Author's Final Note: I'm sorry to say this tale has come to its conclusion. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I did re-reading each chapter everyday before posting (gosh that sounds hubris). I can't thanks everyone enough for all the helpful (and ego boosting) reviews along the way. It has really been wonderful.

When you complete this chapter, consider leaving one final review on your overall impression of the story; likes, dislikes, drifting from canon, etc. Even an old dog can learn to improve.

I know a few of you were hoping for the words "To Be Continued" rather than "The End" and sorry, you are going to be disappointed; this tale just feels complete to me. However, I have taken fingers to the screen (the modern equivalent of pen to the paper) and started the next story. However, you know I am not a fast writer (think turtle in peanut-butter patch typing with three fingers), so hang in there. I promise, I will be back. And those of you that create, please keep writing your wonderful FF. I so love to read a good Callen story!

Sam wasn't surprised, when he entered the bullpen, to see he was the second to last person to arrive. It had been a long drive, they had gotten home late, and if Callen was as tired as he had been, his partner wouldn't roll into until about 10:00. Sam had spent an extra few minutes with his family in this morning, making up for his absence, hence his late arrival. He hadn't seen Hetty at her desk as he strolled by, but Kensi and Deeks were in the bullpen and cheerfully greeted him, while simultaneous busting his chops on his tardiness.

As Sam predicted, just shy of 10:00, Callen strolled into the bullpen, where he was greeted warmly with a hug by Kensi, a firm handshake and chop-busting by Deeks and after a quick scrutiny by Sam, small nod of acknowledgment; Sam thought his partner overall looked well-rested and alert.

"So, pirates," Deeks drawled, after Callen had sat down at his desk. "Did they wear red bandanas and carry a cutlass?"

"Actually, Deeks," Callen's replied without even glancing up from his laptop screen, "they looked like you, just better groomed."

Deeks face fell to resemble that of a wounded puppy. "That really wasn't fair. I'm a very neat person."

Kensi gave a very unladylike like snort. "Only I your dreams. Wait, I take that back. I am sure they are messy too."

"Yeah, well at least my dreams not include unicorns and garden gnomes," Deeks retorted and Kensi gave him a hurt, shocked look.

"That was only once, and I told that to you in confidence," Kensi hissed.

"My bad," Deeks replied even though it was clear to everyone he was not the least bit contrite. Turning his attention back on Callen's, he asked in his best Johnny Depp voice, "So tell us of your adventures on the high seas matey."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "I'll give you an adventure."

"What?," Deeks complained. "Callen's boat gets hijacked by modern day pirates and you fault me for wanting to hear the details?"

To try halt any further inane discussions, Kensi turned her chair towards Callen. "You know if you don't tell him he will be impossible to deal with the rest of the day."

Callen sighed, then regaled them with his tale of his advsntures on the high-seas. He glossed over part where he got injured, but a glance in Sam's direction told him he wasn't fooling his partner.

"Only you go on a pleasure cruise and run into pirates off the coast of California," Sam remarked, his tone weary. His partner was a walking trouble magnet. "I'm surprised you haven't been injured getting your morning coffee."

Callen got a smug look on his face. "Actually I did, once in Russia. It was only a flesh wound. Some crazy Russian ordered this complicated coffee, and the server got it wrong. So the nut job pulls out a gun and starts waving it around."

"And you had to stop him," Sam remarked drily.

"Of course," Callen replied as if Sam was crazy for even asking. "How else was I going to get my morning coffee."

"So you got shot and hauled away in an ambulance, and you didn't get your cup of coffee after all."

"That's where you are wrong Sam. This was Russia. The medics gave me a band-aid and the store owner was so grateful, he gave me free coffee for life." Callen sat back in his chair looking very pleased with himself.

"Good to know, if we are ever in Russia. That you can get free coffee though I thought you prefer tea, the loose kind," Sam sarcastically remarked.

Callen shrugged. "I'm adaptable." Further conversation was halted by a summonings.

"Mr. Callen. A word," drifted over the bullpen, and 'she who must be obeyed', beckoned. Good-naturedly, Callen went to take whatever Hetty was going to dish out. He supposed he had it coming.

It was a rather civilized had offered him a cup of tea, which he wisely accepted and she had inquired about his physical well-being, which he answered truthfully with only a few minor omissions.

With the civilized part of the ritual over, she then laid into him about being AWOL, having to use government resources to track him down, reminding him that the SF-71 was the proper way to take leave, which, by-the-way, was supposed to be submitted and signed by the supervisor before the leave was taken and finally provided a threat as to what would happen to his body and soul if he ever did this again.

Callen sat there, nodded in the right places, and tried to keep a smug smile from appearing on his face. Luckily, the clanking of a cow-bell, followed by a 'let's moooooove it' drifted across the room as Eric found another way to alert them they had a new case. Leaving Hetty behind, Callen happily sprinted for the stairs and back to what passed as normalcy for him and his team.

THE END