Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS:LA or any of the related characters.
A/N: Just a little something that popped into my mind the other day, when I was actually trying to think of something fluffy to write (I'm not good at fluffy). I'm not totally sure about it, but please do let me know what you think. Crits are always welcomed, especially if they are constructive.
The moment he steps into the room he knows. He doesn't have to see the smears of red on the wall, or the ragdoll form sprawled on the floor. The feeling rises in his stomach long before that, the dread and the fear and the pain of loss are clutching at him before his other foot even makes it through the door. He has experienced these feelings before and he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his teammate, his friend, is no longer with them. He's lost enough people to be sure that this is the real thing.
It takes every atom in his body to keep himself from screaming out loud, every fibre of his being to stay calm enough to make the inevitable call. He stares at the walls as the phone rings. Blotches and smudges of blood spread over them, as though someone was trying out wall paints. He doesn't hear the woman's voice answer; he is too busy staring at the limp form on the floor and the little pool of blood around it. It's definitely her. He can barely see her face under the matted hair, the blood and the bruises, but he can see her eyes and that's enough. It's at that moment that the voice on the other line snaps him back into the land of the living. The words nearly break his heart,
"Did you find her, Mr Callen?"
"Yes," he murmurs softly, "I'm sorry, Hetty. I'm so sorry." He means those words. He's sorry because they couldn't get there in time, he's sorry because they let this happen and he's sorry because, as much as the team are going to be upset about this, it's going to affect Henrietta Lange the most.
Reviews are much appreciated.