"You've got everything?" Kensi asked, for the seventh time that morning.

"I've got everything." Marty was no keener to leave than she was to see him go. Last night he'd brought Densi into bed with them and they had lain there, with the baby snuggled safely in between them, holding hands and talking about all their dreams for him: how he would be tall and strong and happy and how he would always know how much he was loved. "It's only for a few days."

"I know." Kensi smiled and then picked up Densi. "Go and give your Daddy a big hug, darling."

They'd spent a long weekend talking, trying to shore up one another, trying to work out how two damaged people could help each other to heal. And each conversation had ended the same way – in a slow, languid celebration of their love, reaffirming the fact that there was no-one else, that there never could be anyone else. And they hung onto to the memory of that, just as they had literally clung onto one another.

Marty took Densi into his arms and almost changed his mind there and then. One of the worst things about going undercover was the way you had to leave all traces of your real life behind. There could be no photographs of his son or his wife, and even the IPod in his jacket pocket was filled with someone else's music. Marty Deeks had ceased to exist, and Scott Hardy had taken his place. So the best thing that Marty could do was to try to fix every detail of Densi in his mind, from the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, to the way his face would light up and the gurgling chuckle that was possibly the sweetest sound in the world. For one last time he felt the baby-soft skin, the wispy downiness of his hair and inhaled the sweet scent of his skin. "You be a good boy for Mommy, okay?" Handing him back felt like a betrayal.

"We'll be fine," Kensi said. "And we'll be right here, waiting for you." She fixed a bright smile on her face and then stood on the driveway and watched as he drove away. "Looks like it's you and me then, kiddo." It was a good thing she had the baby relaxation class at eleven this morning, followed by lunch with one of her new friends. And afterwards she had a pile of laundry to do while Densi napped, so there would be little time to worry. Not that there was any reason to worry. As long as she kept telling herself that, Kensi knew she would be fine. And so would Marty. "You just be careful, Marty Deeks," she whispered. "Because I swear I'll kill you if you get hurt again. And don't bother to enjoy yourself too much." And then she yelped out loud with pain as Densi grabbed a handful of hair and pulled with surprising strength.


"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Mr Deeks." It was still early enough in the morning for the Mission to be almost empty. Hetty had grown accustomed to catching up with her never-ending paperwork before people started to filter in. "To what do I owe this honour?" She took a sip of tea and steeled herself for the worst.

"I need you to look after this for me." He held a parcel, labelled with Kensi's name, but Hetty kept her hands clasped firmly in her lap.

"Should I ask what it contains?" She looked at him carefully, as if seeing him for the first time, taking in the unusually neat hair and clean shaven face, the crisply pressed chinos and immaculate polo shirt. Already he had changed into his new persona and there was hardly anything of the Marty Deeks she knew left in the man that sat before her. Except for the look in his eyes. The same look she'd seen when she sat beside his hospital bed and told him his father was dead – the look of a man with nothing to lose, and yet conversely the man who already lost everything.

"Probably not. It's kind of private." Marty saw the apprehension on her face. "Everything's fine, Hetty. Really. This is just in case I'm not here on Thursday. In which case I'm asking youto give it to Kensi then, with my love. With all my love. And you tell her I'll be back to collect in person. She'll understand."

Hetty looked at her calendar and smiled as she recognised the significance of the date. "In that case, it would be my pleasure." She put the parcel into her desk drawer and then locked it. "I'll keep it here for you, shall I? Just until you return. And then you can give it to her person. Just don't be late." She cocked her head to one side inquiringly, and was relieved when he managed a smile.

"I'll do my best. Thanks." Marty stood up and held out his hand. "Thanks for everything, Hetty."

"But I haven't done anything yet," she protested.

"You've done enough." She'd done pretty much everything that had led his life to this stage, Marty thought. Somehow, Hetty had manoeuvred him into NCIS, which had introduced Kensi into his life. She'd even managed to make him face the past he'd kept hidden away so successfully for all these years. And now he was no longer alone, with no-one to put down as next of kin except his de facto boss. Now he finally had a family of his own. Maybe when he came back from this mission, he'd finally be able to talk about his father. It was probably time to put those demons to rest.

"And I will continue to do what I can. Starting by having a rather necessary little conversation with your colleagues." She'd been preparing a speech all weekend, one that would flay the skin of most men.

Marty shook his head. "It's not the time. And it's not worth it. Just leave it."

"You're sure?" In a strange way, Hetty had been looking forward to the showdown. But she respected the way her agent just shook his head. Only he wasn't her agent. Not yet. She'd tried everything in her power to persuade him to join NCIS, but that stubborn streak just made him dig his heels in, despite the fact that he fitted in so perfectly to the team, just as she had always known he would. You were wasted in LAPD. This is where you belong. And I hope you realise that before too long.

"I'm sure." He leant back across the desk and whispered "Look after Kensi for me."

"It will be my pleasure." For a moment, Hetty thought he was going to kiss her cheek, but she was mistaken, for he took a step back and the shutters fell down over his face, resuming the mask that hid his emotions.

"I'll be seeing you then." He knew that she would be watching and waiting, just as she always had, since the day she approached him in that bar. For the first time, Marty wondered if Hetty had been watching him for a long time before that. Once this whole gig is over, you and I are going to have to sit down and have a long overdue chat about things, starting with the late and unlamented Gordon John Brandel. He'd always suspected that Hetty knew rather more about his background than he'd ever let on.

"I'll be waiting, Marty." Her words fell upon empty walls, for he had already gone. "And be careful," she added. Hetty had never got used to sending an agent out alone, never got over the vague feeling of unease about the lack of immediate backup, and the day that she did was the day Hetty Lange would tender her resignation and walk out without looking back.

Marty walked out into the bright sunshine and winced as his eyes protested at the harsh light. In the distance he could see Callen and Sam arriving into the parking lot, car-pooling once again. But he didn't feel like talking, he just wanted to get this whole undercover operation over and done with so that he could go back to his old life – and most of all, go back to his wife and son

"One of these days you're going to have to learn to say 'no', Deeks," he vowed and then drove away without looking back.,

"Looks like Deeks isn't in a talkative mood this morning." Sam looked at the extra cup of coffee he'd bought as a token peace offering. "You want to share a triple shot grande latte, G?"

They slunk into the Mission in the manner of men who do not wish to draw attention to themselves, and Hetty suppressed a smile as she watched them sidle as unobtrusively as possible up to their respective desks like naughty schoolboys, before burying themselves in paperwork. Clearly she would have to threaten them with reading the riot act rather more often. As it was, she decided to let them stew a little longer, purely because they were being so industrious, and she was loath to break their concentration.

Callen was soon thanking his lucky stars that they'd bought that extra coffee, because catching up on the best part of two months' worth of reports was not exactly the most scintillating of ways to pass a Monday morning. If he ducked his head down and to the left, he could just manage to see Hetty sitting at her desk, sitting as immobile and as unreadable as the Sphinx.

"She's making us sweat it out," he typed and sent the email to Sam, who grimaced and started typing a response.

"Cruel and unusual treatment," Kensi read out Sam's response in a clear voice. "Is sending emails the modern equivalent of passing notes behind the teacher's back?" she asked rhetorically.

"Hetty's been teaching you her ninja tricks, hasn't she?" Callen asked, once he'd recovered his breath. How the hell did you manage to creep up behind me like that?

"No need. I'm a mother now, remember? I've learned to move as silently as a shadow passing across the face of the moon when Densi's asleep." She looked at their faces. "Come on – that was pretty poetic."

"It was," Sam informed her. "Which was why it sounded so funny coming out of your mouth." He took a good look at her. "Okay – what's wrong with this picture? Not only doesn't it sound like you, there's something missing."

"Deeks, with his tongue hanging out?" Callen offered, noticing Kensi was wearing a pair of jeans that clung to her like a second skin. "Nice to have you back, by the way."

Kensi pulled out her chair and sat down. "Thanks. It's good to be back."

"Okay – what have you done with the baby?" Sam looked around as if he expected to see Densi reposing in a handy filing tray, or perhaps carrying out an impromptu audit of the stationery cupboard.

"Oh, I left him," Kensi said airily and watched the twin looks of horror cross their faces. "In a nursery, you idiots. And just for a couple of hours." She tried to look and sound as nonchalant as possible, but her stomach was doubling over on itself as she remembered walking out and leaving her baby all alone, with complete strangers. She'd never felt so guilty in her entire life. And while it was great to be back here, a part of her was missing Densi so much that it actually hurt. He was so little and he needed his Mommy and Daddy. And now that Daddy was away, he needed Mommy even more and she'd abandoned him. In her mind, Kensi could see her son, small face crumpled and stained with tears as he howled out his misery. That was it – she was going straight back to collect him and…

"How nice to see you back, dear. Easing yourself in gently, are you? How very wise. Perhaps we could have a cup of tea and a chat?" Hetty kept talking as she led Kensi over to her desk and busied herself preparing a fresh pot of tea.

"Close escape," Sam typed and watched as his partner nodded sagely. He deleted the message thread. Some people might have said he was being paranoid, but then they had never worked with Hetty. You simply couldn't be too careful where she was concerned.

"We keep back-up tapes, you know," Hetty informed Kensi, seemingly a propos of nothing. "Every keystroke is logged. You can never actually erase anything you create on a computer. It's always there, somewhere. You just have to know where to look." It was inordinately satisfying to see how the two men cringed as they registered her words.

"We need to speak to Eric," Callen mouthed.

"Lip reader – remember?" Kensi called out. "And they say it's women who have problems with short-term memory." She sat down opposite Hetty and took a sip of tea. "This is wonderful."

"Chamomile – it's very soothing." Hetty regarded her solemnly over the rim of her bone china cup. "I think we'll let them stew a little longer, don't you?"

"Why not keep them simmering at a gentle heat for the rest of the day?" Kensi suggested, slightly heartlessly, remembering the jibes from before the weekend. "Give them a taste of their own medicine?."

"Why not, indeed?" Hetty did love it when she found a kindred spirit.


Evil plot bunny is sitting in the corner with a decided smirk on his face. He's up to something, I know he is...