My God, I think I've actually finished it! Remaining chapters will get posted quicker now. Thank you for your patience!

CHAPTER TEN

Indecisive though he still might be, having some sort of a plan gave Callen a degree of comfort and renewed resolve, and his day at the hotel brought forth new hope in the form of an unexpected ally. He still had doubts about the viability of it all, but they'd pulled off crazier things in their time. He shut his mind to the knowledge that he'd had his whole team with him for most of their escapades. Now it was just him and his broken partner. He wished he could at least talk his plans over with Sam, see if there was anything he might have missed.

He looked over to where Sam lay still sleeping. Sam had made no mention the previous day of his disturbed sleep in the preceding night, and Callen was hopeful he had in fact forgotten about it. He rested his head on his knees again, bone tired of the dim cell, the cuffs, the whole damn charade.

"G?" Sam's voice, low and hoarse, made him jump; Sam hadn't spoken a word in over 36 hours and the last time he'd heard his partner make a sound had been in the darkness of the night, crying out for his dead wife.

"Hey," Callen replied, lifting his head. Sam had rolled on to his side and was lying looking at him. The big brown eyes were uncharacteristically dull and emotionless.

"G… the other night…"

"Don't," Callen said, quickly, firmly. "Whatever you're going to say, Sam, don't. Just forget it." Sam stared at him, long and hard and, unusually, Callen couldn't tell what his partner was thinking.

"Nothing makes any sense," Sam said eventually.

"I don't know how to stop them drugging you," Callen said with a sudden wild fury, rising angrily to pace the small area like a caged tiger.

"You can't," Sam said flatly. "Don't worry about it."

"Well I am worried, Sam! This isn't doing you any good!" Callen yanked violently on the chain tethering him to the ceiling, and when that yielded no results, he punched the wall in front of him: a hard, sharp jab he felt ricocheting up through his arm to his jaw.

"G…" Sam's voice grounded him, and Callen turned once again to look at his partner. Sam was too lethargic to even move, but in the moment their eyes connected, Callen saw a glimpse of concern briefly flicker and die in the drugged eyes. He felt a tidal wave of emotion threatening to over-power him and he fought hard to keep his feelings under control. Losing it wasn't going to help either of them. He curled and uncurled the fingers of his right hand, wincing at the abrasive effects the cell wall had had on his knuckles. Taking a deep breath, he held Sam's gaze, and nodded.

"I'm good," he finally said.

Silence took over once more, but eventually Sam spoke again.

"I'm not helping you," he said, slowly, and Callen got the distinct impression Sam had been planning this speech for a while. He carried on talking over Callen's grunt of disapproval. "You should forget about me. Get yourself out."

"Don't be ridiculous," Callen said firmly. "That's the drugs talking, and you know it. There's only one way out of this, and that's with both of us leaving here together." Sam made a dismissive flap with his hand. "I mean it, Sam! Kam and Aiden, they've already lost their mum. Do you think I'm going to let them lose their dad too, just to save my own skin? Don't be stupid." Callen felt a hint of guilt bringing Sam's children into it, but maybe his partner needed reminding what he still had to live for. Sam was silent for a long time.

"Is there a plan then?" he eventually asked, but there was no hope in his words.

"Sort of," Callen admitted.

"Want to share?"

Oh, how Callen rejoiced to hear those words. He realised how desperate he had been to have his partner back – not just here and now in the grey cell, but for the past few months. Work simply hadn't been the same. They worked well together, completed each other, as Sam had said once. He didn't doubt for a second that Sam's casual words were a sudden end to his partner's ostracization – but it was a spark, a start. An interest in his own survival. Better than nothing.

"They're fanatics," Callen started. "Environmental fanatics. This isn't about power, or money, or even about Volkov, save for the fact he is the CEO of the company. He – his company – has plans in place for a new oil pipeline that will cut through some sacred area these fanatics are, well, fanatical about." He watched Sam try to process the information, trying not to show the elation he felt as Sam fumbled to sit up so they could talk better.

"How….?" Sam paused, taking a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, his wit. He hadn't really cared when Callen first hinted there was a plan, but now, deep down inside him, he felt a small stirring of an inner fire he'd thought had long since been extinguished. Michelle was gone, there was no changing that. But maybe there was still a future without her. If nothing else, he owed it to his children to provide a life for them, be the best half a parenting team that he could. Above all, keep them safe. He needed to be alive to do that.

"How is that relevant?" Callen completed Sam's question for him. Sam nodded, and settled as comfortably as he could on the concrete bench. Callen sat cross-legged on the floor in the centre of the cell, as close to Sam as his chain allowed. "With Volkov out of the picture, the second in command of the company is sympathetic with this crazy group's ideals," Callen continued.

"So that's why it has to look like an accident," Sam affirmed, and Callen nodded. He couldn't hide his relief that after the many days of drugs Sam's perception was not totally gone.

"If his death is put down to an unfortunate accident, natural causes, whatever… the second in command can take control of the company, steer it in a different direction. No new pipeline, no deforestation; peace - in the eyes of the environmental extremists - will be restored." Callen rolled his eyes.

"It seems a crazy plan," Sam muttered. Callen almost laughed.

"They're fanatics, Sam. It's in the job description. Remember DNA and the cyanide? Not so very different."

Sam sighed. Callen had been lucky not to lose his life to the cyanide; lucky, and prepared, with his full team for back up when he needed it. Not cut off, like this, with Sam a metaphorical millstone round his neck, restrained and useless, here only as leverage to keep Callen under control. He looked worriedly at his partner, sitting there calmly on the cold grey floor, and shook his head with weary sorrow. "How the hell are you going to pull this one off?"