"I still can't believe you kissed him," Kayla laughed, handing Jocelyn another cookbook.
Jocelyn dutifully stacked it in the box labelled 'KITCHEN'. "How many of these do you have?"
After much deliberation, Kayla and Deeks had decided to move into her childhood home. As best friend, Jocelyn was drafted for packing duty along with Kayla's surrogate mother, Claire. A week had passed since Alina's rescue and Jocelyn was doing the best she could to distract herself from the memories.
"Sometimes the best recipes aren't on the internet," Kayla shrugged. "Don't change the subject."
"You absolutely can believe I kissed him."
"That's the worst part. When will you learn to keep it in your pants? Claire, back me up."
"Oh, no, you aren't pulling me into this just because I'm a shrink."
"Come on, Kayla. You're telling me you were never overwhelmed and needed…" Jocelyn's eyes sparked with mischief "… companionship?"
"No!"
Jocelyn quirked a brow. Kayla blushed.
"Maybe, but at least we were committed to each other. You can't seem to stop making out with the one guy who doesn't want you."
"He kissed me back," Jocelyn defended.
"He's attracted to you, of course he kissed you back."
Jocelyn and Kayla turned to Claire in surprise.
"I thought you said you weren't going to chime in," Jocelyn accused Claire with a smile.
The older woman shrugged. "It's hard to resist the drama."
"There is an utter lack of drama here, Claire."
"You kiss a man under the stars then pretend to be his fiancee—during which you kiss him multiple times—and then he gets himself captured helping you rescue Alina. Out of gratitude and need for 'companionship' you share your most passionate kiss yet. Face it, honey, that's drama."
"Fine." Jocelyn threw up her hands. "I prefer my men uncomplicated, attractive, and passing."
"Bullshit," Kayla laughed aloud. "You live for the drama. Why else would you be so stuck on the one man in all of California who doesn't want you. Unless…" she paused for dramatic effect. "you really like him."
"It's attraction, pure and simple."
"It's affection," Claire spoke up with an apologetic shrug.
"The last thing I need is to go pining after some emotionally stunted insomniac with mommy and daddy issues."
Kayla smirked. "You liiiike him."
"I refuse to let you turn me into a emotional ooze. You were hopeless enough gushing over Deeks."
"Are you insinuating I was pathetic when pining after my husband?"
"Don't worry, sweetie, it was entertaining; I just don't picture myself stooping to that level."
"Pardon me for falling in love with my husband. Those days were some of the most fun in my life."
"What's fun about having 90% of your brain power taken up by a man who may or may not be interested in you?"
"I liked having him on my brain all the time. It was a game; memorizing his favorite things, figuring out how to make him smile. I lived for the odd compliment."
"Exactly!" Jocelyn exclaimed victoriously. "Pathetic."
Pulling herself up to her full five feet ten inches, Kayla towered over her sitting friend. "It only seems pathetic to those who have never experienced it. And may I recall you were an advocate of my romance?"
"I am an advocate of you."
"You only wanted to feed off the drama."
"That is unfair!" Jocelyn jumped to her feet.
"You're being unfair!"
Silence reigned. Jocelyn and Kayla glared at each other, neither party backing down. Somewhere inside the detective's mind, Jocelyn noted how strong her friend had become. Eight years ago—even one year ago—Kayla Deeks was an insecure, scarred domestic abuse survivor. Not anymore. She stood, arms crossed, facing off against her closes friend. Marriage was good for her.
Jocelyn sighed and lowered her arms. "You're right, sweetie. I'm sorry."
"I forgive you, you messed up chick." Kayla squeezed Jocelyn's shoulder. "But you need to realize there's something wrong with the way you approach the men in your life."
Claire laughed and Jocelyn shrugged. "If he'd slept with me that first night, there would be no drama."
In the corner, Claire was deep in thought. "Did you ever stop to think he didn't sleep with you because he likes you?"
"He didn't sleep with me…because he likes me?" Jocelyn puzzled. "I thought you were supposed to be smart about people."
"He said he wouldn't sleep with you because you were a cop, right?"
"Yes."
"But he already knew your reputation of hit it and quit it."
"Deeks told him."
"Government agent capable of compartmentalizing his life can't have a one night stand and keep things professional?" Claire posed the question.
"Deeks slept with half the cops in California and managed to keep it professional and Deeks is the least professional person I know," Kayla added.
"Ergo, he didn't sleep with you because he's afraid he wouldn't be able to walk away after one night."
A bark of laughter escaped Jocelyn's lips. "Because Gabriel Callen wants a committed relationship? He doesn't strike me as the marrying kind; he was terrified at the thought of being engaged to me—and that was fake."
"That's because he's been married before."
"What?" Jocelyn and Kayla turned as one.
"You heard me."
The gears in Jocelyn's mind started turning. "He insinuated I wasn't his first fiancee, but I thought he was kidding. What happened?"
"That's something you should ask him. He came to NCIS right after I left, but Hetty had me read his file."
"I've read his file, too," Jocelyn stipulated, "but I never saw anything about a wife."
"Hetty tends to have more details than most."
"Did she die?" Kayla asked.
"No."
Jocelyn raised her chin indignantly. "Why would that even matter? That's his problem."
"Joce!" Kayla rebuked her friend. "That's insensitive, even for you."
"It won't change what I think of him."
"Oh, grow up! Not everything is about you."
"He's in my head. This is totally about me."
"If you're going to be so pigheaded about this, at least admit you like him."
"Why?"
"So you can convince me that your mind isn't filled completely with self-centered, self-serving, ego-centric impulses. I know you only befriended me because I remind you of Sophie, but I don't care because you're the closest thing I'll ever have to a sister and you helped me when I needed you. So do me a favor and humor me."
"Kaye…" Jocelyn warned her friend darkly.
"Tell me one thing," ordered Kayla, "one thing you like about him."
"Besides his looks," Claire added.
Kayla agreed with the codicil. "Yeah."
The detective shifted on her feet and smiled tightly. "He gives good advice."
"I give good advice," Kayla objected.
"Advice giving isn't exclusive! For the love of Tom, what do you want from me?" Jocelyn sighed exasperatedly. "Do you want me to tell you I love it when he smiles at me, or when he's got my back. That I think his eyes are the most gorgeous icy blue orbs I've ever seen? How about the way I'm constantly wondering if he'd approve of my decisions? Or how about the fact he won't get out of my fucking head?"
"Any of those will do," a victorious Kayla grinned.
"I can't win, can I?" Jocelyn threw a helpless look at Claire, but the shrink was beaming as well.
"You've trained a worthy opponent."
"I've got to stop doing that, don't I?" Jocelyn sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway. I've made sure we never work together again."
"Because that worked so brilliantly before?"
Jocelyn grinned at Kayla. "Shut up."
"It's healthy what you two have," Claire teased.
Deeks wandered, unsuspecting of the conversation, into the kitchen. "Has anyone seen the tape gun?"
Conversation ceased as the three friends turned to Deeks.
"What?"
"Leave now," Jocelyn advised in a stage whisper.
"Jocelyn likes Callen," Kayla sang.
Rolling her eyes, Jocelyn taped up the box of cookbooks deliberately. "Do not."
"Do to!"
"Okay," Deeks spoke warily. "Next time, leave a note on the door marked 'GIRL TALK, NO BOYS ALLOWED'."
Hefting her box into one arm, Jocelyn handed Deeks the tape gun. "That would probably be a good idea."
"Need help with that?" Deeks reached for her burden.
"No, just hold the door."
Once in the walk-up landing, Jocelyn heaved a sigh of relief. "I think I rubbed off on your wife."
Deeks flashed his signature grin at his friend. Any other girl would swoon at the sight of it, but Jocelyn had bequeathed all attraction the moment she knew Kayla was interested. He was simply a good friend now, one of the few men she could hang around without feeling the need to be 'on'.
"Don't worry," he laughed. "Not all the matchmaking comes from you. Claire is quite the influence as well."
"That's the last thing I need: a shrink and a newlywed running my love life."
"How are you holding up?" he asked, sinking to sit on a box.
Jocelyn sat as well, worrying her lip between her teeth. "Honestly? Not as well as I thought."
Her companion was silent, but his eyes prodded her to continue.
"I'd assumed that once the girl was safe and the bad guys brought to justice, that I could walk away. Job well done, you know? But instead, I can't help but wondering how she's doing. Will she get the counseling she needs in WitSec? Her adult life is only just beginning and she's been torn from everything she knows. Freedom is often scarier than the familiarity of captivity. In my silly little head, I thought I would help her every step of the way, like with Kayla. But now Alina's long gone to heaven knows where and I feel helpless to help her. It must sound crazy. You've solved countless cases, saved dozens of people. Case closed, on to the next one."
"No," he contradicted softly. "I think about every victim I've ever saved. I constantly wonder if they're doing all right. Back when I was a public defender, I got to know victims-and felons-from all walks of life. Each one of them is branded into my memory."
"So how do you move on?"
"You focus on the next case. Put all your energy into saving someone new."
Jocelyn hesitated for a moment, pondering her thoughts. "That I can do. Sophie's body will be exhumed tomorrow and we'll finally have the results backing up my letter and we can finally prosecute Pryor."
"Aren't you supposed to stay away from that case? Personal vendettas can be dangerous."
"And you're one to talk, Deeks. You were so deep into Kayla's case, you were the one to shoot her dad." Jocelyn let out a refreshed sigh and looked skyward. "I never thought I'd say this, but this is one pregnancy test I'm hoping is positive."
"Negative?" The word fell from Jocelyn's mouth, and with it her hopes. Three syllables of pure disappointment.
"Negative," Rose repeated sympathetically. A gloved hand held out the report. The detective took it automatically, but was too disheartened to look.
"How is that possible? The letter said she was pregnant."
"Maybe it was a false pregnancy test."
"Sophie was not killed over a false pregnancy test," Jocelyn swore darkly, the words more denial than actual fact.
Rose opened a fresh scalpel and dug into the cadaver on her table. "If she was pregnant, how far along would she be?"
"By my estimation, she would have been about six weeks along."
"That means the fetus would be pretty small. Twelve years of decomp could have gotten rid of any DNA."
"DNA would be nice, but I just need to prove she was pregnant. Anything to give her note credence."
The medical examiner sighed. "I ran all the standard tests and didn't see anything."
"Are there any non-standard tests you can run?" Jocelyn asked, her voice piquing with hope.
"Are you trying to get me into trouble?"
"Who, me?" Jocelyn asked, her face the picture of innocence. "I'm simply asking a favor of a friend."
"So we're friends now?" the medical examiner asked incredulously.
"I did bring you coffee."
Rose brandished the now-bloody scalpel at the detective. "You know I can't. You aren't even supposed to be here! The Chief told you to stay away from this case. She told me to keep you away from this case. What are you doing here risking your job anyway?"
"I owe it to Sophie," Jocelyn replied, hugging the file to her chest. "I need to do what's right by my friend."
Rose looked up from her work sadly. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I'd lose my job."
Nodding, Jocelyn moved to the door. "I understand."
Jocelyn tried to understand, she really did.
Since she'd met Rose at Alina's boyfriend's crime scene, she'd recognized a potential friend-and ally. Whenever she was at the precinct, Jocelyn made a point to bring her coffee and chatter from the world above ground. Rose was surprisingly cheerful for a medical examiner, if a bit shy, but she had a good heart. Along with the coffee, Jocelyn kept Carlson out of the morgue. In return, Rose gave Jocelyn any and all information she needed.
Until today. The line was drawn at direct orders. She knew Rose had a strong moral compass, and pushing her would only create tension. Jocelyn would have to find another way to prove Sophie's murder. Three days had passed since the exhumation, more than enough time for Rose to find what she needed. The case would be closed for good if Jocelyn didn't move fast enough.
The autopsy report, disguised as interoffice mail, fairly burned a hole in Jocelyn's desk as she waited for the day to end. She would go home and pour over it until every word was memorized. The artist's desk used as her workstation was already scattered with too many stills from Harmon Hotel security, unofficial statements taken from staff that she'd taken personally after the murder, and countless copies from police reports. Beside Sophie's letter, this file was the first breakthrough she'd had in years. The letter was worthless without proof; one could claim Jocelyn wrote it. But a pregnancy would be impossible to refute. It was no secret Sophie was a virgin before Pryor, and she'd never cheat.
Five o'clock rolled and Jocelyn fairly bolted out the door.
Disappointment had ruled the day; Jocelyn was determined to turn that around with the file in her hand. All she needed was a glass of red wine, brie with raspberries, background music, and her desk. She planned to work through the night, if necessary, to glean whatever new information she could. Anticipation thrummed in her head. She clutched the file close enough to smell the combination of records room musk and fresh paper.
A worker dressed in coveralls and wellies bumped past her without so much as an apology, breaking Jocelyn from her reverie.
"Excuse you," she muttered. But it didn't matter. Her apartment was at the end of the hall. She stepped through the threshold and...
"What. The. Hell."
The once immaculate apartment was teeming with men busily moving her belongings about.
"Ms. Hart!" Collins, the landlord appeared behind her.
"Uhm..." Jocelyn choked on the myriad of questions fighting for a voice. "What happened?"
"A pipe burst above your apartment," Collins explained. "We weren't able to stop the leaks before it made it to your apartment."
Jocelyn's mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she took in the room with the new information. The kitchen area, lined with tile, was coated with water but would dry easily. The living and sleeping areas, on the other hand, were saturated in water.
A coverall clad worker was brushing her painstakingly arranged case files into a soggy pile.
"No, no, no!" she yelled, her uniform boots squelching on the sopping carpet. Jocelyn shoved him aside and attempted to stack them with some semblance of order. It would take hours to get it in the right sequence again.
Collins was at her side, trying to calm her down. "We've got to move your things before the water damage is too intense. Your bed will be fine, but the piano might not make it.
Her piano. This day was getting worse by the minute. She'd never be able to afford a new one; the baby grand was the instrument she'd learned on, bequeathed to her by her father. Jocelyn's apartment was large, but the baby grand still took up a large percentage of space. It was insured, but the sentimental value was priceless.
She sucked up the tears that threatened to fall and turned back to Collins. "So what's the plan?"
"With some restorative work, we should be able to have the place dried out by the end of the week. Whatever things we can save will be placed in the downstairs storage facilities until they can be replaced."
"So four days?"
"At the worst."
"And where will I stay?"
"We can set you up at the nearest hotel, the Harmon."
Dread spread from Jocelyn's heart to her fingertips. "No," she shook her head. "No hotels."
"We have no vacant suites for you to stay, Ms. Hart. Either use the hotel or find someplace else."
It took all of her courage to smile and nod curtly. "I'll just pack a bag, then."
It wasn't Collins's fault that the apartment flooded, but Jocelyn was having a hard time absolving him of guilt. He didn't know she avoided hotels since Sophie's death, especially the Harmon Hotel. Besides, she knew Kayla had her back.
"Sweetie, I can't!" Kayla lamented as she wrapped Jocelyn in her arms outside Kayla's walk up. "There's no bed and no water after midnight."
"Can I stay at your new place?"
"No water there either. Marty, Andy, and I are staying with Claire."
"Can I stay at Claire's?" Jocelyn asked desperately. Her eyes misted; tears were inevitable.
Kayla shook her head. "We barely fit as it is."
"I understand."
Emotional exhaustion finally took its toll on Jocelyn; she collapsed to the ground, weeping.
"Sweetie…" Kayla hugged her friend.
And just when Jocelyn thought the day couldn't get any worse, the familiar sound of Callen's boots sounded on the stairs.
"Hi…" he greeted tentatively.
Jocelyn froze. Crouched on the ground beside her best friend was not the way she'd envisioned seeing the agent again.
"Hi," Kayla answered for her.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, I'm fine." She scrambled to her feet and brushed past Callen, bolting down the stairs.
She wasn't fine. Callen didn't need to be a mind reader to know she was hurting. Despite everything, despite the kiss that filled his waking dreams, despite the not-so-little voice screaming at him to turn back, he followed.
"Hart!"
The wayward detective didn't stop. Callen picked up the pace, finally catching her arm and turning her to face him.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing," she insisted, but her red, puffy face contradicted her words.
"Hart," he repeated, his voice dangerous with warning.
Still, she resisted. "You'd think it's stupid."
"I can't know that unless you tell me, Princess."
"I've just had a bad day."
"Must have been a hell of a day." He flashed an easy grin that hit its mark. She softened her stance.
"It really was."
"Tell me," he coaxed, surprised by how much he truly wanted to know.
Jocelyn took a deep breath to still herself. "I got Sophie's test results back."
"And?" The anticipation in his eyes gave her hope he might actually care.
"Negative."
He deflated. "Oh."
"And on top of that, I got back to my apartment to find it's flooded. All of my work is completely ruined. I'll have to start from scratch. The apartment won't even be livable until Sunday and I have nowhere to stay."
"Can't you just stay with one of your boyfriends?"
It took all her strength not to bristle at his words. "I don't have any boyfriends—and I don't plan on sleeping with a guy just to get a bed."
"What about a hotel?"
Jocelyn's eyes shut tight. "No hotels!" she screamed, taking Callen by surprise.
"All right, Princess," Callen held up his hands. "No hotels."
"I can't stay at either of Kayla's places, and Claire's house is full up. My last option is Dad's."
"That," the agent scoffed, "is a terrible idea. You'd be at each other's throats by sundown. Not to mention the fact that he lives two hours away from the precinct."
"It's my only option."
Callen hesitated. "Not exactly."
No! his inner voice, the conscience to guard his heart, screamed at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You could…stay with me. I mean, I don't have a bed or anything, but I could lend you a bedroll."
Her tears had long stopped; she blinked at him in shock. "You want me to stay at your place? That doesn't sound like a good idea given our…history."
"Not if you promise to behave."
"Me?" Jocelyn replied innocently. "I told you I'd resist kissing you again."
"Hold to that and we'll be fine."
Her green eyes were still glassy from tears, but her face relaxed. "Truly?"
Callen placed a hand on either shoulder. "You know where I live."
"Thank you!" Jocelyn leapt into his arms without thinking. He stiffened under her touch, but patted her back congenially. "You won't regret this!"
She skipped back to her car, leaving Callen to watch her lithe body dance in the waning sunlight. "I already do."