"I'm leaving. I'm done here." This ultimatum was delivered, standing in the middle of the hospital room, in an air conditioned gown, by a man hooked to an IV stand. While that, to some, may have painted a pitiful picture, the tone of voice and the facial expression of the deliver brooked no argument; this man was deadly serious.

The other man casually sitting in the chair, muscular forearms bulging and crossed on his chest, wasn't buying into the speech. "You still are running a temperature, which means, if you can't figure it out, you still have an infection. Until that goes away, that pole by your side is your new best friend."

Callen shuffled across the room, dragging the dreaded IV along with him only because he knew if he didn't, it would rip out of his skin and hurt like hell; he knew that from personal experience. Perching on the edge of the bed, he brooded. "If you are implying you were my old best friend, think again buddy. Not even in the top ten."

Sam glanced over a Callen with a sardonic grin. "You don't have a top ten list cause you don't have any friends. Can't make a list out of zero."

Scowling, Callen formulated a new plan. "Maybe," he started in a most reasonable tone, "I still have a slight temperature..."

"You do."

"And maybe I still have a very minor infection..."

"You do."

Callen glared at Sam and fought to keep his tone even. "But both can be treated at home, thru oral drugs. No reason to stay here." Sam stared neutrally at Callen, which irked his partner even more. "Tell me I'm wrong Sam," he demanded.

"You wrong."

"Damn it. I'm not! And I'm leaving, with or without you."

Sam inwardly sighed recognizing his partner's mood and knowing he was absolutely serious. One way or another, Callen had no intentions of staying here another night, so Sam tried to salvage the situation. "Fine. I'll go hunt down your Doctor, get some prescriptions for oral antibiotics and you can leave. Good?"

Callen nodded and started to slide back off the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as he rose from the chair.

Callen looked at him like he was nuts. "Getting dressed. Can't go home dressed like this." The gown flapped open a bit reveling more than Sam wanted to see.

"You get back in that bed and stay there until I get back or so help me, I will tie you to that bed, leave and get Hetty up here. The let's see how smug you are then," Sam threaten.

Like a petulant child, Callen climbed back into the bed and twitched the covers over his legs. "Good?"

"Yea. Don't move a muscle," Sam instructed, heading towards the door.

"Can I breath? That means moving muscles ya know," Callen called after his retreating partner. Sam muttered something as he left the room and Callen was pretty sure he didn't want to know what it was.

The impatient agent sat in the bed as instructed, drumming his fingers against his good leg and watching the clock slowly tick by the minutes. Fifteen minutes later, a nurse walked into the room with a tray of needles.

"Time for your shots, Mr. Martin," she said in that fake cheerful tone that nurses used, even though they knew and you knew that no one wanted the damn shots.

Callen took one look at the tray with the three needles sitting on it and decided that he was done with this place no matter what he told his partner; he was out of here now. When the nurse got closer with the tray he 'accidentally' hit it, dumping the contents on the floor. Turning on his choirboy charm, he profusely apologized. He could tell she was highly annoyed, but she kept her cool and told him she would be back in a bit with a new set.

Callen had no intentions of being around when she returned, even though he knew Sam was going to be majorly ticked at him. However, his intense dislike of needles won out and he started pulling the tape off his arm that was securing the IV line. With a grimace, he pulled out the needle then pressed the piece of gauze he had wadded up over the puncture. Spotting a roll of the stretchy bandage cloth, he wrapped it around his arm, securing the gauze pad in place. Then he went quickly to where his clothes were stored and four minutes later he was out the door.

His luck held and the hallway was empty, as he slipped down it to the bank of elevators. Practically bouncing on his toes waiting for one to arrive, he debated if instead he should find the staircase. However, despite all his bravado, he was feeling weak and if the room numbers corresponded to floors, he'd have to walk down fourteen flights of stairs. Callen thought his odds of making it were very slim. Finally, an elevator arrived; the doors opened and revealed it was empty inside. With a sigh of relief, he pushed the button for the lobby. A few minutes later he was outside and a free man, that is until Sam found him. Then, he would be a dead man. Oh well, it wasn't the first time he hadn't listened to his partner and if he survived this time, probably not the last.

It had taken Sam twenty minutes to find Callen's doctor, and another ten to convince him that it really was in his partner's best interest to be immediately released. The doctor had totally disagreed, but eventually agreed to support the decision when Sam told him one way or another they were leaving today, and he would much prefer it was with the necessary prescriptions to help Callen to continue to heal outside the hospital. The doctor finally relented, but only after Sam promised they would sign the form that said Callen was leaving against medical advice.

It had taken another ten minutes for the doctor to write up the prescriptions Callen would need to take, as well as procure some samples for immediate use. Glancing at his watch as he rode the elevator back up to the fourteen floor where Callen's room was located, Sam realized forty minutes had elapsed.

As he walked into Callen's room, he announced, "You owe me big time for this one." His eyes swept the room, quickly showing him it was empty. A glance at the bathroom door, which was ajar, showed it to was devoid of his partner. Sam swung around and collided with a nurse, who was entering the room, carrying a tray of needles. For the second time today, the contents tumbled to the ground and if looks could kill, Sam would have been dead.

"Twice in one day. This is so not my day," the nurse griped as she bent over to pick up the spilled items.

Sam started to help but she waved him off. What the nurse said suddenly registered with his brain. "Were you here earlier with that tray of needles?"

The nurse straightened up with a snort. "Yep. And Mr. Martin accidentally knocked it out of my hand."

"I'll bet he did," Sam said under his breath. He knew he didn't have to search any further for his missing partner in the hospital. Callen was long gone.

The nurse suddenly realized that Mr. Martin wasn't in the room. "What the ..."

Sam was pretty sure the next word was going to be 'hell' but the nurse caught herself.

"Where is Mr. Martin?" She turned her annoyed, brown eyes on Sam assuming, he knew something, which he did, sort of.

"The Doctor released him," Sam told her.

"In the last fifteen minutes? Who took out his IV? Nobody gets released that fast around her. There are procedures and protocols."

Sam grinned ruefully. "My friend isn't big on following procedures and protocols. I suspect he skipped a few steps in his departure."

"We'll just see about this!" she declared, turning on her heel and marching out of the room. Sam trailed along behind because there was nothing left of Callen's in the room. The man had grabbed it all and ran.

It took another thirty minutes to straighten out all the required paperwork to have Mr. Martin officially released by the hospital. Sam's mood was incredibly bad by the time he left with a handful of papers, prescriptions and medical supplies for Callen. Callen better hope that it took Sam awhile to find him because right now he was so annoyed, he might just do something to Callen that would put him right back in the hospital.