THE HERMIT…Write about someone who has isolated himself in search of some truth.

This was for him to do and him alone. No one else would be sucked in. It was his path to follow. No one else. He didn't need a team for this anyway. Especially since he didn't really know what he was looking for. It was stupid anyway, right?

G Callen looked across the seemingly abandoned loading area and fingered the phone in his pocket. He had already taken out the battery a few miles back, in the middle of a busy shopping area. He didn't want to be found easily. Kept his head down and everything. Ha. Let Eric facial recognise that.

Should he dump it? Or was that overkill? He took it out and looked critically at it. He wouldn't put it past Hetty to bug it somehow, though it would be difficult. It was easier with the chunkier phones of a few years ago. She would be mad if he "lost" this one. It would be the third one in almost as many months. It wasn't his problem that it either got broken in a scuffle or would be kidnappers knew that it was trackable and "relinquished" it from his person. He shook his head sharply tearing his thoughts. It would have to go.

It crushed surprisingly easily under his heel. Definitely more flimsy hardware these days. He resisted the urge to grind it into the ground. That really was unnecessary.

He glanced around him suspiciously, he already knew there were several defunct cameras around (and one active one at the gates but that was so easily avoided that it didn't count) but he wasn't entirely convinced that the loading bay was empty. Too many bad situations to recall in places like this. He wasn't exactly in the mood to be jumped on.

What mood was he even in? He wanted answers, that much he knew. But how to get them? He didn't know what questions he should be asking. Callen kicked at a rock in frustration and growled. He was thinking in circles again. He rubbed a hand over his face.

Let's start from the beginning. What did he already know? His name. Sort of. Did last names count? He was an orphan. Maybe. He'd always assumed so but then his sister had turned up. A sister that he'd forgotten. Who even did that? Him apparently.

He growled. This was getting him nowhere. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the brick wall, uncaring that it was chipped and rough. He needed something to ground him.

Mentally, he flipped through the pictures of him that he had found on that wall. He had gone over them so many times that he could recall them nearly perfectly. Him at all ages. None he remembered being taken. Did the photographer know him? Was he a relative? A friend? More questions and no answers.

A growl came from his throat and his stomach. He hadn't eaten since yesterday and there were no food trucks nearby. He couldn't go in somewhere. One, he had no cash and as soon as he used his card he'd be found and two, there were always cameras. Honestly, LA was getting so paranoid.

He kicked the wall to vent his frustration. It didn't help. God, he was pathetic. He was normally better at this. Better at dealing with not knowing. It was just, he kept getting these glimpses of who he was. He had to know. Didn't he deserve that? Of course, he did. Everyone deserved to know who they were. Nate had even gone over it with him in their many, many sessions. Callen had never voiced that particular though but Nate was intuitive. He really did know his stuff after all, for all the teasing. Callen slung at him. He had been told that his urges had been perfectly natural bit he couldn't let them become self-destructive.

Callen chuckled hollowly. Self-destruction was what he was best at after all. He wondered what Nate would think of this? The disappearing. The isolation. The doggedness. Probably nothing positive.

Maybe Arkady could help him. He probably knew a guy that knew who was behind that damned camera. Maybe they knew something about him? He groaned at the thought of dealing with Arkady. The man was good but so frustrating. And nosy. But helpful and had lots of connections.

This would be so much easier if he had a pocket Eric to look up these sorts of things. The Tech Operator could probably find the guy, his last five addresses and his favourite takeaway even with the minimal information Callen had.

He heard a noise. He tensed and placed his hand on his gun. It was coming from up ahead. Narrowing his eyes, Callen scuttled behind a storage container hopefully staying out of sight. Another noise, footsteps perhaps? He cocked his head. Multiple ones. Also voices. Angry sounding. He edged closer to them, teary for anything.

They were just around here-

He swung round; gun raised only to come to a stop. He glared.

In front of him stood his partner, all strength and intimidation even when leaning casually against the wall. His other two teammates were a few feet behind, wanting to be there but not wanting to get between the two of them. They had their heads bowed, bickering as usual. Callen forcibly returned his gun to his holster.

He couldn't help it, he smiled.

"I told you I'd be in contact," Callen said in greeting.

Well, he had. In his own way. He supposed the cheeky 'See you soon' note he'd left on Sam's desk was a bit much. He had let them know he was safe. Sort of. Had allowed just enough cameras to catch his face. Nowhere near where he wanted to go, of course.

"You really think we were going to let you go into this alone?" Sam answered simply.

"You're not supposed to be involved," Callen said stubbornly.

"You're involved so we're involved. That's what team means."