A/N:- Malia Amane did the thing. The Beta thing. So big props, as always, for pointing out all the times I suddenly stopped typing in the middle of a wo
Disclaimer:- I have composed a Haiku:
I do not own this
These are not my characters
Please don't sue my ass
The door to Interrogation One burst open, causing Comiskey to jump out of his seat a full two inches. Into the room roared Sam, like a rampaging Juggernaut.
"Sam," called Callen, helplessly, as his partner strode purposefully towards the marine, before towering over him. Sam seethed, his face taking on an angry red hue. Like an enraged bull, he snorted deep breaths out through his nostrils. Even the hardened sailor before him shied back a little.
"You ain't no marine," Sam accused. "You're a two bit thief. You don't deserve to wear that uniform."
Comiskey licked his lips, his earlier cool exterior faltering under the unleashed wrath of Sam Hanna.
"You're a disgrace," continued Sam, and Callen could tell he was barely keeping his rage in check. He scrambled over, grabbing his partner by the waist and tugging against him.
"Calm down, Sam," he ordered, but Sam paid no heed, straining against Callen's arms. "Don't do anything you'll regret."
Sam jammed his thick finger towards Comiskey's face. "You're a disgrace to that uniform, you're a disgrace to the Navy. I'm ashamed to even be associated with you. Always faithful? That's what you marines say, huh? Don't make me laugh. You ain't a marine; you're a common crook!"
Callen, with a great deal of leverage on his side, was able to back up the huge ball of fury. He pushed Sam into a corner, using his own body as a shield. "I said calm down." A moment later, Sam seemed to ease slightly, the set of his body loosening. Callen craned his neck to look at Comiskey, noting the beads of sweat that littered the man's face. "Look, you gotta give me something, man. I don't know how long I can keep him back."
"Nothing like dinner and a show," said Kensi, swallowing a huge bite of her burger.
Deeks grinned to himself, watching the grease trickle down his partner's chin. Her questionable eating habits were just another part of why he loved her so much. He tossed the remains of his own meal into the bin, wiping his hands on the handful of napkins. "Ya know, it's, uh, it's always fun to watch you guys work. We can't get away with tricks like that in LAPD. Everything's gotta be one hundred percent above board."
"Well, maybe you should become an Agent, so you can join in the fun?" Kensi replied, not taking her eyes off the monitor, where Callen was still pleading with Comiskey for some information.
"I think I have enough fun on the job as it is," he said, putting as much leer into his voice as he could muster. Kensi finally glanced over at him, catching sight of the huge wolf-like grin he had plastered onto his features.
She sighed, shaking her head, and grinning back at him. The Kensi Special, he called it. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you," she told him.
"Cause you're in love with me."
"Yeah, well that seems to be less and less the case every day," she retorted. Her voice was steady, but the corners of her mouth twitched up, letting him know she didn't mean it.
"That's fine," he replied. "I'm totally okay with our relationship being based solely on sex."
"Because we both know that worked out so well last time."
"Touché," he said, grinning, before he returned his attention to the large monitor. He hopped up to sit on the edge of the table as he watched Sam, straining against Callen, trying to get his hands on the cowering Comiskey. Unfortunately, despite his fear, it also appeared that the marine wasn't going to cough up any information any time soon.
"Dammit," Deeks grumbled a moment later, scratching at his ribs, rubbing the fabric of the polo shirt he wore.
Kensi glanced over again. "What's up?" she asked.
"It's this shirt," he moaned. "It's so itchy. In fact, it's so itchy, I think Hetty might have done something to it to make it so itchy. Do you think she'd put itching powder on it intentionally?"
"I did warn you not to take her things," Kensi informed him. "So if I were you, I'd stop complaining."
"But it itches," he whined.
"Then stop scratching it," she said, in an astonishingly accurate impression of his mother.
"What if I get a rash? What then?"
"Then you get a rash."
"But it might interfere with our purely sex-based relationship," he said, grinning again.
Kensi shot him a dark look.
"You know what might make it better?" he asked. "A hug. You know, just like a little snuggle session."
His partner shook her head, rising from her seat and crossing to his side. Gently, she leant forward, peppering a light kiss against the stubble on his cheek. "We're working, Deeks," she informed him, before returning to her seat.
"I wasn't necessarily talking about from you," he said. Thankfully, any retort she may have had was interrupted as Sam and Callen emerged from Interrogation. Sam was shaking his head, while Callen remained as straight faced as always.
"I really thought that'd work," said Kensi, as the two agents reached the table.
"Me too," admitted Callen.
Sam shook his head again. "He's too loyal to the others," he said. "I don't think he fully agreed with what they were doing, but he went along because they're his family just as much as his wife is. I don't think he's going to roll on them."
Just then, the monitor behind them shifted, to show live footage from Ops. On screen, Nell and Eric peered at them. And behind them, looming large despite her diminutive stature was Hetty.
"Situation report," she said, voice level.
Callen scratched at his perma-stubble. "Not good so far, Hetty," he admitted. "Rand was only told a little, he wasn't part of the overall plan. And Comiskey isn't going to snitch on his brother marines."
"Well, you'll be pleased to know," said the Operations Manager, "that SECNAV agrees with your assessment; the marine's disappearance was not related to Operation Broken Swallow. As such, the mission will be going ahead, with a minor delay, and a new team. But, Mr. Callen, just because this case no longer has national security repercussions, does not mean that I want you to investigate it with any less than your full attention. Whatever they stole could still have political consequences."
"Hetty," said Deeks, scratching at his shirt again. "When have you ever known us to give less than 100%?"
"Just try to keep your clothes on, Detective," Hetty retorted, earning a round of laughter from the rest of the team.
Deeks grinned, shaking his head. "Alright," he said. Kensi, still laughing, nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.
After Hetty had departed from the screen, the agents turned to each other. "Looks like we're back to square one," said Sam, trying to hide his frustration. "We still don't know where to start looking for the marines."
"There's still the matter of Quiggin's apartment, too," added Kensi. "We still don't know who rigged it to blow, or why."
"You gotten anywhere with the laptop, Eric?" asked Callen, turning to the monitor. Eric didn't answer, just seemed to be staring off into space. "Eric?"
Nell nudged him gently, and he gave a start.
"We boring you, Eric?" as Sam.
"No, no," he replied, shaking his head. "What did you say?"
"The laptop?"
"Still working on it," Eric said, still seeming distracted. "I was just thinking. What if you're looking at this from the wrong direction?"
"What do you mean?" asked Callen.
"Well, what about if, instead of looking for the marines, you look for what they stole?" His voice quivered.
"We don't know what they stole," said Sam. "And even if we did, they're gonna have it with them. Meaning we still have to find them."
"Yeah, but they're going to have to sell it, right? If they want to retire off it?" Eric looked less and less sure of himself with each passing second. "And we don't really need to know exactly what they have? Just, sorta, what roughly it could be that they'd smuggle it in from Afghanistan? So it's gonna be something they need to sell to a fence or something? And then, I dunno, figure out who they're likely to sell it to, and maybe work back from there?" His face was a mask of dorky desperation.
"Eric," said Callen. "You may suck at playing ball, but your brain more than makes up for it."
Sam nodded his agreement. "Not bad, Eric. Not bad at all."
On the monitor, Eric beamed delightedly. By his side, Nell was staring at him open mouthed, her features proud.
Callen turned back to the others. "Okay, I think I know someone we can reach out to."
"And I got some people I can speak to in LAPD too," added Deeks.
"Good," said Callen. "Go do that."
Kensi turned to the monitor. "Eric, I could kiss you right now."
"Ahem?" came a pointed cough from Deeks.
"What?" replied Kensi, already heading towards the door. "You didn't come up with it."
"No," replied Deeks, already scurrying after his partner. "But I was thinking it really loudly. Eric must have been, I dunno, picking up on my, on my brain waves."
"That'd involve you actually having a brain, Deeks," countered Kensi.
Callen watched them disappear out the door, shaking his head, before turning to Sam. "Well then," he said. "Let's so see Arkady."
The Russian who led them through Arkady's house was not one Sam and Callen had seen before. He was the usual type though; large, heavily muscled, with close cropped hair. His jacket bulged with the familiar shape of a weapon. He hadn't known who they were either, and it had taken Callen several attempts – as well as flashing his badge – to get them an audience. They followed the man up the curved staircase in the front foyer, and down a corridor.
"This is nice," said Sam, admiring the lush furniture and decorations around them. "You know, I seriously considered playing professional ball before I joined the SEALs. Sometimes I wonder: if I'd done that, would I live in a place like this?"
"The way you played," said Callen, voice dry, "I'd have been surprised if you could afford a trailer."
Sam shot him a dirty look.
Callen ignored it. "Besides, if that'd have happened, you'd never have met me."
"I'm liking this alternative world more and more," Sam said.
Callen shrugged. "Or married Michelle." Sam opened his mouth briefly. Callen smiled at him. "I'm gonna tell her you paused before responding to that," he taunted.
"Don't you dare, G," growled Sam. Callen just laughed at him.
Finally, the Russian reached a door, knocking on it. At a call from within, he opened the door, leading the Agents in. The inside was a spacious home office, with a large desk in the centre, and one whole wall covered with books. Behind the desk, Arkady Kolcheck was speaking to someone on the other end of the line. He looked up, recognised the partners, and held up a finger for them to wait. There was a soft click behind them, and Callen turned to see that the hulking Russian had exited, closing the door behind him.
Arkady continued his call, and out of respect of their relationship, Callen tried hard to not automatically translate the Russian. Finally, Arkady ended his conversation.
"I see you've got some new security," said Callen, gesturing the way the guard had left.
"Others kept dying," Arkady replied, his accent still thick despite the time he had spent in the States. "Usually around the time you come visit. I hope this is not going to become habit? Is starting to get expensive."
"Could be cause you associate with a lot of bad people," said Sam.
Arkady turned his gaze from Callen, as if finally noticing the ex-SEAL was there. "But you still have same bodyguard. Is good."
"I'm not his bodyguard," said Sam. "I'm his partner."
"Does this mean you pay less?" Arkady asked Callen, as if interested.
"It means Uncle Sam foots the bill," Callen replied. "We're looking for a fence."
"Try Home Depot," shrugged Arkady.
"If someone were trying to sell something they smuggled in from Afghanistan," Callen corrected.
"What sort of thing?"
"Something they stole, that they thought could make a lot of money. Something they need to get rid of under the radar, and not attract any attention from Afghani immigrants."
Arkady paused, tenting his fingers on the desk before him. "Is not much to go on," he said. "But I can make some calls, see what is out there."
"Thanks" said Callen. He and Sam turned towards the door.
"Maybe I look into this 'partners' thing, too," Arkady called after them. "Save myself some money."
The two agents closed the door behind them as they left. Outside, the Russian was waiting for them. As they followed him towards the doors, Sam leaned in close to Callen. "When do you reckon Arkady's gonna realise we made him an informant?"
Callen glanced over his shoulder at the room they had just left. "Oh, he knows," he said. "And he's keeping track. One day, he's gonna collect. And it's probably gonna be pretty big."
"Yeah," admitted Sam. "And I guess we'll just have to worry about that when it happens."
"Hmmm hmmm," agreed Callen.
The Pawn Shop's bell jangled as Deeks pulled the door closed, stepping back out into the California sunlight, and sighed.
"Strike two," said Kensi from his side.
"Yeah," Deeks agreed. "But at least we got another couple of names out of it. This is what real police work is like; a lot of shoe leather, chasing down every lead, working every angle. None of your fancy computers and stuff."
"Yeah, but you like working with us," said Kensi. There was a faint hint of a question in her words.
"Of course," he replied. "But I like being a cop too."
His partner pulled her lips into her mouth briefly, but didn't respond. He was about to ask what was on her mind when his phone began to ring. He flicked it onto loudspeaker. "Hey Nell," he said. "Please tell me you guys have got something. I'm wearing my shoes out here, and my legs are starting to hurt from walking around so much."
Kensi grinned at him, shaking her head.
"Nothing on any potential buyers," Nell replied. "But LAPD found a couple of bodies. After running their IDs, they discovered they were marines, so contacted NCIS."
"Okay, Nell," said Kensi, throwing her partner a confused look. "But surely someone else can take this; we're in the middle of a case."
"That's just it," said Nell. "As soon as we got the information, it got flagged up to us. They're both members of Kilo Squadron."
Kensi's eyes went wide, and Deeks knew they mirrored his own. "Send us the address," he said.
"Already on your phone," came the reply, before the Data Analyst hung up.
"Remember that time I told you I liked interesting?" said Kensi. Deeks nodded. "I take it back."