Flashback

"Yo, Eric, I need you to run the plates on that SUV," Sam called over the comms.
"On it!" Eric Beale replied.
"I need a full search for Anne Stephens," Kensi called from the other side of LA.
"Got it," Nell replied from the next chair.

Eric's fingers flew over the keys in perfect rhythm with his petite partners'. He had gotten to the point that he subconsciously matched her typing speed because he knew that the otherwise mismatched clacks could drive her up the walls. Which was why it took him a split second to realize that he had quit hearing keystrokes, and another one to realize it was because she wasn't typing. Eric glanced over at Nell, the heavy feeling in his stomach growing as he realized that she wasn't moving at all, except for quick, shallow breaths. Her fingers were frozen, gripping the ends of the armrests on her chair; her expression was one that Eric had never seen before, yet it seemed strangely familiar.
"Eric," Callen called.
The memory clicked. Eric had seen the expression once before, on Callen, as the special agent lay in a hospital bed, flashing back to the shooting that nearly claimed his life. Eric switched to private comms between him, Nell, and Callen.
"Callen. Whadaya do for flashbacks?" Eric asked tensely.
"Focus on something else," came the concerned reply. "Something in the room, someone in the room. A list you memorized. Override the flashback by gradually dragging your brain onto something else."
"Nell," Eric turned to his partner. "Talk to me. What's the Fibinacci sequence?"
Nell crumpled her face, as if concentrating. "I...can't..."
"Pi to 100 digits?"
Silence.
"Backwards from 1 million by 333s?"
"Eric..."
"Phonetic alphabet? C'mon, Nell, you can do it..."
"Alpha..." Nell's voice sounded oddly distorted.
"Nell, it's not real," Callen said softly. "You're in Ops."
"Beta..."
Eric cocked an eyebrow.
"Greek alphabet," Callen whispered.
"Gamma...delta..."
"That's Greek, Nell," Callen corrected. "Bravo."
"Charlie...delta...echo...foxtrot..."
Nell's voice started to sound a little less strained.
"golf...hotel...India..."
Eric could see her starting to relax a little.
"Juliet...kilo...Lima...Mike, November,"
Nell's breathing started to slow down.
"Oscar, papa, Qubec, Romeo, Sierra, tango, uniform, victor,"
Slowly, her hands unclenched from the chair. Eric reached over and started gently rubbing her shoulder.
"Whiskey, xray, Yankee, zulu."
Eric heard Callen let out his breath over the comm as Nell launched into another vaguely-phonetic-sounding recitation that was definately not Englis.
"Russian phonetic," Callen murmered.
Somewhere during Nell's recitation, Hetty entered Ops. By the time Nell finished, she looked normal again, the color back in her cheeks and the sparkle back in her eyes.
"Miss Jones, your knowledge of the Russian phonetic alphabet is impressive," Hetty complemented. Eric offered Nell a sideways smile, which she returned impishly. "Mr. Beale," Hetty inquired, "what do we have?"

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Preview of what is to come:

"It has come to my attention," Hetty announced, "that entirely too much profanity clutters the atmosphere in this workplace. I therefore am instituting a moratorium on swearing. Anyone heard using vulgar or profane language," and Hetty looked each team member in the eye, in turn, "will owe this container, to supplement our wardrobe department, one dollar. Per word."

Callen's face was carefully a undercover-trained blank. Sam's portrayed a hint of a smile. Kensi looked a bit triumphant, probably about the prospect of reigning her sometimes inappropriate partner in a bit. Deeks' mouth hung open a few centimeters. Eric looked a bit shocked, and Nel perhaps a touch surprised but not displeased. Callen realized that the two of them probably had heard every swear word in the book from the rest of the team over the past few years.

"This ban includes all forms of swearing, including abreviations," Deeks snapped his fingers in an "aw, man!" gesture, "and foreign languages." Hetty's gaze lingered particularly on Callen and Nell. "No Russian. Or Spanish, for that matter," and she finally diverted her stare to Kensi. "Yes ma'am," Kensi replied. "All of you," Hetty continued, "are allowed to report each other's failures regarding this rule. And are under my protection while doing so, provided the allegations are true. By the testimony of two wittnesses-or audio tape-will such matters be determined." Hetty strode back towards her desk. "Now, I believe you all have work to do?"