AN: I've written NCIS fic for a couple of years, but this is the first time I've tried my hand at LA. The G/Nell ship has become my guilty pleasure the last couple of weeks, so I figured I'd start there.
Marching Forward
Nell was still working in the tech section on the main floor when Callen's photo beeped on her phone. A few seconds later, he called her and outlined what he'd found.
"I've seen this wrist tattoo before, a long time ago. It has to be important. Can you trace it?"
"I'm already searching." She hesitated, but before she could say anything else, he had disconnected. Nell weighed the trouble she was going to get in when Hetty caught her against the benefit of helping Callen when he'd actually asked, something he never did. She'd picked up on the tension between him and Sam that morning in ops, and it didn't take a genius — or an intelligence analyst — to see that Callen had major trust issues, ones that ran far deeper than anybody else's she'd met. She'd felt guilty earlier just hearing Hetty tell him she hoped he would learn to trust. So when he explained what he wanted, she had to agree. Or so she told herself. He was trusting her to help, and she would. She'd just have to hope Hetty understood.
She sifted through the search results and raised a single eyebrow at the information. Interesting. Nell started digging deeper, though she also kept a watchful eye for Hetty.
~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~
Hetty sipped her Formosan tea and kept a watchful eye upon all those in the OSP office. She could see Nell in the workshop corner on this level, and judging by her frequent glances around, Mr. Callen had shanghied the young analyst into his escapades when he had pulled her aside earlier. She sighed and took another sip. As much as she disliked the thought that Mr. Callen might stumble into the hornet's nest she'd been protecting him from for years, the sign that he was willing to trust somebody — especially somebody not named Sam Hanna — was a slight improvement.
Still, if Mr. Callen had enlisted Miss Jones' help, she must be even more alert. Miss Jones had the skills and the intelligence to dig far deeper than Mr. Callen had been able to on his own, and she could draw connections from the thinnest of threads. Even Hetty occasionally was surprised at how much the analyst could glean from just a few details.
She set down her tea cup and slipped out of her office. As she approached Nell's workstation from behind, she could hear the analyst whispering.
"Right, well, maybe I don't have to, but I would prefer to, if that's okay with you. Not that I don't respect your authority, Agent Callen. It's just, I think it would be in my best interest not to get on Hetty's bad side."
Hetty could see the image on Miss Jones' screen and knew she was far too close to making the connections that would endanger Mr. Callen's life beyond anybody's ability to protect him — even his own.
"Too late, dear." She stepped into the workspace where Nell sat, frozen in place. "Now, what have you discovered in your surreptitious snooping?"
As Nell outlined what she had found, Hetty was able to relax a fraction. Nell had not found the missing link, the connection to the Comescu family that would risk Callen's life far more than was appropriate.
"And you felt the need to hide this from me, Miss Jones?" Hetty betrayed not a bit of her internal debate in her face.
"Hetty, I know, but this is Callen. He doesn't ask for help." She hesitated. "I heard you talking to him this morning." She bit her lower lip, and a flush spread across her cheeks. "You want him to learn the art of trusting people. He's trusting me to help. I couldn't-"
Hetty waved a hand to cut her off. She did indeed see, perhaps far clearer than either Mr. Callen or Miss Jones. Mr. Callen, surely, was oblivious to any interest from Miss Jones. He was a lone wolf in all areas of his life, for more so than any of her other agents. Perhaps even more so than Hetty herself. She, at least, had had Cole for the past 20 years. Callen had nobody, and his couple of departures from that had been ill-fated from the start.
Miss Jones, however, seemed to recognize that her own motives were not wholly disinterested. Whether she could keep them from becoming problematic was a question Hetty preferred to reserve for a later moment.
"Miss Jones, I believe we need to join the others in the boatshed." Hetty pointed, and Nell headed for the exit. Hetty didn't bother informing Eric of their departure. He would know soon enough once they arrived at the boatshed. Mr. Callen's hunt was straying far outside OSP's purview, and Hetty did not want to place the team in a position where Director Vance would be forced to take action. Nor, she admitted to herself, did she want Callen to stumble too close to the secrets that could place his life in danger far greater than he could imagine.
~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~
Hetty was sipping a hibiscus tea when the agents returned from the shootout at the forum. Callen, Deeks and Kensi all left fairly quickly, but Sam did not. Hetty would have worried, except she could tell that Callen and Sam had managed to find a mutually agreeable position. Still, she would have to check with Eric where they were on tracking Abdul Habaza and locating Sadaat. That time and that place she had promised Sam could not come quickly enough.
She was still musing over that particular operation when Sam entered her office.
"Mr. Hanna." Hetty sipped her tea and waited to hear why Sam was there.
"G and I are good, Hetty." And yet something in Sam's shoulders betrayed a lingering tension to her skilled eye.
"Are you, Mr. Hanna?" She looked at him. "Sam?"
"We went along with him, Hetty. We trusted G." Sam frowned. "But he still wants to go it alone. Even after all these years."
~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~NCISLA~
Sam didn't know exactly what he wanted Hetty to say when he walked into her office. Yeah, he and G were good. Mostly. But after all these years, for G to go lone wolf at the first sign of trouble... He said as much to Hetty.
"Mr. Hanna, our Mr. Callen asked for help. Asked Miss Jones for help."
Moments like this were when Sam wished Hetty's poker face wasn't quite so good. "He asked Nell?" Not that Nell wasn't capable, but G hadn't known her half as long as any of the rest of the team.
"She helped him, though she somehow thought she could keep her assistance a secret from me."
Sam had to stifle a smile, even though nothing about this situation was funny. No wonder Nell had been so sheepish at the boathouse earlier. "She knows better now?"
"She does." Hetty paused. "Her rationale, as she explained it to me, made some sense, though she does not know I feel that way." Hetty paused. "You are the closest thing to family that Mr. Callen knows, and he relies upon that for more than he realizes. But we all need more than a single person in our lives. This week has been an example of why. We all have difficult moments, times when we need to lean on those around us for the strength we can't seem to find within ourselves. You and Mr. Callen found yourselves both in need of a friend at a time when each was dealing with significant issues in your personal lives."
Sam nodded. "I have my family. G just has me."
"Precisely, Mr. Hanna. That can strain even the most solid partnership." Hetty folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "Mr. Callen rarely reaches out to others. When he does, I believe encouraging that will help him realize what he only began to notice today — he has the entire team to lean on, if only he will let you all in."
Sam thought about the petite intelligence analyst. "Why Nell?"
Hetty shrugged. "I could offer some conjecture, but it would be just that." She smiled. "I believe Miss Jones is still in ops, though Mr. Beale departed several minutes ago."
Sam recognized an order when he heard one, but this directive was one he didn't disagree with. Time to see what Nell had been thinking earlier today. He knew what Hetty was hinting at, but he still didn't know how he felt about it.