Title: Who You Are
Author: DizzyDrea
Summary: He was adrift, lost in something she didn't know if she could reach, and it scared her.
Rating: T
Spoilers: Season Two, specifically 2.6 Standoff and 2.24 Familia
Author's Notes: So, I finally watched the last four episodes of the season…the ones that have been sitting on my DVR for two months. A bit of a mind-blower, the final fifteen minutes. Anyway, I started rolling around in my mind what would happen after. Kensi couldn't leave it alone, therefore my muse couldn't leave it alone. Inspired in part by the song "Who Are You When I'm Not Looking", by Blake Shelton.
Disclaimer: NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles and all its particulars are the property of CBS, Paramount, Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Shane Brennan, Shane Brennan Productions, and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.
~&O&~
Kensi Blye slipped into the dark, quiet hotel room, not sure what to expect. After the beach, they'd headed for a non-descript hotel several blocks away, and booked themselves into a set of rooms on the same floor. Once settled, they'd headed out for dinner—well, everyone except their team leader.
G Callen had stayed behind. He hadn't spoken, had barely blinked since the meltdown on the beach. No one had understood, but then again they didn't really need to. Whatever was going on—with the case and not just with Callen—was huge, and none of them had expected to come out of it untouched.
So, Kensi had palmed Callen's room key, promising herself that she'd check on him after dinner. She knew she'd have to be the one to do it, because Sam hadn't been able to get through to him on the beach, and because for all that they'd accepted Deeks into their lives, he was still the outsider.
Not that they hadn't both been worried. Sam Hanna worried about Callen as if it were his second career. He'd confided to her that Hetty had called him Callen's anchor. Which was probably true, even if neither man wanted to admit it.
And Marty Deeks was a good cop, but he had issues. They all had a past, but Deeks' past seemed intent on pounding him over the head at every opportunity. And because of that, he'd never really be able to bond with Callen. It was sad, really, because Kensi thought they might make good friends. They were both loyal and dedicated, with a stubborn streak a mile wide. But all that damage made it hard for them to look at each other without seeing themselves.
So, that left her.
She stood quietly, just inside the door as she allowed her eyes to adjust to the near darkness. She could see him silhouetted in the window across the room, arms crossed, shoulders stiff, staring out at nothing and everything.
Her heart ached for him. She didn't know what had caused him to collapse on the beach, but she knew it had to be big. He was never not on guard. He'd stayed alive by being vigilant to a degree that most would find bordered on paranoia.
But not today. Hetty Lange's disappearance had rattled them all, but Callen most of all. But he'd sucked it up and promised to do what had to be done to bring her home, alive and well whether she wanted it or not.
But the second they'd stepped out of the car and onto the beach, Callen had frozen. His face had gone blank, his breathing sped up. She figured that if she'd been standing close enough, she'd have heard his heart beating like it was trying to get out of his chest. And who knows, maybe it had been.
But whatever had spooked him, he hadn't said anything. That was what really scared her; scared Sam, and even Deeks, though he wouldn't admit it. Callen was never not in control, and none of them knew what to do about that.
So Kensi had taken it upon herself to see if she could help. He might not want to talk; she knew he preferred to keep his personal business his own. And she had no doubt that this was personal.
Even when Tracy Keller—if that was even her name—found her way back into his life, he hadn't reacted by shutting down. Instead, he'd thrown himself into the case. Which probably wasn't any better, but at least Kensi didn't worry that he'd lost it. And he'd still been giving orders and leaving clues. He'd still been in charge.
Now, though, she didn't know what to do. He was adrift, lost in something she didn't know if she could reach, and it scared her.
"You didn't have to come."
His voice startled her. She hadn't realized she'd been standing there so long, but he'd obviously heard her come in. So, not as out of it as she'd feared. At least that was something.
"I know," she said, taking a step inside. "But I wanted to."
Callen sighed. His shoulders tensed even further. She moved quietly until she was standing behind and to his side, and now she could see the furrowed brow and the clenched jaw. He looked like hell, but she didn't dare say it out loud.
He didn't say anything, and she thought about leaving, but her feet were rooted to the floor. She wasn't going to run away when he needed her. She wasn't that person. She only hoped he didn't get angry or throw her out for meddling.
"What's wrong, G?" she asked. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, but when his muscles tensed even further, she pulled away as if she'd been burned.
The minutes ticked by, the silence becoming deafening. Kensi didn't want to leave, didn't want to leave him like this, but she was beginning to see that she had no choice. Forcing the issue wouldn't help, and might do more harm than good.
She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans, then tensed her body as she prepared to step away and leave the room.
Once again, Callen surprised her.
"That beach," he said, and it was said so quietly that she almost missed it.
"What about the beach?" she asked when he didn't continue, taking another step closer so she could hear him better.
"I've been to that beach."
She felt like he'd slapped her. He had to be wrong. They were in Romania, for crying out loud. Callen had grown up in Los Angeles, hadn't he?
"Are you sure it's the same beach?" she asked tentatively. "I mean, beaches tend to look alike, and you were—"
"It was that beach," he said, cutting across her without apology. "I remember the sign."
She cast her memory back, trying to remember her brief glimpse of the beach before they'd hustled off to the hotel. There was a sign, halfway between the road and the water, but she had no idea what it said because it was all in Romanian.
"It's probably a warning," she said. "They have those signs all over in LA."
It wasn't that she didn't believe him, just that a child's memory can play tricks. Things people remember weren't really memories, sometimes just things they wished they remembered.
"I remember that sign," he said, and his voice was filled with such certainty.
"How is that possible?" she asked. "You grew up in LA. You've traveled all over the world, but you've never been to Romania. Don't even speak the language, as far as I know."
He sighed again, and dropped his chin to his chest. "When I was a kid, I remember being at the beach one day. I was playing in the sand, and this guy walked up to me and handed me an antique toy soldier—you know, like GI Joe, only really old. He had a strange tattoo on his wrist, one I'd never seen before."
Kensi didn't say anything, just waited for him to go on.
"I've kept the soldier all these years, but I really didn't remember where I'd gotten it until that run in with Arkady a few months ago." He sighed again and uncrossed his arms, shoving his hands into his pockets. "When I saw Niko dead, I remembered. He was working on another toy soldier when he was killed, and he had the same tattoo on his arm as the man who gave me the first one. I think it was him."
It could have been coincidence, but even Kensi didn't believe that. Not where G Callen was concerned. "He could have been trying to trick you, gain your confidence somehow."
Callen turned and gave her The Look. She smirked. Right, Callen didn't get fooled by anybody. Ever.
"I think he was trying to warn me," he said instead.
"About what?"
"This?" It was a question, as though he couldn't trust his instincts about this whole situation.
"But why?" she asked. "What reason would he have to warn you? And why not send an actual warning instead of something as cryptic as that toy soldier?"
"I wish I knew," Callen said, shaking his head. "I don't remember much about that day. I wish I did. Maybe there's something about that day that I'm supposed to remember. Maybe that was part of the warning."
They fell into silence once again, though it was less tense than before. It seemed that just by talking about it, Callen had been able to release some of the stress. Kensi didn't pretend that this was the end of it; she knew better than that. There was something else, something more bothering him. But if he didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't. She only had to hope that he'd want to.
"What if…" he trailed off.
"'What if' what?"
He took a deep breath. "What if Vance is wrong? What if I really am the man they want dead?"
She wanted to be stunned. She wanted to deny it, because his voice sounded defeated somehow. The trouble was, she couldn't, because in some weird way, it all made sense. Having memories of playing on a beach in Romania; a Romanian crime family wanting him dead. It wasn't as easy as connect the dots, but it made a lot more sense than anything else.
And would it really be so bad? If he were the man the Comescu family thought he was, at least he would know who was. Not that that would be much of a consolation if it turned out he was the last survivor of a rival family. A rival crime family.
"If you are, then you are," she said quietly. "We'll deal with it. You aren't alone, G."
"Thanks, Kens," he said, ghosting a smile. Then, his face fell. "But what if it's not that easy? I mean, who does that make me? I thought I knew, but now?"
He shook his head, and her heart broke just a little more. His identity had always been his Achilles heel. Any time anyone had dangled just a little bit of information about his family in front of him, he'd jumped at it and to hell with the consequences. It had gotten him into more than his share of trouble, and she understood it all too well.
Knowing who her family was, taking her identity from the woman her father raised her to be, it was easy for her. She knew. She had the memories and the stories and the lessons she'd learned all through her childhood. He had none of that, and it must be like hell on earth, knowing that he was a blank slate. He was who he'd made himself to be. And maybe that was the answer—the only answer that mattered.
Kensi stepped up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder, gently turning him to look at her.
"You are G Callen," she said, putting as much conviction into her voice as she could. "You are the bravest, most loyal man I know. You fight like a wildcat when you know you're right. You and Sam have this crazy brother thing going that defies logic because you're so different. But it works for you. I know you're desperate to know who you are but the thing is, you already do."
She stepped closer, invading his personal space, and placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. "What matters is who you are inside. We all have pasts; we all had lives before this one. But the truth of who you are—who we all are—is inside us. And whether you're the son of a police commissioner or a crime lord, it's who and what you are right now that matters. The rest is someone else's problem."
"You sure about that?" he asked, quirking a lopsided grin.
"Yep," she said, nodding even as she returned his smile. "What can I say? It's a cliché, but like all cliché's, there's always a little truth inside."
His gaze turned serious as he searched her face, intense eyes looking for the lie in her words. She met his gaze steadily, willing him to see her conviction, her absolute belief in her words. She knew they all had their hidden depths; they had to keep their truest self hidden in order to do their jobs. The face they showed the world wasn't the whole story. It was just the first layer. And only they knew how deep it really went.
It was just like Hetty had said to her before she disappeared, and now she finally understood what the other woman had been trying to tell her. They could do the job without being defined by the job. The depths and layers were important for no other reason than this: you have to know who you are, or else you'll be lost. Not just today, but on the day you walk away from it all.
Callen must have found what he was looking for, because he released the breath he'd been holding and pulled her to him, folding her into his arms. Kensi slipped her hands around his waist and held him close, allowing him to take comfort from her if he could.
They stood there like that for long minutes. Finally, Callen pulled back, running his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
"Anytime."
He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. When he pulled back, she could see his face had relaxed. She skimmed her eyes over his torso, noting the absence of stress in his shoulders. He was unwinding, coming back from wherever he'd been, and she was glad, because if this hadn't worked, she didn't know what she'd have done.
"You hungry at all?" she asked into the silence.
He was about to open his mouth when his stomach grumbled. Loudly. They both chuckled.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said on a smirk. "Sam brought you back something, if you think you can eat."
"Yeah," he said, squeezing her shoulders before letting go. "We can talk about how we're gonna get into that beach house while we're at it."
"You sure you still want to do this?" she asked as they made their way to the door.
"Hetty risked her life to protect me," he said, opening the door for her. "I owe it to her to get her out."
Kensi just nodded. It sounded like Callen was back on his game. Whatever doubts he had had either been banished or tucked away in a dark corner to deal with later. She took a deep breath, relieved that she wouldn't have to watch him so closely. She'd meant what she'd said. She only hoped that he'd believe it someday.
~Finis