A.N.: Thank you to all the readers out there, specially to Amjm, countrygirl56, Petunia3116 for their feedback. I love you guys! Thank you for sharing the travel with me :)

Chapter 12

- "Hey guys do you know where G is?"- asked Sam once he got rid of some compromises and could approach the team.

- "He was right there just a moment ago"- commented Eric.

- "I've seen him with Hetty just now, maybe he's accompanying her, she wasn't looking good."

- "I'm going to my place with the kids, the Coronel and Michelle's mum and sister, you're welcome to come, there's food for an army."

- "I don't know Sam, we don't want to intrude…"

- "You're not intruding Kens, I'm inviting you."- insisted Sam.

- "All right then"

- "Good. See you in there. And bring my partner with you; he's not answering his phone." – said Sam departing.

- "So… déjà vu, where the hell is Callen?"- asked Deeks again.

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Once at home, Kamran ran upstairs to change her clothes, she didn't like the black dress her grandma had bought for her. "It's a sad dress that makes me feel even sadder"- she thought. She chose some jeans, a sweater and sneakers and threw the dress on the chair. "Clonck!" It sounded like a stone hit the wood startling her, but nearly at the same time:

- "Kaaaam"- called Aiden.

- "Comiiiiing"

The house was full of people, all good friends mostly coming directly from the burial and some neighbors that where still shocked and asking questions very difficult to answer.

Sam tried by all means to remain calm and to be a good host, but he would have been lost without his team mates. Thanks to Nell's excellent memory able to remember each one choice, Deeks taking charge of the kitchen and Kensi and Aiden serving, everybody had diner.

Eric took advantage of Sam's distraction and sneaking into his friend's computer he reset the alarm system, reinforced the security and verified one by one all the cameras. Feeling better, he joined the others, but not before trying again to phone Hetty and Callen. Something happened and he was afraid.

- "Still no answer?" – asked Nell discretely.

- "How do you know?"

- "Just for the way you look"

- "No news means always good news, right Nell?

- "I hope so, Eric, I hope so."- said the young agent holding her partner hand and wiping a tear off.

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- "Really, Hetty, I feel much better now, I just need some ibuprofen and to sleep for a few hours."- explained Callen opening the fridge on Hetty's kitchen and helping himself a glass of orange juice.

- "Maybe you're feeling better, but that doesn't mean that you're better. For God's sake, one hour ago you barely could walk!"

Callen drank the juice and served another glass.

- "But now I can." – he answered nonchalantly as he swallow two tablets of the medicine and drank some more juice.

- "Mr. Callen… I don't think that is a good idea… when was last time you ate something?"

- "Honestly? I don't remember. What's for dinner…?" – started to ask Callen when suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his belly and he ran out the room.

Hetty's complaints about his stubbornness and the fact that an empty stomach doesn't agree with pills and acid, were drowned out by Callen's heaves coming from the bathroom. Leaning against the corridor wall she heard the flush of the toilet, the water running and then, the big clonk of Callen's fall.

- "Oh bugger!"

Callen had a scare the moment he open his eyes and found Hetty's face at 20 cm of his. He was lying on his back on the big couch of the library. To the throbbing headache, the fever, the dizziness, the stiff and cramped muscles and the hurt at his back he could add an acute pain on his jaw.

- "Arggggg"

- "I know it hurts, my dear, but let me finish the stiches. Two more and you'll be ready."

- "Hetty…"

- "Schhh don't talk now." – she said raising a curve needle scaring Callen even more – "Alfred, please."

- "C'mon kid"- intervened Alfred holding Callen's head, "Don't move; you have a deep cut on your chin that need to be closed."

Callen closed his eyes and tried to remain still when Hetty sewed another stich up.

- "Please… "- he complained in pain.

- "Just one more, promised."

- "It hurts…"

- "I never consider you a whiny Mr. Callen. Hold still."

Trying not to move Callen endured Hetty's ministrations and when she finally placed a white dressing over the wound he tried to sit up.

- "Lay still for a while, you don't want you to get dizzy again, do you?"

- "Please, my back… I can't…"

- "Your rib?"

- "Yeah… I was shot in the back…"

- "Oh Lord, let me help you."

Completely dizzy, struggling to sit up without passing out finally Callen, elbows in knees, managed to hold his head still even while the world spun high speed around him.

- "Try to control your breathing; I can nearly hear your heart from here!"

- "I feel like shit, Hetty"- he confessed weakly.

- "I can see that. You're suffering from a severe dehydration and you need fluids to restore your electrolyte balance. You know what it means."

- "If the word stops spinning, whatever."

Hetty patted Callen's head and went out of the room only to come back some minutes later with an IV in a drip.

-"Shit"- murmured Callen when he felt the needle entering a vein on the back of his right hand.

He was still on the couch, now lying on his stomach after a battle to get rid of the shirt which was literally glued to the open burn on his back. Callen had invested all the remained energy he had in not crying out loud when Alfred removed the fabric from his raw shoulder. The pain let him shaky and completely worn out. He just wanted to sleep and wake up and realize that the last days have been a bad dream. But he had been through enough miseries in his life to know that happy endings only happen in fairy tales. Michelle. Sam. He felt tears on his eyes. No. He couldn't cry. He needed to be the strong one. Damn it. The IV burned.

Hetty could read Callen's thoughts. She knew that he was still trying to come to terms with Michelle's death, that he needed to feel strong and in control for Sam, but she also was aware that physically at this point only is pride and stubbornness were keeping him conscious. Seeing the angry bruise the bullet let and the cuts and burn on his back she wondered how he was able to endure the pain for so long. - "My tough cookie" - she thought with a hint of pride and then injected the content of a syringe in the IV's port. Enough was enough.

- "Hetty…" – called Callen weakly when he realized what Hetty just did.

- "I know, I know: you hate painkillers; but there's no point at suffering and you need to rest. Don't worry it's only a mild sedative to help you to relax."

- "Sam..." –

- "Sam is not going to call tonight and if he does I promise I'll cover for you."

- "…"

- "Schhhhh. Rest now, Mr. Callen, everything is going to be alright."