Luckily, Sam knew the guard stationed at Camp Pendleton's main gate so he didn't have to disturb the sleeping Callen to get him to show his CAC card. Sam drove around to the base until he came to the hospital. Parking the Challenger out front, he shut off the engine which roused Callen.
Tiredly, the injured agent leveraged himself off the crinkly plastic and followed Sam into the base's clinic. Though it was a marine base, the NCIS office had made arrangements for their agents to be discretely seen by doctors. It allowed their injured personnel to maintain more anonymity than in a public hospital.
Sam was happy to hear from the front desk that Dr. Marx was working tonight. He'd seen Callen a few times in the past and was well aware of the agent's dislike for anything medical. Dr. Marx had Callen's number and did not put up with the agent's hijinks. The two men were ushered into a private examination room and less than a minute later, the door opened and Dr. Marx joined them.
He took one look at Callen's blood stained shirt. "I'm guessing you are the patient, though knowing you, I don't know why that would surprise me. Hop on the table while I call up your records."
Callen obediently did as he was told having learned a long time ago that defying Dr. Marx never led to anything good.
The doctor read over Callen's history to refresh his memory. "Interesting. It says a few weeks back you were poisoned with cyanide, quite a large quantity. How is it you are still here?" he questioned, spinning around in his chair to face the men.
"He stuck himself with a giant needle of hydroxocobalamin," Sam answered for his partner.
The doctor pursed his lips. "I'm impressed Agent Callen, especially knowing your affinity for needles. I'm assuming you have had the customary follow up blood work." He stopped and shook his head. "Whom am I kidding," he said as he rose, opened the door and stuck his head out. "Nurse Kinder. I need blood drawn." He shut the door and went back to the computer. "You remember Nurse Kinder don't you Agent Callen?" he casually tossed over his shoulder as he went back to reading Callen's file.
Callen certainly did remember Nurse Kinder and it made him shudder. She was built like a Sherman tank; she made Sam look petite. He was pretty sure she was a weight-lifter in her former life before she became a nurse. In Callen's short list of 'women that scared him', she was tied with Sam's wife Michelle for second place, right behind his ninja boss, Hetty. He had only tried his antics once on her and it had ended badly, really badly.
When no-nonsense Nurse Kinder came into the room, a determined woman on a mission with her tubes, needles and rubber gloves, Callen actually shrank back a little in fear. Sam started to snicker seeing his partner so cowed by this tough nurse, until she turned her fierce blue eyes on him and he immediately sobered up, wiping the smile off his face. "Sorry," he muttered, a bit intimidated by her piercing glare. She gave Sam a curt nod, satisfied she had him cowed. She turned back to her patient and swiftly and competently drew three vials of blood. Callen sat their like a choir boy. A piece of gauze secured by a stretchy, sticky cloth bandage, just below the elbow, and she was gone. Sam heard Callen sigh in relief when the door closed.
"Rush that please. Toxic screen too," the doctor requested as Nurse Kinder left the room. "So efficient. I wish I had ten more just like her."
Callen secretly thought they broke the mold after making Nurse Kinder or more likely she broke the mold, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
"Wanna take that shirt off for me, Agent Callen," the doctor requested and Callen complied, dropping it on the nearby chair. The doctor looked again at the ruined, blood-stained, once teal, silk shirt. "One of Hetty's?"
Callen sadly shook his head affirmatively.
"Not good," the Doc said as he took his stethoscope from around his neck. "Is that all your blood?" he asked as he placed the disc end against Callen's chest.
Callen nodded again.
"Deep breaths. So you can't blame it on someone else. Tough break. I wouldn't want to be there when you have to explain that to Hetty." Changing the subject he moved on. "Suppose you tell me how you got the knife wound."
Callen relayed the entire story, his voice breaking at times as the doctor prodded his wound. Finally, Dr. Marx stopped, took a step back and folded his arms over his chest. His voice held a twinge of admiration when he spoke again. "I have to say whoever delivered that stab did an excellent job. It is clean, missed all the bones, muscles and other important vessels. A really professional job."
"Gee thanks Doc. I'd thank him but he is in no condition to listen," Callen said a bit sarcastically.
The Doctor chuckled. "I apologize. I suppose that did not come out right. What I probably should have said is it is a very clean and with a few stitches is going to heal nicely. Keep your arm in a sling for a few days, to allow it to heal, and you will be as good as new. Not even going to need PT."
"Great," Callen said less than enthusiastically.
"While we're waiting for the blood work to come back, I'll send Nurse Kinder back in here to stitch you up." Panic flared in Callen's eyes and the doctor laughed. "Joking. I'll do it. Sit tight while I get a kit." He walked out of the room leaving Sam and Callen alone.
"Isn't this fun," Sam goaded. "I don't know about you, but I am highly entertained. I really like that Nurse Kinder."
"Shut up," Callen muttered as the Doctor came back with a suture kit.
"After I disinfect the area, I am going to numb it with lidocaine. Don't worry Agent Callen. It is the kind you rub on. No needles."
Callen shot a triumphant look at Sam. "See. I told you they make a cream. Hetty is too mean to buy it. She gets the needles just to torture me."
Dr. Marx glanced up from the wound he was disinfecting. "Had some experience with lidocaine?"
Sam snorted. "Hetty orders it in bulk for him. Along with ice packs and aspirin."
The doctor laughed again as he went about his work. A little while later the wound was stitched and dressed. Throwing his rubber gloves away, he said, "Chill out here until the blood work results come back. It should be within the hour.
After the doctor left the room, Callen let his head sink back on the raised bed and closed his eyes. Stress and exhaustion overcame him and Sam watched as his partner drifted off to sleep. Sam quietly left the room for a moment to place a call back to Ops and bring Hetty up to date. When he was done he eased back into the room to watch over his friend.
As promised, less than an hour later, Dr. Marx was back with the blood work results. Always the agent, Callen immediately woke when the door to the room opened.
"Interesting results," Dr. Marx said without a preamble. "There are still traces of cyanide in your system. Have you been noticing any unusual symptoms?"
Callen replied 'no' way too quickly and Sam's six-sense about his partner sent out a warning signal and he made a mental note.
"No headaches? Dizziness? Nausea? Restlessness?" the doctor probed further.
"How would that be any different than normal," Sam quipped earning him a dirty look from Callen.
The doctor went back to reading the results. "I am willing to bet you have been having bouts of dizziness, haven't you Agent Callen?"
When Callen didn't reply, the doctor tapped on the report. "The drug that they used to knock you out in the club is still in your system. It and the cyanide are interacting and I would bet my extensive degrees that you are having problems at least with dizziness if not more."
Sighing, Callen admitted guilt. "Yes. You're right. I did get dizzy a couple of times during the mission but," he hastily added, "it passed quickly."
"Don't worry Agent Callen. It won't sideline you for long. The drugs are breaking down. However exertion will bring on the dizziness, so take it easy over the weekend, keep that arm in a sling and you will be fit for duty on Monday."
A feeling of relief washed over Callen.
The doctor tried one more time. "Are you sure there are no other residual effects of the cyanide poisoning? For example, it's not uncommon for people to experience trembling in their extremities for a few months after the poisoning. You did ingest a very large dose."
Sam watched his partner's face closely as he answered the Doctor and immediately knew Callen was lying; it wasn't easy to tell but Sam was hundred percent sure he was correct. His partner was experiencing tremors like that marine and was hiding it.
Callen held out his two hands and other than wincing as he pulled the wound on his shoulder, his hands remained rock solid. He dropped them back to his side. "We done here?"
The Doctor sighed. "Yes. You are officially released unlike last time when you snuck out."
"And you ratted me out to Hetty," Callen reminded him. "It wasn't a pretty picture when she found me."
"I like that woman," the doctor said with a grin. "Ok, discharge instructions; rest, sling, and extra strength Tylenol for the pain unless you'd like me to write you a prescription for something stronger?"
"Nope," Callen said sliding off the table as he reached for his grungy shirt.
Sam yanked it away before he could touch it. "You aren't putting that filthy thing back on."
"What do you expect me to do? Walk into Ops naked?" Callen demanded.
"Kensi going into Ops without a shirt might raise an eyebrow or two." Sam paused a beat. "More likely, she'd cause a few heart attacks, starting with Deeks. You, not so much. It would be a prettier site if you spent a little less timing lifting strips of bacon and a little more time lifting weights to define your abs." He reached out a gently slapped Callen's bare stomach. "Oh, and you're not going back to Ops. What part of rest didn't you get?"
Dr. Marx solved the clothing problem. "There are shirts around here. I'll have Nurse Kinder grab one for you." He took a plastic bag off a nearby counter and handed it to Sam. "Put Hetty's ex-shirt in this, so you can at least return the evidence. I assume that is preferable to telling her you lost it." He addressed the last comment to Callen.
"Been there done that. Boss lady doesn't take kindly to lost items," Callen said mournfully.
Dr. Marx chuckled as he left the room. "I do love that woman." A few minutes later Nurse Kinder returned with a dark blue t-shirt and a sling for Callen's arm. Callen cringed when she entered the room, and he snatched the items from her hand outstretched hand, like a feral dog taking a piece of meat from a stranger.
Nurse Kinder turned her blue eyes on Callen. "Do you need help getting the shirt on?" she asked in a gravelly voice.
Callen shrank further away as he said, "No thank you," in his best well-behaved voice. "My partner will help me. He's dressed me before. He's takes good care of me," he added for good measure.
The nurse raised an eyebrow and studied Sam, before grinning slightly and leaving the room.
Callen saw the slight smirk on her face as she departed. "Did she misunderstand me, Sam?"
Sam shrugged. "Guess you won't have to worry about her giving you her phone number now."
Callen scowled unhappily at the closed door.
"Look, your favorite color," Sam teased as he assisted Callen in easing the shirt over his injured shoulder. He handed Callen the sling and glared at him until he put it on and secured his arm.
The two agents walked out into the night to where the car was parked. Callen opened the passenger's door with his good arm and glared down at the tarp. "I'm not bleeding. Can't you take this thing out?"
"No way," Sam said sliding behind the wheel of the Challenger. "I heard the doctor say vomiting was a residual side effect of cyanide poisoning. I'm not taking any chances. Get in."
Grumbling, Callen plopped down and the blue plastic crinkled merrily as he squirmed to buckle his seat belt and find a comfortable position. They drove off the base and Sam turned onto the freeway.
"This isn't the way back to Ops," Callen pointed out. "My car is there."
"So."
"So, where are we going?"
"Back to your place..." Callen's frown grew as Sam continued to talk. "...where you are going to pack a bag."
Warily, Callen asked, "We going on a road trip?"
"Yep. To my house for the whole weekend. Just you, me and Michelle."
Callen rolled his eyes. "I've seen that movie. It didn't end well for the hero. Where's your daughter?"
"At her cousins for two weeks."
Callen shook his head. "I don't want to intrude on yours and Michelle's alone time."
"I insist." Sam reached forward and pressed Michelle's speed dial button on the Challenger's display and the car dialed her number. This was a trick Sam had successfully employed before with his partner.
"What are you doing?" Callen asked with trepidation.
"Calling the number two lady on your 'scary women's' list," Sam responded smugly.
Callen bit his lip, then like he did in the past, quickly reached out and pressed cancel. "Isn't there room for negotiations? How about I call you once a day."
"Ha. You won't call. Besides, I won't be able to yell at you when you take your arm out of that sling if you aren't under house arrest!"
Callen looked down and sure enough, he had taken his arm out of the sling. Worse part was he didn't even remember doing it. Suddenly another feeling overcame him and he shouted to Sam, "Pull over!"
"Why? You wanna walk home?"
"Now," Callen warned.
A sideway glance at his partner had Sam heading for the shoulder and braking the car. Callen flung the door open and decorated the freeway with the contents of his stomach. When he was done, he shakily climbed back in the car.
"You know I'm never gonna take the tarp out of the car now. You good?" Sam asked with a touch of irony.
"That was the doctor's fault... and yours," Callen said with his eyes tightly shut.
As Sam pulled back into the flow of traffic, he couldn't resist. "How is that the doctor's fault? Or mine? We didn't stick our fingers down your throat."
"Didn't have to. Power of suggestion. You both kept insisting that I should feel that way and it worked," Callen pleated plaintively.
"Funny. That's not quite the way I remember it. I recall Dr. Marx asking you if you had any symptoms and you vehemently denying everything."
Callen circled back to his original argument. "Power of suggestion."
Sam chuckled. "You are a highly trained operative and you are telling me that a mere doctor was able to plant a suggestion in your head that made you vomit?"
With pouty lips Callen responded, "I'm sick. In a weakened state."
Sam tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Now there's something we can agree on. You are sick."
Callen gave up. There was no way he was going to win this battle so he closed his eyes and suffered in silence.