"That has to be the best looking hospital gown I've ever seen." Callen kissed Kensi on the cheek. "Next time I get injured, I want to come here." Although he wasn't sure red satin was exactly the right look for him. Maybe something in a teal blue would be better?

Kensi smiled radiantly and then pointed at Deeks. "Him."

"I kind of bought some stuff in the gift shop." Okay, he'd just about maxed out his credit card, but who cared? And hospital gowns sucked, everybody knew that. Which was why he'd tended to avoid wearing anything when he'd been shot, a decision Deeks had deeply regretted when Hetty came to visit and he had the very definite impression that she knew exactly what he was not wearing. That red satin night-thing was an inspired choice though, because Kensi looked great in red. Of course, she looked equally good in nothing at all… and Deeks realised that his mind was going round in circles. Too little sleep and too much coffee would do that to you.

"Why can't you use the same taste when selecting your own clothing?" Sam really wanted to know the answer to that question. Who wore plaid in LA? Apart from Deeks and wannabe country stars, of course. For a moment he had a mental image of Deeks in a cowboy hat, boots and chaps, but quickly dismissed that as being ridiculous.

"And this coming from a man whose garment of choice is a muscle shirt?" Sometimes it seemed that there was no justice in the world. If it wasn't red, black or dark brown and tight-fitting enough to show off his muscles, then Sam didn't wear it. Deeks wondered what he would do if Lycra and Spandex were suddenly declared illegal.

"You're looking good, Kensi. More like yourself." Callen was glad to see her hair was finally free of all the blood, but hearing her speaking, albeit with some hesitancy, was better than he could ever have imagined.

Kensi smiled back and saw where he was looking. She gestured first to her hair, which was slightly damp and starting to curl in the warmth of the hospital room, and then to Deeks.

"Yeah, I thought you'd feel better if your hair was washed." Deeks found himself staring at her, and wishing he could sit down beside her and run his fingers through her incredible hair. Why was it so hard to keep his mind on track this morning? He seemed to have sex on the brain for some strange reason. "So I had a word with Sandy out there."

Not that long ago Deeks would have been using all his charm to get the nurse's number as well and Sandy had seemed rather crestfallen when he'd not even made a token attempt at flirting with her. But Deeks wasn't entirely daft: he knew when he was onto a good thing, and besides which, Kensi's room was only a few feet away and she had ears like… well, like an animal with very good hearing. Plus, Kensi had always seemed to have some sort of sixth sense as far as he was concerned.

"Bettah," Kensi agreed. She was still getting used to this strange new voice of hers, this alien voice that could only manage to form single words at the moment. Some sounds were still out of reach, but it was a start. At least she could begin to communicate again. Feeling the warm water washing away all the dried blood had been wonderful, even if the nurse had to be careful to keep the incision from the probe and the staples holding the gash in her scalp together clean and dry. But the probe was out now, the wound was looking good and her hair was clean. All in all, Kensi was feeling almost human again. This afternoon, a speech therapist would come by to do an assessment and start her on some vocal exercises and then tomorrow… tomorrow she was going home, come hell or high water.

"You gave us a fright." Sam was prowling around the room.

"Sorry." It was slightly slurred, but they all understood her, which was the main thing. She could sweat over the small details later on.

"You should be. Just don't do it again, okay?" He reached out and took hold of her hand just to make sure she understood just what a shock she'd given everyone.

"Yes." That was fine by her. This wasn't exactly in Kensi's all-time list of experiences to be repeated. This one time would do her just fine.

Deeks grinned at her. "Listen, we've got to go on over to the Mission before Vance sends out an APB for us. We've got the dubious pleasure of being summoned to appear before his virtual image. And no, we don't know why. Shall I tell him you send your love?"

"No." If she hadn't been using all her pillows, Kensi would have thrown one at him.

"See you later, sweetheart."

"Eric?" Callen was speaking into his phone as they made their way back to the parking lot. "You can tell Vance we're on our way back now. And we've got Deeks with us. But first, you can tell us what the hell's happened to Hetty."

"I wish I could, Callen. Not over these channels though, okay? She's okay, don't worry. I'll brief you fully."

"Eric? Don't do this to me." But Callen found he was talking to a dead connection. "Okay, now I know I should be worried. Hetty is fine, but Eric can't say any more."

"Can't say, or won't say?"

"Does it really matter, Sam? He's not talking over the phone, and that's all there is to it." Callen's face was set into a mask of grim determination as he strode towards the car.

"So far, this year is really kind of shitty, isn't it?" It was only two days in and things were getting worse by the hour as far as Deeks could make out.

For once, Sam had to admit that Deeks had summed up the situation perfectly, and remarkably succinctly into the bargain. He should probably note this date down in his diary, for it wasn't likely to happen again in his lifetime. Of course, this was a leap year, which might account for it. And the world was supposed to end in 2012, which was a much more likely explanation.

"Director Vance? We seem to be missing our Operations Manager. You wouldn't happen know her current whereabouts, would you?" Callen launched straight into full confrontational mode when the Director appeared on the view screen. He was not inclined to be diplomatic, or even tactful. There had been too many attempts at petty displays of power landed upon the LA office in recent months. Hetty had warned them that her position was not secure and now all the signs were that Vance had managed to depose her. Well, their esteemed Director had better watch out, because he might just have started a revolution. Or maybe even a coup d'etat.

"Miss Lang is currently on leave, Agent Callen."

"Gone to the islands to catch some waves?" Deeks asked innocently.

Vance ignored him. "Administrative leave."

"What?" Callen took a step towards the screen. He knew what that was a euphemism for: sent home with her tail between her legs. Ordered to leave the Mission until told otherwise, but still on full pay, pending a formal decision.

"It was my decision, and mine alone, Agent Callen." Vance waited for another interjection, and when none came he appeared to be mildly disappointed.

Callen was not fazed by long silences; on the contrary he was perfectly content to let the uncomfortable pause hang in the air and watch as Vance grew more uncomfortable by the second. It was obvious that it had been a long time since Vance had worked in an interrogation room, breaking down a suspect by whatever means worked. In Callen's experience, long silences disturbed people, discomfited them to the extent that they began to talk simply to try to regain some semblance of control. Vance was no exception.

"She formally declared a conflict of interest that rendered her current position incompatible with the operational requirements of this office."

"We closed the Foley case last night," Sam informed him.

"I'm aware of that, Agent Hanna. I was referring to your new assignment, which is investigating the death of Royston Schiff."

Deeks had been leaning languidly against the table, but he jerked upright at that. "That's a familiar name." He just couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before.

"It should be. He was a member of the 2nd Marine Regiment. Recently returned to Camp Lejeune after deployment in Afghanistan." Leon Vance sat back and waited for the pieces to fall into place.

"As in that video?" Callen knew investigations were already being carried out at the highest levels, both within the Pentagon and the Department of Defence, as the situation had the potential to spiral out of control. Already it was an international incident and NCIS teams were involved. Was this Vance's circuitous way on informing them they were going to Kabul?

"The very same. I'm glad to see you keep up with current affairs."

"Yeah, well sometimes I switch over to CNN during the breaks in the football." Hetty might be sneaky, Deeks thought, but at least she didn't engage in pointless games of cat and mouse like the Director. He knew that Vance didn't like him and the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Several other Marines have named Schiff as the person they thought had posted the video in question onto LiveLeaks."

Sam thought it was interesting that Leon Vance couldn't bring himself to actually give any details of what the Marines were accused of. "That would be the video showing the alleged abuse of dead Taliaban fighters?"

"Four US Marines caught on camera pissing on a corpse? Technically, that would be desecration of a foreign insurgent," Deeks mused and had the satisfaction of seeing Leon's mouth twitch in anger, so that the toothpick was almost dislodged. "I was just saying." He was also the picture of aggrieved innocence.

He tried, but Callen could not quite repress his joy at this statement. "You can take the boy away from the law, but you can't take the law out of the boy. Once a lawyer, always a lawyer, eh Deeks?"

It was worthwhile reminding Leon Vance that they weren't exactly wet behind the ears when it came to this business, no matter what he might think. Trying not to smile too broadly, Callen addressed the Director once again. "So where exactly do we come in? At this late stage…" It was over a week since news had broken and it was only now that Vance decided they were essential to the case? Something smelt decidedly rotten in the state of California.

"Schiff hanged himself. You are to investigate if that was suicide or if there was collusion. Or if he was murdered." Leon nodded towards Nell, who pulled up the scene of crime photos.

"Did he jump, or was he pushed?" There didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle that Deeks could see from the evidence photographs.

Deeks was certainly pushing it for all he was worth, Callen thought. Maybe pushing it a bit too far though. He frowned slightly in his direction, warning him to tone it down a bit.

"If you want to take it right back to the bare bones, Detective, then yes. It might be an over-simplistic assessment of the situation, but essentially that's the gist of it." Leon discovered he had bitten right through the toothpick and that he had left his spare supply back in his office, which did not sweeten his temper any.

"I like to get the facts straight. When there are facts. Is there any objective evidence to suggest this was anything other than what it seems? Any medical evidence? Any witnesses?" Vance had a reason for putting their team onto this operation and Deeks was determined to discover what that reason was. No more than Callen or Sam did he enjoy working in the dark while some far-distant puppet master pulled the strings.

"The autopsy is being carried out back here in Washington. And there is an allegation that it was not suicide, made by what we can only regard as a credible source: Marine Sergeant David Gillander."

Once again, Nell cued up the file photographs. She and Eric had pored over them for what seemed like hours, trying to trace any familial resemblance between the Sergeant and Hetty.

So far, so good. But one thing was still troubling Sam. "And how does Hetty fit into all this? Where's her conflict of interest?"

It might have just been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn there was an unholy gleam of joy in Vance's eyes. "Ms Lang had to excuse herself from this case, due to a conflict of interest that may have compromised her neutrality."

"Hetty?" Now the fire was blazing in Callen's eyes. "How can you suggest that Hetty would ever be anything but impartial?" It was tantamount to accusing her of treason.

"Because David Gillander is her son, Agent Callen."

The silence that descended was thick and palpable, a veritable miasma that seemed to surround them in an unpleasant, accusatory mist, obscuring what had once been clear and unambiguous.

"We'll take the case." Not that they had actually been given a choice, but Sam wanted to make it clear that the team were not just going to roll over and put their legs up into the air. Vance might be telling them to jump, but there was no way they were going to ask 'how high'? Rather, the essential question right now was 'why'? And if there was an answer to that question, then they would find it.

"I'm sending the files to the shared drive." Nell was staying as crisply professional as she could, while Eric had virtually disappeared into the background. His track record with authority figures was not exactly stellar at the best of times and today was one of these occasions where you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

"I'd like a word with you, Agent Callen. Alone." Vance stared directly ahead, not bothering to even pretend to indulge in any of the conventional niceties, but just watching as everyone else filed out of the room.

"Has anyone ever heard Vance say 'please' or 'thank you'?" Deeks waited until they were safely downstairs before asking that. He turned to his desk and started rummaging in the drawers.

"Now you're just being ridiculous." Sam turned to Eric. "This is what you were being so cryptic about earlier on?"

"It's Hetty's business. Her private business. I didn't want to go broadcasting it around the place. Vance didn't give her a chance – he put her on administrative leave immediately." They all knew what that meant: full pay, but under a cloud of suspicion. Somewhere, someone was carrying out a detailed background check into Miss Henrietta Lang.

"Vance knew." Nell was certain of that. "He set up a trap and Hetty knew she had no choice but to walk straight into it. THere's no mention of any child on her file."

Nobody was crass enough to ask how Nell was in possession of that information. Personnel files were not within her level of access – her official level of access, that was.

"Do you reckon Callen knew?" If anyone could be said to be close to Hetty, than Callen fitted that description, even if it was a slightly uncomfortable fit. Hetty didn't let anyone get close to her, she seemed to erect a wall around herself and to repell all possible invaders when they came within a hundred yards.

"Maybe that's what Vance is trying to find out?"

"Maybe." Deeks sat down, pulled out his pen and signed his signature with a flourish at the bottom of his pre-approved application form. "Can you do me a favour, Nell? Get these over to Personnel as soon as possible." It had been a long time coming, but finally it was the right time to consolidate his position within NCIS and to break the last remaining tie with LAPD. Now he was officially an agent, Vance would find it a sight more difficult to get rid of Deeks on the pretence of some urgent under-cover just a little bit of luck, Louise would find her services were no longer required - at least, he hoped so.

Sam could not have been farther from the truth when he had wondered if the Director was picking Callen's brains. Leon Vance had absolutely no interest in what degree of knowledge Callen might hypothetically possess about his boss: as far as he was concerned, the issue of Hetty Lang was already dealt with. The woman had been a particularly vexatious thorn in his flesh for far too long and he was jubilant that she had provided him with the necessary ammunition to remove her from the Mission. What was currently a temporary situation could become permanent without too much effort.

"We find ourselves in an unfortunate situation, Agent Callen."

"Do we?" Callen asked, as politely as possible.

"We do. What with Miss Lang's unfortunate predicament."

"You're bringing Agent Hunter back?" Please God, not her. If Vance was not to be trusted, Hunter was a thousand times worse. The woman seemed to operate on a system of disinformation as a matter of routine and had raised power-play to a fine art – which was great, if you liked the black arts.

"No, unfortunately she is not available."

Thank heavens for small mercies, Callen thought. "How sad," he remarked and somehow managed to keep a straight face as he said that.

"Which leaves me with a dilemma."

Once again, Leon Vance paused, tacitly inviting Callen to comment. And once again, Callen managed to resist the temptation. It was a classic technique: once you found your opponents weakness, you then exploited it to the maximum. Strange, because he would have expected Vance to be well aware of that. However, in any display of one-upmanship, you had to take whatever opportunity presented itself and Callen had no qualms in remaining silent

Finally, Vance broke the impasse. "Which is why I'm appointing you Operations Manager of OSP. Pro-tem, of course."

"Of course," Callen said politely. "So are you telling me, or asking me?"

And please welcome back devious plot bunny! It's been a while since he came out of the burrow and he's a little bit shy at all this attention, so please treat him gently.