A second tactical team arrived on the scene with emergency vehicles in tow and they began the mop up. After everything was secured, Sam took a good look at his partner noting the blood stained shirt. Callen noticed his partner's scrutiny and did a preemptive "I'm good," as he walked across the shed to where he had stashed Lt Springer. "It's safe to come out now Lieutenant," he said as he used his good arm to fling back the tarp.
A scared and confused man crawled out of the cart blinking like an owl in the brightness of the shed.
"This is Lieutenant Springer. He was being held captive," Callen said to his team who had gathered around the men.
Springer scanned each of their faces, finally coming to rest on Callen. "Why do I get the feeling you are not a naval officer?"
"NCIS. I'm Special Agent Callen. This is Special Agent Hanna, Blythe and Detective Deeks, LAPD," Callen introduced the members of his team.
"Thank you for rescuing me. All of you," the Lieutenant said gratefully. "I thought I'd never get out of there and see Tony again."
At the word Tony, Callen flinched ever so slightly and the rest of the team immediately realized Callen hadn't told Lt Springer the bad news. Callen cleared his throat. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry. But Tony's dead. They killed him right after they abducted you from the club."
Springer's face showed he was crushed by the news. "But you said..." he started to say.
"I'm sorry," Callen repeated.
As the magnitude of his new reality hit him, Springer started to sway. Deeks reached out a hand to steady the officer.
Sam gestured to his teammates. "Kensi, Deeks, take him out to the EMTs and get him checked out."
With compassion, the junior members of the team led the man away. When he was gone, Sam turned his attention back on his partner. "I thought you said you were good."
Giving Sam an unconcerned look, Callen casually answered, "I am."
Sam looked pointedly at his partner's shirt. "Then how do you explain the fact that your shirt is soaked in blood? Am I to assume it isn't yours?"
Callen shrugged and started to nonchalantly walk away. "You can assume what you want. But you know the old saying about assuming..." His ploy might have worked if a wave of dizziness hadn't taken that opportunity to strike and he stumbled drunkenly against one of the golf carts. A quick grab of a side support stopped him from going down.
"I don't have to assume. I know you are an ass. Where did you take a bullet?" Sam said moving swiftly to his ailing partner's side.
"Didn't," Callen said with his head hanging low as he tried to banish the dizziness.
"Ah-huh. So that's not your blood."
"Didn't say that either." Callen straightened a little as the spinning slowed down. "Apparently I was slouching in the chair when they were interrogating me so that guy over there," he gestured to one of the dead men on the floor, "put a knife thru my shoulder to hold me upright."
Sam grimaced at the offhanded way his partner made light of being tortured. "I hate when you do that."
"Do what?" Callen asked blandly.
Sam glared at Callen, who ignored him and pushed off the cart heading towards the door again. The adrenaline rush that had kept him functioning for the last few hours was rapidly burning off and Callen found himself hard pressed to walk straight. Silently, Sam moved up alongside of him and provided support which Callen miraculously accepted without a fight.
"Make light of your injuries. Joke about them. Act like you getting hurt or dying doesn't matter," Sam finally answered.
Callen stopped and stared at his partner. "It's how I survive it."
Sam was puzzled. "I don't understand."
Shifting his weight, Callen focused on a spot over Sam's left shoulder. "Growing up I got beaten by other kids, foster parents, teachers, and other authority figures. I was told over and over no one wanted me, that I was worthless. Hell one social worker told me my parents weren't dead, they had abandoned me because they didn't want me. No one wanted me. The only way I survived was indifference. Pretending I didn't care, it didn't matter. To acknowledge an injury was to show a sign of weakness, give them another foothold."
"It doesn't have to be like that anymore. You know there are people who care about you," Sam said placing his two hands on Callen's shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. "I'm one of them."
Callen lowered his eyes. "It's a hard demon to excise. There is always a part of me that can't trust; that waits for the bad."
"I will never betray your trust G Callen. Never," Sam said forcefully.
Callen's knees buckled a little and after Sam steadied him, he guided him over to one of the waiting EMTs. The blond meekly submitted to his blood pressure and temperature being taken. He didn't even complain when the EMT requested he unbutton his shirt to examine the gash.
When Sam saw his partner's wounded shoulder he scoffed. "That's what you call good?"
"I've had worse," Callen mildly replied and Sam couldn't argue with that statement.
It wasn't until the EMT told Callen he needed to go to the hospital to have the wound stitched that Callen's stubbornness reappeared.
"No," Callen emphatically stated shrugging his shirt back over his shoulder.
Sam sighed. "Come on G. Just once can't you cooperate?"
Callen stood and took a few steps away from the rig. "I know this needs to be taken care of but I am not going in that," he jerked his thumb towards the ambulance, "to the hospital."
"I see. Then what are your plans?" Sam asked narrowing his eyes.
"You are going to drive me to Camp Pendleton. The doctor there, he can take care of this scrape."
Sam snorted at the word scrape as he studied at his determined partner's face. He knew the look and when Callen sported it, only unconsciousness could change his mind. A little bell went off in Sam's head. If he was recollecting correctly, the only time he'd ever seen his friend ride in an ambulance was when he was unconscious. Every other time he had to go to the hospital he somehow managed to finagle someone to drive him there. Sam knew Callen had a deep seated fear and hatred for hospitals, though he still did not know why, but now he wondered if that extended to ambulances too. Another mystery in the puzzle that was Callen.
"Ok. I'll drive you. But I am putting a tarp down so you don't bleed on my nice leather seats," Sam said as the two men walked away from the ambulance.
Callen quirked an eyebrow. "You carry a tarp? Why?"
Sam shook his head in disbelief as he opened the trunk of the black car and took out a neatly folded blue, plastic tarp. "There are a lot of uses for a tarp."
"Name three," Callen said as he trailed behind Sam watching him open the door and place the blue plastic over the passenger seat.
"On a rainy day if you have to change a tire in the mud you can kneel on it and place things on it so they don't get dirty," he replied carefully tugging the edges of the plastic around the seat.
"It never rains in California. Haven't you heard the song? Give me another use," Callen goaded.
"You can wrap a dead body in it and store it in the trunk," Sam said pulling the tarp to cover the foot well.
"I might give you that one." He looked at Sam's handy work. "My feet aren't bleeding."
"Yeah, but it's in case you barf."
"I'm not going to. What is it with you and Hetty on that subject?"
Sam snorted. "You have a history."
Callen ignored the comment. "Give me a third reason for carrying a tarp in the trunk."
Sam straightened up and glared at his partner. "The third reason is to drive your blood-covered, pain in the ass partner to the hospital. Now shut up and get in before I use the tarp for reason two."
Callen got into the car and sat on the crinkly plastic. "It's noisy," he whined.
"No more than you," Sam shot back as he got in the car and drove off.
They drove in silence for a few miles. "Just checking, did you threaten to kill me back there, roll me up in your tarp and stash me in the trunk?" Callen asked.
Sam's reply was short and sweet. "Yes."
"Huh. That's murder," Callen pointed out.
Sam smiled confidently. "Any jury would let me off. If not, I'll bet Hetty could pull strings. Make it look like it was in the line of duty."
Callen gave his partner a sideways glance. "You're starting to scare me Sam. More than Michelle."
"Good. Remember that when we are in the hospital. The tarp will be waiting."
"Is that another veiled threat?" Callen inquired.
"Take it how you want," Sam grinned evilly.
Callen closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the head rest. As a testament to his exhaustion, he actually dozed off the rest of the way to Camp Pendleton.
Author's Note: Thanks for hanging in this marathon. Once again our hero has cheated death, though now he is on the way to receive medical treatment; this outta be good.