So, this snuck up on me (read: clobbered me over the head with a baseball bat) while I was working on two other stories (third in "Errand of Mercy" series, and third in "Detached Duty" series, if inquiring minds want to know). Naturally, I had to finish this one first.

As always, all rights in this work are hereby given to the copyright owners.

The operation - such as it was - was over. They'd captured Rio Syamsundin and gotten him and Agent DiNozzo on a flight to Washington - a flight which was even now taxiing toward the runway for departure.

Kensi and Deeks hadn't accompanied them to the airport, opting instead for a rare early out. Once the plane had backed away from the terminal, Sam had gone home to Michelle and his family, so why was G still standing at the departure gate, watching the 737 accelerate for takeoff?

Because something wasn't right. G knew that. He just didn't know what wasn't right, and standing here, alone in a crowd of people, just maybe he'd be able to figure it out.

Assuming, of course, that the surprisingly vigilant airline personnel would stop interrupting him. Sure, all it took was a flash of his badge and they backed off, but their intrusions were irritating nonetheless.

Irritating or not, in the end, the airline personnel were the ones who connected the dots in his mind.

It was a little thing, nothing G would notice ordinarily, just a supervisor reprimanding a subordinate, but it was like a high-beam flashlight in a dark room, illuminating just one thing, but that one thing was enough to build a picture of the entire room.

He knew what he had to do.

G arrived at OSP before seven the next morning. He'd considered confronting Hetty at one of her houses, eventually deciding against it - not least because she kept an unpredictable schedule as to which house she slept in on any given night, and G didn't want to face her after the frustration, however minor, of tracking her down.

No, fresh off a night's sleep - or a normal sleepless night, as the case may be - was the better choice. So G made a cup of strong tea and went to his desk to work on the paperwork that seemed to be incestuously breeding in his inbox while he waited for Hetty to arrive.

Surprisingly, it was past eight before G heard her footsteps. Without looking up, he tracked her as she crossed to the space that served as her office, set up her laptop and stowed her things, and then while she made her first pot of tea for the day.

This early in the day, he knew, it would be English Breakfast, or maybe Earl Grey, just to get her started. The exotic blends were for afternoon, for pauses during routine days, or for comfort during bad operations.

By the time Hetty settled at her desk, it was closing on nine, and G knew he needed to speak to her before the others got in. He rose and crossed to her desk.

"Morning, Hetty."

"Good morning, Mr. Callen." She finished typing a word, a sentence, something, before raising her eyes to his. "Is there something you need?"

"Need? Maybe. Probably." G dropped into the chair opposite her. She wasn't the kind of woman to be intimidated by him standing over her, but he didn't want even to give the impression that was his intention.

"That's hardly definitive."

"It's not a definitive thing." G met her gaze. "It's a question."

"Well," she tugged the screen of her laptop down, removing one more barrier between them, "ask."

"Why'd you head-slap DiNozzo yesterday?"

Her expression slipped, for less than a heartbeat, into open surprise. G wondered what question she'd thought he was going to ask, but put that thought aside as irrelevant. For now.

"Because Agent Gibbs asked me to give DiNozzo a message," she answered, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Good work, is a message. Don't miss your flight, is a message. That was an assault."

Hetty met his gaze without flinching. "I believe your friend Gibbs calls it a wake-up call."

"You can call a rabbit a smeerp, but that doesn't change what it is. Or," he added, "if you're in a more poetic mood, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Your point, Mr. Callen?"

"Thought it was obvious." G let a note of challenge into his tone. "Would you call Gibbs and ask him to slap me upside the head - or Deeks, or Kensi, or Sam - in front of others?"

"You wouldn't need a wake-up call," Hetty said.

"We all do, sometimes, even me. Even you. Would you do what Gibbs did?"

That she looked away from his gaze was answer enough.

"Didn't think so." G sat forward. "So you're going to authorize me and Deeks to go to D.C. for a couple of days and fix this. As much as we can."

Hetty's brows drew together. "You, I understand. Why Mr. Deeks?"

"DiNozzo's not the only one who needs damage control on this." G stood. "I've already got us tickets out later today."

"You're awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Callen."

"I am. Because as … disappointed in you as I am right now, you're still a damn good operations manager, and you'll do what's right for your team and NCIS as a whole."

"Your team as well." Hetty blew out a breath, the only sign that any of G's words had affected her. "I will arrange your hotel and a rental car."

G knew better than to let his surprise show. "Thanks."

Hetty nodded once, her lips drawn into a thin line, and G turned toward the bullpen where, he saw, the rest of his team had arrived while he was speaking with Hetty.

"Sorry, Kens," he said as he approached, "but I'm borrowing your partner for a couple of days."

"You can keep him, if you -" Kensi began, then stopped. "A few days?"

"Uh-huh. You and Sam can hold down the fort here."

"Something wrong, G?" Sam asked.

"Nothing serious." By which he meant nothing that would require ordnance of any kind.

Sam studied him for a moment, judging how likely it was G was bullshitting him, then nodded once. "Have fun. But not too much."

"When have I ever had too much fun? No, don't answer that." G grinned at Sam before looking at Deeks, who was staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Still. "Grab your go-bag and let's go."

"Uh -" Deeks' body was already obeying G's order even if his brain and mouth hadn't caught up to it. "Days, you said? Look, Callen, man - I love you, but not that way."

It wasn't until the airplane had leveled off that Deeks demanded answers.

"Why are we going to Washington freaking D.C.?"

G didn't look up from the copy of The Economist he'd bought at a newsstand in LAX. "Congratulations. I didn't think you'd last until we got to the airport, let alone until after takeoff."

"Stop deflecting," Deeks told him. "I won't be deflected. Why are we going to D.C.?"

G closed the magazine over the article he'd been reading and shifted in his seat so that he mostly faced Deeks.

"What happened with Agent DiNozzo was unacceptable."

"Well, yeah," Deeks said. "Losing a prisoner in transfer -"

"He didn't lose the prisoner, and that's not what I meant." G cut off what was sure to become a long ramble.

Deeks blinked, clearly confused. "Then what?"

G stared at him, then shook his head, exaggerating the movement for effect. "How can you be so good at undercover work and at the same time so bad at reading your partner?"

"Huh? What?"

"Your partner. Kensi."

"What about her?" Deeks flashed him a too-wide, too-innocent grin.

G glared at him - a mid-range glare, because it wouldn't do to terrify Deeks into running for the emergency exit while they were still in flight. "You can't read her. Or you chose not to. One or the other."

"What are you talking about, Callen? Seriously, man, I don't have a clue."

"Clearly."

Deeks blinked, and G had to grin. "You walked into that one."

Deeks sighed. "I did. What don't I have a clue about?"

"Kensi," G repeated.

Deeks' expression turned guarded. "What do you mean?"

"I do not need, nor do I want, details," G said. "But am I correct in concluding that you two have expressed feelings for each other that go beyond mere partnership? Expressed in words, not just actions?"

"Uh." Deeks considered that for a moment. "Yeah. I think. Yeah."

G couldn't help snorting at that. "It's Kensi."

Deeks grinned, a little more honestly. "Yeah. I mean, yeah, it's Kensi, and yeah, we've … said things."

It was the perfect opening, and G took it. "Why didn't you believe her?"

Deeks' expression turned almost comically surprised, then outraged. "What do you mean? Of course I believe her."

"Couldn't prove it by the way you acted around Agent DiNozzo." G held Deeks' gaze until the other man swallowed and looked away.

"It's just - she's -"

"Beautiful?" G suggested.

"Yeah. And he's -"

"Attractive and charming?"

"Didn't know you played both teams," Deeks offered weakly.

"I don't," G said. "But I'm not blind, either, and I can be honest about what I see."

Deeks swallowed again. "What - what did you see?"

"I saw a couple of agents who might have been attracted to each other - who am I kidding? They were definitely attracted to each other. But they weren't going to act on it."

"How can you be sure?" Deeks asked, though G suspected he could change the pronoun to I and the question would be more accurate.

"Smart-ass answer? Because I've been attracted to Kensi for years and haven't acted on it. More reasoned answer? Because I know Kensi, and I know how to read people - both her and DiNozzo. There was attraction, sure - but that's as far as it was ever going to go."

Deeks nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

G borrowed one of Sam's put-upon-parent expressions and the tone that went with it. "You do know that not all attraction progresses to the bedroom, don't you?"

"What?" Deeks stared at him. "Yes, of course."

"You didn't act like it with Kensi - or DiNozzo."

"So you're dragging me all the way across the country to … what? Apologize to a man I barely know?"

"No, but that'll be a good cover."

Damn, G wished he had his camera out for this conversation. Deeks was going through entire catalogs of expressions G had never seen before.

"Cover," Deeks repeated carefully. "What's really going on?"

"I'm not sure," G admitted. "I want your impressions - your assessment - of DiNozzo as an operative, as a person."

"Even knowing I'm - I don't like him much?"

"Especially because of that," G said. "You won't over-embellish anything."

"I might under-embellish."

G shook his head. "That's not you, Deeks. You'll be honest, however grudgingly."

"Shouldn't you be making your own assessment?"

"Not this time. For a lot of reasons."

"Give me one."

G raised an eyebrow. "Only one?"

Deeks shrugged. "I'm not naive enough to think you'll give me all of them. Just give me one. Two, if you're feeling generous."

G chuckled, but then was distracted as the cabin attendant asked for their drink orders. G asked for a cup of ice to go with the bottle of water he'd bought at LAX, and Deeks ordered coffee.

When the attendant had moved on, G took a sip of his water before regarding his teammate again.

"Two reasons. First, I'm friends with his senior agent, Gibbs."

"The one who sent the head-slap?"

G's mouth tightened to a frown. "Yeah."

"He know that?"

"Maybe. If he does, it means he won't open up to me."

Deeks considered that, then nodded once. "Okay, I get it. Second reason?"

"He was a cop, too, before he joined NCIS. You have common ground with him that I don't."

"Okay, yeah, that makes sense." Deeks scratched his chin. "What's my reason for being there?"

"You're my backup."

"Okay. And what's your reason for being there?"

"Briefing the director."

"On what?" Deeks sounded suspicious.

"Lots of things," G answered casually. "Personnel issues, mission creep."

"None of which requires backup," Deeks pointed out.

"Have you ever known Hetty to voluntarily send one of us out alone?"

Deeks pursed his lips. "Fair point. Okay. So I'm scoping out DiNozzo. You joining us?"

"Maybe." G grinned. "No telling what three highly-trained undercover specialists might get up to."

Deeks stared at him for a moment, then matched his grin.