Allies by WickedBlue

Warnings: h/c, swear words, torture, irate blonds and mean bad boys

Summary: NCIS: Los Angeles – The Magnificent Seven, ATF AU crossover: Callen's past as an undercover agent gets him into trouble.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta achillies-eel. Her comments were not only helpful but also highly entertaining. I feel kind off sorry for you guys that I had to delete them from the final version. You don't know what you're missing.

On to the story

Chris Larabee was on the way to meet Judge Orin Travis for lunch when he saw him.

It was just as he was leaving his car and heading for an Italian restaurant; he almost didn't recognize him at first, he was much older now. It had been - what, ten years, twelve? But he did recognize him; he would never forget that face. The bastard had killed a lot of DEA agents while working under a Russian businessman who had dealt with everything from Kalashnikovs to nuclear missiles. The ATF had once received information about a big weapons deal that would be going down, a deal involving four nuclear warheads. Working on the tip, they'd raided the weapons dealer's place in a joint operation with the DEA after scouting him out for several weeks. They had caught nearly everybody - but not this man; somehow, he had managed to escape.

His name was Alexander Darkov, his father Russian, mother American, making it possible for him to move freely between both countries.

Chris had tried to find him afterwards, but to no avail. There had been no trace of Darkov; the man had vanished completely.

And now he was here. The little bastard had the nerve to do his dirty business in his city. He would soon get what he deserved, Chris thought furiously.

"You won't get away this time, you bastard," he snarled quietly to himself as he stood to follow the man into the building.

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Callen had been undercover for two weeks now, and their subject was close to trusting him with the more important information. It would usually have taken much longer for him to get to this point, but Callen had worked under this specific cover before when investigating a high-profile drug lord the previous year.

That was where he had met Jonathan Mayfield III – John to his friends – the first time. He had been one of the buyers, but had left before the big showdown. Callen's cover had never been blown, so Vance had sent him in to make contact and get a job as one of Mayfield's informants. Mayfield had only been too happy to offer him a job, believing that Callen - or rather, his undercover persona, Allen Collins - knew a lot of people in high and low places, which could only help his business, as it had taken a hard hit when one of his main suppliers had been arrested a few weeks before. Callen had been ordered especially to Denver for this case. The NCIS team there had needed an in into Mayfield's business, and Callen, having dealt with Mayfield before, was the perfect undercover agent for this job.

At the moment, he was on his way to meet with the drug lord. Or rather, Allen Collins was.

This was the fourth time they would meet in person, and while Callen had gotten deeper into Mayfield's affairs than any other agent before him, the paranoid drug lord still didn't trust him too much. This made Callen's life a lot harder and a lot more dangerous. Mayfield still let his men search him thoroughly every time they met, and Callen didn't yet dare to bring any surveillance equipment into the restaurant. Which of course meant that backup was further away than he would like it to be.

The Denver team had set up a watching post in a house opposite the restaurant, but they could only see who was going into the place, and who came out. And while they seemed to know what they were doing, Callen couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable without Sam there to watch his six.

Entering the restaurant, he nodded at two of Mayfield's goons who were watching the entry door to the drug lord's office. Callen knew that Mayfield had quite a few more people in the restaurant, one of whom would now be reporting his arrival to the boss.

He took a covert look around to take a note of their locations, just in case, then turned and ordered a beer at the bar, smiling at Becky, the waitress. After all, it would look suspicious if he didn't take on Mayfield's offer of free drinks while he was waiting. It also helped that the glass of one of the picture frames above the shelf reflected the entry to Mayfield's office, and most of his 'muscles', perfectly.

But while he was as cautious as always, he wasn't really worried. This was just a routine gig. His cover was pretty much airtight, courtesy of Eric, and this meeting was just one of many that would take place in the following weeks as they worked out the kinks in a bigger weapons deal.

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Callen periodically checked the reflection in the picture frame for any changes while continuing to keep up the pretence of talking to the waitress. Even with this precaution, a sudden attack from behind took him totally by surprise, and he went down hard.

Slightly dizzy from the fall, he saw a dark, fuzzy figure looming over him. Years of training and experience helped him dodge the hands that reached down to grab him off the floor. Rolling away, he unleashed a kick to his attacker's unprotected side. Although the position he was in - still lying on the ground as he was - didn't allow for too much force behind the kick, it still bought him enough time to jump up and get some distance between him and his unknown attacker. But the other man was fast, and before he could do anything to stop it, he was grabbed and thrown against the bar.

"Darkov, you son of a bitch," the man snarled, kicking him in the side. Callen felt one of his ribs give, and the sharp pain pushed away the darkness rising up on him. Still in a daze, it took him a moment to figure out where he recognized that name from.

"Shit," he hissed when it came back to him. This wasn't good; this wasn't good at all. This could actually blow his cover and get him into deep trouble.

Well. Deeper trouble than he already was in, if that was possible.

But he didn't have time to think about it further, as a moment later he was pulled up again while the blond readied himself for his next attack. This time Callen managed to step aside and block the oncoming punch with his left arm, while at the same time delivering a hard right into the man's gut which made him fold over. A powerful elbow to his now unprotected back made him crash hard to the ground.

The man fell to the ground, winded, but unfortunately still conscious. He looked up at Callen, his eyes blazing furiously. Callen knew he had to take him out while he was down, but he couldn't make his body move from where he was half-leaning against the bar, panting from the pain. He could only watch as the black-clad man got up and threw himself against Callen again, attacking him viciously.

This time Callen could swear he actually heard one of his ribs breaking.

He must have blacked out for an instant, because he suddenly found himself on the ground, the world around him blurry and swirling violently.

Through his hazy vision, he watched as the blond advanced towards him, growling furiously, "Alexander Darkov, you are hereby arrested for weapons dealing and the murder of three federal agents."

Callen just looked at him, too dizzy to be able to make sense of what he had just heard. Just before he fell unconscious, he heard shouting, and felt someone grab him. Then everything went black.

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~ End of chapter ~

A/N: This fic is complete, but I still have to clean it up a bit and will upload the next chapters as soon as I have time.

Please review. It will probably take you a lot less time than it took me just to come up with the name for the fic . :-)