Chapter 2
Nate was waiting when Sam returned to Ops. He took one look at Sam's scowling face, and put his hands up in mock surrender. "This was not my idea, Sam. Blame it all on Callen. I do agree that we should talk, though. You've been through a big change–"
"Yeah. I have. And I'm handling it. I don't need a shrink." Sam ran a hand over his clean shaven dome. "This was Hetty's idea wasn't it. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna pick up that little lawn gnome and…"
Nate wasn't about to let anyone speak ill of the director of operations here in LA, particularly with her eerie habit of appearing at the least opportune moments. He turned and headed for a room where he knew they'd have some privacy, Sam following close behind. "That's not fair, Sam. You know as well as I do, Hetty only wants what's best for you. Whatever's going to get you back to your old self as quickly and smoothly as possible. Now, we both know there's no way around this conversation, since she's not about to let you even try to go out on a mission unless you talk to me. So the only question is, where do you want to begin?"
"I don't." Sam ran into the door, using the front of his wheelchair to push it open so hard it banged against the wall. Nate caught the door on the rebound before it could hit him in the face. "But since there's no other choice, let's begin at the beginning. "
Nate looked at Sam curiously. "Sounds good to me. I've been left out of the loop regarding how you ended up in that chair. Care to enlighten me?" Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and waited calmly for Sam to start spilling his guts. Sam closed his eyes, took himself back months in time, and started talking.