It had already been a long day but the area was still buzzing with both military and civilians trying to finish their respective tasks so they could call it a night. Amongst the hustle and bustle, two men stood off to one side conversing in the deepening twilight.
"I'll look into it, but no guarantees," the dark-haired sergeant replied.
"Come on," the blond, scruffy male cajoled. "He's just a kid who got in with the wrong crowd. He helped us take this group down. We owe him. I owe him."
"Understood," acknowledged the NCO, "but it is not my call. I have to run it up the chain."
Callen nodded knowing it was the best he could hope for at the moment. Turning, he started to make his way back towards where Jay, the handcuffed prisoner, was seated. As he wearily moved across the forest floor, he unexpectedly lost his balance lurching sideways. His headache flared; the one that he'd been fighting since being hit by the rifle butt. It momentarily blinded him and caused his knees to buckle. A firm, strong hand reached out to steady him. Instinct took hold of Callen and though he was dazed, he immediately stiffened and went into defense mode.
"Whoa, G it's just me," a soothing voice called out. Callen relaxed upon hearing the melodic voice of his partner. Moving in front, Sam placed both hands on the shorter man's shoulders. Peering into his teammate's face as best as he could in the gathering darkness he noted, "You don't look so good."
"I'm fine," Callen automatically replied, though his slightly slurred speech contradicted his words.
Before Sam could get into it any further, Kensi approached them. "Can I cut in your dance boys?" the dark-haired woman quipped, mocking the position in which she found them.
Sam immediately dropped his hands from Callen's shoulders, who in turn stumbled again before regaining his equilibrium. For a second time, Sam reached out a hand to assist, but the 'back off' look in Callen's baby blues quickly made him drop his offer of aid.
"Here," Kensi said holding out two bottles of water and two protein bars. "Figured you guys haven't eaten since this morning." She tossed a protein bar and bottle of water at Sam who deftly caught them. However, after taking a second look at Callen she gently handed him his items. Gazing into his eyes, she came to the same conclusion as Sam. "You don't look so good Callen."
Breaking eye contact by ducking his head, Callen shoved the protein bar in the back pocket of his dirt-covered jeans before giving his full concentration to opening the water bottle. "I'm fine," he muttered struggling to open the vessel.
"Want help with that?" Kensi asked lightly.
"No," he snapped finally uncapping the recalcitrant bottle. "It's these new environmentally-proper, earth saving caps. They're small, hard to open," he clarified as he took a swig.
Sam did an eye roll accompanied by a 'yeah right' snort.
"Well ah right… Renko and I are done here. Unless you have something else for us, I think we'll head out," Kensi said.
Callen nodded in concurrence, which turned out to be a bad idea as the scenery around him started to tilt and twirl; the water he swallowed threatening to come back up. "Go," Callen, grunted thru clenched teeth.
Kensi glanced worriedly at Sam. "You headin out soon?"
"Yes." "No," came the simultaneous answers.
"No," Callen repeated giving Sam another glare. "I have to wait 'til I hear back on Jay."
"And," Sam added watching his partner struggling to pretend he was fine, "while we are waiting for that decision to be made, G and I are going to make a visit to that nice medical truck over there with the bored looking EMT."
"Oh no we're not," Callen belligerently retorted.
"Oh yes we are," Sam forcibly insisted reaching out and clamping a firm hand on Callen's bicep.
Kensi smirked at the interchange before turning serious. "Really Callen, let them check you out. You took a nasty hit to the head."
"Yeah, even though there isn't much in there to get damaged," Sam quipped. "Do you want to make a run for it; that was a really dumb idea G," Sam said referring to an earlier not so brilliant suggestion from his partner.
"Hey," Callen said defending himself. "It was no stupider then you driving that truck in when I had a hostage and a gun!"
"And I'm so out of here," Kensi said walking away.
The two men glared at each other for a few seconds. "Come on," Sam said breaking the contest and giving Callen a little shove; that was just enough to start the carousel up again. "Uh oh," Callen groaned.
"Come on. We ARE going. End of story. Don't make me have to carry your sorry little white ass over there," Sam said giving Callen another nudge towards the EMT truck.
"Don't …do…. that!" Callen grimaced
"Callen, you have to …"
"Stop pushing me before I…" Callen finished his sentence by vomiting.
"Yuck," Sam said taking a side step away. Callen rested with his hands on his thighs gathering strength before slowly straightening up. He opened the water bottle and used some of it to swish out his mouth.
"You done?" Sam asked drily.
"I dunno. Maybe," Callen replied contemplating the horizon and trying to stop it from gyrating.
"You capable of walking over to the EMT. Or shall I carry you?"
Callen snorted. "I'll walk. But thanks for the offer."
The two men slowly headed across the landscape to the medical truck.
"This is a waste of time you know," Callen complained. "What will he tell me I don't know? I have a minor concussion with the usual headache, nausea and vomiting. Isn't my first; betting it won't be my last."
Sam continued shepherding his partner towards the truck. "You have a major concussion and you're giving me a headache."
"Minor and you aren't doing great things for my head or stomach with all your yakking and shoving."
Upon reaching the medic, Sam spoke first to ensure accuracy because he knew Callen would not provide the truth. "My partner took a serious blow to the top of his head from a rifle butt. There is a laceration and it was bleeding heavily. He was unconscious for fifteen minutes."
"What?" Callen said annoyed as he turned to face his partner "Fifteen minutes? " You told me I was out for two, three minutes at the most."
"I lied. I didn't want you to worry while we were trying to escape. I needed you focused. Fifteen minutes Doc," Sam continued. "And he has a headache, dizziness, and nausea."
"Fifteen minutes," Callen echoed not letting it go. "Wow. Fifteen minutes. No wonder I feel like crap. I'll bet you spent the entire time kicking me."
"Not the whole time," Sam relied offhandedly. "Some of the time I only poked you in the ribs with my boot cause my leg got tired."
"Anything else you would like to confess my dear partner who watches out for my back."
"He also might have a temperature," Sam added re-addressing the medic.
"A temperature! Why do you think I have a temperature? Have I said I'm hot? Do I look hot?"
"Headed, yes" Sam snorted.
Frustrated and annoyed with the whole situation, Callen folded his arms across his chest looking away.
"Gentlemen," interrupted the EMT. "If I may get a word in edge-wise, perhaps do my job?"
"You got a thermometer Doc? Preferably one that you stick up the…"
If looks could kill, Callen would have scored a direct hit on Sam.
The medic had enough and finally took control of the situation. "You," he said in his best authoritative voice, "Sit there," gesturing to the wide ledge on the medical truck. "And you," he commanded pointing at Sam, "Stand over there." The EMT's tone startled them both into compliance.
"Better." He maneuvered the light so he could look at Callen's scalp. "OK. How long ago did you receive the blow to the head?" the medic asked as he examined the wound.
"About 8 hours ago," Sam answered.
The medic glanced over at Sam. "Would you mind letting him answer a few questions? I need to assess his mental state."
"This oughta be good," Sam, said crossing his arms over his chest. Callen glared at everyone. It was clear he wanted to leave but he had not figured out an exit strategy yet.
"Have you had any headaches, dizziness or vomiting since receiving the blow on the head?" the EMT addressed Callen.
Callen glanced towards Sam waiting for him to reply. Sam pointedly looked away.
"Maybe," Callen replied noncommittally.
"These are yes or no questions if you please. Now again. Headaches, dizziness, vomiting."
"Yes. Yes. Yes," Callen answered sullenly.
"I see. What is today's date?"
"October 12, 2010."
"Who is the President of the United States?"
"Obama"
"And what state are we in?"
"A mess."
"No jokes please. Your name is?"
"If I told you I'd have to kill you."
The EMT sighed. "Let's try that again. Do you know your name?"
"No"
Sam piped up before the EMT decided to strangle his partner. "He actually doesn't know his name. Long story." Callen gave the EMT a look of concurrence.
"OK. Let's skip that one," the medic said clearing his throat. "On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst, rate the severity of your headache."
"Two," Callen quickly replied.
Sam cleared his throat.
"Well maybe four."
Sam coughed.
Callen glared but upped his answer. "Six. But that is as high as I go."
Sam umphed, once more, loudly.
"Ok, it is an eight and climbing. You happy over there?" Callen grouched at Sam.
"Hey, I didn't say a thing," Sam replied.
The medic whipped out a pen flashlight and examined Callen's eyes. Callen flinched away from the beam of light and the EMT gave a slight negative shake of his head.
The medic turned to Sam. "And would you like to rate the dizziness and vomiting?"
Sam glanced over at Callen who was looking rather green around the gills since having the bright light shone in his eyes. "Dizziness. Comes and goes," Sam said, watching his partner. "Maybe a five with peaks to seven. And the vomiting…"
Suddenly Callen bent over and dry-heaved.
"Is increasing," Sam finished. "What is that, two times?"
Callen held three fingers in the air, still hunched over.
"Three," Sam translated.
"I see," he said turning back to his patient. "I suppose if I told you to go immediately to the hospital and submit yourself for scans you would ignore me," the EMT stated matter-of-factually.
"Pretty much," Callen replied.
The medic looked over at Sam and said, "And I don't suppose you can make him go?"
"What do I look like his mother?" Sam snorted.
"Right," the medic said. "Ok. Mr.…" he paused awkwardly before continuing. "It is my medical opinion you have a severe concussion and you should go to a facility with better equipment and be evaluated. However, since it seems that is not going to happen, I highly recommend," he turned to directly address Sam "that someone keep a close watch on you for the next twenty-four hours. If any of the symptoms get worse, or new ones appear, you should immediately seek medical assistance." The medic turned back to his truck and started rummaging through a drawer. "Do you have any allergies?"
Callen narrowed his eyes. "Allergies?"
"I would like to clean out that wound before releasing you," he replied as he laid supplies out on a tray. "Please sit here," he indicated to a seat in the truck.
As Callen moved to the indicated area, Sam moved closer for support because Callen hated to be treated by Doctors. The EMT continued to place items on the tray, the last being a small bottle and a syringe. When Callen spotted the needle, he immediately started to slide off the seat in an escape attempt. Sam, however, clamped a hand on his shoulder, pinning him in place. The medic turned around, "Is there a problem?"
"I don't do needles," Callen said with a twinge of trepidation in his voice.
"And I don't want to lose my license. That is a nasty cut and I would like to administer an antibiotic to help ward off infection. Standard protocol."
"Gee Doc, Don't you have a bigger needle. One that could be administrated in another region a bit further south?" Sam said, unable to resist tormenting his partner.
"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you," Callen retorted momentarily turning his attention away from the needle.
"For all the times I have had to save your skinny white butt, you bet."
"Are you two married?" the EMT joked stopping both men dead in their verbal tracks. Callen and Sam were used to being accused of that by their teammates but never by an outsider. In the moment of confusion and silence, the EMT reached out, swabbed Callen's upper arm and quickly administered the shoot.
"Ouch, that hurt" Callen whined, pulling his arm away and rubbing the injection site.
"Baby," Sam accused.
"Don't rub it" the EMT instructed Callen who reluctantly stopped.
After the shot, Callen sulked, Sam grinned, and the medic cleaned the wound.
"Close monitoring, next 24 hours. If the symptoms get worse, you must seek immediate medical care. If he wants to sleep, you must wake him every 15 minutes for the first 2 hours, then every half hour for the next 2 hours. After that, hourly waking will suffice."
"You have to be joking Doc! Do you know what it is like to wake him?"
Sam glared at Callen. Callen glared at Sam. The medic shook his head and went on. "And, every time you wake him you have to test him."
"Test? There is a test? I'm not taking any test," Callen stated flatly.
"Yeah Doc. Do I look like a school teacher to you?" Sam queried.
Ignoring them, he went on. "The acronym to help you remember the steps is AVPU. First, is the patient alert? Second, does the patient respond to voice? Third, does he respond to pain or touch? And last is he unresponsive in any way."
Sam perked up a bit. "So let me see if I have this straight. I have to wake my partner, ask him a question, and then punch him to make sure he is responsive."
"That's not quite what I said…" the EMT started.
Sam turned his 1000-watt smile on Callen. "I was wrong; this is going to be fun."
Callen slid off the ledge and started to walk away.
"Thanks Doc," Sam said reaching out to shake the medic's hand.
The EMT tried one more time. "He really should go to the hospital."
"He won't Doc. I'll take good care of him," Sam replied seriously, as he watched Callen walk off. "He is my partner and I'll protect him, even from himself."