AN: Well, folks, this is where it all ends! I had tons of fun writing this story, and while I could keep going for hundreds of chapters, I have other things I want to finish and post up here.

I was thinking of adding an Epilogue to this, a sort of peek into what happens in the future...let me know what you think. I hope you all enjoyed this as well! Love you all!

Chapter 26

An alarm buzzed, and a paper target came rolling toward the front of the range, its surface pocked with bullet holes. Most of them were grouped tightly together around center-mass, but two shots had gone slightly askew, hitting what would be the person's left shoulder.

"You're getting better," a voice said from the doorway.

The man who had been practicing turned around to face the newcomer.

"Not good enough," he complained.

Hetty sighed. "Mr. Callen, it's only been a few months since your injury. These things..."

"Take time," he finished sulkily. "I know. That's all I've been hearing since I got the cast off."

"Well, like it or not, it's the truth," his manager replied. "You're very lucky that hand was repairable at all. Had there been just one more fracture, you might have needed metal pins to hold everything together. And even then, you might not have been able to even hold a weapon, much less shoot one."

"Yeah, well...small miracles, right?" He asked as he hung up a fresh target and sent it down the alley. He waited until the buzzer sounded, giving him the all-clear, and then gripped the butt of his gun. He carefully aimed at the target, slid his finger from beside the slide to the trigger, and squeezed it once, then again. The first shot went wide - about 2 inches from the head - but the second was dead on. Taking a deep breath, he shot three more times at one second intervals, giving him just enough time to aim between shots. All three were right on center mass.

Setting his weapon down, Callen grinned at his accuracy. Much better, he thought to himself. Maybe he was finally back to his former self. But as he turned his hand slightly to pick the gun up again he suddenly felt a shooting pain in his palm, one that sent his whole hand numb for a few seconds.

"Dammit!" he shouted as he clutched his right hand in his left and tried to massage the pain away.

Hetty came forward then, both of her hands covering his. "I think you've done enough practicing for today, Mr. Callen."

"I have to..." he began, but she clucked her tongue at him and gently shoved him toward the door.

"What you must do, is rest. There will be plenty of time for this later."

"Hetty, you don't understand..."

Her eyes grew wide behind her already magnifying glasses. "Don't I?" She glanced around as if taking in her surroundings for the first time. "Just how long do you think I have been here, Mr. Callen? In all my years, you find it hard to believe I could have been injured as badly as you were?"

He looked at her, but had the grace to keep silent.

She nodded appreciatively, then said, "The truth is, I have been, and worse. And like you, I desired to prove not only to myself but to my superiors, my friends and my colleagues that I was capable. However, pushing one's self too far before one's body is ready does nothing but cause more pain."

"It's taking too long," he grumbled petulantly. "I need to be ready."

Hetty looked at him as if she were a mother beholding her troublesome but completely endearing son. "It will take as long as it takes. You are already surpassing what even your surgeon believed you capable of at this point. So go." She pointed at the door. "Rest on your laurels."

"Hetty..."

"I could make it an order, but I have the feeling you would disobey that as well." Placing her hand on his arm, she stared up into his bright eyes. "Please."

He looked away, down the alley at his target. She was right; if he overdid it he would only set himself back. But he couldn't help wanting to get back to the way things were before. Still, she was pleading with him; how could he say no to that?

"Okay," he relented. "But I'm not staying away for long."

She smiled. "I would think not."

He cleared his weapon and flipped the safety on, then pulled off his safety glasses and ear protection. Stowing everything on their correct hooks, he took one last look at his target, then stared down at Hetty.

"Do you think I could've beaten him?"

Hetty nodded. "I do, if you had time to prepare."

He pondered that statement for a moment, and while he was doing so Beth's face appeared in the window to the left of the door. She caught his eye and waved to him, and he smiled back.

Hetty also smiled knowingly. "You'd best be going, Mr. Callen. Wouldn't want to keep your partner waiting."

He smirked. "Sam's my partner. Always will be."

"Not in the way I meant," she replied with a lifted eyebrow. "But I suspect you already know that." Once more she pushed him toward the door. "Get moving!"

Laughing, he obeyed her. He left the shooting range and waited until the door had shut behind him before slipping his hand into Beth's and letting her drag him away.

Hetty watched them go and then left the range herself a few moments later. She went to the balcony and saw the pair making their way to the mission's front door, their hands still joined as they talked and laughed. When they reached the threshold, Callen suddenly pulled Beth around to face him and kissed her, then continued on to the parking lot.

Hetty realized then that he hadn't looked back as he usually did. Even if it was just to make a lunch run, he always looked for her either at the balcony or in her office. The ritual amused her; he was a grown man, and as such most definitely did not need reassurance from anyone, even her. And yet, she felt just as comforted by it as he must have.

He had only neglected to do it once, but she knew he would never search for her again. He no longer needed her. And while it hurt, it also felt good. She could stop worrying about the day that she wasn't around, about how he would handle it.

A sad smile on her aging face, she softly said, "Goodbye, Mr. Callen."

The End.