A/N. Spoilers for Episode 100. Season 5.

Every step you take.

Callen woke late that day, he'd been up the night before watching and re-watching the 8mm cine film of his sister, his father and himself as a baby, wishing there was sound so he could have heard his mother's laughter that he was sure was behind the camera and the voice of his father, gathering every clue he could as to his family.

He'd called Hetty and asked for the day off. She had been worried that he was breaking, but after a long chat he had convinced her he was fine but there was something he needed to do.

He walked up to the house and removed the police tape.

Closing the door he looked around, the bloodstained message still on the wall. The finger, thank God, long since removed.

He needed to make sure there were no other pictures of him here; Nothing that would burn him.

He had already checked the bedroom, but he walked down the hall and found a small study. Photos of Michael Reinhardt were everywhere, there were a few of him in a frame in the study, one of him in a scruffy, second-hand, school uniform and one of him as a teen in a graduation cap and gown. He was smiling in neither, as both had been taken for school record purposes only and he knew it, there were no smiles in his photos for loved ones. He had none.

He rifled through the drawers wondering if somewhere in this house was a clue to where his father really was.

He sat at the desk and went through the drawers one by one, receipts, airline tickets…no clues there… he went to shut the drawer. But it caught on something and wouldn't shut; he reached his hand back and pulled out a stack of brown leather books, four of them.

He took them in the living room, but took another look at the wall, he couldn't stay there, so he went back into Reinhardt's bedroom remembering the armchair in the corner of the room, he switched on a lamp and opened the book.

1975

France.

I'm not sure how often I will write this, whether I will be giving this to you, Nikita. I wish I had been told your son's name; your son and daughter are huddled in the corner of my motel room. They have been crying non-stop for three days. It took us three days on a train to travel from Romania to France. We are awaiting a ferry to England; from there we will be catching a plane back to my home in America. I am and will always keep my promise to you to watch over them both and keep them safe until God-willing you may all be reunited.

My heart breaks for G and Amy. Amy more, she will remember her mother and father and know what she has missed, as for your son, G…I wish you had told me your son's name, G was the name Amy called him. I didn't get to their mother in time after the frantic call I had from you Nikita, the KGB were coming for you, you couldn't leave as you were being watched and you begged me to save your family.

After you had saved mine, how could I refuse?

My heart stopped that day on the beach as I watched your beautiful wife get gunned down. Your son stood on that beach and screamed, a more heart wrenching sound I had never before heard and never wanted to hear again. I hope I never will.

I grabbed your children and pushed them screaming into my car, I felt awful leaving your wife there, but I had to save your children I owed you that much, I promise you I will protect them with my life if necessary.

Callen paused and wiped a tear from his face at reading of his mother's death and he and his sisters flight from Romania. He looked for more books, finding a box full he put them all together and taking them with him left the house.

He didn't want to go home with them, and he couldn't go to ops… he needed somewhere where he felt safe to read them, so he picked up his phone.

"It's me…I found something, I need to deal with it…Can I go to your house, I need…" he found he couldn't say what he needed but somehow, as always, she knew what he needed.

"Go home Mr. Callen. I will be there later tonight, we will eat and if you wish, we will talk."

Callen sighed and smiled, although she couldn't see it. "Thank you." He turned his car in the direction of Hetty's house and headed there.

Taking the key off his key ring he let himself into the large house he had, while recuperating from his gunshot wounds, called home.

He went to the room Hetty had set apart for him, climbed onto the big comfy bed piling all the books around him in year order, five years to a book. The book he had originally started just said 1975 – 80 on the spine.

He found where he had left off, went out of the room again, grabbed a bottle of water and a sandwich from Hetty's kitchen and went back into his room and locked the door.

He switched his phone off and settled back to read.

We have arrived in America.

Amy loved the plane ride over, she asked questions and the air hostess allowed her to go up and see the pilots. She brought back a small airplane which she gave to her baby brother; he spent the rest of flight making the plane fly.

I am worried about him Nikita, your daughter speaks English, albeit with an accent, but your son hasn't said a word since we left. He still cries, I have heard him; however he does not cry or show emotion in front of me.

We travelled to a small house owned by a friend of mine; you may remember him, Arkady Kolcheck. He has agreed to help me hide the children so they will be safe.

Amy fell asleep as soon as we got in the car for the ride to Arkady's home, G stared out of the window the whole way, and I do not think he has slept since we got on the plane. He reminds me so much of you Nikita, he seems to be memorizing his way home although he still is not talking. He seems to understand Arkady and climbed on his lap as he was talking in Russian, he trusts him although I think instinctively it was you he was seeking.

Finally after listening to Arkady talk to someone on the phone he finally allowed himself to fall asleep, Arkady seemed to take to the boy and I know he would have taken him in if it wasn't for his more questionable associates I would have allowed your son to stay with him.

We have an appointment with a friend of Arkady's who works in Child welfare; we will be able to place the children in the welfare system. They cannot be adopted as we have not had their birth certificates and they should always be available for when you can make it to America to find them. Arkady will be having American certificates made up for them.

We will give them their mother's surname so it is easy for you to find them, Reznikov is too Russian and it will stand out, Callen, Clara's maiden name is more American and they should be able to assimilate.

I will be putting them in a group home, I will keep them together as much as possible. I hope they will have a healthy and settled life until your problems and Clara's family feud are ended and you can be reunited with your family once again.

Callen sat back and took a sip of his water.

His heart hurt at the fact that they would never again be reunited as a family. But he was also shocked at the closeness he had apparently felt as a child with his old friend Arkady. He had thought they had first met on that operation in Serbia, but now he knew that was wrong. He knew he had known Reinhardt, but he had no idea that Arkady had met himself as a child. Although it did explain why he had instantly trusted the man when he had met him, in spite of the fact that he was a Russian mobster.

He turned the page.

1978

She's dead…Nikita, my friend I am so sorry.

(There were dried tear stains on the page.)

I was again too late and I failed you.

Amy was in a group home, and she had made a friend as was getting along so well. Amy and Hannah were the best of friends. I would visit from afar and watch them play together. They snuck out at night I saw her once, she would go to the river and tell Hannah about her baby brother. They would look at the stars and sneak back in.

There was a vicious rain storm 2 nights ago, I knew that Amy would plan on sneaking out, but I got delayed in traffic, by the time I arrived there Hannah, her friend was screaming on the bank of the river. I looked, God how I looked I ran down stream and searched for days.

Hannah had her own demons to hide from; I wrapped her in Amy's old jacket and took her back to the orphanage. I found out that she was mistaken for Amy. She climbed into Amy's bed and became her. I have no wish to out the poor child who has been through so much, so I have buried your Amy under her name Hannah Lawson.

This also means that in death the child will be kept safe from your enemies.

The post mortem said that she was hit on the head by a log or a branch and drowned. It was an accident, but I will be keeping an eye on her final resting place, she will rest in peace and I pray she has been reunited with Clara and they have found peace.

Your son I am watching, he has been moved many times, some not so successful, I am watching out for him where possible. A few times he has been placed with families that have not been suitable, I have when I can reported these families and had G moved as soon as possible. I do hope that he will find a family with which to settle down.

I am as always keeping a note of each and every address, so when you need to find your son, I will know where he is.

Callen sighed as he read about his sister's death. It was sad for him to realize that his sister had died alone, thrashing about for air in a river.

He stopped as a wave of grief for the sister he couldn't remember washed over him.

He closed the book and took a drink and a few bites of his sandwich. He really didn't feel like eating, but he knew that Hetty would notice if he hadn't eaten and then she would worry.

He opened the book again and turned to a new page and his appetite fled.

1980.

G is in Bakersfield. I checked the woman out, she is a nice lady. However I was not given any information about her husband.

I have been calling child welfare for a week; his social worker is away right now. I am so worried about him. She is feeding him, but she works nights at a local diner. A few times I have seen G run from the house and cower as he is beaten at the man's hands. It is so hard. I am so close and want to help especially when I hear him cry and see the bruises later.

This is the first house where he has been physically beaten. He is a very withdrawn child, he doesn't talk much. But his eyes…Nikita those eyes look like they have the weight of the world in them. His eyes are so like yours, deep blue, but he has Clara's heart. He will defend children younger than himself. He's a fighter Nikita you would be proud of him. I am hopeful he will be moved as soon as possible.

He refuses to fit in, I think deep down he is missing you both but I am concerned, I had hoped that he would remember his name, he has seen various psychologists and so far he hasn't been able to remember and they cannot break through the wall that is around his memories. Amy is not here for me to ask. I wish you would get in contact with me Nikita; your boy needs you so much.

He has finally been moved.

He attacked his foster father last night, I had called the police, and G ran into the yard as his foster father beat him again with the broom. Finally he snapped. Unfortunately the police arrived as your ten-year-old son had taken the broom handle and was beating his foster father with it. I sent a note to the police station to say that an anonymous passerby saw what happened, the charges against G were dropped. I am hoping that he will settle in the next home he is sent to.

Callen lay back and closed his eyes as the memory washed over him for the second time in two days. The first time had been when Deeks had shown him the picture of his ten-year-old self.

He realized that he had read the whole book. He wanted to walk away now…if Reinhardt had been watching him all these years the next two books would not be fun reading, however these were in effect evidence, if he read them and gave an edited report to Hetty maybe no one else would have to.

He stood up and walked around the bed getting a breather he really needed. He looked at his phone, 3 missed calls from Sam, 2 from Deeks and by extension Kensi, 4 from Nell and 4 from Eric. He smiled at how much he knew they cared. He knew if it was urgent Hetty would call him on the house phone by the bed. So he decided that calling them back could wait.

Looking out of the window at the spacious gardens beneath he wondered again, if his father would ever read these, or if after reading them himself Callen would just hide them, like he was wont to do with the most important things in his life. His mother's picture, his high school diploma, (for him a reminder that he had made it out of the system alive), a picture of him and Alaina, his first birthday card, his heart. All but the last item was in a box. Not the box on the mantel piece as his teammates thought, all the items in there were reproductions. But a box under the floorboard in the corner of the room he had occupied as a child.

He grabbed the book and moved to a large wing backed chair in the corner. Taking a drink he picked up the next book.

1980 – 85.

1982.

Callen, as he is now called by his foster carers and social workers, is turning out to be a handful of a teenager; and a bit of a heartbreaker.

He's taken up football; he's a fast runner and has a following amongst the girls in school. He doesn't mix with them though.

He has nice foster parents; a young couple who are committed in helping him succeed.

I am not sure about his social worker, he is an older man who seems to be focused on targets rather than the children in his charge…I am having Arkady look into him. In the two years since the incident in Bakersfield, Callen has grown into his own.

You would be so proud of the young man he has become. He has on a few occasions broken up school fights saving younger children from bullies. He is still a loner, he does not mix with the other children yet if they are in trouble most seem to know that Callen is the boy to go to, much like you were Nikita, your son is going to be the sort of man to help others, I can see this in his demeanor.

He has been moved again, I tried with all my resources to get it stopped; this has not been a good move for him.

The new family is not good Nikita, my heart breaks when I see him, he is with a family where the mother is out all day, she works as a cleaner in a warehouse, she drinks at night as does the father who is out of the army with a mental disorder, they did not disclose this on the paperwork…even now I am fighting for an investigation, but without revealing who I am, I am having trouble getting them to listen to me.

There is an older boy, Jason I believe his name is, he is trying to protect the younger ones. Callen is regularly kept home from school….My God Nikita…you should hear him scream…I have not heard sounds like that since…since Clara died.

I have called his social worker, who is constantly unavailable. I have called the police; they come to the house and leave. I have seen him once since he was allocated to that house. He slipped outside at two o'clock in the morning. To Smoke….he is thirteen and he is smoking. I hope this doesn't continue, but he looked so thin, he was bruised and when the older boy Jason snuck out and touched him…Oh Nikita…he jumped and scrambled away, I need to get him moved, I am going to have Arkady help, we cannot as you know for the boy's sake reveal ourselves but if that man just disappeared…maybe they will get your son the help he needs.

We did not get there on time, Callen is safe, he is in the local hospital being treated for trauma, but he is alive, his friend Jason however is not. I was told a gunshot was heard at the house, that…man…he was…hurting our boy…I….I cannot write here what he was doing, but Nikita I know this is not what you hoped for when you asked me to watch over your children. But his friend Jason tried to stop the foster father, the mother was screaming and hitting Callen while the man, he shot at him. According to the reports Jason stood in the way and took the bullet. Both adults have been arrested, Arkady is working on getting them out so a more…permanent…solution is found for them, the social worker has been fired. Arkady will not be dealing with him as directly, however in the space of one day the man lost his home, his family and his job and as of last night was sleeping under a bridge. I will make sure he never goes within a hundred feet of Callen ever again.

I have just returned from visiting Callen, I was dressed as a janitor. He is not talking again, and eyes are distrustful. He would not look at me as I walked in but he focused on my feet, whenever I stepped near he moved back. I tried talking to him. Nothing. I fear all the good work that was done to help him has been undone by this man. He has multiple fractures to his body, he whimpered when he tried to move whilst still keeping quiet. I left the room and I cried Nikita…I fear now for the sanity of your boy

Callen threw the book on the bed, this was not a time he wanted to remember so he walked over to the dresser in the corner, changed into a set of sweats he knew he had left in there.

Grabbing his old sneakers from the bottom of the wardrobe he unhooked the key for the house and went for a run, hoping that by the time he got back he would be in a better frame of mind to continue.