Chapter 7 - Hindsight

Monday Morning, OSP

Callen arrived at precisely 9:22am in the parking lot of the visually abandoned building. Feeling perkier than usual, he greeted his teammates with a boastful "Good Morning," Sam following a few steps behind.

Kensi was fairly certain of why her friend was in an unusually good mood for a Monday morning, while Sam was very certain of the reason despite Callen not saying a word about Katie or his weekend on the drive to work.

Deeks, seemingly clueless at first inquired after rounds of "Morning" were shared. "What's up with Callen? He has a bounce in his step, a genuine smile on his lips and are his eyes twinkling?"

Kensi and Sam nodded their heads in agreement to what they assumed Deeks was thinking.

The Detective's game was on, "The waitress, Katie?"

"Yep," Sam replied as Callen carried his coffee mug to his desk.

"Twice," Callen chimed in as he checked the in Box on his desk.

Eyes darted around the bullpen before landing on Callen.

"Actually it was twice and a half," he stated with that twinkle still in his eyes.

The sound of Eric's whistle was a welcoming sound. Although he was feeling somewhat cocky and didn't hesitate to show it, that was as far as he wanted to go with sharing his personal life with his teammates – for now.

Kensi grabbed Callen's arm to keep him from walking the stairs with Sam and Deeks, "I'm not babysitting," she adamantly informed him.

"Wouldn't even think of it. But how are you with dogs?" he asked with his should-be-trademarked smirk.

They both laughed as they made their way up the stairs to the room where the next week would change all of their lives.

Saturday, Six Days Later

Callen sat in the lone chair of his living room, staring at the box above the fireplace. Memories of the past five days would not be going in that box. The detonation of a nuclear bomb in the desert, travelling fifteen thousand miles to Iran and back in less than fifty hours with his nemesis, jet lag that was reversed faster than he could blink his baby blue eyes and the... he couldn't finish the thought.

The look on Janvier's face when he showed Callen his betrayal and his admittance that he only lived to kill all that G. Callen loves, paled in comparison to the sight of his team mates, his friends – his family, who were left to die a slow and painful death in the rooms that had echoed their screams only a few hours before.

After the mandatory de-briefings and standard medical evaluations, Kensi sat at Deeks' beside in the hospital and Michelle (unscathed from her unwanted scenic view of the city) kept vigil at Sam's bedside.

Callen had only seen them briefly after they were admitted, however, sedation had them unaware of his presence. Part of him was thankful that he didn't have to look them in the eye and part of him was regretful that he hadn't been able to apologize (although that wouldn't even begin to ease his guilt ridden conscience) for not catching Janvier's betrayal before he met with Sidarov. Marcel's eyes were deep set and with aging wrinkles the ink was well hidden. He still should have seen it. He looked the man directly in the eye several times after Marcel had used the washroom. The washroom. That was his first mistake. He cursed himself yet again. He never should have left his captive alone behind that second door. Callen wasn't sure time would heal the wound that this guilt was slowly carving into his body.

Callen knew Sam and Deeks would most likely be awake as he and Hetty silently walked the hospital hallway, first to Deeks' room where he lay, his head wrapped in bandages and tilted slightly to the side where Kensi sat talking about her last birthday with her father and how he would approve of her partner. Callen tried but he couldn't look Deeks in the eye. He glanced over them; the sight of the bandages raised the bile from his stomach rapidly upward. Special Agent G. Callen could handle anything (well, anything except needles) but the sight before him had his exit shoes padding quickly to the washroom across the hall.

Hetty chatted a few moments with Kensi before making her way to Sam's room where Michelle sat, watching and listening as Rachel and her dad talked about her week at school. Pleasantries were exchanged before Hetty took Michelle aside to ask how Sam was doing. She answered honestly and Hetty wasn't surprised but the doctors were optimistic about the long-term prognosis. Michelle asked why Callen wasn't with her, and it was explained that Mr. Callen had come but he wasn't doing well with the surroundings of the hospital.

Callen found himself leaning back in his chair – this time at work where his attempt to get his mind off of Deeks and Sam by filling in incident reports, proved useless. The stack of paper on his desk somewhat blocked his view of the entrance to the bullpen, so Hetty wasn't entirely visible as she approached his desk.

"Mr. Callen."

"Hetty." He was not in a talkative mood. A quick glance up to his boss reassured him that by the look on her face she would be doing the talking.

"Sam was asking for you."

As usual, she wasn't beating around any bushes. Callen averted her eyes and grabbed a file folder from the pile.

"Many of us have been there, both sides." Her voice was quiet. He had no clue which case file he had picked up and when he started to scribble something at the top of a page, Hetty's hand reached outward and stilled his arm.

"No one blames you Mr. Callen. No one." He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before her next words. "Except you."

G. Callen was feeling more deflated than he ever had during his career, "I should have seen it. It was right there in front of me."

Hetty retracted her hand and Callen tossed the pen to his desk.

"Agent Blye was with you."

He had been too consumed blaming himself that he had forgotten he wasn't the only one that missed Marcel Janvier's treachery.

"What happened to Agent Hannah and Detective Deeks was about keeping Michelle's cover."

Callen's eyes finally met Hetty's before he swallowed hard and ran his hand over his hair knowing that only he could end the self-pity party. He was the team leader and took full responsibility for any mishaps on a mission. What he had temporarily disregarded was the difference between responsibility and blame. Guilt doesn't (often) go with responsibility but it certainly does keep close company with blame.

When Hetty saw her words were getting through to her senior agent, she gave herself an inward smile.

Callen glanced at his watch and saw that he still had plenty of time before visiting hours were over (even though he would still find a way in after hours), "Think Sam will let me eat his chocolate pudding?"

Saturday Evening

Katie was working an odd shift that day, 2-9pm, when she saw Callen's number appear on her phone while on a break. She hesitated to answer it. It had been five and-a-half days and not one word from him despite her sending three texts and leaving two voice messages. One of her friends told her that he probably wasn't interested, had moved on and was too much of a coward to tell her face-to-face. Another friend told her that he had to be married. Friend number three insisted that he was gay and just 'experimenting' with her.

She had listened intently while each of them express their opinion of her … what was G. Callen to her?

Not interested, coward. The man endured perhaps the most boring ninety minutes of his life quizzing her from a nine hundred paged textbook. G. Callen didn't strike her as a coward even though she didn't really have a precise incident to back up her perception. Married. There wasn't one iota of evidence that he was married (or even in a relationship) based on what she had seen. Gay. He is a good-looking man with an alluring charm beyond the entrancing eyes and snow-melting smile. Bi-sexual – maybe - homosexual - no! And that would be based on the most intense orgasm of her life that he had given her.

During his absence, Katie's mind had entertained scenarios that made her wish she hadn't asked him, "Is the work you do, dangerous?" And as she recalled how his thumb gently stroked her cheek and he replied with "Yes," her body stiffened and hesitated before pressing the Talk button to answer his call.

"Katie, you there?" Callen asked.

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm at work. What's up?"

"What time do you get off?"

"Why?"

"I want to see you."

The sound of his voiced slightly lifted her spirits even though she was still pissed at him for telling her his job was dangerous and then not hearing one word from him for five and a half days. School had been at the forefront of her mind until Thursday morning (and her exam was over) when she still hadn't heard from him. When work called early Saturday morning and asked her to cover a shift for an absent worker, Katie took it. The thought of driving to his house was erased after that phone call.

"I don't want to see you."

"What? Why?"

"I called and texted you this week and not one word from you." Her emotions were all over the place, her heart wanting to see him, see for herself that he was okay and her head was telling her to say "No thanks."

Callen's stomach flipped. Damn! He had seen the messages on his phone but his priorities the past week were more pressing: finding those nukes, Sam and Deeks.

"Oh Katie, I didn't get your messages." It wasn't a lie. He saw she called and texted but he hadn't actually heard or seen the contents. He wasn't going to say he was sorry because that would imply it wouldn't happen again and unfortunately in his line of work that wasn't realistic.

"What was so important that you didn't have thirty seconds to respond to one of my texts?"

Oh fuck! "I will explain tonight – that is if you will see me?"

Katie threw her head back and scrunched her eyes closed, letting out a sigh loud enough for the bartender to glance in in her direction, "I'll be home at nine-thirty. Bring a Hawaiian pizza from Papa Gino's Pizzeria on West Venice Beach Blvd."