Author's Note: Hello everyone! And welcome back to my mad, mad world! Thanks for reading and reviewing!
I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, but I wrote a few chapters in advance, in the hope to finally wrap up the package! Because I intend to leave this story finished!
Okay, so for the computer-stuff. I mentioned before that I have no clue about that, and for the sake of the plot, I hope you overlook that it might be very farfetched about the hacker, but… it's not my main focus, so I hope you are so kind to look past it, and rather focus on the story itself. Computer-people out there, I apologize, just in case!
Anyways, I hope you'll like it.
Read, review, and hopefully enjoy ;)
"Ah, the party boy is back!" Sam greets Marty as he comes into the office. After the confessions from yesterday, he really needs to talk to his colleagues to discuss the next steps… and the newest news. At some point he still can't believe it.
"I hope you didn't overdo it. We need you sharp on the case," Callen winks at him, taking a sip from his coffee.
"I didn't touch a drop, I'm not that stupid," Deeks replies. "But I bring… news."
"What news?" Sam frowns.
"Uhm, as it turns out… Adrian is homosexual," Deeks begins, to which Callen replies with a grimace, "Well, okay, how is that vital to the case? I don't really mind sexual orientations when it comes to suspects, or people in general?"
"He was in a relationship with someone in the orchestra," Deeks goes on.
"Aha," Sam frowns.
"That relationship was… Mike," Marty then says, to which all gape, "What?!"
"That guy was married," Sam argues. "To a woman."
"Adrian confessed to me yesterday that he's had an affair with him," Deeks shrugs.
"No way, man," Sam shakes his head.
"Why would Adrian lie about that, you tell me?" Deeks huffs.
"But… that's just outrageous," Sam argues.
"I was surprised, too, but think about it. Then the picture in his violin case makes sense. He kept it there in his memory. That would also explain his self-harm tendencies, and his hostility," Deeks argues.
"And it would give him a nice motive other than wanting to become first violin," Callen agrees, but that makes Marty almost jump, "Did you listen to only just a word I said? I said he was in love with him. They were secret lovers. Why would he kill that one guy he cares about?"
"Two options are possible. First of all, he might have imagined things," Callen shrugs.
"He said they had an affair, not just some lusty glancing or whatever. It was an affair, with… all the extras," Deeks argues.
"Well, if it is so, then it might still be option two, Gallagher decided against him eventually, to return to his wife, and Carson couldn't take it, so he decided to murder him," Callen goes on rather casually. Deeks knows that he is the only one having emotional attachments at this point because he knows the people, so it stands to reason that Callen acts that way, but sometimes he could strangle him for always being that cool about most matters.
"You really think someone goes that far just coz he dumped him?" Deeks retorts.
"He has suicidal tendencies, which does not necessarily speak for a healthy psyche," Callen argues.
"Also taking into account that he comes from an abused background…," Sam adds, his voice trailing off. Deeks narrows his eyes at him angrily, "Seriously?"
"Deeks, with all my sympathy for you, just because you don't like it, we can't exclude that variable from the equation," Sam argues, and his partner agrees, "We don't mean to say that anyone from such a background turns out a murderer or bad person. You are the living counter-example, but… not all people are like you."
"Right, some people… don't get out of the loop of violence or… walk away not as psychologically stable," Callen nods. They all know that this is a touchy topic, to say the least. And as much as they'd all love it to be different, there are just people who don't manage what Deeks did – stay clean, stay a good person, and not repeat the mistakes of the parents.
"But Adrian isn't like that," Deeks insists.
"That can't be the only argument, Deeks, and you know it. As much as it sucks, we need valid evidence, and your personal opinion of Carson does not account as such," Callen argues.
"Why would he come clean to me about his affair?" Deeks replies.
"He considers you his friend, and as his friend, he told you. And I guess you also pushed him," G shrugs.
"Well, I caught him making out with the guy from the café, and that lead to the other admissions, once I poked a little," Deeks admits, to which Callen questions with a grimace, "From the café?"
"What? Yes, why?" Deeks tilts his head at him. How is that relevant now?
"Well, let's think back to when you got poisoned. You didn't think Adrian spiked your drink because you would have caught that," Callen explains, and Deeks nods, "Right."
"What if he asked his friend from the café to put the poison into the drink? That would have been much easier to do without your notice," Callen goes on.
"Right," Kensi agrees.
"What? No!" Deeks cries out, but then lowers his voice. "I mean… shit, yeah."
As much as he hates it, but Callen really has a point. That would be far easier to do than change the bottle when he and Adrian were having conversation.
"And anyways, what makes me question him a bit is that you say you caught him… with this friend. And that only a short while after his lover died?" Sam goes on.
"He's seeking comfort," Deeks shrugs. He honestly understands that. It sucks to be alone. And feeling close to a person, be it only holding hands, or a kiss on the cheek… it can heal a lot more wounds than some people may think.
"Or he was using Gallagher. He got close to him, then he killed him once Gallagher didn't question him anymore, hoping to be made first violin, or just to get rid of him, whatever… and now Carson is back to his usual routine, so more like… a black widow," Sam shrugs.
"That is nuts," Deeks shakes his head.
"Just as nuts as is your theory," Sam argues.
"I don't even have a theory," Deeks replies.
"Exactly," Sam nods. He has no theory. And that is the problem.
"Does it really boil down to us agreeing on that we don't agree?" Deeks sighs. He doesn't want to fight with his colleagues. He knows they don't mean it in a bad way. They are just being… well, agents. And that means they go for any theory. As a detective, he should be glad for the new perspectives, but as Deeks himself… he hates it that they are right.
"I guess for the love of peace, yeah, for now," Sam shrugs, to which Deeks grimaces. He runs a hand over his face before he goes on in a more casual tone, "What did you find out?"
Callen hands him a folder. Deeks eyes it curiously.
"Even though we don't believe in her as a suspect, we thought we'd act upon your request and dig into her case a little more," Callen explains. Deeks nods appreciatively, "Thanks."
He skims through the pages.
"Oh, the poor girl," Deeks hisses. Kensi steps closer to him to peek over his shoulder, "What is it?"
"Her brother, Danny, he died in a car accident when still a teenager. She was with him in the car, the poor dear," Deeks explains.
"Oh," Kensi tilts her head to look at the file. "He looks a bit like you, don't you think?"
"Fern, that's creepy to say," the detective pouts.
"What? You do look alike," Kensi insists.
"I am an original," Deeks replies sarcastically, though he honestly doesn't like it to be compared to dead people. He thinks it's a bad omen.
"So? Do you think now that she was it after all?" Callen asks cautiously, to which Deeks replies, "Her brother's death might explain her… behavior, but I actually want to step down from Susanne as a suspect, mostly."
"Why?" Sam frowns. He insisted on that so much till last.
"Katy mentioned to me during the bar night that Susanne ripped her dress short before the show, so both spent the time before the concert in the bathrooms trying to fix it. I don't know the time-frame, but if it is true, she actually might have an alibi," Deeks explains.
"I see," Sam nods.
"And… I don't know, she seems to be simply very introverted. I may have seen things, I don't know," Deeks shrugs.
"Well, Smith remains a mystery. We only know that he is a real career person, went abroad and everything… and deleted those tapes, for whatever the reason," Callen grimaces.
"What is it with those anyways?" Deeks frowns.
"Eric and Nell have a lead on the person who altered them," Kensi tells him, to which the team leader adds, "The thing is that we still have to track that person down, and that takes some time because he or she is a very good hacker."
"But not as good as our analysts," Deeks grins.
"Surely not. It's just a last respite," Callen nods.
"Doctor's hunt?" Deeks goes on to question.
"No one around the area reported missing dosages of Botox in significant amounts," Sam sighs.
"That must be some kind of joke," Deeks grunts. Those are under heavy regulations, at least in the concentration that was needed for the small dose that was actually in the needle. One should think this would be easy to find out, but… well, screw the would's and should's. People should do many things, but don't, and would do many things if they could.
"Sadly, no," Sam shakes his head. "So… Carson…"
"Most probable culprit, but we still have no clue how he got the Botox. And we still have to figure out what Smith is up to with the videos. I mean, he faked those for a reason, I'm quite sure," Callen agrees.
"Well, let's just hope we find out soon," Kensi shrugs.
"Right, the big concert is… soon," Sam frowns. Deeks bites his lower lip at that.
"Will you throw up?" Kensi turns to Deeks with a sympathetic smile.
"Very likely," Deeks replies, shuddering slightly. Oh God.
"Well, then let's hope I don't have to follow through with it," Deeks grumbles.
"I really have to follow through with it," Deeks mutters as he stands in front of the mirror, now dressed in full rig. He thought that playing in front of Mr. Parker for the audition was the worst, but it's actually this. Well, and some other stuff that happened earlier on in his life, but… let's not think about that, because then he'll puke all over the way too expensive suit Hetty provided him with.
That is really what he always hated about classical music in the classic sense. Deeks has no problem dressing up, but this just feels stiff and he can't move his arms freely… and he looks like a penguin. Deeks really wished that they got more information before the night, but… well, it can't be changed, as it seems.
Deeks steps out of the booth, tugging at his collar nervously.
"Now look at the fancy detective," Kensi smirks at him, dressed in a violet A-line cut long dress with a low cut on the right side. It has a heart-shaped cleavage with unostentatious crystals. She wears a stole around her shoulders. The hair is in a loose hairdo, accompanied by her alias' typical glasses.
"And look at the fancy agent," he grins, stepping closer. "You look fabulous."
"Well, the glasses are kinda annoying, but… the dress is really nice," she smiles.
"It surely is," Deeks grins at her.
"So, are you guys ready?" Callen asks as he comes around the corner, fixing his cuffs.
"What? You gotta dress up, too?" Deeks cries out.
"In fact," the team leader nods casually.
"Hetty's killing me with this," Deeks throws his hands up. She must be kidding him.
"What?" Callen frowns at him.
"This is not directed against you. It's just… If I wasn't nervous until now, I surely am at this moment. Now with you two watching me on tops of the audience… and those scouts… and the press, oh… god," Deeks mutters, sucking in some much needed air.
"Now, now, Mr. Deeks, you practiced so much. I'd take any bet that you will do just fine," Hetty says as she approaches as well, dressed in a long dark emerald dress with a big stole around her shoulders.
"Of course you come, too. Of course, of course. I'm just gonna be sick," Deeks sighs, but then looks at her, straightening up with his typical smile. "Though you look absolutely wonderful in that dress, Hetty. That surely brightens up my day."
She winks at him, but then continues to assure him, "You will do wonderful, Mr. Deeks, I'm sure."
"And where's Sam now? To complete the bunch?" Deeks sighs.
"I'm staying here," Sam says, approaching them in his casual clothes.
"What? You don't get to dress up, now I feel kinda bad for you," Deeks huffs sarcastically.
"I get to do interrogation in the boatshed. Eric and Nell dug up the hacker who did the deleting," Sam explains, to which Deeks narrows his eyes at him and Callen, "You two played rock-paper-scissors over who has to go to the concert, didn't you?"
Sam grins at him.
"I see," the detective nods.
"Well, we just want to be sure that we can watch out for you. If someone means to make an attempt on your life, this is the night," Callen explains, now more factually.
"Which is why I will stay with you until you have to head to stage," Kensi goes on.
"I will use the time to go to Mr. Smith's office another time to look for more information. Unless I find something interesting, I will head to the music hall as well to have an eye on the audience or anyone looming around. Well, and of course to hear you play, if I get a chance to," Callen tells him with a smug grin.
"That is reassuring and upsetting at the same time," Deeks grimaces.
"You'll be alright," Kensi assures him, patting him on the shoulder lightly.
"Well, I wish you good luck," Sam says.
"What? No pun? No jokes?" Deeks cries out dramatically. "Who are you and what did you do to Sam Hanna?!"
"I'm being nice for once," Sam winks at him.
"I appreciate that, so keep the fingers crossed for me that no one tries to kill me and that I don't just die onstage from embarrassment," Deeks makes a face.
"Let's just go," Kensi tells him and the four leave to the music hall.
After they made their way inside, they gather another time to discuss the final steps.
"Ms. Lange!" comes a voice to their right. The four turn their heads where Mr. Parker approaches.
"Ah, Mr. Parker, it's a pleasure to see you," Hetty greets him.
"The pleasure is on my side, Ms. Lange," Mr Parker grins. "You look absolutely stunning, may I say?"
He takes her hand to kiss the back of her hand. The other agents try not to chuckle at his little overtures.
"Just as do you," Hetty grins at him.
"And who is the young man in your company?" Mr. Parker asks, turning to Callen.
"This is Mr. Alexei Markoff, a friend from Russia who is an absolute fan of classical music. After I told him that my protégé played here in L.A., he could not resist but come along, too," Hetty tells him. Callen extends his hand to the older man to shake it, before speaking with a heavy Russian accent, "It's a pleasure to be here in your wonderful music hall tonight."
"I surely hope that you will like it," Mr. Parker smiles. "So, how about we make our way to the music hall already, my dear?"
"Oh, it'd be a pleasure, my friend," Hetty nods, taking his right arm as he offers it to her.
"Mr. Markoff, do you tag along, too?" Mr. Parker asks politely.
"If it is no problem, I would like to look around a bit more. This is the first time I see an American music hall," Callen replies.
"Oh, sure, do as you please, Mr. Markoff. I will see you later, then," Mr. Parker nods. He and Hetty then walk off to the music hall.
"Well, Mr. Markoff," Deeks grins. "I think Mr. Parker just stole your date."
Callen chuckles, but then goes on more seriously, "Anyways, you guys head to the group rooms now, or wherever the rest of the musicians is. I will roam around a bit."
"Got it," Kensi and Deeks agree.
"Good luck," Callen tells Deeks another time, honestly meaning it.
"Thanks," Deeks nods in appreciation. He and Kensi head to where the other musicians are. All are roaming around nervously, fixing their dresses, their bowties, fix all the things they think they still have to fix. Not that Deeks feels any different. He is all up to fussing at this point.
"And that is exactly what I hate about orchestras, there's so much stress," he shakes his head.
"You're laid-back enough to overcome this, I think," Kensi winks at him.
"July! You are late!" Katy cries out, waving at him wildly.
"If you'd excuse me," Deeks winks at Kensi before heading over to the petite brunette dressed in a satin long black dress with straps going over the shoulders.
"My, my, Kitty Kat, you look like a star in that dress," Deeks grins.
"I hate it. When it was still Mr. Parker, we could wear different colors, but Mr. Smith makes us dress up all black," Katy pouts. "I feel like going to a funeral."
"It suits you," Deeks assures her. "And it's a bit too fashionable for a funeral, don't you think? And anyways, you shine so much to even bring that dress to life."
"Well, thank you," she smiles at him, but then throws up her hands in fake enthusiasm. "Anyways! Yay, you're here!"
"Was there any doubt I would be?" Deeks furrows his eyebrows.
"Uhm, you are one of the most unlucky guys I've met in a while, so I thought you'd be just so lucky to have your car breaking down… or getting hit by an asteroid," Katy shrugs.
"I made sure there were no asteroids on my travel route, and I was brought here by someone else. We figured it would be best if I didn't drive, as nervous as I am," Deeks grins.
"You'll do great, I know it. You've worked so hard, and with that guy…," Katy rolls her eyes.
"Katy, c'mon, not before the concert," Deeks exhales.
"Yeah, yeah, fine," she shrugs.
"Where did you hide the others?" Deeks looks around.
"Over there," Katy says, gesturing over to the left, where the others are indeed standing in a circle, chatting.
"Alright, I'll join you in a bit," Deeks winks at her, patting the woman on the arm lightly.
"Okay," she shrugs. Katy heads off to Judy, instantly up to bickering with her. Deeks shakes his head before looking around for the familiar mob of dark hair… ah, yes. The detective quickly walks over to one of the corners of the room where Adrian leans against the wall.
"Hey there," Deeks greets him as he approaches him.
"Oh, hey," Adrian replies. "You look like a penguin."
"They are my favorite animals," Deeks replies. "And anyways, you look even more like one coz you got black hair to complete the picture."
Adrian rolls his eyes at him, but can't help the smile, "So? Do you feel ready or ready to hurl?"
"Possibly both," Deeks grins.
"Well, if you barf, please turn your head away from me," Adrian huffs.
"Oh, please, I got one helluva aim. I will take you down along with me," Deeks grins.
"If you do, trust me, I'll never talk to you again," Adrian narrows his eyes at him.
"Is that a threat or an offer?" Deeks puckers his lips.
"Whatever," the violinist huffs, but then asks in a more serious and softer voice, "But seriously, you think you'll do fine?"
"I don't know, really. Training went well, so I have good hope I won't make a fool of myself. I keep the fingers crossed, until we get onstage at least, because otherwise it gets hard to play," Deeks shrugs, gesturing.
Is he really that wrong about this guy?
"And your… condition?" Adrian whispers, tapping against his own chest once.
"Everything under control, thanks for asking," Deeks assures him quickly.
Does a murderer ask that?
Deeks just doesn't know. And at this point… he is very tempted to just say to himself that the others shall figure it out while he just… plays his game, plays this tune, plays this kind of secret code.
"Good," Adrian nods, looking relieved.
"And you're okay, too?" Deeks asks cautiously.
"Yeah… I actually feel better than I estimated. I didn't think it'd be… that liberating, really, but for some screwed-up reason it is," Adrian smiles at him sadly.
"Well, then I'm glad, man," Deeks nods. "Talking really helps… at times, at least."
"I didn't even think about this until now, but… this will be odd. Now with you… in… his spot. It didn't hit me until just now…," Adrian grimaces.
"Do you think you'll struggle with that?" the detective questions.
"I will only if you screw this up," Adrian warns him.
"I will do my best to keep up his legacy," Deeks assures him.
"My legacy. I made him the fine player he was," Adrian corrects him.
"C'mon, he brought some talent to the game, you said so yourself," Deeks argues.
"But just some," Adrian smirks.
"You are bitchy as ever. So I don't think I have to be worried about you," Deeks grins.
"You should worry about yourself. All eyes will be on you…," Adrian argues, but then makes a grimace, looking over Deeks' shoulder. "Huh?"
"What?" Deeks frowns, so Adrian explains, "Smith usually shows up fifteen minutes before we head out, to give the last instructions and his infamous-but-not-good prep-up-speech."
"He always gives the same?" Deeks frowns.
"That guy is obsessive with routines. You should have realized by now. And the speeches are thus always the same. Never change a winning team, blah-blah. He thinks it's perfect, even if it's lame… and overrated anyways. I mean, what are we? Footballers? We are musicians, for goodness' sake. I don't need a guy telling me to give it my best. That is my credo anyways," Adrian huffs.
"Then what is he doing here?" Deeks grimaces.
"I have no clue," Adrian shrugs.
"Ugh, darn, I gotta do the last fine-tuning on my violin. I'll see you later," Deeks says as realization hits him.
"The latest when on the stage. Good luck in advance," Adrian winks at him.
"Thanks, good luck to you, too," Deeks smiles, to which the violinist replies with a roll of his eyes and a smile, "I don't need luck, I'm just good."
Deeks sticks out his tongue before heading off to Kensi, who is roaming around near the not-starlets.
"What is it?" she frowns as he approaches her. Deeks leans close to whisper into her ear, "Adrian just told me that it's not usual that Smith shows up that early. He usually comes in fifteen minutes before we go. So this is definitely weird."
"I will have an eye on him," Kensi tells him.
"Alright, I will head to the others for a while," Deeks nods. "Give me the violin. I want to do the last fine-tuning."
"Oh, alright," she agrees.
"Thanks," the detective smiles at her. Kensi nods before swiftly making her way closer to Mr. Smith, keeping out of his periphery however. Deeks walks up to Katy and the others, who greet him cheerfully.
"The bets are standing high, eh?" Jimmy grimaces.
"Right, if we fail this concert, we are having trouble," Carter nods.
"Guys, guys, calm down, we'll do just fine," Katy argues.
"You're the one to talk, you take off soon enough," Jimmy huffs, to which Katy narrows her eyes at him angrily, "But I'm here with you right now and I know you guys. We know how this works, so let's not get worked up over something that we've practiced like maniacs. This is like any other concert."
Just that it isn't, but well, how would she know?
"Katy is right. I mean, I'm nervous, too, but… fussing over it won't help anyone here, so let's just hope for the best… and give our best. And if we screw this up… I'm paying for the drinks."
"I'll take you up on that," Jimmy winks at him.
"You may," Deeks winks back at him. He fumbles around with his violin, trying to get the fine-tuning right. He should have done that already before they left, but… well, his fingers wouldn't keep still.
"You know that you're being a little late for that, right?" Tom makes a face.
"Shut up," Deeks mutters.
"Let him be if it helps him," Judy nudges Tom in the side.
"Thank you, ma'am," Deeks grins. He focuses on the violin again, trying to get it right. It might be that this is all a case and pretended therefore, but… Deeks would still rather not make a fool of himself when in front of all those people. In a sense he is Julian right now. And Julian worked very hard for not only earning this spot, but also to work it. So he shall be damned if he doesn't do his very best. Kensi and the others have an eye on him, so he is just here as… bait… or let's say the eye-candy.
"Susanne? Are you okay, sweety?" he suddenly hears Judy asks with rising worry.
"I think she'll be sick or something," Christian grimaces.
"Susanne? Do you want to have a drink or…?" Katy asks. However, that is the moment the young woman falls forward. Deeks' reflexes kick in and he catches the girl.
"Susanne!" Katy cries out in shock.
"What is it with her?" Tom asks.
"Do we need a doctor?" Jimmy questions. Deeks taps her against the cheek lightly, and the young woman already starts to squirm in his arms.
"I think she's okay. She's already opening her eyes again," he tells them, but then focuses on the young woman again. "Hey there."
"Phi?" she breathes, dazed.
"Nope, sorry, just me, Julian," Deeks winks at her.
"Phi…," Susanne mutters another time.
"Are you okay, or did you hit your head?" Deeks asks her worriedly. She looks around dazed for a second.
"Oh, ugh…," she mumbles.
"I think you didn't drink enough before the concert, then, huh?" Deeks concludes.
"… not really," she admits feebly. "And I didn't get… sleep either."
"There you go. Can one of you…," Deeks means to ask for a bottle, but Christian already holds one out to him. "Thank you."
Deeks hands her the bottle. Susanne takes a few hesitant sips.
"I'm sorry," she mutters, not looking at him.
"No bother, nothing happened," Deeks assures her.
"What is the matter here?" Mr. Smith suddenly asks as he approaches them with fast strides.
"Oh, Mr. Smith. Susanne just had a little dizzy spell," Katy explains.
"Are you alright?" he asks, kneeling down in front of her.
"Yes… yes, I was… I think I didn't drink enough," she nods slowly. "And I didn't get good sleep…"
"We got it covered. I think she just has to take a moment," Deeks assures the conductor.
"Do you think you can play?" he asks Susanne in a soft voice. She gives a faint nod.
"Okay, keep me updated," Mr. Smith says as he straightens back up.
"Will do, Sir," Tom agrees. That is when Jimmy approaches with a chair.
"Ah, look, they got you a chair. Think you can sit up?" Deeks asks the young woman in a soft voice. Susanne gives a weak nod as Deeks lifts her and himself up in one swift motion to maneuver her onto the stool Jimmy got for her.
"Thank you," she mutters. Deeks walks back to his spot to pick up his violin. He takes it in his hand with a grimace, suddenly feeling something wet. He runs his sleeve over the violin's neck, "Dang, that was the rest of my water."
"Is the violin damaged?" Judy asks with a grimace. The detective runs his fingers over the strings to test the sound, "Still in tune, thank God. Ms. Lange would've killed me."
"So, everyone's okay here?" Smith asks another time.
"Are we, Susanne?" Deeks asks. She looks at him with wide eyes, but then nods, "Yeah."
"We're good," Deeks tells Smith another time.
"Okay," Smith nods before heading off again.
For the record, Adrian didn't lie about the speech being lame… Deeks is convinced this is the lamest speech ever given in human history, but well, let's keep in mind that this is not his actual profession.
And so the group now finds itself wandering down the hallways to the stage – and Deeks feels like his inside tries to turn to the outside. As they march through the dimly illuminated corridors, there suddenly is Sarabande again, as though it just waited around the corner to jump on his back to taunt him, humming in his ears, in his soul, and there is the faint smell of wood and broken glass. This shouldn't be a big deal, he knows, it wasn't before, but now Deeks is in front of people, eyes on him of people who are mostly not his friends, people who will judge him, this way or another. Phantom pains rush through his knuckles as Sarabande becomes louder and louder inside his head, so strong that no Mozart or Brahms finds their way past this wall of vicious tunes.
Deeks blinks when he suddenly feels something tapping against his arm. He turns his head to look at Adrian, who tells him in a hushed voice, "Breathe, man."
Only now Deeks realizes that he actually held his breath to the point that his lungs hurt.
"We don't want you to speed up again, so take a deep breath and don't play the drama queen here," Adrian scolds him, though in a surprisingly soft voice. "Breathe through the nose. Just do it as we practiced and you'll do about just fine."
"I'm sorry," Deeks mutters, feeling embarrassed. "Thanks."
The light cascades above their heads in a million colors, exploding into tiny stars raining down on them. Deeks only registers vaguely that people are clapping their hands as they make their way to the seats.
Sarabande is gone again.
And with it… everything else.
There is suddenly just the stage.
And him.
And no more.
"So, you tell me again, what do I need?" Sam asks over the phone as he makes his way to the interrogation room in the boatshed.
"The password for the file containing the tapes. This hacker is good enough to hide it from us. So now we need you to get the truth out of him," Nell tells him another time.
"Alright, do we have anything for leverage?" Sam questions.
"Nothing much spectacular… most of the cyber-crimes that can be linked to him are… well, we can't really prove him his involvement," Eric shrugs.
"Is that the nice way to tell me that we got nothing, is that it?" Sam rolls his eyes.
"Yep," the analyst agrees.
"Awesome. I should have taken scissors, damn," Sam mutters.
"We're working on it as you talk to him. We hope that, given a bit of time in his computer system without him being able to intervene… we get something from it to give you the leverage you need," Nell offers.
"Give your best," Sam grumbles.
"Roger," Eric makes a mock salute.
"Keep me updated," the agent says before hanging up. Sam heads into the interrogation room, where a lanky man his late twenties sits in the chair, or rather slouches down on the piece of furniture as though he couldn't care less. He is brunet and wears clothes loosely dangling on his thin frame. He has a three-day-stubble and bright blue eyes, and a smug smile that almost matches Deeks'.
"Hello, I'm Agent Hanna," Sam greets him curtly as he takes his seat opposite to him.
"Uh-huh," the man mutters, not even bothering to look at the agent.
"So, Mister… Carnegie," Sam begins, but the young hacker snort, "The name's Sniper, man."
"Sniper, really?" Sam can't help but furrow his eyebrows at that comment. The hacker shrugs at him, gesturing with his hand as though he held a gun, "I gotta shoot at a system once, and it's dead."
"Right… you see… Sniper, we have a bit of a problem here," Sam begins.
"And what would that be?" Sniper tilts his head at him, so Sam goes on, "We know as a matter of fact that you helped a man by name Andrew Smith, a conductor at a local orchestra, to… get rid of a few files, let's say."
"And how would you tell?" Sniper narrows his eyes at him. "Because I would beg to differ."
"We have some good hackers on our side of the fence line as well, and they are really good at finding evidence," Sam replies. "I mean, they found you after all."
"Is that supposed to scare me, coz it doesn't?" Sniper huffs, not looking in the least impressed.
"I would be scared if I were you, but hey, it's your business," Sam shrugs. "All I'm saying is that my hackers are at least good enough to find you, and thus to link you to Mr. Smith. Now it's up to you to say how you want to deal with that. The hard way, or the easy way."
"Seriously? That's so old, man," Sniper snorts. "And once again, even if your men were able to find out that I had to do with this person at some point, which I still dare to doubt, then you still have no ground to prove me that I committed a crime. Or else I would have been brought here in cuffs, or am I mistaken?"
"I am offering you the easy way here. If you cooperate with us and give us the information you were supposed to play around with for Mr. Smith, I assure you that you won't have many problems and can soon go on shooting at computers all you want," Sam tells him.
"I don't bite," Sniper retorts. "I won't make a statement, unless you get me my lawyer in here."
"How about we play a little game?" Sam says, folding his hands on the tabletop.
"What game?" Sniper narrows his eyes at him.
"The hypothesis-game. Whatever you tell me is all… hypothetical," Sam grins.
"And what's the prize for it?" the hacker questions.
"The prize for it is that my hackers don't get off the leash to play around with your computers as we speak…," Sam shrugs.
"That's a threat, and against the law," Sniper argues.
"What can I say? One of them is also a bit of freelance, and one could say that he has a bit of a grudge against you," Sam tells him.
"I still don't bite. As your buddy will know, you need something from me, and that is the codes. My system is a minefield. If he steps around too much and falls into too many of my traps, the system shuts down and then the info is gone for good," Sniper huffs.
"I can only repeat it once again: We know of your involvement with Mr. Smith. We can run an investigation, a full investigation. We will search your house, your mother's house, all your friends… we get to you and find out about all those little crimes that piled up over the years. So you do better doing some damage control," Sam argues sternly.
"Alright, let's keep this on the hypothetical level," Sniper says at last. "So… everything I would say would be taken hypothetically."
"You make no statement, just a bit of hypothetical chat," Sam agrees.
"And that's no shit?" the hacker questions.
"I mean it. We are not after you, boy," Sam assures him.
"Well, hypothetically speaking… if this Mr. Smith were a client of mine, what is it to you anyways?" he begins.
"Well, since you were the one to delete specific information in a murder case…," Sam begins, but the young man almost freaks out, "Murder case? No, no, no, I got no shit to do with murder, man."
"Well, as a matter of fact, there was this murder in Mr. Smith's orchestra not long ago, something that you may have heard about in the news…," Sam says, his voice trailing off.
"I don't watch news. I think it's all lies told by the government," Sniper tells him, making Sam grimace, "Aha."
"And I couldn't give less than a damn on the music that dude seems to dig. I'm all up for rap or heavy metal, but none of that shit, no, so I know nothing about someone seemingly having died there," the hacker tells him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, then let me update you – someone was murdered with poison. He collapsed onstage and later on died in the hospital. Now, the conductor is the same guy who hired you, and asked you to delete information. Now you do the math, Sniper, what do you think might be our interest here? Hm, we can actually make this pretty easy. You just gotta tell us what you saw on those tapes…," Sam says, but the hacker intervenes, "I know nothing about the damned tapes… hypothetically, I mean."
"Of course you do, Sniper. Or else you never would have managed to delete the information in question, hypothetically speaking, of course," Sam argues.
"Hypothetically, this wouldn't be my style," Sniper tells him.
"What would be your style, then?" Sam questions. "Hypothetically?"
"I wouldn't look at the candy past the wrapping, you see? I'd just take the candy and cut out the pieces that my clients would ask me for… and not lay my finger on any of the information. I wouldn't ask questions, man. Whatever is that they'd want gone would be none of my business," the hacker tells him.
"So, to put it simple, they just tell you what minutes have to go, and you cut that out," Sam grimaces. "Hypothetically."
"Pretty much. I really don't look at the content. I don't want to have to do with that. I just wanna hack, man, I mean… hypothetically," the hacker tells him.
"Well, now regardless of how this is all just hypothetical, I still need you to give us the… candy… you didn't have a look at," Sam argues.
"I can't do that, man, even if I wanted to. I got my clients and they pay good money to have their secrets protected. I stick to my part of the deal," Sniper retorts.
"You know that you might help cover up a murder," Sam warns him.
"That would imply that I did something illegal, which I didn't. Everything I do is legal in a way," Sniper shakes his head.
"Or not," Sam huffs.
"It's a grey zone," the hacker shrugs.
"Sniper, lives depend on it, okay? We don't have the murderer yet. You are the only one who can deliver us the needed evidence," Sam tries another time.
"Then do your interrogation, man. What do I care? I thought you had such great hackers on your side. If they figure out how to get to the candy, then they deserve the grail. But for as long as that didn't happen, I won't give them something for free. That is not how I roll," the hacker argues.
"Fella, your head's gonna roll, nothing else," Sam shakes his head.
"I can't repeat it often enough, you have nothing against me, or else you wouldn't ask for my cooperation. You have no grounds to take me down, that means you need something from me. And that means that you'll have to do a lot of crawling and kneeling and being nice to the hacker if you want any of that candy," Sniper says.
"We will not deal around with you," Sam tells him sternly.
"Pity, I thought lives depended on it, too bad," Sniper grins at him smugly.
"Where is Mr. Markoff?" Mr. Parker frowns, looking around.
"Oh, do not fret, he sent me a text message only just now that he still has to use the bathrooms. He will sit in the back not to interrupt anyone," Hetty assures him with a fake smile. She knows that Callen is in Smith's office now. He let her know over the earwig that he found the latest tapes from the security cameras and wanted to skim through them, to maybe find new evidence, or at least prevent further harm if someone makes an attempt on Deeks' life.
"I am very excited," Mr. Parker smirks, his eyes now fixed on the stage, where the musicians are still getting ready. Hetty is glad that he doesn't poke for further information.
"Oh, you cannot imagine how nervous I am. This is my protégé, after all," Hetty grins at him.
"Well, Mr. Smith, in his own way, spoke of him in a good way," Parker tells her, to which Hetty frowns, "Oh, is that so?"
"In fact. And that surely means something," Parker chuckles.
"Well, you see that I always dig up a gem if I am out for the search," Hetty tells him.
"If he pulls it off, he really might make it a career," Parker says.
"Oh, I don't know if that is what Mr. Ambrose wants," Hetty argues. As a matter of fact she knows, but… it's not like she has to share that with Mr. Parker, right?
"Who as a musician wouldn't?" Mr. Parker argues.
"Mr. Ambrose is just very special, let me put it like that. He values his liberties very highly," Hetty tells him.
"Yet, he is on that stage tonight," Parker grins at her again.
"He most certainly is, but he does so because he wants to," Hetty argues.
"Then I still hope he changes his mind and stays here. The loss of Mr. Gallagher was tough for the orchestra. This man might be just what we need to have our breakthrough," Parker grimaces.
"And what about Mr. Carson?" Hetty tilts her head.
"I still try to convince him to try his luck elsewhere," Parker shrugs.
"But why? I thought he is such a fine player? Mr. Ambrose is full of praise for Mr. Carson and his play," Hetty tilts her head at him.
"Well, frankly speaking, he is better than your Mr. Ambrose when it comes to technique. And that is why I advise him in such a long time to try out somewhere else. Mr. Smith looks for someone who has starlet potential, and that is something Mr. Carson has yet to earn. I think going abroad or moving around would do him good, but he is persistent in wanting to stay. And I can't even express my confusion about the matter – Mr. Carson does not get along well with anyone here, but… he is persistent, I suppose. I just hope he doesn't miss his chance," Mr. Parker tells her. "I had a similar problem early on in my career. I wanted to make it in the orchestra I idealized, but I had to realize that I had to get better before I could. And that is when I left my comfort zone."
"So you think it's necessary to go abroad?" Hetty puckers her lips.
"Oh, no, not at all. Mr. Smith went abroad, too, and he had technique, I tell you," Parker smirks.
"Ah, so he played himself?" Hetty tilts her head curiously.
"What? Yes, he was very good, but he never made it once abroad. So you see, going abroad is no guarantee for success, but I think it would be for Mr. Carson, to… polish the diamond he is. So in that way… Mr. Smith is very much like Mr. Carson. It's curious that those two never got along, really," Mr. Parker smiles, but then looks at the stage. "Oh, they are about to start."
Hetty looks ahead to the stage, illuminated in a golden glimmer of light.
"I will be just outside, I'll be right back," Sam tells Sniper when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. The agent leaves.
"Eric? What is it?" Sam demands. "Do you have the codes or what?"
"No, we still need them, but because I'm that amazing, I found something else on his system that can actually get him a prison sentence. I went over his bank transactions and found out that he did something for a small mafia ring in his early years as a hacker. He wasn't as good back then, so I found the transactions that link him to the crime. It's not outdated yet," Eric grins.
"That means we can charge him for it," Sam nods.
"Yeah, it won't be long, but…," Eric agrees, and the agent completes, "It might be just the leverage we need."
"Info of the mafia case is on your phone for further reference. Good luck," Nell tells him.
"Thanks," Sam smiles before hanging up again. He heads back inside with a certain smile tugging at his lips, "Michael Romanov."
"What?" Sniper looks at him, though he appears caught off-guard by the name.
"Michael Romanov, rings a bell?" Sam grins as he sits down.
"No?" the hacker grimaces.
"Curious, because you helped a guy by that name only three years ago. You received money from him. And we can prove you that through the transactions," Sam tells him.
"… I didn't do anything," Sniper shakes his head.
"Mafia, Sniper. What do you think will the judge think?" Sam argues. "Look, I don't need you in prison. I believe you when you say that you don't want to have to do with the bad crimes. So you can get away with a black eye, or you get a full blow in the ribs, that is up to you to say."
"I don't want to go to prison," the hacker grimaces.
"I think we can find an arrangement that you may not have, or not for long at least," Sam grins.
"You are offering me a deal?" Sniper questions.
"Yes," Sam nods.
"And that's not just hypothetical?" the hacker asks nervously.
"No, for real. Just give us the information we need, Sniper," Sam tells him. The hacker contemplates, weighing his options, "… 138A79324GDR1W2."
"That is the code?" Sam asks.
"The first one. There is five more to go," Sniper tells him.
"Let me get a hold of my analysts. Tell them the numbers," Sam replies, getting out his phone. He dials and waits for Eric to pick up, "Eric? He will tell you the codes now."
"Alright," the analyst nods, flashing a huge smile. Sam hands Sniper the phone.
"This better be no trick, or you'll get spam mail for the rest of your life, trust me, fella," the hacker grumbles.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Breathe. Focus. Focus on breathing.
What was it again?
Count to one.
The world dims.
The spotlights go on.
Count to two.
You are alone in a room without walls.
There is just you and the music.
Count to three.
Breathe.
Breathe and let the music embrace you.
And then...just let go.
Let go and play.
Miles used to say that to Marty when he was nervous about a particularly hard piece to master. During a time when playing the violin was what his tutor said, and only what he said, a secret code, no more and no less. The absolution in a sequence of tones. The freedom jumping out a single tune. When Deeks could really just let go… and play. When his second best friend's name was violin.
However, then walls arose from the ground and Deeks suddenly learned the boundaries of secret codes, and that those walls could close in on him, every time he tried to rekindle his friendship with his violin, with any violin.
Music is liberating, but it became a prison for him.
Deeks guides the violin to his chin, easing against the smooth surface, allowing his eyes to close for a second.
Breathe and let go.
Let go and play.
Let your mind drift off to the world of secret codes, where landscapes jump out of the bud of music, into colorful images, trees and plants, fire, ice, planets, the universe contained in a single pull of the strings.
Winter.
Tranquility.
Then a storm.
Rising, rising higher. And higher.
All the way to the sky and beyond.
Breathe.
The cold air against your face…
And before Deeks can even register it, his fingers move on their own and bring the images to life before his eyes. Snowflakes fall out of the spotlights. The crowd transforms into a field of snow and the blizzard rushes above his head like a translucent halo of blue light.
Breathe.
Let go.
Let the storm guide you.
"Do you have it?" Sam asks nervously. For some reason, he suddenly got a very bad feeling he can't explain. Maybe it's just because he is here alone while the others are on the mission.
"Yes, yes, just a moment," Eric sighs, madly typing in numbers.
"What do you see?" Sam asks again.
"Give me a moment," Eric sighs.
"Oh my God!" Nell shrieks suddenly.
"What is it?!" Sam demands.
"Deeks was right," she breathes.
"What?" the agent grimaces. What is she talking about?
"Wait, look at it yourself," Eric says, finally managing to get the footage to Sam. The images from the missing files are projected on the screen. Sam looks at it curiously, "That's… that's Gallagher… and Carson."
The agent tilts his head as the images of the two kissing in one of the storage rooms flickers over the screen, "They really had an affair."
"But there's more," Nell argues. Sam continues watching, "That's Susanne… she fine-tunes… Gallagher's violin, and that only short before the concert."
"But look closely," Eric says, zooming in.
"She attaches the needle," Sam gapes. "She murdered him."
"I guess it's not farfetched to think that she was also behind the box-incident. Even if there is no record of that as far as I can see," Nell grimaces.
"There are no cameras in the back," Eric agrees.
"Damn," Sam mutters, already on his phone. "G?"
"What is it? I'm in Smith's office. I'm going through the newest tapes and…," Callen sighs, his eyes fixed on the computer where he is going over the footage from today.
"Susanne is the culprit," Sam tells him.
"What?" Callen gapes.
"We have the missing video footage," Sam tells him.
"Darn it," G curses.
"G, you have to tell Deeks," Sam argues.
"Well, he won't hear me. He wears no earwig," Callen shakes his head.
"Why?" Sam furrows his eyebrows.
"He said it wasn't good for when he played," Callen grimaces, but then gapes. "Oh, holy mother!"
"What now?" Sam asks.
"I got the newest footage here. Susanne fainted short before the show, right into Deeks' arms," G replies, his eyes fixed on the screen.
"And?" Sam demands.
"… She poured something over the neck of the violin while no one was looking," his partner explains.
"So a poison absorbable through the skin, goddamit," Sam growls. "I'm calling an ambulance."
"Kensi! Deeks is in danger!" Callen growls over the earwig.
"What? What are you saying? I can't hear you," Kensi yells. Everyone is cheering and clapping as they give standing ovations after Deeks' concerto. Really, Callen sometimes has a lousy timing.
"Deeks got poisoned by Susanne! You have to get to him," Callen curses, rushing down the hallways.
"… what?!" Kensi asks. Did he just say poison?!
"Get to Deeks, now!" Callen barks, already sprinting down the hallways. "Deeks got poisoned by Susanne."
"Deeks!" she cries out. Oh God, no.
Not again.
No, no, no.