A/N:- The next case-fic in the Revenge-verse. Don't worry if you haven't read any of those, all you need to know is that it features an established and public Densi. But if you'd like read those first, I will never, ever, hold it against you. Special shout out to Malia Amane for being my first ever (and greatly needed) Beta reader/editor extraordinaire. Any mistakes after that are my own.
Rating:- T. And it will not go above that into M (fingers crossed)
Disclaimer:- If you've been reading my stories since the beginning, you can probably figure this out. If not, here's a little spoiler for you; I do not own NCIS Los Angeles or any of the awesome characters who appear on it.

Popular rumour held that the only true thing you would ever discover about Henrietta Lange was that she enjoyed the finer things in life.

This was evident in the aged scotch she kept in a drawer in her desk, the classic Jaguar she drove, the exotic tea she could always be found enjoying, the smooth and well cut clothes she wore and insisted her agents did as well (at least, when the undercover opportunity arises, and they can be trusted to bring said items back in one piece), and the lavish building and grounds that served as her main home. It was also a rumour that Hetty was quite keen to ensure propagated.

Right now, the bright sunshine – fat and heavy with the fullness of noon – streamed down over the well-groomed grounds, casting rays of warmth over Hetty as she sat on a thick oaken lawn chair, sipping on a cup of tea, savouring the pleasant mix of aromas. Savoured them, and tried to ignore the other heavy scent from the other side of the pool, where Eric Beale – clad in an apron, oven mitts and comically large white chef's hat, and having to have been extracted from Ops and his prized computers only be the sheer force of Hetty's will – busied himself with the burning BBQ grill, fussing over the burgers, hotdogs and steaks that sizzled there. It wasn't that the food did not smell good, but she was trying to enjoy the bouquet of her tea, since it was an important part of the whole experience. She wished the gentle breeze would shift direction, taking the smoke away from her little table, but alas, there were just some things that not even Hetty Lange had power over. Still, she thought, good food and good friends. What better way to spend a Saturday?

Not far from where Eric was struggling with the spitting grill, Nell Jones, his partner in crime, was engrossed in conversation with two other women who were as different in age as they were similar in temperament. The diminutive data analyst – and it was odd for Hetty to consider anyone else short – had a floral sunhat perched over her shock of red hair, and was crouched down to speak to the young girl, a smile on both their faces, Nell genuinely amused by the little girl's words. The girl spoke animatedly and with a great deal of enthusiasm, though she was too far off for Hetty to make out more than one or two words. The girl's mother, Michelle, stood by for support if need be. She needn't have worried, of course; Shondra Hanna was far too much like both her parents to be shy in talking to strangers.

Speaking of her parents, her father was on the other end of the lawn. Sam Hanna had stripped off his shirt, revealing the complex pattern of tattoos on his dark skin, his well-defined muscles bunching as he cocked his arm back, before launching the tan football into the air, where it flew a sizable distance. His partner, however, had to jump high to pluck the ball out of the sky. Callen affixed Sam with a dry gaze.

"You still suck at being a quarterback," Callen called, before launching the ball back towards his partner. It sailed perfectly, spinning above the head of the shaggy haired individual, who darted back and forth between the two senior agents, barking and yipping delightedly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail wagging like there was no tomorrow. Monty might not be a member of her team per say, but he was a loyal, complex and trusted companion who had saved the lives of her agents, and Hetty would have found it remiss to not include him in the day's festivities.

Sam caught the pigskin in his large hands, clutching it automatically to his chest for safety, ignoring the scruffy mutt as he whined excitedly around the big man's feet. "I was a receiver, G," Sam called back. "And a damned good one at that too. You know why?"

"No," replied Callen. "But I get the feeling you're going to tell me."

"It's cause I can do this all day long," Sam continued. "You, you can throw this ball alright when there's no pressure, when the only thing you have to worry about is the bottom of your jeans getting slobbered on. Get half a dozen guys charging you, in full armour, and you'd crumble."

"Hey, I do just fine under pressure," Callen retorted, catching the ball again and returning it in one smooth movement. "And real pressure too, when there's lives on the line. Why any quarterback would ever panic is beyond me."

Hetty let the sounds of their banter wash over her, contentment resting easily in her chest. Callen had been one of the biggest challenges of her career to date. He had always been brooding and mysterious, a lone wolf who did not play well with others, constantly searching for the truth about himself and about his family. While he was still all of those things, the edges of his personality had been smoothed. Being partnered with Sam had done that, had provided the trusted and emotional support Callen had so desperately needed, grounding him in reality and drawing him inch by inch back into the world he spent so much of his time fighting to protect. They all made great sacrifices to do what they did but without that anchor, it was easy to lose sight of what they had dedicated themselves to defend. And though he now knew he had lost the only blood kin he would ever know, amongst his fellow agents in the Office of Special Projects he had found a rudimentary family that he could embrace as his own.

"You can't talk," said Sam. "You ain't never been in a real game in your life. Ain't never been in a high pressure game, last play, everything resting on you. Seconds ticking down, a bunch of tackles rushing you. You don't know. Heck, I've been in combat situations, and even I still get nightmares about my football days."

"Yeah?" replied Callen, voice mockingly playful. "You wake up in cold sweats? If that sort of thing bothers you, maybe I should have Monty as my new partner; he doesn't panic."

"Dog's too stupid to panic," Sam retorted. "Just like his owner."

Hetty's attention drifted to the edge of her lawn, where said dog's said owner was observing the fun, his arms wrapped possessively around the stomach of the attractive brunette pressed back first against his chest. Detective Marty Deeks, their "LAPD Liaison" (Hetty couldn't resist the air quotes in her mind. She hadn't needed a liaison officer; she had just wanted him for his skills, so underhandedly stole him from them), didn't catch the ex-SEAL's words, too busy whispering into the ear of his partner. Kensi Blye giggled almost girlishly at whatever he was saying, her face flitting between amusement, faux-disgust, and delight. They were so relaxed in the openness of their relationship it often took Hetty by surprise.

When Kensi's first partner had vanished, presumed dead, Hetty had stepped up her machinations to obtain Deeks as a replacement. She knew he would bring some highly valuable skills to the team, skills they didn't even know they lacked. But more than that, he would bring a lightness to their work lives, a sense of fun that would help them cope with their long, arduous battle against the forces that sought to destroy their very way of life. And he would be the perfect counter point to Kensi.

For everything that the female agent was – smart, strong bodied and willed, determined and dedicated –, before the resolution with her mother Kensi had been just as alone in her life as Callen was. Deeks, Hetty knew, would have proven to be a willing confidant and trusted friend, someone who would open up the possibilities of the world for Kensi in the same way that Sam did for Callen. Still, no one had been more amazed than Hetty when she realised that, slowly and with barely any notice, the pair's friendship and mutual attraction had blossomed into something more, something deeper. In her wildest planning, chess master extraordinaire Hetty Lange had never imagined that her two junior agents would fall in love.

When the truth of their full bond had emerged, Hetty had spoken rather coolly and at some length to them both, warning them that such a relationship could hamper their partnership and the unit as a whole, even if they managed to remain together. She pressed upon them both the need to remain professional at all times, to not let their feelings get in the way of an investigation more than it would had they simply remained friends. And for the most part, they had complied. Deeks, who had only a small passing familiarity with professionalism to begin with, had not exactly altered the way he treated his partner whilst they were in the office. They had so far managed to keep the touching and the couple stuff to a minimum, though Deeks still flirted outrageously with Kensi every chance he got. Remarkably, the pair's casual touches – which they had both foolishly believed no one had noticed even before they became official – and banter seemed to have remained exactly the same, with neither doing anything that would raise objections from even Director Granger… were anyone to tell him about it, of course. How they were outside of the office and away from prying eyes, however, was a situation Hetty did not want to consider too deeply.

Because inside, Hetty was glad they had found each other. She was old, her whole life had been dedicated to the spy game, and now – aside from the little misfit bunch of agents she considered her family – she was alone; she'd missed out on the chance for love, for everything else that went along with that. And she had worried that Kensi would go the same way as her, returning home each night to a big empty house, alone with her thoughts.

"You're joking, right?" Kensi suddenly exclaimed, pulling herself free of the arms clasped around her, and rounding on the shaggy haired blond.

Her partner just grinned back, that lopsided wolfen grin of his. "What," he replied. "I'm not saying anything that's not true."

"You take it back this instant," Kensi retorted.

"And what if I don't?" Deeks replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. Hetty watched them with interest now; the detective's personality may grate on some, but while his easy-going nature actually clashed more noticeably with his girlfriend's, it had remarkably been one of the first things that had attracted the two to each other. Plus, he really did know how to push Kensi's buttons, and while Hetty would never admit it to anyone, their interactions were amusing to witness.

Kensi grabbed Deeks by the arm, dragging him handily towards the other members of the team, her face twisted into a determined scowl. "We're going to sort this out right now," she demanded hotly. Anyone casually observing her would believe that Kensi was enraged by something Deeks had said. Hetty – and of course, Detective Deeks – could read her better than that; their current exchanges were part of the unique dance the partners had perfected long before they ever acknowledged their feelings.

"I could kick your ass any day of the week," claimed Kensi, voice solid.

"I'm not doubting that," replied Deeks, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. "I'm just saying that girls – normal girls, not bad-ass Special Agents – would get womped playing football against boys. They'd need to have the body mass of, like, Sam or something, and most women I know couldn't stand to be that big."

"Most of the women you know can barely remember their own names," Kensi accused.

Deeks shrugged slightly, still smiling. "That is true," he said.

"Could you guys maybe not do that right now?" said Sam, gesturing roughly to the couple as they approached him. "There're impressionable kids about."

"Also Eric," added Callen, coming to stand by his partner.

"Give me the ball," Kensi demanded of Sam. The ex-SEAL, who had once been buried alive, who had faced down insurmountable odds in combat situations, who didn't panic under pressure, quickly complied. "Right," she continued, addressing the whole team. "Here's the deal, touch football. Endzones are there and there. Whoever has the most points by the time the food's ready, wins. Sam's on my team."

Sam and Callen exchanged a glance, both seemingly almost on the verge on complaining – whether at the interruption of their casual throw-around, or at Kensi's choice of teams, Hetty didn't know – but both clamped their mouths shut at the exact moment. Sam threw his partner a grin. "Let's see how you do under pressure," he said.

"I'll be fine," replied Callen, a confident grin on his features. "Give us the ball and I'll show you how it's done."

"Why do you get the ball first?" demanded Kensi.

It was Deeks who replied, without even a second's pause; "Best looking team gets to start with the ball."

Kensi arched an eyebrow at him. "And what makes you think that's you?"

Deeks grinned victoriously. "Cause we get Nell on our team."

"Uh uh," replied Kensi. "I don't think so."

"Oh, I think so," replied Callen, tugging the ball out of her hands. "You picked Sam, we pick Nell."

"But I don't want Eric," Kensi whined.

"Oh, that's nice," came a voice from the edge of the lawn. The team turned as one, to see Nell and Eric standing close by, no doubt alerted by the raised voices. Kensi had the good grace to blush.

"Sorry, Eric," she replied, voice bashful. "Now get your butt over here, I have a partner to humiliate."

"Why," interjected Deeks. "You planning on driving around somewhere?"

"I am a great driver," she retorted.

Sam let out a laugh. "You know, Kensi, for someone who lies professionally, not even you can make that hold water."

"Why is everyone picking on me?" Kensi sighed.

"Just your turn," deadpanned Callen. "We gonna do this or not?"

The two teams split into huddles on opposite ends of Hetty's lawn. When they broke into positions, Hetty was intrigued to note they paired up against their opposite number; Nell ready to snap the ball to Callen, with Eric and Sam covering them, whilst Deeks stood out to one side, playing the role of receiver, Kensi opposite him. The sixsome may act naturally as partners out in the field, but there was always going to be a small question in the backs of their minds as to who was the better agent. Hetty didn't mind that; the question made each partner strive to be better, to find new ways to one-up each other, even if they didn't realise it.

"Just you and me, Blondie," Kensi said, face now a mask of resolve, spoiled only slightly by the clearly delighted grin threatening to force its way out.

Deeks threw her a lopsided grin in return. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Pookie."

"You ready for this, G?" asked Sam, calling over the backs of Nell and Eric. "Full blitz. It's pressure time. Let's see how you do."

"Hike," cried Callen, ignoring the jibe from his partner, and Nell snapped the ball between her legs and into his hands. She rose quickly, holding her arms wide as Callen scrambled away from her. Opposite the young Data Analyst, Eric moved forwards, trying to get past, but seemed reluctant to get too close to the woman. Whether it was due to concern for his own safety or his feelings for his partner, Hetty was unsure. Either way, he wasn't getting past her anytime soon.

The same couldn't be said for Sam, unfortunately, who raced passed the pair, roaring like a bear as he rushed his partner. Callen's eyes widened briefly as the avalanche rolled towards him, scrambling out of the way at the last second, the ball clutched protectively to his chest. Sam turned on the dime, zigging his direction to bundle himself towards his partner's back. But before he could reach him, Callen let the ball arch from his grip, sailing through the air.

On and on it span, and Hetty watched its graceful curve, only aware in the corner of her vision that Sam had hit Callen full bore. Friendly game of touch football my sweet backside, she thought. The ball soared across the green, heading right for Deeks as the detective raced away from the line of scrimmage, his partner hot on his heels, the pair of them laughing richly like wayward teenagers. Kensi tugged against his shirt, stretching the material out, while her partner made accusations of cheating at the top of his lungs. Deeks leapt for the ball, hands outstretched, but Kensi grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, dragging him off target with all her might. The ball passed effortlessly out of his reach, and Deeks tumbled, off balance, onto the ground, his partner dragged with him. She landed roughly atop him, chest to chest, their faces close.

Deeks grinned at Kensi again, brushing a strand of darkened hair out of her face. "You know," he began, "we really, uh, really need to stop meeting like this."

Kensi's eyes twinkled delightedly and she sucked her lips into her mouth for a fraction of a second. Thankfully, Hetty was spared witnessing whatever was about to happen next, as the sound of her phone ringing distracted her. She glanced down briefly at the caller ID; it was the office. With a sigh, she answered the call.

By the time it was over, a heavy feeling had settled into Hetty's chest. She glanced up to where her team were setting themselves up for another play. "Gentlemen," she called out, attracting their attention. "Ladies. I'm sorry to do this, but duty calls. I'm afraid that today is a work day."

There were groans and protestations from the team, but they reluctantly began to head off her lawn.

"Miss Jones?" she said. The younger woman looked over. "Ride with me. We have some things to discuss." Hetty pointedly ignored the curious look on Callen's face.

The automatic doors parted with a barely audible hiss, as Callen led his partner into the darkened technical cave that served as their Operations Centre.

"What have we got, Eric?" he said, automatically.

The computer whiz looked up from his handheld device, blinking through his thick rimmed glasses. "What do you mean, 'What have we got?'"

"Exactly that. What's the case?"

Eric's features contorted further into confusion. "I… don't know?" he tried gamely. "I was at Hetty's with you. I literally just walked in to Ops like five seconds before you."

Callen turned to Sam, only experience keeping the smile from his lips. "Eric was there?" he inquired to his partner. "I thought the football was three-on-two?"

"Seemed like that to me too," nodded Sam, instantly catching on to Callen's meaning. "I mean, I know I was rushing Callen, and Kensi and Deeks were being… well, Kensi and Deeks. Which, had there been three on each side, meant someone should have been covering Nell."

"I don't recall that happening," said Callen.

"I don't either," confirmed Sam. "I do remember some girlish shrieking, but I just assumed Hetty's house was haunted."

"Haunted?" asked Callen, with a raise of his eyebrow. "Can you imagine anything trying to haunt Hetty?"

"Nope," replied his partner. "So I wonder what was making all that noise?"

Eric scowled at them, while his cheeks flamed. "You guys aren't as funny as you think you are," he bemoaned. "Besides, I may not be the most physical guy, but I make up for it with my keen mind and intellect."

A soft hiss announced the doors were opening again, spilling the other pair of agents into the room, Kensi naturally leading the way. Deeks was clutching the pigskin in his hands.

"Hey," said Kensi. "What have we got, Eric?"

"You two aren't funny either," moaned Eric.

"Oh, what?" Deeks said accusingly towards Callen and Sam. "You beat us to it?"

"'Fraid so," replied Sam.

The two junior Agents made their way around the opposite side of the centre console. Callen was pleased to note that, while they stood side by side – Kensi leaning forward onto her elbows, Deeks upright, fiddling with the football in his hands – the pair still kept a small but respectable distance between themselves. It had been tricky, but the young couple had so far managed to keep the separation between their work and private relationships. Callen hoped some small part of it had been due to the lectures he and Hetty had forced them both to sit through, but it was just as likely that it was Kensi herself who enforced the line. She was definitely the more professional of the two. Deeks was… well, Deeks was exactly the same as before. Deeks was just Deeks. That wasn't to say they were perfect – and Callen would be a fool if he believed neither of them had pushed hard at the boundaries – but so far no one had caught the two doing anything they shouldn't in any darkened corners of the office.

Just then, the doors slid open once again, this time to allow Nell in. Callen craned his neck to peer behind her; the Data Analyst was alone.

"Where's Hetty?" he demanded roughly. Callen was always on edge when the Operations Manager was absent for their briefings; it usually meant there was something going on that would later come back to bite them in the ass.

The redhead initially ignored the pointed question, heading towards the big board, tapping away on her tablet as she did. She finally looked up, catching Callen's eyes. "Hetty is still downstairs," she replied, elongating her words in the way that was all Nell, "on a conference call to Director Vance and Assistant Director Granger. She'll be up as soon as she can, but in the meantime she wanted me to get you all started."

Callen nodded reluctantly, leaning back against the console and folding his arms across his chest.

Behind Nell, a series of images sprang into view; a C-2 Greyhound in one; a marine squadron photograph in another.

"This is Kilo Squad," began Nell, highlighting the squadron picture. The men in the image where smiling for the camera, dressed in desert fatigues; Afghanistan if Callen were to guess at their surroundings. "Assigned to 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines."

"Thundering Third," breathed Sam, a touch of respect on his tongue.

"Really?" asked Deeks, arching his eyebrow at the ex-SEAL.

"Yeah," said Sam. "Balls of the Corps, that's their motto. Nobody else you want around when you gotta hold a position. Tough as nails, and twice as difficult to crack."

"What's that, Sam; got a little boy crush on them?" needled Deeks.

The large man turned to face the detective. "Keep this up," he warned, "I'll crush your boys."

Deeks didn't back down, just threw Sam a wide grin. Kensi shook her head.

"Nell," said Callen, wanting to get the briefing back on track.

"Right," said the data analyst, turning back to the screen. "Kilo was recently recalled to the States from its current tour of Afghanistan, to take part in Operation Broken Swallow."

"What's Operation Broken Swallow?" This from Kensi.

Nell pulled a face. "That's all I've got."

"We need more than that, Nell," Callen said.

"That's all I got," the redhead reiterated. "Believe me, this operation is so code-word clearance only, not even Hetty knew about it. That's why she's on the phone now; she's trying to find out what she can."

Kensi let out a low whistle. "What Op could be so important that they'd recall a squad from Afghanistan just to take part in it?"

"As far as I can tell," said Nell, "Kilo Squad is uniquely suited for this mission, based on its experiences in Helmand Province during Operation Enduring Freedom."

"Okay," said Callen. "So where do we come in?"

"Well, this is where it gets interesting," Nell said, a small smile starting on her face. "They took off from The USS George H.W. Bush in a C-2 Greyhound for the ride home as expected, touching down at Camp Pendleton less than four hours ago. However, once they were down, the pilots quickly discovered that the rear of the aircraft was empty."

"Empty?" repeated Sam, eyebrows furrowed.

"As in all the marines were missing," Nell confirmed.

"Wow," Deeks said, impressed. "And I thought it was just your luggage that airlines lost." By his side, Kensi shot him a look, simultaneously shaking her head and smiling at his joke.

Nell continued with her briefing; "SECNAV is understandably disturbed by the disappearance of 13 Marines assigned to such an important operation. Not only is it a potential security risk, but the public relations angle is…"

"Let's just say it's a nightmare," said Hetty, materialising as if from nowhere. Callen turned to find the older woman stood by Sam's side. The ex-SEAL gave a slight, almost unnoticeable, jump; he clearly hasn't heard her enter either. "And trust me, Mr. Callen, that is something you do not wish to become involved in. Carry on, Miss. Jones."

"Their CO, 1st Lieutenant James McDonald , came into Los Angeles a week ago. He's here to oversee the last minute details. He's on his way to the boatshed as we speak."

"So we need to find out what happened to these Marines," stated Callen, "as quickly as we can."

"And quietly too," added Hetty. "This was to be a short stop over; their families weren't to even know they were coming back, for the security of the Operation. As it is, Broken Swallow has been put on hold indefinitely, until we can find out what happened to those Marines. "

"Anything on what Broken Swallow is?" asked Kensi.

"If it becomes pertinent to the case," said Hetty. And said no more.

"Okay," said Callen, turning to the rest of his team. "Sam and I'll take McDonald; Kensi, why don't you and Deeks head down to Pendleton, take a look 'round the aircraft, speak to the pilots. See if you can get us something more. Eric, Nell, dig into the Marines as much as you need to. We need to find a thread, people."

The other agents murmured their agreements, heading towards their respective tasks. Deeks paused briefly by the open door.

"Think fast, Eric," he called, tossing the ball towards the bespectacled man. Rather predictably, Eric made a grab for the ball, catching it only with the tips of his fingers. He yelped, arms failing, trying to catch the ball as it bounced from his grip, juggling it for a brief second before it went spinning away from him to crash into a stand of folders, sending them flying.

Deeks shot his partner a sheepish glance. Then, as one, they both broke for the exit before Hetty could launch into the admonishment that was clearly on the tip of her tongue.

Shaking his head amusedly, Callen headed out after Sam, but not before casting one last look back at the squad photo.

What happened to you? he thought.