POISK

(Russian for "The Search")

Third in the Nallen Series: Lines Crossed and Hunted.

A/N: In memory of Motsie of Atlantis, who loved the first two parts of this trilogy. Writing will never be the same without my BooBoo Bear. R.I.P. my friend. I'm sorry I never got to write this before you died. But you are in my thoughts as I write the last part of this Nallen story.

Chapter 1

Los Angeles

The statistics for children who'd grown up in the Foster Care system weren't good. Eighty percent of those who end up in prison grew up in Foster Care. Only fifty-four percent complete high school, even less get the opportunity to go to college. G. Callen ran his hand through his dark hair and sucked in a heavy breath. Flashbacks of his days in juvenile hall haunted him every now and then. Last night had been one of them. He looked out at the waves as they pounded onto the beach, their rhythm mirrored his own heart beat.

The wind was wild, but instead of retreating to sit inside his car, he allowed it to whip his face, a constant reminder he was alive and safe. The nightmares had vanished for five years, while he lived a sheltered and what most would consider a normal life. But last night they had returned with the storm that hit Los Angeles. It had been wild, with many fallen branches across roads, flooded low lying areas, and power outages. No one could have been expected to sleep through it, but his children had.

Thoughts of Alice and Tristan brought a solace to his mind. They wiped the cobwebs of the nightmare away, which was a blessing. If only he'd had memories of his family as a child, they could have done the same thing, back when he needed it. But instead, the tragedy of witnessing his mother's murder had caused him to forget them and who he was.

Approaching fifty, he still didn't have a name, other than a letter. Living a lie as Stephen Campbell had done wonders to him, giving him a sense of worth, for the first time in a real long time. Now he'd returned to Los Angeles, the need to find answers on who he really was, became stronger and stronger.

However, the constant worry over Hetty consumed his thoughts. He hated leaving her in Queen Charlotte, but he was torn. Torn on staying at her side, and finding his father. He closed his eyes, the old black and white film flittered across this synapses. He could almost reach out to him. So tall compared to the baby he was in that film. He exhaled a shaky breath. His emotions were skittish to say the least. The need to find his father had taken over his life in the past, but now, he was desperate. That last chance of finding him after all these years of searching. Even after he'd been given the news his father was dead, he only half believed it. Now, with a new strength of determination, he was going to find him. He had to. There was no ifs, buts or maybe's. G. Callen was going to find out his name. His sanity depended on it. But now, the need was not just for for himself, but also for his wife and children. Alice and Tristan deserved to know who their father really is, let alone he himself.

"I thought I may find you here."

Callen turned, the large form of his partner overshadowed the sun rays peeping over the mountains. "Sam. What are you doing here?"

"Nell's worried about you. Your kids are wondering where you are." Sam slipped down onto the cool wet sand, goose bumps formed on his forearms.

"I heard it was a big one last night. Seven metre waves were recorded along the coast during the storm. I imagine Eric and Deeks won't be out surfing this morning." Sam was only providing small chit chat, but he hoped it would give him the opportunity to open up to him.

Callen's head turned, his blue eyes searched his brown ones. "The nightmares are back." He gave a hollow laugh, "I've had none for five years while we were away, but as soon as I return here, they're back again."

Sam cleared his throat. "You've been through a great deal in this city. Some good, some not good at all."

"You're not wrong there." Callen returned his focus back onto the Pacific Ocean, watching, gathering the momentum to do what he needed to do. But this time, running off in search for his father wasn't going to be easy. The pull to stay with Nell and their children was strong.

"I need to go and find my dad. I feel like if I don't go now, I'll lose my last chance of ever finding out who I am." His eyes were like liquid cobalt. "Arkady said he'd help me. But now he's keeping Hetty company. I have no idea where to look…"

"I'll help you, G. I'm not letting you go without me, anyway." His eyes were like smooth brown pebbles. The determination shone through clear as day.

He nodded his head. "Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it. But what about NCIS? Granger won't allow you to go."

"Since when has that stopped me from following you, G? I followed you to Romania to rescue Hetty, didn't I?"

"Deeks and Kensi too. But I can't risk them coming again. It's not their fight."

"We're family. We're all in this together, whether you know it or not."

"They're hurt we hid from them for so long. I've burned my bridges with them, probably with Hetty too."

"No you haven't, G." He gently squeezed is shoulder. "Come on. Let's go home."

Sam's cell buzzed. He looked at the id, it was Eric. "Eric, now's not a good time—-"

"Arkady's been kidnapped from Queen Charlotte Hospital. McGee called Granger for help. From what I could find from the cameras, he was taken to the local airport, the flight manifest stated the jet was destined for St Petersburg."

Sam furrowed his brow, he kept his eyes close on Callen, worried he'd go lone wolf once he found out.

"We'll be there in five." He disconnected the call and looked at his partner. "We've got to go."

"What's going on?" Callen's gut was churning inside, he knew the news wasn't good. "Is it Hetty?"

"She's okay. But someone was still lurking around Queen Charlotte. Arkady's been kidnapped."

"What!" Anger ripped through Callen. The old Russian had gotten under his skin, he had grown fond of him, especially over the past five years. It was like they'd taken his own father from him. Perhaps that was what they wanted, they couldn't get to him, so they took someone close to him. They must have recognised Arkady, connecting the Russian to him. Guilt washed over him.

"But we had Bishop and McGee protecting them," Callen finally added.

"Protecting Hetty. Arkady walked outside, he was alone when he was grabbed, going by what Eric told me. Come on, G. Let's see what we can do to rescue him."

Callen shuddered out a heavy breath. The last time he'd stepped inside the Mission, it was Nell who'd been kidnapped. Now the closest he had to a father was taken. He couldn't keep this up. Something had to give. A rage he hadn't seen since he was fifteen, began to rear its ugly head. He fisted his hands either side of him, as he followed Sam to the challenger, barely keeping it under check.

Office of Special Projects

Callen hesitated outside the Mission, his hand rubbing over the rough old wooden door. He took in a deep breath and slowly released it.

"You okay, G?" Sam looked worriedly over to him. He understood the memories he last had in this place, but the need to rescue Arkady took president.

"Arkady needs us. Let's go."

Callen's eyes darted over to his old partner and met his gaze. He merely nodded, he had no words to say, there were too many emotions running through his system at that moment.

He followed Sam, he was taken back to all those years ago when he first walked inside this building. Sam's arms outstretched, showing him the grand new home for the Office of Special Projects. His shoes echoed on the tiled floor, the silence hit him in an instant.

"Where is everyone?" His eyes scanned the building. They rested on Hetty's desk where Granger currently sat. How things had changed. In the nine years since he'd first stepped inside this building, they'd lost too many of their people. Macy, Dom, Renko, Hunter… just to name a few. There were more, far more than he could register. Two days before, he'd learned about Ivan Petrov's death, seven years earlier. Another one gone. They'd almost lost him on numerous occasions—-too many to count. Now they'd almost lost Hetty. No, he couldn't allow anyone to harm Arkady. He was fighting back.

He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, the black metal doors swooshed open and up on the large screen, glaring down at them, was the footage Eric had scoured. Arkady had no hope of defending himself. The team of four men had moved from various points, catching him by surprise. From a park bench, another walking passed him, as if he was there to visit a patient. A third smoking near the entrance, the fourth pulled up suddenly, allowing for the quick escape. It was a planned attack to take him, Callen realised. He gripped the electronic table firmly with his hands, afraid he'd hurt someone he cared about. Who was he kidding, just by being alive, he hurt those he loved. Not just the enemies he'd racked up through this line of business, but because of who's son he was.

Owen Granger stepped in behind them, his eyes darting between the footage and Callen. "We'll get him, Callen." His gravelly voice brought Callen out of his own thoughts.

"Yes, we will. What's your plan?" He studied the Assistant Director closely. The years he'd been away hadn't changed him much, still the same man who didn't let many into his inner sanctum.

"I have organised a private jet for you and Sam, to take you to Jacksonville, where you're booked onto a Poseidon aircraft. It will take you as far as Spangdahlem, Germany. From there, you'll fly to Helsinki on these new aliases." Granger handed the men their new passports. "The CIA have a man there, a Mikko Kurtti, he will meet you at the airport. He'll have a boat ready in the marina, where he'll take you to St Petersburg. You'll be disguised as fishermen."

Callen and Sam took in the information. They looked at their new identities for this operation, one they knew that if they were found out, would be prisoned or killed. There was no doubt in their minds that their government would deny any acknowledgement of having agents on Russian soil. It was going to be a long trek into St Petersburg, but this way they went in under the radar. He hoped they found Arkady before it was too late.

Callen and Sam nodded to the older man. They headed out of Ops, down to the car park. Sam stopped by the bull pen and opened his desk draw. He left his id and weapons before heading out the door. They had just enough time to say goodbye to their families and head for the airport. Time was short. It always was in these situations.