Two weeks later

At D minus one, the attack on the FBI Building on Wilshire was called off. Callen, Lyneham and Ariel had debated at length as to whether the plans were solid enough with the time and current resources they had available. The team were due to enter the building as the vending machine maintenance company, restocking, repairing and replacing the machines on various floors. Smoke bombs and tear gas were to be planted inside and timed to go off mid-afternoon, coinciding with peak visiting times. They had struggled to develop and obtain the tangible elements required, namely vending machines, vans and generally the coordination required for a such a risky and in-depth op. Callen argued that by not attacking any federal facilities per se, they might lull the federal agencies in to a false sense of security so they would let down their defences, which could make their plans a little easier to execute next time. Ariel to her credit, actually listened without adding any sarcastic comments and together with Lyneham, they agreed to focus on the Social Services Office, and using kids to egg various downtown institutions, thereby leading the Feds to believe it was the welfare of children which was the main concern of the campaign.

Callen's position within the upper echelons was no longer in question. His experience and natural ability to view a mission from all possible angles had impressed both Ariel and Lyneham. Deeks too had been surprised to see how Callen operated without the support of his crack team of federal agents at NCIS, who were used to bouncing ideas off each other. The three, minus Deeks, had formed their own elite group, often meeting in the evening to discuss plans, their conversations lasting in to the early hours of the morning. Callen still did not trust Ariel and he suspected the feeling was mutual but at least the open hostility from her had now ceased.

Ariel watched Callen as he walked back towards the ranch. It was early evening and dinner was due to be served shortly. There was an alcohol ban to ensure everyone was on top form for the next day's actions and a curfew of 9pm was in place. Anyone caught breaking either directive would be confined to the barn's newly enforced upstairs room.

'Where the hell is Anton? He should have been back two days ago.' Ariel turned to face Lyneham, placing her hands on her hips. She exuded an air of calm and patience with Callen, which had been surprisingly easy. It was the unpredictability of Anton DuValle which was causing her anxiety.

'I don't know.' Lyneham replied. 'He knows the timeline. Tomorrow's the day and there's no way he would miss this. He's invested too much time and money. Maybe he's just focusing on stage three and working with the militia on securing new weapons. Those guys left pretty quickly after DuValle went.' Even though Lyneham had uttered his words with conviction, he didn't believe them and knew Ariel wouldn't either.

'No.' Ariel shook her head in disagreement. 'He holds a grudge. I wouldn't put it past him to try and sabotage tomorrow in some small way.'

'That would only weaken our cause. He wouldn't do that.'

'Are you sure? We had Anton and his anger under control until Rob arrived and opened his big mouth. We now have no idea what he's up to. You should never have agreed to him going up north.'

'You weren't entirely innocent yourself?' Lyneham reminded Ariel, smiling slightly when she bristled at the accusation.

Ariel raised her eyebrows. 'We need him back.'

'I know. He's not answering my calls, or picking up messages or emails. We'll just have to carry on regardless.'

'We need him to return so we can start training for the real attacks.'

'And after that he can disappear for good. Hell, I might just have to kill him myself.' Lyneham smiled grimly as Ariel nodded her agreement this time.

Anton DuValle waited at the boundary of the ranch. He had avoided the only road that passed the property and approached from the rear, across the scrub land and through the trees. He waited just inside the tree line, beyond the horizon and out of sight from prying eyes. His anger at Rob and Ariel had long passed. Instead he had focused on his rather last minute orders to visit their militia friends in the north of the state, travelling with Patrick, Tom and Al. In place of his anger was a cold desire for revenge. He had spent much of the last two weeks planning how he would show Ariel that she had crossed the wrong man, that blackmail would only take her so far. Once he had finished with Ariel he would lie low, disappear for a while - at least to remove himself from the forefront of Josh Lyneham and Rob Gladstone's minds before paying them a visit.

He had a mole in the camp who had been feeding him information over the last fortnight and he was satisfied his suspicions had proven to be correct. Rob was tighter than ever with Josh, and Ariel had been spending an increasing amount of time in their company. Apparently she had even smiled a couple of times at Rob. Miracles can happen, DuValle smiled grimly to himself. She wouldn't be smiling when he had finished with her and neither would the others. Revenge was a dish best served cold, so the old saying went and DuValle had now dispelled with his emotions. He knew the drill that Ariel would impose on the ranch; the early dinner, alcohol ban, the curfew, everyone confined to their lodgings and God forbid anyone who broke the rules. The punishment was imprisonment in a small windowless room with a door locked from the outside. He himself had enforced this punishment six months ago with Thomason, who'd been an absolute mess when he was released twelve hours later. The kid hadn't stopped shaking for days after. DuValle glanced at his watch and saw the time was approaching half eight. He had already decided he would wait until the early hours of the morning before making his move. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the horizon, seeing nothing to cause him concern. There was very little activity which did not surprise him as most people would already be in their rooms. Scuffling slowly backwards and erring on the side of caution, DuValle blended into the trees and holed up. Waiting.

Deeks stared at Callen who was sitting quietly in the armchair, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the arm. There had barely been any opportunity for them to catch up in recent days, their respective tasks keeping them very much separate. He had little understanding of what their move was after the attack. He knew Callen had fed the team information on the locations but neither knew of the plans the team were making in ops or if they were involving any other law enforcement agencies. They might be allowed to escape with the others which would see them undercover for the long haul. The alternative was for them to be arrested with everyone else. Deeks pondered the options. They had more than enough evidence on the group to ensure the leaders were convicted and spent the rest of their lives behind bars. There were risks of course. Whoever was backing up NCIS could become trigger happy so he and Callen would need to take care they were not caught in the crossfire. Even though he had strangely enjoyed the undercover mission, he would be thankful to get home and into Kensi's arms. Deeks opened his mouth to say "Callen", then checked himself and closed it again. He'd been so engrossed in his thoughts he had almost blew their cover with one careless word. Paranoia was contagious.

'I don't think you've ever been so quiet in your life.' Callen's voice broke the silence. 'Goldfish impersonations now is it?'

Deeks broke into a broad smile. 'You remind me of that old lady we used to know. Y'know the one. She had eyes in the back of her head, knew everything about everyone's actions without even being in the room and before they even happened.'

Callen met Deeks' stare and returned the smile. 'I was thinking about her the other day. Couldn't make up my mind if she was a witch or a technological genius, black magic or planting mini-cameras and microphones everywhere.'

'I bet you'd never be brave enough to say that to her face. I 'd love to see her reaction if she could hear you now.'

'Knowing my luck she probably can. So what were you thinking when you were staring at me just now?'

'Well, I was just wondering what will happen if this all goes wrong. I mean if it goes right, then we regroup and plan for the next stage. If it goes wrong...'

'If it goes wrong we either get the hell out of Dodge or keep our mouths shut and serve our time.'

Callen stood up and placed a reassuring hand on Deeks' shoulder as he walked by. He wasn't sure what had prompted Deeks to suddenly voice concerns about the possible fallout of the next day's mission. He could only think that he finally had time to assess their situation and nerves were settling in. He certainly hoped Deeks would perk up tomorrow as adrenaline kicked in - the last thing he needed was to have to look out for his partner any more than usual. Tomorrow dictated they both be on top of their game as there was no way of knowing how it would play out.

'Where are you going?' Deeks asked.

'Bed.'

'What! Why aren't you sleeping in the chair?'

'You do know I've slept in that bed every night since we've been here.'

'No way.' Deeks said, moving to join Callen in the shared bedroom. 'Not even once have I fallen asleep or woken up with you sleeping or even lying on that bed.'

'Just because you haven't seen me doesn't mean it hasn't happened.' Callen said, sitting down on the single bed which, to Deeks' trained eye had not seen the weight of a body in recent months.

'And I thought I was meant to be the baby brother in this relationship. You're like Jekyll and Hyde, switching from scary intensity to downright ridiculous.'

'I'm not quite sure that is an accurate interpretation of Jekyll and Hyde. Look, it's gonna be a long night, best get some rest. And make sure you don't sleep talk tonight.' Callen kicked off his shoes and lay on his back with his hands behind his head.

'I do not talk in my sleep...and don't you wake up and start practicing your Russian or Serbian or whatever the hell languages you can speak. And don't go a wandering.'

Deeks stripped to his boxers and slid under the covers. He glanced over at Callen and saw through the mid evening light that he had closed his eyes. Despite what Callen had said, he would lay money that he had not slept in that bed during their entire time undercover. He wondered how he could live like that and why he did not have permanent backache. Deeks glanced at his watch. The time had just ticked past nine and although they had both usually asleep before eleven - as far as he knew - he had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

Callen woke with a start and sat bolt upright, cocking his head to one side as he tried to focus on what he had heard or sensed. The room was pitch black and he estimated the time to be around two in the morning. He glanced across at Deeks, aware the younger man was having some kind of nightmare. He could hear him tossing and turning, murmuring words he could barely make out. His own sleep was sometimes broken with vivid dreams and nightmares. It was one reason why he slept in short bursts and survived on little sleep. No, he thought, it wasn't Deeks who had awoken him and he quietly arose. He had slept fully clothed and gently prodded the floor with his toes until he found his boots. Picking them up, he slowly walked to the bedroom door and with a quick glimpse back, Callen was content he had not disturbed his partner. He could already hear Deeks' breathing become more regular as the bad dream passed.

In the living room, Callen felt along the shelving unit until he found the flashlight he had placed there earlier. Most of the lamp was taped over so only a tiny slither of light would show. He had no idea how much surveillance was in their lodgings and he was convinced it had been repeatedly searched in recent weeks. He had always been of the opinion that rules existed to provide him with a challenge, an antidote to boredom and with those thoughts at the forefront of his mind, Callen crept out of his lodgings and made his way to the main ranch's building. He was still concerned about the next day's plans. The operation involved a number of different elements and he did not have the safety net of knowing his own team were in control or supporting him. Still, he had been in worse predicaments and survived. Clearing the doubts from his mind, he carefully stepped towards the door and turned the handle. Locked. Seems they were serious about the rules after all, he thought with a wry smile. Callen took his lock pick from his pocket and crouched down. Seconds later he stepped inside, closed the door and stood still. Instinct and experience took over and he could sense no other presence. Callen made his way to the kitchen where he knew all the documents for the operation were left lying on the table, making his life a touch easier.

He reorganised the documents, building schematics and various other diagrams and plans across the width of the table. He had no resource to write down his thoughts or even to amend the already agreed plans with minor improvements and so he stood leaning over the table, resting his hands on the backs of the chairs and concentrated. He had already committed to memory the details of the imminent operation and he now put in to play the skills he had acquired through the many years spent with various government agencies. He quietly analysed and walked himself through as many scenarios as he could muster, regardless of the fact the same exercise had repeatedly been conducted with the team earlier. He mentally noted the slight changes he could make that would keep them all slightly safer at the welfare office and was about to focus on Deeks and Raider's areas of responsibility - the kids and general mischief making - when the sounds from the front door made him stop in his tracks. Switching off the flashlight Callen silently moved to the side of the large dresser and crouched down. He was thankful he locked the door behind him and smiled when he heard the repeated sounds of scratches around the lock and its mechanism. Clearly whoever was trying to get in was not experienced in the area of breaking and entering. At least it ruled out the possibility that Deeks had woken up and followed him. Minutes later he heard the door gently creak open and the sound of footsteps gingerly walking in to the room. He thought it was a male from the tread, which made sense in such a male dominated community. He couldn't see Ariel or any of the other women going for a midnight stroll and picking locks. A flashlight was switched on, one without any tape over the lamp and Callen inched further back into the crevice between the dresser and the corner of the kitchen. He was glad he made the impulsive decision to crouch down. It would allow him to spring up at the intruder, giving him the element of surprise and secondly, he knew from experience that flashlights were usually swung around the room at waist and chest height. He listened carefully and watched as the light grew brighter as it approached the kitchen. As he thought, the man only glanced the light around the kitchen and seeing nothing untoward, retreated. Callen held his breath and heard the man ascend the stairs. Callen hadn't seen any need to venture to the first floor but he knew there were several bedrooms and bathrooms. He nimbly moved to the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Anton DuValle.

Callen cursed internally. If DuValle was here, sneaking around then there was a serious reason. He knew DuValle had supposedly been missing for the last two weeks. The official story was DuValle was visiting some contacts on the East coast and planning the procurement of more weapons. The unofficial story was he had stormed off after the confrontation with him and Ariel and he was AWOL. Callen knew which version he believed. DuValle was unpredictable and the fact he decided to turn up unannounced, broke into the ranch and was sneaking upstairs where the sleeping quarters were reserved for selected people...Callen's eyes widened in sudden understanding. The people sleeping in the ranch would be vulnerable, at risk from someone like DuValle. Callen reached into the side of his boot and felt for his switchblade. It was the only weapon he had brought with him to the ranch and he flicked it open, trying to work out who the target could be. The only person he could think of was Ariel. She may project an air of invincibility but Callen knew she had something on DuValle, something that meant she was untouchable. Until now. She must really have pushed him too far.