Angels

His hands fiddle with the little box, no bigger than his palm. He's nervous, he realizes, and by nervous he means borderline terrified. He's not sure why he's doing it. He's a practical man, and sharing what he's about to is completely impractical. In fact, it basically cracks his chest open with the hope that Kensi not going to reach in, snatch his heart, and shatter it to pieces. He's not even sure if it's strange that he's sharing it, or stranger that he wants to.

"Hey."

He looks up and she's there, standing in front of him, her head poked out of her shop door.

"You coming in?"

"I was hoping you could come out."

Her eyebrow wings up, but in a move that he's coming to associate rather comfortably with her, she doesn't ask questions. "I'm going to need an hour to get some paperwork off my desk."

"Want company?"

She holds the door open for him, even buys him a coffee. He tries to sit still, he really does. He thinks normally he probably would, what with her sitting there, hair pulled back so it's out of her way, concentration written in every line of her face. Except he's nervous, and he's not really all that good at sitting still, at being patient, when he's nervous.

"Should I be concerned?" she asks twenty minutes in, like he hasn't been driving her nuts with the constant tapping.

"No," he answers. "It can wait."

She sighs, but it's only exasperation this time. "Callen. What's up?"

He shakes his head. He can't tell her. He just can't. It's a show thing, not a tell thing and he can see the indecision in her eyes for a split second before her face turns grim and determined. "Okay. Let's go."

And God, that's another thing he's not used to. There's a way she's been throwing herself into his trust and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's not used to this much trust placed into his hands and while part of him thinks it's beautiful, it's also terrifying.

He's silent in the car, but it's not an awkward one. She hums to herself, barely loud enough to hear as she looks out the window, as she watches the scenery pass. It's strangely comforting considering how anxious he feels and he feels his heart-rate slow. It's the calmest he's been for this particular tradition.

She does look at him when they pull into the parking lot. "A graveyard?"

The anxiety does come back then, and he finds himself sliding his hand into his pocket and the black box he'd hidden away. "My sister's here."

To her credit, she doesn't immediately ask questions. She does slip her hand into his when they meet at the hood of the car, and keeps an easy pace with him as he leads her to Hannah's grave. She stands close when they stop, as he tries to gather himself for the next step.

"What was she like?"

He swallows. He hates this part. "I don't know."

He can feel the way her body jolts in surprise.

"I never knew her. We were never in the same foster home."

"Callen," she breathes.

He knows it tells her everything, tells her about his life, his childhood, the way he grew up. He holds his breath for a few moments, but when she doesn't move, he relaxes. He pulls the box from his pocket then, very reluctantly releases her hand so he can open it. A small glass angel is nestled in the fabric and glints in the sun.

"I found her three years ago," he admits. "I was too young when I went into foster care. I never remembered her."

Her hand presses against his shoulder blade, but it's the only comfort she offers. He's glad for it, to be honest. He's not all that emotional by nature and isn't all that accepting of comfort. Not that he feels particularly sad, more just separate. Like he missed out on a big part of life. Like he should have known her.

"And the angel?"

He shrugs. "I saw it in the store. Thought she should have it."

It's the perfect opening and he nestles the glass figurine into the grass. When he stands again, she steps up right behind him. He can feel the gentle heat of her against his back.

"Thank you," she murmurs, like anything louder will break the somber mood. "For letting me meet her."

He reaches back for her, a desperate grip and she just holds him back.

This has been written for the better part of a month. Long story.

Also long story? The really irritating formatting issues I had with this. It's still making me twitch.

I'm not going to promise when the next one's coming. HOPEFULLY it'll be a week from now, but it might be at minimum two. School is ridiculously busy.