Contrary to what Nell had told Sam and Callen, the people in the Ops Center had an excellent view of what was transpiring on the apartment's fire-escape. The Ops team watched from the safety of their tech cave, as Callen stepped out onto the landing and looked downward. Hetty, who knew her agents inside and out, was able to discern by his body movement, the moment Callen discovered he knew the agent being held at gun point. She also knew the fact that she had withheld that information from him was not going to sit well with her senior agent.
Callen quickly recovered from the shock of seeing the victim and focused on how to save her. Since she was a trained agent, Callen knew she could work with him to help salvage this volatile situation. However, it nagged at the back of his mind, that when she had looked up and recognized him, an odd expression had flitted across her face. He didn't know what to make of it, but he was willing to bet it was important, though he had no clue why. It had almost seemed like she was afraid for him for some reason, though he rationalized that was reading a lot into a little glance. He didn't have time for paranoid thoughts, so he pushed it out of his mind; the only thing that mattered was extracting her safely from this situation.
As not to give away Callen's position any more than she already had, the victim quickly refocused her eyes away from the agent on the landing above her and back on the person holding the gun to her head. The bullet wound the shooter had already inflicted in her arm was throbbing but she didn't dare move, unsure what would trigger the shooter to fire again. In her mind, there had been no rhyme or reason to the first shot, as she had been fully cooperating with the shooter.
Callen studied the shooter from his position and was convinced that the person holding the gun was another woman, not that it really mattered. With the gun that close to the victim's head; any shot would be lethal whether the person holding the gun was a male or a female. Couple that with the fact the shooter had already pulled the trigger once and you had an unstable, unpredictable, bad situation.
Callen's plan was to lean over the fire-escape and kill the shooter with a bullet shot to the head. He was confident he could make the shot and if he warned female agent as he pulled the trigger, she could move out of the way in case the shooter squeezed the trigger before his bullet took her out. Ideally, Sam should rush the door at the same time Callen took the shot, adding a further distraction. The blond agent only hesitated a fraction of a second before pulling out his phone and calling Sam.
"I'm in position," he whispered into the phone. "After I hang up, count to five and rush the door."
Sam knew his partner as well as Hetty did and in some respects even more, and he didn't like what he heard in Callen's voice. There was an underlying hint of tension and nervousness in his partner's tone that didn't make sense to Sam. When Callen was in the moment, he was totally focused and professional; something had his partner unusually rattled. However, this wasn't the time or place for a prolonged conversation so Sam simply asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Shoot the bastard. Go on five," Callen growled, then disconnected the phone, shoved it in his back pocket, placed both hands on his gun and took aim. He counted, in hopefully the same cadence as Sam, and when he got to five he yelled, "Michelle duck!" and squeezed off two deadly shoots.
Simultaneously, Sam broke down the door and sprinted across the apartment to the window in time to see the shooter crumble to the metal deck as his wife threw herself sideways against the fire escape staircase.
"Michelle!" a surprised Sam screamed as he burst thru the open window. As much as he wanted to run to his wife's side, his training remained first and foremost in his mind and he cleared the gun from the vicinity of the downed shooter and ensured the area was secure.
Sam couldn't see the shooter's face because she had landed face down on the fire escape, but he had no doubts she was dead; the head wound, which was visible, was not survivable. Sam shot a quick glance up at his partner and shook his head 'no' so Callen would know he was successful, not that his partner probably had any doubts. After he did that, he rushed to Michelle's side and helped gently lower her to the second metal step of the fire-escape stairs. Whipping out his cell phone, he dialed Eric and told him to send an ambulance ASAP. Eric, who had been watching at Ops, had already dispatched one when the first shot had been fired. Sam hung up and focused back on his beautiful wife. He saw the growing bloodstain on the upper portion of her left arm. "How bad?"
Michelle, like her husband, was a highly trained agent and not given to hysterics. She approached her injury in a calm and rationale manner. "Not bad. It hurts, but I think it missed the bone."
Sam couldn't stop himself; he reached over, gathered her in his arms and gave her a careful hug. Michelle leaned her weary head against his powerful shoulder for a few seconds, releasing some of her tension before letting out a sigh and pushing away. What was coming next was going to be hard; not as much for her and Sam, as the man two floors up on the fire-escape. Given everything she knew about her husband's partner, having been around him in good times and bad over the last six years, she knew he was going to be devastated, even though he would never show it to the outside world. Life, once again, had just dealt Callen a horrible hand.
After Callen took the shot and Sam let him know he was successful, he started making his way down the fire-escape and arrived on the landing as Michelle was extracting her body from Sam's embrace. Callen was getting ready to scoot around her to go see who the dead shooter was, when she stuck out her good arm and blocked his way. "No Callen," she said softly yet firmly.
He stopped, respecting her barrier, but his face showed his confusion on why she was impeding his way. Her eyes locked on his and he saw sorrow and pity, two emotions he hated directed towards him. A nauseous feeling started to grow in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard.
"Let Sam," Michelle instructed Callen.
Sam didn't understand why his wife was doing it, but he understood that she wanted him, not Callen, to id the body first. With trepidation that could easily be seen in his normally fluid frame, the tall man walked over and flipped the body just enough so he could see the face. He couldn't stop a small shudder from running thru his muscular frame and Callen immediately picked up on it. "Who is it, Sam?" he demanded hating to be kept in the dark. Callen was a rip-the-Band-Aid off quickly guy; he didn't like bad things to be dragged out.
Letting the body roll back so the face was no longer visible, Sam straightened up and turned to face Callen. After years of being partners, Callen was adept at reading Sam's facial expressions and he knew he was not going to like what came next. "Who is it, Sam?" he demanded again, his body tense, his voice strained.
Nodding at his wife, Michelle dropped her arm to let Callen pass. The shorter man calmly walked within a few inches of Sam and stared at the big guy who was still visibly shocked by identity of the assailant.
Sam had an internal debate going on whether to tell him, or let Callen see for himself. Sam knew even if he told Callen who it was, the blond man would still have to confirm it for his own sanity, so Sam stepped aside and let Callen pass by to reach the body.
Moving over to the dead shooter, Callen studied the body before he gradually crouched down. It was indeed a woman, about 5' 7" he'd guess and the few tendrils of hair that escaped the hoodie were light brown.
Sam moved over to hold Michelle's good hand as Callen reached out to roll over the body. There was nothing he could do to ease the moment for his friend; he could only be available for the fallout this reveal was going to trigger. Michelle glanced tenderly at her kind-hearted husband who was already grieving for the hurt and shock his best friend was about to receive.
The vibe on the landing was so oppressive that Callen's hand actually trembled slightly as he touched the corpse's shoulder and gently applied enough force to roll the body on to its' back. When he saw who the shooter was, Callen who rarely let his emotions be seen in public, gasped and his face twisted into a mask of agony. He blindly reached out a hand and grabbed the metal railing surrounding the landing to steady his shaking body but his eyes never left the face of the dead woman; he was mesmerized with disbelief.
Sam let go of his wife's hand and moved to his devastated partner's side, placing a sympathetic hand on Callen's shoulder. Callen didn't even acknowledge Sam's presence; he simply continued to stare at the dead woman's face. After a minute, Callen reached out a tentative hand and ran his fingers across the corpse's face in a tender fashion.
Michelle, sitting on the stairs, bit her lower lip as she felt tears well up in her chocolate brown eyes. Even though she knew this woman had held her captive at gunpoint and gave all intentions that she planned to harm her, Michelle's heart ached that Callen, whose soul was damaged already, had to be the one to kill her. She knew life wasn't fair, but this seemed down right cruel.
Callen stood up stumbling heavily against Sam as he rose. Sam steadied the man, though Callen abruptly shook free and headed for the open window where he rapidly climbed though the frame disappearing inside. Michelle motioned for Sam to go after him, but as the big guy started to follow his distraught partner, the EMTs blocked his way as they cleared the remaining shards of glass from the window before coming through with all their gear.
By the time everything was straightened out on the fire-escape, it was too late to go after Callen. Sam heard the Challenger roar to life and he peered over the railing just in time to see Callen pulling away in the car. A quick pat down of his pockets showed his partner had picked his pocket for the keys to the car. Knowing there was nothing more he could do at the moment, he focused his attention back on his injured wife and love of his life.
Back in Ops, Hetty gave the instructions to the tech team to shut down the live feed. As the screens went dark, Hetty walked out of the room in measured steps and it was painfully obvious her heart was heavy.
Eric glanced over at Nell after Hetty left and knew she was upset because she fluttered about Ops doing busy work. He wasn't stupid and knew Hetty was deeply disturbed and so was Nell; the only thing he didn't know was why. It seemed the women must have recognized the shooter even if he, Eric, had no clue. Awkwardly clearing his throat he asked with trepidation, "I know that was Sam's wife Michelle. Did you know the other woman?"
With exaggerated care, Nell placed the tablet she had been holding, on the desk, then quietly answered Eric's question. Eric had never been trained to hide his emotions and his shock was clearly written all over his face when he processed what Nell told him. "You mean that was..."
Nell cut him off with a curt nod, not wanting to hear the name repeated aloud again. Once was more than enough.