A/N - Finally happy with this one after a lot of little tweaking over the last couple of days.

Hawk - Thanks. Bombshells are never dropped at a good time, but now it's time to see how she responds.

Hope you all enjoy.

Note that italics are flashbacks (not including this author note), and there are a couple of different changes to POV but I think it's clear who it's from as you read it so I haven't made any notes pointing to that so as not to distract from the flow of the story.

CHAPTER 10

"Fi!"

She heard his voice and her legs moved faster. She felt the brush of the long grass against her legs and knees, the occasional scratch from a stem or leaf, a sharp stone under her bare foot slicing into it. She ignored it all and didn't stop running.

"Grisha!" She screamed. "It's a wolf!"

She almost ran into him when she reached the edge of the meadow. Her heart pounding in her chest, fear almost overwhelming her. She'd never been chased by one before. They'd always stayed away, watched her but never came close.

"Fi, it's okay. There's nothing there." Somehow Grisha held them upright as her momentum threatened to tumble them both to the ground.

"But..." She turned around and looked the way she had come. There was no sign of the wolf in the field behind her.

"It was. I swear there was one," she sobbed. She turned back to him and stared into his gentle blue eyes. She felt the hot tears fall down her cheeks, her heart was still pounding, her breath coming in harsh bursts.

"You're safe, Fi. You're safe." His arms wrapped around her and she clung to him.

Oh yes. As small as those arms were she knew she was safe. She would always be safe with him.

Felicity opened her eyes to see his eyes, Grisha's eyes. But it wasn't possible. He was dead. A small shred of doubt started to form and with it a spark of hope. Wasn't he? Then she registered the safety of the arms. So very safe.

"No," she whispered. "My Grisha is dead." The pain flooded through her that had always been there when she thought of her friend's death. "They killed him. Him, his sister, his mother. They killed them all." A flash of a woman, a beach and a gun, but it didn't last long enough to make sense of.

"Only my mother," he told her.

The woman? His mother? The vision didn't stay long enough to be able to identify who the woman had been.

Felicity shifted out of his arms and moved just a fraction away from him on the couch she was now on. She couldn't think clearly. Hope, pain, confusion mingled together within her. There were too many images firing through her mind to make sense of any of them; a mix of her own and others - his she assumed, whoever he was.

Was he Grisha? She didn't want to let her heart hope that her friend hadn't met such a horrible fate. If she did and he wasn't then she'd feel it so much worse. Strangely the small shift away from him caused a physical ache in the vicinity of her heart. His arms dropped and gave her space but he didn't move. The images cleared and she was able to identify the pain - loss. Loss of security and safety, and a feeling of being alone again. Being in his arms felt so safe. Like when she thought the wolf still after her. Like Grisha's little arms had felt oh so long ago.

She lifted her gaze and stared into his eyes. "You can't be ... can you?" The blue, the gentleness, so familiar but from when? Their night together or another time and place? Grisha's eyes? Could he be him? The spark flared a little more.

Maybe. The eyes were so like his. Older, more world weary but still. If she was brave she would be able to tell. All she had to do was look deep through those eyes to his soul. It took a lot for a soul to change. She would know for sure in just a moment. But she wasn't brave enough, not after last time. She'd have to find another way to be sure.

She reached out and touched his cheek, rested her trembling fingers against it. "Grisha?" The name fell softly from her lips and she let her fingers gently stroke his cheek. Rough but maybe. A familiarity she couldn't be certain didn't simply come from their night together. But then she could almost see the little boy she once knew in him.

She watched his eyes close, his head tilt into her hand and felt his breath drift over her fingers.

"Grisha, it's okay." The little girl touched his cheek. "We can get more," she told him in a soft reassuring voice that fitted her so well.

Grisha looked down at the ruined flowers that had fallen into the mud when he had tripped. Once beautiful, now crushed and muddy. He'd been happy, excited. It was the first time he'd picked flowers for his mother since they'd arrived. He so wanted to see his mother smile again. It felt like forever since she had. The little girl held out her hand and he placed his in hers. His friend already, even though they'd only known each other a few days. He trusted her. He stood up and she led him back toward the field of flowers again.

Felicity waited and when his eyes opened he looked shocked. His next words were uttered barely above a whisper. "You took me to pick flowers for my mother." He lifted his hand and covered hers that was still on his cheek.

Her eyes went wide. Her heart skipped a beat, or maybe more. Her breath stuttered.

"I fell," he continued his voice stronger even with a shine hinted at in his eyes. "They got ruined in the mud. You touched my cheek like this and said we could get more."

A sob fell from her lips. No one else had been there, just the two of them. Is it possible he was right here in front of her? Alive? That spark became a flame.

"Who are you?" he asked her. "What is your name?"

"Felicity." Her reply automatic, ingrained into her for so long to answer to the name she'd given whoever she was with.

He shook his head. "Not that one."

Her heart pounded and her throat constricted. Fear responses normally, but not this time. This time it was something else. Hope maybe. Anticipation. Freedom.

He said she was safe. She knew in the depths of her own soul that she was safe with him. She'd felt the safety in his arms just now just like she had the night they'd spent together. She never would've gone with him if she hadn't, no matter how strong the attraction had been.

The Comescu's used fear to control people. They weren't to be trusted. Could they have lied?

He said they were gone, that she didn't have to fear them anymore.

If she wasn't brave enough to trust herself to look into his soul, her heart was all that she had left. Her heart told her to trust him. Her hand was still held to his cheek by his, neither having broken the connection it created.

"Sofia," she whispered. For the first time since they'd fled from their home she finally said her name. "Sofia Elena-Maria." Oh how wonderful it was to say her mother's name again. "Antoneanu."

The little girl was running next to him, smiling as they jumped over a log. He smiled back just before she sped off into a field of flowers. She was fast. "Fi!" he called out as he tried to catch her. "Wait." How could someone so small be so quick?

"Come on Grisha," she called to him over her shoulder. "I want to get flowers for your mother."

Callen blinked the flash of memory from his eyes and stared at her.

"Fi?" he whispered.

Suddenly she was in his arms.

"It is you," she cried softly.

Callen arms tightened around her. He knew her. He remembered. The feel of her arms around him. But not from the other night but from a long time ago. Little arms around a little body.

Tears filled his eyes, hatred roared through him at what the Comescu's had done to her because of this damn blood feud. So many more people had died because of their revenge than just his family. He knew they were beyond bad. Knew the things they were involved in were truly awful. They'd attempted to take out his entire line after all; had taken delight in wiping them from the earth. Vance and Hetty had told him more, but he hadn't expected this kind of brutality, horror or evil.

She pulled back and cupped his face. Her smile trembled but was bright and brought an unexpected warmth to him. "You … how…?" She stumbled over the words, tears fell, her body shuddered a little.

"Shh," Callen said. "It's okay." He brushed the tears gently from her cheeks.

"How did you get away?"

"I don't remember," he admitted.

"But they said..." She trailed off.

"What?" Callen prompted gently even though he didn't think he wanted to know but he felt she needed to tell someone.

"They sent messages to the other camps. Said that they had killed their enemies. Warned that anyone hiding survivors from ours would meet the same fate we did if they didn't hand us over."

Callen closed his eyes and breathed slowly to help settle the fury he felt. He didn't want her to see it. It wasn't for her and he didn't want her to think for a moment it was. "How did you get here? How did they not find you?" he asked.

"We travelled for weeks, maybe months I'm not sure. We avoided camps the best we could but sometimes we had no choice, especially when it was so cold. Papa was sure those in the camps knew who we were, but we never said our names and they never asked." There as a small flicker of a smile on her lips. "Almost like they liked the idea of getting one over on them. We kept moving, rarely staying anywhere more than a night until Papa finally found a way to bring us here. Even then we moved frequently, no more than two years in one spot. For a while he was always ready to go, spare identity and all, just in case, but they never seemed to come after us. At some point we felt safer and relaxed a little, though I could never stop looking over my shoulder. Never felt safe to stop watching."

"Then your son."

She sighed, closed her eyes nodded. Tears slipped out from beneath her eyelids before she opened them again. "Papa wasn't convinced that it had anything to do with them. I tried to move on, let it go but I was afraid who would be next."

"You divorced to save your husband."

"Yes," she admitted. "I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to him. I thought if we distanced ourselves from him, he'd be safe."

"You loved him."

"In a way. He was a kind, gentle and loving man." She smiled. "A wonderful father. He was safe. I didn't fall in love with him like I dreamed I would, but I did love him."

"Your son's name?"

"Gregory."

"Grisha?"

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I wish. Jonathon chose our son's name. His grandfather's name. It meant a lot to him and I hated that I couldn't tell him why it meant a lot to me too."

Felicity shifted closer. Her gaze caught his and she stared into his eyes. Callen stared back unsure how long she was looking at him. It felt like she was seeing right through him.

"It really is you," she whispered. "Still beautiful and brave, kind and caring." Her hand reached up to his face again. "Though a little lost in this world. A very good soul. Grisha, oh how I've missed you."

"How do you know me? What are you seeing?"

"You. The truth. Your soul."

"How?" Callen asked.

"A gift from my great grandmother. One I have desperately begged to give back along with seeing the past."

"You see the past?" Kensi asked.

Callen jerked. He'd forgotten she was there.

"In a way," Felicity said, her eyes still on him. "My great Grandmother was much better at it. I guess you would've called her, us, a witch or a seer, psychic maybe." She glanced at Kensi. "Or perhaps a charlatan. You're skeptical."

"A little," Kensi replied and Callen noted the gentleness Kensi kept in her voice. A good choice, for once in his search for Felicity, bringing Kensi with him this time.

"You disagree with the kind of man Grisha is?"

"No," Kensi smiled. "You've described him well. But you've been scared of him, thinking he was Comescu. How are you so sure now?"

"Kenz, let it go for now." Felicity didn't need this on top of everything. She could answer questions like that later when the emotion had settled and she'd rested. He could see how tired she was.

"No Grisha." She shook her head and squeezed his hand that Callen wasn't quite sure when she'd taken but it felt comfortable. Right almost. Just like her calling him by his name.

"She's right to question," she said. "When you don't grow up with it it seems strange, mystical, unbelievable. I don't know how I can prove it though."

Kensi didn't say anything else but before Callen could stop the direction of the conversation Felicity, or should that be Sofia, continued.

"I see my past," She dropped her hand and stood up as she spoke. "I feel it as if it were happening for the first time. Memories, emotions, they are so strong, so clear to me. Sometimes I feel it's more a curse than a gift. There are times when I see other people's pasts. I try not to. It's like an invasion of privacy, certainly not something I'd want someone to do to me, but sometimes they just come. It's a gift that has a mind of its own though practice probably would've given me more control. The combination of seeing the truth of someone's soul and their memories is not always a good thing." A shiver went through her and Callen noticed.

"What happened?" Callen asked gently.

"I looked into the eyes of killer and saw his soul. The connection brought images of what he had done." Felicity shuddered and Callen rose to move closer. "I can't forget what I saw and I prefer not to risk it if I have a choice. It's the drawback to these gifts."

Perhaps that was where the other fear had come from earlier when she'd referenced both his hands and his belt as a weapon. Callen couldn't help but wonder how she didn't shudder at what she saw in him. He'd killed too. He'd lost count a long time ago of how many times. But she hadn't reacted badly. Maybe he was a better man than he thought after all.

"Have you seen anything from my past?" The question slipped passed Callen's lips before he could stop it.

Felicity looked up at him. "The other night. When I touched your scars." Her hand reached out and brushed his chest in one of the places that the five bullets had slammed into him. "The ones from the bullets," she continued, "I saw it happen." Callen vaguely remembered something flash across her face, a brief stiffening to her body.

"You were on a corner near the beach, there was a dark blue van, a man with a gun and a hail storm of bullets. White shirt, jeans and a distinct smell of oranges from the fruit stand behind you."

Callen heard Kensi's soft gasp of shock. His heart raced a little and he focused intently on her for any sign of her being afraid of him. "You really saw that?"

She nodded. "I tried not to but it was there so quickly. I'm sorry."

Callen shook his head. "It's okay." He stepped closer, tempted to put his hand on her shoulders but he didn't. He'd leave that up to her to decide if she wanted to make the connection again.

"Do you believe me? That you're safe?" he asked her. "That they're gone?"

She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Yes. Though I wouldn't mind seeing the proof that you mentioned."

Callen glanced at Kensi. "Call Hetty." He looked back at Felicity. He'd stick with that for now and wait for her to decide what name she want to go by. "Time for this fear to end once and for all."

A/N - Question - do you want me to call her Felicity or Sofia from here on?