A/N - A little long - the chapters are a little uneven in length. sorry about that. I'm finding it hard to find the right break points. Just count it as a little longer to get you through the weekend. These have been some of my favorite reviews and I'm so grateful.
Kensi wakes up in pain. A dull pain that engulfs the area of her back between her shoulder blades and a very present, sharp pain around her neck that freezes her, makes her eyes go wide and her mouth open, though no sound comes out. Then she hears Angelo's voice in her ear.
Time to get going, Agent Blye. I expect you to be a moving target.
She rolls so that her back isn't leaning on the wall, and winds up on all fours as the next round of pain hits.
If you stay in one place that doesn't give them a fighting chance to find you.
She's filled with contempt for that smooth calm voice talking to her through her pain. She struggles to her feet and her body obeys his instruction in pure self-preservation. She starts walking with no direction. The alley is empty in what she believes is mid-afternoon sun and she starts to recognize buildings from the downtown area.
Good girl.
The next thing she does is take inventory. She checks her pockets, she tries to reach what hurts on her back, and she feels at the necklace they put on her for a way to remove it. She isn't messing with the RDX strips, but not having to walk around the city in a damn shock collar would be an improvement, but she can't find a way to take it off. The only thing she finds is the map that Angelo showed her before they drugged her. At least it's a way to orient herself.
She slows as she reaches a sidewalk, turning and blending into afternoon city foot traffic. She keeps her head down cognizant of cameras that might catch her image, knowing that Eric and Nell are writing algorithms and pouring over video footage. Today she can still blend into the people around her. Her pain is manageable and her look is casual but not out of the norm. Today she is just another ordinary woman in LA.
But Kensi knows how fast it will happen. How quickly the clothes get dirty no matter how hard you try and how your hair gets matted because you have no brush and how the grime shows on your face in no time. When you live on the street it only takes a couple of days before people know you're on the street. Maybe that's a good thing in this case, because once that happens people also stop really seeing you – it makes them uncomfortable so they look away.
But she has some time before that happens and she needs to use it well. She looks around to get her bearings. There are some restaurants in the downtime between lunch and happy hour in LA. She picks one, opens the door and heads for the bar. She does what she does best, she improvises.
"We're closed," she hears a gruff voice offer without looking up at her.
"I'm sorry, I just…."She holds her arm and winces and it gets the man's attention.
"Ma'am, are you ok."
"I don't know what happened," she tells them. "A kid, he just knocked me down and took my purse."
"Should I call the police?" the young man behind the bar asks.
"No, he's long gone, but. Well. I hate to ask, but. .."
"No, please. How can I help?"
"If I could just get some ice for my arm, and maybe a bottle of water. I don't have a way to pay you…" she says, with a hint of desperation.
"No, we're happy to help. He disappears into the back and as soon as he's gone she hops up on the bar rail. She spies the knife that sits by the sliced limes and lemons and she pockets it in her hoodie, knowing that chances are good she'll need a weapon before all of this is over. When he comes back she is back on a stool facing the other way, raising no suspicion.
He brings the manager. They have ice and a bottle of water for her. They give her a place to sit until they open for dinner, and in a few minutes someone brings her out a plate with a salad, fries and a chicken sandwich. She knows she'll need the energy soon enough. She eats the salad and the fries. She wraps the chicken sandwich in a napkin and pockets it when they aren't looking, all the while holding the ice to her arm, which doesn't need it.
She thanks them. She tells them she'll tell all her friends about their kindness, and that her husband will run by with a tip. They tell her it's unnecessary. She uses their restroom and asks for another bottle of water and disappears. That should buy her a day or two.
When she gets back outside she looks up and down the busy street. She doesn't understand the game Angelo is playing, but the idea of having a limb blown off is pretty horrible, so she decides to play by his rules until she has more information. She needs time to think, and needs to stay off NCIS OSP's radar until she has a plan. Kensi needs to be invisible. If she's invisible the team won't find her. If the team finds her someone will die.
Wolf. Wolves hunt in packs. She didn't say Lion, which would have kept them away. She wrote wolf on her hand, telling them she needed assistance. She told them she needed their help, and now they will move heaven and earth to find her and she is leading them to danger. She's angry at herself for so easily being used as bait in Angelo's game. She'll to do anything necessary to keep them safe.
But right now, she needs a plan. She's on her own, no place to go, no place to sleep, no money, no resources, a paring knife as her only weapons, and being tracked by a madman whispering in her ear.
()()()()()()
The next morning is the first time NCIS gets any movement on the case. Ops uses Kaleidoscope and cameras and every piece of information at their disposal until they find Tinordi. Kensi's been gone thirty two hours when they track him to an extended stay hotel, and Callen, Sam and Deeks approach the room. Timing is everything. He is making his way to his car right as they move in, and what could have been a particularly dangerous takedown for NCIS goes better than they imagined, because they take him alive.
They secure him at the boatshed and all meet on the video screens to catch up where they are. Granger got the list of disavowed or dismissed agents over the last ten years, just to be safe. There aren't that many, so that's good news. They highlight pictures of the five they know, and show another slate of headshots for the other eleven who are still alive. Seven of them can be located wherever they were incarcerated or secured, their transgressions leading to prison time.
That leaves them four persons of interest to track down.
There were two sightings of Kensi overnight, too, and everyone feels a little better to have tangible proof that she is alive somewhere in the city. Both sightings were downtown. She's doing a good job at staying off camera, but every once in a while she passes a corner with surveillance and they catch a glimpse of her.
It also creates more questions than it does answers. If she's not being held somewhere, why haven't they heard from her? If she is trying to stay away from the team, why is she still hanging around in downtown LA. If she's sick, why isn't she getting help? They know whatever game Angelo is playing is dangerous, for her and for them. They all feel the urgency, racing against the clock to figure out the end game before it's too late.
They question Tinordi at the boatshed. Callen doesn't give Deeks any alone time with him, worried that they'll have a dead suspect. It's probably safer, but the anxiety inside him is building and looking for an outlet.
Sam and Callen lay out what they know, leaving some holes as to not put all their cards on the table. They have a million questions, and the person across the table is a trained agent. It makes it hard to play chicken – this guy knows the tricks.
"So is there a bar where disgraced NCIS agents go to meet up? Have some drinks? Sooth your pain from loss of identity."
"There is, actually. They give you a blue jacket and membership card when they take your badge and your gun," Tinordi says sarcastically.
"And how exactly did you earn your membership?"
Tinordi tells them there was a difference of opinion. He doesn't say he's innocent, just that his moral compass was a little more flexible than only pointing at NCIS's magnetic north, and in the end it wasn't appreciated. That's his fancy way to say he took a lot of money from an arms dealer they took down, and believes maybe an agent who puts his life on the line should be compensated more on commission than salary. Why should the bad guys get all the cool houses and toys?
"So what's your connection to Agent Blye."
"None." There isn't an ounce of hesitation in his voice when he says it. He's telling the truth.
"So why go after her?"
"We all have people from our past who could have helped us, could have covered for us, could have stuck by us. We decided that maybe we should help some of those people revisit those choices; make them regret their decisions."
"And you came after Kensi?"
"No. Angelo has it in for the legend, Henrietta Lange. Blye isn't the target. She's the arrow."
"How many of you are there?"
"Fewer than when we started, but enough to finish the job."
"What have you done to her?"
"Whatever it took to set the game in motion."
"What's the plan?"
"It's simple," Tinordi explains. "We're going to see what you all are willing to do to save her. We're going to see what it will cost Hetty and if she can live with the price. And just when you think you've won, when you think she's safe, if you get that far in the game, I promise you you'll lose her all over again. Hetty plays games with everyone. You had to assume sooner or later it would get one of you killed."
"Where is Angelo?"
"He's everywhere."
"Not metaphysically," Callen says sarcastically. "His actual physical location."
"You won't find him until he's done with the game."
None of the other questions get answered. Tinordi won't say how Kensi is being forced to comply. He won't say what toxin she was giving. He won't say how they are tracking her. He won't say where Angelo is. It's frustrating and exasperating, and after a few hours they call it a night, no closer to getting Kensi back.
"We can help with prison time if you help us get Kensi back safely," Callen tells him.
The man laughs at Sam and Callen. "I'm in a prison now. A prison of NCIS's making. Do you think after being an agent you just slide into a normal life? Get a 9-5 and everything is fine. Our lives now are a prison and NCIS did that to us. I'm happy to trade jail time for payback."
Deeks is pacing in the main room when Hetty enters the boatshed, and he doesn't even try to hide his aggravation at her. He rolls his eyes and moves over to the window, thinking of a hundred times he saw Kensi stand in the exact spot he's in now and wondering where she is tonight.
He doesn't know if he's hoping Hetty ignores him or engages him. She's waiting for Callen and Sam to finish so she can get an update. She feels the anger radiating off Deeks and opens the pressure valve, letting it all come out.
"Do you have something you want to say to me, Mr. Deeks?"
He shakes his head and laughs cynically, the formality of her greeting indicating a respect that he's not sure she really has for anyone.
"Why did you do it?" he asks her.
"Do what, Mr. Deeks."
"When we had Angelo in custody. Why did you want Kensi and me to be the ones who interrogated him? Kensi asked you but you never really answered her. Of course, you never really answer direct questions, do you?"
"It made the most sense. You had the most in common with him. You'd be the most likely to connect. "Her tone is matter-of-fact. Her answer is vague. Classic Hetty.
"It was a game to you. You thought maybe he'd be, what? A cautionary tale?"
"I thought if he'd fallen for Olivia than you and Ms. Blye might be the best to understand his mindset."
And there it is. She did it drive a wedge between them. She swung the hammer and let Angelo drive doubt into their minds. It only delayed the inevitable, but time is a resource you can't recoup.
"Oh, come on, Hetty. You realized Kensi and I were getting close and you didn't like it. We worked too well as partners for you to want to break us up, so you thought maybe if you let him play mind games with us it would sow some seeds of doubt. You used all of us like a pieces on a chess board."
"If the two of you were considering what it meant to be more than work partners all I did was give you enough insight to make an informed decision, which it appears you made," she tells him.
"You put her in his sights, Hetty. You did that. You made him think he had special insight, a special connection. And then you let him walk that night, because having people owe you favors is all that matters to you. And then he came for her. You knew he was dangerous. You knew he almost got people on the team killed that day, and you just let him walk away."
"We'll find her, Mr. Deeks."
"And if we don't? Just another piece you've sacrificed along the way?"
"I care very deeply for Ms. Blye. I have every intention of bringing her home safely."
"Well you know what they say about the road to hell."
"And what's that, Mr. Deeks."
"That it's paved with good intentions and probably lined with the bodies that don't fit in your closet."