Author's Note: So… this story is taking a little more setup than originally anticipated, but hopefully it's not too boring/part of the fun?

Exposed

Part 1: The Dress

Chapter 3: In which Callen attempts to give Nell 'The Talk'

"So, who's going to give her 'The Talk'? Deeks asked, giving voice to what they were all thinking. "Kensi, I'm looking at you. Girl-to-girl sort of discussion, isn't it?"

"I don't do 'girl talk'. I just... I don't," Kensi said.

"Well, me neither," Deeks said. Kensi rolled her eyes. How often had she complained to the others, both behind Deeks' back and directly in front of him that her partner always wanted to have heart-to-hearts on stakeouts.

"Nell's a grown-ass woman," Sam said. "No one has to give her 'The Talk.'"

Callen looked at his partner. Again, the big man had given voice to Callen's own thoughts. And just like Callen, he could see Sam didn't quite believe the assertion, either.

"And even if someone did need to say something to her before she left for that Richie Rich wedding," Sam said. "It wouldn't be me. I'm only giving that sort of talk once in my life, and I'm saving it for my daughter."

Almost entirely synchronized, the agents turned to their computer tech. The blonde, bespectacled surfer dude-looking young man was closest with the female analyst. Unfortunately, he was still standing there staring after where Nell had disappeared, his mouth slightly ajar. Apparently, the reboot operation hadn't taken to his brain yet.

Given that Nell had walked towards the staff lockers rather than directly to the parking lot, Callen estimated that they had a few minutes before such concerns they all held would be forced to go unvoiced. However, they'd been bickering too much. And someone would have to take action soon. Because if on the off chance, something did happen to Nell and they hadn't even given her a 'be careful' let alone 'The Talk', none of them would ever forgive themselves.

"I'll do it," Callen said. He edged around a pile of papers on the floor that had avalanched off the side of Deeks' desk, but was stopped by Kensi before he got farther than her slightly more tidy work space. She had been rummaging through a desk drawer and had produced a fairly impressive array of kit on top of the coffee-ringed sheaves covering her desk. A taser sat beside what looked like a fountain pen but Callen knew to contain a stiletto blade, and a perfume bottle. He furrowed his brow at the novelty of the last item.

"Give these to Nell," Kensi said. "Make sure she takes them with her."

"Um... Kens..." Deeks said. "Where precisely is she supposed to store that arsenal. She was carrying a clutch, wasn't she?"

They all looked at Deeks.

"What?" he said. "So I know purses? I sold knock-off Prada on the street as a cover once."

Kensi's hand hovered over the items as she chewed her lip contemplatively. She settled on the perfume bottle.

"So in case of emergency, Nell can smell like 'Naomi Campbell Cat Deluxe With Kisses'?" Deek asked. Kensi glared at his sarcasm.

"Try Eau de Self Defense," Sam said.

Callen smirked. "Mace?" he asked.

"Pepper Spray," Kensi said.

Deeks flinched.

"Watch her," Kensi said. "Make sure she puts it in her..." she looked pointedly at her partner, who still seemed to be reliving a very unpleasant encounter with something similar to the contents of the faux perfume bottle. "...clutch."

Callen nodded and walked briskly off to find Nell. She was probably already out of the building. Maybe she was gone. Part of him hoped she would be, and not just because he'd been the one elected to give 'The Talk'. They were overreacting. Most assuredly. It was just difficult for them to think of Nell being somewhere unprotected and vulnerable to the world at large when they were used to finding her safe and sound, holed up with Eric, watching their virtual sixes. She was one of their team in a type of life that made them all think of the world as 'us' and 'them'. Nell was one of 'us'. And Callen had a particularly uneasy feeling about the 'them' with whom she was about to cavort.

There. Auburn hair. Backless dress. Killer heels. Little Nell All Grown Up.

He caught her up, startling her slightly at his appearance.

"May I walk you out?" Callen asked, taking her arm and urging her forward before the confusion wore off enough for her to object.

He waited until they'd cleared the building and stepped out into the bright California sunshine before he spoke. Well, before he tried to speak, anyway. It was a difficult conversation to begin. Had he been in a persona, it would've been easier. The problem was that Agent Callen, Team Leader Callen, Concerned For A Team Member Callen was no act.

"Kensi wanted you to have this," he said, pulling the 'perfume' bottle from his pocket.

The look on Nell's face was as clear as the blue sky above their heads. Kensi wanted her to have a bottle of perfume? Kensi Blye? Badass, tough as nails, superagent Kensi Blye? That/ Kensi?

Callen smiled.

"It's Pepper Spray," he said.

"If it's all the same..." Nell dubiously examined the small disguised weapon but did not move to take it from his hand. "I think I'll pass."

Callen took her hand (so small and delicate, he'd never really realized) and placed the 'perfume' in her palm, wrapping her fingers around the bottle.

"She was insistent," he said.

Nell gave him a bemused look but took the little can of pepper spray and gingerly placed it into the small white purse she had tucked under her arm.

"I don't see why she made you track me down this minute to give it to me," Nell said. Her big eyes searched his face, requesting some sort of explanation for the odd behavior. This was it. No more delaying.

Callen looked away, swiped a hand over his face and turned back to Nell. He took her elbow again and urged her to start walking towards her car.

"We care about you, Nell. You're part of our team. We... just don't want to see you get hurt."

She stopped short and turned towards him, chin stuck out defiantly, and a flare of obstinance in her eyes.

"I'm just going to a friend's wedding," she said. "You know, a wed-ding. A happy occasion, a gathering of friends and family in celebration of the love two people have for one another. The way you're acting, you'd think I was shipping out to Iraq!"

Callen didn't respond to her antagonistic, defensive attack. She had every right to be annoyed by their meddling. But there was this nagging feeling of unease he had whenever he thought of her lost amongst the ungracious, often caustic and cruel wealthy. Instead he reigned in his disgust as he thought of some particularly nasty characters he'd encountered within the set she was about to join for a supposed 'fun' time.

"Nell." He spoke softly, respectfully. "We're sure your friend and her family are wonderful people. They'd have to be to earn your love."

The young woman blushed. It was rather adorable, making her look even more girlish despite the cut of that damned dress. If the 'cute' factor was a defense mechanism designed to engender protectiveness in others, Nell was absolutely the fittest for survival. Because Callen only wanted to protect her all the more for the inadvertent show of innocence and vulnerability she displayed over the compliment he'd given her.

Focus, G.

"I'm assuming that this is going to be quite the affair?" he asked.

Nell nodded.

"And you won't know even half the guests."

Not a question, but Nell nodded 'yes' again.

How to put this without giving offense or sounding like a paranoid father sending his daughter off on prom night.

"The wealthy are just like everybody else," he said. Nell gave him a 'why are you wasting my time, I already know this' look but patiently said nothing, waiting for him to get whatever it was off his chest already.

"Some are good people," Callen said. "And some… aren't."

Nell looked as if she were about to cross her arms and tap her toe like a teenage girl receiving the 'don't do drugs' lecture she'd only heard about a hundred times already. She also seemed somewhat amused about who was giving her such a lecture. Callen pinned her with a serious gaze and the small smirk left her lips.

"And Nell, when they're bad, they're so much worse than the lowest thug on the street. Because they know their money can buy them out of any mess."

"Not everyone can be bought," Nell protested, her earnest, trusting gaze locking with his. He fought the urge to smile, to be distracted from his point. It was heartening to have someone like Nell believe your team of government agents were as incorruptible as the shining silver star of a sheriff's badge in a classic Western. But it also showed just how naive she could be.

"No, but the bad guys only need to think they're above the law, that they can't be touched," Callen said.

"Callen," Nell said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I know. I'm a big girl. And I can handle myself."

Callen nodded, wondering whether she really did understand his point, hoping he'd gotten around actually giving her 'The Talk' that they reserved for female agents going out into the field, the ones who'd been trained and taught but never really told what to expect. Nell was the product of a post-feminist world, one in which equality was the norm. Even knowing the attitude of some of these rich malfeasants, was she truly aware of how much more wary she needed to be? That, however disgustingly unjust it was, she was by default more of a target simply for being a woman? Not to mention those big, innocent eyes and overall vulnerable impression of her physical presence. And,

"Nell, that dress..." he said.

"...has no back," Nell finished, her big eyes no longer looking so innocent, but wistfully sage. The jaded edge to her expression tore at his heart a little. The quirky intelligence analyst had always been a bright spot, a small ray of unblemished light. And god knew the dearth of such purity in his life. He would've liked to have held onto the ideal, even knowing it could never be as simple as he had led himself to believe. Because Nell was a person, not just some pretty scenery along the road for him to stop a moment and admire from a distance, to forget the trials of his journey and dream of the peace there. And just because she looked so young and innocent did not mean she was so naive and defenseless.

Callen walked her the rest of the way to her car, opening the driver's door of the mini cooper for the female analyst. Somewhere along the way, despite being tossed from home to home, he'd learned manners. And Nell was most certainly dressed like a lady. Even more compelling to his gentlemanly training, she was a lady.

She got into the little car that was so very Nell it still made Callen smile. Cute and sporty; green with white racing stripes.

"Thank you," she said, and he wasn't sure whether she meant to show gratitude for his gentlemanly gesture of opening the car door, escorting her out of the building, or the attempt to express the entire team's concern for her.

"Have a good time, Nell," he said, closing the door. "You deserve the break."

He kept the smile on his face as he watched her pull out of the parking space and drive away, all the while still feeling the nagging unease in his gut. Why had he overreacted so badly to her dressing up and attending a wedding? More telling, why had everyone else? Logic would conclude they were ridiculous, that there was no basis for their concern. But he had learned to listen to instinct over the years. So as he headed back into the building to face more unending paper work, Callen scoured his mind for some explanation as to his gut reaction.

He found none. Yet the feeling of unease did not go away.

A/N: Why is everyone so worried about Nell going to this wedding?!