Sam was besieged the moment he got back to his desk by Deeks. "You have to tell us what happened Sam. Pretty, pretty please," he begged. "I'll get you coffee for a month."

Sam sat down at his desk, opened the laptop but and didn't say a word.

Rubbing a hand over his chin, Deeks up the ante. "Ok, not enough. Ah how about I have the Challenger washed and waxed once a month for a year."

Sam paused a second as if to consider that offer. "Are you going to take her to a professional or do it yourself?"

Deeks desperately tried to read Sam's face to determine the correct answer. "I will wash..." Sam frowned. "...take it to a professional," Deeks finished with a lame smile.

"Her, not it. I don't want you marring HER finish with your improper technique," Sam gruffly explained.

"Ya do know it's just a car, Sam." As the muscular agent started to menacingly rise from his seat, Deeks quickly added. "Just saying."

Sam sat back down, deciding it wasn't worth the effort to try to beat some sense in to Deeks. "Not enough. The pleasure I'll get watching you pathetically stew, trying to put together the pieces of what happened last night is way better. And I know you won't get any info out of Callen or Hetty." Sam tapped on his keyboard and brought up a file. "Especially not after what they did."

Deeks whined like a kid whose favorite toy was taken away. "Owww come on. That is so not fair!"

"Deeks. Stop begging. It is degrading," Kensi advised joining in the conversation.

Deeks slid over to Kensi's desk lowering his voice. "You are dying to know as much as me. Help me out. What will it take to get him to spill the beans?"

Kensi leaned back in her chair and studied Sam, who ignored her and kept typing on the keyboard. "Ok. You offered coffee and car so far. Add lunch, paperwork for a month and finding whatever his daughter wants for Christmas this year and that should seal the deal," she smugly advised.

"Geez Kensi! Whose side are you on partner," he asked stressing the last word. "That is a lot. Can the story be worth it?"

Kensi raised her eyebrows suggestively and shrugged. "Remember the cowboy bar, tequila, mechanical bull and Hetty? You never got them to tell you that story did you?" She lowered her voice. "I'm guessing this one is even better."

Deeks rolled his eyes and walked back over to Sam's desk. "Ok. Car professionally washed once a month for a year. Coffee, lunch and paperwork for one month. And find your kid's Christmas present this year, but you're pay for it."

"Are you saying you don't want to buy my baby-girl a present?" Sam asked in a mock-serious tone.

Deeks narrowed his eyes. "Ah no. I mean yes."

Sam stared at Deeks until he started to sweat then gave him his famous mega-watt smile. "Deal."

Grabbing a nearby chair, Deeks quickly ponied-up to the side of Sam's desk. "Do tell!"

"Here? Now?" Sam shook his head no. "Not appropriate. Besides we need some hair of the dog to tell this tale. Friday night. After work. Calypso bar and grill. You're paying. For everyone."

At that moment Callen limped back into the bullpen, disheveled and carrying an ice pack. Gingerly, he lowered himself into his desk chair letting out an audible sigh.

"What happened to you Callen?" Kensi quizzed. "You look worse now, than when you arrived this morning."

The blond man didn't answer. Instead, he placed the ice pack over his cheek and eye, propped up his head on his desk with his free hand and stared into space.

"I can tell you what happened Kensi," Sam said rising from his desk and walking around to lean against the front of Deeks' desk. He folded his arms across his broad chest and stared down at his suffering partner. "He dissed Hetty. Pissed her off. Brought the trouble on, just like he did last night."

Callen slumped down further in his chair looking miserable and shifting his gaze to stare at a piece of paper on his desk.

"Wise-ass remarks. Refusal to do what she asked. What else did you do to tick her off G in the locker room?" Sam pointedly asked.

"I may have questioned her heritage," he mumbled without raising his eyes.

Sam dug harder. "Nah. That's already covered under wise-ass remarks. What else?"

Callen rubbed his thumb across his first and second finger like he did he was trying to think of a way out of a situation. "When she walked in the locker room, she may have noticed the blood on the Armani jacket hanging in there."

"And..." Sam prompted watching G continue to rub his fingers together indicating he was not done yet.

"And I may have bleed on the pant suit she was wearing," he concluded wearily.

Kensi gasped and the men looked horrified.

"Hetty's mustard colored pant suit and the Armani jacket from wardrobe!" Kensi repeated. "And you're still standing?"

Giving a sideways glance at Kensi he responded. "Barely."

Kensi face switched from incredulous to puzzlement. "Why was the Armani jacket in the locker room?"

"It's been in there for about a week," Deeks helpfully supplied.

Callen went to lean back in his chair, and then thought better of it. "I recently, ah, found it and noticed it was wrinkled. I was hoping the steam from the showers would help smooth it out. Read that tip online," he added after Kensi gave him an odd look.

"But there was no blood on that jacket when I left," Sam probed knowing his partner had not presented them with the whole tale yet.

Kensi ignored Sam for the moment and moved on to part two of Callen's transgressions. "How did you get blood on Hetty's clothes?"

"I swear," Callen said lowering the ice pack. "She used a dull plastic spoon to dig the glass out of my back. Without any lidocaine."

Sam laughed out loud. "I'll bet when she told you the lidocaine was administered via needle you told her no."

Callen frowned at his partner. "They make a cream, Sam. I researched it. She refuses to buy it and always has to use a needle just to torture me."

"The blood. On Hetty. How did it get there?" Kensi reminded Callen, trying to steer him back on target.

"I'd say he was trying to escape and she tackled him," Sam guessed and the frown on his partner face told him he wasn't too far wrong.

Tightening his jaw, Callen stared up at the ceiling. "She started digging around in the first cut with that damn dull spoon. It hurt. I tried to get up and leave but she stopped me by grabbing the back of my jeans. The floor was slippery and I lost my balance."

"And fell backwards on Hetty," Sam concluded.

"Yep. After that she made me lay face down, sat on my butt and then did her butchery. She threatened to handcuff me," he said sounding shocked at the mere thought even though it wasn't the first time she'd used that threat on him and probably wouldn't be the last.

"Again," Sam chimed in and Callen gave him a dirty look. "Turnabout is fair play G."

Deeks thought about the conversation for a minute. "You said that Hetty saw the blood on the Armani suit jacket as she entered the room. But Sam said there was no blood on it when he left. Something doesn't add up."

"Good detective work there Deeks," Sam complemented him though the look Callen gave Deeks was anything but complementary.

Sam cajoled his partner into speaking. "If you don't tell us we'll just ask Hetty."

Sighing, Callen fiddled with the ice pack on his desk. "After you left I decided to patch myself up."

Sam gave him a puzzled look. "How did you plan to reach the glass in your back?"

"Face," Callen corrected. "Clean off the cut on my face. I knew you kept a bottle of that stuff in your locker."

Sam thought for a moment then looked quizzically at the man. "The hydrogen peroxide?"

"If anyone cares, they don't recommend using that anymore to clean wounds," Deeks interjected.

"Shut up," Kensi told her partner.

Sam picked up the conversational thread. "Yeah. I use it on my cuts. But it stings ya know."

"I do now," Callen answered sarcastically. "I took the bottle from your locker and put some on this cut," he said removing the ice pack and indicating the one under his eye. "It started to fizz and sting and I grabbed the first thing I could reach to wipe it off."

"The Armani suit jacket from wardrobe," Deeks said with a touch of awe in his voice.

"Technically just the sleeve, but..." Callen's voice drifted off.

The three agents stared at Callen in stunned silence. At that moment, Hetty walked by on the way to her office and saw her injured agent playing with the ice pack his the desk. "That is supposed to be on your face, Mr. Callen," she reminded him. "Ten on, ten off." Callen dutifully raised it to the proper place. "See, you can teach stubborn dogs new tricks," she said to no one in particular as she climbed the few stairs to her desk.

When she was out of sight, Callen lowered the pack and glanced over at Sam. "So what did you get out of Deeks if you to tell him the story of last night?"

Deeks looked stunned and Kensi whispered, "It's a partner thing," in his ear.

Pushing off Deeks' desk, Sam returned to his own chair. "Nothing for you. Well, except for a burger and a beer."

"Where?" Callen asked suspiciously.

Sam smiled. "Relax. Calypso. Nothing dangerous there."

Kensi went back to her typing as Deeks drifted back to his desk; but his face showed he was still muddling over something. After sitting, he stared over at Callen.

"What Deeks?" Callen asked figuring he mind-as-well get it over with or Deeks would hem and haw around all night.

"Why are you limping? You weren't when you came in today."

Kensi looked over at Callen with interest, waiting to hear his answer; it was a good observation.

A huge knowing grin spread across Sam's face bringing out his dimple.

Callen saw the expression on Sam's face. "Why don't you tell them Sam since you obviously know what goes on behind closed doors," Callen requested crossing his arms across his chest.

Sam continued with his ear-to-ear smile. "I don't have to be able to see behind the closed doors because I know you to well G. Hetty gave you a shot in your derrière. What this time?"

"Tetanus," the agent muttered grudgingly.

Deeks cocked his head at Sam. "Isn't that normally given in the arm?"

"There is nothing normal about G Callen," Sam concluded bring the conversation to an end. All the agents put their heads down and went back to work except Callen, who had lowered the ice pack again.

"Ten on, ten off," the strident voice of the Ops manager drifted thru the bullpen. "Don't make me come in there, Mr. Callen."

Callen sighed and placed it back on his face and remembered the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. 'Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.'