Nate Getz stared at the woman sitting on the ground, breaking inside. He wanted to help her so much, but she wouldn't open up to him. All his questions fell on deaf ears; she never once answered his questions.

He remembered, in one of her early sessions with him, she had said she wanted to destroy something. So he let her. He sat back and watched as she picked up chairs and threw them at the walls; as she pushed over the table and destroyed the legs.

Hetty had yelled at him, but it was the first step to healing her.

Now, every time they had sessions, she sat on the floor, leaning on the wall, with never-ending tears rolling down her cheeks. He asked if she wanted a tissue.

She didn't respond.

Sighing, he stood up and walked out of the interrigation room he was using for the sessions. Outside, where there were screens set up to watch witnesses, G Callen and Sam Hanna were watching. Normally, for anyone else, he would chew them out for watching. But he understood that they were worried for her.

They all were.

She first started needing help when, one day, she came in for work. She looked perfectly normal, except there was no bubbly smile set upon her face. Instead, there was a frown, a small one. She had slight bags under her eyes, noting that she might not be sleeping well.

But what really told them was when Callen walked up to her, patted her arm and told her good morning. Now, he hadn't been trying to scare her, he just happened to come from behind her. But, nonetheless, when he talked to her, she screamed and slapped him across the face.

There was silence throughout the whole building. Callen had wide eyes and his cheek was going red from where her hand connected with her face. Nate, Kensi, Deeks, Eric, Sam and Hetty all stared at her in surprise and shock; she would have never done that to Callen.

Of course, she apologized quickly, touching his face to make sure he was okay. He assured her he was, but then asked why she was so jumpy.

She ran away.

Callen chased her to the women's restrooms and stopped at the door when he couldn't open it. She must have been blocking it somehow. He called for her. She told him to go away. He said he wouldn't leave her alone, for the rest of the day if he had to.

And he did.

She came out at midnight, when the building was abandoned except for her team. They were all worried for her. She joined Callen where he was sitting on the floor. When anyone else would come near them, she would throw something from her backpack at them. Callen was able to lessen her power, but it still hurt them emotionally.

Hetty had suspended her for two days, but it was recorded as vacation time. Callen stayed with her at her apartment, under Hetty's orders, to help. But she wouldn't even talk to him.

~xXx_xXx_xXx~

"Every night, I dream that those who I've killed come back to murder me."

Nate looked up from his papers. She had spoken!

"Victims, suspects. Sometimes those who I haven't killed, but have died in my life."

Nate frowned. Nightmares like this are common among people in law enforcement, especially if they work with murders and homicide. But this was normally curable. And they never bothered one to the point of breaking down or slapping a co-worker.

"I slapped Callen because..." she began, hesitating.

"You can tell me, Faye." he assured her, "If you're worried about me being a psychologist, then think of me as your friend worried about your well-being."

She sighed and continued, "Do you remember the case of the murdered teenager? The one who looked like he died of a drug-overdose, but was strangled as well?" He nodded. He remembered that one quite well, "Well, do you remember that I had to shoot the drug dealer who killed the boy? He was on top of me, trying to strangle me as well. But I managed to grab my gun and shoot his heart. He fell on top of me.

"About three days after, I started having the dreams. This one was about the drug dealer. And they continued for about a week and a half.

"I would be standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse alone. I'd look around, my hand trailing towards my gun. And he would always surprise me, even after the tenth dream. He'd...come up behind me, whisper good morning into my ear and wrap his hands tightly around my neck. And I'd feel as if I was suffocating, like my dream was real life and he really was strangling me. As soon as I was about to die, I would wake up and it would be morning, an hour or two before I was supposed to wake up." She finished, looking like some of the weight on her shoulders had been lifted.

He could tell she didn't go into detail, for him, and he was somewhat glad.

"How many of these dreams have you had?"

"One for every person I had to kill. One for everyone in my life who has died in an unnatural way. And one for every one of the team."

"That's...a lot." he admitted, "Why didn't you ever come to me?"

Again, she hesitated, "...because I felt this was my burden to bear. I don't want to trouble anyone else with them, because they're my troubles and mine alone."

"Oh, Faye..." Nate stood up and walked over to where she was huddled and sat next to her, wrapping her into a hug, "You can always, always tell me these things. Whether we like it or not, psychologists are here to help. I like helping people with their problems and that includes you. Because if you keep this to yourself, you're going to break inside. And we don't want to see our little fairy do that."

She chuckled lightly at his comment.

"I want you to promise that when you have a new nightmare that you'll come straight to me and tell me about it." he said, "And I want you to get a notebook and write down all of your dreams, if you can remember, and hand them to me. One everyday. Think of it as homework, okay?"

She nodded slowly, the tears stopping. She returned his hug tightly.

"Thank you."