Apologies for the long wait in between chapters. I hope I've done this one justice!


Hetty hated to admit that she was ever wrong, but in her present state, she realized AJ had been right all along. And the fact that she needed his help was becoming clearer with each passing moment.

The shower had been somewhat painful but was not what brought on her feelings of inadequacy. Rather, it was getting dressed…a seemingly simple task…that was proving beyond her capabilities. The pants had taken a little longer than normal but were manageable. The injuries to her ribs and back, however, made manipulating anything higher than her waist, like a nightshirt, nearly impossible.

But Henrietta Lange was not one to declare defeat so easily. So, taking in another deep breath, she raised her arms high enough to put on the satin nightshirt. All seemed well until she lowered her arms and a hot, searing pain shot across her lower back.

Cringing, Hetty took hold of the vanity in front of her, holding in the sob now caught in her throat. Something had broken open…the stitches, most likely…but how badly and how many, she couldn't tell. Once again, the tiny lady was reminded she needed assistance. But for this, she couldn't possibly ask AJ…he'd helped enough already, and Hetty loathed asking him to look at her beaten, bruised body. The shame of it all was too much for her teetering emotions.

She could only hope that the wounds would reseal themselves, that only a few stitches had come loose. But as Hetty slowly moved in to the bedroom, her nightshirt began sticking to the gashes along her spine. Her heart sunk as she realized this was going to be worse than she had hoped.

"Everything all right?"

AJ stood from a large chair in the corner, having been reading from a novel he'd found in the library that afternoon.

While their visit with Callen had been a good one, the Admiral saw how easily it tired Henrietta…and he wanted to be sure he was on hand should she need his assistance. When she'd gone to shower after a small dinner, he worried she would call for his help and he might not hear her from downstairs. It was then he'd determined to change in to his own nightclothes and wait for her in her bedroom.

The pale color of Hetty's skin and her rigid steps confirmed for the Admiral he had been right to wait close by…for something was obviously wrong.

"Henrietta…what is it?" he asked again, setting the book down and moving towards her.

AJ had just stepped in front of her when she wearily sat on the bed, her grimace revealing just how much pain she was in. Her hands shook as they gripped the comforter, her head lowered to try and compose herself. AJ reached forward, gently touching her shoulder.

"Dizzy?"

"No…not dizzy," she said quietly.

"Then what?" Lifting her chin slightly, he forced her to look at him. "Tell me."

"It will be all right…in time. I suppose you have your cell phone with you?"

Surprised at her sudden change of subject, he stepped back. "Yes…why?"

"Might you call Miss Jones for me…or perhaps Miss Blye?"

"I can…but Callen will take care of the team."

She nodded. "Indeed…but I'm afraid I need their assistance with another matter."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Such as…?"

"I…Just ask if they might stop by on their way home from the office…please," she answered, her head dropping, half to gather another breath and half in shame.

The Admiral was quickly becoming frustrated. "Henrietta, just tell me what is wrong."

Hetty shook her head slowly from side to side. "No, AJ, I…."

"Now!" he exclaimed, his arms crossing defiantly, waiting for her to look at him.

Hetty tiredly lifted her head, sighing softly. "I do not want you to see this, AJ. You've done more than enough as it is."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It's rather…sensitive…" she said, clearing her throat. "I would rather…"

AJ stepped forward again, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Henrietta, if you think I haven't seen worse before, think again."

She shuddered involuntarily, knowing they had both seen many horrors during their time as active operatives. But Hetty did not want AJ to think less of her. And, to the strong and powerful Henrietta Lange, physical wounds proved she had failed in so many ways. Failed Keane, failed her team, failed her life long friends…failed herself…

"Show me," he commanded softly.

Her eyes glistened with tears as she met his gaze. Something more was happening between them…something more than friendship. Perhaps that was another reason she didn't want him to see her bloody, marred back. Not understanding where she and AJ's relationship was headed worried her just as much as her failing he and the team in Vietnam.

"AJ…"

"Henrietta, show me or we're going to the hospital."

Grumbling under her breath, she turned slightly on the bed. "I think some of the stitches came loose."

AJ stepped to the side and quickly realized why she was in so much pain. The entire lower portion of her nightshirt was streaked with red, little drops of blood now falling on to the comforter.

Cursing under his breath, AJ reached forward and gently pulled up her nightshirt, the blood flowing faster as the material pulled away from her skin.

It felt like little needles poking her all at once as the satin garment tore away from her wounds. Hetty did her best not to flinch, but the pain was too great. Her breath hitched, her body instinctively bending forward, pulling away from what seemed to be the source of her affliction.

AJ put a hand on her arm, holding her in place, so she wouldn't do any further damage to her back nor put any extra pressure on her broken ribs.

"First aid kit?"

"In the bathroom," she whispered, a lone tear making its way down her cheek.

He moved quickly, finding the first aid kit, along with other supplies they may need later. Not wasting a moment, the Admiral moved back in to the bedroom and set everything on the bed behind Hetty.

"All right…let's get you out of that shirt."

Hetty's eyes widened to the size of saucers, her face paling even further.

"AJ…I…"

"I can't properly dress the wounds and hold up the shirt at the same time. Plus, it's got blood all over it. Where do you keep your other nightshirts?"

"But…"

Calmly, he took one of the larger towels and pressed it in to her arms. "You do the buttons and when you're ready, I'll help you pull it off. You can hold the towel in front of you the whole time."

Silently, she locked eyes with him. The Admiral had seen everything from defiance to rage to elation in Henrietta Lange's eyes over the past forty years. But the fear he now saw from the normally courageous woman surprised and worried him.

Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek softly. "Quick and simple, Henrietta. Just pretend we're back in Moscow and cutting you out of that dress again."

Her frown slowly turned upward, a small chuckle escaping her lips at the memory. Smiling, the Admiral whispered in her ear, "It looked better as a mini-dress anyway."

He pulled back, but not before sending a wink her way. Hetty blushed, looking away from the sparkling eyes of the Admiral standing in front of her.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up."

He moved to her dresser and found her night clothes in the middle drawer, picking out a new nightshirt that looked almost identical to the one she was currently wearing. He settled himself behind her on the bed, waiting for her cue .

Her hands shook as she undid the five buttons along her chest, pulling the towel close as the garment opened, letting in a rush of cool air. Turning her head slightly, she held out her left arm.

"Could you please…?" she asked softly, the fatigue suddenly overwhelming.

AJ obliged, gently tugging the shirt's sleeve off her tiny arm. After doing the same on Hetty's right side, he threw the bloody nightshirt on the ground and quickly examined how much damage had been done.

The gashes were deep…the skin around each wound swollen where the stitching had come out. The blood was still flowing out of the wounds, and AJ worried if he didn't stop it soon, a trip to the hospital was inevitable.

His hands moved smoothly across her back, though his burden seemed to grow heavier each time she whimpered when he applied fresh ointment over the deep wounds.

"Good?" he asked, setting the ointment aside and picking up the needle and thread.

She agreed, but her breaths were coming in faster and more strained than AJ was comfortable with. He did his best to make the stitches clean and concise, not wanting them to split open again. But he feared his want to limit her pain caused him to rush. Blood still trickled through the largest of the gashes along her spine, though the flow seemed to have slowed significantly.

"Almost done," AJ told her.

His last task was placing large pieces of gauze over the wounds, taping them in place with medical tape from the first aid kit.

"Ok….that should hold until your doctor's appointment tomorrow. We should wrap your ribs…"

Hetty shook her head back and forth, still trying to catch her breath. AJ, putting his hand on the back of her neck, leaned forward so he could see her face all while keeping her steady.

"It will help keep these bandages in place, Henrietta," he reminded her.

"No….harder to breathe with…them wrapped," Hetty answered, her entire body shaking from fatigue and pain.

The Admiral, knowing she couldn't handle much more, gave in. He gathered her new nightshirt and took her left hand, slipping it in to the sleeve. After some careful maneuvering, Hetty was in the clean garment and leaning against the headboard while AJ cleaned up all the supplies.

He turned out the lights in the bathroom, before moving to the bedroom door and shutting it. Hetty barely noticed that he hadn't left her alone until she saw the overhead lights turn out and felt the bed sag beside her.

Opening her weary eyes, Hetty turned to find AJ slipping off his shoes and turning out the lamp on the end table.

"AJ?"

"Shh…just take this and then we'll get you settled in bed."

Confusion etched across her features as he placed a tiny pill in her hand.

"Just one pain pill….please," he urged.

Too tired to argue, Hetty took the small pill, grateful that AJ helped her with the water glass. Before she could turn herself around on the bed, AJ had already turned down the comforter on her side of the bed and was pulling extra pillows from the closet.

"Think you can sleep on your stomach tonight?"

He placed a pillow along the edge of the bed before reaching over to take her hand in his. Hetty gripped his fingers tight, much tighter than AJ was used to.

"Henrietta?"

"Just…give me a minute," she said, forcing a small smile for him.

It hurt to see her in a weakened state…but at least she was still fighting. That, more than anything, gave him hope.

She soon nodded, indicating she was ready to try laying down. AJ helped her as much as he could, making sure she was breathing comfortably before turning out her bedside lamp.

He came around to the opposite side of the bed and climbed in, keenly aware that Hetty's eyes were watching him intently.

"I don't snore," he told her quietly, turning on his side and smiling at her.

Hetty couldn't move easily, but her head was situated on the pillow so she was facing him. AJ sensed she was trying to think of what to say…what to ask…what to do with him in her bed. But he couldn't leave her alone after what had happened tonight. He needed to be close in case the wounds broke open again or she needed help getting out of bed.

"AJ…you don't need to stay," she said softly.

"I know," he answered, reaching down to take her tiny hand in his. "But I'm going to. And there isn't anything you can do about it."

She huffed lightly, muttering under her breath, "Cheeky."

AJ's heart lightened, hearing a little of the old Henrietta coming through. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek.

"Sleep well, Henrietta."

She closed her briefly, letting out a sigh. "AJ…I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't have to," he answered, placing a light kiss to the back of her hand before pulling it against his chest. "I'm right where I want to be."

And before she knew what was happening, his lips had pressed against hers. Gentle, yet firm….strong but not overbearing.

"Sleep, Henrietta, just sleep. I'll be right here," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

And she had no choice but to oblige. Be it the pain pill kicking in, the fatigue from the blood loss or the emotional ups and downs of the past day and a half…Henrietta Lange, for once, did exactly as she was told and fell fast asleep.