All characters and all rights at 'NCIS: Los Angeles' belong to CBS and Shane Brennan Productions; no infringement of any data rights is implied. This story was written for the enjoyment of fan fiction readers. Rated T for some cursing and hints of abuse.
It was the holiday season, and the season of lights was celebrated in almost every window and every store. Garish decorations lined the streets, and songs of the season dissolved into each other as storefronts each sounded a different tune.
Sam and Callen had been working together going on three years, their brotherhood still building.
Callen pretty much ignored any kind of holiday, while Sam relished his excitement of the season through his children's eyes.
It was Christmas Eve and Sam and Callen had just wrapped up a case. The day had turned cold and most of the staff and crew had left for the holidays. Sam stared intently at Callen as he was finishing his report on their latest case, Callen's eyes solely lost on his computer screen.
"Hey G, what are you doing for Christmas this year?"
"Why?"
"Why? Because Houdini, it's Christmas and last year you did a disappearing act, the year before that you did a disappearing act …"
"And?"
"Well, this year, I want you to spend Christmas with my family. Michelle would love to have you; she wanted me to invite you."
"Michelle!"
"Michelle and I would love to have you spend the evening with us."
"Why?"
"What why? This isn't 20 questions G! I have to have a reason to invite you over? The past two years you came back with the same story … you stayed home, read a book, relaxed."
"I like relaxed …"
"You said you read a book …"
"I like reading. I like books. …"
"And I have a feeling you spent it alone ."
"I like alone."
"In a dive motel …"
"Speaking of which I think I need to move …"
"G?"
"This conversation is over."
"Don't make me beg."
"Beg! Really?"
"Okay, I'm not going to beg. I'm going to ask you again, nicely, see?" Sam bent at the waist, extending his arms outward. "See, I'm even smiling, Michelle and me would love to have …"
"Michelle and I" Callen corrected.
Sam wondered if this conversation was really, REALLY worth the effort. With a heavy sigh he began again, "Michelle and I would like to have you over for Christmas this year."
"What happened to the 'love'?
"G, so help me …"
"I don't think so big guy. Thanks for asking though. I got stuff to do."
And with that Callen closed his laptop, threw his gym bag over his shoulder, and sauntered away.
"Why do I even …?" Sam threw up his arms in frustration.
xxxxx
It was Christmas evening and a drizzle of rain placed a silence upon the evening. However, in the Hanna household the celebration of family and friends had begun; candles yielded a warm yellow glow and the air was filled with laughter. Sam left a message, again, on Callen's cell phone inviting him over. "The party's just started, you're more than welcome to come."
Callen sat in his motel room listening to Sam's pleas. He'd never been to a real Christmas party; he had been the recipient to the aftermath of the celebration; those memories weren't good. Maybe, just to get him off his back, he would go and see how the other half lived.
xxxxx
The door sounded a knock and Sam called to Michelle, "I'll get it." Opening the front door there stood Callen. "Well, he lives! Houdini has arrived."
"Hi Sam, your invitation still stand?"
"Sure G, come on in. Glad you could join us. Merry Christmas."
Callen stood just inside the door very on edge, his jaw taut and his eyes anxious.
Michelle sauntered up to Callen, giving him a peck on his cheek. Callen stiffened but acknowledged her with a slight bow of his head. "Callen, we're so glad you could make it, come on in. Can I get you something to drink? Wine, beer, we have tea and soft drinks too."
"Nothing thank you. I'm good."
Sam noticed Callen was nervous, and after introductions were made, Callen moved himself just beyond the Christmas tree, trying to make himself invisible.
"He's scared to death" as Michelle grabbed Sam's hands and smiled into his eyes, averting any attention at Callen.
"Yeah, he's about ready to jump out of his skin."
Suddenly there was a knock at the door as Ben, Sam's neighbor, and a friend boiled over through the door, heavily inebriated.
Callen froze as he observed the two men and moved closer behind the tree.
"Merry Christmas Sammy boy. This is my brother Jake. Ya wanna drink?" he slurred holding up an almost empty bottle of whiskey. "t'is the season ya know. Just dropped by to wish you and the misses, and that cute little cupcake over there, 'Hey Kamran', holiday cheer." Ben staggered and grabbed on to the door jam. "Sorry, whoa, me and Jake here been celebrating since this morning … didn't mean to interrupt your party." Ben took a whiff of the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen and in his stupor remembered "Hey Jake, did you turn off that pot of spaghetti on the stove?" Jake mumbled something Sam couldn't hear while Ben, realizing something was amiss at his household, quickly took his leave. "Oops, gotta go. Don't want to burn dinner. Happy Holidays and all that … see you Sam, Michelle. Sorry to bust up your party, but Sam, you're a good guy and we had to say hello. Saw your lights on an everything." The two brothers staggered into the night and crossed the street to their home; Sam watched to ensure they made it home safely.
The visit lasted only minutes, but it was Callen's undoing. He ran to the bathroom breathing heavily, trying desperately not to become ill, but with little success. Sam noticed his partner's meltdown and waited outside the bathroom.
As Callen exited, pale and wide eyed, he saw Sam and immediately put an end to the evening.
"I have to go Sam. Give my regards to Michelle."
"G?" Sam gave him a questioning look. "What the hell's the matter with you."
With no further explanation, Callen exited the back door and vanished into the night.
Sam, with a houseful of guests, shook his head and carried on, side stepping the fact that his partner was no longer in the building. Michelle noticed Callen's absence, but knowing his background, was thankful that maybe just once Callen knew what it was like to be around family, though right now she wasn't sure of anything. She gave her husband an understanding look and the Hanna celebration continued as planned.
xxxxx
Pulling his coat to shield him from the now steady rain, Callen got into his car, trying to compose himself. 'This was a big mistake,' he told himself. 'It was just a harmless party, the people were nice, and everyone was having a good time,' Callen clenched his jaw, quickly buried his inner turmoil, turned on the car's lights, and drove into the darkness.
xxxxx
It was just after midnight and the last of the guests had left, saying their good byes, and extending their well wishes for the new year. All which was left was the clean up. Michelle gazed at Sam as he wandered about mindlessly picking up lipstick stained glasses and emptying plates of half-eaten food; his motions telling her his mind was miles away. She stared at him with soulful eyes; her intuition understanding Sam's need to find his partner and ground him. She approached him and encircled her arms around his waist. "Where are you Sam?"
Sam, realizing his absence of spirit, "Callen. I'm sorry, it's just …"
"Go Sam. Find him, and settle his heart. He's hurting and something set him off tonight. He needs you."
Sam held Michelle's arms, looking sheepishly as he realized his wife knew him better than he knew himself.
"Go!"
Sam hugged his wife tenderly. "Thank you."
"For what?"
He kissed her softly, deeply and then held her face in his large hands and stared into her dark eyes, the soft light of the candles warming her dark skin. After a few moments he spoke lovingly, "For being my wife, for being the mother of our children, for understanding. God I love you." With that he kissed her again, grabbed his keys off of the key holder, and ran out the door.
xxxxx
It was just after 1 o'clock as the Challenger roared through the streets of Venice Beach. A cloud burst of rain pelted his windows, each drop magnifying the street lights and exploding into a thousand stars. The wiper sporadically cleared those stars as he searched for his friend. He went by Callen's motel but neither Callen's car nor Callen had made their presence. Caught in a tiring yawn, he drove a bit further, forcing his eyes wide to clear the fog in his head. Seeing a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a white flashing sign, stating simply 'OPEN', he decided to stop for a cup of coffee. He had been up since dawn and the long day was catching up with him.
A bell jingled merrily as Sam opened the door. A slightly balding man gave him a warm smile. "Happy Holidays!" he called out, "Night isn't fit for man nor beast ehh? What can I get you?"
"Coffee, black. Thanks, Joe," noting the man's name tag.
"Coming right up, Merry just made a fresh pot."
Taking in his surroundings, Sam turned around, perusing the tiny restaurant. The fact that it was Christmas and it was raining, he pondered on what he saw. Kids. Most of them older, around 16; a few which appeared to be 5 or 6. The younger ones seeming to be under the watchful eye of an older child, but a child none-the-less.
"Excuse me," he looked at Joe who was pulling coffee cups from the dishwasher, "I'm looking around and all I'm seeing is kids."
Merry joined her husband, passed Sam his coffee, and their story unfolded. "Happens every Christmas," Joe said, "not sure where they come from. They say they can't stay where they are, so they wander the streets. It's pathetic if you ask me. Now, who in the hell throws out a kid at Christmas, huh? Anyway, started some years ago; guy comes in, prepays for a bunch of meals, gives me a stack of cards to pass out, giving the kids directions to a church down the road aways. From what I hear the church gives them a place to sleep, breakfast in the morning. Word gets around."
Merry chimed in to the conversation. "This year seems to be more kids than last; maybe it's the rain. We have three kids of our own, all grown now, living in upstate New York. They usually help us out but they got snowed in, couldn't make the trip. So these are our kids in a sense. But these kids, these kids" she spoke sadly, "they're street smart and road weary the lot of 'em. Even the little ones; 9 years old and already talking smack. But the look in their eyes, it's all a front. They've seen it all, and it ain't pretty. They sit in the booths like they're hiding from the world; act like they're half starved. Most kids are picky eaters, take a few bites and leave the rest, such a waste; but not this bunch. They'll eat anything you put in front of them. And when they leave, every plate is spotless. You watch, they'll take half their food, wrap it up, and take it with them. They hide it on their person like someone's going to take it away from them. We give them extra large portions!" She and her husband smiled at that shared secret.
Joe continued, "Had to call an ambulance a time or two; kids come in, beat up bad."
Sam frowned and swiveled around in his chair, catching the eye of a young man sitting in a booth just across from where he was sitting.
"Hey, can I ask you something? What're you doing out on a night like this?"
"I didn't do nothing."
"Didn't say you did" Sam said calmly, "I'm just asking what you're doing out on a night like this, nothing more."
The kid shrugged, "I was hungry; word has it there was this place, ya know."
"Hungry huh?"
The boy nodded.
"Folks not around?"
"Doing time. They should be out in a few months."
"Huh, I bet you miss them?"
The boy gave a half-hearted smile and shrugged.
"Who takes care of you?"
"Foster parents."
"Foster parents? Why aren't you there now?"
The boy stared at his plate of half eaten food and gave a weak laugh. "They don't want me around. You wouldn't understand."
"You're right, I don't understand, enlighten me."
"It's the holidays."
"And …?"
"We're in the way."
"In the way! How?"
"Their plans. The group home tries to get rid of as many of us as they can so they don't have to babysit us. The placements don't appreciate us interrupting their plans."
"So they have 'plans', you show up, they can't do what they want, and here you are?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"So why are you out on a night like this?"
Suddenly the room turned quiet as the kids realized this man was willing to listen to their stories. The hardened ones holding back silently as they realized nothing could be done to help their plight.
The boy dropped his eyes; afraid he had said too much.
"I'll tell you mister," chimed in a red-haired kid from the next booth. He appeared to be about 16 or 17. He had a young boy with him, appearing no older than 5 or 6; eyes begging for a life he could only dream about. "You stay in your room, get locked in the basement, or put out.
"Put out?" Sam questioned.
"On the streets. I guess they figure you have friends to stay with. Anyways, the streets is the best."
Sam couldn't figure out how living on the streets would be better than having a roof over your head, especially on a night like this. "Why the streets?"
"You can usually scam a meal out of a church or charity group. Though if it's too late, you have the dumpsters and such, lot of people out celebrating. Pickin's are good."
"And where do you sleep?"
"If it's not too cold you can find a place to sleep on the beach, drain pipes, there's lot's of places to duck into for the night. But tonight it's pretty cold, so you need a warm place. The rain isn't helping much."
"And the room or basement?"
His face went dark and his voice dropped. "The room or the basement gets you a box of stale cookies from the dollar store if you're lucky."
Another kid about the same age continued the story. "Then the party starts. Everyone having a good time, kids hyped up on candy, cookies, and soda, everyone is laughing and having a good time. Then they open presents; everyone is ooh'ing and ahh'ing. Yeah, good times" the boy said sarcastically.
"And you're not included in any of this?" Sam stated matter of factly, a deepening concern filled him of what was to come.
"Hell no! You're dropped off on Christmas Eve or a few days before, 'Congratulations, you're the proud parents of a juvenile delinquent,' that's what everyone thinks we are." A murmur of agreement circulated throughout the room. "Anyway, we're there on their door step and now they have to do something with us. Merry fucking Christmas."
"But still you have a room. Beats a night like this right?"
"Yeah, a room …" the red-haired kid resumed the story. The kid bit his lower lip and looked to the ceiling, trying to squash a memory which threatened to rise to the surface … "and after the presents are opened, the booze really starts flowin'". The boy looked close to tears as his story continued "and while everyone is half shit-face and laughing like hyena's, here comes Uncle Fred, or George from down the street. They really love kids, if you know what I mean. They stagger in your room and …" Suddenly whatever memory he was reliving overwhelmed him and he looked over to the boy across from him. The small child was wide-eyed, his innocence not understanding the story line. Avoiding Sam's stare, the red-haired boy took the younger child by the hand "Look, we have to go, got stuff to do. Come on George, we need to get you to bed." George trusting his charge, nodded his head.
Sam wanted to offer the boys a ride to wherever they were going, but the sullen look on the older boy's face negated that gesture. Sam wanted to say something meaningful to lighten the mood, but the words wouldn't come. He said simply, "Hey! Be safe out there", his words sounding shallow.
The red-haired boy looked at a card, held protectively in his hand, his younger tow glued to his side. Sam almost lost it as George asked the older boy if Santa knew where they would be staying. He glanced at the booth where the boys had been sitting and sure enough, both plates were completely clean.
Suddenly the room exploded with voices which begged to be heard; those voices molding into a symphony of horrors. "Hey mister, my foster kicked me out as soon as social services pulled out of the driveway; said he was just leaving to go to his friends and didn't have time to deal with the likes of me." "Mister, my placement gave me something, it made me tired, and I slept through Christmas." "Hey mister, I took a cookie off the table, ended up in the hospital for 2 weeks on that one …" The ugly stories went on and on until each child had their say. Slowly the tiny restaurant cleared out, the children clearly tired from their evening's fight for survival.
Sam was emotionally spent. He stared at Joe and Merry who held the same look of shock and alarm. He opened his wallet and started to pay for the coffee.
"On the house" said Joe sullenly. But Sam continued and silently pulled all the bills he had and tossed them onto the counter. "Take it …" was all he could say. Joe gave him an understanding nod stating softly, "I'll add it to the pot for next year. Thanks."
Just then the bell above the door jingled gloomily and a tall lanky boy came through the door. "I don't have any money … ?"
"Come on in son" said Joe, turning on his warming smile, "What can I get you? And don't worry, it's covered."
Sam, got up and slowly walked to the door. He readied his hand onto the door knob and then turned to the boy. "Where did you hear this from?"
The boy turned, "Man on the beach, down by the taco stand; said I could get some food here. They could find me a place to sleep."
"Thanks" Sam sighed, "and for what it's worth, Merry Christmas." He tried to muster a smile but his dower mood couldn't bring it to fruition.
The boy blankly stared at him before his attention turned to Merry who appeared with a steaming hot cup of cocoa.
Just as he was about to step outside the door, Joe called to him. "Hey buddy, you know this guy? The guy who pays for all this."
Sam gazed into the rain-filled night and nodded his head, "No. I don't know him at all", and with that he closed the door, the bell chiming softly behind the now closed door.
The rain was falling harder now, and the wind had picked up. Sam pulled his coat tightly around himself and walked down the beach towards the taco stand. He spied his partner sitting on the back of a bench; his coat drenched. No longer was it a shield against the cold rain.
Sam slowly walked towards Callen, trying to second guess his partner's mood before approaching him.
Callen stared at the ocean, the angry waves crashing onto the beach in shades of gray. "You know if you'd quit wearing those leather jackets you could sneak up on people better."
"Yeah, and what would you know about high fashion?"
"Don't know much about high fashion but I DO know you'd be dead right now if you had been a bad guy."
"Very funny G. Now what are you doing out here? It's cold and rainy; let's go home."
'I AM home' Callen thought. "Sorry Sam, not much on crowds."
"Everyone's gone G, it'll be just you and me."
Callen, transfixed by the ocean waves continued his stare.
"Look, we'll have a drink, warm up, and watch the fire burn down in the fireplace. You can spend the night in the guest bedroom or, if you want, you can leave and sit in that flea bitten motel room you call home."
"It doesn't have fleas!"
G!
"Though I did see a roach dragging a half-eaten french fry across the floor."
Sam sighed heavily; frustration setting in once again with his partner. "Will you stop for a minute. Just stop! Quit jokin' around man … You come to my party and take off in a panic. Now here you sit, freezing your ass off. Alone. On a beach. Who knows who's out wandering about this time of night."
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself Sam."
"There you go again! We've worked together for three years now and I find out you feed a bunch of kids, give them directions to a place to bed down."
"Hearsay …"
"G" Sam stopped for a moment, exasperation taking over his thoughts "Talking to those kids in there, their stories … tell me you …"
"Tell you what? What do you want from me Sam?" Callen interrupted.
"The truth."
"What 'truth'?"
"The truth that you didn't live the horror stories I just heard from those kids in there!"
"Stop it Sam, please!" Callen interrupted; his voice taking on a tension which he could not control. "Don't write my story through these kids eyes. I don't even know what Christmas is about. It's just another day, a day I'd rather not think about or celebrate. Look, I just don't get the whole thing." Callen continued to stare at the ocean, wishing this whole conversation would just go away. He knew his partner was seeking information about his past, but he couldn't allow those memories to surface. "Look", his voice cracked, "I know you want your 'happily ever after' ending here, but I can't give you that. We come from different worlds Sam …" he paused a moment pressing his eyes shut to prevent a memory from escaping, "I'm fine," his stare returned to the tumultuous ocean once again and sighed softly, "but I do think you need to leave. Go home. Kiss your wife and kids. Do family stuff."
Callen glanced at his partner, his eyes pleading for release.
"G?"
Callen hopped off the water soaked bench and sprinted into the gloom. "You can't save the world Sam, no matter how hard you try" he called to his partner, "I'll see you next week."
Sam realized there was no catching his friend; Callen's demons running too deep. He stood in the deluge as the darkness enveloped his friend, just long enough to witness him giving a kid directions to a restaurant whose sign was shining through the bleakness of the night.
The beacon of an 'OPEN' sign, a small restaurant owned by Joe and Merry, and the salvation of a few unwanted kids.