By Tuesday evening, Rachael's fear and reluctance to talk to Callen hadn't diminished. It had grown.

"I just can't," she muttered as she mixed feed for the next morning. "I can't do it. I can't talk to G. I don't have an answer." These sentences played over and over in her head as she finished feeding the horses and eating her own dinner.

"Alright," she finally said as she put her dishes in the dishwasher. "If I can't talk to G, then what can I do?" She thought quietly for a moment. "Well," she started slowly, "if I stay, I'll have to talk to G eventually. Sam won't run interference forever. So . . . I guess the only thing to do is to leave."

As she spoke those words, what was left of her heart shattered. Tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes. She had grown to love the farm, the apartment, and the team. She knew she would have to leave eventually,, but she didn't think it would be this soon. She let herself cry silently for a minute before setting her grief aside and wiping the tears off her face.

"Okay," she said, sniffling. "What do I need to do to be able to leave? I guess the first step is to decide when I'm leaving," she answered herself. "It would be best if I left sooner rather than later. Sam can't hold G off for much longer. I also need to let Hetty know. So, what if I leacve on Friday and send Hetty a note tomorrow? That would give her two days' notice, and while it's not the ideal situation, it's better than nothing.

She pasued and then nodded once. "That's what I'll do. I'll send her the note tomorrow." She started walking to her room. Halfway there, a thought stopped her. "Who will I get to take the note?" she asked aloud. "I normally send them through G, but that's obviously not an option . . ." She snapped her fingers as a solution came to mind. "Sam. I can ask Sam." She resumed walking to her room as she pulled out her cell phone to text Sam.

Once in her room, she went over to the desk and sat down. She opened her computer. "Now to write the thing," she muttered.

By the time she had fumbled her way through what was actually her letter of resignation, Sam had agreed to come the next morning to pick up the note. He had also asked if she planned on talking to G soon. She had bought herself some time by lying ad saying she hoped to in a couple of days.

Pushing aside the guilt of lying to Sam, Rachael set herself to the task of waiting out the long night.

Waiting for Sam the next morning, she was a bundle of nerves. As she had feared, the night had been long and, unfortunately, sleepless. I just hope he doesn't notice the bags under my eyes, she thought as she finished feeding and mucking. She heard a car in the driveway, grabbed her note out of the tack room, and went to meet it.

It was Sam, and he was still in his running car. He rolled down the window. "Hey," he said. "I would get out, but I'm in a hurry. Hetty just called and said to get to OPS ASAP."

"That's totally fine," Rachael replied. She handed the envelope to Sam. "Here it is. Please give it to Hetty at your first opportunity. And thank you for agreeing to take it."

"You're welcome, and I will," he said as he accepted it. "Have a good day, Rachael!"

"You too!" she replied as he rolled up the window. He turned and rolled out of the driveway. Rachael stayed where she was until he was out of sight. "Now to go pack," she said, turning back towards her apartment.

Sam signed as he walked through the doors of OPS. The air conditioning was a nice change after the heat that was already too intense. Even the five second walk from his car to the door was too much.

He set his bag down at his desk and turned to go up to the situation room. As he turned, he saw Hetty at her desk. All of a sudden, he remembered the envelope that Rachael had given him. He pulled it out of his bag and went over to Hetty,

"Hetty," he said as he approached.

The old spy looked up at him. "Ah, Mr. Hanna. There you are. I was wondering when you would be in."

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "I just had to go pick this up from Rachael." He handed her the envelope. "I' supposed to give it to you at my first opportunity."

"Thank you very much," she said as she took it, opened it, and began to read it.

Sam was about to turn and walk away when Hetty's face fell. He sat down instead. "What does it say?" he asked, concerned.

"It appears that Ms. Hughes will be leaving us shortly," she replied, folding the letter and setting it down on her desk. Sorrow was etched on her face.

"How short are we talking about?"

"According to this, Friday," she said.

Sam sat back as he absorbed the implications. "That's in two days. That's really soon," he said aloud. She's not actually going to talk to G, he thought.

"Yes. Yes it is." Hetty thought for a moment. "That changes things," she finally said aloud. She focused on Sam. "Go join the team upstairs. Eric has an important update for you all on this case. And Mr. Hanna," she continued as Sam stood up to leave. "It might be best if we don't tell Mr. Callen about this. The case is difficult enough for him. I would hate to add this as well."

"Will do, Hetty," Sam replied. He looked up the stairs and saw the rest of the team coming down. Guess G will have to fill me in, he thought. He fell in with the others as they walked to the bull pen. He bypassed his desk to get coffee. Since he had to pick up Rachael's resignation, he didn't have time to grab some before coming in.

Kensi sidled over to him as he poured himself a cup. "Hey," she said in a quiet voice. "What were you and Hetty talking about?"

"Nothing important," Sam replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He gazed over the brim at Callen, who was sitting at his desk.

"Yes it was," she insisted. "It kept you out of an important update, and I saw both of your faces. You guys looked like something horrible happened. And whatever it is, you're not supposed to tell Callen."

"You know, I think reading lips is classified as eavesdropping," Sam said, the annoyance in his voice softened by the small smile on his face.

Kensi shrugged. "Too late. And if you don't tell me, I'll sic Deeks on you. Then Callen will find out for sure."

Sam grimaced at the thought of being pestered by Deeks. "Fine," he surrendered. "But like you read, don't tell G."

Callen looked up and saw Kensi and Sam talking quietly in the kitchen. I wonder what they're talking about, he thought. Probably just filling him in on the most recent developments. He dismissed the question and turned back to the piece of paper in his hand. He briefly glanced up again and saw both of them looking at him with what seemed like pity in their eyes. What the hell? He wondered. His misgivings were cut short by his phone ringing. I'll find out later, he decided as he answered the call.

Later on that day, he and Sam were in the Challenger driving to talk to a suspect. "How far away is this guy again?" Callen asked.

"An hour in good traffic," Sam replied. He gently hit the steering wheel with his hand. "Which this is not."

"Lovely," Callen sighed. He stayed silent for a moment. "What were you and Kensi talking about this morning?"

"Kensi and I talked about a lot of things this morning," Sam replied, checking traffic in the other lanes. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"It was right after we came down from the situation room," Callen reminded him. "You had just come out of Hetty's office and were getting coffee."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Sam grunted as he changed lanes.

Callen stared at his partner in disbelief. "You're hiding something," he said incredulously. "You know exactly what conversation I'm talking about. You just don't want to tell me." He shook his head and sat back in his seat.

Sam stayed silent for a moment. "What if I don't want to tell you because it would be better for you if I didn't? Did you consider that?"

"Isn't that for me to decide?" Callen snapped.

"Not when it could affect the entire team," Sam snapped back. "This case is already difficult enough as it is. We don't need you distracted on top of it."

"It's still my life!" Callen replied angrily. "Not that I have much of a life," he continued quietly. "Since Rachael - " Callen stopped short suddenly. His mind made connections. "You're hiding something about Rachael," he said slowly. He recalled the looks of pity that Sam and Kensi, and later Deeks, had that morning. "Something bad. Something I'm not going to like. Like she's leaving." He shot Sam a look. "Am I right?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Sam said gruffly.

"Damn it, answer me!" Callen yelled, slapping the dashboard. "She's my girlfriend! I deserve to know! Wouldn't you want to know if Michelle was leaving, no matter what case we were working?" he challenged.

Sam was silent for a moment. "You're right," he finally said quietly. "She's leaving on Friday."

Callen sat back as he absorbed the information. "So soon?" he asked in a broken voice.

"According to her letter of resignation that I delivered this morning," Sam confirmed.

Callen nodded, processing the information. "Well, we'll just have to solve this case by Friday then."

By the time she was heading down to feed the horses Friday morning, Rachael was almost ready to leave.

"Hopefully I'll be out of here by noon," she muttered to herself. "And hopefully Hetty has someone to take care of the horses." She hadn't heard a word from Hetty or the rest of the team since she sent her resignation through Sam. "They probably have a hard case though," she answered her unspoken question.

As she turned the corner to go into the barn, Rachael started making a mental note of everything that still needed to be done. "The buckets need to be relabeled, update the feeding chart without Jet . . . " she muttered. She took the breakfast to the horses, giving Jet his breakfast first and then the others. She saved Bluebird for last.

"Hey boy," she said quietly as she dumped his feed into his bucket. He nickered his appreciation and dug in. She stood there for a minute, petting his neck. "I'm going to miss you the most," she said, almost crying.

He took his head out of the bucket and looked at her. He pressed his head against her chest, trapping her between him and the fence almost as if he was keeping her from leaving. "I know buddy," she whispered. "I don't want to leave." She wrapped her arms around his head. "We've spent a lot of time together lately, haven't we?" she murmured. They stood like that for a moment longer before Bluebird lifted his head out of her arms and resumed eating. Rachael gave a watery laugh as she patted him on the neck.

I hate leaving them when I don't know who's going to take care of them, she thought. Nightmares of the horses being neglected after she left had kept her up the past two nights.

"There's nothing I can do about it though," Rachael said out loud as she made the feed up for the evening. AS she left the tack room, she realized that she had made Jet's food and put it in with the others out of habit. She also realized that she just fed the horses for the last time. Her sorrow increasing, she grabbed the bucket and took it to the trailer, which still wasn't hooked up to her truck. Shaking her head at how slow she was at leaving, she set the bucket down just inside the trailer door and went back to the barn to start her to do list.

Sam jogged from the armory to his desk. Where is it? he asked himself as he rummaged through the pieces of paper on his desk.

"Mr. Hanna."

Sam spun around, ready to strike whoever was behind him. He stopped mid-attack when he realized it was Hetty. "Don't do that, Hetty!" he exclaimed. "I almost killed you, and my heart will take until next week to recover."

"I am dreadfully sorry about that," she apologized. "But I wanted to catch you alone." She took a step closer. "Does Mr. Callen know?" she asked in a low voice.

"About Rachael?" Sm clarified, also in a low voice. At Hetty's nod, he continued, "Yes. He figured it out on Wednesday. But he still seems to be focused on the case. More so since he found out."

"That is very interesting," Hetty noted. "Well, stay safe out there, Mr. Hanna. I don't want to lose any of you today."

"Will do, Hetty," Sam replied.

Callen walked back into OPS later that day with the rest of the team. "Good job, guys," he said as they stowed their Kevlar vests and weapons. "And everyone's still in one piece? No bullet scratches or shrapnel wounds?" They had just come from a suspect apprehension that turned into a gun fight amidst a bombing.

"I'm good," Kensi said.

"Same here," Sam replied.

"I am if you don't count - " Deeks began.

"Deeks," Callen interjected, "I'm talking about physical wounds, not any wounds to your ego from the number of times Kesni saved you."

"Then yeah, I'm good," the detective said ruefully.

"Wonderful," Callen said. He tuned out Kensi starting to tease Deeks and turned to Sam. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "You good?" he asked in a quiet voice.

He nodded. "Go," he said. Callen nodded and ran to his car. Once he was pulling out of the parking lot, he called Eric.

"Hey," the tech answered. "I saw the team was back, but you're not. Where are you?"

"On my way out of town," Callen answered. "Listen, I need you to get a location on Rachael's cell immediately."

"Okay, on it," Eric answered. For the first time, Callen was grateful for all the trouble over the summer. Rachael had been in enough trouble that Eric didn't question him. Callen heard the sound of typing and then, "Got her. She's still at the safe house. Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Thanks Eric. Call me if moves." Callen hung up the phone and set it in the cup holder. Please don't let me be late, he thought.

As he drove the familiar drive to the farm, his thoughts were racing faster than his speeding car. Why would she leave without talking to me? he wondered, allowing the hurt associated with that thought to surface. Does she hate me that much? Does she think I hate her that much? Why wouldn't she reach out to me?

As he drove, he turned those questions over in his mind, trying to guess what could be going through her head. He kept coming back to the first question. He realized that he was hurt deeply by the fact that Rachael wouldn't voluntarily talk to him. I thought that, though broken, we had a better relationship than that, he thought. He briefly bowed his head as grief and shame washed over him for what he did. Of course, it's my fault that its broken in the first place, so I really don't have much room to complain.

As he made the next turn, Callen realized he was turning into Rachael's driveway. He slowly drove up, half expecting to see her truck and trailer come around the corner at any minute. He stopped half way up the driveway. "This is a good spot," he muttered. He positioned the car so it blocked the entire width of the driveway. He then got out and went to his back seat to pull out a few things. He paused half way through the motion as he heard the crunch of tires on gravel coming down the driveway. The vehicle was moving slowly. Just in time, he thought as he grabbed his phone and dialed.