Brotherhood

Chapter 25

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Elan had never been an overly emotional man. Maybe he had inherited his stoic nature from his ancestors, or maybe because of the tough lessons his father had beaten into him from a young age, that revealing one's feelings brought suffering. Even his Uncle Jim kept his deeply held emotions tightly controlled. It was the Atwoods who had taught him what joy was. His cousins' easy going natures had allowed him to open up and express whatever he felt about what was happening around him without any painful consequences. George had treated him as one of his own from the beginning, his first hug an amazing revelation to someone unused to a loving father, and something he'd distrusted until the second one and then the third. He and Joe had become close as teenagers, often riding off together to talk about all sorts of things, but mostly girls or to think up pranks to play on his brother. He had found a family and had grown up strong and happy, his childhood adversity nothing but distant memories he had no further use for. And yet he remained rather reticent in his daily life.

His cousin Christopher's death in Iraq had hit him hard, but he'd had no time to grieve because it had hit Joe harder and he'd had to be strong for him, a solid rock his cousin could cling to in the turbulent sea of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him. Joining the service had been their response, but it had split them up and that had hurt more than he was prepared for. Becoming an Army Ranger became a way for him to focus his energy and the discipline had made him stronger, but it had also dampened his emotions. When he'd finally returned from the war he was different. All the carnage he'd seen, the killing, and the loss of good friends, had left him guarded and aloof, holding his feelings inside for a long time until Joe had almost been killed on an undercover assignment. He found he couldn't deal with it, the thought of losing him so overpowering that he simply left. He still felt guilty about that.

After wandering untethered for a while, he'd settled, spending months guiding tourists on horseback trips up into the Tetons out of Jackson Hole. New people every trip, no personal connections that might elicit an emotional response. When he'd finally called home, his uncle told him that Joe had recovered from his wounds and was getting married, shaming him into returning and making him wildly happy. A few days before the wedding George told him what had happened to Joe and about a man named Marty Deeks. A man who had saved Joe's life twice in the span of a few minutes. A man who eventually helped him find his lost son. A man who became his brother. A man he loved.

He had gone through hell with Marty and it had unleashed a well of emotions that had surprised him, but which he no longer fought. Having a young son had changed the way he looked at the world, opening up his heart to a myriad of new emotions he hadn't known existed. Family was everything to him now, and it had taken all the discipline he'd learned as an Army Ranger to keep from charging onto that dock when he saw Marty dragged off that boat. His stillness immediately filled him with debilitating fear and then such anxious rage that if Sam hadn't held him down, he would have killed all of the arrogant bastards on that boat and anyone else who tried to stop him from carrying his brother safely away.

The minute he'd heard over comms that Marty would be alone on that boat with those people, he had argued against it, but his concerns had been ignored. Marty had counted on him to stay close, and he'd promised that he would. He had promised he would come for him if he needed him, but he hadn't been able to do that. He had failed his brother and now he was in a dimly lit parking lot waiting to hear where Guidry and his men had taken him, afraid some voice would tell him they'd found his dead body by the side of the road.

Hetty had tried to talk to him, calmly speaking hope filled platitudes that only made him angry and he had rudely rebuked her efforts. Sam had cautioned him, but he didn't want to be cautious. He had done that and he deeply regretted he had listened to any of them. He didn't care about the mission as they did, even though he knew he should. His ranger training made him almost predisposed to follow orders, but he wasn't a soldier anymore, or in a chain of command. He was a brother looking out for his brother, and he was growing very tired of being told to wait.

"I know where they're going," Safa shouted into his ear, and Elan felt his heart race. "Tulane Medical Center is just up ahead. I'll be damned...the bastard is taking him to the ER."

"We're coming to you," Sam said as he peeled out of the lot and headed uptown.

He suddenly felt hopeful as Sam gripped his forearm, his eyes filled with intensity.

"Safa and I won't be able to go in. The men with Guidry might be the ones who tried to kill me," he said. "But you can, Elan. You'll have to be our eyes and ears in there."

Elan expelled all the air in his body, unaware he had even been holding his breath. He felt a strong adrenaline rush, anxious to be there, to see his brother, to feel the beating of his heart and expel the fear that clung to him.

"No weapons. No names," Sam ordered. "Just observe and report. Got it?"

"You SEALs sure love giving orders," Elan said, the action finally snapping him out of his funk.

"Just don't do anything stupid, ranger," Sam voice was strong, but there was a touch of humor there as well.

"I need to see him, Sam."

"I know," his reply full of kindness.

The silence that followed had weight as though all of his questions hung there in the darkness of the car. Time paused as if unimportant, and yet he wanted to will it forward, to rush with it as if on the back of his black horse, racing the wind. His mind became filled with images of Marty with that wide cocky grin, his laugh so infectious he wanted to laugh in response, even in his uncertainty. He tried to distract himself, staring out the window at the locked doors and unseeing windows of stores and restaurants and darkened houses. All the life of the city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting as he was to find out what mattered most. Did his heart still beat? Would his mind be unchanged if it did? Was he angry? Would he blame him? Did that matter? Nothing did if he had passed on, forever out of his reach, never to smile, or kiss his love, or know the boundless joy of having a child. He wanted him to live for all those reasons, but most of all he selfishly wanted to feel the warmth of his brotherhood.

"He can't be gone..." He whispered.

"Stay focused, ranger," Sam said sharply, the order snapping him free of his troublesome thoughts. "He needs you to do that."

"You're scared too," he replied.

"But you can't be," Sam said. "You have to be aware at all times. Observant. Deceptive. Under the radar as much as possible for a man your size, with hair halfway down his back."

Elan nodded and pulled his hair back, knotting it at the base of his neck. "No one will know I was even there...I'm Arapaho."

"You're also full of bullshit," Sam smiled and slapped him on the shoulder as they approached the hospital.

Safa stepped out of a doorway and Sam pulled quickly over to the curb a block down from the entrance to ER. They quickly got out and she explained she had followed them to the emergency bay, where Doctor Mouton had gone in and brought out help and a gurney. She couldn't hear what was said, but after Deeks had been taken inside, Guidry and his men drove off and parked in the dark reaches of the parking lot where they could watch from afar.

"I didn't think they would actually bring him here," she admitted softly.

"Was he moving?" Sam's question causing Elan to flinch.

"I'm sorry...no...he wasn't," she replied.

"You're on Elan," Sam said.

"Wait! You're sending him in there?" Safa blurted out. "He's a hothead."

"I am not a hothead. I'm his brother," Elan replied evenly, tightly controlling his anger.

"Which makes you too emotional," she charged. "Guidry's smart. If you make a mistake and give yourself away because you lack the ability to be patient, then your brother won't survive this."

"Don't you think I know that?" He asked, suddenly angry as she stepped in front of him.

"You've never been undercover before, have you?" Defying him and igniting his temper. "It should be us going in, Sam. We're the professionals."

"One of Guidry's men might have seen us before. If we get made, it's over. You know that," Sam reasoned with her.

"He'll stand out looking like that," she insisted.

"There are Native Americans in Louisiana, right?" Elan asked.

"Damn right there are," Roy confirmed enthusiastically in their ears. "My daddy had Choctaw blood."

"So I'm not that unusual looking for around here," Elan said as he walked around her and headed for the hospital.

"That doctor's still in there," she called after him and he knew she had finally run out of objections.

Elan walked steadily forward, his mind now on how to make himself invisible once he simply wandered in. He glanced around the empty streets, traffic sporadic this early in the morning, only a few cars heading in the same direction he was. He kept his head down as if lost in his own thoughts, which in a way he was. Slumping his shoulders and slouching so he wouldn't look too intimidating, he walked past an ambulance and entered the emergency room.

"Use some of that French you keep braggin' you learned," Roy said in his ear. "Most native peoples here speak it."

He appreciated the advice, and having the odd man's familiar voice in his ear. His only response was a softly uttered French swear word Lily had taught him as he checked out his surroundings. The ER was quieter than he thought it would be, except for a couple of guys trying to explain why they were bloodied and missing their pants. Most of the people sat silently waiting their turn as staff assisted the more needy patients onto waiting gurneys or into exam areas, noisily sliding curtains around them for privacy. The urge to charge forward and rip every curtain open to find his brother was so strong he stopped in the middle of the room until he had some measure of control. An intern asked him if he needed help, but he simply shook his head no and she moved on. A cluster of people occupied one corner, crying and hugging one another as a doctor spoke quietly to them. The scene chilled him and he slumped into one of the pale blue plastic chairs unnoticed, hoping he would see the doctor he'd observed while on overwatch earlier in the day.

It was the sudden yell for a crash cart that made his muscles tighten, and his heart race. The rush of activity was frightening in its intensity, and he instinctively knew it was all for Marty. He jumped up without thinking, uncertain what to do, knowing he shouldn't reveal his interest, but desperate to know what was happening. He wasn't aware of the people around him, and froze when someone touched his arm.

"Hard to get used to, ain't it?" A young man said.

"What?"

"Being back. Hearin' the sound of men dyin'," he said. "I still jump like you just did whenever I hear loud noises. Can't seem to shake it."

He looked into the sad brown eyes of one of the bloody men with no pants. He had tears in his eyes as he watched the crash cart being rushed behind the curtain.

"You injured or just waitin'?" The young man asked.

"Waiting."

"They're probably tryin' to save that blond guy who OD'd," he said quietly. "Looked dead when they brought him in."

Elan choked out a low moan and the man eyed him curiously.

"Hey man...he a friend?"

Elan only managed to nod, unmoving and distraught.

"Was you army?" The kid asked.

"Rangers."

"Sonofabitch! Bet you seen worse than I did," the kid said. "Listen...I know one of the nurses. Used to date 'er. Want me to find out how your buddy's doin'?"

"Yeah...thanks, man. Just don't let her know who's asking...okay?" he said, gripping the young man's shoulder.

"Won't get ya in trouble, buddy," he replied with a soft smile. "Us vets gotta stick together."

The young man limped over to the nurse's station and began chatting with a plain looking dark haired woman with glasses. She looked up at him and smiled, and then turned toward the action down toward the back, finally getting up as she picked up a chart. She spent a couple of minutes flirting, squeezing his arm before walking back toward the section where the crash cart had gone. She pushed the curtain aside, allowing him to see several doctors working urgently over a patient, but he couldn't tell if it was his brother or not, until he saw Doctor Mouton. He was standing off to the side and looked scared to death, nervously biting his fingernails and running his hand through his sparse gray hair.

Elan wanted to strangle the man. He'd done this to Marty and now his brother was fighting for his life. He hadn't realized he'd begun to move closer, and when he did, he couldn't stop himself. He had to see his face. No one paid any attention as he walked slowly over by one of the empty gurneys pushed back against the far wall and leaned against it, sucking in his breath when he saw his brother.

Marty was an active man. A surfer. Always tan and vibrant. He loved to ride with him because he was always laughing, even when he lost a race. But not now. Now he was pale, his body limp and unresponsive, his hair a tangled mass that obscured part of his face. His body glistened with sweat as the doctors worked on him, and it took everything he had not to go to him. When one of the doctors yelled clear, he flinched as Marty's body arced up off the gurney from the electric shock of the defibrillator. After another shock, he heard the regular beep of the heart monitor and saw the doctors relax slightly. He was too far away to hear what they were saying, and Marty was still unconscious, but he was alive and he began to have some hope.

Mouton spoke briefly to the doctors and after shaking one's hand he turned and walked quickly toward the exit without a backward glance at the man he had put here.

"Any news? Is he alive? Yes or no?" Sam asked, his voice tense and concerned.

"Yes," he said behind his hand.

"Just spotted the doc coming out," Sam continued. "He's looking around. Probably trying to find Guidry."

"You okay, Elan?" Roy asked.

"Fine."

He watched the dark haired nurse talk to one of the doctors working on Marty and he slowly began to walk back to the waiting area. He slumped down into the plastic chair and bent forward, his elbows grinding into his knees as he rubbed his hands over his face and tried to stop shivering. With no way to relieve the stress he was feeling or the anger he felt toward the men who had done this, he simply quivered with excess energy.

"Hey, man," the young vet said as he sat next to him. "Gloria said they're taking him up to a room in a little while. She's gonna let me know the number. Told her he was a friend of mine."

"Thanks buddy," Elan said. "I appreciate your help."

"No prob, man," the kid said. "Friends call me Ozzie or Oz."

"Elan," he replied, anxiously rubbing a hand over the closed fist beneath his chin.

"You look like you want to take somebody out, man," Oz said. "You was a meat eater weren't ya?"

Elan hadn't heard that particular piece of military jargon in quite awhile, but it suited the way he was feeling. He hadn't been with Special Forces, but he had been on missions in some of the toughest areas in Afghanistan, and this guy had recognized the look in his eye.

"He shouldn't be here," Elan said, his voice heavy and menacing.

"Got it. Listen man...I'm gonna take off for a little bit, okay?" Oz said, suddenly sounding nervous as he edged away. "Gloria's gonna fit me out with some hospital scrubs. I'll come back with the room number, soon as I know...I promise. Hope your buddy's gonna be okay."

"Ya sure as hell scared the crap outa that guy," Roy said, as the man hurried away. "Don't go lettin' off steam in the middle of the damn ER."

"Shut the fuck up."

Elan was walking the edge now, and as much as he needed to pull himself back, he was finding it difficult to get his emotions under control.

"Take a walk outside, Elan," Sam ordered.

"Can't do that," he replied stubbornly.

"I told you it was dangerous to send him in there," Safa said and it pissed him off.

"Elan?"

"Callen?"

No one said anything for a few seconds, but Elan was flooded with relief at the sound of his voice in his ear and moved to a far corner empty of people, sinking down to sit on the floor. He sat hunched over, his hands clasped behind his head as it hung between his knees. He worked on controlling his breathing as the others all began talking at once, until Callen angrily told them to shut up, sounding more like Jake Hale than the levelheaded federal agent he was.

"One of Guidry's men just told me what happened," Callen said. "Soon as he left I got on comms. Heard a little of your conversation, Elan. I know you're in the hospital. Is he still alive?"

"Yeah, Cuz. He's alive," Elan said softly. "But he's in bad shape. Still unconscious."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Elan heard the tremor in his voice, and knew he was just as scared as he was. "He crashed, brother...but they got him back...they got him back. He's okay for now..."

"I'm coming," he replied, his voice tight. "Guidry wants me to stay with him until he recovers."

"I'll be here," Elan replied.

He listened to Sam tell Callen the full story, with a few interruption from Roy, but he added nothing himself. When they finally stopped rehashing it all, he felt drained of energy and got up to look for a vending machine. He was on his second cup of weak coffee and stuffing his mouth full of a stale donut he'd found in an abandoned pink box when he saw Oz headed his way.

"Hey, man," Oz said. "Been lookin' for you. Your friend's in Room 3209."

The former soldier's kindness touched him and he grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a quick hug, mumbling his thanks and embarrassing the kid. They said their goodbyes by the elevator, his heart racing as the doors closed and it rose to the third floor. The corridors were eerily empty and he snuck by the nurses' station while two black women hovered over a computer screen with their backs turned. He moved silently through the halls, pausing only briefly at one of the large windows that overlooked the city, noticing that the long, dark night was finally shading toward dawn. As he was about to turn a corner, he had to hurriedly step back when he heard voices, waiting until they faded before taking a peek. The hall was empty and dimly lit, and he walked quickly to the door he was interested in.

Multicolored lights blinked on the monitors and numbers glowed and changed in the semidarkness as Marty slept. He was on oxygen and an IV pole stood sentinel next to his bed, the clear saline dripping steadily into the tube that snaked down to his arm. Elan moved closer and took his hand, letting his eyes adjust to the low glow of light above the bed. There was no response to his touch, his hand remaining limp and clammy as he clasped it in his own. He could see a couple of darkening bruises on his pale face, and his lower lip was cut and puffy. His anger stirred as he watched him breathe, and he realized he was angry with himself for not getting him out of there and angry at the team for leaving him in the hands of such sick bastards. They might not have had a choice, but he sure as hell didn't have to like it, and it did nothing to ease his own guilt. He was lost in regret when he felt Marty's fingers curl around the back of his hand and he held his breath and waited to see if he would open his eyes.

"Name's...Jimmy..." The words were barely a whisper, but they were full of desperation and a touch defiance that made him smile.

"You're safe now," Elan dared to say, unsure if it would be wise to pull him out of his alias.

Deeks eyes fluttered open for a moment, as his tongue licked out at his dry lips, hissing when it touched the cut.

"Jake?...you here?"

Marty's hand gripped his tightly and his eyes searched his face, but he didn't seem to recognize him and that scared him badly.

"Hey, Cuz," Elan said, using the familiar name he'd called all of them at one time or the other.

"Elan? No...no...you shouldn't be here, brother," Deeks' eyes were wide now, panicking as he looked wildly around the room.

"It's just the two of us, Marty," he said gently as he squeezed his shoulder. "You're in a hospital. You OD'd."

He closed his eyes at that, breathing heavily through his mouth and nodding as if remembering it all. "How did I get here? Did you guys take 'em out?"

"Guidry and a couple of his men came and got you," Elan said. "He's the one who brought you here."

"Seriously?" His blue eyes glazing over with tears.

"Shocked the shit out of all of us, too," he replied, finally able to smile. "He even shot the guy you beat up."

Deeks slowly nodded at that and then closed his eyes and drifted off. Elan listened to Sam and Safa, and then Roy talking over comms, and he could hear the same relief in their voices that he was feeling. Safa even apologized, but he didn't reply to any of them, satisfied to simply wait beside his brother's bed and watch him sleep.

There was real fear in his expression when he suddenly woke and Elan tightened his grip on his hand. "Elan? Did I...did I give anything up?"

"No, Cuz. Not a damn thing," Elan assured him. "Eric and Nell created some fake files and modified a photo of you. When the team got it to Pierce they finally believed Harrison White was wrong."

"Don't remember much except for hearing Hetty's voice in my head...and a couple of gut punches," he said quietly. "Then nothing after that last injection."

"You mumbled a lot and cussed like my old drill sergeant," Elan said with a smile. "But you were Jimmy Hale all the way."

"I was afraid I'd get G killed," he murmured.

"He's on his way here," Elan told him. "Guidry sent for him."

"Guidry really shot a guy?" He asked.

"He was mad as hell, Marty," Elan replied. "I think he would have killed Pierce and White if they hadn't brought you out."

"Why the fuck would he do that?" Deeks asked.

"He totally believes you're Jimmy Hale," Sam said over comms. "Called you family. How does that make you feel?"

Deeks didn't react or respond, and Elan looked at him quizzically, wondering if he'd zoned out before realizing he hadn't heard it.

"You still have your earwig?" He asked.

Deeks reached up to his ear and his eyes widened as he shook his head.

"What if White found it?" Deeks asked, looking shaken.

"You'd be dead," Elan said quietly. "Someone on the medical staff must have discovered it. Callen can deal with that when he gets here."

His brother smiled softly and began to blink slowly, his energy fading fast, and Elan felt the long night getting to him as well. The exhaustion he felt actually helped him relax, numbing his anger and dulling his remaining fear.

"I'm sorry, Marty," he finally offered.

"For what, brother?"

"For not getting you out of there before they did this to you," he replied, looking away with regret.

"I never expected you to storm the boat like one of The Avengers, Elan," Deeks replied, with a soft grin. "I just wanted you to come get me if I jumped overboard, which I seriously considered, by the way."

"I would have stormed the boat..."

"They would have shot you to pieces," Deeks said softly, and then cracked a smile. "You don't have a impenetrable shield like Captain America, you know."

"Yeah...you're right," he admitted. "But if I'd had Iron Man's suit I would have torn those bastards apart."

"I know you would, but I think of you more as Hawkeye," Deeks said, raising one eyebrow with a calculating stare.

"Yeah? Just 'cause I'm Arapaho, doesn't mean I'm an expert with a bow," Elan laughed. "So who would Callen be?"

"Captain America," he replied firmly.

"Does that make you Bucky Barnes?" Elan asked.

"Could have used the Winter Soldier's robotic arm," Deeks said with a sigh, growing serious. "I would have crushed Harrison White's ugly face."

"What about Sam?" He asked, trying to distract him from the painful memories.

"Has to be either the Hulk or Thor," Deeks said with a cocky grin.

"The Hulk," they both instantly said in unison, laughing as they used to, giving the situation a touch of normalcy.

Sam grumpily argued he wasn't green and Safa made a case for herself as the Black Widow, but Elan didn't respond and Deeks couldn't hear them. Their conversation waned and Deeks' eyes became heavy and he finally fell back asleep, leaving Elan satisfied that he would recover, but still fearful about what came next. This mission wasn't over, and the danger hadn't changed. His brother would have to go back to being Jimmy Hale and his concern would be rekindled.

He heard the door open and reached for a knife that wasn't there as he rose smoothly from the chair to face the intruder.

"Sorry...didn't mean to interrupt," The nurse said easily. "Just need to check his vitals. Were you here all night?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, surprised he wasn't told to leave.

"I'm just going to assume you're family. It helps to have friends and family around when a patient wakes up," she said as she checked Deeks' pulse and blood pressure.

"Don't know the visiting hours...I just needed to be with him," Elan said.

"Family is welcome here anytime, day or night," she replied. "The doctor will be in to check on him a little later. He'll probably recommend a psych evaluation. Need to make sure he doesn't do this to himself again."

"He didn't do this," he said sharply. "He's not a junkie."

"Of course not. I didn't mean to upset you, sir," she said nervously as Elan unwittingly took a step toward her.

"I know he looks intimidating, ma'am, but he's really just a big old teddy bear," Callen drawled as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb. "Loves my little brother."

"I understand," she said, looking from one to the other.

Callen looked rough as if he hadn't slept. His longish hair was mussed up and his T-shirt wrinkled and dirty, as were his jeans. His blue eyes were fierce, and never left his brother's face and Elan could tell he made the nurse even more nervous, and she quickly left. He closed the door behind her, going immediately to Deeks' side, needing to touch him just as much as he had.

"How's he doin'?" Callen asked as he tentatively ruffled his hair.

"He's been awake a few times," Elan said as he eased up beside him. "Joked a little even...he's a tough sonofabitch, Cuz."

"Those bastards roughed him up too," Callen said under his breath, and Elan could hear the barely suppressed anger.

"It was hard to listen to, brother," he said, dropping his head.

The hard grip of Callen' hand around the back of his neck, surprised him, but the hug even more so. Neither one was terribly expressive with the other. They had never hugged one another before, and rarely even shook hands, but now thy couldn't control their emotions, coming together as brothers because of the man sleeping beside them. Deeks had brought them together and he was the reason their emotions were kindled now. They shared the same fear of losing him and his ordeal had angered them both deeply. Their love for him is what made them cling to one another, the sense of relief that he was alive and breathing overcoming their natural reticence.

"Get a room you two," Deeks' sleepy sounding comment made them break apart, both looking embarrassed by their loss of control.

"Hey little brother," Callen choked out. "You okay?"

"Will be," he replied. "Hungry though. The bastards didn't even feed me. Guidry ain't around is he?"

"No. He and the others are takin' the doc up to the Gator Lake camp," Callen told him, both of them sounding more like Jake and Jimmy as they talked.

"Hope he's crappin' in his pants," Deeks said softly. "The prick enjoyed pumpin' me full of that shit."

"Can you two just drop the aliases for a little while?" Elan finally asked. "I'm really getting sick of Jimmy and Jake Hale."

"You haven't slept have you?" Callen asked, sounding concerned. "I'll stand watch if you want to grab a nap."

"He's definitely strung out," Deeks said. "Thought he was Captain America, but I told him that was you."

"I never said that," Elan replied.

"Wanted to storm the boat and rescue me like he was one of the Avengers or something," Deeks said, smiling now.

"I dressed up like Captain America once for one of Hetty's parties," Callen admitted with a smirk. "I looked damn heroic."

"It sure as hell showed off your tight ass," Deeks giggled.

"I don't have a tight ass," Callen frowned.

Elan listened to them snipe at one another and it felt normal and real, like family. When Sam came on comms to join in the kibitzing, he yawned and sprawled in the chair, his exhaustion finally getting to him. He hadn't slept for over twenty-four hours, but until now he couldn't have. Seeing Marty smiling was what he needed. His emotions had calmed, but he still felt protective, of both of them. The hug from Callen had been unexpected. The man usually stayed aloof, even standoffish when George tried to hug him, but seeing Marty alive had broken down his normal, hardheaded defenses, his emotions as raw as his own. A simple hug was better than words sometimes. Callen had once told him Marty had taught him that.

Was it fear or love that made them vulnerable? Maybe fear was a natural expression that came from loving someone so deeply, one of the many emotions that came bundled up with that complex emotion you couldn't really explain or describe. He didn't think Callen could tell him how he came to love Deeks as a brother, anymore than he could. Joe had never doubted it, Callen wasn't afraid of it anymore and he was unashamed of his own feelings. They were an odd family with painful pasts, who learned late in life that they could find joy in loving each other as brothers. Now all he had to do was manage the fear that stalked that love from the long shadows of this ongoing mission.

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