After the last week's episode when Sam was continuously rejecting Callen's ideas about things they had in common, I needed to cheer myself up with a friendship fanfiction story, so I decided to add a new chapter.

Thanks to Elizabeth for betareading and patience.

I don't own any of the recognizeable characters, they all belong to Shane Brennan.


Nate Getz was pacing through the halls of the Office of Special Projects.

''I am an operational psychologist. I am,'' he repeated quietly to himself.

He had been working for the OSP for a month and today was the day of psychological evaluations. He had observed. He had read the files. He had already evaluated some of the agents. Today, however, he had to evaluate the elite team, namely Special Agents: G Callen and Sam Hanna.

Nate had already interviewed Macy, who was his and their boss, so it was interesting, but he managed. He knew that the important people higher up were always more interested in the results of the field agents than in the results of the bosses from offices - because ultimately the success of any mission relied on the field agents. And Miss Lange made sure he knew it. She was here again, waiting for the results.

Nate studied the files. He suspected that Sam's files were redacted but it didn't surprise him much, Sam had been a SEAL after all. He also found out that Sam was an exemplary marine and agent, and on top of this understood the necessity of regular psychological evaluations.

He hoped that the files would tell him something about Callen because during the month that Nate had been working in the OSP he wasn't able to decipher much on his own. The files obviously decided not to comply. The only words left for the readers without top security clearance were almost only conjunctions, pronouns and prepositions.

''Never mind, there are still reports from earlier psychological evaluations,'' Nate tried to cheer himself up, except the reports were very short, it almost looked like the psychologists practiced the art of 100-word-drabble.

Nate maybe couldn't find out much useful information from observing Callen's behavior, but he firmly believed that an actual interview, a face-to-face meeting, had to change it. The personal note one of the psychologist added to Callen's file – the one which said: 'super-cagy' – Nate dismissed as utterly unprofessional.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Another stake-out. Just great. Stuck in the car for several hours. Boring. Again. And not alone. Just great.

Nothing was happening. Sam was in control of the steering wheel – and of the radio apparently too – so Callen decided that his presence wasn't much needed and allowed himself to fall asleep. Sam watched with amusement how his partner was drifting off to sleep.

Half an hour later Callen began to move, he was clenching his fists and was shaking his head so vigorously that Sam feared he might hit the window. Sam contemplated whether it was a good idea to touch Callen in this situation, but he needed to have his attention.

Sam gently placed his hand on Callen's shoulder. ''Callen, wake up. G, do you hear me? Wake up,'' Sam urged him.

Callen's eyes shot open and he was already halfway reaching for his gun.

''Hey, G, relax.''

Callen finally registered Sam's words.

''What's going on, G?'' Sam asked sincerely.

Callen reached for the binoculars with night vision. ''Nothing, the guy is still in there.''

''That's exactly what I asked about.''

Callen tried hard not to fall asleep again, but the stakeout the previous night and all the activity of the day had taken its toll. Sam was tuning the radio when he heard Callen say something.

''I didn't hear you G.''

But Callen didn't repeat his words and Sam - to his surprise – found out that Callen was asleep again.

Sam kept thinking 'Soldat? If I heard it right... what was this?'

That it came again. ''Nu, nu, soldat.''

Sam was seriously worried because none of his partner's words made sense to him. A few minutes later he heard ''nisip'' and something like ''plash''.

Sam decided to wake up Callen again and this time not to let him dodge the questions since Sam thought that the only explanation for his weirder-than-usual behavior was a serious head injury.

Sam placed his hand on Callen's shoulder again and asked: ''G, what is plash?''

Confused, Callen looked at him. ''You don't strike me as a language guy.''

''What?'' Sam panicked, he was definitely right about the head injury.

''Are you learning Romanian? Or Czech, Russian... It doesn't happen very often, but with this word, the pronunciation is the same in these languages, only the spelling varies, plajă, pláž, пляж.''

Sam only repeated: ''What?''

''It means beach. Anyway where did you pick it up?''

''You said it, when you were sleeping.''

This time it was Callen's turn: ''What?''

Suddenly Callen became angry: ''And you were listening!''

''We are in the car, G,'' Sam explained needlessly.

''You also repeated soldat, nu nu soldat, and something like nizip. And you will tell me what's going on because otherwise I'm taking you to the nearest hospital.''

''Hospital. To get me a truth serum?''

''To get you checked for a head injury,'' Sam countered.

''I do not have a head injury or any other. We haven't fought with anyone today.''

''It was Romanian,'' Callen stated quietly.

Sam didn't expect such an abrupt change in the conversation but he couldn't help asking: ''You speak Romanian? And Czech? And Russian?''

''Of course,'' Callen replied, as it was the most normal thing.

''What did it mean, you know … the words?''

Callen sighed. ''Soldier, no no soldier, sand and the beach.''

Callen explained the meaning of the words, but he really didn't want to explain the real meaning 'behind' the words. He actually never knew that he talked aloud while he was sleeping. There was usually no one who would tell him...

Callen saw that his partner still wasn't convinced. ''It was just a dream, Sam. I have it often. It's just me on the beach in the sand and then a man comes to me and gives me a tin soldier.''

Sam was thinking for a while. ''Do you know what does it mean?''

''Mixed childhood memories, possible leads, or a nonsense fantasy... I really don't know,'' Callen answered truthfully and almost sadly.

... ... ... ... ... ...

''I love you,'' Sam whispered and finished the call.

Callen checked his watch. ''You know, it's only 1 am and you've already called Michelle five times!''

''Nobody asked you to count it,'' Sam replied grumpily.

The calling continued – equally frequent – even the next day and during the evening stake-out.

''Are you sure, you're ok, Michelle?'' … ''Fine, just take care, love you.''

Callen sighed. ''She's a big girl. I'm sure she can take care of herself, or at least for the next hour before you call her again.''

Sam's voice was dangerously calm: ''Callen, will you just let me make sure my wife is ok? Is it really too much to ask for?''

''You are freaking her out! I'm not a specialist, but even I can tell that it will be at least two month before you welcome the baby in the world,'' Callen impatiently explained.

''You don't know what you are talking about,'' Sam snapped at him.

''Then tell me. You've been impossible to get along with the whole week. Not me.''

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket again. But instead of calling he touched a few symbols and then watched the screen intently. Callen leaned slightly in his seat so he could see Sam's phone.

''You do realize you have been starring at a completely black screen for more than ten minutes?''

''It's not black. I'm watching the camera from our house. It's the street, here,'' Sam showed Callen.

''Watching your own house on your own phone?''

''Yeah, Eric worked his magic: connected something with something,'' Sam explained.

But Callen wasn't exactly interested in the technical aspects. ''You are spying on your own house? And I thought we agreed that it's me being paranoid.''

''I just spotted a car on Monday, it was odd, I had this feeling...''

''Sam, your wife is a highly trained CIA agent. She can handle a lost tourist or a divorced man sleeping in his car. You don't have to call her twenty times a day.''

''Exactly. My wife is a highly trained CIA agent,'' Sam repeated dimly.

''What do you know about Michelle?'' Sam asked suddenly.

''I wasn't spying on your wife in the suspicious car, I swear.'' Callen's attempt at joke failed so he answered seriously: ''I know she is, or was, a CIA agent. You told me. I had never met her when I worked there. I had never heard of her. I can tell you only the common things, how her training was because I completed the same one, I can tell you the type of her gun because I had the same...''

''I'm sorry, G. I was just...'' Sam tried to apologize and Callen jumped in: ''...being an over-protective big teddy bear.''

''There's a reason, G. We met during a joint operation. We worked together basically 24/7 and … we fell in love. Then it was quick, wedding and so... The case was dangerous. We gathered intel on Isaac Sidorov, a Russian weapons dealer. He is dangerous and he is free. Michelle was undercover. Sidorov is, according to all information, in Russia but I don't want to take any risks. Especially now.''

''I can ask some of my contacts in Russia, to see what Sidorov is doing, planning...'' Callen offered.

''Thanks, G.''

... ... ... ... ... ...

Nate relaxed. So far, so good. Sam's evaluation had been going smoothly.

''Why are you doing this job?''

''I'm serving my country. How can you ask like that? Protecting America, semper fi...'' Sam shook his head in disbelief why he had to explain the most natural thing in the world.

''You were a SEAL. Team is obviously important to you...'' Nate tried to calm Sam down.

''So how's your partnership with Callen?''

''Good. We are getting to know each other... slowly.''

''What do you think of him?''

''He's an incredibly talented undercover agent which makes everything else … umm complicated.''

''Your answers are shorter and shorter,'' Nate encouraged him.

''He's my partner. I trust him,'' Sam added simply.

''What do you think he thinks about you?''

''That I'm an over-protective big teddy bear...'' Then Sam reminded himself that Nate was just doing his job, so he added: ''Nobody can see into his head. But so far he's getting along with me, so that's a good sign... considering our beginning.''

''What does he fear the most, how does he react under pressure?'' another prying question from the standard form.

''Like there wasn't any pressure at all.''

''The question was a little longer,'' Nate again stepped in.

''I know you are doing your job, but I will not discuss it with you. SEALs care about their fellow men and help when something happens, but we most certainly don't discuss it with strangers.''

Sam didn't want to be mean, but the psychologist should have trod more carefully.

In fact, Nate didn't expect an answer. He was only looking for a sign whether Sam knew something or not.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Nate shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Talking to Callen was … umm complicated.

''I don't know if you have had a partner before... What do you think about working in a team?''

''When you work in a team and duck behind the door of a car, it's crowded.''

Nate sighed.

''Why are you doing your job?''

''I've been doing my job since I can remember. I'm an undercover agent. I'm living this life so others can have a normal, less dangerous, maybe even boring, family life.''

''What do you think about Sam?''

''I'm an undercover agent also because I don't like philosophizing.''

After a while Callen decided to have mercy on Nate and said: ''I trust him.''

''Which may be my biggest mistake. Tracy is the proof,' Callen immediately added for himself. Even he had enough common sense not to mention this aloud. No matter how great an agent he was, sometimes the bosses really read the evaluation papers and decided according to them. No need to let them know how much the Tracy fiasco/marriage affected him.

'Let's skip the question about the personal traits of your partner you value the most,' Nate decided in his mind.

''What do you think he thinks about you?'' Nate tried.

''That I'm practically homeless, too young to be the lead agent, paranoid, terrible to deal with,'' Callen replied and unlike Sam didn't offer a serious version of the answer. ''Overall he may think I'm crazy,'' Callen summed up.

Nate sighed again. He toyed with the idea that this observation was very true.

Suddenly Callen grinned. ''You think it too. But so far you've let me free and haven't locked me up.''

Nate thought: 'I hate it when he does it, I'm supposed to get inside people's heads, not the other way around.' Oh, how he understood the unprofessional note saying super-cagey...

''What's your partner's biggest fear? How does he react under pressure?'' Nate dreaded the answer. Will it be sarcastic, cynical or only ironic?

''Can you imagine the big guy worried? He's all muscles, no place for worries. He quotes films under pressure.'' Callen smirked.

''Everything is fine, Nate. See you next time.''

... ... ... ... ... ...

''What can you tell us, Mr. Getz,'' Hetty asked.

''I should have been a surgeon.''

''And apart from your career choices?'' Hetty asked dryly.

''They are complete opposites, but their commitment to the job brings them closer. They are hard on themselves, they expect only the perfect performance which involves having their partner's back, even if they wouldn't want to - but they want to... and you had known all of this before I told you.''

''But I'm not an operational psychologist, it would be irresponsible for me to write the evaluation papers by myself,'' Hetty stated.