'Hey! Alice! This is Syeed Yusuf, one of my buddies from Israel.' Said Jonathan, introducing Syeed to Alice.

Alice gasped. 'God, I know you... You did that piece about... Uggh...'

'Life under ISIS as woman. Yeah.'

Jonathan patted Syeed's back. 'Hey, bud. I'll be right back.'

'Sure. Where are you going?'

'Booking rooms for us at the hotel? There are going to be a lot of journalists tomorrow, and everyone wants their hotel to be near the press.'

'Alright. See you later.'

Jonathan walked a couple of steps, and sprinted back in Alice and Syeed's direction. 'Hey! Wait up. I was wondering, if the hotel is already crowded, and has only like, two rooms remaining, how do you suggest we split?'

Alice looked at him sceptically. 'You and Syeed can a share a room.'

'And if there's only one room left?'

Alice smirked and hit him on the head with a book she was carrying. 'We don't stay at that hotel, you bimbo!' Jonathan ducked to avoid getting hit with Alice's duffel bag. He was only slightly grazed. He gave a cheeky grin and walked off.

There was a knock on the the door of the Robins' house. Smit got up, checked the security camera. There was a woman in her late twenties at the door. The woman looked restless and fidgety. Before opening the door, Smit stuck his hand in his pocket, making sure his gun was with him.

'Yes? How may I help you?' He said to the woman.

'Hello, Mr. Robins. I'm Alice Duranty, from The Guardian. She flashed her press badge in front of his face. Shit, Smit thought. 'I'm actually doing a piece on... life of civilians and soldiers during war. I was hoping you might give me a quote, or an interview?'

Smit looked surly and sullen. 'No, thanks.' And he slammed the door on her face.

Alice was shocked for a second, having heard a loud bang in her ears. A little harder, and he just might've taken the door off its hinges. She knocked a little harder than last time, 'Sir, Please, I promise, I just want to talk! Please!'

Alice put on a frown, grit her teeth, and stared through the peephole on the door. She was sure that even Smit would've checked to see after a little time to see if she was still there. She crossed her hands, and engaged with a staring match between herself and an imaginary opponent, through the door.

'And who might you be?' said someone behind her. Smit? No, that guy had a buzz cut and didn't smile. This man had his hair put up in a sideway quaff, and was carrying a grocery bag.

'I'm Alice Duranty. I work for The Guardian.' Cringe. Hadn't she left a few days ago? 'I'm working on a piece on the life of civilians and soldiers during war. I was hoping to talk to him. Both of you, really.'

'Well, happy to help. I'm Marco. Come on in.'

'Thanks!'

Marco unlocked the door, and yelled, 'Smit! Smit!' He shot an apologetic smile to Alice, which she returned nervously. Smit, who was sleep-sitting nearby on the sofa, muttered angrily and shut off the TV. 'Yeah, yeah. I'm not deaf. I can hear you.'

Smit cleared a load of crap from the table, including week old newspapers, leftovers still in their original cartons, and lots of other miscellaneous items. Alice took the precious few seconds to look around their house. It was rather averagely furnished, not too fancy, not too shabby, though it hadn't been cleaned in a long time. A wall, was decorated with Smit Robins' medallions, and military awards, photos of him and Marco together, Marco's certificates in volunteering in lots of places.

'Sit.' Smit said gruffly. Alice took a seat on a chair opposite to Smit and a grinning Marco. 'What do you want to know?'

'Well, to start with, how was your time in Syria? How does an individual live life in a warzone?'

Smit blinked slowly. 'Horrible. I... wanted to come back, but... the civilian's lives were a lot worse than mine.'

Alice breathed. 'Marco?'

'Huh, well, the children. Everyone I went with, the whole volunteer group I went with... we felt so good. I know, it wasn't that great an improvement, but, those people had a little hope back in their life. Germany, I think... was going to send for them afterwards. After vetting them.'

'Can I ask you something?' Smit interrupted loudly.

Alice was surprised. 'Of course,' She said.

'What do you think about going there? You're asking us... like a coward. You work behind the scenes.'

'Well, some of us do. Me, in particular, I don't. I've been those places.'

'What did you think? Nice story for a news article?' Smit replied. Marco tried keeping his hand on his brother's, but his brother brushed it off.

'Not really. I just want the war to stop.'

'Really, now? Do you?'

'We've learned to fly the air like birds, we've learned to swim the seas like fish, and yet we haven't learned to walk the Earth as brothers and sisters. It's a pointless war, like any other. It just... creates carnage.' Alice said her eyes getting a little misty. Alice shook it off. 'I do have another question, Mr. Robins.' She looked towards Smit. 'I wanted to ask you about the raid... last year. You were there, weren't you?'

Smit looked up immediately. He had put on his guard. 'That's supposed to be classified. How do you know about it?'

'So it did happen?'

'What?'

'Nevermind, I was simply convincing a rumor. Imagine if it hadn't been true. Embarrassing.' Alice said, trying to maintain her cover as a journalist. 'Ha. Back to topic.' She leaned in towards the brothers. 'So what do you know about the raid?'

By now, she'd thought of Marco Robin to be the more likely suspect. He had been quieter throughout the interview. The answer that he did give, was a way of distancing himself away from the event. Roundabout answers, the good, warm feeling literally anybody who did some good got. His volunteer group all doing amazing things. Smit had a vague albeit personal answer. He wasn't lying.

'Hello? Earth to the Robins'?'

Smit looked up. 'That's confidential content. I can't tell you anything about that.'

Marco took a deep breath, got up, and took deep breaths. Then he dashed out of the house through the back door. 'We've got a runner!' Alice yelled in her mouthpiece. Smit stared wide eyed at her. Callen, Sam, Kensi, and Deeks had surrounded the house before she went in. Now, Sam, who was waiting at the back of the house stepped in and tackled Marco. Within seconds, Marco was in cuffs. Deeks read him his Miranda rights.

'You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.'

Marco did not protest in or on the way to the boatshed. His big brother had tried to follow him, but Alice stopped him, muttering something.

'So, Marco Robins.' Deeks said.

'Yes?'

'You are suspected of terrorism. Do you plead guilty?'

'Of course not! I'm not a terrorist! I'm against all violence.'

'Have you ever talked to an Andrew McKay?'

'Maybe? I don't remember.'

'Ha. How likely.' Said Alice fuming from outside. She knew what would be very good to calm her from a Hulk-phase. A punch to the face of Marco Robins.

'Do you remember a Jonathan Clarke?'

'No.'

'You know what? Robins? I'm not sure if you watch those movies, but... I'm not going to help you. If you cooperate, maybe your death will be reduced to a life sentence. Otherwise, I'm going to make it my one primary purpose to make sure that you never, ever see the light of day until the day you are killed by the electric chair.' Deeks was face to face with Robins.

'I haven't done anything.'

'Why did you run?'

'I panicked. OK?'

'Didn't see your brother panicking.'

'Look, what evidence do you have anyways?'

Deeks gave an evil smile to the camera. 'Oh, about that... Sam?! Bring in the evidence.'

Sam poked in his head through the door and gave the evidence to Deeks in a zip loc bag. 'This, my friend Robin, is,' he removed a machine gun. 'A gun. The same kind that was used to attack an agent yesterday.' He put it back. 'And,' he oohed, 'What's this? A... photo! Of, Andrew McKay and Jonathan Clarke. Sorry, pal. You're in way too deep.'

Robins sighed. 'Look, I'll tell you whatever you want to hear, if you reduce my jail time.'

'I'll think about it. So...' Deeks rubbed his hands, like a child anticipating his Christmas gift. 'First. Question. What the hell happened in Syria?'

'I don't know, everything, I swear. They told me to smuggle in some extra crates with the ones we were carrying on the plane. They were... giving me a lot of money for it.'

'Who was?'

'I don't know. After I got there, there was a warehouse in Aleppo... I was supposed to deliver everything there.'

After 5 minutes, Deeks came out grinning from ear to ear. 'I'm not depending on that guy for a job that is supposed to be secret anymore. We know the address of the warehouse, number of men that are there, everything. Alice was beaming. There was a fair chance that they might find Jonathan alive.

Beale appeared on the monitor. 'Guys, you need to check this out.' The screen clicked and a video popped up. It was a man, with a scarf around his face. His voice was altered and muffled by the scarf.

'The US has 48 hours to free Jamal Abdul. Or we start killing your people. Starting with him.' He spoke slowly, and prodded a man with a gun. Jonathan.

Alice's stomach fell hollow, and she swayed, due to her lack of balance. Her heart started beating faster and harder. She dropped down onto a chair and put her head in her hands. If it were up to her, Jamal Abdul would already be on his way back to Syria from wherever he was currently. But, US didn't negotiate with terrorists. She looked peeked between her fingers to see Jonathan in the video. He looked... fine... strangely enough. He'd lost a lot of weight, and grown a shaggy beard. There were cuts all over his face, but they were relatively minor compared to what was probably about to happen to him. Jonathan... come home.