Illusionist

Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine.

Chapter 1

Los Angeles

He had corrected his partner many times over his alias at being an illusionist, but still Sam had referred to him being a magician. He had tried to drop hints that this was who he really was to the man who had become his brother. But after seven years of being partners, the former Navy SEAL still hadn't worked it out. G Callen had practised this alias since he was little; before he was found on the beach in Romania, after the Comescus had assassinated his mother in front of him. He had learnt from the early age the need to be someone else. He had learned from the best, his parents. He was a good observer, blending into the background, quietly taking notes into his young mind on becoming another person.

It was 1975, summer had arrived in the Romanian seaside city of Constanta, and young Garriden Roman was being pushed down the slope in a red cart at a local park by his sister Amalia. "Faster! Faster!" He laughed as the wind blew through his hair. His sister ran behind sending him faster down the slope. But the cart tilted to the side, sending Garriden out of the cart and onto the lush green grass.

"G are you okay?" Amalia worried over her baby brother, as he was always pushing himself that bit too far and getting hurt.

He laughed to show her that he was fine, but the truth was the pain in his wrist throbbed, making his laugh disappear and he rolled on the grass hoping to hide his pained expression from his sister.

"You are not fine, G. Look at your wrist. It's bleeding. Quickly, we must go back home to get you fixed up before Mama and Tatā came home. Mama is going to kill me if she finds you hurt again." She gently urged him off the grass and pulled the cart behind her as they ran up the road to home. Through the back door the Romani children entered the kitchen. Garriden sat down while his sister pulled the first aid kit from off the top shelf and opened the lid. "This is going to sting a bit, baby brother," she whispered to him. Her voice soothed him as he tried to remain strong for her. Amalia was four years older and Garriden was always trying to prove to her that he could handle everything that she could do. "Always the dare devil aren't you, G. What am I going to do with you? Tatā will not be happy if you break a bone, you know. At any minute's notice we might have to run and hide and change our names again. Having to explain who you really are is not going to help us in hiding here, if we have to take you to a hospital," Amalia explained.

"But why do we have to keep running away and hiding? I like it here. I feel safe. A nice man with a wheel tattoo keeps giving us ice-creams when we're on the beach." Garriden furrowed his brow as Amalia continued attending to the cuts on his wrist.

"I know, baby brother. The people are very nice here. We know the language and we fit in well. Unlike the last place. It was cold all year round in Norway, and I struggled to understand the people." She dressed the cuts with some plasters before closing the first aid kit and putting it back on the shelf. She turned and sighed. "But you, G. You pick up every language we come across. Russian, Romani, Norwegian, German, French, Chez, Italian, even Turkish. Mama is very proud of you. You are so much like her in that way, but a spitting image of her Tatā. So Mama tells me."

G Callen smiled at the fond memory that he kept locked tight in his mind, while he rubbed his wrist. It had hurt, but he was glad he had the scar to remind him of that day. The last day they were safe and together as a family. A scowl replaced his smile as he remembered the man with the wheel tattoo give him a tin soldier, just before he saw another man point a gun at his mama and killed her. He was angry at himself for not realising the danger before it was too late. The last thing he remembered of his beautiful mama was her laughing. He closed his eyes tight as he remembered her laughter. He vowed to himself that if he ever saw someone with a wheel tattoo on their arm, he would slowly kill them with his bare hands.

He closed the lid on his precious box of memories and replaced it back onto the mantle. Wheels screeched to a halt outside his house as he saw Sam pull up in his black challenger. He was glad he had suggested to Hetty to provide Sam with a car that suited his character rather than a standard issued vehicle. It enabled them to shoot and chase down the bad guys whilst on the run. It also meant Sam was happiest behind the wheel. It gave him the opportunity to think while they travelled. He would remain quiet for the majority of the drive into work, frustrating Sam so much that they would slide into banter, which continued into the office each morning. It meant that he could hide his real feelings from his boss. Feelings he had mastered to hide to create an illusion that he was who everyone thought he was. G Callen, a man without a name. He chuckled inwardly hiding his amusement to the whole situation. If only they knew, he thought to himself.

He climbed into the challenger and greeted his partner. "Hey Sam. How's the family?" It had become a ritual, the greeting and question that would lead Sam into detail of the life of the Hanna family that kept him occupied so his thoughts could wander again.

It had amused him while he was growing up, being moved from orphanages to foster homes. Each and every person's reaction to a letter for a name. The fact was, he'd had so many different names before his fifth birthday, it was a struggle to remember the one he had been born with. Each place they lived in, he, his sister, and parents had a new name. He had prided himself from a young age in adapting to new situations, picking up the language and becoming a new alias. He saw the pride in his parents' eyes at his talent. He had overheard his parents speak quietly that he was a born operator. He was a beautiful boy and was admired by everyone he had come across.

"One day my dear son, you will become a Federal Agent for my Father's country and then you will do great things." His mama told him over many occasion.

He thought it was a kick in the heart when it took for his mother's death for him to be sent abroad to America and thrown into the foster care system. To become a number, a statistic. No name, no family, no one to care for him. It came with the territory he knew, of being the son of parents who worked for the CIA. It was in his blood and he knew that was his destiny. Oh yes, both of his parents were CIA operatives, undercover in Romania and Russia. But what the CIA hadn't planned on, was for Nathan Read and Clara Callen to bump into each other whilst on their separate assignments and fall in love. He was Nikita Reznikov, Major in the KGB. She was Corina Cuza, a local Roma girl who had worked hard to get in with her target: the Comescus. If only she had known the danger she was in for being a Callen, she would have never gone back to the country where she was born. His parents went underground, moving from country to country within Europe, hoping to escape the all seeing eye of the CIA. But Nathan's work caught up with him. Enemies of Clara's father caught up with her. Leaving him and his sister alone to defend for themselves.

Callen remembered a man from the CIA who had found them on the beach, too late to save their mother and took them to America separating him from his sister. The only person he had left who really knew who he was and loved him. They were told it was not safe for them to remain together, but he knew better. They were being prepared to be the best of the best. It was then that he had decided to pretend to be that scared little boy who had no memory of his life with his family. He became another alias. He created another illusion.

"You haven't heard a single word I said, have you, G?" Sam whined as he pulled up outside the so called condemned Water Treatment Plant.

Another illusion, he quietly thought. "I heard every word Sam. You were moaning about how Kamran and Michelle were ganging up against you for a girly flick. Face it Sam, you live in a house with a princess. She need her prince to be strong and reassure her that he will keep her safe. Part of that is allowing the princess to watch girly flicks and dress you up in pink tutus, giant pink kiss me ties and flowers around your neck." He smirked as they entered the building. He wish he could spend more time admiring the carved wooden doors they walked through every day. It reminded him of one of his childhood homes in Europe. It had been in Prague, the house sat on the wall of the city with a scenic view over a river and weeping willows that were beautiful in the spring and summer. It smelled of oak, which always brought the memory of happier times for him.

Sam shook his head. "You're supposed to be on my side, G. You're my partner. My brother." Sam pushed the word out there, knowing it would get a reaction out of Callen.

Callen stopped at the entrance of the bull pen. He was stunned Sam had pulled the brother card out in front of Hetty. It wasn't supposed happen like this. Right there at work. Sure, Sam had used the brother word to him on numerous occasions, but up until now he had never said it at work. And every time Sam used the word it broke him down. The walls he kept up around his heart for all these years. He had worked hard to keep them there, to protect the illusion of who he was. But their escapade to Romania where they had rescued Hetty had shown a part of him to Sam, Kensi and Deeks that he could no longer hold back. They saw him crumble to his knees as his emotions ravaged through him. He was home. One of many, but he had lived there with his parents and sister. The last home he'd had before it all went horribly wrong. Sam had forced his hand as the memory of his mother's murder came rushing to the forefront of his mind. He spieled another lie, as if that memory had been lost until he walked onto the beach. But it had been accessible at any time he was alone. When he would cry for his mama. But that day in Romania his emotions changed to anger. His promise to himself to kill them all took over.

It was ever since then, Sam had pushed the brother relationship out into the open, sensing his need for family. How right he was. But Callen was still in denial of it. Callen opened his mouth and quickly closed it again. He sensed Hetty's presence behind him and stiffened.

"Morning, Mr Callen, Mr Hanna. How are you both this morning?" The master of illusions, as Callen aptly named Hetty, eyed the men closely.

"Morning, Hetty," Sam replied. Sam chuckled as he saw how uncomfortable Callen was.

"Hetty!" Was all Callen could muster before diving for the coffee from the kitchenette.

Hetty's eyes followed her team leader as he worked on making his coffee, ignoring her as he went along. She had heard Sam call Callen his brother. It had brought a smile to her lips. Slowly Callen was letting people in. He had been a tough case since a young child. She had tried hard to find him a family, for Clara's sake. But he had refused to be cared for, until the Rostoffs'. Those three months he had lived with them were the happiest for the boy she was so fond of. That was why she mustered a good deal and procured the house for him.

Callen focused on his actions, blocking out his senses that screamed from within. He tensed the muscles in his arms as he made the simplest motion of making a drink. He had worked too hard to allow anyone inside his inner sanctum. But slowly he saw Sam and Hetty creep inside those high steel walls. Hell, he had even handed in his badge and gun to find Hetty and rescue her from the Comescus. The older woman had earned his trust over the years in taking care of him from a distance. He knew all along that she was a friend of his mother's. Clara had shown him a photo of people to trust. One of those was Hetty. The other two were men. He knew who they were and he kept a close watch on them just in case he needed them. But he needed to be watchful, unsure, even at forty-three years of age, just how much they could be trusted. But one of them tested him to the max. Rubbed him the wrong way. He played along, creating an illusion that he had no idea who he was. The man of his thoughts entered the Spanish style mission and broke his concentration of thought.

"Agent Callen." Callen turned and faced the brown eyed man, nonchalantly.

"Yes, Assistant Director?" He raised his cup to his lips and sipped the brown liquid, gulping slowly, whilst he inhaled the calming effects the caffeine drink provided.

"I need to speak with you." Owen Granger looked worried.

Callen sighed. The man had refused to stop bothering him since his arrival a few years back, but his curiosity piqued at the concerned expression the older man bore. He raised his brow waiting for the man to continue.

"Privately." Owen urged Callen to venture into the armoury, hoping for some time alone with the blue eyed agent.

Callen followed, shaking his head as he followed, unaware Hetty and Sam watched them.

"What's that all about?" Sam asked their Operations Manager, he was ready to run in and rescue his partner at any moment.

"I have no idea." Hetty remained in her spot in the bull pen with a quizzical expression on her face.

Callen leaned on the side wall of the armoury, waiting for whatever Granger had to say. But Granger only paced up and down the room.

"Hetty will bill you for any ware and tear marks you leave on that carpet," Callen quipped.

Granger stopped at the smart remark made by the younger man and glared at him. He looked into his cerulean blue eyes, trying to see if he knew who he was. He saw nothing. He knew Callen had a reputation of being the best at undercover work, there was still a possibility. It was imperative he took the chance. "Do you know who I am?"

Callen smirked. "Yes of course. You are Assistant Director of NCIS, Owen Granger." He wondered where this was leading.

"Yes, of course I know you know that." Owen moved closer. "Do you know anything else about me?"

Callen tilted his head and thought for a moment on exactly what to say. He narrowed his eyes as his mind worked as fast as Nell's for an answer. "Hetty said that you can be trusted. I take her word for it."

Granger closely watched Callen at work, thinking quickly, he knew exactly how intelligent he really was. One of the few who did. He was up there with Nell Jones, their Intelligence Analyst. Only no one else knew. Unfortunately, G. Callen knew and he could use that piece of secret to his advantage. "How's Nathan?" He put out there at a whisper, hoping to catch Callen off guard, unsuccessfully.

"Nathan who?" Callen knew where Granger was going. Testing the waters to see if he remembers him from his early years. How could he not? The man had rescued him and his sister from the Comescus that day on the beach. He was sent there by his father to keep them safe.

"I need to know if you know who Nathan is?" Granger continued to speak in a whisper, just incase another member of the team were lurking around.

"Is there something this Nathan you speak of needs to know?" Callen asked. "Just in case I come across this so called man with this name. I however, still don't have a name. Some people have all the luck." Inwardly Callen chuckled. He loved to taunt people and he was having fun with Granger.

Granger watched Callen cross his arms over his chest and it was that action that confirmed to him that Callen did indeed remember. "I need to get an urgent message to this Nathan." Granger decided to take the risk and continued. "Do you know how I can get this to him?" He held out a A4 sized envelope, addressed to Nicolas Ressa.

Callen took the envelope from Granger and studied the name. It had been a very long time since he had heard that name. He moved his finger over the lettering as if it was gilded. He looked back up at Granger. "Janvier knows, doesn't he? He said an old name when we had him in custody the first time."

"Gascon. I remember. You did well not to react to him. You have done better than any of us expected. Unfortunately he does. He remembers you from when you were four years old. Your blue eyes gave you away. But there is more. Janvier was the one who told the Comescus who your mother really was. He is the reason why she was killed on the beach before I could reach the three of you. Janvier is still up to his old tricks, even from behind bars. But he doesn't know that you remember."

"Does Hetty know that I know?" Callen inquired. He had worked hard to hide it from everyone.

"I'm not sure. You know her better than most. Most probably. But she's not let on if she does. You've been the best illusionist to date, Agent Callen. Even outdone the duchess of deception I would say." Granger watched Callen smirk at his comment. Callen had studied Hetty over many years and learnt even more from her to be the best of the best.

"What alerted you to the need to get this to Nathan?" Callen knew that it had to be important for Granger to risk this meeting to speak of his father.

"An old alias of his has been heard in some chatter over in Russia," Owen revealed.

"Nikita?" Callen raised his brow, knowing that particular alias had left his father locked away for five years in a Russian prison camp. Callen had to wait five years before he was reunited with his father. No one could understand why Callen had run away from his foster family and left Washington D.C. for Montana. There he spent the next three months with his father, until he was found on the road one day and he was taken back into the welfare system. Slowly he ended up on the west coast, in Los Angeles.

"No! Nikodim," Granger replied.

"But he hasn't been him since..."

"You were only two. Yet you remembered your family name from that time to feel safe with your foster family that bore the same name."

"Rostoffs. It felt like it was meant to be, but then I felt like I was being watched, I had to disappear again." Callen gulped back the lump in his throat of having to leave the loving Russian family.

"I'll arrange for you to have some time off, go home." Owen smiled at Callen knowing how much the young man enjoyed his time with his family, although always short lived.

Callen shook his head. "Sam and Hetty will be suspicious. Send me undercover on a classified assignment. That will be the best way. No one else has to know…" He cut his words off quickly as he heard footsteps near the armoury.

Owen caught on immediately. "Okay, Agent Callen. I need you to deliver that envelope to the man whose name is inscribed. You are not to let it out of your sight. Tell no one where you are going. See you in a week. If you haven't returned by then, I will send out a search party." Owen turned and saw Sam standing in the entrance to the room with his hands wedged into his pockets, ready to protect Callen if he was needed.

Callen nodded and left, with Sam hot on his heels.