A/N:- Thanks to Malia Amane for the beta work, and laughing at all the right places. It's always good to know if something is working before I release it to the wilds.
Disclaimer:- These characters, as you would hopefully know by the fact that I've written this exact same statement on several dozen previous chapters, do not belong to me. Whether this is a good thing or not has yet to be established.

Kensi led her partner back into the mission, keeping a few paces ahead of him. Usually, they'd be walking so close that their shoulders would have no choice but to bump together. But now…? Yeah, that wasn't happening.

"You didn't need to do that," she informed him, over her shoulder.

"Oh, really?" he replied. "And, uh, what would you suggest I'd done?"

"He had a gun, Deeks."

They entered the bullpen, moving around to stand by Kensi's desk. She finally turned to face him. He shrugged, noncommittally. "It's not like I planned it," he said. "It, it was just, you know, instinct. I didn't have time to go for my gun."

"I did." She sighed. "So don't try and be macho, it doesn't suit you."

"Alright, first of all, 'Hey!" he said, fixing her with a pointed glare. "And second of all, I just told you, I just reacted. That's all."

"No, no, no," she retorted. "You wanted to feel all macho and beat the guy up. Green is not a good colour on you."

"For the hundredth time, I was not jealous. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? I mean, I already won, so…"

She arched her eyebrow at him. "I am not some prize, Deeks. You don't win or lose me, you…"

"Ahem," came the pointed cough, interrupting Kensi's response. As one, the two agents turned to find Hetty glaring at them, her hands grasped firmly behind her back. Over the bridge of her glasses, she swept her eyes up and down the detective's frame. "Ms. Blye, Detective Deeks," she said, her voice holding no trace of amusement. "Perhaps you could be so kind as to explain why not only does it appear that you brought the contents of the Pacific Ocean with you, but why you also seem to be pooling said ocean on my floors?"

Kensi sucked in her lips briefly, before she flicked her eyes down to Deeks' ratty brown shoes – she really needed to find a way to make sure they disappeared mysteriously into the local dump, but only after they'd been just as mysteriously set on fire – to find that a wide and expanding puddle of water was in fact already forming underneath her partner. She could now also see the slug-like trail he'd left from the doors to the bullpen. Hetty was right about the amount of water too; even now, an hour later, Deeks' clothes were still fat and heavy with water, and his blond locks slicked to his skull. In fact, the only reason she'd allowed him into her car in that state to begin with is because they were on a deadline, and even then she'd made him put down a towel and promise to valet clean the inside.

Deeks looked back up at Hetty, a look on his boyish face that could only be described by the word 'busted.'

"Well, detective?" pressed Hetty again. "I'm waiting."

Deeks cleared his throat nervously, glancing at Kensi for moral support. She tried to give him a level stare back, but it was spoiled by the faintest hint of an amused smile on her lips. "Well, Hetty," he began. "As you, uh, as you know, we went off to apprehend one of the pilots."

"And were you followed by your own personal rain cloud?"

Deeks gave a little laugh. "Something like that." Kensi leant back against her desk, letting her mind wander back as Deeks began his tale.

She'd pulled her silver SRX into the first available parking space they could find. At this time of day, with the last few hours of sunlight, Venice Beach was packed with tourists, surfers, couples and gaggles of friends, all seeking the last rays to bronze their skin. The sidewalks were packed, as was the golden sandy beach; it was the price they paid for working in a popular tourist spot. The pair exited the car, into the hustle and bustle of the moving throngs.

"Hetty's going to kill you, you know?" she told him, conversationally.

"What for?" Deeks replied.

"For taking those clothes out of Wardrobe without her permission."

Deeks shrugged. "Couldn't be helped, I've already ruined two sets of clothes today. Besides, nothing bad's going to happen to them, and I'll return them before she even notices they're gone, so I'll be fine."

"It's your funeral," she replied. "Which I won't be attending, if you're curious."

"Oh, please," he said. "You'll be there. You'll be inconsolable, crying for months."

"I'll probably bring a date," she told him. He returned her smile.

"So, where did Nell say we were going exactly?" asked Deeks, pushing the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt back up his forearms.

"We're not too far from the phone's GPS location," she replied. "It hasn't moved for the last few minutes, so we just need to keep an eye out for him."

Deeks nodded, before craning his neck around, baby blue eyes peering this way and that. He did, Kensi noted, linger a moment too long on a group of bikini clad girls for her liking, and she stomped down her flicker of jealousy. She shook her head. Deeks was Deeks, and he wasn't going to stop looking at pretty girls just because they were together. As long as he didn't do anything more than look they had no problem, especially since Kensi herself wasn't going to stop looking at pretty boys either.

Uh oh, she thought. Speaking of jealousy… She'd spotted their target, pacing up and down not too far from them, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Lieutenant Rand had changed out of his uniform, and into a pair of board shorts and T-Shirt. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings. A second later, Deeks spotted the pilot, and she felt his whole body stiffen.

"Am I glad it's him," he said.

She sighed. Men and their posturing. It was usually adorable, to see how much they thought it mattered, but not right now. "Deeks," she warned him. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Like what?" he asked, as they began to make their way towards the oblivious Lieutenant. "Relax," he said a second later. "I'm okay, I'm not jealous."

She shook her head in disbelief. Just then, Rand happened to look up. His mouth hung agape as he spotted them, eyes bugging out wide. "NCIS," she called to him, but she already knew what was going to happen.

Rand dropped his cell phone, breaking away from them. But Deeks was already moving towards him, Kensi a half second slower. "No, no, no," cried Deeks, "I hate when they run. Why do they always run?"

The pilot had good speed, his long limbs carrying him further into the swell of people, which he dodged nimbly around. Kensi suddenly recalled that his bio stated that he liked to run marathons. Not that it'd do him much good; most of their foot pursuits were over in seconds, so Kensi and Deeks trained for the sprint. She was already eating up the small distance between herself and her partner, who was also gaining on the pilot, when Rand darted to the left, feet pounding on the wooden planks as he made his way out onto the Venice Pier. If anything, there seemed to be even more people on the pier than elsewhere, with fisherman lining the edges, and small children clutching balloons in their grasp. Rand tripped on something, stumbling forward, but managed to keep his momentum going, scrambling back to a vertical base without losing much speed.

But the agents were closing on him, and Kensi knew that the Lieutenant was running out of space; not too far up head, the pier ended. Rand reached the railing in a matter of seconds, screeching himself to a halt. He span, and she could already see the glint of metal in his hand as he pulled his pistol up towards his pursuers.

Kensi slowed to a stop, her hand reaching into the back of her jeans and pulling out her own SIG. "Don't do it," she yelled at Rand. But from her side she heard a guttural bellow; Deeks wasn't slowing down. The pilot balked a second, shocked that the detective was still hurtling towards him, and that half instant pause before he could shift his weapon was enough. Deeks drove his body against the Lieutenant, still at full speed. The impact sent them both staggering backwards, Rand's back hitting the railing. But the momentum wasn't going to stop there, and together they pitched over the top, disappearing from Kensi's sight.

"Deeks," she cried, rushing towards the barricade, even as she could hear the heavy splash as the two men hit the water below.

Hetty, needless to say, was less than impressed as Deeks finished his story with how he'd dragged the pilot back to dry land, where Kensi was waiting for them. The Operation's Manager didn't sigh, didn't even blink. Just stared at Deeks until he looked away.

"I'm still not hearing a reason why there is a trail of water in my building a mile long," she said, finally. "Do you not keep a spare set of clothes in your Go-Bag?"

Deeks flushed slightly, flicking his arm up to scratch at the back of his head. The motion sent thick droplets of water spattering over Kensi. Thankfully, none went over Hetty. "Well, see," he began. "The thing about that is, as you know my clothes kinda got stretched out of shape, and then my spare kit got kinda slightly blown up."

This time Hetty did blink, and she re-examined their LAPD liaison as if seeing the actual clothes he wore for the first time, rather than the water that was logged in them. "Are those my clothes, Detective Deeks?" she asked, voice high.

Oops, thought Kensi. I did try to warn you.

"Well, see, the thing is…" Deeks started, before Hetty cut him off.

"Go, take a shower, get out of those clothes before you warp the flooring. I will try and find you something to wear that I can afford for you to ruin, and I'm sure we have a mop and bucket somewhere with your name on it. And Detective? I believe we shall have a long and interesting discussion about you helping yourself to items from wardrobe without asking just as soon as this case is over."

Deeks looked like he'd rather have another conversation with Sam about tradecraft, but he sullenly headed towards the showers. Kensi followed after him. "See," she began. "I told you that…"

"Ah," called Hetty, loudly and cutting her off. "Alone I think, this time, Ms. Blye."

Kensi looked back, suddenly aware that several of the nearby agents were staring at them, and felt her face turn beetroot red. Slowly, she crept back towards her desk, as her partner continued off towards the showers.

Wait a minute, she thought a moment later. What did she mean by 'this time?'

"I'm telling you, I don't know anything," said Rand, sullenly. His eyes were wide with fear; the calm exterior he'd displayed before had melted under the steady glare of Sam and Callen. He swallowed nervously, eyes flicking around the upstairs interrogation room as if he were searching for a way out. "I already gave my report of what happened with the marines."

Sam loomed forwards across the desk, towering over the seated pilot, who shrank back, his still-damp clothing creaking as he did so. "Then why'd you run?"

"I don't, uh…" Ran swallowed again. "I don't know. That's the God's honest truth. I saw someone calling me, and I guess I just… it was just a fight or flight reaction."

"That why you pulled a gun too?"

Rand nodded. "Yeah, yeah, look, I'm sorry, I really am, I don't know why I did it. I just don't know."

"You know what, G?" asked Sam, leaning back again. "I think I believe him."

Callen moved from his place in the corner of the room. "I do too. He's got an honest face."

Rand nodded again, urgently, as if trying to enforce that belief in the two agents.

"You know," continued Callen, "a lot of the time, people only run cause we're chasing them."

"That they do," added Sam. "And we only chase 'em cause they're running. But you got an honest face, so we're gonna give you the benefit of the doubt."

Callen stuck his hand out towards Rand. "Well, thank you for your time, sorry to have been an inconvenience."

Rand examined the hand, as if seeking some sort of trap. "I… I can go?" he stammered.

"Of course you can," said Callen, hand still outstretched. "You wouldn't lie to us. You had nothing to do with this; we have your report."

Still suspicious, Rand nevertheless took the proffered hand, and shook it. Callen couldn't help but feeling like he was shaking a damp fish. Rand rose, shuffling slowly towards the door, eyes locked on the two agents.

"Oh, one more thing," said Callen as Rand reached for the door. He gestured to the chair. "Why don't you take a seat for a sec?"

Rand nervously returned to his chair.

"It's okay," said Sam gently. "This'll only take a moment, and since we know you're such an honest guy, and wouldn't lie to us. So why don't you tell us about the half a million dollars that were just wired into an offshore account in your name?"

Rand sighed, closing his eyes, his entire body seeming to go limp. "They promised no one would find out," he breathed a moment later.

"Who promised you?" pressed Callen.

"Quiggin and his squad," said Rand. "They paid us the money to open the bay doors of the plane in mid-flight and let them parachute out, then adjust the read outs so it looked like nothing had happened."

"Why?"

Rand took a second, hovering in his indecision. Then, finally, he continued. "They found something in Afghanistan, some priceless artefacts and things like that. They were smuggling it back to the US with them, and were going to disappear and start new lives on the profits."

Callen craned his head to see Sam, arching his eyebrow. This, he thought, changed everything. His partner's features were already twisting into a mask of rage.