Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: LA or any of its characters.

A/N: I started this a couple weeks ago as a short story, but seeing as I like to write stories with incomplete endings, I decided to expand this. I'm already on the second part; have the third and fourth part detailed and ready to go. This is sort of a love story in eight parts. For those who don't ship Nallen, and decided to try it out, whether by accidentally clicking or not, I would be very grateful if you can be considerate of my choice. Takes place before "Kill House" and starts off in a different universe. This is my first time writing for NCIS: LA, and I don't know if I delve into Nell's and Callen's characters as well as I hope. The posting of this will go as follows: once I have two to three parts finished, I'll post; most likely every two weeks.

PART I

"We are our stars, and we deserve to twinkle." — Marilyn Monroe.

Nell's in too deep.

Literally in deep shit — this undercover mission isn't working for her — she feels like she's giving out too much information. Agents are trained to shield their emotions well, to perfect the blank expression, to master deception. Somehow, she is unconvinced in her abilities to execute those very skills.

She isn't used to being the 'bait' nor is she used to being a field agent. First and foremost, she's an intelligence analyst, a pretty darn good one too, if not the best. Unraveling deceptive information is what's she is good at, but going out on the field, that's another story. It's not like she isn't good with a gun; she takes pride in her accurate shooting range.

Whenever a gun is placed in her hand, she becomes enthralled by it: how easily it fits in her hand. It feels almost invigorating, and it terrifies her how this object is the destruction of so many. Appalls her really. To think, she has access to a gun, and what if its power corrupts her. She wouldn't let it.

Plus, compared to the rapturous thrill she gets when it involves decrypting information, there's nothing better than that; a gun can never replace that.

That is all it takes for her to feel exuberant again. The irresistible yet shady young gentleman next to her gives her a smile that seems real, but the way his hazel eyes turn darker tell her otherwise. The bilious look that is written deep into his expression informs her that he's up to no good. The way he crossed his feet, willfully pointing his toe toward her, reminds her that this man is not to trusted.

This unsub, if he is the one, has a thing for cute females that are decent enough to not flash any cleavage, and cover themselves up appropriately: no tight dresses that expose one's curves, no dresses below the knees, or no 'V' shaped neckline. Traditional women. She fits in his category: short, cute, and young. Precisely, why she is chosen for this mission.

She has been studying his expression ever since she arrives, but he remains inscrutable, until she delves into his character, long and hard. Gradually, he begins to reveal his true motion: to see if Nell would invite him back to her place. He wants, no, needs, to test her character, to figure out if she is worthy of his trust. So far, she passes with flying colors.

"Nell," she hears Callen in her earpiece, "Check if he has a scar down his neck. Another thing, check for his tat. If he's our guy, he should have a sword tat on his hand. I remember it when I ribbed his sleeve off. Be safe, Nell, he's dangerous."

Nell rolls her eyes, intended for Callen, who is right across the room. She might look small and fragile; be known as the tech girl, but she can sure as hell take care of herself (even if she isn't the most skillful fighter in the group). More than capable, actually. She can handle a gun. Those strong legs of her can most likely escape if that's her last option, thanks to hiking. I can do it, trust me, she wants to yell.

Then again, it's nice knowing that your team is on the lookout for you.

"Lean in closer. See if he's our guy," Callen speaks into the headset, loud enough for Nell to understand him, and quiet enough so that no one suspects a thing.

Flashing him a 'I know what I'm doing' look, she picks up her teacup, her fingers circle around the rim of the cup. Taking small sips, she smiles at the young man across her, and resist a sigh as the warm liquid makes it down her, immediately sending a relax signal to her brain. She eyes the delicious lemon cakes with an irresistible desire. She doesn't know what came over her, but all she wants, is to devour those lemon cakes.

It takes all of the strength she has to resist sinking her teeth in one of the cakes. She needs to focus her attention on the case, and as Callen puts it, she is wasting time. But with a guy like the unsub, she finds that taking long and deliberate steps are necessary. He has this shield over himself, and one bad move, mission over. To capture him, one must understand his moves, to really catch him.

"Clarissa, you want those lemon cakes? Just have one, I don't mind," he says, as if informing her that she needs his permission. His voice, soft and pleasant, sends shivers down her spine, as she remembers how he seduces his victims. Charming as he is, women should be wary of a man who permits how you dress and what you eat. A man who wants to control you. Yet, there's something dark and sexy, that draws some women to men like him.

The entire evening, Stephen, the young man, harasses her or Clarissa Stevens, her cover, telling her how to act, how to sit, how to eat, and how to be ladylike. It really irks her. She really do want to cuff the bastard if Callen permits it. Then she remembers that if he isn't the guy, then… she wouldn't mind ruining that suave suit of his.

"I don't really want them now. Sort of lost the taste for lemon cakes."

Stephen reaches for a lemon cake, and hands it to her. He looks her down with furrowed eyebrows, and a clenched jaw. Words didn't need to be spoken to understand what he's implying.

Keeping her cover intact, Nell takes the lemon cake from him, and takes a bite. This guy is really exasperating her. His nonverbal threats are just pathetic. If she could be herself, god knows what she would have done with him, probably empty the pot of hot steaming tea on his face. Shooting would be just too damn easy. He has to suffer for her mistreatment tonight.

Fuck, why was she having juvenile thoughts, this wasn't like her. She is used to crazy men and women in her line of work. Of course, she's usually behind the computer along with Eric. Eric's such a sweet and very agreeable guy. They share a lot of traits: intelligence, understanding of analyzing cryptic information, and decoding it, the same quirkiness. His crush on her isn't oblivious, and once, his feelings of her were requited. Now, she just has a deep admiration for him. She wants a man, tough and gentle. Strong and mysterious. Eric doesn't possess all of those traits.

Stealing a glance across the room without Stephen noticing, someone like Callen, she decides. Those strong arms of him wrapped around her, the feel of her body pressed against him, those sexy lips of his nibbling at her own, the feel of his subtle beard across her skin, and those fingers of his gently smoothing her hair. What the heck is she thinking about? She has developed a crush on him for a long time. There is an air of mystery around him, and the experience he has in the job and in life, leaves her wanting more. She was completing loosing it. She just hope he didn't read into it. Or god forbids, Stephen.

"Clarissa!" She is snapped out of her absurd thoughts by the roughness in Stephen's voice. "We should get going now. I'll drop you home. I don't like that you came here by yourself, especially with creeps hanging around. Lord knows, what they will do to a pretty girl like you. I worry for you."

Even though, Stephen is an attractive man, his attitude is not very appealing. She places her hand in the crook of his elbow as they leave the cafe. She tugs at the sleeves of the flattering well-fitted blue dress, smooths the creases on the clinged-in-waist, and rubs her green flats in an unfashionable desire across the floor.

Callen follows her, she thinks; she barely makes out his shadow.

It is time to finish this off. She reaches in for a chaste kiss, and checks his neck for the scar. Running her hand down it, just to check if it's really there, Stephen growls and roughly pull her hand away. She makes a lame attempt at apologizing. Once more, she leans in, and this time, she kisses him as hard she can manage, moving her hand across his chest, then to his arm. Carefully, she rolls his sleeves up, but finds no tattoo. Stephen is about to break the kiss, but she kisses him again, this time, as roughly as she can possibly manage. Rolling his other sleeves up, to maintain her cover, she moves her fingers in a seductive way across his skin. There it is.

She breaks free of the kiss. The amazing light from this desolate neighborhood allows Nell to see the scar and the sword tattoo. It's the guy, all right.

"Icing to the cake," she mutters softly into her watch. The codeword for it's him.

"What was that?" Stephen presses his lips into a tight grin.

"Ice. It's frigid out here like ice." She fakes a shivering.

"Nell, stay put. We're coming in."

It is at that moment that Nell hates that she is so close to him.

"You were spying on me?" His eyes glow with what she only can describe as an undeniable flame of deep hatred.

"No, I wasn't. You see… I have an over-protective older brother. He checked in on me, every now and then."

"I thought you were different from the rest. How wrong was I?" He laughs, a choleric laugh. "You're just like them. Whores who can't remain faithful. Like my mother."

"I can assure you I'm not like the rest of them, whoever they may be."

Stephen raises a hand and strikes her across the cheek. Hard. Nell almost stumbles due to the impact of the blow.

"I'll show you how a lady should be like." He pulls out a dagger from his pocket, and slides it across her skin. "Don't worry, you'll be happier. I've to just remove that pretty mouth of yours." The knife continues to glide across her cheeks, leaving a few cuts in the process.

Pressing the knife deeper into her skin, Nell searches for a distraction, any. Using her free hand, she swipes a blow to his face. That surprises him long enough for Nell to pull out her gun. God, he shows sighs of vacuousness by leaving every one of her limbs free.

"You won't pull that trigger, Clarissa. You aren't strong enough."

He really underestimates her. One, two, three, she pulls the trigger. It hits him in the arm. Her vision must have crappy; it only explained her off- shoot.

"Oh, you bitch," he screams, wringing his hand in pain as he tears a piece of cloth from his shirt and wraps it around the bullet wound. The bullet just graze his hand."You're gonna be sorry for doing that."

She whispers in her headset, "I think I got him. He needs an ambulance."

Letting a hist out, Stephen says, "They all thought just because I didn't tie them up, they could get away. Oh, you should have heard their screams. That pitiable sound." Those hazel irises of his reflect vile memories, that even Nell didn't want to understand. "The whores figured out that the damages were irreversible when I was done with them. It was a pity; they were pretty, but that tongue of theirs just had to go."

He continues, "Elise, the marine, now she was special. Never heard a women screamed that much. So very much like my mother. I craved very lovely details on her just like dad did to my whore of a mother. Both of them committed adultery." Stephen spits on the ground.

"What shall I do with you, Clarissa? You are different from the rest of them, but shooting me was a bad choice on your part."

Before she has time to process it all, Stephen moves behind her, and shoves her roughly on the graffiti covered wall. He squeezes her mouth open, carefully looking inside of it. Murmuring, he snakes his tongue down her throat for a few brief seconds, and releases her in a disgusted fashion. Nell resists a gag relax when his mouth came into contact with hers.

"You're not like the rest of them." He holds his head in his hands. "You… you're… just… nothing like them."

Nell hints the confused theme in his voice, and takes that as her cue. She raises her leg up, and kicks him in the stomach, sending him tumbling down. "You got that right. Why did you do it? Because your mother was unfaithful?" She shakes her head; he destroys his and those women's life just because of an unfaithful mother. That's just plain stupid.

Callen arrives behind her. "Nice. I never undermined your abilities, I want you to know that."

"G is right." Sam nods.

"We could always use someone like you in the field."

Her lips curve upwards. "Thanks guys, but I belong with the computers."

A/N: What do you think? For me, this could be a short story with just Nell. Yes, I know the lack of interaction between Callen and Nell in this one is limited. The other part will focus on Callen entirely, and it will go back and forth.