Sam left the room in a slow pace. It was not usual for him to call his wife when something went wrong at work – he could barely talk to her about anything work-related. Everything had a huge potential to jeopardize national security or to permanently damage international relationships or to put his family in danger or to put his team in danger or any other kind of horrible consequence that would lead, one way or another, to excruciating pain.
But this time was different and Sam knew it. He knew it the minute he saw the doctor's face when he left the operation room.
He didn't really remember making it all the way through the hospital corridors towards the front exit, but somehow he did. Spotting a little bench further from the front doors and all the hospital fuss, Sam sat and dialed Michelle's number. He wasn't really sure what to tell her - all words seemed too hollow compared to what he was about to say, but he knew he had to say something. After all, Michelle cared about him as much as Sam did; telling her afterwards would be too disrespectful.
"Sam?", he heard his wife's voice after a few beeps.
"Hey, Michelle", Sam didn't mean to say those words with such a broken tone, but he couldn't help it. He and Callen had been partners for more than six years and both of them had to go through some really tough moments, but somehow Sam hoped he never had to face a situation like the one he had to deal with four years ago, when Callen was shot multiple times. He could still remember what it felt like to hold his partner while he was bleeding – he tried to stop it but there were too many wounds. Thankfully help arrived quickly and Callen recovered, but it was weeks before he could leave the hospital. And somehow Sam couldn't forget the way G looked when he was in life support during that time. It was the only time he was actually afraid to lose his partner. That is, until now.
He must have been silent for a while because Michelle was now asking him if something was wrong. Trying to focus on the task at hands, Sam sighed.
"Sam, what's going on?", he could now notice some tension in her voice.
"It's Callen.", Sam hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Saying it out loud would make it real and he didn't want it to be real.
"What about him?", there was a long pause in which Michelle waited for an answer; realizing he was hesitating again, she insisted. "Sam, what happened to him?"
Sam sighed. "He's been shot". There was a long silence while Michelle understood the full meaning of the words. Callen was shot many times and Sam never spoke about them this way. The last time Michelle had heard him say that G had been shot he sounded exactly like this and she remembered pretty well how nasty the situation was. Sam spent a lot of nights by Callen's hospital bed, waiting – not sure of what the outcome could be – until, at last, G recovered. And after that, Sam continued to visit him so he wouldn't be too bored – G Callen hated hospitals and needles and being in the same place for too long. Especially in a hospital where you couldn't do anything but sleep and watch other people sleep.
"How bad is it?", she finally managed to ask.
"Bad. I think you should come here."
Michelle hesitated. "Okay… I'll…I'll just leave the kids with my mother and I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Alright.", Sam ended the call and got up. He didn't really want to go back to the waiting room where they had been waiting for news. All of the team was there and each one of them seemed as broken as he did, which wasn't something he wanted to deal with at the moment. But he had to. The team was part of his family too, and family was supposed to support each other when things went bad. And, in all honesty, Sam needed them too.
His phone rang, alerting him to a received message.
"Where are you? K."
Realizing he couldn't avoid it anymore, Sam went back inside, passing through all the corridors again, until he reached the small waiting room just outside the door that would lead to the operation room.
Kensi was there, sitting on a chair in the corner, her hands in her face, while her elbows rested on her knees. It was like she had the whole world in her shoulders and was trying to hold it back – but Sam knew she was failing at it. Deeks was right by her side, one hand in her back, trying to help her cope, but it was obvious he was also having a hard time with all the situation.
"Hey.", Sam said. Kensi reacted immediately by looking up at him, her eyes watery from all the tears she was trying to hold back.
"Where have you been?"
"I was talking to Michelle.", Kensi nodded. "She'll be here in a few minutes".
"I called Eric and Nell.", Deeks told Sam. "They should be here any minute as well".
Sam then sat close to Deeks, who preferred to look at the floor in an absent way; Kensi returned to her previous position with her eyes closed and tried to steady her breathing. Sam just rested the back of his head on the wall, focusing his eyes on some random spot on the ceiling, trying to forget about what was going on.
"Do have any idea where Hetty is?", Deeks asked after a few moments.
"Talking to the doctor, I think", Sam answered him, not exactly sure about the information he was giving him, but not really worrying about it.
The silence lasted for a few more minutes while each one of them kept whatever they were feeling to themselves. Sam could see how Deeks was slowly shaking his leg, maybe trying to calm himself down, while Kensi just kept on breathing slowly but steadily. None of them expected this outcome during the mission and none of them knew how to deal with it. G was their team leader, the solid rock they could somehow turn to – if he could do it, so could they. But now their team leader was laying on a bed fighting for his life and somehow they felt a little lost.
They were NCIS agents but if there was something Sam learned during his career it was that nothing ever prepared them to face moments like this one. Sure, there were risks and they all knew it – they handled guns and fought terrorists almost every day -, but this was slightly different. Callen was the one responsible for every single one of them while on a mission: he was the one who divided the tasks in the team, he was the one who planed the mission, he was the one responsible if something went wrong, and yet he never flinched. If one of them was in danger, he would be the first to go on a rescue mission; if one of them had a problem, he was the first to notice; if someone was feeling down he was the first to give a sassy grin and make a joke. G Callen was much more than he thought he was and that is way him being shot was breaking them apart. It wasn't fair that he had to go trough this and, most of all, it wasn't fair that they couldn't do anything to help him.
The silence on the room was disturbing him more than anything else at the moment. For some reason, even though he was aware of the seriousness of G's condition, part of him felt like it was not really happening. Part of him hoped the doctor's diagnosis was wrong and refused to accept the fact that maybe it wasn't; it was a lot easier to just pretend like the doctor was wrong, like the fright was a necessary but mistaken feeling so Callen could make jokes about it when he woke up. And then Sam would laugh as well, and soon enough Callen would be back to work, being the typical lone wolf, avoiding physical or emotional contact and doing what he did best. Or so he hoped.
He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he got startled when something touched his shoulder. Looking to his side, he found Hetty; her face, usually showing an expression he would sometimes describe as "poker face", was now mixed with some sadness, which didn't make her expression any softer – if anything, she just looked more tense, almost as if she wasn't really sure how to deal with the situation either.
"Any news?", Sam asked while she sat next to him, the rest of the team now paying attention to her as well.
"No. They are still trying to remove the last bullet.", he could feel Deeks and Kensi sighing again, returning to their original positions. The silence fell on the room again, but it felt a lot heavier this time. Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I failed him", he whispered. He was talking more to himself than to the people in the room, but he knew they could hear him and he could actually feel their eyes on him.
"That's not true, Mr. Hanna", Hetty paused, "You did exactly what you were supposed to do in that situation: you all stick to the plan Mr. Callen designed and you followed his lead."
"We are supposed to protect each other. I failed him, Hetty."
"You couldn't imagine there was going to be a shooter in that spot.", she insisted, "It was a blind spot, Mr. Hanna, and he knew it. It was a risk he decided to take for the good of the mission."
Sam got up, feeling too restless to remain in his chair. He knew the team was waiting for him to say something but those words were echoing in his head. Failure. He failed G. And G had never failed him. It was like all the work he had done before as a SEAL and as an NCIS agent, in that particular moment, was worth nothing.
"It was all in vain, Hetty.", he whispered once again with some anger in his voice. "We couldn't complete the mission, G got shot and now we're nowhere close to find who was behind this attack. It was in vain."
The woman looked to the floor for a few seconds trying to organize her ideas. Sam was right, what effort Callen had made to prevent this criminal from escaping was wasted the minute he was first hit. The team did all they could to get the man – dead or alive, it didn't matter anymore – but he ran away anyway, leaving Sam behind, trying to maintain Callen alive, and Kensi and Deeks helping in any way they could but not really feeling like they were succeeding.
"We always knew this was a possibility, Mr. Hanna.", Hetty finally answered him, looking straight at him, almost like she was trying to read his thoughts, while reassuring herself at the same time.
"Yeah, but doesn't make it any easier.", turning his back on the rest of the team, Sam decided to leave the waiting room. His breathing was starting to sound unsteady and he wouldn't (couldn't) lose what little was holding him together; it was not an option at the moment. So he leaned on the wall, his eyes closed, trying to prevent the images of Callen being shot by breathing slowly, but it wasn't working.
"Sam?", he looked towards the voice, acknowledging Nell as its owner. Eric was right behind her with a serious expression as Sam had never seen before. "Are there any news?"
He sighed.
"That'll be a 'no'…", Eric replied. They kept looking at each other for a few seconds, while the ex-SEAL tried to understand what else the two of them wanted from him. It was with a feeling of fright that he realized they were waiting for some type of support – something he couldn't do at the moment -, they were waiting for him to convince them there was a chance for Callen, they were waiting for him to show them the lead. They were waiting for him to be the leader, something he refused to be, because G was their leader and he didn't want it to change.
Understanding Sam's uneasiness, Nell decided to take advantage of Michelle's arrival to grab Eric by the arm and enter the waiting room. "We'll be in there with them.", she said before turning away. Sam nodded, showing her he understood.
But the silence didn't last very long. The minute Nell and Eric entered the waiting room, his wife reached him, her face tense and her eyes a bit frightened.
"Hey.", she gave him a hug that was most welcome at that point, and he just sunk in her embrace, knowing she was trying to give him all the support in the world, trying to be solid for him. "You want to tell me what happened?"
Sam grabbed her hand and moved further away from the waiting room towards some scattered chairs, where they both sit. It took him a few minutes to gain some courage to tell her what happened but she waited patiently. Michelle could see her husband was hurting: Callen was like a brother to him and she knew there was nothing these two wouldn't do to protect each other. Hell, she was hurting as well, knowing that receiving a call from Sam meant something was really wrong with G, the man who always complimented her cooking and lost part of his sober look every time he played with theirs kids who even referred to him as "Uncle G". But she knew what it was like to deal with a wounded partner, she had been there before as well, and she was aware that he needed to put his ideas in order before starting to talk.
"You know I can't give you any details of the mission…", she nodded. "We were tracking down some people and Eric found a safe house they had, so we moved in." He paused. "We saw the building blue print and we noticed there was a blind spot." Michelle's hand tightened in his. "It was risky, we knew it. G knew it. But…"
She sighed. "But you didn't have any option."
"Yeah.", Sam leaned forward, putting his head on his hands, trying to control himself. The image of G being shot was clear in his head, repeating itself over and over again – the more he tried to stop it, the worst. "G didn't see the shooter and neither did I. When I spotted him he had already fired some bullets and G had been hit."
"In the chest?" her voice was soft but the tension was there, lurking, trying to get hold of her.
"Yes… but one hit him in the head."
Silence.
"Well, what… What do the doctors say?" Michelle asked him, her voice breaking a little.
"They told us to not get our hopes too high."
Michelle finally sighed while leaning back on the chair. Head injuries were serious and doctors don't lie – sure, sometimes they make the situation look worse just in case all hell breaks loose: it's better for the family to be prepared in advance rather than giving them a small hope that will be cruelly destroyed. But there isn't really much hope when someone gets shot in the head.
"It didn't have a straight trajectory so it didn't kill him right away… but he wasn't awake when I reached him." Sam looked at her, noticing she was trying to hide the tears.
"Oh, Sam…" she closed her eyes "That doesn't sound good."
"No, it doesn't." There, Sam said it. G's survival chances were the lowest he ever had to face since they've worked together and nothing Sam did would help his brother. Sam had failed on protecting the same man who never stopped protecting him and his family.
Both of them were trying to keep it together, each one in their very own particular way. They were trained to face bad and stressful situations but whatever you learn during all the classes and years of experience is not focused on the possibility of losing a partner. People talk about it and give the agents some tips but no one ever knows what's like to lose a partner until they do, and Sam had faced this before – with SEAL colleagues, with Dom… it was never easy. But Sam and Callen weren't just partners, they were best friends, they were brothers. They were family.
Looking back at Michelle, Sam realized she was now focusing her eyes towards the door that would lead to the operation room. The doctor was now leaving and was clearly walking towards him.
"Mr. Hannah?", Sam got up and called for Hetty, who immediately left the waiting room to join both men. The team followed, shyly, keeping their distance as if they recognized that the Operations Manager and Senior Agent should be the first ones to talk to the surgeon, simply because they were the first two contacts on Callen's list in case of emergency.
"The surgery is over, then.", Hetty stated, waiting for the doctor to proceed.
"Yes.", there was a small pause. "But I'm afraid I bring you bad news.", the ex-SEAL could see the tension in everyone and certainly he didn't look any different. "We removed all bullets from Mr. Callen's body, including the one in the head, but I'm afraid the brain damage is too great.", the surgeon had said this with a very soft tone, aware of the consequences his words implied, but it still felt like a punch in the stomach for Sam. He could feel the sensation of loss overcoming him with this horrible chill that froze him, making it impossible to focus on whatever the doctor was saying.
"…we will make new physical examination in the following twenty-four hours but I strongly suggest you use the next few hours to be with your friend."
"What then?", Kensi asked, her voice breaking from trying to control her emotions.
"Then… We'll need to talk about the options available.", the doctor watched them carefully, knowing he was delivering too much information at once, but aware that he had no other choice. "And eventually turn life support off.", she sobbed, finally unable to avoid it. "I'm very sorry… I'll let you know when he'll be ready for you to see him."
The man turned away from them, returning to the operation room, leaving each one of them lost in their own thoughts and pain. Nobody moved for a while, some of them still staring at the door the doctor had just been trough, maybe waiting for it to be a really terrible joke, maybe just waiting for it to be a really bad dream, but eventually reality struck in and the reactions started. Sam could clearly hear Kensi sobbing, even though the sounds were muffled, probably because she was trying to repress the grief that was now overcoming the whole team.
Hetty turned slowly and started to walk away, towards the exit. There was no expression in her face and she almost looked numb. Sam just sat back again, trying to ignore any laments or cries or any other sounds he could hear. He wanted to block everything out, including the knowledge that his best friend was lying in a bed, dying. Because that's what was happening. Even if the machines kept on working, his body would eventually give in. He knew it: if the brain was dead there was nothing else to fight for; the damage was irreversible.
Michelle's hand touched his shoulder; he moved so he could put his arms around her, almost in a hug, while she leaned on his chest, using his presence to feel some comfort.
"I'm so sorry, Sam…", he heard in a whisper. "I'm so, so, sorry…"
"I know.", he hugged her more strongly, also trying to find some comfort in her arms while his body started to shake from the sobbing.
Sam exited the hospital once more, this time looking for Hetty. The woman had mysteriously disappeared – which wasn't that unusual for her – but the clock was ticking and he was pretty sure the Operations Manager wanted to say her goodbyes. He hadn't gone to see G either; part of him felt that delaying it would avoid his death, but he knew that wasn't true and it was time to face it. Either they said goodbye or they wouldn't: after that the machines would be turned off and Sam couldn't let G leave without saying goodbye. Hell, he wasn't even sure he would be able to let G leave…
Hetty was sitting right on the bench he had been earlier, looking at some distant spot in front of her, not really aware of what was surrounding her. The ex-SEAL moved towards her and sat, knowing she was now aware of him, knowing she was aware it was time.
"Have you been with him already?", she asked.
"No, Hetty.", her eyes pierced him and Sam knew she was reading his emotions – and succeeding at it.
"You didn't have the heart to go to him yet.", Sam sighed. "Neither did I, Mr. Hanna… And honestly I don't know if I'll get the necessary courage to do it."
"He wouldn't hate us for not going, you know?"
It was her turn to sigh. "No, he wouldn't, but his entire life he felt excluded. He didn't have a family and the only reason why he wouldn't hate us for not being there is because deep down he always felt alone.", there was a small pause. "He always felt content with any small bit of attention and never got mad at not getting enough of it, simply because that's what he was used to."
"He knew we cared, Hetty."
"I'm sure he did, Mr. Hanna, but I can't help but wonder how much more we could have given him. Plus, he would be there for us, if the situation was different."
He watched her closely, finally understanding why it was being so difficult for Hetty to act. "He knew you cared, Hetty."
"Maybe he did. But I can't help feeling I should have been there more often."
"Hetty, we were the closest thing Callen had to family. He knew he could count on us, he knew we cared and he dealt with it in his own terms.", he shifted in his seat, his body incredibly uncomfortable after so many hours of stress. "Callen was… Callen. He didn't talk about it but he knew."
And then Hetty did something Sam didn't expect: she held his hand looking for some strength. It was a silent request, one Sam was comfortable with, and he quickly responded by tightening her hand in his. It was time to say goodbye and neither of them felt like they could do it alone, so they might as well go together.
The minute Sam entered the room Callen was in he could hear the sounds of the machines working, keeping him stuck to something that was not life. He was covered by a sheet but the bandages in his chest were visible, just like the ones in his head in the place he had been hit. Several tubes were stuck in his arms and some were being used to create an artificial breathing, which just made the whole scenario weirder.
G's face was expressionless; his eyes closed, mouth slightly open due to some tubes, his body completely sinking in the mattress, proving that life had abandoned his body a long time ago. It was somehow confusing to see him in that state, with a bit of something similar to life but yet not living. It was painful to see his friend, his brother, just a shadow of what he used to be – a brave man who never hesitated to put his own missions before him. There would be no more "Uncle G" on Sundays, playing hide and seek with his kids.
Sam smiled weakly. Callen could look so detached from human contact, but every time he went to his place his behavior would change. Not drastically, he would still be G Callen, the lone wolf, the legendary agent, but he would use a specific sarcastic tone, one that was way more playful, every time Sam's kids were around. And G wouldn't suddenly roll on the ground but there where tiny things he was pretty good at – his kids always asked him for piggyback ride and G wouldn't hesitate; sometimes his daughter wanted for someone to push her on the swing and Michelle was still cooking, so G would step up and push her himself; other times the kids didn't want to eat, so Callen would come up with some really weird story that, unexplainably, would convince them to do so.
And now Sam had to go home and explain his kids that Uncle G was no longer there.
"Doesn't even look like him.", Hetty said.
"No, it doesn't."
And it was true. The man he could see before him was not his partner and he hated that this would be the last image he would ever have of him: a broken, shallow, shadowed reflex of everything he used to be. And then there was this agony taking control over him, making it harder to swallow or to breathe properly, due to the loss he was dealing with.
"Going to work will never be the same.", he said this time.
"No, Mr. Hannah, it won't."
Both of them went to Callen's side to look at his face one last time. They were the only ones in the room, with the exception of the medical team, responsible for turning the machines off. The door to the room opened slowly and Kensi entered quietly, followed by Deeks. Both of them stood by Sam's side, looking as dreadful as anybody else in there; Kensi had clearly been crying and her partner's face didn't look much different.
Slowly looking at them, Hetty concluded: "I think it is time, then.". The rest of the team nodded and the doctor moved forward. After a few clicks the machines were turned off and there were no more sounds. For a while none of them showed any reaction and just stared at Callen's body, assimilating the fact that he was now totally gone. But when the doctor covered Callen's face with the sheets Kensi couldn't stop herself from crying, and both Deeks and Sam found themselves hugging her, giving and receiving some comfort uniquely from their touch, that strangely enough, gave them this reassuring feeling – they were there and somehow G was still with them. Even if he wasn't.
Only Hetty didn't feel like joining the group hug. And from the corner of his eye, Sam could see her standing straight and serious as ever, but he knew the pain was tearing her inside and it was way more hurtful than any open would she could ever get. Henrietta Lange was not crying and he actually doubted someone would see her do it, but she didn't have to cry because Sam knew exactly what she was feeling.
He was feeling it too.