A/N: Hi everyone! So this story idea sort of came to me during a boring afternoon at my internship. It'll hopefully turn into a multi-chapter fic but for now, this is what I have. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: LA or any of the characters.
When Callen walked into Mission that morning, his head was pounding and his legs felt wobbly. He entered the bullpen, ignoring the knowing looks his partner was sending his way, and heavily dropped his bag beside his desk. As usual, Special Agent Sam Hanna, his partner for the last 5 years was first to arrive at the headquarters of the NCIS Office of Special Projects; its location, of course, classified. The tall, dark, muscular man was already sipping his morning coffee. Callen sat down wearily, noting that neither Special Agent Kensi Blye, his desk mate, nor her partner Detective Marty Deeks, the team's LAPD liaison, were present. He stretched his tired body in an attempt to loosen his muscles, rubbed his eyes and began his pending paper work.
"Good morning mateys!" exclaimed Deeks as he strolled casually into the bullpen dropping his messenger bag onto his desk. The blond haired, blue eyed detective headed towards the pantry, observing Callen's coffee-less desk. "Would anyone fancy a coffee?" Kensi entered the bullpen shortly after him, shaking her head as she settled into her station. She was wearing her usually attire of jeans and a wide checkered shirt, her sleeves rolled up and her brown hair framing her slim face.
"He's in Captain Jack Sparrow phase this morning. Remind me to never offer him a ride again. Ever."
Sam chuckled, responding with, "Roger that." Kensi smiled at the senior agent, her mismatched eyes warm. Her gaze turned toward her agent-in-charge and took in his fatigued body language. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong but saw Sam was shaking his head from the corner of her eye. She nodded, deciding to leave Callen alone and resumed spreading out her paper work. Unfortunately, unlike her, Deeks didn't get the message. He strode back into the bullpen balancing three cups of coffee in his hand, setting one on Kensi's desk, the other on Callen's desk before taking a sip out of the third. Callen didn't look up from his paper work and let out a grunt in lieu of a thank you.
"What's up with you?" Callen looked up to see that Deeks had directed the question to him. "You've come in looking like a zombie ever since we wrapped up the Molina case." Sam was desperately sending abort signals to the detective but the shaggy haired man, leaning against his desk, paid no mind.
"I haven't been sleeping well," Callen responded curtly.
Deeks opened his mouth to continue his interrogation but quickly shut it at the sight of Hetty, their operations manager, approaching the bullpen. Her small frame moved lithely across the open space, an ability that allowed her to sneak up on even her best agents. Callen had even once suggested the addition of a bell to her usual formal attire. She walked past Sam and Kensi, her eyes flashing. Deeks quickly recognized the look on Hetty's face and shifted his weight back onto his feet, moving to sit behind his desk. Hetty marched up to Callen's desk sternly, observing the man in front of her briefly. His short cropped blond hair was longer than usual and his usually sharp blue eyes were glassy. Despite Hetty's commanding presence, the senior agent continued to focus on the reports cluttering the surface of his table.
"Mr. Callen, if you do not start taking care of yourself, I will be forced to declare you unfit for –"
"Fine."
Silence fell over the large open space of the office, the staff and other agents shrunk into the shadows of the large arcs surrounding the workspace. Eric and Nell, who had descended the stairs to gather the team for a new case, stopped in their tracks. The team had expected Callen to indignantly claim that he was fine and that Hetty had no right to remove him from his own team.
"Go home Mr. Callen," Hetty responded firmly, once she had overcome her initially surprise at his reply to her threat.
"I'm perfectly capable of doing paperwork,"
"I fear that you aren't taking me seriously Mr. Callen. You're stressed, isolated and most certainly not sleeping. Perhaps if you allowed me to furnish your home…"
"She's right man. I don't want you watching my back if you can barely stand on your own two feet. When was the last time you had an actual meal?" Sam asked. He had decided to join the conversation in hopes of getting his boss's point across to his stubborn, thick-skulled friend. Callen suddenly had the distinct impression he was being ganged up on. The comment about watching Sam's back definitely stung. He was dizzy, annoyed and his body ached; a lecture was the last thing he needed.
"You want me to go home? Fine, I'm going." Callen threw some of the files into his outbox and rest back into his bag. He packed up his laptop, pulled his bag onto his shoulder and slipped past his boss, who was a foot shorter than him yet looked like thunder itself, past his colleagues' desks and out the door he had entered through only 20 minutes earlier.
Though it was evident that Hetty was unnerved by Callen's departure, she turned on her heel without missing a beat and looked at the rest of her agents expectantly. "Ops, ladies and gentleman, we have a case," she said exasperated. Eric and Nell exchanged looks and quickly began the descent up towards the state-of-the-art operations center on the second floor of the office. Kensi, Deeks and Sam awkwardly got to their feet, following the Wonder Twins up the stairs, glancing back at Hetty and then at each other in an attempt to understand what had just transpired.
The sliding doors pulled apart with the sound of gushing air as the agents walked into the brightly lit room. Eric and Nell had resumed their usual positions at the side of the screen, tablets in hand, and gazes focused on the numerous photos littered across the screen.
"These are Abid Haji and Basit Ghafar. They're Afghani nationals that were found dead this morning on the Santa Monica Pier. Facial recognition picked up on them instantly when LAPD send us the photos," Nell began the briefing.
"That's because these men are on FBI's watch list. They're long suspected members of an Afghani militant terrorist organization that operates out of Los Angeles," Eric continued. "One of them, Haji, had a cell phone on him. The phone itself wasn't a lead; it only bore his fingerprints and was registered under his own name. However, the only calls that came from the phone were to a burn phone."
"Where you able to find out who it belongs to?" Sam asked.
"It was bought with a fake ID and is registered to a bogus name," Eric replied. "But, I was able to trace the number and I have a lock on the phone. It's turned off, but I can turn it on remotely and get you a location."
"Why are we interested in these homicides?" Kensi asked, flipping through the photos on the screen.
"Other than the fact that these men could lead us to the militant group, there has been increased online chatter, according to Mr. Beale, about an explosive device the organization has recently acquired," Hetty added, joining her agents and analysts as they discussed the case. "Ms. Blye, Mr. Deeks I would like you to please make your way to the crime scene. See if LAPD missed anything that may be useful to our investigation." Kensi and Deeks nodded, heading out the door already exchanging ideas about possible scenarios.
"Mr. Hanna, a word." Before he could say anything, Hetty left the Ops Center, making her way to her office. The bulking agent sighed, knowing this conversation was undoubtedly about his partner. Before following her, he sent a quick nod towards the Wonder Twins. They nodded back, taking their seats in front of the computers and began working on getting him a location for the burn phone.
When he reached her office, Hetty was already seated in her chair, sipping quietly on a fresh cup of tea. "Would you like a cup, Mr. Hanna?" she inquired.
Irritated, he shook his head, "We're wasting time talking about Callen, Hetty. I need to be out there tracking down the owner of that burn phone."
"Not without a partner Mr. Hanna,"
"You sent my partner home, remember Hetty?"
"Do not mock me. Go, stop by his house and convince him to understand what I've spent so long trying to make him see. The Molina case is the last straw. He blames himself for what happened and frankly I do too. If he can't take care of himself, then I don't trust him to take care of you." Hetty paused, taking a sip of her tea and allowing Sam to mull over the last sentence. "If he decides to come with you, fine. But if he decides to stay, you have permission to go alone. Be careful Mr. Hanna."
Satisfied with her answer, he nodded curtly and headed across the office space and out the door. He slipped into the driver seat of the Challenger, dialing Eric's number.
"Go for Wolfram," the technical operator replied.
"Send me the coordinates for the location of the burn phone as soon as you've got them."
"Done," Eric responded cheerily before disconnecting the line.
Sam maneuvered the Challenger out of his parking spot and waded through the LA traffic towards Callen's house on the outskirts of the city. A half hour later, he pulled into his usual spot in Callen's driveway. He heard a ding on his phone as Eric forwarded him a set of coordinates. From his peripheral vision he caught the slight movement of the curtains covering the large windows of the living room. Rolling his eyes at his partner's lack of discretion, Sam opened the car door and walked up the driveway and up the porch steps. The door was open before he had a chance to knock. Callen was already headed towards the kitchen.
"Want a beer?"
"It's 11 o'clock in the morning."
"So?"
That was pretty much Sam's breaking point. He stepped forward, towering over the blond man whose back was turned to him, and promptly cuffed him across the back of his head. Callen's body jerked forward at the impact, his hand reaching up to massage his skull.
He whipped around, his face twisted in annoyance. "What the hell was that for?"
"That was for being a selfish son-of-a-bitch,"
"I don't remember much about my mother but I'm sure she wasn't a bitch,"
"Stop joking around man. This is serious. You're not eating, you're not sleeping, you're not taking care of yourself." Though Sam's tone was harsh, Callen could sense the worry and the fear behind it. "If you keep going like this, you're going to get yourself killed or maybe even one of us. Is it too hard to get a real bed? Get some actual sleep? Consume something besides pizza and beer?"
"I don't need a bed. And pizza and beer is a perfectly acceptable meal," Callen shot back.
"You're a danger to the team," Sam replied firmly.
"Well, the Molina case proved that didn't it! I'm home, I'm not working and I'll stay away from the team and our cases as long as you want me to. Are you happy?!" Callen yelled, stocking away from his partner childishly, heading back towards the living room where his sparse belongings were spread.
"No, I'm not happy! The Molina case may have been your fault but there's this thing called forgiveness. I forgive you, Kensi and Deeks forgive you. Why can't you forgive yourself and move on with your life?" Sam responded, his voice softening.
"Because Hetty can't." Sam suddenly realized he had no idea how to react to Callen's almost inaudible admission.
"Get in the car."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes you are. We have a location on a burn phone that traces back to two Afghani terrorists found dead on the pier this morning. The terrorist group might be connected to an explosive device."
Callen sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face roughly. He knew there was no arguing with his partner, he was going to pick himself off the ground whether or not he liked it. But right now, the ground seemed like the perfect place to curl up and never face the world again.
A/N: Review por favor!