Paris
Paris was a beautiful city. He'd always thought so. It was the only city he'd ever been to where he felt at home the minute he got there.
Usually, when he arrived in a city, it took him a while to get his bearings. He had to spend some time with maps or a GPS, walking the streets, figuring out the parts of the city that would provide the safest cover or the most accessible resources or the best place to lay low. But not Paris. He walked into the middle of the city and felt instantly at ease.
Paris felt like something he'd been waiting for. And it had seemed to be waiting for him too. As if it was just sitting there – life going on day to day – waiting for the moment he'd arrive and say hello.
He felt safe in Paris, even though he was almost always in danger when he was there. There was always a mission … always something that had to be accomplished. But that was okay. It made Paris seem more exciting. And it made it seem like they had something in common.
Yes, Paris was beautiful.
Sam's voice popped Callen out of his reverie and back to the car he and Sam were sitting in, at a stakeout in San Bernadino. Definitely NOT Paris.
"Where you been, G?" Sam said. "Your body may be here, but your mind is definitely in another zip code." And then Sam asked him what he was thinking about.
"Paris," he replied.
"The city?" Sam asked. "Or the girl?"
Callen turned to look back out the window.
"I don't know yet."
