen anything.

"Are you ready, Alina?" Jocelyn asked.

Alina nodded. "I'm ready."

Jocelyn handed her a business card. "If you ever need anything, call me. I'll be there."

"You know that she can't contact anyone from her past directly," one of the Marshals interrupted. "Her enemies know who you are and will be on the lookout."

Annoyance flared; Jocelyn's face flushed. "Aren't you charming."

Callen put a calming hand on Jocelyn's arm but spoke to the offending Marshal. "But you will contact her should Ms. Kirsonov need Ms. Hart's assistance."

"You'll be all right?" Jocelyn asked Alina once more.

"I'll be fine. I was scared to do this before, but any time I'm scared, I'll think of you."

Jocelyn embraced the girl. "I'll tell you a secret: I was terrified."

"That's what makes you the perfect person to inspire."

"We've got to move," the Marshal broke them apart with his tone alone.

Like that, Alina was gone. Jocelyn sank back into the sofa but Callen didn't move.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Jocelyn addressed the agent's incredulous look.

"I did tell you this couldn't happen."

"But it just did. Alina's free and clear."

"You know damn well I'm not talking about Alina."

She knew. She understood exactly what he meant, but she'd reached maximum absorption.

"It was just a kiss, Callen. No risk of relationship here."

"You're playing with fire, you know that?"

"You needed that kiss as much as I did," she shot back defiantly.

Damn her, he did. "It won't happen again."

Just for the fun of it, Jocelyn licked her lips. "I'll do my best to resist."

"I'm serious, Hart."

She stood stiffly, crossed to the door, and glared at him.

"You won't need to worry about it anyway; the case is over. No need to work together again. My incompetence won't put your life in danger again."

The door slammed behind her, leaving a flabbergasted Callen in its wake. He scrubbed his face with his hands. It was unlikely he'd ever untangle the intricate tapestry of Jocelyn Hart's moods and motivations.