Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Chapter 5


Authors Note: Thank you all for reading and reviewing, all of you! Feel free to review as well. Do I need to repeat that it is going to be a short story only?

Disclaimer: Blah-the-Blah… and of course CBS is owning the series, the original characters and the original storylines. Mine is only this story itself. Enjoy.

Kni®benrots


o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"What can you tell about what happened to you?"

"I lost—a partner. A friend." She started.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Los Angeles || Alhambra Hospital

"Have you found him already?"

Callen frowned and shook his head. "No. Tell me, this was in LA?"

"Yes. Poliakoff, she... they came. Three of them, Alexa - Poliakoff- and two men. And she told Marcus that were assessing all of it. The location. The safety. Whether or not he could..." she looked away and swallowed several times, closed her eyes. Blocking her emotions for him, a stranger. "He was... Marcus never stood a chance."

Callen took his phone. "What's the address?"

"6321 Mayflower Avenue."

He simply sent the info to his office and added to it 'send a coroner and have LAPD block it as a crime-scene'.

Then he looked up again and asked "Marcus has a surname?"

"Andreas, his name is Andreas Marcus," she replied. "Was..." she corrected with a soft sigh.

After he sent the name to the Ops Callen put his phone away. He glanced her way and noticed how much paler she was right now, looking exhausted. Which didn't actually surprise him, after surgery, after what she'd gone through and what she just told him.

"You know, you'd better try to catch some rest."

She blinked a few times and knitted her brows, either because of sadness or because thinking wasn't as sharp as she was used to.

It caused Callen to add "I'll be around the corner, in case Poliakoff shows up."

A soft hum sounded which he took as a approval and so Callen closed the blinds of the window and door and left her alone, thinking she would be asleep soon which would help her heal too. There was much more to her story he wanted to know of.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects || fifteen minutes later

Staring at their screens and listening to everything the colleagues in the field were talking about, Eric finally breathed out more relaxed.

There had been a phone call with Poliakoff and much to their surprise, she had agreed to meet Kensi and Deeks at the boatshed. His only message had been 'Because we received a call from the hospital. There's a serious matter about the patient that was admitted.'

As a matter of fact, it had been all too easy and a relief that she was alright with the request.

Preparing the next steps, Fatima had decided to have a team's brainstorm, all through the mutual phone system.

"I could call off LAPD extra services," Fatima suggested. "I mean, this Poliakoff is cooperative, right?"

Callen let his left hand go through his hair, leaning against a wall near the nurses station. "Sam, what's your thoughts about this?"

His usual partner was silent for a few seconds, then said "We were on our way to you, y'know, in case of… But Roundtree and I could just as well go and have a look at the place your woman in there mentioned as a crime scene. See what the CSI's found in there."

He chuckled softly with Sam's words 'your woman' and shook his head. "Sure, Sam. Great idea, and with that I mean that the two of you check the Mayflower Avenue address. Meanwhile, Fatima and Eric, if there's anything new you find on Andreas Marcus and Elizabeth Sharden, just share it."

He fell silent for a while and said "Man, we could use a few more hands. Perhaps a visit to Poliakoff's office. Also, her car, her house. Possibly her gun, gunshot residue on her clothes, things like that. But we need things done by the book, so we'll need the right paperwork. Fatima, how's Nell involved so far? Is she around? In that case, any chance you can ask Nell if she can arrange that. Or else… an official request through director Vance will do. Oh, and Eric, see if we can check her phone records. I'm sure you can do that without leaving a trace?"

"Also, you need a more extensive interview with Jane in there, Tarzan. So far it's only her word you have, but somehow I don't think that's a lot. Shouldn't somebody else talk to her as well? I mean, she may be a pathetic liar."

Deeks' words weren't spoken in a serious tone, but they left everyone thinking

"Well… So far it's all fluid indeed." Sam said.

"Which could all change in the next half hour," Roundtree argued, pragmatic as ever. "So instead of having this conversation right now, I'd say we all get to work and see where we're heading at."

"Guys," Eric said, looking at his screen after a soft beep told him there was new information available. "About this Andreas Marcus? He's a US Marshal as well. Or actually, well, he was of course. Since he's dead now I think…"

"Stop babbling Beale," Kensi commented. "What about him?"

"As I said, another US Marshall."

Callen understood. "Sharden mentioned him as a friend, a partner. Which means they could've worked together."

"Nothing special, is there? Kensi and I are partners too. And friends," Deeks brought forward.

"I get that Deeks," Callen said. "There's the difference between partner and partner, if you know what I mean."

"Wait, wait," Kensi said. "Put two and two together, two US Marshals share a house and are partners, it could mean they work in witness protection. Which means… Was there someone in that place they were protecting?"

Callen shook his head, not that the others noticed. "But we don't know if Sharden lived in there. She never said she was."

"Then ask her, G," Sam urged. "Unless you want me to come over to ask her."

His partner never replied. Instead he repeated Roundtree's words "I'd say we go to work and keep each other informed, again."

He disconnected and wasn't overall very happy with the next move he was going to make. After all, he allowed the woman a proper rest, and this was less than a cat nap she actually had so far.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Los Angeles || Boatshed

The woman who sat opposite of Deeks and Kensi was as impeccably dressed as their previous assistant director Shay Mosley.

However, this woman was a blonde who was more like Ivanka Trump, and of an unknown age due to too much make-up and too many fillers, Kensi thought. But with the comparison of Ivanka, she also witnessed a touch of slyness like Donald Trump sometimes showed as well.

On their way to the boathouse they decided to hear the woman out in the main room, at the kitchen table, instead of in one of the interrogation rooms.

She bit her lip, then started "So Mrs. Poliakoff, it's a good thing you were able to join us in here. I'm glad our colleague Eric reached you in time."

Deeks turned their way too, offering the requested cup of coffee to their guest and a bottle of water to Kensi. He capped his own bottle and sat down as well. He gulped down some of his water and said "You recognized our Jane Doe. What can you tell us about her?"

Poliakoff took the mug between her hands and blew into the hot beverage as a pause. Then she nodded. "Yes. From the message that entered our systems and those of other agencies I understood that Marshal Sharden had an accident and got hospitalized."

"She still is in the hospital," Kensi answered.

"Is she going to be alright?"

"We don't know yet." Deeks' reply was rather harsh. He was curious how she'd react to that.

Poliakoff tilted her head slightly and all she asked was "How's this related to your agency anyway?"

Nothing of personal interest at all.

Kensi shrugged. "Long story, but never mind. We'll gladly hand it over to you after... it is just... well, I'm curious. Sharden was being followed. Do you know why anyone would do that? Did she have any enemies as far as you know of?"

"No."

The reply was short and came to soon.

"Let me show you what I mean," Kensi said. She took the remote control and rewound it until the footage they had could be shown. "There, that's what I meant."

No emotion showed on the other woman's face yet, still, Kensi had the feeling there was more to ask Poliakoff, but she wasn't sure what.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Los Angeles || Mayflower Avenue || meanwhile

"That bathroom door, you see that?" Sam asked his younger companion.

Roundtree glanced at the senior agent. "One bathrobe. That's what you mean?"

Sam shook his head. "Feel it. It's not one of those cheap things. This one's full metal."

He used his knuckle to tap the walls next to the door. "What I thought indeed."

"A panic room," Devin Roundtree understood. He let his gaze go over the interior of this bathroom which wasn't really different from his own. A medicine cupboard. He opened it with his gloved hands. The usual stuff, perhaps better equipped than millions of others.

There was a small table with clean towels. He lifted them and smiled when he found a loaded gun underneath it. The contents of the drawer of the table wasn't a surprise either. Energy bars and powders next to a small thermos. Two burner phones and extra batteries. Even more rounds for the handgun. If necessary one could survive in the room for a couple of days unless the place was on fire. But one could call for help or make their way out, shooting.

"So it's a safehouse indeed," he concluded, knowing Sam heard him. "And perhaps maybe that theory still stands, this dead Marshal and Callen's woman were in here, protecting a witness. You think Kensi and Deeks should check with this Poliakoff?"

For a moment Sam looked around on the landing. The bathroom, with one bathrobe indeed. Two bedrooms. Both in use. The wardrobe in the master bedroom was in full use. Jeans, boxers, shirts, all neatly folded. Another shelf with sheets and spare bedding. Two sets of Marshal uniforms, coats and jackets and several button down shirts on the hangers, most of them white. Two similar suitcases underneath the hangers. Next to it two pair of polished black man's shoes.

He checked the other bedroom. A chest of drawers in there. Towels. More underwear: white and black boxers and plain white t-shirts. He slowly shook his head. Somehow, things didn't add up.

"Sam?" Roundtree asked again.

"Don't call them yet," Sam replied. He took his phone to call his friend.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Los Angeles || Alhambra Hospital

After Sam's call, Callen and he both concluded there were too many questions left unanswered.

He was about to re-enter the room when his phone buzzed again and so he stepped back. "Yeah, Eric. You got anything new to work with?"

"Well, not really but I thought you would want to know that as far as we found, there's nobody registered as Elizabeth Sharden in the city of Los Angeles, not in the county and nowhere in the state either. So, how come we can't find her, but this Poliakoff let us know she's a US Marshal, and your Elizabeth tells you she knows Poliakoff, even said she was shot by her? Who is she Callen?"

"I'll ask her myself," Callen ended the phone call. He opened the door of the hospital room and let his gaze go over the woman who lie in the bed. So far, she was a mystery to each and everyone.


TBC


It's easier to run

Replacing this pain with something numb

It's so much easier to go

Than face all this pain here all alone

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past

Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have

Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back

And never moving forward so there'd never be a past

If I could change, I would take back the pain.

I would retrace every wrong move that I made.

I would...

[LinkinPark – Easier to Run]