Well, this is another chapter that I found very tough to write, not because it has a lot of dialogue, but because of the kind of dialogue. It's mostly Callen and Nate. I hope it answers some questions and makes sense based on the earlier chapters (Callen's been heading in this direction for awhile). Thanks for reading and, as always, let me know what you think.

Chapter 21

The sounds of the seagulls and the distant hum of cars on the street filtered into the boatshed while Nate waited. Callen bowed his head slightly and placed the fingertips of his hands on either side of his head, resting his elbows on the chair's arms. Nate couldn't see Callen's eyes, but his face remained still, his breathing almost imperceptible.

"What was I thinking?" Callen repeated, in a voice that was quiet and at a pace that reflected deep thought. A few more minutes passed during which time Nate took a sip of water, but did nothing except wait. "I thought about Michelle."

Nate furrowed his brow and leaned forward. "Michelle Hanna? Sam's wife?" Callen nodded in the affirmative, but said nothing. Nate sat silent. When Callen wasn't going to offer an explanation, Nate finally asked, "Why?"

Callen raised his eyes to Nate, but kept his head supported by his fingertips. "I saw her taken."

"You thought you and Anna were being taken?"

"Taken, killed." Callen lowered his eyes. "Without knowing who or why." He raised his eyes again and squinted at Nate, "Did Anna know?"

Nate shook his head, "No. She saw someone, before losing consciousness, but she didn't know who or why. Not then." He leaned back in the sofa, "Anything else?"

"No," Callen said, speaking into the floor.

"And when you woke up in the room at the business park, what were you thinking?"

Callen raised his head slightly and looked straight ahead, past Nate, past the boatshed wall.

XXXXXXX

Hetty and Beale returned to OSP from their field trip to the Mojave a little past noon. Hetty parked a block away from headquarters, and once Beale had removed his sleep mask and seat belt, he retrieved the cart from the cargo area for her and offered to wheel it back to OSP, but she graciously declined.

"Thank you, Mr. Beale, but I'm perfectly capable. You may want to put in your phone battery to see if you have had any calls or texts while we've been away."

"Oh, right," Beale said and fumbled for his phone and battery. Once he had the battery back in, his phone exploded with both texts and calls.

Hetty led the way, and when they entered OSP, Hetty headed straight for the armory to unload her cart, and Mr. Beale headed upstairs, answering texts as he went. Hetty returned to her desk carrying only the small plastic container with the small chips that she had removed from Katya's body. She placed the container on her desk and then prepared a pot of her strongest tea. She had little doubt that what was now on her desk was what every agency was actively pursuing. As she took her seat and held up the container, studying the chips, she was sure that the information contained on them was not worth the lives lost in pursuit of it or of Katya, for that matterr. She was, however, glad that she had recovered them and that Katya was no longer a threat to anyone. She leaned back and let out a sigh. She hoped that Mr. Getz was having as much success as she had had this morning, but she also realized that what he was doing was much more difficult than finding and retrieving chips from a dead body.

XXXXXXX

"Nothing."

Nate cocked his head and leaned back in his seat. He took out his phone. "When do you want to meet again, Callen?" Callen's eyes bore into Nate, but Nate didn't flinch. He returned Callen's stare. "Maybe after more time passes, you'll decide to be honest with me."

"You don't think I'm being honest?"

"I know you're not being honest." Nate waited for Callen to say anything, and when he didn't, he continued. "You just told me that when you woke up in a strange room, alone, completely naked, and tied to a bed, you thought nothing." He paused to let that sink in. "Would you believe you?"

Callen lifted his head off his fingertips, dropped his hands to his lap, and looked around the room, avoiding Nate's eyes. Callen wanted to rub his hands together but couldn't because of the bandages. Nate watched and waited.

"No, I wouldn't believe me," Callen replied after a number of moments had passed. He looked at Nate and smiled slightly. Then his smile disappeared, "How much has Anna told you about what happened in that room?"

"She's told me enough for me to know that you would be thinking, and feeling, something as soon as you regained consciousness."

Callen relented. He could play this game as well as Nate. Give Nate what he wanted to hear and he could go home. "You're right. I did think and feel something." Nate settled back and waited. Now that Callen knew Anna had probably told Nate most of what had happened, he wouldn't have to go into minute detail about what Anna had done to him. "Confusion, first," Callen said.

"That'd be normal after being heavily drugged, especially with BZ," Nate noted.

"And alone." Callen paused and stole a glance at his wrists as though he could feel the restraints again.

"And about your . . . situation?"

"You mean being naked?"

"Naked and basically shackled."

Callen looked at Nate and grinned a little, "That wasn't a first for me." Then his expression grew serious and he looked away. "Not knowing what had happened to Anna," he said and the pain of that memory was etched in his voice.

"She said she heard you call her name. That's how she knew you were alive."

Knowing that Anna had heard him brought it all back to Callen, and his focus shifted to that moment and he forgot about the game he was playing with Nate. "I saw Anna come in with Katya. Anna didn't look hurt," he said and sounded relieved. "Then her hands were free," he continued and his shoulders tightened and his jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed as he continued, "Anna attacked Katya. They fought." The tension in his voice increased and his head tilted down, his sight centered on his memory "Anna fell. I couldn't help her. Katya was on top of her, beating her." His voice was agitated, sharp. "I couldn't help her. I tried, but I couldn't help her. Katya was only a few feet from me, and I couldn't stop her. She could have killed Anna, and I couldn't have stopped her."

There was silence for several minutes. Nate stood up and walked out of Callen's direct line of sight. He made a point to not look directly at Callen, but he watched him out of the corner of his eye. Callen gradually released the tension in his body and lifted his eyes, but he didn't lift his head. When Nate saw the tension drain from Callen's body, he returned to his seat on the sofa and waited. After more minutes of silence passed, Nate spoke. "You felt helpless."

"I was helpless." Callen raised his head and stared directly at Nate, repeating in anger, "I was helpless." He shook his head, "What good was I if I couldn't save Anna?" And, without warning, the anger and self-recrimination poured out. "Do you know how many people I haven't been able to save, Nate? Do you have any idea of how many times I've failed people that matter to me or that I've been responsible for? How many times I've watched people die, people I care about, people who mattered to me? Dom, Renko, Hunter, Reinhadt, Michelle, my father. And before NCIS, it was the same. Even in foster care I couldn't save kids I cared about!" His expression changed from one of anger to one of tormented grief. "How can I say I'm good at what I do when I can't save people I care about? I'm not good at what I do unless what I do is get people I care about killed. What is the point of catching criminals if I lose people who matter to me? Why keep doing what I do when it puts others in danger? Other people die, but not me, not me! Innocent people. Anna shouldn't trust me to keep her safe. I can't. I can't. She'll get hurt or killed if she stays with me. I want her to be safe, and she won't be safe with me. She won't be." Callen grabbed his crutches and struggled up and out of the chair and headed out.

Nate waited a few minutes, giving Callen time alone to decompress and calm down before he stood up and headed out.

XXXXXXX

Hetty carried the container with the two small chips up to Ops. Eric was engaged in a conversation with Nell about where he and Hetty "didn't" go which ended as soon as Hetty entered. She brought the container with the chips to Beale as he and Nell turned to face her and handed it to him.

"Mr. Beale, I need you to download whatever information is contained on these chips to a flash drive and then bring the flash drive directly to me, but you are not to access the information. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Hetty. Perfectly clear," he said holding the container but staring at Hetty.

"And I need you to do it now."

He jumped as if he'd been bitten and she watched as he immediately got to work. She knew he was tops in his field, and yet sometimes it was difficult for her to believe that he was capable of functioning in the outside world.

Hetty left Ops and returned to her office. She wanted to give Mr. Getz a call to see how his session was progressing, but he had assured her that he would contact her as soon as he felt he had something worth reporting. Waiting was not something she was particularly good at even now, but the longer she continued in the profession, the more she realized its value. She could not, however, sit at her desk when there were other ways of waiting. She stood up and headed to the gym for the climbing wall and then, later perhaps, some time on the firing range.

XXXXXXX

Nate walked out of the boatshed and found Callen standing, staring out to sea. He approached him quietly but made enough noise so that Callen knew he was there before he spoke.

"You know, Callen, I think Anna would tell you she isn't with you because she needs, or wants, someone to keep her safe." There was no reaction from Callen, so Nate continued. He needed to reengage Callen, and he decided it was time to be more direct, "You're not responsible for those deaths you mentioned. And you're not responsible for what happened to you and Anna." Callen remained silent. "Maybe you should just quit NCIS, leave Anna, and go live all alone in some remote corner of the world. That seems to be the kind of life you want, Callen."

Callen turned and looked at Nate in disbelief, "That's not the life I want." Callen thought he knew what sort of life he wanted, but he couldn't explain why he didn't think he'd ever get it or deserve it. He'd survived for years without blowing his own or someone else's head off, and he put that down to his self-control, but his self-control hadn't given him the life he desperately wanted for himself. Maybe it all came back to why he couldn't make any relationship last. He needed to know because he knew, really knew, he didn't want to live alone anymore.

"Sure, it is," Nate continued. "It's the perfect life for you." Now that Callen was willing to engage again, Nate needed to try and get him to confront more of the issues that lay beneath his surface, to dig deeper into his feelings and emotions. Callen carried within himself a great—an overwhelmingly unrealistic—sense of personal responsibility for others. Nate knew that the life he described wasn't the life Callen wanted. That was obvious because of Callen's continual, unsuccessful attempts to form relationships, but until Callen understood why he was standing in his own way, he would never get out of the way. "You think you're responsible for people you care about, so if you won't stop feeling responsible but also can't stand feeling responsible, the only thing for you to do is to live where you won't be around anyone you might care about and feel responsible for."

Callen couldn't believe Nate was suggesting he leave everything he knew, his entire life, behind. His brow furrowed in confusion, he looked at Nate and then looked back to the sea and then looked at Nate again. He asked haltingly, "And what if I don't want to live a life cut off from the people I care about? Aren't you supposed to help me live the kind of life I want?"

"Yes, I am supposed to help you, Callen," Nate replied. "That's what I'm trying to do. That's why I need you to be honest with me, but much more importantly, I need you to be honest with yourself."

Callen looked out to the sea, then down at the ground, and then, without looking at Nate, headed back into the boatshed. Nate took out his phone and sent a short text message to Hetty—making progress—and followed Callen inside.

Nate walked over to the frig to grab another bottle of water for himself and asked Callen, sitting in his previous spot, if he wanted anything.

"Water."

Nate brought two waters back and settled down on the sofa. He put Callen's water on the table and took a swig from his bottle. Then he leaned back and gave Callen a moment to relax.

"So, Callen, Anna's told me what happened at the business park. Now I need you to tell me."

"Fun times," Callen said without looking up and then unscrewed the bottle and drank.

"That's not how Anna described it."

"How did she describe it?"

Nate paused in thought and watched Callen's reaction as he replied, "Traumatic. Horrifying. Devastating. Painful." He waited in case Callen wanted to say something, but when he remained silent, Nate continued, "That's her description of how she felt." Callen remained silent, thinking. Nate asked him, "You didn't have similar feelings?"

Instead of answering, Callen asked, "Did Anna say why she felt that way?"

"She hated herself, hated what she was doing, hated hurting you." Nate leaned forward, "And she was afraid—terrified—that you would never forgive her."

"There's no reason for me to forgive her," Callen said.

"So, you don't forgive her?" Nate asked, digging for clarification.

"There's nothing to forgive." Callen took another drink of water and sat back, looking at Nate with the patience of a parent explaining something to a child. "Nothing Anna did to me was her choice; she did what she did because she had to do it to keep us both alive. I knew that. I blame Katya," he hesitated before he continued, "and I blame myself for . . ."

After several more moments had passed and both men had almost emptied their water bottles, Nate said, "You didn't answer the question."

"Which question?"

"About what you felt when you were in that room at the business park." Callen was silent. "You're not going to tell me that you didn't have any feelings."

"I had feelings."

"Okay. And how would you describe your feelings?" Nate asked, knowing that this was an important breakthrough, Callen admitting he had an emotional response to what had happened to him, to them. Seconds ticked by before Callen replied, and Nate thought Callen's admission might have caused him to reconsider exploring his emotions, but it hadn't.

"I've never killed anyone unless it was the only option." Nate realized that Callen was grappling with understanding his emotions in a roundabout way, and so he waited for Callen to continue. "I almost killed Katya."

"When you were at the business park?"

"Later." Callen turned his hands over and looked at his palms. "I almost strangled her to death. She wasn't a threat to me. But I almost strangled her."

"But you didn't."

Callen turned and faced Nate and his eyes were troubled. "I've never been that close to killing someone in cold blood."

"But you didn't."

Callen studied his hands. "No, I didn't." He looked at Nate, questioning, "And I'm not sure why I didn't." As he sank back in his seat, Callen's body slumped. "I wanted her dead."

"I've wanted people dead, too."

"Did you almost strangle them to death?"

"No," Nate answered quickly because Callen's tone suggested self-accusation, and he wanted to tamp that down, "but you didn't kill her, and I think you didn't because that's not who you are." Nate continued, "Instead of condemning yourself for something you didn't do, Callen, maybe you should ask yourself why you came so close to killing her." Nate watched and waited, but Callen offered no response. Maybe Callen didn't know the reason, or, maybe, he didn't want to acknowledge the reason. Nate needed to get him there. "You've been in difficult situations before, Callen—tortured even—and yet, this is the first time you came within seconds of killing a person in cold blood." He paused before continuing, "So why this time, Callen? Why Katya? What was different?"

Callen was struggling with an answer. He took a break and finished his bottle of water and then asked, "What do you think, Nate?"

"Well," Nate replied as he stroked his chin absently, "I don't know everything about you, Callen, as you said, but I can tell you for a fact that almost killing Katya with your bare hands had nothing to do with what Anna had done to you earlier or with you being trapped in the shipping container."

"It didn't?"

"No. You've already said you understood why Anna did what she did, and understanding usually negates or reduces feelings of anger. I do know you well enough to know that once you found yourself in the shipping container, your first thought would be getting out and your second thought would be finding Anna." He leaned back and rested one index finger against his lips. "Neither of those thoughts would be likely to generate intense anger. You would kick into survival mode and the accompanying emotions: determination, resourcefulness, self-sacrifice, maybe even recklessness. But not anger."

"Then where did the anger come from?"

"I'm not sure, but I believe it came from something that happened at the business park." Nate looked at Callen, but Callen's expression revealed nothing, "but nothing that Anna did."

"Then what?"

"Only intense, extreme emotions elicit extreme responses." Nate paused, "You know Anna and know that she would never willingly hurt you. But something—or someone—caused that response in you." Silence. "It had to be Katya. What was it Katya did that made you want to kill her?"

Callen closed his eyes and his mouth flexed as he fought his memory. It took several minutes before he spoke, but Nate waited. Callen's voice was almost inaudible, wracked with guilt. "'Please don't kill her.' That was my only thought 'Please, don't kill her. Oh, god, please don't kill her. Don't kill her, please don't kill her.'" He stopped and there was only the sound of honking horns, passing cars, seagulls, and the voices of people calling after their children or companions. Callen opened his eyes and looked through Nate. "I couldn't let her see what I was thinking. It lasted hours, but I couldn't. If she'd known, she would have killed her. I know she would have. Katya was like that. So, I couldn't let her know. I thought I'd lose my mind, but as long as we entertained her, I thought she'd let Anna live. As long as she could make Anna hurt me, I thought she'd let Anna live. So I entertained her. Because she wanted to be entertained, and I needed Anna to live." Callen's voice began to catch in his throat and the words broke up as they came out, "I knew she could . . .she would kill Anna . . . shoot her . . . slit her throat . . . strangle her . . . just for fun, because everything she did . . . was because she could . . . she didn't care . . . I'd see and feel and hear Anna die . . . in front of me . . . unable to protect Anna . . . and she would think it was . . . fun . . . and then . . . she'd try to arouse me . . . like she did after . . . she strangled Anna into unconsciousness . . . she'd try to arouse me while the woman I loved . . . was dead in front of me." Callen stopped, staring ahead, and then his eyes focused on his hands. "I don't think," he said slowly and deliberately, "I knew till then how empty my life would be without Anna. And," he looked at Nate, "I only realized it then because I knew I could lose her in a minute. And Katya would take her away and then spit in my face." He stopped and took a deep breath. Neither man spoke for a few minutes, and when one of them did, it was Callen, "Maybe my anger came from that."

"That seems possible," Nate said with a nod, and then reminded Callen, "But, Anna didn't die."

"No, she didn't," Callen agreed and he looked at Nate. "But it wasn't because of anything I did, was it?" And then he turned his eyes away from him and was lost in thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nate saw Anna standing on the stairs. He didn't know how much she had heard, but he thought it was past time that they talked, really talked, about what had happened to both of them. He stood up. "I'll be back in a minute," he said and motioned to Anna to come over while he disappeared into a side room.

XXXXXXX

Beale finished downloading the information from the chips onto a flash drive for Hetty in less than an hour. He placed the chips back in the container and took those with him when he went downstairs to deliver the flash drive, but when he got there, Hetty was nowhere to be found. He hesitated to just leave them even though he knew no one would touch them. He felt as though he needed to physically place them in Hetty's hand, so he went on a "Hetty hunt." He found her when he looked through the door of the firing range. He waited until she had emptied her clip, and then slipped in.

She turned. "You have something for me, Mr. Beale?" Beale held out both the flash drive and the container with the two chips. "And you didn't access any of the information?"

"I did not," Beale assured her.

"Very good, Mr. Beale," Hetty said as she took the flash drive. "Take the chips back up with you, but do not let them out of your sight."

"I promise I won't, Hetty."

"Excellent," Hetty said with a nod and a slight smile, loaded a new clip, turned back to the firing range, and raised her pistol. Beale navigated a quick getaway before she fired and made his way back upstairs.

After emptying her clip, Hetty took her gun and the flash drive to the armory, and once she had cleaned her gun and put it away, she headed back to her desk with the flash drive to review the information Katya had been willing to die to protect.

XXXXXXX

Anna came and stood in front of Callen. He looked at her, grief and guilt written on his face.

"How much did you hear?"

"I was resting." She reached out her hand, and his eyes closed at the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek. "Callen." She breathed his name softly and held his face in her hands. She felt him take several deep breaths. Anna lowered herself, kneeling in front of his chair, her hands still cradling his face. "Callen," she repeated. He opened his eyes and looked at her, his eyes filled with despair and longing. "I am so sorry . . ." He interrupted her by putting a finger against her lips and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Callen leaned forward in his seat and brought his face closer to Anna's. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and released his tension in a single breath. He placed his hands over hers and met her gaze, "I should have protected you, Anna."

"You did. You protected me." She could see that Callen didn't believe her. "Katya didn't take me to Russia. Katya didn't kill me. Katya was stopped. I'm alive because you protected me, Grisha. You are my protector, and I am yours." She waited for Callen to say something, anything.

Callen put a hand under her chin and brought her face forward until his lips touched hers. He kissed her, gently at first, and then his passion for her overwhelmed him. He kissed her with the fierceness of a man who thought he might never kiss her again and continued kissing her as she stood up and moved onto him, straddling him, answering his passion with her own.