Author's Note: Sorry guys for the delay. Especially since 95% of this has been written since I was on vacation last month :-) It just needed a couple paragraphs at the end, but I've been so busy. I know 'writer's block' is a thing, but I suffer from the opposite… SO MANY IDEAS AND NO TIME TO WRITE THEM ALL! (woe is my life, I know.)


In those first few moments between sleep and wakefulness, the world seems like its normal self, like the place it's always been. And then like a solar eclipse, the world grows instantly dark. But the ground doesn't fall completely out from under her and let her tumble down into the abyss. Because there's someone holding her up, holding her.

And then Nell Jones remembers. The phone call from her mother. Her sister, her baby sister... dead. There's a lump in her throat and a tight knot in her chest. But she's not alone. She's not alone and somehow that's comforting to her. His arms are wrapped about her, one around her waist, the other across her shoulders and upper chest, his body a solid warmth against her back. If she concentrates, pushes everything else out of her mind, she can feel the strong, steady beating of his heart.

He must know she's awake, because his arms tighten around her, his warm breath tickles her neck and then her ear as if he's about to whisper something to her. But he says nothing. And she can't blame him. This sort of highly emotional, highly personal interaction is not his thing. But G Callen has a good heart and a compassionate soul, and he's instinctively giving her everything she needs.

"Thank you for staying with me," Nell says, knowing he's awake even though he hasn't said a word. She shifts and he releases her to roll over on her side to face him. He's studying her in that intent way of his once again. And she doesn't care if he sees the gaping hole in her heart, if it makes him think her weak. But he wouldn't think that, would he? He knows her better than that. And she knows him better than that. And she is grateful for his keeping her company. She would've been grateful had it been any other person she considered a friend. But with Callen, she finds herself even further appreciative of just how much he cares. Because holding her through the night is no simple act for the habitual insomniac. He was probably awake more than he was asleep. But still, he held her, didn't leave her alone for a second.

"You don't have to thank me, Nell." He reaches a hand out, hesitates, then seems to decide it's okay to gently touch the side of her face. The concern in his eyes creates a different sort of knot in her throat. He smiles softly at her and withdraws his hand. "Breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she says, even though it wasn't exactly put to her as a question.

"You need to eat." He's going all stern on her, that softer side of him retreating. "You skipped dinner, too."

Yes, she had. Because her sister is dead. The grief hits her in a wave, out of nowhere. Maybe this is what it will be like for the rest of her life. The everyday moments distracting her, making her forget until suddenly she remembers that her sister is no longer in the world, that she'll never talk to her again, see her again, hug her, laugh with her, cry with her. And that's just the selfish side of grief, she knows. Nell doesn't even want to consider all of the moments that have been stolen from her sister, all the experiences the young woman will never have.

"If I make pancakes, will you eat them?"

He's still staring at her, evaluating her. Can he see the melancholic turn of her thoughts? That she's being sucked slowly back down into the black despair?

"Maybe." She honestly doesn't know. Perhaps she'll find herself starving when she's sat down in front of a stack of warm flapjacks dripping with butter and syrup. Or perhaps, they'll only make her stomach turn in disgust over her selfish desires. Because her sister is dead.

"I think I'll just stay here for a while, though."

"In bed?" he asks. He's obviously never dealt with depression the way normal people do. But maybe that's because he's never had a safe harbor before, a place that just calls to him, a bed that seduces you into crawling under the covers, warm and cozy and you'll never have to face the world again. Because the world is cruel. But she knows G Callen is well aware of that fact. She's not strong like him, though. He's a survivor. He fights. Maybe he's never had the opportunity to indulge in depression in the preferred manner of everyone else, despite the fact that she knows he has his dark moods (He probably just shoots something). Depression. It's disgusting, as well as debilitating. A first world, leisure problem for those with time to think lonely, melancholy thoughts, rather than scrabbling every waking moment for food, shelter, survival. But perhaps she has the right to indulge. She has the time and the pain. She just wants to curl up in a ball for awhile.

"Yes." She starts struggling with the blankets beneath her. The two of them had simply collapsed (well, she'd collapsed, anyway) on top of the covers and slept there all night. After a moment, Callen gets up, pulls back the blankets to let her wiggle under, and tucks her in.

"Breakfast in half an hour," he says before leaving her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

She doesn't sleep, really. Not a real REM slumber, anyway. But still, it would be easy to stay in that numb, cozy embrace for the rest of the day. And she thinks about doing just that, secure in the knowledge that when she feels ready to emerge, Callen will be there for her. He's a good guy.

However, her phone rings, and she's forced to engage in the second worst call of her life. Her mother sounds not at all like the woman Nell has known all her life, and who could blame her? It's nearly robotic, the way in which the gentle yet (usually) perpetually energetic woman relays information to her second youngest (now youngest living) daughter. The wake will be in two days. The services in three. But she doesn't need to rush home earlier. Is her mom serious? Of course Nell is leaving just as soon as she can straighten things around with work and book a plane ticket. She loves and misses them and she wants to be there. Her mother loves her more than anything.

Nell is crying again by the time the call ends. The need she has for a hug is indescribably intense, but she resists seeking out the friend she instinctively knows remains in her apartment, waiting for her, keeping an eye on her. Instead she heads for the bathroom and takes a long, hot shower, washing away the grime that uncomfortably coats her skin, and enjoying the feel of the delicious water pressure on her aching muscles. She feels sore all over, and with no real reason. It's easy to dismiss emotional distress as being all in the head, but it can have severe physical manifestations.

She pulls down her cozy robe, the extra plush one that is a size too big, and wraps herself up tightly in it, trapping the residual pleasant glow warming her skin. The smell of griddle-cooked cakes call to her from the kitchen and she follows the delicious aroma to its source, smiling as she sees G Callen busy at her stove. He's humming mindlessly as he flips the round pools of bubbling batter over, revealing a perfectly golden underside.

Her stomach growls audibly.

"Hungry?" he asks without turning around.

"Yeah." She sits down at her little round table in her small kitchen, where a place is already laid out for her. In a minute, a plate with an epic stack of pancakes appears before her. Okay, it's just three. But far more than she can usually manage, no matter how hungry she is. But she doesn't want to be rude, so she just pours syrup over the tower of pancake and takes a big bite, trying to say 'thank you' with a mouthful of deliciousness when a tall glass of milk is set before her.

Instead, she glances up to give the friend she by no means deserves an appreciative smile, feeling like a chipmunk with cheeks full of acorns. Callen gives her that friggen charming-as-hell grin of his before he fixes his own plate and sits down across from her. They eat for a few minutes in silence, and it's lovely. But then her brain begins to wander, and she knows that she needs to tell her pseudo-boyfriend what's going on. He's been so great to her, without more than a word's explanation, and he deserves to know what is going on. Besides, it will affect the arrangement they have made for getting Elise off his back.

"I'm leaving for Wisconsin as soon as I can clear it with Hetty and book a ticket," she says finally, after taking a large gulp of milk to wash away the spongy breakfast cake clinging to her esophagus.

"I already talked to Hetty," he says, only glancing up briefly from his plate. "I hope you don't mind."

Nell hesitates. She's not sure whether she cares. On the one hand, perhaps she should. What gives him the right to meddle in her business? On the other hand, it is one less thing she has to worry about. And she does/ trust him.

"Thanks," she says. He puts down his fork and looks at her. God, sometimes she hates that. It's like he can see straight into her fricken soul. It's evident what he's waiting for... the story, the truth of what has rent her heart in two.

"It's Alice."

He nods, looks away.

"She was at my parents house, visiting. Left just after dinner to head back to school. An oncoming car swerved into her lane. There was no time for her to react. She was dead when the first responders arrived on scene. The other driver died in the hospital. His blood-alcohol level was 0.17."

Nell watches his face, well, his profile anyway, as he swallows hard, his eyes distant and just a little wet. When he looks at her once more, he has his strong, immovable expression on, the one she recognizes as a mask he sometimes adopts when days are especially emotionally trying.

"I'll go with you." What? Why would he-Oh. He reaches out and takes her hand. "If you want me to."

It makes her warm inside to know that he cares so much, that he would travel to an unfamiliar place, surround himself with the grief-stricken, sit through long, depressing hours with her, just because it might comfort her. And it would. He would. But at the same time, she knows she'd feel that stupid, inevitable obligation, the awareness that he's there, that he is her responsibility, to introduce to people, to make sure he is comfortable. Not to mention her family's intrinsic obligation to a guest. He by no means is a demanding person, and she knows he would go out of his way to be no burden, but a stranger is a stranger in such circumstances, and her family is the type to reach out, to make all those around them comfortable, despite their own feelings. They would feel compelled to make small talk, to put him up in the guest room of their house... or with Nell, which she would admittedly prefer. The primary reason she's considering it at all is for the warm embrace he has to offer, the safety and serenity of lying in his arms at night. But not only would that be taking advantage of his compassionate nature, it would complicate her life in ways she doesn't want. Mainly, in all of the explanations she'd be forced to give upon introducing the man. 'He's my.. um... friend...' Yeah, that's a barrel full of stress on its own.

"I appreciate the offer, G," she says. "I really do. But this is something I have to do on my own."

He nods, releases her hand and returns his attention to the remaining few bites of pancake swimming in syrup on his plate. She watches him for a moment. He doesn't look offended by her rejection. But he wouldn't, would he? Guilt bites at her. And it's not just of a single variety. She feels guilty because she's about to leave the poor man hanging in the wind, unintentionally undoing any groundwork she may have laid in convincing Elise that her handsome, blue-eyed neighbor is taken. Because if they were seriously involved, she would take Callen home with her, need him there, the comfort of the man she loves while she grieves the loss of her sister. Which brings her to the other guilt that rose up fast, threatening to unsettle the pancakes sitting heavy in her belly. How can she think of anything but her baby sister? Is it not an insult to Alice to consider such petty things as the emotionally irresponsible game they were playing on a poor, kind-hearted, if a bit stalker-ish, woman?

Nell smiles. Alice would've loved to hear this story. She briefly regrets not telling her about the operation her coworker roped her into during their last skyping conversation. And she would approve of Nell helping a friend out, had always teased Nell, but also praised her about her active brain, the multitasking that would have her 'head in the clouds', and her attention to details… but no one was as thoughtful as Alice.

"You should stay in my apartment while I'm gone," Nell says, after finishing off her last bite of pancake and considering the logistics. Callen gives her a curious look. "If Elise doesn't know the reason why, she'll think we broke up when I'm not around for a week. Or that we had a fight. Either way, that weakens our pseudo-relationship."

"She knows," Callen says quietly. A very rare expression is on his face, so rare that it takes Nell a moment to identify it as shame. "I told her. I'm sorry. I had-"

The memory returns to her, of lying, broken and sobbing in his lap on the front lawn, with Elise hovering over them, his convincing her to leave them alone with the blunt truth. Why couldn't he have just been that way with the woman in the beginning? Why did he have to recruit Nell? But then, she would've been alone when she received the terrible news. She wouldn't have the surprising comfort of the man's friendship.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she says. "But you should stay here. She'll think you went with me, which will only solidify the seriousness of our relationship in her mind."

"Are you sure, Nell?" He's looking at her with those eyes again. But she somehow feels like it's a relief to know he'll be in her home when she's gone. And it's a bizarre notion that she simply does not have the time, or desire to consider at the moment. She only knows she wants him to be there when she gets home.

"Yes. I'm sure."


A/N: I know. I know. I promised some action for this story, too… And there will be in the future. But I'm enjoying the slow development of Callen and Nell's relationship. And I hope you are, too. However, there will finally be some progression with the primary story arc of Elise, the stalker-blogger neighbor very soon.