Chapter Eight: "Hatred is blind; rage carries you away; and he who pours out vengeance runs the risk of tasting a bitter draught."

Just as Sam fired the van's ignition, there was a banging on the back door. Deeks, who was sitting the back with Kensi and Matt opened the door.

"I'm going with you," Chegwidden said as he started climbing in the van. "The cute computer couple has Nassir and Thompson watching over them." The Admiral was wearing an NCIS bulletproof vest, carrying an AR-15 and his cellphone.

"Admiral," Callen said from the front passenger seat. "Are you sure..."

"Granger, Bridges, Langston, Hetty and myself - we've spent a lifetime watching each other's backs. Granger is the reason I'm here. I'm not letting the man down by explaining I sent his final team to rescue Henrietta as I sat on my ass watching on the action on a television screen."

"Welcome aboard, sir," Matt said as he strapped on his on loan NCIS bulletproof vest.

Sam started driving toward the boat shed.

"So what's the plan?" the Admiral asked.

"Janvier likes explosives," Kensi explained. "He blew up Lauren Hunter, nearly did the same to Sam, Deeks and me."

"And don't forget Gerald Munson," Deeks added.

"Not forgetting that anytime soon," Matt said more to himself than the others.

"We need to assume every part of the boat shed is wired to blow," Sam said. "Hetty could be sitting on an explosive pressure plate or there could be lasers or wires to trip."

"Janvier has to know we're coming," Deeks said. "As paranoid as the man is, he would have noticed when the cameras came to life."

"He's waiting," Callen said. "He's likes the sea air and I sent him to the middle of Iran and Florence Supermax in landlocked Colorado."

"We, Callen, we," Sam corrected. "We sent him."

"So he's sending you Christmas cards?" Callen asked.

"Wait, what?" Deeks said.

"He's sending you Christmas cards?" Kensi was amazed.

"Every year," Callen told the group.

"My mother's family Christmas letter is now no longer the most unwanted delivery in the history of holiday mail," Matt joked.

"So he knows where you live," the Admiral noted.

"His revenge was always going to be against me but just not first. When we realized who he was, Janvier called and said he knew who mattered to me. If the hired goons didn't fail, I'm sure Kensi and Nell would be sitting on either side of Hetty."

"Not Agent Brown?" Matt asked.

"Amy's a good agent and someone we all like to work with but not she was never part of the team the way Kensi and Nell are," Callen explained. "No, the plan would always be to get even with her for her part in his trip to Iran. As awful as it sounds, the vest was his rather impersonal way to get rid of someone."

"Like Munson," Sam said.

"That seemed personal to me," Matt said. "Blowing someone up seems personal."

"So everything is rigged, what else should I be concerned with," Chegwidden got back on track.

"The trap door," Kensi said.

The Admiral chuckled. "Ah, Henrietta and her trap doors, escape hatches and secret staircases."

"Saved me a couple of years ago," Deeks said, thinking about Bruce Steadman.

"Same here. FBI got Duggan killed and Hetty and I left through the trap door so we wouldn't be next," Kensi said.

"The hidden staircase in the Bel Air mansion is a little tight," Sam noted.

"You fill a room," Callen teased.

"Certainly filled that staircase," Sam agreed.

"How do we get in to secure the trap door?" Matt asked. "And once it is secure and we've got everyone in custody, can I try it? I've missed out on the trap door experience."

"Only if you're good," Deeks said. "Kensi and I go in through the second floor? That worked with Granger when he first showed up."

"No," Sam said. "Admiral, if I remember correctly, one of your area of expertise was sharp shooting. When was the last time you were at the range?"

"Sterling belongs to Burbank Rifle."

"Of course he does," Sam said.

"We spent a few hours there last month," Chegwidden said.

"And?" Sam asked.

"He misses you terribly Chief Hanna and I can still drop a man from 600 feet."

"Good to know," Kensi said.

Sam drove past the boat shed's parking lot and to the marina nearby.

"Deeks, you're up first."

"Where's he going?" Matt asked.

"I'm going for a swim."

Deeks ran from the van to the side of the boat shed. Opening the biometric lock on the storage cabinet, he removed his wetsuit, an underwater light along with the underwater camera and communications rig. Five minutes later, he was swimming to the trap door's ladder.

"Watch for trip wires," Sam warned as he got closer to the hatch.

Swimming close, he saw the door's rope tied and placed just as Hetty wanted it this week - she had them change it every Monday. If Janvier was down here at any point, he never touched the door.

"Go up?" Deeks typed on camera's tablet.

"No, secure the door," Callen instructed. "That way he can't escape."

"Neither can we," Deeks typed back before he started securing the locks around the door.

"We'll meet you in marina behind the parking lot, Deeks," Sam said. "Good work. Get out there and back into your clothes. We'll meet you at the entrance to the boat shed's parking lot."

Deeks walked up to a grim group. "So what's the plan?"

"Before we discuss any plan, I'd like to ask a question," Chegwidden said. "Speaking as a civilian who has seen the terror and violence this man has unleashed and not a federal agent or a sworn member of local law enforcement..."

"You don't want to bring him in alive," Kensi finished his thought.

"He was in a supermax prison with limited access to the world and yet his brought all this upon this team," Chegwidden continued. "I'm not saying we walk in and murder the man. I am saying that if there is cause for lethal action, it might be wise to take it."

"He tried suicide by cop once," Callen said. "I don't want to give him what he wants."

"Not concerned about wants," Chegwidden replied. "I'm more concerned for the greater good not just for your team but for the havoc he's wreaked just in the last two days."

"No, we're going to send him back to that hole and make damn sure that everyone around him is as honest as the day is long," Sam added. "He's going to know whatever time he has left in this world will be spent in that dank little cell with his long planned revenge against this team as big a failure as he is."

"But if it is him or you," Kensi said to Matt and the Admiral.

"It's him," Deeks confirmed. "Definitely him."

"Deeks, Bernhart, you're going in through the main door. Callen and I will come up through the back. We won't go in until Kensi and the Admiral are upstairs and in position."

"Let's do this," the Admiral said as he and Kensi made their way to the structure's external stairs.

Deeks and Matt found their way to the boat shed's main entrance, leaving Callen and Sam near the back entrance.

"We're in," Kensi whispered.

"Go now," Sam told them. Callen and Sam ran into the back door, crossing into the room with their guns drawn.

Kensi and the Admiral were on the second floor balcony with their guns drawn as well.

Deeks and Matt joined the team with Deeks sliding the bolt lock to the interrogation room closed. The easiest way to keep Janvier away from the trap door was to lock the room.

"Hetty?" Callen said as he got near her. "Lasers? Wires?"

"No. Much more low tech. If everyone could stay on the other side of the coffee table, I think that would be for the best," Hetty said calmly.

"Henrietta?" Chegwidden asked, disregarding her request. Standing to her left, he said, "Oh my."

Matt was close by Hetty's right side. "On the green thing, what does 'front toward enemy' mean? Because it sounds bad."

"It is bad," Sam said. "It means when that green thing, a M18 Claymore mine, is triggered to explodes, the front side explodes at the target - the enemy."

"Me," Hetty made clear as Chegwidden walked over toward Matt.

"What does that do, exactly," Matt whispered to the Admiral. "I'm new to all this military stuff."

"A little C4 helps shoot about 700 tiny steel balls at whatever 'front toward enemy' is facing at great speed. At 50-meters, each ball is the equivalent of being hit by a .22 caliber bullet."

"That's not good," Matt mused.

"If you would all be so kind, as to all move to the other side of the coffee table," Hetty asked. "I'm fine here, despite what that evil son of a bitch believes."

"Where is Janvier," both Callen and Sam asked simultaneously.

"I saw Mr. Deeks lock him into interrogation when he and Detective Bernhart entered the boat shed. I would imagine that won't make him happy."

"Oh, crap," Deeks said as he ran to unlock the door. Sam was right behind him.

As Deeks put his hand on the lock Sam stopped him. "Slowly," Sam mouthed to Deeks.

Deeks eased the lock back. On three, Sam opened the door and barged in with Deeks pulling up the rear.

"Agent Hanna," Javier said, sitting on the "wrong" side of the table. "Surprised to see you and Detective Deeks."

"We were always going to find you," Sam said.

"No, the surprise was that Isaak allowed you both to live. He had a well-earned reputation of making sure those who crossed him pay in the most painful and ultimately fatal way. Yet, I heard both you and Detective Deeks survived your time in his tender mercies."

"He didn't survive his time with me," Sam said. "Put your hands up. Or should I say hand and stump."

Sidorov turned to Sam and Deeks, showing his right hand. He was holding something.

"Drop it," Deeks said.

"I don't think Ms. Lange would like that," Sidorov told him. "it would have an, ah, explosive result."

"Deadman's switch," Sam said.

"Back out of the room," Janvier ordered. "This was always such an intimate space when it was just me with Agent Callen. It is even smaller with the two of you here."

Sam tilted his head, signaling Deeks to the door. Once Deeks backed out, Sam followed.

"Don't shoot him," Sam said as he and Deeks backed into the boat shed's main room. "He drops that trigger..."

"This blows," Hetty said. "Literally and figuratively."

Janvier walked into the main room, met by guns pointed at him by the team. "Agent Callen, so good to see you once again. I told you once the game was not over."

"It was never a game," Callen said.

"Oh, but it is. And it is one I intend to win."

"You're surrounded by cops and agents, all pointing guns at you," Bernhart said. "You blow up your clayton..."

"Claymore," Chegwidden corrected.

"You blow up your bomb, this building is shot. Looks cool but I grew up with boats. NCIS can secure the structure as much as they want. What's underneath is for shit. Moves with earthquakes, drunk boat enthusiasts hitting the pilings, damaging them. You blow this place and we're all going into the drink. You think you can swim away faster than we can shoot, Righty? We'll be fine, you'll be dead."

"Maybe not Ms. Lange

"Hetty get up," Callen said. "Walk to our side of the coffee table." Walking to Janvier, he placed the AR-15 to Janvier's forehead. "Move."

"No," Janvier replied.

Chegwidden's phone pinged. "Ah, good news."

"Admiral?" Sam asked.

"Agent Callen, I need a second with your prisoner." Chegwidden said.

"I am nobody's prisoner," Janvier said.

"Fifty-fifty on that. I do know someone who is one-hundred perfect in custody," Chegwidden said. Holding up the phone to Janvier, Chegwidden had a photo of a young woman's mug shot. She was obviously crying, looking tired as she wore what seemed to be a pajama top.

"Adeline," Janvier gasped.

"One of my favorite officers when I was the Judge Advocate General for the US Navy was a reservist who is a bigtime AUSA in New York. She put away heads of three of the five families of the Mob, four Russian crime lords and enough big-time drug dealers to populate a big village in Columbia. I've heard from friends in New York that she's the scariest person in the city. And New Yorkers don't scare easy. Tonight, she had your daughter arrested for theft and fraud. Seems she's been skimming from her clients in her personal shopper business."

"That's a lie," Janvier said.

"When your partner Fisk was taken into custody, NCIS called NYPD and had his man tailing Adeline arrested," Chegwidden said.

"Thank God," Janvier was visibly relieved.

"At the same time, I made a phone call to the AUSA's office. I asked them to look into your daughter's finances. If Adeline skimmed any money from her clients, and with the forensic accountants the New York office has, they'll find something. They always do. And since her clients are the daughters of hedge fund managers, stock brokers and the like - people who often run afoul of the New York AUSA's office, having charges pressed and witness availability for any trials are pretty much guaranteed to keep the New York office happy."

"She's going to get Al Capone'd," Deeks said. "They always get them for the financial crimes."

"No, so much more than that," Chegwidden continued. "If she put any money into any account you had access too, hell, your canteen account at Florence Supermax - she'll be an accessory to kidnapping, attempted kidnapping, murder, attempted murder. Knowing my former officer, she will not only charge your daughter with financial crimes but with everything you've done. And also knowing her, she'll convict your daughter. While you rot in your cell, she'll rot in Bedford Hills."

Callen moved back toward Janvier. "Move."

Chegwidden walked over to Hetty and helped her from the couch. Several hours of sitting she was a little stiff. Janvier replaced her on the couch. Hetty sat at the main room's table.

"Call the bomb squad," Chegwidden said.

As Kensi started to pull out her phone, Janvier smiled. "This ended just as I hoped," Janvier said.

Sam looked at the claymore and then Janvier. Jumping over the coffee table, Sam grabbed at Janvier's hand. "He reverse engineered the claymore," Sam yelled as he struggled with Janvier.

"Reverse engineered, what?" Deeks asked.

"The Claymore is going to blow facing us," Hetty said.

"Oh, the hell it is," Chegwidden said. Picking up the mine, he ran to the door facing the water. Deeks opened the door ahead of the Admiral.

"I played varsity baseball," Matt yelled. "I should throw it into the water."

The Admiral didn't answer. Instead, he tossed the mine high into the air over the water.

The mine exploded just as it hit the water, causing the dock to shake and a wave of water to wash toward the boat shed. The Admiral, Deeks, Matt and Kensi were soaked.

Walking up to Matt, the Admiral put his arm around the detective. "Son, I was drafted by the Cleveland Indians as a pitcher back in the day. I can still bring the heat."

Matt smiled. "Martin, you need to spend more time with quality men like Admiral, lawyer, fireballer AJ and less time with your usual company."

"Speaking of which," Kensi said, running toward the door. Deeks, Matt and Chegwidden followed.

Callen stood over Janvier, who was flat on his stomach, arms and legs spread apart. Hetty sat at the main table with a tea cup in front of her. Sam was making tea.

Kensi joined Callen on Janvier watch.

"Anyone hurt?" Hetty asked.

"A few fish likely have some holes but we're fine," Chegwidden said.

"That son of a bitch told me he had Miss Blye, Miss Jones and Miss Brown killed. Obviously Miss Blye is fine."

"More than fine," Deeks said with some pride. "She was great in all this. As always."

"Nell worked all day to get us here. Deeks interrupted her abduction. Amy is in the hospital. She killed one of her kidnappers but wound up being caught up in all this. She's going to be fine."

"But is looking for a transfer to Crete," Deeks added.

"I'll make sure she's assigned wherever her heart takes her," Hetty said.

"Kensi killed her two kidnappers," Callen added.

"Always the overachiever, Miss Blye," Hetty said with pride.

"Next time I'll send more," Janvier promised.

"Not going to be a next time," Sam also made a promise. "The justice system once again has plans for you."

"As I have plans for you. All of you," Janvier swore. "You two newcomers. too. I have nothing but time to plan my revenge."

"But not likely the access or the funds. Sit and plan all you like. That is all you're ever going to do," Callen said. With the sirens in the background, just under twenty-four hours after it started, Marcel Janvier's revenge attack on NCIS was over and the only causalities were on his side.

Matt made his way over to Deeks. "So any chance I get to use the trap door once everyone leaves. I'm already wet."

"Detective Bernhart, it would be an honor to watch you swim to the shore," Hetty said with a smile.

Four months later,
Florence CO.

Marcel Janvier shuffled his way into his cell in in ADX Florence Supermax. His guilty plea to the additional charges for his anti-NCIS Office of Special Projects walk about added one life sentence and 70-years to his incarceration. Judge Valerie Jackson had those sentences run consecutive and not concurrent to his three life sentences. Judge Jackson not only wanted to guarantee Janvier stay in custody, she issued an order to the Federal Bureau of Prisons to come up with a detention plan that was not only constitutional but iron clad.

Inside his cell waiting was G. Callen. "I have a feeling of deja vu. Eight feet wide, eleven feet long. 23-hour a day lockdown. Your life spent in here. Priceless."

"I'm surprised you're back, Agent Callen."

"I'm not," Sam said from outside the cell. "He had today circled on his calendar and he doesn't have much on his calendar."

"You didn't come last time," Janvier noted.

"Had other plans and at the time, I thought it was a bad idea," Sam replied. "Wouldn't miss this one, though."

"Why a bad idea?" Janvier wondered

"As a person, you're not worth my time."

"And now," Janvier asked Sam.

"There are some things that need to be made clear and I'm here to help with that."

Kensi walked up alongside Sam. "I was out of the country last time Callen was here. I would have tagged along."

"I wasn't invited last time," Deeks said as he stood next to Kensi. "Probably would have checked the surf reports before committing. I do so love that sea air. Soothes any mouth discomfort I occasionally suffer."

"You all must have enjoyed that two-hour plane flight just for this," Janvier said.

"It is fun to fly anywhere," Kensi said. "Fun to go outside, fun to eat where we want, when we want. Fun to decide what different clothes we want to wear. What we want to do with our lives as opposed to living a limited and uniformed existence. And for the record, orange isn't really the new black - that color does little for you."

"Are we done?" Janvier asked.

"No, I just wanted to introduce you to the team who will be guarding you. In cooperation with the US Navy and the Marines, your guards are all now former military who were working in the prison system. They know that you tried to help a Russian sell nuclear weapons to the Iranians. That didn't sit well with them," Sam said.

"And since you got chatty with Clarence Fisk when he was sent here, your opportunity to make friends will be limited. This cell corridor will have one resident - you," Deeks told him. "You'll be able to meet and mingle with your fellow inmates during your hour of yard time but the inmates out there with you will all be interrogated and monitored after any conversations held with you. That includes a simple nod or a plain hello. I'm guessing you're not going to be all that popular."

"Now are we done?"

"Adeline took her plea. She will be a guest of the state of New York for the next decade. She only stole a few thousand dollars, a few pairs of shoes and bags but concerns of appearing in front of jury implicated in your crimes had her take ten years with no hope for parole," Callen said as he walked to the cell door. "Now we're done."

As the team walked away from the cell, they heard Janvier say, "But I am not."

Six months later,
North of Montana, Santa Monica.

Deeks and Matt were leaning against Matt's truck when Kensi's SUV pulled up. Deeks was in a black three-piece suit with a white dress shirt and dark grey tie while Matt was wearing a light grey suit, a pale blue dress shirt and a midnight blue velvet bow-tie. Both men wore dress shoes, shined within an inch of their lives.

Kensi exited her vehicle with Admiral Chegwidden leaving through the passenger side. Kensi was wearing a black MICHAEL Michael Kors mesh accented round neck dress and the same line's Faryn sandals. The Admiral was in a dark-blue sports coat, a crispy white dress shirt, light tan pant and dark brown loafers. He held a file folder in his left-hand.

"Gentlemen," the Admiral said with an extended hand. Deeks shook first. Matt went for the full bro-hug. The Admiral did not. Kensi went for the full bro-hug with Matt and a nice peck on the cheek for Deeks. "What time did AUSA Guevara say this was going to happen?"

"As soon as the boy arrives at his grandmother's," Deeks said. "No kid needs to see this."

"But I do. I like seeing bad things happen to worse people. It's my thing," Matt said with a smile.

A dark blue sedan pulled up behind Kensi's truck. Roger Bates turned off the car and joined Deeks and company. "What's this all about? AJ?" Bates was surprised.

"Roger, good to see you," Chegwidden shook Bates's hand. "Best interrogator I ever saw in action. Always wondered why he wasted his time with the Army when the Navy had so much more to offer."

"If you can't cut it as a Marine," Kensi said as an aside.

"Are we going to have a military throw down here, because my money is on her," Matt said, pointing to Kensi.

"I'm with you on that," Bates said. "So why am I here?"

"Detective Deeks was approached by your department's Internal Affairs division in a questionable investigation into you and your squad," AJ explained, handing the file folder to Bates. "Internal Affairs wanted to leverage some information they believed they had against Detective Deeks to ensure not only his cooperation but a possible unfavorable outcome for you."

"Again?" Bates was stunned. "The only person who was this crazy about taking me down was John Quinn and that was to win favor with Clarence Fisk."

"Fisk really didn't want not go back to Pelican Bay," Deeks said.

"Really didn't want to go back," Matt added. "Like willing to expose all of his remaining puppets and people still on his payroll so he didn't have to go back."

"Less willing to do all of that right off the bat," Kensi said. "More willing to do it when his wife was brought into custody with his daughter by the DEA's international division and their home and assets in Cape Verde were all seized."

"That's why you were out of the office three months ago vacationing in Cape Verde," Bates said to Matt, shaking his head. "Surfing, parasailing - that's more Deeks than you."

"I'm always willing to surf or parasail for my friend Martin," Matt said solemnly.

"So if Fisk isn't in Pelican Bay or Florence Supermax, where is he?" Bates asked.

"With this wife and child, he's going into WITSEC. He'll finish his sentence in USP Hazelton. His wife and daughter will be placed nearby. New identities, new lives," Chegwidden said. "It was the only way Deeks could secure Fisk's cooperation."

"Cooperation in what?" Bates wanted to know what was going on. "Don't tell me he had another officer in his pocket."

"Not quite," Kensi said as four dark grey Ford Taurus's pulled up to a home across the street and four doors down from Matt's truck.

"Showtime," Matt said.

AUSA Guevara exited one of the Taurus's with a small squad of FBI Agents surround the targeted house. One of the FBI Agents banged on the home's door. "Douglas Gabriel Whiting, FBI. Open the door."

The door nearly flew off its hinges. "What the hell?" Douglas Whiting was at the door, still wearing his work clothes - a dark blue suit, white shirt and red tie. "What is going on here?"

"Yes, what is going on here?" Ellen Whiting demanded. She was wearing a blue cocktail dress. "I'm LAPD. What is this all about?"

"Mr. Whiting," AUSA Guevara stated, "you're under arrested for hiding over two million dollars in assets for one Clarence Fisk. You also initiated illegal financial transactions including but not limited to setting up holding companies to fund his family's escape from the US with all the on-hand cash they could put into suitcases, paying his expenses during his escape from prison last year and funding several other criminal enterprises while he was in custody."

"What?" Ellen Whiting was shocked.

"You also fed false intelligence to your wife about LAPD Lieutenant Roger Bates and his involvement in several criminal acts. All of these charges were investigated by not only a member of the LAPD working for your wife but by the AUSA's office and FBI to guarantee Lt. Bates a fair inquiry," FBI Agent Lisa Rand told Whiting. "Detective Deeks submitted copies of all his paperwork, exonerating Lt. Bates time and time again. Finding the AUSA's Office and the FBI confirmed during their independent investigations."

"Great, Roger Bates is as pure as the driven snow," Ellen Whiting snarked.

"Not according to the paperwork you submitted to the LAPD Internal Affairs division. You altered several of Det. Deeks's reports, signing that they were his work under penalty of perjury."

"We interpreted things differently," Whiting defended herself.

Shaking her head, Rand said, "No, according to e-mails and texts from your husband, you were doing what you were told - what was important to him. While we're processing your husband at the Federal Building, LAPD is giving you the opportunity to turn yourself in for questioning. If you're not in your Captain's office by 9PM this evening, a warrant will be issued for you arrest."

"This is outrageous," Whiting yelled as her husband was being patted down by an FBI agent.

"I couldn't agree more," Rand told her. "I wanted you taken into custody earlier but Deeks is far too nice a guy. He arranged the arrest for tonight "

"It's my goddamn wedding anniversary, how is that being too nice?"

"He insisted we do this when you child wasn't home," Rand said. "That's being a good man."

"He murdered a cop, Francis Boyle. His own partner. He murdered him in cold blood."

"I have sworn statements from Detective Deeks, Tiffany Williams, the manager of the Sleepytime Motel and a woman named Deandra Smith who was waiting for a client that night about what happened to retired Detective Boyle. Mr. Boyle beat Miss Williams, an underage prostitute at the time of the beating. The motel manager called Detective Deeks, a then narcotics cop who he was familiar with, for help. Detective Deeks got Miss Williams from the motel and in doing that, earned the ire of Francis Boyle."

"This is bullshit. Deeks murdered him."

"Boyle pulled his weapon, he and Deeks struggle for it and when Boyle fired, he wound up shooting himself and not Deeks."

"Bullshit."

"Besides having the motel manager's statement, Miss Smith confirmed Detective Deeks's version of the story. She had Mr. Boyle as a client once. His alcoholism left him with some performance issues and he took those issues out on her. Miss Smith heard everything."

"Why didn't any of them come forward?"

"With the status of your Internal Affairs Department, I wouldn't report a lost paperclip to your division." Rand said as her fellow FBI Agents walked Douglas Whiting to a Taurus. "9PM, Mrs. Whiting."

"Detective."

"Not for long."

As the FBI cleared her lawn, Whiting noticed Deeks, Kensi, Matt, the Admiral and Bates watching. She flipped Deeks the bird.

"I believe Detective Whiting thinks I'm number one," Matt said.

"Everything you need to know about this case, including Boyle, is in that file sir," Deeks said to Bates.

"Always wondered if you really did kill him, kid," Bates said. "If Internal Affairs did their jobs, he might still be alive."

"I've obtained a justified shooting ruling for Detective Deeks as part of his cooperation in this matter from both the DA's Office and the department," Chegwidden told Bates. "I like doing a little pro-bono work for a fellow lawyer from time to time."

"I won't forget what you did Deeks, to Boyle or for me," Bates was obviously torn. "Are you still secure in your liaison position?"

"Not going anywhere," Deeks told his boss.

"Except for a rehearsal dinner," Kensi said. "We're going to be late."

Bates looked at Deeks. "When you get back from your honeymoon, you and I are going to have a long talk about what you do and don't tell me going forward. Go to your dinner, marry this woman who is so marrying beneath her station with you and enjoy your honeymoon." There was no malice in Bates's tone. Just amazement with what went on.

"We're not going to be late. Can't do the rehearsal dinner without the bride, groom and the minister," Matt said, straightening his tie.

"God help you all," Bates said shaking his head. "Best wishes and a happy life Agent Blye. Make this guy be the man you deserve."

"He is, sir. He is," Kensi said with a smile.

"AJ, we should do dinner," Bates called as he walked to his car.

"I'm in town all month. I'll give you a call," Chegwidden said, waving. "I'm going to fail as Hetty's plus one for this event and the wedding this weekend if I don't get you three to the dinner on time."

As Bates drove away, Deeks said, "Let's do this." He was ready to start his life with LAPD further and further in his rearview mirror and he couldn't be happier.

-30-

Annoying author's notes: Thank you all for reading! Your feedback, notes and messages were a joy to read. Looking forward to season nine. I'm still Team Bates so I needed to exonerate him at the end. Here's hoping the show does the same.

Thanks again,
Tess
August 27, 2017.