Granger smiled as he watched Callen work on his letter. Maybe there was something to this, maybe Callen would finally reach out to the one woman who was so invested in his life.

For an hour, Callen kept writing, screwing up the paper and tossing it in the trash, then starting again.

"Fuck it!" He swore after trying again for about the fortieth time. "I can't do this, I'll just tell them to forget it; it's not worth the effort. I'm not worth the effort." He stood up, and started pacing the corridor outside his cell.

"Come on, it can't be that hard." Owen encouraged him. "I already said I'd help you. Besides all that pacing is giving me neck ache."

Callen stopped at the door to their cell.

"Fine…" He snapped, "What the hell do I tell her?"

Granger took one of the pieces of paper out of the trash and read what Callen had tried to write.

"It's not that bad." He said, hoping to lift the boy's spirits. "I mean 'hello' is a good way to start, and you put your name and your age."

He looked at the screwed up piece of paper again.

Hi Hetty.

My name is G. Callen. I am 17. I got ya letter and sure if ya want ya can come and see me. I ain't got nothin better to do as I am in prison. But ya know that coz ya wrote to me.

I dunno why ya wanna waste ya time but it's your time to waste. I don't have any plans for when I leave here coz I ain't good at nothin. My cellmate says I should meet you as you might be nice. I know you may pretend to be nice but you are only meeting me because it makes ya feel good.

So I suppose you can come then.

I ain't going anywhere so come when you like.

Bye

Callen.

Owen looked at the letter. "It really isn't that bad. May need some fixing here and there."

"I dunno what to write to her; I don't know her do I." Callen sighed. "I've never written a letter before." He admitted, "Never had anyone to write to."

Owen grabbed a stack of paper and some pens. "Come on kid." He said and walked out of their cell towards the main hall.

Callen lagged behind; ever since his last run in, he did not like going to the main hall for anything but meals, but there was no way he was going to look like a weak girl and tell Grant he was scared. So he dampened down his worry, and followed along behind.

Granger sat down, putting the paper and pens down next to him and indicating that Callen should sit next to him.

"So… Callen… what do you know about basic letter writing?" Granger asked.

Callen shrugged, "You're mean and nasty when you write a letter, tell people what you think and don't care about their feelings. You also tell them what to do and where to be?" He stopped and looked at Granger, "But this lady didn't do anything to me; I don't want to be mean to her. Can't I just tell someone to call her?" He asked.

Granger shook his head, "You have to write to her; she wrote to you. She wasn't mean in her letter now was she?" He asked.

Callen shook his head. "No, that's why I wanna see her. I've never got a nice letter before. It's usually you go here, you go there, these people don't want you, so you'll be moved by whenever. No one's been nice in a letter before. I kinda wanna thank her for that."

Granger smiled, "So… start with that."

Callen nodded.

Hi, Miss Hetty.

I liked your letter it was nice.

Ya asked about me my name is Callen and I am 17.

I live in Fulsome and share a room with a guy called Owen Grant, he's ok but nosey.

I like that you wrote to me and Grant says it would be a good idea if I seen ya. He says ya might be nice.

I am in here for a long time so youz can come wherever ya want as long as the warden says it ok.

Grant says the visiting area is nice and you would like it, they have real armchairs and stuff.

I promise to be good if you come and won't swear or nothin.

Thanks

Callen.

Callen looked over at Grant, "How's that?" he asked.

Grant smiled and was tempted to send it like that to Hetty. Either way, both attempts were going to be saved and shown to her later.

Grant picked up another piece of paper. "You write a letter like this." He said, and started with his prison number on the top with the address of the prison underneath.

"Why do you do that?" Callen asked.

"So they know where to send the letter to." He replied.

"But, she already sent me a letter, so she knows where I am." Callen argued.

"That's true," Grant agreed. "But it's polite, so it's what you do."

Callen sighed and copied what Granger had written, but put his own prison number in instead of Grant's.

"Ok, so what's next?" Callen asked.

"You put the date, and then Dear… in this case it would be Hetty; that's the lady's name." Granger told him.

Callen looked up confused, "Deer?" He said, puzzled "Why?"

"Because that's how the letter starts, it's to be nice."

Callen shrugged and wrote…

Deer Miss Hetty.

"No!" Granger nearly groaned, "Not like the animal, 'Dear', like when someone cares and calls you dear."

Callen looked at him blankly, "Someone does what? Why?"

"It's a term of endearment, it means to show you care."

"But I don't care, I don't know her." Callen argued. He stopped for a moment, and looked at the letter Hetty had written. "She called me Dear… more than once, why would she do that? She doesn't know me."

"Maybe she's the sort of person who does care." Granger offered. "Sometimes, people care about other people because they have heard about them or their circumstances."

"Why? What's in it for her?"

Granger shrugged, "Nothing, maybe everything. Maybe she just doesn't think it's fair that one mistake can mean that you have to head down a bad road for the rest of your life. Maybe she thinks you can be helped."

Callen laughed, "She's gonna be disappointed, even my social worker said I was a lost cause."

"What if your social worker was wrong?"

Callen stood up sharply, his chair scraping along the floor and clattering to the group. "This is crap. You write the damn letter, let her come and see you. I ain't worth botherin' over!" He turned and stormed off to his cell, "Stupid letters, stupid stupid…"

Granger heard the last remark and nodded to the guard as Callen stormed off, "I need to see the warden." He said.

The guard nodded, and headed off. Granger grabbed the letters and headed off with him.

After a few minutes, Callen realized he had left the letter that the lady wrote on the table and turned back to go get it. He stood in the doorway, anger flooding his body as he realized that Grant was missing and the letter was too.

Callen was never going to admit it to Grant, but he had liked the letter, and now he realized that dear was a nice thing and not just a type of animal. He had started to treasure the letter, someone… even if he did not know who, was being nice to him and Grant had taken it.

If there was one thing Callen had learned over the years, it was that someone only stole from him once. He turned and headed back to his cell to finish work on the shiv he had started a few weeks ago.

Granger walked with the guard until they got to the administration block away from the other prisoners.

"How's he doing?" The guard asked.

Granger sighed, "He's a handful, you sure Hetty knows what she's doing?"

The guard smiled, it reached his deep blue eyes, "It's Hetty. I can't believe Mike had me come all the way here for a kid, but we both know you can't say no to her."

Granger smiled back, "Well, you're still a probie Gibbs, Mike must think a look at the other side of life would be a good wake up call for you."

"Which one of us is wearing Orange Granger?" Gibbs asked with a smirk.

"Well, I can't say no to her either." Granger said. "You should see these letters the kid wrote. I think we are getting there. I think he may be coming round."

Gibbs knocked on the door to the warden's office and they went in.

An hour later, Granger headed back to his cell. Finally seeing an end to this assignment in sight.

As he walked in the door, he was rushed by Callen and slammed up against the wall.

"You stole from me!" Callen snarled.

For a moment Granger stood there, he felt something warm trickle down his leg and looked confused. "I… Callen?" He looked down and saw a dark red stain spreading on his side.

"No one steals from me… that letter was mine, give it back."

"You stabbed me?" Granger looked confused, to be stabbed over a letter?

"It's mine." Callen started looking through his pockets, "Where is it?"

Granger slumped back against the wall, "I…?"

Gibbs walked up the corridor, Granger had forgotten the letters, and he knew that he would need them, so he picked them up along with the spare pens and paper that Granger had taken with him, and decided to take a walk up to the cell to give them back.

He walked up to the cell door, "Grant… you left the… holy shit!" he hit the emergency button on the wall, pushed Callen away from the older man and cuffed him.

"You stabbed him?" Gibbs said, looking at the boy.

"He stole from me, it was mine… I want it back…" Callen struggled to get to Granger. "Give me back my letter!"

Gibbs picked up the letter from social services and handed it to him, "This one, you stabbed him over a letter?" He grabbed a towel and put Granger's hand on it, "Hold it there."

"No…" Callen struggled against the cuffs, "He took it, the letter from the lady, the nice one! It's mine!"

"For God's sake Callen, it's here!" Gibbs snapped. "He was bringing it back, you didn't need to do this!" Gibbs pressed the emergency button again. "I need the paramedics!" he called to the other guard, who appeared at the end of the hallway.

Callen looked over at Granger, his anger rapidly dissipating, "I thought… I thought I wouldn't see it again." He blinked rapidly as tears burned his eyes, "She… she called me dear…" He sat back as the paramedics came in and took Grant away.

"I didn't mean to… is he gonna be ok?" Callen asked.

Another guard grabbed him, and hauled him off to solitary, "What do you care kid?" He snapped shaking his head. "You're a lost cause kid. I can't believe you had that Hetty lady calling and caring about you. She's a nice lady. You should be kept away from people, you're feral Callen."

He threw him in the hole and slammed the door shut, "We'll see if the warden decides to let you out this time." The guard yelled. "If I had my way we'd never let you out."

He slammed the window on the door shut as Callen threw himself onto the bunk, the letter that had caused all the problems still clutched tightly in his hand.

"He took it and she cared…" He whispered as the tears leaked silently down his face.

Granger lay in the infirmary, his hands behind his head, glaring at the ceiling.

"I don't like this." He groused. "Putting him in the hole is the wrong move."

"He stabbed you Owen." Gibbs argued as the doctor put a patch on his side.

Owen rolled his eyes, "It's a scratch Jethro, it didn't even make it past the first layer of muscle. He was hurt and scared. I've been with him for a few months now. You need to understand we were making progress." He argued.

"I thought you wanted to leave before you got too invested in the boy's future?" Gibbs argued.

"He's one of Hetty's; how can I not get involved? You've met him." Owen argued. "Besides…." He trailed off and turned away.

Gibbs' interest was piqued, "Besides?" He pushed.

"Besides, he's a kid and deserves a chance in life." Owen said, hastily changing his line of thought, truth was Clara had been his friend and he owed it to her to help.

"Yeah, well, he's probably screwed up too much this time," Gibbs opined. "Face it Owen, he stabbed a Federal Agent; he's gotta pay for that."

Owen shook his head, "He reacted to what he thought was a theft by his cellmate. He doesn't know I'm an Agent or that we are watching him." He hissed quietly.

Gibbs shook his head, "I'll go call Hetty and let her know what's happened." He said as he left Granger to lay on the bed.

Neither men saw the trusted orderly who had been in an adjoining room, slip out.