Author's Note: I'm still alive! And actively working on this story. The alerts/favorites I've been getting have given me more motivation than ever to finish. I hate all unfinished stories, my own included, so I swear never to do that to anyone reading my stories.

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"Ms. Jones!" Hetty said sharply, causing Nell to spin in her chair, and knock over the glass of water near her elbow. A drink she wasn't supposed to have in ops, never mind near the computer equipment. She watched in detached horror as it saturated her entire keyboard. Maybe Hetty wouldn't notice.

She glanced up to see Hetty staring at the growing puddle as it dripped off the counter onto the floor. Alright, so she'd never been unobservant.

An uneasy silence followed. Nell wasn't in the mood to grovel – one of the side effects of nearly dying, most likely. "Can I help you?" She asked, as if her drink weren't soaking valuable equipment. Oh hell, it was just a keyboard anyways. She'd make Eric get her another from storage. Maybe she wouldn't even bother with that and just take his.

"I think it's time you called it a night," Hetty said. It wasn't a request.

"But I'm busy," Nell argued anyway. She looked around the room which was completely devoid of personnel. "Um…I have to clean up this water."

"It's one in the morning," Hetty said disapprovingly. "I allowed you to return to work under the strict condition that you didn't let finding James Walsh consume you. It does not appear as if you've followed that order."

"Hetty, I'm close," Nell insisted. "I can feel it. If you just –"

"Tomorrow is another day, Ms. Jones." Hetty came closer, placing her hand on Nell's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "He's already taken so much from you. Don't let him steal this, too."

Nell knew when she was facing an argument she wouldn't win. "Alright, I'll head out."

"Good," Hetty nodded and started to leave. At the door, she glanced back. "And do talk to Agent Callen, please. He's driving everyone crazy."

"I talk to him all the time," Nell said, feigning confusion. She knew exactly what Hetty meant. While she had no problem discussing Walsh with him, she'd been avoiding Callen on a personal level for weeks.

"You're punishing him for something that isn't his fault," Hetty said softly.

Nell shook her head. Hetty did not get to pretend as if she had played no part in Nell's decision. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who was against us engaging in any type of personal relationship. You punished us when you merely suspected it, in fact."

"You will learn, with time, Ms. Jones, that everyone is capable of mistakes. Even those we think are infallible. You and Mr. Callen both see me that way, which makes it impossible for you to see when I've made an error in judgment."

"Don't do this to me," Nell said, because she'd been coming to terms with her decision, as painful as it might be, and now Hetty was ripping open the wound, even rubbing in salt as if to spite her.

"I apologize for the way I've acted," Hetty went on, as if she couldn't see how upset Nell was becoming. More likely, she did see it, and it reaffirmed her stance. "I thought the two of you together would be detrimental to you both. Now that I've seen you apart…well, I realize that you each might be what the other needs to keep going."

Nell turned away, making a show of attempting to clean up her spilled water with one of Eric's discarded sweatshirts. "Don't put the blame for this on me," she said tightly. "I'm only doing what was originally asked of me, and it makes perfect sense after many hours of serious thought. We work well together, but allowing it to become serious on a personal level only puts both of us in danger."

"Have you seen Mr. Callen lately?" Hetty asked. "He's so on edge that I think if Walsh surfaces, he's going to try and take him down alone. He has no regard for his own safety anymore. And you look as if you haven't slept in days. How are you keeping it together?"

I'm not, Nell wanted to say, because she was dying a little bit more each day. "I'm doing alright," is what she managed to say, instead.

"If you're going to lie," Hetty replied, "at least do us both the favor of keeping it believable."

When Nell turned to respond, Hetty was gone. She closed her laptop in defeat.

The topic of her and Callen was one which made her equal parts furious and…sad. She'd been avoiding him for weeks. It had helped that he was working tirelessly (like all of them) to find any lead that would bring them to James Walsh. He'd tried talking to her, and she rebuffed him at every opportunity. The last thing they needed was the complication of personal feelings when they were in the middle of a case trying to find the man who had abducted her. Callen seemed to understand – at the very least, he'd taken to leaving her alone.

She would have been impressed with her resolve, if not for the fact that she missed him. Terribly. And she had only herself to blame for that.

It was enough to make her wonder, alone at night, if she'd thrown away the best thing she'd ever (almost) had.

She hated her apartment now. She'd stepped inside three weeks ago, realized instantly that she couldn't be there anymore, gathered a few essential items, and walked back out.

She was staying at a hotel. Not that she could really afford to live there indefinitely, but her parents kept sending her money, probably a side effect from her nearly dying and the fact that they had no idea what to do about it to make her or themselves feel better. They wouldn't stop, no matter how much she said she didn't want it or need it. And once she'd decided she couldn't be in her apartment anymore, she'd decided she may as well put it to use, since they wouldn't take it back.

Everyone asked how she was. She wasn't too positive or negative, settling for a middle ground along the lines of "getting better" because she'd found it was the perfect answer to dissuade further questions.

No one knew where she was living, save for the security detail she'd vehemently protested, but which refused to leave her. She hadn't bothered talking about it with anyone. What was there to say? That she was too uncomfortable in her own home to ever go back? It sounded pathetic. She hated thinking it, never mind admitting it to someone else. Especially to the people she worked with, people who were much stronger than her. What if they thought less of her? They'd never admit it, but even she thought less of herself for her weakness.

So she spent every day at work tracking down leads, and when someone suggested she finally retire for the night, she went back to her hotel. She never saw those who were following her every move, but she knew they were there – Callen never would have left her alone for a second if they weren't.

Work was good, it was easy. It allowed her to focus and remember who she was in a way that nothing else did.

Well, almost nothing else.

Her phone rang, and she jumped, because no one called at 3 am if it wasn't something important.

When she saw it was Callen, she debated ignoring it, but most of her wanted to know what he had to say. "Hi?" She cursed herself for making it sound like a question.

"Hey, open the door."

Nell shook her head. He was going to figure out she wasn't at home, and that would lead to more questions and conversations she simply didn't want to have. "I…can't."

"I can talk you through it," damn him, he sounded amused. "Walk over and unlock the deadbolt. Then turn the knob. Then, if you just pull it toward you –"

"You think you're hysterical, don't you?" She asked, finding herself drawn back to the place they always were, and missing him with a hurt she had been ignoring for weeks.

"I have my moments." He was smiling, she could tell.

She waited a beat, pressing the phone to her forehead and sighing. "I can't," she repeated. "I'm not there."

"Is that some kind of existential statement?"

"No, it's quite literal."

"Just open the door."

"I'm not at home right now," she hedged, thinking of a half dozen scenarios he might find plausible. She had run out to get dinner, or was tracking down leads, or had a date. No, better stick with something possible. Something vague. "I'm out...having…a social life." She cringed, thinking such awkwardness was probably the very reason why she did not have more of a social life. Not that Callen had to know that.

He laughed. He actually laughed, as if it were impossible she could be out. In the world. With other people.

"It's not impossible," she said tightly.

"I'm not laughing at – Nell, please." He sounded contrite. "I only want to see you."

"That's too bad," she said, still stung from his laughter as she walked to the door. "Because there's no way you…" she trailed off as she saw him through the peephole. This was ridiculous. She flung the door open solely so he would feel the full effect of her glare. "I booked this room under a false name, and from a secure web server not even associated with NCIS!" There was always the possibility that someone from her security detail had informed Callen of her whereabouts, but knowing him it was far more likely that he'd tracked her down on his own, solely because he wanted to.

The look he gave her said more than words, reminding her she'd forgotten who she was dealing with. It was a rare thing in her life to be matched or even surpassed. Callen had been meeting her every step of the way for a long time now, and she'd been nothing more than foolish to think he might not do so this time, too. The only hope she'd had was if he hadn't bothered trying in the first place.

"Nice room," he said, walking past her and glancing around. "In a nice hotel…you have expensive taste."

She could have replied with any number of smart comebacks, but found herself replying with brutal honesty instead. "I wanted the security."

He turned to face her in a sharp, sudden movement that left her on edge. "Did you?" He asked, and she was taken aback by the sudden hostility in his voice.

"I…yes," she said, confused. From the hardness in his eyes, she could tell this was it – he was going to push it, demand answers, and she didn't know if she was terrified or thrilled.

"Security…" he said, tapping his fist lightly on the wall as if testing the structural integrity. Hell, maybe he was. "Security that you couldn't find with me."

She was surprised. Is that what he thought? "This has nothing to do with you. And if you hadn't noticed, there's an entire team of people in this hotel dedicated to tracking my every move and keeping me safe."

He took a deep breath, and she wanted to cry because she knew he was trying to remain calm for her sake. "I don't care about them. We both know you could evade them at the slightest moment if you wanted to. The fact is that you're hiding from our whole team here…hiding from me. You're working yourself to death and avoiding me at every turn. That has everything to do with me."

He was right, in a way. The very reason she hadn't opened up to him was because of the way she felt for him. But not for the reasons he seemed to think. There wasn't a lack of trust, just a lack of willingness on her part to drag him into something for all the wrong reasons.

"Relationships –" she cringed, because simply saying the word carried all kinds of connotations that he might not appreciate. But she had no better word. "– that begin under stressful circumstances are notoriously…" She shut her eyes, because this was hard.

He was watching her carefully, saying nothing, and she decided to start again. "I don't want you to become stuck in something that you didn't…actually…intend to…" She shrugged helplessly. "I thought if we waited until things had settled, until Walsh was caught, then we could reevaluate without all the pressure. Without…"

"I know you aren't trying to tell me how I feel about you, or why."

Actually, she kind of was. Which they both very well knew.

Her frustration led to the only available outlet: unjustified anger. "I'm trying to do what's best for both of us, and you with your questions and demands and – and – feelings," she spat as if the word were distasteful, "aren't helping!"

He took another step toward her. "Maybe I'm not trying to help you," he countered, quietly.

Well damn, what was she supposed to make of that? "I don't understand."

"I refuse to help you talk your way out of this," he said vehemently, and moved forward so that her back was pressed against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of her, effectively boxing her in, giving her no physical options in order to make her think that, emotionally, she had no options either. He wasn't the only one aware of intimidation techniques.

She slammed her heel down on his foot, simply to make a point. He winced, but to his credit, he didn't move either. "Damn it, Nell. That hurt."

She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. "Good," she said succinctly, crossing her arms. "I could do so much worse," she added in a whisper. The threat was physical, but he understood what else she was saying.

"Do you get how amazing it is that you are the one warning me about being hurt? By all rights, it should be the other way around. I do have the advantage, here."

"One hit and you'd be down, Agent Callen," she said calmly, and now she was only speaking physically, because she thought she saw too much amusement in him to let it go.

He leaned in closer, until his words were barely a whisper along her temple. "I dare you."

She stood up on her tiptoes, inching closer to him and shutting her eyes. Her lips had barely touched his when she lashed out, aiming for his solar plexus. She almost had him, but he realized in the last split second what she intended, and just barely blocked her move by grabbing her wrist and spinning her around, pinning her again, this time facing away from him. "Jesus, Nell, you're tough."

She bent just so and kicked backwards at his leg, forcing him to release his hold on her and back away to avoid injury. She increased the distance between them a little bit more. "I'm an NCIS agent."

"Believe me, I haven't forgotten."

"Haven't you?" She asked, the subtext clear. A relationship between them could cause all kinds of problems. Problems of the kind they weren't equipped to deal with. Problems that might not be worth the hassle, the paperwork, the reactions from co-workers, the threats of reassignment. Not to mention how it would change the way they worked together, how they reacted if the other were in danger. It – they – could be a liability to each other.

This was what she'd been avoiding for the past few weeks. This very conversation. The terrifying and very real possibility that it would go exactly the way she didn't want it to go: that everything she had, everything she was, and was willing to give, would be summarily evaluated and dismissed as lacking.

He interrupted her discouraging line of thought. "I would never ask you to be anyone other than who you are."

"What if this…" she couldn't quite say I'm, "…isn't enough?"

"Enough of what? Enough for what?" He sounded genuinely concerned. "The only thing I'm asking for here is you."

He truly didn't get it. She was almost at the point that she didn't want to argue it any further. It would be easy to give in, to give up, but that had never been in her nature.

"It's still a bad idea, you know. I don't think it's worth it, at least not now. Hetty was right. Whatever this is, it would probably end badly. We'll most likely regret it. I'm not saying this to be hurtful, I'm being practical. I've had some time to think on it, and I really think we should focus on Walsh instead of…us. He's the priority."

Callen walked over to the window that looked out onto the city. She waited a few minutes, trying to remain patient, not knowing whether she wanted him to agree with her or not. She was doing her best to talk him out of this. She had a hundred valid reasons for that, but God help her, she hated every single one of them.

She was about to demand a response when he turned back around, face blank. "You're right."

"Oh," she said, rather ineloquently. "Well…I know."

"It's not worth the potential problems that could arise," he said, nodding. "I'm glad you talked some sense into me."

"Right, yeah," she said, dazed. She really had never thought about what might happen if he agreed with her. In fact, she'd expected him to fight her tooth and nail. She had no idea where to go now. "Maybe after everything's over, and we've caught Walsh, then…" she cursed herself for sounding hopeful, even as he was shaking his head.

"No, you make perfect sense. Does it really matter what case we're working on? No matter what, from now on, it will make things more difficult. Complications will arise, it'll be…what did you say? Not worth it. Yes, those were your words."

"Did I say that?" She asked numbly. She didn't remember saying that.

"Yup, you're not worth it, I see that now."

Nell saw red. "You son of a bitch," she whispered.

"Isn't this what you want? Why aren't you celebrating? Didn't you want to talk me out of wanting to be with you? You won."

She stepped forward, maybe to hit him, or pull him closer, she honestly couldn't say. Whatever she wanted, she'd never know, because he grabbed her wrists the second she was in his personal space and successfully restricted all her movement.

"You must think very little of me," he hissed, "if you believe that I'd allow you to talk me out of every feeling, every thought and intention and desire I've ever had for you."

"I'm trying to protect us," she said, voice rising because she'd had time to think about it, away from the emotionally volatile place she'd been in right after her abduction. Which wasn't to say she still wasn't emotionally fragile, but she saw things with a clarity she'd either ignorantly or intentionally chosen to ignore before. She knew she was right, and he had to know it, too. "Our professional relationship, our place in NCIS, this could ruin everything."

"No, it couldn't," he argued, "I wouldn't let it."

"You are too smart to believe that," she insisted. "I know you are."

"Fine!" He exploded. "It could very well ruin everything, is that what you want to hear? It might destroy our jobs, but you know what? I don't care, because I'm willing to give up NCIS, but I'm not willing to give up you!"

The fight left her at his words, and it didn't matter whether he'd meant to say them or not. He was still holding onto her, somewhat desperately, and she twisted her wrists to get him to relinquish his grip. "You don't mean that. You will not give up your career for me."

"No, I'm not, I'm simply saying that if it's a casualty of us, then I don't care. Because you mean more to me than NCIS."

"Liar," she whispered, because she couldn't mean that much to him. She didn't know how to deal with the responsibility of that.

"I am," he said, "but not about this."

She shook her head. She would not accept the weight of such a decision. She would do whatever it took to get him to see that. "I don't love you."

"Who's the liar now?"

"I don't," she insisted.

"Liar."

"No," she argued, shoving him backwards as hard as she could. She caught him by surprise, and he moved back a few feet. "Don't give up your life because of me."

"I'm not giving up anything," he swore, stepping back into her space again. "Not my job, and certainly not you."

She pushed him again out of sheer frustration. "I won't do this."

He stepped forward yet again. "I think we both know it's too late for that."

She reached out to shove him back and he side-stepped her, swearing. "Stop pushing me! Why are you so violent?"

"Because you won't listen to me!" She cried in frustration.

"On the contrary, I'm listening perfectly well, to all the things you aren't saying."

She recognized when she was on the losing side of a battle, but she tried, one last time, to prove her point. She put her hands on him, without any force, and he obediently backed up a few steps. "I didn't push you away that time," she said, warily.

"You didn't have to," he replied. Upon seeing her confusion, he moved forward carefully, until he saw that she was fine with it. "I don't intend to force you to do anything you don't want to do. But that doesn't mean I won't keep trying to get you to see my way, even it takes me days, weeks, months –"

"Decades?" She interrupted.

"I wasn't planning that far, but okay."

She kissed him, because it was either that or cry. He matched her perfectly, and when her back hit the wall, she barely noticed. And when he tilted his head, cupping the back of her neck and deepening the kiss to a place where he was saying without as many words that she completely belonged to him, she couldn't believe she'd tried to talk him out of this.

He broke away to kiss his way down her neck, and she had no complaints until he paused to breathe "I win" against her skin. And really, she couldn't be blamed for not letting that stand.

"Ow," he complained, rubbing his side where she'd pinched him.

"Sorry," she tried (and failed miserably) to sound innocent. "Did that hurt?"

"Now you're asking for it," he growled, as she backed away, laughing.

The next time she hit the wall, it was because she wanted it as much as he did.

XXXXXX

A phone vibrating next to her ear woke Nell from a very pleasant dream. She irritably hit the button to answer. "What?" She said, none too happily. She hated waking up, and she always made it a point to make the person who woke her suffer.

There was a silence on the other end of the phone that lasted too long. By the time she recognized something was off, Sam's voice was saying, "Well, this isn't Callen."

She hastily tossed the phone in Callen's direction. Unfortunately for him, he was asleep, and it hit him in the head.

"Are you serious, Nell?" He asked, rubbing his forehead as she mouthed her apologies and he fumbled for the phone. Sam was talking to no one on the other end.

He caught the tail end of Sam's last question. "– good night?"

"Best night," Callen corrected, throwing an arm over Nell as she tried to slide out of the bed in horror at the fact that she'd answered his phone and given everything away. She was turning quite the shade of red, and Callen winked at her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm pretty sure is the mortification of our favorite analyst," Sam was saying, "but you two have to come in. We got a lead on Walsh."

"Where?"

"Just come in, it can wait 'til you two get here." Callen didn't know about that, but he trusted his partner not to steer him wrong, and ended the call.

Nell was once again trying to slip out of bed. He leaned over to stop her progress and kiss her good morning. "Want a job as my personal answering service? You do it so well."

"Shut up," she muttered, embarrassed. "I thought it was my phone. What did Sam want?"

"Walsh," he said, resting his forehead against hers when he felt her tense. "A lead, he wouldn't say more, wants us to come in."

"That's what we wanted, right?" She hated that she didn't sound as sure as she meant to.

He leaned down to kiss her near her ear, and the next words were barely audible, but she heard them as if he were yelling in a silent room. "I'll kill him for you. Is that what you want?"

In answer, she kissed him, because she couldn't quite bring herself to say no.

XXXXXX

I'm so close to finished, I promise.