A/N:- And here it is. The final chapter of Vanished. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. I know I've enjoyed writing it, when it didn't make me wanna pull my hair out in frustration. Big props as always to Malia Amane for the beta work; you're a true star! But fear not, gentle reader… I have big plans for the Revenge-verse. The next story might be a little while coming, but I really believe you're gonna enjoy what I have in store for Kensi and Deeks.
Disclaimer:- Shane Brennan. He is the one who owns these characters. Him and CBS. Not me. I don't own them. Shame really, cause I have a lot of fun playing with them.

Callen reached the single doorway, pausing only a second before reaching the handle. He pulled the door open, the hinges creaking and echoing down the tight staircase beyond. Slapping the butt of his assault rifle against his shoulder, muzzle leading the way, he inched softly into the darkness.

"You ready, Deeks?" said Sam, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at where the Detective stood. Their Liaison scanning the area around them.

"I was born ready, Sam," came the reply. Sam nodded, once, then led the way towards the main staircase.

Kensi watched her team split up, Callen heading towards the side of the lobby while Sam and Deeks crept towards the main stairwell.

Behind her, she heard the unmistakable crunch of boot on gravel.

In an instant, she'd rolled onto her back, ripping her SIG from where it was strapped into her thigh holster. Even as she raised her service piece, her eyes sought instantly for the NCIS logo stencilled onto the chest, not seeing it; not recognising the face; noting the rifle in the man's hands. Everything had been registered and processed in the split second before she pulled the trigger twice, rounds slamming into the man's chest. The shaven-headed man staggered back, not going down, the metal slugs crunching like an accordion against the bulletproof vest he wore. He grunted in pain, before bringing his weapon up.

Kensi put a third shot right into his forehead.

Her mismatched eyes scanned the rest of the roof, looking for movement, looking for an unnatural shadow amongst the blackness. Kensi quickly determined that she was alone once more. Rolling back onto her belly, she picked up her sniper rifle, peering out into the building opposite.

Sam reached the top of the stairwell, crouching down by the door that opened out into the first floor. Deeks joined him, taking his place on the opposite side of the wall.

"Kens, you hear me?" he asked, a hoarse whisper into the comms.

"Copy, Sam," she replied a moment later.

"Tell me what we're dealing with in here."

"I read five hostiles, armed with AK47s. Most of them are ducked down behind the cubicles." She then quickly reeled off the rough locations of the armed men she could see from her vantage point.

"You got a plan?" asked Deeks.

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he replied, before gesturing at the small oval window in the door. "And I need you to break that glass."

Deeks cocked his head to one side, not understanding the plan, but dug out his kit hammer regardless. As he did so, he noticed Sam pulled an item from his own kit, and let out a low "Ohhhh" of understanding. It took several heavy thuds against the thick, wire-mess security window, but the detective was finally able to create a large enough hole for what Sam had in mind. As soon as the space was made, Sam tossed the small cylindrical object through the gap, before ducking back out of the way as enemy gun fire ripped towards the door.

He and Deeks pressed their bodies flush against the wall, bullets riddling ineffectively on the other side. A brief second passed, before a loud bang rang through from the other room, and dazzling white light flared from the flash bang he had just thrown in. Then, as one, he and Deeks stormed through into the first floor.

The corridors of the basement area were like a rabbit warren, tight and twisting this way and that. The space was oppressive, especially in the almost pitch black that Callen made his way silently through. Sure, the green glow of his goggles afforded him sight, but the sound of his breathing still seemed too loud to his ears, the soft creak of his boots too thunderous.

Onward he went, the muzzle of his rifle leading the way. Each corner he came to, he inched his head around slowly, expecting an attack, ready to react to it.

None came.

Then, somewhere up ahead in the maze of twists and turns, came the clang of metal on concrete. It was followed by a brief curse, cut short by a second voice. Gently, Callen hooked his carbine onto its place on his back, before slipping his SIG slowly from his thigh holster.

Silently, like a ghost, he moved forward.

The first wave went down in an instant, still recovering from the blinding shock and noise of the flash bang. But their sudden advantage wouldn't last forever, so Sam and Deeks threw themselves aside, just seconds before a hail of fire lanced back at them from further inside the floor. Deeks slammed his back against a large metal filing cabinet, while hot slugs pounded against the opposite side. He pulled free his mag, gave it a quick check, before slamming it back into place.

Around him bullets ripped into the course blue carpet, shattering plant pots and cabinets, smashing computer monitors to smithereens. He took stock of the area; the office was wide, separated into individual cubicles by waist high dividers. From the brief view he'd had before he'd been forced to take cover, Deeks knew that the enemy fighters were using those cubicles as their own cover, hoping that the desks would proved them with more defence.

He glanced over at Sam, hoping the big man had a plan for what to do next, and gasped.

He was alone.

There was no more sound coming from ahead. What there was, however, was a faint light. It grew in brightness as Callen neared. After a moment, he stripped the goggles from his head, storing them on his webbing. Silently, he wished Sam was by his side. Then he forced the thought away.

He had a job to do.

Son of a bitch, thought Deeks, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. I knew we were never gonna be the best of friends, but I can't believe he'd vanish like that.

The gunfire coming from the other side had pettered out, no doubt as the terrorists moved to a better position, or were waiting for him to make a mistake. Body shaking, he raised a hand, pressing the button on his ear bud. "Sam?" he said, trying to keep his voice down. "Sam? You read me?"

Only static replied.

From behind him came the familiar sounds of shouting, as the defenders called to each other, no doubt moving their position. Hoping to close the distance on Deeks, hoping for a good line of sight, hoping to flank him. He ground his teeth together, wondering where the hell Sam had got to, how he was going to get out of this.

He sensed rather than saw movement to his right, and rolled aside just as a fresh barrage of gunfire shredded the ground where he had just been. Deeks span to his feet, still hunkered down, and returned fire, forcing the attacker back behind cover. But Deeks was out in the open now, in the middle of the aisle between two cubicles. He raised his head, saw two gunmen burst from cover, weapons raised in his direction. He had no choice, but pushed himself upright, charging towards one of the cubicles, dropping his M4A1 to free his hands. He leapt, palms slapping against the top lip of the felt covered divider, vaulting over just as the ground was shredded by more bullets. He twisted in the air, before slamming down shoulder first onto the hard desk on the other side. Pain lanced through him, and he grunted, but continued to roll off it to crash onto the floor again.

He scrambled onto his back, panting raggedly, and dragged his Baretta from its holster, aiming it back the way he had just come, expecting to see the bad guys appear at any second.

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire sounded throughout the room. But not coming from where Deeks had expected, and not tearing into him; instead, it was coming from the far end of the room, and was followed by cries of pain. Then, the gunfire cut off.

Deeks cocked his head to one side.

"Deeks?" came a shout. "You there?"

Deeks dragged himself from the floor, his shoulder protesting. Above the maze of cubicles, he saw Sam making his way from the far end of the room, his eyes searching for movement.

"I'm here," he replied. "Where the hell did you go? I looked up and you were nowhere to be seen."

"You needed me to hold your hand?" smirked the ex-SEAL.

"No I did not expect you to hold my hand," Deeks replied, feeling his ire rise. "But a heads up would have been nice."

"I wouldn't have needed to tell Callen," said Sam.

"Yeah?" snapped Deeks. "Well, guess what? I'm not Callen."

"Tell me about it."

"Oh, you know what, I've had enough of this. Just cause I'm not your partner doesn't mean you get to treat me like crap."

Sam blinked, his smirk fading. "I…" he began, before licking his lips. "I'm sorry. I guess I just work on instinct in these situations, and Callen knows me well enough to know how I think. I saw the opportunity to get behind them, and needed a distraction. But you're right; I should have told you before I did it."

"That's all I ask," said Deeks, feeling his anger slipping from him. "Though to be honest, I'm pretty sure Kensi would have come up with the exact same scenario. I don't know why people keep using me as a distraction."

"Cause you're very distracting," said Kensi, through the ear buds. "You two kissed and made up now?"

Sam glanced over expectantly at Deeks. After a moment, the detective nodded. "Anybody else still moving, Kens?"

"No," she replied. "Looks like you're all clear."

"Anything from Callen," asked Sam.

"Nothing. I can't get a signal from him. He might be in an area our comms can't get to."

Sam nodded, before turning to Deeks again. "You ready to go pull G's butt out of the fire?"

Deeks grinned. "Why, Sam Hanna, I thought you'd never ask. Just do me a favour, huh?"

"What's that?"

"Don't, uh, don't use me as a distraction again."

Sam's laugh was deep and true.

Callen's heart thudded in his chest as he inched his way forwards. The light grew brighter now, spilling from the open doorway up ahead. He stilled his breathing, making his way through the opening. Inside, the room opened up into what seemed to be a steam distribution trunk, with thick red pipes leading here and there. A single lamp swung gently from the ceiling above, and directly below it was a cylindrical container. It matched the schematics that Eric had pulled from Quiggin's laptop to the letter.

He'd found the bomb.

But that wasn't all he'd found, as a second later – with a loud, guttural, cry – a figure burst from behind the device, his AK47 already spewing a hailstorm of bullets. Callen put him down with a double tap to the chest.

Before the body had even hit the floor, Callen swung his SIG to the left, checking that side of the room, making sure it was clear of another ambush. He swung to the right… and something heavy collided with his hand, breaking his grip. His SIG went skittering across the room, disappearing into the shadows in the corner.

Callen scrambled back, the adrenaline already pumping through his veins, senses heightened, taking in every detail of the man opposite him. Shaven head, military fatigues, carrying a three foot long lead pipe. And a face that had stared back at Callen from the big screen in Ops.

Gunnery Sergeant Callum Quiggin.

Quiggin swung the lead pipe in circles as he approached. His face was a mask of concentration and cold anger, singularly focussed on the NCIS Agent. Callen, for his part, ignored the pipe as much as he could, instead keeping his attention on the whole of Quiggin's frame. The movement of the pipe would be a distraction; any tell of when the traitorous marine would attack would come from the man himself, probably from the hips or the shoulders.

Again, Callen silently thanked the hours of Sayoc his partner had drilled with him. It meant that, when Quiggin swung the pipe at him, Callen saw the movement coming a mile away. He caught the metal under his armpit, taking a step the other way to take some of the impact out of it. It still hurt like hell, but he knew instantly that he hadn't cracked any ribs or done any serious damage.

Quiggin's cold, reptilian eyes narrowed in surprise only a fraction of an inch. He tugged against the pipe, trying to free it from Callen, but it only slipped free an inch. Callen knew he couldn't let the marine continue, or he'd have the weapon back, so seized the opportunity to butt the other man in the head. Quiggin staggered back, losing his grip on the pipe.

But Quiggin recovered quickly, pulling a wickedly edged Ka-Bar from a sheath at the small of his back. He dropped into a fighting stance, holding the knife reversed against his forearm.

"Give it up, Quiggin," said Callen. "Your men are dead. This is over." He didn't know that for a fact, couldn't know that, but was relying on the skill of his team to have resolved the situation upstairs.

"I'm prepared to die for my cause," Quiggin spat back. "Are you?"

Callen didn't respond with words, but sought to use the distraction of their discussion to his advantage, lunging forward with the pipe in a short arc. Quiggin danced back, out of range, slashing with his knife an instant later, only for it to scrape against the pipe as Callen pulled it back to protect his face. Quiggin lunged again, but Callen batted the blade aside, cracking hard against the marine's wrist, sending the knife flying opening a gap. He went for it, thrusting the end of the pipe towards Quiggin's gut.

It was a trap.

Fast, faster than Callen had ever expected, Quiggin's free hand caught the pipe, twisting it and pulling it almost too easily from Callen's grip. Quiggin tried to attack with it, but Callen was able to get another hand on it. Briefly, they struggled over the weapon, before it slipped from both their grips, clattering to the floor.

Hands now free, Quiggin lashed out with a fist, slamming it towards Callen's head. It was only a quick block that stopped the blow from knocking the Agent out. But still, it put Callen off balance enough for Quiggin to push kick him in the gut, sending him back half a dozen steps.

With a mighty roar, Quiggin launched himself at Callen, catching him around the midsection and sending them both tumbling into the corner, rolling over and over each other. Quiggin, as the heavier of the two, came out on top, his hands wrapped solidly around Callen's neck, squeezing tightly.

Callen thrashed, his breath cut off and rasping, eyes bugging, his arms flailing, trying to prize the fingers from around his throat. He thrashed, trying desperately to buck the marine off him, but Quiggin's weight was firmly on him, shifting only slightly to the side.

Then, as his vision started to rapidly darken, he saw something from the corner of his eye. Wildly, he reached out for it, fingers inching towards the object. Just… a… few… inches… more…

Then he had it, his fingers closing around the rectangular metal. He pulled it back, twisted it into position...

And pulled the trigger.

His SIG barked, the sound muffled by being pressed directly against Quiggin's midsection. The marine slammed backwards, but Callen pumped the trigger again and again, ripping apart the flesh.

For a moment, Callen lay there, panting harshly, trying to suck sweet oxygen back into his aching lungs; his throat burned like a forest fire. Eventually, he pulled himself upright, staring down at the body of Quiggin. Then he headed towards the device.

"G," came a familiar cry from deeper inside the maze of corridors. "You here?"

"Back here, Sam" he called, voice rasping, before cutting off with an onslaught of coughs.

A second later, Sam and Deeks burst into the room, their M4A1's raised and searching. After making sure the room was clear, they lowered their weapons. "You good?" asked Sam.

Callen glanced down at Quiggin again. "All good. Get in touch with Hetty," he said, rubbing at his raw throat. "Tell her we've secured the bomb."

The dawn sunlight, red and swollen with the potential of the day, crawled slowly through the Spanish-style mission that housed the Office of Special Projects. The four agents, bodies weary from the long night before, climbed the staircase that led to Ops, letting the automatic doors whoosh open for them. None of the group spoke as they entered, but gave silent greeting to the occupants. Nell and Eric looked equally as haggard as the field operatives. No one would be able to say they all hadn't earned their pay.

Deeks' jaw cracked as he fought a yawn, dragging his worn out frame towards the centre console. He leant casually against Kensi, wrapping his arm around her hips, knowing that it was a breach of their work rules but he was just too tired to care. And from the fact that Kensi didn't pull away, but rather leant her weight against him too, he knew she felt the same way.

"Where's Hetty?" asked Callen. Deeks wasn't surprised to see he looked more alert than the others. It was his private opinion that Callen didn't sleep at all, and existed purely by mainlining caffeine. Heck, the fact that he'd been throttled only a few hours ago hadn't put him off his stride; he'd gotten a full health clearance by the responding paramedics, and had gratefully wolfed down breakfast with the others.

"Hetty's here," came a voice from the ether, as the Operations Manager appeared. She put Callen to shame, looking like she'd had a full eight hours of sleep, though Deeks knew she wouldn't have left Ops for a second until she knew her team was safe. She turned around the room, catching the tired eyes of her agents for a second, before stepping to the large screen. "A good job all round," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "Reports have just come in that the bomb was substantially more powerful than we had originally been led to believe, though has now been successfully disarmed. You will find that a great portion of this country owes you all a debt of gratitude. Mr Beale?"

"Uh, yeah," said Eric, blinking in surprise at having been called on so quickly. He span his swivel chair to face his computer, tapping away on the keyboard as he continued. "I managed to get a trace on the email communications between Quiggin and Fahran Bashir."

Fluidly, Nell took up the debrief. "We followed the trail back to what we believe to have been the point of origin."

"So we've been able to send the information to the DOD," Eric continued, "who are, as we speak, formulating an operation to capture him."

"An exceptionally well done job," Hetty said again. "Now, why don't you all head home and get some sleep? I dare say you've all more than earned it."

"Night, Hetty," came the assembled chorus, as the team began to shuffle towards the exit.

"You gonna get some surfing in?" asked Kensi as they reached the bottom of the stairs, making their way to the bullpen.

"I might grab a few waves," Deeks replied, his arm still draped around her shoulder. "But I need to swing 'round Sam's and pick up Monty first. Why don't you come with me? That way, you can check out some of Sam's high school football videos for tips on how to play properly next time?"

Kensi pulled up short, dragging herself from his grip. Deeks closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

"What did you say?" she asked, voice pointed.

Deeks turned back to her, smile sheepish. Behind his partner, he could see Callen and Sam had stopped too. The expression on the ex-SEALs' face more than matched Kensi's. "It's, uh, it's possible I'm so tired it's making me delirious?" Deeks tried.

Kensi crossed her arms under her breasts, arching an eyebrow at him. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you know what, you know exactly what I mean. I mean you cheat."

"I do not cheat."

"You do, you cheat, and you don't even try to hide it."

"I happen to be a very competitive person," she retorted.

"Right," he agreed. "Also you cheat."

"Can you guys not start making out in the office?" interjected Callen. "I just ate."

"Wait a minute," said Sam, rounding on his own partner. "How has Deeks seen footage of me playing in high school?"

"Well," said Callen, pausing a moment, and flicking his eyes towards Deeks. "See, the thing is, I don't have a TV, so…"

"Yeah, but those are on tape," continued Sam. "And I know for a fact that Deeks doesn't have a VHS player. Unless…" He trailed off, spinning around to where Eric and Nell were stood on the middle section of the staircase. Eric took a half step back.

"I thought it was for a case," the tech geek protested. "Callen brought it to me, wanted it converted to digital. It wasn't until we were playing it on the big screen in Ops that I realised…" He stepped talking suddenly, as if realising he'd said too much.

Sam's eyes went wide. "You've all seen the footage!?" he exclaimed.

"'fraid so," admitted Kensi.

Sam scoffed. "Fine," he grumbled, before jamming a thick finger at Callen's chest. "Then you can tell this fool that I was a great receiver."

Silence echoed through the building. Deeks scratched at the back of his neck, as Sam turned his attention one by one to the team around him.

Finally, Nell spoke up. "You certainly looked like the uniform suited you," she offered.

"Right, that's it," snapped Sam. "There's a park across the street, we're going there right now and I'm going to prove to you all, once and for all, that I just am that damn good."

"I don't know," said Deeks. "We've been up for hours, I'm tired…"

"Really?" said Kensi, cutting him off. "You're gonna claim I'm a cheat, and then not back it up?"

He met her eyes, saw the sparkle in them, saw the dangerous edge he loved so much. "You know what, you're on," he said, grabbing her by the crook of the arm and dragging her towards the door.

Sam and Callen were just a few seconds behind them. "Same teams as before," called Callen.

From their perch on the stairs, Nell and Eric observed the interaction. A long moment passed. "Promise not to go easy on me?" Nell asked, not looking at her partner.

Eric leant forward, resting his elbows on the railing. "Only if you promise to not go easy on me," he replied. They stood side by side for a moment more, then started for the door.

From atop the staircase, Hetty watched it all, a small smile playing on her lips. Then she raised the tea cup to her lips, savouring the taste.

THE END