Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Here's another chapter! Enjoy!

Nell had perused all of the books in the room. She'd flipped through the TV channels, rearranged the magazines on the table by month and year, and was currently disassembling the phone. Unlike her previous antics, however, this time she had a purpose. Once, when she was little, before the divorce, she remembered when her father had left her with her uncle Tommy when he had to go on an errand. The phone had been dead, but Nell had pulled it apart and played with the wires until, miraculously, she'd gotten a dial tone. To entertain herself, she'd called Daddy's cellphone to say hi. He'd come back in a hurry, fearful that she'd electrocute herself. He'd found her trying to order ice cream and Uncle Tommy asleep on the couch while wrestling blared in the background. She hadn't seen Uncle Tommy for a while, and she'd never been left alone with him again. But she'd had fun with the phone that day, and she thought she still remembered how to get it to work.

Now, she was just praying she was right.

Santiago was leaving her alone for the most part. He'd sent in half a pizza and a liter of Coke, but she hadn't had contact with anyone else since they'd taken Callen away.

She missed Callen already. His calming presence had kept her from panicking for all those hours alone. He'd asked her some of the most random questions she'd ever been asked, from what her favorite color was to if she preferred Silly Putty or Play-Doh. It had helped her calm down, and he'd constantly reassured her that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. In a way, he reminded her of her brothers—though he was a bit more legal in his actions.

She peeled the wiring apart like a banana, and smiled. If only Eric could see her now.

Eric. She missed him. She wished he was here. He was goofy and a bit of a dork, but that was what Nell loved about him. He was innocent and sweet. He didn't pester her about her past, he remembered her birthday, and he was her best friend.

I should have told him the truth, she thought suddenly, biting her lower lip. She'd wanted to tell him the truth ever since he'd met her mother via webcam, that Christmas they'd worked late. He'd met her father, too, though she wasn't sure he'd known at the time that that was who he was. She'd wanted to tell him more than she'd wanted to tell anyone else anything. When I get out of this, I'm going to talk to him, she vowed. A grim smile flitted across her face. "When". Her determination had returned.

So much for the scared, frightened Nell that had walked in. It was time to fight back and show them what Nell Jones-Swinton was made of.

Callen looked at the building.

"You want me to break into there?" he asked incredulously. "There's a night shift."

"Here," said the man beside him, handing him a gun. "Use this."

Callen stared at it, reluctantly taking it and shoving it into his waistband.

"So the files are on the sixth floor?" he asked, studying the diagram that Santiago had given him. "And Santiago expects me to blast my way there?"

"Si, they are on the sixth floor. And if you are as good as people say, you will not have to use a bullet," the man reasoned with a shrug. "We will be waiting. Do not try anything. We have all of the phones tapped. If you try to get help, we will know."

Callen nodded and exited the van, hurrying toward the building. Through the glass doors out front, he could see a young woman behind the receptionist's desk. He took a deep breath. He was going to have to put on his best performance yet—for Nell's sake.

"It's quarter after the deadline," Kensi said. "What do we do?"

"Anything on that trace, Mr. Beale?" Swinton asked.

"No," Eric gritted out, glaring at the computer as if it had betrayed him. "Still looking, though."

"I'll call Sam and update him," Deeks volunteered.

Kensi nodded and watched him leave before turning to Swinton.

"You seem calm," she said after studying him a moment.

"It's a mask," he assured her. "I'm planning our next move."

Kensi raised an eyebrow.

"'Our'?" she repeated.

"We have the same goal in mind," Swinton reasoned. "We're both willing to do whatever is necessary to protect the ones we love. Your way just has a bit more paperwork."

"And is legal," Kensi added.

Swinton smirked.

"Details," he said flippantly, causing Kensi to smile despite her best efforts.

"Look who I found," Deeks announced, returning with Sam in tow.

"Find out anything?" Kensi asked, standing.

"Nah, just talked to a woman who knew Nell back in New York," Sam explained, looking extremely drained. "It seems like the Swintons got them out of a jam a few years back."

"Senora Hernandez," Swinton said with a nod. "How's Wendy doing?"

"Seemed fine," Sam answered, plopping down beside Kensi. "Any reason as to why their phone number would be in Nell's file?"

Swinton looked thoughtful.

"They were pretty close," he suggested. "Maybe that'd have something-!"

His phone suddenly trilled, cutting off any further conversation. He grabbed it, hitting the answer phone and the speaker button. "This is Swinton."

"Dad?"

"Nell!" Kensi cried, leaning across the table. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," Nell answered in a hushed voice. "I can't talk too loudly—someone might overhear. Someone quick, write this down: 4332 West Haven Street. That's where I am."

The address was scrawled down on napkins, skin, and a few Starbucks cups by half the people in the room. Swinton snapped his fingers and three men started to pull on their jackets.

"OK, kid," Swinton said. "We've got the address written down and we've got people on the way."

"Did you snag a phone?" Deeks asked.

"No. I rewired the dead one in the room," Nell answered.

"That's my girl," Swinton praised her.

"Yeah, Daddy," his daughter answered. "Are you here yet?"

Kensi exchanged panicked looks with Swinton.

"No," she said tensely. "Why?"

Nell sucked in a breath and in the background, they heard the door burst open.

"DADDY!" Nell screamed. There was the sound of a struggle and then the line went dead.

Chills went up Kensi's spine as silence, broken only by the dial tone, filled the room.

"Sir?" one of Swinton's men asked, his jacket halfway zipped up.

Kensi looked at Swinton, whose expression had gone stony.

"Call the boys."