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In 36 hours, Arya had returned 3 more times. Each time, she updated Callen on the progress of their escape: she had been taking semi-frequent walks into the hills on the West side of the village. She made up excuses for her trips to avoid arousing suspicion: gathering wood for dinner fires, picking flowers or wild herbs, etc.

Meanwhile, Callen was continuing to weaken. After 5 days of brutal interrogations, with little more than bread and water to eat, his body was beginning to betray him. He tried to keep up what strength he had, but Saman's cruel methods kept sapping him of it. Every time he stood, stars danced in front of his eyes and his head swam with nausea. Several times, he passed out during the interrogations. He truly began to fear he wouldn't survive until Arya's plan could come to fruition. He was now laying on the floor again as she came in with her usual food and water. She woke him and, with difficulty, got him to sit up. Callen groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him. He leaned against Arya and waited for it to pass.

"Come on now, you can't give up! We're so close; just another day. This time tomorrow, we'll be leaving! Please hold on, Callen." She begged, holding him up.

"I'm trying." He whispered weakly. "I don't think I have much strength left, Arya."

She sighed and just held him for a moment. It was not lost on her that this was the first physical contact she had ever had with a man, aside from her father and uncles. It felt strange; forbidden, yet innocent at the same time. Then she moved and gave him the bread and water, promising to return in the morning. She left and went home, praying he survived the night.

Preparations for the airstrike had kicked into high gear. With 12 hours until launch, the F-18s were being loaded with their armaments of AGM-65 Maverick missiles; the plan was to avoid collateral damage if possible, so the Mavericks were being used in place of simply carpet-bombing the whole place. The pilots were being briefed in 6 hours, and the attack would commence after dark.

The team had continued their search for Callen, but to no avail. Sam continued to pray for Callen's safe return, and he, along with Kensi and Deeks had continued contact with local informants, but none had seen him. It seemed he may never be found.

***11 hours later***

Arya was awakened by a commotion and screaming nearby. She heard gunfire and the screams silenced. She rose quickly and stepped into the hallway; the clock read 9:30pm. She was met by her mother, looking equally confused as she was. The turned toward the front door, which opened and her brother Aziz barged through, shutting it behind him and locking it. "Hide, quickly! It's Saman! He and his Talib friends have taken over the village! They've killed father and taken over!" he said, panicked. Suddenly, the door behind him rattled as his body was riddled with bullets from the other side. He slumped in front of the door, blocking it shut. Arya and her mother screamed, her mother crawled to her son's body and cradled it, sobbing. Arya shouted for her mother to get away from the door, but it was too late; more bullets perforated the door and killed her mother, too. Arya scurried backward, her hand over her mouth to cover her own shrieks of sadness and terror. As the assailants tried to get through the door, now blocked by the two bodies, she snapped out of her panic long enough to dress and throw on a long scarf, which she wrapped around her head and face. She grabbed the bag she had packed with some extra clothes and belongings and, after a careful sweep of the alley behind her room, climbed out the window and made her way to the prison.

Callen was awakened by the screams and gunfire, too. He struggled to sit up and determine what was happening. A rescue, perhaps? He thought hopefully. He thought of Arya and feared she had been caught in the crossfire. Was one of the screams hers?

As if on cue, the door opened. He expected one of two things were about to happen: he was about to be killed by one of the shooters, or he was about to be rescued by one of the shooters. His heart stopped when he recognized who it was: Saman, his pistol in one hand.

"Now, I have no need to let you live, Infidel dog. I am now the leader of this village, with no one to answer to! I send you on your way to hell. Allah u Akbar." He said, stepping forward and aiming the gun at Callen. Callen, with nowhere to go and no way to defend himself, braced himself for the shot.

"Almost there. Allah, help us!" Arya prayed as she made her way across the village to the prison. Several times, she had nearly been seen, but had hidden just in time in the shadows. She was now across the street, when she saw Saman rush to the door. She gasped as she saw the pistol in his hand. Knowing that Callen had moments to live, she grabbed the walking stick of a fallen villager and ran forward. Silently, she swung the stick at Saman's head with all her might at the same time he fired a shot at Callen. He never heard her approach, nor her swing of the stick as it connected with the right side of his skull. He dropped like a rock, the gun skittering across the floor. When he didn't move, she ran to Callen, fearing the worst. He was slumped against the wall, not moving.

"Callen!" she screamed. "Callen, wake up! Say something!" She turned him to face her, and he opened his eyes. Breathing a word of thanks to Allah, she scanned his body for the wound but, save for a small one to his left shoulder, he seemed unharmed. Taking a small knife from her bag, she cut his hands free.

"What's going on?" Callen asked.

"Come on! We're leaving now. Saman has killed my father and is taking over the village!" She explained. He tried to rise, but stumbled. She caught him, then swore under her breath. Putting his arm over her shoulders, they made their way to the door.

"Grab the gun." Callen ordered. She picked it up and handed it to him; after checking the safety, he tucked it into his belt. Then they stepped over Saman, went out the door and hurried around the corner.

They stopped to rest several times. Callen's head swam and he struggled to stay upright, but Arya's strength surprised him; not once did she let him fall. The chaos continued in the village, but miraculously, no one noticed the two making their way toward the mountains. They finally made it out of the village and started climbing into the rocky foliage. They were about 600 feet up the 2,500-ft. mountain when they heard an unnatural roar behind them. Callen and Arya turned just in time to see the F-18s unload their Mavericks into the village, right in the neighborhood where Callen's prison had stood just 10 minutes ago. The explosion was massive, as the weapons and ammunition he had been looking for exploded, a mere 25 yards away from where he had been held.

Sam, Kensi, and Deeks were sitting outside around a firepit, waiting for word on the assault; none of them could sleep until they knew the outcome. It had commenced at 2200, with the first missile making contact at 2210. It was now 2348; they should be getting news any minute now. Col. Andrews approached them slowly.

"The mission is complete. Debriefing is about to start in 5 minutes." He informed them. They rose to follow.

"The mission was a success; the targets were hit and destroyed, and our ground team confirmed their destruction. It seems that we struck in the middle of a disturbance of some kind; several villagers were killed by gunfire, not our missiles. According to our informants, a coup of some kind had happened; something about the village leader being murdered and another man taking over his position. We were not involved in the exchange of power, but our informant found something…" the Colonel turned toward where Sam, Deeks, and Kensi were standing.

"Do these look familiar to you?" he opened a bag and removed Callen's tac-vest, sidearm holster, and slightly bloodied field jacket.

"NOOOOOO!" Kensi moaned and grabbed Deeks for support. He held her for a moment, then lowered both of them to the floor as his own knees gave out under him. They both sat, Kensi sobbing into his chest, tears sliding down Deeks' face into her hair.

Sam was beside himself. Unable to control his emotions, he shoved his way outside and, when he was a good distance away, uttered a cry of grief and anger. He fell to his knees and pounded the dirt, over and over, until his hands bled and his throat was raw from screaming. Exhausted, he crawled to the nearest solid object and leaned against it, continuing to grieve alone through the night for his fallen friend and brother.