Disclaimer: If I owned it, this would be canon.
Closing time
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end
-Semisonic
It was the perfect beach day. The weather was warm, but a gentle breeze wafted off the water, and the sun shone brightly.
G. Callen slipped off his shoes and socks, and the sand felt soft and warm to his bare feet. He stood facing the ocean, watching the waves roll lazily into the shore. The loud crashing sound they made as they hit the beach blended with the laughter of children and the squawking of various shore birds to create a hypnotic din in the agent's head.
After hesitating for a moment, he made his way onto the beach, oblivious to the groups of people surrounding him. He stopped short, suddenly becoming aware of his location. As he turned in a circle, observing, flashes of memories began their assault on his brain like features on a newsreel.
His mother, killed in front of him.
A strange man in a suit.
A child's toy.
37 different foster homes.
The Rostoffs.
Amy.
Alina.
Loneliness.
FBI.
CIA.
Tracy.
Betrayal.
DEA.
NCIS.
5 bullets.
Pain.
Sam's face, willing him to live.
Kensi.
Macy.
Dom.
Loss.
Nate.
Eric.
Hetty.
Family.
A home of his own.
Deeks.
Laughter.
Romania.
Fear.
Learning the truth.
Confusion.
Hunter.
Granger.
Anger.
Frustration.
Deeks' shooting.
Kensi off the grid.
Marcel Janvier.
Mission accomplished.
The final collapse of the Comescu family.
The end of the blood feud.
Relief.
Nell.
Nell. Happiness. Shelter. Home.
The tumultuous thoughts settled into a feeling of peace, of resignation. For the first time, he could think clearly. It was time.
The agent put his hands in his pockets and strode purposefully toward the tide. He felt the slightly cool water lap over his feet before he was aware he had waded in that far. He stood gazing over the horizon for a few minutes, then reached into his pocket. He examined the toy soldier on his palm briefly, then closed his eyes, and hurled the figurine into the Black Sea.
It didn't splash. If it did, the sound was consumed by the roar of the waves. In fact, there was no indication the toy had existed previously. It simply washed away, and along with the object, so did Callen's past.
He waited for a moment, then backed slowly away from the shore's edge, stopping to watch the tide roll in, roll out, feeling the warm breeze on his face.
He felt her presence behind him before he saw her.
"You didn't have to do this."
Nell snaked her arms around him. "Yeah, G., I did. You had to see this through, so I had to come. I wanted to come. I wanted to be here for you. I love you, G."
Callen turned and pulled her into his arms. "It's really over, Nell. I'm free."
And as he searched her hazel eyes, finding only love and compassion, the dam finally broke. Tears began to trickle down his face, and he dropped down on his knees in the sand. Nell sank down in front of him, still holding him tight. Together, they cried- tears of anguish for the little boy who lost everything on this Romanian beach, of sorrow for the subsequent losses he had suffered throughout his life, and finally, tears of relief and release at the lifting of the burden of his past and the promise of the future.
Callen's sobs gradually subsided. Nell touched his face gently, drying his tears. He looked up and smiled a shaky smile. "I love you, Nell." He kissed her tenderly, then he caressed her small baby bump, and kissed it, as well. "And I love you, little one."
Nell smiled at his gesture. Callen took a deep breath and stood, helping Nell up and brushing the sand gently off her clothes.
"Come on, Mrs. Callen, let's go home."
And they walked down the beach, hand in hand, as the sun began its final descent over the horizon.