Author's Note: Shalom, Namaste, and Salaam! Okay, I realize some people take what G. said about not serving as the truth, but I think that in the tradition of episodic TV writing, some details get switched around back and forth. In last year's "Christmas Episode" they had G. and Sam comparing "service records" now, if they were discussing their NCIS service, they'd have said Personnel Files. They also hinted that Callen did indeed join the armed forces all through Season 1. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! To any reader who ever watched JAG (and if you haven't you should) there are two "Easter Eggs" honoring the show that started it all! I hope you all enjoy... and we will be switching POV's throughout the rest of the tale.

I'm sitting in the back room, taking my second shot of Vodka, when I hear Deeks yelp and yell at the bartender. I wonder if I'll ever get used to that inner-child he has. Don't get me wrong, Deeks' inner-child is one of the reasons I like him. It might drive my partner insane, but I admire it. Sometimes I even envy it. I never had an inner-child, even when I was a child. The fact that Deeks still has his is a testament to his strength. I'm glad he's smart enough to use it to make people underestimate him. It's his greatest asset as an operative. Professional admiration aside, on a personal level, Deeks is a fun guy to be around. I'm kept entertained by his antics, even when he's trying to annoy me. I let him think he succeeds, but the truth is I'm cracking up in my head.

A slow, syrupy voice starts cooing in my ear. "Are you sure I can't get you something to eat, Sugar?"

I'll eat raw goat heart again before I touch any food in this place. "No thanks," I say. I put a bit of bite in my voice, trying once again to discourage the barmaid's persistence.

Once again, it doesn't work. I repress a shudder as she runs her hands over my shoulders. It's not that she's repulsive; she isn't, considering the marks of hard living left on her. It's just that I'm not keen on people touching me when I don't want to be touched. I'm not a tactile person to begin with, and it makes my skin crawl. I pull away roughly, and a pout forms on her thin lips.

"Now don't be like that, Sugar. I'm only being friendly," she coos. For a moment, I feel bad. I see genuine disappointment in her eyes.

"Keep away from him, Tammy. You don't know where that one's been." I pour another shot and make a note that I owe Deeks when I hear his blessed voice, oozing charm.

I'm slightly surprised when Tammy's face transforms with a bright genuine smile. It shows how pretty she must have been before life brought her to this place. She rushes to Deeks, takes his scruffy face in her hands, and plants a kiss of his smiling lips. It's nothing intimate. He accepts it, but he's careful not to return it. I get the sense that this is a standard greeting, and I can't help being amused. Kensi will always be my favorite agent, she's a 'born operator' with the hard head of a Marine, but Deeks is a true wildcard. I love watching him slide in and out of who he needs to be at any given moment. I'm glad Kensi isn't here and doesn't know this place exists.

Tammy finally releases his face and ruffles his unruly curls I turn my attention back to what they're saying. "Marty, you've been neglecting me!" she scolds with an indulgent smile.

"Well, what's my incentive if the first thing I see coming around is you making a play for the new guy? I've told you, Tammy, you have got to be careful! What happens if Hank or I can't help you?" he says, setting down the beers and a squeeze bottle of lime juice on the table.

I raise my eyebrow at the cold six-pack. Does he honestly think I'm going to get even a tiny bit buzzed in a place like this? Maybe Sam's tradecraft lessons didn't work and I need to kick in some survival training.

Before I can continue this line of thought, I see Tammy flick her badly bleached ponytail and sigh. "You worry too much, Marty! This one's okay. He's clean and says thank you. Do you know how rare it is someone like that comes in here? News flash, Babe, it's just you, Hank, and now him. If you're going to keep disappearing for months on end, I've got to take what I can get!"

Deeks turns to me, his face far from friendly, but his eyes sparkle with the look that lets me know this will be the water-cooler topic tomorrow, and he will love every minute of it. "Is there anything for Tammy to get, buddy?" he growls.

I pour myself one more shot, if Deeks wants to share beers the Vodka has to go. I raise the shot glass to Tammy and bow my head in her direction. "I'm flattered. I really am, but I'm not what you're looking for."

Her face twists in pain and anger as she whirls to face Deeks. I feel bad. I hoped she'd accept my toast with no hard feelings. "I hate you, Marty!" she hisses.

He smiles, kisses her on the cheek, and tugs at her hair. "You'll thank me someday. Hank needs you."

She stomps back to the bar, her steel-toe boots rattling the old loose floorboards. Deeks sighs and flops down in the chair. "You could have just told her you don't own a bed, Callen," he chides, opening a beer.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. Deeks makes fun of everyone, including me, but this is the first time he's dared comment on my personal life like this. He's a great fit for the team, and I'm glad to have him for Kensi, but the only time we've touched on our personal lives was when he had to go under as Max Gentry. I have to admit, it was very uncomfortable to see so much of myself in him. I thought about Jason Tedrow, Kristen, and my longing to just melt away and make the lie real. I tried to help him hold on to his real life as best I could. That's when Deeks became one of mine. I probably should have told him a long time ago, especially since he came with me to Romania. Maybe now is the perfect time to get it out, but first I have to make him sweat a little. I'm fine with sass, but there are limits.

"She would've offered me hers, and Kensi talks too much," I reply, keeping my eyes on his and my voice flat. If I play this right, he won't know I'm amused.

Deeks suddenly looks shy, something I never thought I'd see. He runs his hand through his mess of curls and hands me a beer. "I get beer for free here, but I have to pay for anything else. The lime juice is on Hank." He pauses, opens his, and takes a sip. "She thought I needed to know what makes you tick once I came in as a permanent liaison officer. She wanted me to understand that I am mere plankton in the dangerous ocean of international intrigue."

I give myself a mental pat on the back for successfully asserting my authority, and let my smile break out. I mixed the lime in my beer and take a long drink. "You're not plankton. Yes, some of the cases we get go beyond your average scum, but you're good at what you do, and you learn quickly. If you weren't, Hetty wouldn't want you, and I wouldn't keep you, let alone partner you with Kensi."

I see a brief flash of surprise as his eyes grow wide, but then he quickly covers it by taking a drink. He starts peeling the label off the bottle, concentrating as if he's disarming a bomb. Whatever his thoughts are, I wait patiently for him to decide if he wants to share. "I thought Hetty forced me on you guys," he mutters.

He manages to get the label off clean and intact, and I find myself impressed considering peeling a label off a Corona isn't easy. "What gave you that idea?"

"Easy, Hetty is the equivalent of the Almighty. What she says goes," he replies with a grin.

I bite the inside of my cheek. The pain clears up any mellowness from the alcohol. I've always known that Deeks went through a period of insecurity with the team. It's only natural, because Sam, Kensi, and I have known each other for years; even before we became a team. When I was promoted to Special Agent in Charge, I chose them. Of course, having Deeks come in made for a difficult transition. I just didn't realize that he never knew the truth. I forgot that he, like all kids who grow up like we did, judges what he sees in the moment to adapt. That's my mistake, and I have to fix it now.

"You're dead wrong!" I say, and nearly wince when his eyes snap to mine. He looks like I just told him the tooth fairy doesn't really leave money for his teeth.

"Excuse me!" he stammers. "Need I remind you of the welcome I got from Sam? He wanted to tear my head off for sitting in a chair!" he snaps.

The first thing you learn in Foster Care is where you are in the pecking order. It changes constantly, and if you step out of line, you get set down hard. People like Deeks and I survive by knowing where our place is. Right now, it hits me that I've left him in a place he doesn't belong. "Sam took Dom's death harder than anyone, even Kensi. He had his reasons, but that doesn't mean Hetty forced you on us. I wouldn't let her do that!"

He shakes his head, and I can tell he's trying not to laugh. "I know you're the favorite, Callen, but you're just as terrified of her as the rest of us."

Part of me says I should just let him joke. I should let him go back to thinking about today, Kensi, and not shatter his view of the world in this hovel. There's a bigger part pushing me on, if I let this go then I'm failing my team, my family. "Deeks, when Dom died Hetty tried to resign. Vance even offered me her job. I had to pick the man's pocket to keep the papers from going through. Believe me when I say, if I didn't want you on my team you wouldn't be sitting with me. You'd be sitting with Hank or Tammy. You need to know the whole story."

Deeks takes a sip of his beer and leans back. I can see the disbelief in his eyes. I guess I'm so used to keeping the fact that I am actually in charge of this team a secret, they even forget sometimes. That's how I want it though, so I'll set the record straight and let everything get back to normal. I wait and let Deeks process what I've just told him. Thankfully, with his quick brain, it doesn't take him long.

"Tell me everything," he demands in a quiet voice.

I lean forward now keeping careful to hold his eyes. "You know Hetty would like you to come to NCIS for good, don't you?"

He gives me a faint smile. "She gave me the papers before she ran off to Romania, but it's kind of obvious if you think about it. I don't think I want to turn in my badge right now. I have this one for a reason."

I nod my head once, to show that I'm not taking sides on that one. I believe a man has to find his path in his own time, and sometimes that means he takes many. Deeks is an incredible cop, and I'm not about to disrespect his choice. "Well, she's been checking you out since long before Dom. Heck she's probably had her eye on you for years. I mean she's known about me since I was five." I hold my breath at the rage that washes over me. Some wounds are still too fresh. I hope Deeks doesn't expect me to elaborate.

"I love that tiny Ninja lady, but she scares me to death. What does this have to do with me being on your team? She didn't know what would happen to Dom."

I give him a small smile of gratitude, and drink some beer. "No, but the original plan was once Dom became a full-fledged agent he and Sam would partner up and Sam would get his own team. Kensi and I would probably partner for a while, and then I'd train Renko until he was ready for a team of his own. Hetty would have poached you anyway, and if we got along you'd come in with us and eventually I'd give you to Kensi."

I watch him think for a while. It's a little weird to see him so still and quiet. Deeks is typically kinetic energy and non-stop chatter. It drives Sam and even my hyperactive favorite agent crazy at times. I happen to like it; it keeps me on my toes. However, I'm also not surprised that he can be still and silent. This is probably as close to getting to see him unguarded as I'll ever get. I'm honored; I've read his file, even the sealed records (God bless Hetty and Nate). I'm glad he can trust me.

Finally, he looks up at me. Understanding and gratitude shine in his eyes. Like me, NCIS is probably one of the few places he's ever been wanted and I get that. "Sam still acts like I was forced on him. When Hunter put us together, he stayed angry most of the time. He thinks I don't have any discipline, and I just goof off constantly. Don't get me wrong, I think it's hilarious. However, being on a team means trust, and I'm not sure I've earned his. I'd appreciate your advice."

I sigh. Sam is one of the best men I know. He's my dear friend, and I'd kill for him, or I'd die for him without blinking. However, he can be difficult. He lives in a very narrow world of black and white. "Sam is a SEAL. By training, and by his own nature, he lives in a world where he has to see things in only one way. Look at the bottle in front of you. Is it half empty or half full?"

He's staring at me like I've lost my mind or I'm completely drunk. He stares hard at the bottle. "It's both," he answers with complete certainty.

For a moment I'm stunned, I wasn't expecting that answer. I feel like kicking myself because I underestimated him. Nate would have a field day, and wouldn't hesitate to say he's stronger than I am. Then he'd get all annoying and start pestering me about starting therapy again. I brush those thoughts aside. "Sam would say it's half full. That's who he is; he can't see it any other way. That's why he gets irritated with you, there's only one way of doing things for him. He needs structure, rules, objectives, and a team; otherwise, he can't do the job. You and I, we didn't have structure, rules, and objectives. We did it on our own. That scares him. The fact that you've never been in the military makes him think of you as a civilian. To him, that means you need protection. It's not you he doesn't trust. It's his training and viewpoint telling him one thing, when he has to do another."

"So what should I do?" he asks me. The weariness his voice reminds me of the time he was stuck in that human trafficking case.

"Do what you did today." I reply making sure my voice is firm. "All you have to do is make sure you protect your partner, and occasionally help Sam and me out of a jam. Sam just needs time to realize you are dependable and committed to us."

He huffs and shakes his head. "Following you all to Romania hasn't proved my commitment to this team?"

My mind flashes to a moment like this one from years ago. I was in Serbia with Gibbs and Jenny. We'd just met on the first job, and I had garroted a man who'd tried to take Jenny and sell her to the highest bidder. It's a terrible way to kill, but Jenny was worth another scar on my soul. Gibbs and I had another fight. I remember asking the same question Deeks is asking me. Before I know it, I hear Gibbs' voice coming out of my mouth.

"It has!" I answer, wondering when my throat got so raw. He rolls his eyes, and I lean in closer. "It has!" I repeat wishing I could brand my meaning into his skull. I should have told him this before we ever left the states. I feel shame begin to crawl over me, but I don't have time for it now.

He stares at me, his jaw is tight, and his eyes are hard. He's searching for any sign that I could be patronizing him. I don't blame him. I should have given him the whole story about Dom on day one. I didn't want to tear open wounds that had just started to close. I put my friendship and loyalty to Sam and Kensi above the interests of the team as a whole. I find it incredible that even with that injustice, this man risked his life for Hetty, the team, and me. One day I'll have to ask Hetty how she manages to find such extraordinary people.

After a while, he sees that I'm giving it to him straight. I don't do 'touchy-feely,' so this is as good as it gets. I see his lips shift into a grin and relax. "So just how many times do I have to save the day before the Big Guy likes me?" he asks.

I laugh; I can't help it. This man's limitless capacity for joy and humor affects everyone he meets. "He likes you. He just has to get over the fact that you're a civilian. Once he does, you'll see, he'll come around."

He frowns and rolls his eyes. "He doesn't give you or Kensi crap about it."

That statement surprises me. "Kensi's in the Reserves. She's Marine green, born and bred. She didn't tell you?"

A brief flash of anger appears on his face then vanishes. "So that's why she goes to the base every other weekend. I thought it was to see friends and family. Callen, I swear sometimes I could ring her neck!"

I grin, hoping it will lessen the sting he feels. "She doesn't let any of us into that part of her life, Deeks. She probably just didn't think about telling you. Come on, you've known her long enough to realize if she's not on the job, she's as scatterbrained as they come."

He chuckles. "Hey! That's my partner you're talking about. I'll deal with her in my own way."

The affection that fills his voice is palpable. There's a spark in his eyes that he's desperate to cover up, but it's impossible. I've seen the real thing, and it can't be hidden. Even when the thing ends, if it's real it won't be hidden. I'd tell him about Rule 12, however, I'm not completely without social graces. I'll find another time to torment him. He'll be that much more relieved when he discovers I don't enforce it. It's always good to have a friend owe you one.

I shake my head and sigh, letting a hint of mockery in my voice. "I'm not mopping the blood when she guts you like a fish, Deeks."

He smiles and finishes off his first beer. "Why doesn't Sam get on you about being a civilian?"

Now I roll my eyes. He must be more buzzed than I first thought. "Deeks, I was in the Navy!"

I didn't think eyes could get as wide as his do. He starts shaking his head, and babbling. "You, in a uniform for real! You taking orders and saluting, and- no way man I can't see that! No way! I can see you as a CIA assassin, I can see you in DEA, I can even see you in a cheap FBI suit… but I cannot see you as an Officer. Besides, you told those SEALS you never served!"

The whole thing is so comical that the only reason I'm not rolling on the floor laughing is because of what's on that floor. "Those SEALS took one look at me and saw one thing, NCIS. Hating me helped Sam establish a bond. I look at it as a lie for the greater good; and I never said I was an Officer. I was enlisted; I didn't even go for Striker."

"Now, you're talking gibberish!" he grumbles.

"This is why you make Sam so nervous," I tease. "I enlisted an hour after I signed the papers releasing me from the system. I spent five years as an EM. That's Electrician's Mate to you. I did time on two Carriers: the USS Kitty Hawk and USS Theodore Roosevelt. You wouldn't believe how angry the kitchen staff would get if the Skipper didn't get his toast on time."

He laughs and I'm relieved. I'll have to talk to Sam about his snobbery. I know he means well, but at times, he does go a tad overboard with the military pride. "What was it like?" I hear Deeks ask, as if I'd been on the moon.

I've told people about my time in the Navy. Not many, but I've told Sam and Gibbs. Mike Renko got most of my stories when we lived on the boat. Even so, I repress the urge to fidget like I used to as a kid. I haven't had the urge in years. "I need more alcohol if I'm going to do this," I say, mentally cursing myself.

He hands me a beer with a smile. "Take your time."

I gulp down half in one swallow, grateful for my fast metabolism. "The first year was hard. I knew nothing. I went crazy now and then. I wasn't used to being in one place, sleeping in the same bed, seeing the same people every day. Being surrounded by people who weren't going to try and steal stuff I didn't have, ignore me, or hit me was surreal. Guys, (this was 1988 no women on combat vessels) would talk about sports teams, movies, women, music, movies and I'd just sit there. I never had the time, the friends, or the money for normal stuff like that. I barely finished high school. The only reason I don't have a record is because I only broke the law when I needed to eat, or someone hit me first and I was smart enough not to get caught. I volunteered for any assignment that let me work alone. The only socializing I did was in a weekly poker game that my bunkmate had."

He gives me a sly grin. "Isn't gambling illegal on ships?"

I laugh. "We didn't play for stakes. My bunkmate's name was David Webster, direct descendent of Senator Daniel Webster, as he consistently had to remind everyone. He was third generation Navy, working from the bottom up. He knew the regs backwards, and followed them. He just held the games so he could practice for liberty. The man would go ashore and come back with thousands of dollars. I guess you could say he began my real education. He asked me to teach him Russian, and he taught me French, Italian, and Spanish. He said I was too smart to be so ignorant. He gave me books, talked me into taking correspondence courses, and taught me how to party… I was never good at that, and it drove him nuts."

"You do pretty good when you have to," he replies.

I shrug. "It's not me when I have to. Anyway, there were days when I'd be out on deck late at night, contemplating jumping off just to be somewhere new. David would find me and say, 'you know, Callen, I think the G. stands for Gypsy. You've got a restless soul my friend, just like a Gypsy. Of course, maybe your dad was just enamored with burlesque, and Gypsy Rose Lee. Just remember, a Gypsy makes his home wherever he is. One day, you'll stop coming up here because you're sad, and you'll come up here because it's beautiful.' I wish I could tell him that I really am part Gypsy."

Deeks pours me a shot of Vodka and slides it over. "Why can't you?"

I know he knows the answer. I've been talking about Dave in the past tense and he wouldn't give me a shot if he didn't know what I'm about to say. "David was KIA during Desert Storm. He saved five people including yours truly. It got him the Medal of Honor."

I look up from my full shot glass into his eyes and see genuine pain and empathy there, but thankfully not one ounce of pity. "Sounds like he was a great guy," he says with a soft voice.

I drink the Vodka, but not because of the memories. I'll never forget David, but that is a wound long healed. "You would've liked him. Now you know why Sam doesn't treat me like he treats you."

"I'll keep it in mind," he said. He takes the last sip of his beer, and stands up. "I'm going to get us some water, a few people walked in that I don't know." Before he walks away, he turns to me with a solemn look on his face. "Callen, thank you."

I nod, acknowledging it for what it is. I'm glad I manage to talk a little about myself without it feeling too weird. Then again, Deeks doesn't push and that always makes it easier. When he comes back with bottles of water, I decide it's his turn. "Well, I spilled my guts and now you get to return the favor, Deeks. Tell me, what's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?