Dots, chapter 10

A/N: Thank you again, all of you, for reading and reviewing the ninth chapter of this story. It took a while to update, because yeah, hurray, been away for some days and still feel like I'm in a relax-modus ;-)

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Good Samaritan Hospital, fourth floor || 07.15 PM

This time, all sounded quiet from the outside of the cubicle which was his partners private place for these days. Too quiet. For a while it worried the large man, so Sam's arm went behind his back to have his gun close at hand, just in case…

Carefully, he opened the door.

He felt how his shoulders relaxed when he saw how his partner sat as upright as possible, wearing in-ear headphones and reading a book.

Callen looked up and smiled as he got the headphones off. "Thought you forgot all about me, partner. Was about to go out and see my way to your place."

The bantering never left and Sam was grateful for it. He shook his head and raised his brows. "Nêh, no way I forgot about you! But I thought Michelle might be around already. She made you a special casserole."
He then laughed out loud when he noticed the look of despair on Callen's face.

"Kidding, G, I was just kidding."

"Don't… What if Michelle ever finds out?"

Sam chuckled as a reply. "Bet you're far too sissy to tell her."

The smirk on Calen's face made him doubt it all of a sudden, and Sam changed the subject. "So, how're you doing?"

He shrugged and slowly nodded. "Not that bad."

As ever he kept the frustration close to the chest. It was true – things could have turned out ever so much worse. On the other hand, Callen was annoyed, and restless. He was unable to do what he was best at – work. Not only annoyance bothered him, there were worries too. What if his right hand would not heal properly — would he ever be able to work in the field?
And hadn't Sam told him earlier that day that he wanted to discuss some recent information with 'the others' first? The others… his co-workers too, but since he was here, hospitalized, they were not working together. Sam was here as a friend, and hell, he appreciated that. Still, Callen figured he would be better off working with 'the others', with his team. He felt left out but he decided earlier that day that he was not going to show it.

Then, there was Anna…
Callen left several messages on her cell. She answered only once, telling him she'd drop by soon and that she was about to take some time off to relax at some fancy Russian spa she, or her father, Arkady, had just found.
Had he done something which embarrassed her? Did she think he was too boring, or too old, for her way of living?
Come to think of it, hadn't he been the one who figured out that perhaps her lifestyle didn't really suit him? Never mind the sex, which was passionate and often wild —there had been lots of moments of disagreements. About work, about friends, about long nights, partying with people that were half his age… He heaved a deep sigh.

"That bad?" Sam asked, softer than before. He sensed there were things Callen was not going to share.

"Dunno," Callen confessed. "That hand is bothering me. A physical trainer came by earlier today and mentioned that it may turn out well though."
He shrugged, not knowing for sure if he believed it or not. "They said it's a good thing I can move my fingers."
He put his elbow on the bed rail in a way his forearm was raised upward and slowly wiggled the tops of his fingers, the only part which stood out from the bandages. "You see?"

"That's great man." Sam wasn't able to hide the relief he felt now he heard that news. No way he wanted any other partner to work with, permanently. Nor did he like the idea to be the team leader.

"About this case…" Callen tried.

"Nothing new about it… No red flags yet. No real clues. Eric and Nell have their systems comparing facts, figures or whatever when it comes to Roberts, Schiller and Blake. There has to be something that links them."

Callen frowned. "Guess so…"

Both men were silent for a while, then Callen said "What did Blake tell you? Did he have a reason to work alone?"

"He didn't confess anything. In fact, he hardly told Deeks and Kensi anything at all," Sam told his partner. "CIA picked him up only half an hour after we had him in the boatshed."

"Seriously… Sam. Why did you let him go? I mean, that guy knows more. Much more. I don't understand. Such an utterly stupid decision!"

He felt the tension building up. The way Callen's blue eyes pierced hard at his friend made that Sam felt he needed to defend the juniors of the team.
"Listen, G. All Kensi and Deeks knew was that Blake attacked the so-called Roberts. That's what they assumed, that's what they wanted to know more of from Blake."

"Sure. You or Hetty should have informed them, yet you didn't."

Sam paused a beat, swallowing back the accusations which hit him hard. He then managed continue softer "Don't blame them, nor us. Listen, G… there's nothing any of us wants more than to have you back with us. Rest assure the others feel the same and will do anything within our power to solve this case."

Callen remained silent.

"Stonewalling won't work." Sam said.
The light discussions which the two of them started was gone completely and he truly detested discussions like this. Never mind the knowledge that Callen was irritated and frustrated; Sam did not like nor really accept the way the other man was insulting his coworkers.
Still, there was no response from the younger agent in charge.

"I came here to share the latest intel, buddy. Instead, you feel like you need to distrust your own team. Listen, Michelle and Kamran await me for a nice and warm family dinner. I told them I'd be home soon, but that I wanted to see you first. But now… you're behaving like a fifteen year old, man."

Callen huffed in reply, but didn't speak.

"Hetty will drop by later. Perhaps you should share your sunny mood with her." He got up from his chair and walked to the door, his shoulders slumped.

"Sam… wait."

He turned to the other man in the hospital bed, who now swallowed back a lump and part of his anger.

"Listen, of course you're working hard. It's just that…"

Sam smiled shortly. He felt sympathy for his friend who hated it to be left out and to be hospitalized. "I get it."

"Do you?"

On the nod which came as a confirmation, Callen slowly shook his head and said "I could have joined you earlier today, shared my thoughts with you, work with you. Instead I'm actually kept locked up in here. Really, this place sucks. The continuous rush of nurses and doctors. Tests they need to have done and I don't even know for which purpose. Needles, medication… I can't stand it. Simply can't stand it."

Sam shook his head and dimples appeared in his cheeks with the smile that lightened up his face. "And so you're trying another escape plan, by begging me to escort you out of here? Man, don't you dare!"

Callen shrugged. "There's hardly any reason to stay in this place any longer. Guess they're letting me go tomorrow morning anyway."

"Therefor, mister Callen, I suggest you have another good night of sleep in here. And as for the plans which you just shared with your partner in here, there's a definite 'no' as an answer."

The tiny woman stood in the door opening and sent a warm smile towards both men. She added "A no it is, Mr. Callen. You, of all people, should know there is a rule when it comes to investigate one's own case. And I intend to keep it like that. So, if any of the physicians decides to let you go, I suggest you will go for an extended sick leave for let's say another week."

He was about to object, but Hetty shook her head and motioned him off. She then repeated "One more week, Mr. Callen. I'm sure you will find someone who will take care of you."

Callen understood it was useless to protest. He knew what she meant, and who, and he decided not to talk about it. Instead, he asked "You found any witnesses yet? Anyone who heard or saw something?"

"Nope. And this, ehm, this Macey Campbell sure knows how to stay under the radar. I visited her publisher earlier this morning." Sam smiled at Callen "Like you suggested too."

"And?"

"Miss Campbell prefers to stay far from the public, apparently. Mr. Hanna paid another visit, to one of the TV studios in town. Again, without any results. All that we know of is that she has her royalties been sent over to a post office in Burbank. There's little we know of her."

"Yet you figure we need her?"

Hetty pursed her lips, then after a second she replied "We're not sure whether or not we need Macey Campbell, Mr. Callen. I seriously doubt it she has anything valuable to share with us."

Callen understood, or at least he thought he did. Then he frowned and agreed "There was little she may have heard. Unless… You remember that Blake wasn't after Roberts, right? I'm pretty sure I told you, yesterday. There was something he mentioned that triggers me; that 'they' could not allow my intervention."

"Wait… so CIA is scared of something you might have found out? About what — the Roberts' case?" Sam asked, curious now.

"Well, well… Now there's something we might focus on tomorrow. Is there anything else, Mr. Callen? Anything you saw, heard?"

He tried hard, but shook his head. "Nothing I can remember, Hetty. Now, about tomorrow…"

She shook her head. "Still a no, Mr. Callen. I do not, and I repeat, I do not want to see you anywhere in or near the office. One week, Mr. Callen. Find some indulgence. Catch some sunshine and take some time to smell the roses." Hetty winked once, expecting he would know exactly what she meant.

There was a soft chuckle from his partner. "Oh boy…"

Callen, on the other hand, managed a smile which never reached his eyes. "Will do my utmost, Hetty."

His friend and his mentor both got up, softly grinning and thinking they arranged it all so well. He heard their mumbling once they left the room, and he shook his head.

After a while, he took the novel he hadn't finished yet.

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April 15th, 10.19 AM || Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles

The large posture of the man she had wished a good night at the hospital exit the day before, sat in the chair opposite of hers. His elbows rested at her desk as he demanded "Why didn't you tell him, Hetty? Sure he's got a right to know…"

She sipped some of the plain rooibos tea, thinking how she could explain this to him. "He'd clutch it and dig into the matter until he would know more of it. Like I mentioned last night, he needs a break."

"I dunno, Hetty. He hasn't mentioned it, but…"

"But?"

Sam scratched his arm, a sign something bothered him. He hesitated for a second. His partner usually was the one with the gut feeling, but this time he experienced it too. "Anna. I don't know, but I've got a feeling there's a break-up coming."

She put her cup down carefully, and was about to reply. Then one of the piercing whistles from the balcony sounded, and Eric motioned that they were expected for a session of new intel.

Nell stood closest to the large screen and, after they came in one by one, she was the one who started to explain. "We're positive that Marcia Schwarz adopted a new identity. Indeed — Macey Campbell."

Eric carried on. "We're not sure though whose decision it was, hers or ICE's. In fact, it was ICE who decided it would be best to keep her 'dead'" – Eric quoted with his fingers – "because they weren't sure who was behind the attack back in 2014."

"We've gone through several witness reports. We've found that two women who were around at the time stated that they heard something about the CIA. Which is odd, since agent Marcia Schwartz never worked for them," Nell added. A bit more excited she said "ICE claim she suffered from a severe memory loss, even when she left hospital. They put her in protected custody, and that is all which was shared so far."

"Which is awesome little," Deeks said.

"And there you are so very right, Mr. Deeks." Hetty commented on his words. "So I checked with someone within ICE, a former fieldworker himself as well. He mentioned that at the time special agent Marcia Schwartz was declared dead, she had been working undercover over three months. Her partner at that time, Pete Jones, was found killed at only half a mile from the scene. Stabbed to dead, like miss Schwartz was about to be, until a sniper decided to use a different modus. And of course I checked with the CIA as well."

She paused, until Nell dared to ask "What about them?"

"That's part of the story which we need to unravel, dear". Hetty angled her face to the things she saw on the screen. Then she slowly shook her head. "Like you mentioned, miss Schwartz never worked for CIA. However, my contact at ICE has some serious doubts about the role CIA had during the time this happened. Even so, it was not something Vanderhilt of ICE wanted to discuss by phone. So, Mr. Hanna, you and I will have a serious discussion with Vanderhilt in the boathouse. Meanwhile, Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks, I suggest the two will check with Miss Jones and Mr. Beale in here if there are any of the witnesses still to be found in town, and if so, you will them a visit and see if there are any files they are willing to share with us."

"Blake is CIA. Shouldn't we see what they want to share of their internal questioning?" Kensi wanted to know.

This time, Hetty heaved a deep sigh. She knew she had to share the information at a given moment today, and she also knew that this elite team she'd gathered would not like to hear it.
"Though as much as I would like to, miss Blye, I'm afraid this won't be possible. You see, earlier this morning, local CIA director Harrison informed director Vance about very delicate matter which CIA prefer to keep within their walls. However, director Vance decided that he could and had to share this information. It turns out, ladies and gentlemen, that the two CIA officers never brought Blake in. The three of them have gone missing."

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April 15th, 10.30 AM || Good Samaritan Hospital

Shrugging himself into a jacket seemed an ordinary movement. Stretching his left arm backwards to put it through the sleeve, however, pulled the stitches of the wound in his side and he flinched a short moment. Callen was grateful for the fact he wore easy Chelsea boots. It meant he did not have to tie shoelaces, which, in his condition, he was not able to do.

Until late last night, Callen hadn't decided what to do yet. But he made a decision, which was partly like Hetty ordered. No going back to the office. He huffed shortly on the unspoken suggestion that Anna would take care of him.
Not very likely.
Callen was not suited to be a family man. Hetty knew about his past and the lack of someone to fall back on. It was the main reason she kept hinting about a relationship with Anna, or earlier, with Joelle. And although he realized that he would be more than welcome in the Hanna house, Callen was aware that Sam would feel embarrassed that he could work on the case while his friend was not allowed to.

If ever Callen had a day off of work, he'd go swimming, or surfing. But in his current condition, surfing wasn't very likely either. Nor would running on the beach be. And he sure wasn't the kind of man to stay at home and watch TV. In fact, he didn't own a TV.

He smiled to himself now he was about to leave the hospital. He was a man with a mission now. In fact, it was because he endured those boring days in a hospital. He'd read, and knew where to go to.

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April 15th, 2.30 PM || Twin Peaks

Looking back, driving a car in his condition was something Callen would in fact describe as quite naïve. Especially the road from San Bernardino to Arrowhead, the Rim of the World highway, had been challenging, notwithstanding the powerful Mercedes motor of the SUV he rented. Driving left-handed only was trying and hard.

The route would've likely taken him about two hours, yet in his condition it took him over two and a half hour. Never mind, it was supposed to be time off and he was in no real hurry. He checked in at the Lake Arrowhead Resort and Spa and decided to start his search after an afternoon coffee.

It was a good thing that in his line of work, describing other persons was essential. He might just as well try with the couple who worked at the reception area.

"I wonder if you know Macey, Macey Campbell?" He tried. "We, ehm, we worked together a while." Callen let his gaze go over the great views on his left, and sighed softly, as if to show these people he felt a bit embarrassed.

The older woman, still taking care of her looks, with salt and pepper colored hair which was cut short, and the nearly white haired man with a well-trimmed short beard, eyed him as an encouragement.

He grabbed the chance. "You see, we were about to meet later this week, in here. I arrived a bit early, as you can see, but I wouldn't even know how to contact her."

Callen paused a beat, then continued. "Macey… Well, she's in her early thirties. Dark blond hair, cut in, how do women call it, layered. And she wears it at shoulder length. Nearly black eyes, high cheekbones, wide mouth…" He practiced during the long and slow drive from the busy Los Angeles traffic to the quiet surroundings in the sierras. "She's a writer," he added.

"Sounds like that shy one from the conference center, don't you think, Joe?" The older woman asked, expecting some confirmation from her husband.

The man narrowed his eyes and brushed his greyish beard several times before he hummed. Then he nodded. "Perhaps. Didn't know she's a writer though. Yet it doesn't really surprise me, to be honest."

"She wears it shorter now than in the past." The woman interrupted. "Her hair, I mean."

"Like I said, Helen. All-in all, yes, I think it could be Macey."

A near hit, Callen figured. He did manage to hide his surprise though. "She lives in town?"

The older couple looked at each other, then both shrugged. "I wouldn't know," the woman said. "You may want to ask around, someone will know. She's a writer, you said?"

Callen nodded. "Quite a good one too. Her editor just sent me over for some special interview. Heard she's not bragging about her career at all."

"Like I said; it could be Macey indeed", the man repeated. "I suggest you ask at the conference center. It's a 10 minutes' drive from here. And y'know how it is, they all know each other."

Callen nodded. "Will do so. Thanks for your help anyway."

He finished his coffee and wondered whether or not he should ask for her in a different part of town. He could wait for tomorrow morning and enjoy his stay in this hotel.

But he decided there was no use waiting, he simply wasn't the kind of person who sat back and enjoy the views.