Maybe This Christmas 42

8/3/2019 Maybe This Christmas 42

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Another long installment, courtesy of both slushy and devious plot bunnies.

"You don't know that." His face was suddenly completely blank and devoid of any expression or emotion. "You don't knowanything about Macy."

"I do. And I know that you made love in the Mission." Kensi spoke very slowly, taking great care to enunciate each word

precisely.

"You can't know that." He was keeping a tight rein on his emotions, pulling them down deep inside himself, but an oldflame was starting to flicker within, a flame Callen had deliberately kept dormant for all this time, one he had thought wasdead was now sparking back into life. Macy. Just the mention of her name and a thousand images flooded into his mind.

Macy, who he'd loved so deeply and who had died. A part of Callen had died along with her and until Louise had come

along he ahd thought that he would never love again.

"But I do," she said simply and with such complete transparent honesty that Callen had no choice but to believe her. Thiswas Kensi, after all. She had no guile to entrap him with, nor had she any reason to try to trick him or to trap him. This

was Kensi and he could trust her. She wouldn't lie to him, and she certainly would not lie to him about something like this.

Kensi reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. "I know Macy loved you. She told me, Callen. And she told me she

never stopped loving you."

"Really?" Callen hated the way his voice almost broke.

For just a second, Kensi could see the faint shadow of the child he had once been, before the cynicism of adult life had set

in. In that brief instant she could glimpse the boy who had played in the sunshine on a beach in a far-off land, in the dayswhen he spoke a foreign language and dreamt only of golden days ahead, living in the blissful ignorance of childhood whenthere was no problem that his mother could not sort out. That existence had been brutally shattered and the child bundled

from pillar to post, so that his purity of spirit had been crushed.

"Oh yes. You need to know how much she loved you."

"I loved her too." And he had thought they had tomorrow and the day after that as well, he had truly believed that therewould always be time enough to say these things that were understood between them. How wrong he had been. If only itwas possible to rewind time, to go back and say all the things that meant so much. But the past was another country and

once you left, its borders were closed forever. There was no going back, not ever.

"I know. And I think Macy knew too." Are you listening, Macy? Can you hear him? Can you hear the pain in his voice, see

the look of anguish in his eyes? Callen really loved you, Macy.

"I've wanted to talk about her for so long," Callen said and Kensi thought that her heart might very well break at theyearning tone in his voice. "We were like Sam we kept it all hidden away. All those secrets and lies." They had comeback to haunt him once again. All his life, every single aspect of it seemed to be ruled by a complex set of rules that no

longer seemed important. Why had he ever thought they were?

"I'm here. You can talk to me and I'll listen." And maybe Macy could finally hear the things you never said to her when she

was alive. Perhaps that way she could finally find the peace she had been searching for. Kensi realised that she was beinggiven the opportunity to finally right an old wrong, to be the person that made the difference, who instigate that one small

change that had cataclysmic results.

"That would be good." It would release a burden that had been preying on his soul for too long.

"Macy asked me to give you a message. She said I was to tell you to love like you'd never been hurt and to live like it's

heaven on earth."

And that did it. Those few words swept away the last barrier he had erected so carefully around his heart and Callen felt all

the ancient grief resurge with powerful force, consuming his body. "She said that?"

"And she meant it." Kensi reached out and took hold of his hands. "It's time to let go, Callen. Macy's gone but you've got

to start to live again start to love again."


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She saw that his eyes were bright and shining with tears, so many that soon he would no longer be able to contain themand they would start to overflow. She didn't think that Callen would want her to see him in such a vulnerable state, so it

seemed easier to pull him towards her and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

"Oh Callen. Let it out. Let it all out."

Her voice no longer seemed oddly husky, Callen realised: it seemed low and reassuring, full of warmth and love. He felt

safe enough to permit the tears he could no longer hold back and as they felt the pain seemed to flow out of his body. Allthe years he had spent learning to control his emotions fled away; all the lonely, miserable years of pretending he didn't

hurt as he was shuffled around from one foster home to the next seemed to disappear as surely as the sparkling frostdissolves in sunlight. There was no longer any requirement to maintain all the protective barricades he had so carefullyconstructed. It seemed that joy and sorrow were complimentary emotions, both equally powerful and both with the abilityto empower you, if you were brave enough to accept the challenge. By walling himself off from possibility of emotional

turmoil, Callen discovered that he had also isolated himself from the full power of love. But there was no longer anything

to be afraid of.

"Macy said that she will always love you. And you're to go forward now, with no regrets."

The time for looking back over his shoulder, for letting the past influence his every action was in the past and final ly hecould start to walk towards the future that was waiting for him. Callen was weeping openly now, and the room echoed to

his harsh sobs, as Kensi held him closely and let one hand stroke his head slowly.

"Let yourself love again, Callen."

It was still early days and the doctors had warned her that her recovery could take some weeks and set-backs could ariseat any time: head injuries were tricky things, they said. But Kensi knew that the familiar voice she heard inside her head

was no illusion, nor was it the remnants of the blow she'd sustained.

"Thank you, Kensi. We'll have to do this again one day." It sounded as if Macy was smiling.

"Anytime," she whispered, and Kensi knew that she would always miss Macy. One person could make such a hugedifference in your life, turning everything inside out and upside down, so that what you once thought you knew as certainfact was revealed to be a fal lacy. Without Macy, Kensi would have continued on denying that she had any feelings for

Deeks, she would have kept on pushing him away and would have continued going home, night after night, to an emptyapartment. She didn't want to end up l ike Hetty alone except for her memories. Life meant nothing if you undertook the

journey alone when what you were crying out for a fellow-traveller, for the one person who could make the dark days

shine a little brighter. And just like Callen, she wanted to bid farewell to the shadows and walk in the sunshine once again.

It wasn't until he got back to the Mission that Callen realised he had never asked Kensi how she had known about Macy.Presumably the two women had talked about the relationship at some point before Macy's death, although they had never

seemed particularly close. But what other possible reason could there be? How else could Kensi have known? Getting thatmessage, almost from beyond the grave, was uncanny. It swept away the few doubts that lingered in his mind aboutactually committing to something more than a casual affair. This time, he was going to work at it, because this time it wasgoing to be different; he was playing the long game and he was playing to win. Louise had rushed into his li fe like ahurricane leaving him breathless and unsure about which way was up and which was down, but Callen hadn't had so much

fun in years: he felt alive again, rather than just merely existing. That message from Macy had almost been like a blessing,as if she was giving him permission to move on and to live again. God, Macy had been tough. And she'd been tender,surprisingly tender. He'd had some of the best months of his life with her, and now he was looking forward to the future ina way Callen had not permitted himself to do for far too long. It was almost as if Macy had handed him back his life and he

knew how mad she would be if he didn't take full advantage of it .

Full of new resolve, Callen stopped by an appliance store and came out carrying not only a coffee machine, but a juicer aswell. There was no time like the present after all, and he might as well start off as he meant to continue. The past was just

that in the past and he had not only shut the door, but locked it and thrown away the key. Right now he had theopportunity to make his life whatever he wanted it to be, and Callen realised he wanted it to be full, he wanted to build upa store of golden memories they could reminisce about. More than anything he wanted to experience once again what itfelt like to have the security of love and commitment and to know that he was the pole star in someone else's firmament,the fixed point around whom their entire universe revolved. Only it was strange the way Kensi had known about Macy. And

that message the quote from Mark Twain: love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on earth. Someday

he would have to ask Kensi about that. But in the meantime, there was the small matter of David Gillander.


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"Call me Dave." He was confident, self-assured and obviously not intimidated by the boat-shed interview room. Of course,

he was a Marine, and a good one, judging by his service record. Watching from Ops, Callen found the whole experienceslightly surreal, being more accustomed to being in the interview room, to leading the interview, rather than being a

passive observer. Idly, he wondered how long it had taken Hetty to adjust to this very different role.

"He's not trying to hide anything," Nell commented, watching his body language. The man seemed entirely at ease.

"So either he's telling the truth, or he's a great actor." Callen looked at him closely, trying to find any resemblance toHetty, but failing. Other than similar colouring, there was nothing to mark them as mother and son, except perhaps for the

way in which they held themselves, and the certainty that characterised their speech.

"Or he believes what he's saying is the truth." Nell found she was growing increasingly cynical the longer she worked forNCIS and the more she saw. It was almost impossible to maintain the wide-eyed naivety she'd come into this job with:little by little it was chipped away as she was exposed to more and more horrors, daily evidence of just how nasty, brutaland short life could be. Brain-washing might not be spoken about much, but everybody knew it happened, whether

covertly by subliminal messaging and influencing, or by more overt and intrusive means.

Truth be told and all appearances to the contrary, David Gillander was about as nervous as he'd ever been in his entire life.Doing the right thing, speaking out and telling the truth about Schiff had turned into something altogether different, and

he'd not only been propelled into an international incident the authorities were desperately trying to manage behind the

scenes, but now it looked as if he'd inadvertently managed to drag Hetty into this whole mess. It was difficult to reach aninformed judgement about the two men sitting opposite him were they loyal to Hetty or were they part of what seemedlike a conspiracy against her, one that he was being used as an unwitting fuse to ignite and send her life exploding intonothingness? He'd have to play this one very carefully indeed. Right now, Gillander had no idea where his birth mother

was, she seemed to have dropped right off the face of the planet, and the fact that he'd been called into the agency for

questioning was clearly not good.

"Tell us about Schiff," the younger one invited. He was blond and blue-eyed, looked like your typical Californian surferdude, which probably meant that he was most at home crawling through jungle undergrowth with a knife clenchedbetween his teeth, if the rumours about OSP were true. It was said that they recruited covertly, taking people from allbranches of the services, people who could be counted to get the job done and not to ask too many questions whilst doingso. So Gillander wasn't about to be fooled by this man with the laid-back persona, who looked like he used to be a choir

boy and an Eagle Scout before he discovered girls, dope and guns but not necessarily in that order.

The other man was a large, brooding presence and that disturbed Gillander. He'd never trusted the strong, silent type,

mainly because in his experience they generally turned out to either be homicidal maniacs or psychopaths. Then again,maybe that just said something about the Marine Corps' recruiting policy. They weren't exactly looking for people whospecialised in needlepoint after all. Anyway, this guy looked like he'd fit right in to any Special Ops team. He was a big,bald man who looked like he could hold his own in a fight even if that fight was ten against one. Heck, even his muscleshad muscles. So, they'd teamed the friendly unassuming one with the Incredible Hulk. It wasn't exactly subtle, but he

could work with that.

"What do you want to know?" Dave invited.

Deeks felt like sighing in frustration. God, he hated it when they answered with a question. If you weren't careful, things

started going around in circles and Sam was clearly in no mood for that sort of verbal game today.

"Shiff was found hanging and yet you went on record saying that he was murdered. That's a serious charge."

"Not as serious as a charge of murder. Which it was. Not suicide." He spoke in short, decisive sentences, maintaining eye

contact.

"So why do you think he was killed?"

"Because I knew Schiff. He was a small-town boy his daddy was pastor of the Baptist Church and Schiff was seriously

thinking about taking up the Ministry himself. He went to services all the time, he read his Bible and he prayed every day."Gillander leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "A good God-fearing boy killing himself like that? I don't think

so. Plus, he was going to propose to his girl back home."

"So maybe he was overcome with guilt about what he'd done," Sam suggested.


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"Guilt? About showing these four idiots up for what they were?" Gillander shook his head. "Schiff was absolutely convinced

he'd done the right thing. Why should he feel guilty?"

"The right thing?" Sam's voice got louder. "If he didn't feel guilty, then he should have. He deliberated damaged US foreignrelations at a crucial time. And that's just for starters. His actions put all our troops who are still out there serving their

country at an increased level of danger, over and above all the other dangers they're facing. And he brought what shouldhave been an internal matter out into public and risked damaging the Corps forever. How about that? Your buddy Schiff

realised what he'd done and knew that his career was over."

The gloves were off now and Sam had lost what little patience he still had. Standing up, he loomed over the table, comingface to face with Gillander, so close that their noses were almost touching. "Your buddy could have done the right thing informed his commanding officer, taken things through official channels. That's what he should have done, instead of

dragging the name of the Marine Corps through the dirt."

"My buddy?" If it hadn't been such a laughable suggestion, Gillander would have laughed out loud. "Schiff was asanctimonious little prick. I couldn't stand the guy. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't stand up and tell the truth. I was

raised better than that."

"That bears out the medical evidence." Deeks slapped a copy of the autopsy report down. "Looks like Schiff was strangledmanually, and then strung up after he was dead. The ligature marks don't correspond to the other marks on his neck, and

there's not enough haemorrhaging from them. Plus, there was no note. Most people who hang themselves leave a note."

"So who hated Schiff enough to kill him?"

Gillander sighed. "Start with his platoon and then keep going. Even the padre didn't like him much. Mainly because Schiffwould send him detailed critques of his sermons. Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not condoning what those guys did back

there. And I didn't like Schiff. But that's no reason to let someone get away with murder."

"I'm glad to hear it. You ever consider they dragged the Marine Corps down too?"

"Every minute of every day." Gillander's eyes were dark with anger. "What they did was disgraceful and I'm not going todefend it. But you've got to understand what it's like out there" Everything was different out there. Men came back l ikedrained husks, with a disconcerting stare in their eyes. It was like living on another planet sometimes. You came home on

leave, but you knew you would have to go back and live through that hell all over again.

"I understand," Sam informed him. "Believe me, I understand."

There was something about the way that he said that, something about the look in his eyes and GIllander knew he hadserved in action. You could always tell. He sat back as Sam continued to talk, speaking with genuine passion and

commitment.

"But there are rules of engagement and they are there for a purpose. We were out there for a reason and then theyfucked it all up for some stupid joke, degrading dead men, who died for what they believed in. That is not what the US is

about and they are not what the Corps is about. And then Schiff went and made it one whole lot worse."

The whole affair was a disaster, from start to finish. The dead men were defiled, the four Marines would be dishonourably

discharged at best, Schiff was dead and international relations were poised on a knife edge. And just to make matters

really peachy, someone was trying to drag Hetty into the whole sorry mess.

"Granted. Schiff was a fool but that doesn't condone what happened to him. If we let this one drop, then we're just as

guilty as those four Marines. We might as well just piss on the Constitution and be done with it." Gillander was amazed to

see both men relax visibly when he said that.

"So you've no idea who might have done this to Schiff? Deeks asked, just to make things absolutely clear for the tape. He

knew Callen was observing back in Ops, but there was no telling which authority figures might also be patched in.

"Could have been another Marine, could have been anyone who managed to work out who uploaded it to that site." DaveGillander sighed. "I'm not totally stupid. It could even have been sanctioned officially or unofficially. But I don't know.

And that's the truth."

"I believe you." Sam nodded his confirmation as Deeks continued. "But this has caused some ripples. And more people are

getting caught up in this affair." It wasn't safe to say anymore, so he just had to hope that Gillander would take the hint.


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Sam took up the cudgels. "You'll probably want to be getting back to your family. They'll be worried about you."

You didn't rise to the rank of Staff Sergeant in the US Marine Corps by being stupid. The only visible sign on the man's face

was a slight widening of his eyes, nothing more. "So I can go? What if I find out anything else and need to get in touch?"

The man was good, Deeks had to give him that. But then he wouldn't expect anything less from Hetty's son. He handedacross a card, with his own cell number scrawled on the back, thanked him for his assistance and then watched as another

agent ushered him out of one exit, while he and Sam left by another. By mutual, if unspoken consent they waited untilthey were clear of the building, walking among the crowds before either man spoke again. If this was all coming down to

dirty tricks, then you couldn't be too careful.

"You think that was enough to clear Hetty?" It was something, and yet it was nothing.

Sam felt an utter weariness seep into his body. "There's something more to this. Like someone, somewhere has just been

waiting for a chance to pin Hetty down and make her squirm."

"Really? Someone hates Hetty that much?"

"Or feels threatened by her."

"Maybe she knows too much?" Deeks mused.

"Undoubtedly. Hetty's been in this game a long time." And over the years she had worked with hundreds, if not thousands

of agents, on both sides of the board. There was no telling who might wish to see her career brought to a sudden and

ignominious end.

"So this one's personal?"

"Looks like it."

"That's awkward. Not knowing who we can trust. Or maybe we should just go along with the X-Files adage and trust no-

one?"

"Probably best. No-one outside the team, anyway."

"What about Nell and Eric?"

"Eric was a hacker: there's a possibility they could be holding charges over his head and using that as leverage. And Nell?You've seen how she and Vance act together." It was just a l ittle too close for comfort, like there was a previous

relationship there. God, he hoped they hadn't slept together.

"Kind of hinky?" Deeks suggested.

"Yeah. Kind of hinky." Normally Sam would have pulled Deeks up for that, but the man was right, 'hinky' was the correct

word. There was definitely something more than met the eye going on there and that made him uneasy.

"So we trust our team: and no-one else." This was sounding a whole lot like Romania all over again, Deeks realised, with a

sense of foreboding.

"That works for me." And Hetty, of course, but that went without saying. Everyone else was now officially a suspect. With ashudder, Sam realised that this had now turned into a covert operation, spying from within, trying to uncover the traitor intheir midst. It felt like he'd slipped into some movie about the Cold War, with double agents, zither music and rainy scenes

filmed in black and white, only this was California and the sun was shining, the tourists were snapping photographs andeverything seemed so normal and unthreatening. But then it always did when the real enemy was within, that was the

problem and why the threat was so invidious: because you never realised how deadly it was until it was too late.

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Maybe This Christmas 42