Season 6, Episode 1: Deep Trouble, Part 2
Callen was surprised when Hetty sent Nell to check him and Sam for injuries instead of coming herself. Nell was competent, of course, but there was only one non-doctor he would ever really trust to assess him — the same person who had once dug a bullet out of Sam's leg while he was undercover.
After the appallingly chosen drinks were downed — and of course G drank because who wouldn't drink a depth charge right after surviving one? — he made his way back to the office. To keep in practice while waiting for Granger to leave, he did a full perimeter sweep, looking for weaknesses, sight-lines, vulnerabilities. Even after six years, there was always a chance something had been missed. By the time he finished, Granger was leaving and Hetty was alone.
He waited just long enough to make sure Granger didn't spot him heading back in before he slipped into the familiar building and followed the only light still on to Hetty's desk.
Hetty held out a bottle of water.
G raised an eyebrow. "What, so Granger gets the good stuff and I don't?"
She shook her head at him. "After what you've been through, and what you've already consumed with your team in the boatshed, I think water is a wise choice. Don't you?"
He shrugged and slid into place. "So. Komodo, huh?"
"Only you would so blithely ignore the fact of your very near death today."
Callen caught an edge in her words and looked more closely. She looked shaken.
"Hetty...I'm sorry. And, believe me, I know how close it was."
"Yes," she said, and the word had weight, "I believe you do."
"And it really wasn't anything we could have prevented. It was just...part of the job."
"No, I know that." She let out a breath. "How many times are we going to do this dance, Mister Callen? How many times will I stand up there in Ops praying that you will live to see another sunrise?"
Callen swallowed, but he didn't back down. "Until the job is over."
And it was the right answer, the only answer, and he hated the grief it gave her.
She nodded and sipped at her own drink for a moment.
"Komodo," she said finally. "Owen said you accosted him?"
She wasn't all right yet, but he could tell she needed this to be normal and he would gladly give her that much. "I wouldn't say accosted. Maybe...prodded."
That won him a sliver of a smile. "Indeed."
"He didn't really tell us anything."
"So far," she said, "there's not much to tell. I've been recalled to Washington to account for my behavior."
G sat forward in his chair. "What are they looking for?"
"I'm not sure, honestly, but I am relatively certain the White Ghost will haunt me while I'm there. Figuratively, of course."
"They're calling you out for saving Kensi?"
"Oh, probably." She waved a hand, settling back into her normal posture. "I've ruffled a lot of feathers in my time, Mister Callen. And chickens do eventually come home to roost, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor."
He shook his head. "It's not right. It's not fair."
"Likely not. But it is also, as you said, part of the job."
There was a twitch like a miniature flinch, one even he almost missed. But it told him enough to look more closely until he could trace the threads of her thoughts. He could see them in her eyes. If he and Sam hadn't made it back, she would have gone to Washington to resign.
"How long will you be gone?" he asked, because he couldn't insult her now by making sure she intended to come back.
"Honestly, I've no idea. You know how our government is. They could draw it out for months if they wished." She held up a hand even as he was opening his mouth. "And, no. You cannot come with me. There is a case which needs your urgent attention, and which you must begin at once. It will take weeks to get you and Mister Hanna in place and we cannot afford any delays."
He sighed. "You'll be all right?"
"Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine." Then, from the folds of her expression came a smirk, like a set of hidden fangs. "I may choose not to play the game of politics, but, I assure you, it is one I can still win handily when necessary."
G smiled back. "Well, if you need tactical support…"
"Do not even consider interrupting any testimony I am forced to give, or, as I told Mister Beale only this afternoon, you will regret it long after your wounds have healed."
He laughed. "Someday you're really going to scare Eric to death."
"I hope not. I've put too much time into breaking him in."
Callen snorted. "In all seriousness, though, you will contact us if you need something?"
"I have my contingencies in play as usual," she said. Which told Callen that she had more than one plan, and at least one of them involved Nell because Nell was Hetty's favorite contingency. It had never bothered him that she put her trust in the analyst instead of himself — Nell thought like Hetty in some ways, and needed the training besides. When Hetty needed someone not to think, but to simply know, he would be there.
Still, he wasn't comfortable with this particular summons. He didn't like her going alone, didn't like her being interviewed or testifying or whatever she was going to do, and he especially didn't like that she had no clear idea what they would be looking for. The uncertainty, and the arbitrariness of it, put him on his guard.
"You're not...they won't reassign you, will they?" he found himself asking.
"I think not, but one never can tell." She must have seen something in his face because she gave him a smile, a real one. "Fear not, Mister Callen. I shall haunt this office long after the politicians think I should be out of the game. No matter what happens in Washington, my work and my home will always be here."
She left the "with you" unspoken, but he heard it anyway.