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In Time of Trial
Chapter 3
He remained at Luc's side for most of the next few days unless Sam dragged him out or he was thrown out by the doctors or the physical therapists that were insisting to start working with Luc as quickly as possible.
Luc seemed to swing back and forth between putting up a strong front and appearing completely overwhelmed with what was happening… not that Callen could blame him. This wasn't just some small injury. It wasn't an injury that passed for 'normal' even in their lines of work. This was something life changing, and it would take time to come to terms with that.
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It took three more days before Luc was taken off the ventilator, three more days until the doctors decided his lung had healed enough for him to breathe on his own.
By then Luc had been downgraded from 'critical'. He was still in ICU, but the doctors were hopeful he could be moved to a normal room shortly.
The fact that Luc was off the ventilator had signified an important step to Callen, more than any of the doctors' talking points. Having Luc able to breathe for himself and also able to verbally react, had done a lot to calm him down.
Callen glanced up when Sam quietly slipped into the room.
He watched Sam's eyes flicker over the sleeping man before he stepped close to Callen. "I have to go back to LA. The Nunes' operation is heating up and Hetty needs me over there," he murmured quietly.
Callen glanced back at Luc, torn between wanting to go with Sam to do his job and back his partner up and being unable to leave his lover.
Sam's hand on his shoulder put an end to the quiet contemplation. "Your place is here, partner," he said firmly, "Hetty's orders."
Callen gave a relieved nod, even though it still felt wrong not to be there to back Sam up. The tightening of Sam's fingers on his shoulders let him know his partner was very much aware of his worries.
"Keep an eye on him, take care of yourself and check in daily," Sam told him firmly, more an order than anything else.
A smile stole over his features when his mother hen of a partner made sure he knew he was worried about him. "We'll be fine, Sam," he told the other man evenly. On the one hand he didn't want his partner to leave, had become somewhat dependent on his solid strength, but on the other hand he knew that Hetty had given him a precious gift in allowing Sam to stay with him for as long as he had.
With another small squeeze of his fingers, Sam stepped back and left the room as quietly as he had entered it minutes before.
Callen watched him go before he refocused his attention on his lover, finding him still asleep.
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Callen glanced up when he saw Luc stir on the bed. He had been deep in his head, allowing his thoughts free reign without staying on one topic for too long.
Before long, Luc's eyes slid over to him, and Callen reached out to brush his fingers over the other man's arm. A small smile was his reward.
Stretching carefully, Luc fumbled for the controls of the bed and raised the head up slightly, shifting his body carefully to be in a more upright position. His eyes moved around the room before returning to Callen. "Where's Sam?" he asked, curiosity coloring his voice. Even though Sam wasn't here all the time, Callen knew that Luc had come to expect the presence of a fellow SEAL - even if he was there first and foremost as backup for Callen.
Callen leaned back, settling himself deeper into the uncomfortable chair. "On his way back to LA. An operation is sliding in place and Hetty needed him."
Luc nodded slowly, pursing his lips as he mulled that over before once more raising his eyes to Callen's. "You should have gone with him," he stated slowly.
Even though he had wondered the same earlier, Callen was content in the decision to stay. He could have defied Hetty's orders - it wouldn't have been the first time - and returned with Sam, but her order had just reinforced that strong feeling inside of him that he couldn't leave now. He would be able to function in the field - compartmentalizing was one of his core strengths after all - but he couldn't leave his lover here on his own. "Trying to get rid of me?" he asked with a small grin before Callen shook his head. "For the moment, my place is here, soldier."
There was a moment when their eyes connected, and Callen saw unveiled and unguarded surprise and gratitude before Luc's features darkened and he turned his head away. "Don't call me that," he murmured.
Callen frowned, silence falling for a moment as he rewound his previous statement in his head. "What? 'Soldier'?" he asked, somewhat confused because it had been a familiar address. He had often called his lover that way. It had originally been used in a joking manner but somehow that 'nickname' had caught.
Luc nodded, his fingers playing with a loose thread of the blanket.
Callen sat forward, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs, tilting his head slightly while watching Luc carefully. "Why not?" he asked slowly, curious and somewhat guarded.
Luc remained silent, his eyes firmly on the thread he was rolling around between his thumb and forefinger.
"Luc?" Callen prompted, reaching out and stilling Luc's fingers.
Luc's head came up and there was despair in his eyes before they shuttered and suddenly there was only anger remaining in them. "Because I'm not a soldier anymore," he yelled, snatching his hands away from Callen's.
Maybe, if Callen hadn't seen the utter despair, he might have countered the verbal attack. Then again, he was usually slow to anger - similar to Luc actually. Both of them had a rather long fuse. While Luc's anger burned hot and blinding when his fuse finally blew, Callen's was more of a calculating kind of anger which had made their few fights interesting.
Right now, Callen had no desire to fight and the despair in Luc's eyes, however brief, told him that the verbal attack was a deflection tactic. He sighed softly and shook his head. "You don't cease to be a soldier because you're wounded, Luc," he told him calmly.
Luc's hands balled into fists, and he looked away.
Callen felt himself starting to reach for the other man again but reigned himself in, halting the motion, somewhat sure he would be rebuffed. "You'll always be a soldier, a SEAL," he reiterated, "that won't change," he added after a pause.
Luc turned his head away, his eyes squeezed shut. He shifted incrementally, basically just a shift of his weight to the side, a raise of his shoulder, but for some reason it felt like he was turning over and leaving Callen to stare at his back, a gulf ripping open between them. "I'm tired," Luc murmured.
Callen's eyes lingered on Luc, and he exhaled quietly. He knew he wouldn't make any more headway in talking some sense into his partner. Instead, he once more sat back and watched over the other man.
What Luc had said, his attempt to distance himself from Callen's address, from being called a 'soldier', worried him though.
It hinted at another deep psychological effect that Callen hadn't contemplated before. It had been painfully and brutally obvious that this was a life-altering injury, but Luc distancing himself from being a soldier suddenly made him realize that Luc hadn't 'only' lost his leg or even his job. He had lost part of his identity.
Being a SEAL was not just a job to Luc, just as much as being an agent was more than a job to Callen. It was what made them who they were, it defined them and expressed who they were.
There was one difference though: while Callen hadn't set out to be a spy or an agent, he knew that Luc came from a family with a long line of career soldiers and his lover had once confided in him that he had always wanted to follow this legacy and enter the military. What was more, he had wanted to become a Navy SEAL since he had been very young.
Luc had spent his life training, had focused on his dream and had eventually reached his goal. It took dedication and determination.
Where Callen's life had shaped him and molded him to fit into his eventual profession, Luc had shaped his life to make himself fit into his chosen profession.
Losing his leg, and with it his place in the group of elite soldiers he had fought so hard to get into, therefore went deeper than a permanent disability and the loss of his profession. Callen sighed and reached up to rub a hand across his forehead and over his eyes.
He realized they would be facing another battle in the months to come.
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The days after Sam had left were taxing in a different way to before. While before, Callen had fought with the stress of worrying if Luc would make it out on the other side, since waking up and physically starting to recover very quickly, handling Luc's psychological state became the more taxing endeavor.
He discovered a different side of Luc; one he hadn't seen before. Usually, his lover was well balanced and easy-going. This new reality he found himself in was bringing out another side of him though. He was unbalanced, alternately snappish or withdrawn.
Callen didn't - couldn't - blame him. He doubted he would handle this any better if their roles were reversed, but it was still difficult to deal with.
Four days after Sam left, preparations were made for Luc to return to the US. They had discussed Luc's return between themselves and with his doctors. Luc had been stationed in Coronado, but most of his social net was with his SEAL team which was still deployed in the Middle East. The families of the other team members living around Coronado counted social contacts as well as, but his team was still out of reach.
On the other hand, Luc could likewise be brought to LA to recuperate there. His social net there consisted mostly of Callen. He had formed some bonds with Sam and also the rest of their team, but Callen wasn't sure if that would be enough. Then again, he wasn't sure if the families of Luc's teammates would be enough either.
They had discussed things, but Callen wouldn't push his lover to anything.
Selfishly, Callen hoped that Luc would come back to LA where Callen could frequently check up on him, but both Sam and Hetty had warned him that it would have to be Luc's decision, so Callen held back.
Xxxxxxx
Callen heard the near soundless footsteps approaching, but he didn't react to them. His eyes continued moving over the report he had picked up. He usually hated paperwork, knew it was part of the job, a necessary evil that he barely tolerated, but right now, he relished the mundane work, the way he had to force his mind onto the words and away from everything else. In a way, it offered a measure of relief to escape the present situation.
They were both patient, but in the end, Hetty could still out-stubborn him. So, after several minutes of silence, of feeling Hetty's gaze on him, Callen sighed and glanced up at her.
Hetty's eyes wandered over his features but if she approved or disapproved, he couldn't tell. Her masks were as impenetrable as always.
Callen waited, but when she didn't say anything, he gave a small shake of his head before he glanced back down again.
"How is your partner doing?" Hetty asked quietly.
"I haven't seen Sam yet," Callen gave back without glancing up from the words of the report, intentionally misreading her question.
He could feel the disapproval this time, not having to look up to see it on her face.
There were several more moments of silence before, "join me for tea, Mr. Callen."
He tightened his jaw, frustrated and annoyed and yet knowing that disregarding the demand - for it was a demand and not a suggestion - wouldn't earn him any favors. Releasing his frustration with a long-suffering sigh, he threw his pen down and pushed away from the desk to follow Hetty over to her open office space.
Callen sat down while he waited for Hetty to prepare the tea.
"So, Mr. Callen. How is your partner?" Hetty asked when she carried the tray over to her desk.
He shrugged, reaching for the cup she poured. "Told you I haven't seen him yet."
He could see that she was unimpressed even before she uttered the reprimand, "playing dumb doesn't suit you, Mr. Callen."
He took a sip, wondering if he should continue this charade and pick up the bone she had thrown him, reminding her of incidents where he had played dumb in one or another undercover role. In the end, he decided against it for two reasons.
One: he wouldn't like the consequences.
Two: maybe he could use her input.
If he wanted her to bug out, he would tell her to do so and he knew she would bow out - under protest maybe, but she would (mostly) heed his wishes. Callen put the cup onto her desk and leaned back in the chair, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "He got settled in well at the rehab facility late last night. I'll check in with him in an hour or two."
He had been asked to leave for the night and give his partner time to get accustomed to his new surroundings on his own. Callen had wanted to argue, but in a way, it had been a blessing. He had spent every moment with Luc in hospital in Germany and during the flight, but back in LA he felt the desire to have some distance, some space for himself. Especially since things between them were stilted and strained.
The last two weeks had taxed him physically and emotionally and he had acknowledged - to himself at least - that he needed time to process things. He had spent the night driving, checking up on his team's whereabouts, running on the beach before eventually he had drifted to what had always been a sanctuary and home base for him: OSP. Even though he was still officially on leave, he had buried himself in paperwork, waiting for the words to blur in front of his eyes and allow him to catch a few minutes of sleep… something that hadn't happened yet.
Hetty glanced at her watch. "I doubt they'll be receptive of you turning up for a few more hours," she said pointedly.
Callen gave her a small smile, "I'll be charming."
She returned his smile, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm sure." The smile dimmed somewhat. "How are you doing, Mr. Callen?"
Callen met her gaze and - after a moment of internal debate - lowered his defenses. He let her see the pain, the exhaustion and the insecurity he felt. "I'm hanging on," he admitted quietly, glad for the silence of the mansion around them, knowing he wouldn't have opened up like this if they were surrounded by other people.
Hetty gave him a sympathetic nod, "sometimes, that's all you can do," she said softly.
He picked the cup of tea back up and cradled it against his chest, "he's swinging back and forth between what seems to be acceptance, disbelief, despondency and aggression," he elaborated, "I'm not sure how to help. Hell, I'm not even sure that I can help."
Hetty's eyes remained firmly on him and searched his features. "The philosopher Kahlil Gibran once wrote: 'Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars'," Hetty recited gently and then went on, "you, Mr. Callen, can attest to that; just as you can attest to being able to overcome suffering. Mr. Taggert is a strong man who is suffering right now, but he has the capacity to overcome that suffering. It requires time and effort - both from you and from him - but it is possible."
Callen sighed softly, in one way despondent and on the other hand feeling an influx of strength and hope at her words. Hetty was a good judge of character and strengths. She had also seen a lot in her lifetime - many things no one would ever know about - and to hear her reassurance did give him a boost.
His gaze got lost somewhere in the middle distance while he let her words sink in and fill him up. Silence fell around them and neither tried to break it. He was glad for the silence, glad that Hetty didn't try to say anything else, instead merely glad for her presence as they slowly sipped their tea.
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Luc's physical state improved in leaps and bounds. Even though he had been wounded badly, his overall fitness helped him in quickly regaining ground.
Callen watched as the physical therapist put Luc through another set of stretching exercises. He watched the pain flitter over his partner's face, saw the sweat beading on his brow as well as the determined expression.
Usually, he wasn't present during Luc's PT - his lover was often withdrawn or sometimes even hostile during and after those sessions.
For today, Luc had asked him to be around though. Callen wasn't sure if it was his attempt to mend some of the bridges between them or if it was for emotional support. The doctors were happy with how his wound had healed in the three short weeks since he had lost his leg and therefore, today the prosthestist would start the process of fitting Luc for a prosthesis. It would be a preparatory one as the residual limb would have to stabilize in size over the next few months.
Callen released an inaudible sigh. He had researched and read up about the process for days now, spending more time on what to do, what milestones to achieve and what to look out for than he had ever thought possible. His brain was overflowing with information he hadn't ever thought he would need.
The physiotherapist let go of Luc's leg and pattered his shoulder. "Enough for today, Luc," he said with a small smirk, "I'll come and torture you some more tomorrow morning."
Luc rolled his eyes and let himself fall back onto the bench. "I hate you so much," he muttered, making Callen exchange an amused grin with the physiotherapist over his lover's head.
"Heartbroken here, Taggert," the physiotherapist laughed, his hand over his heart and a fake wounded expression on his face.
Callen watched with a small smile as the comment sparked some snippy banter between Luc and the other man. He was glad for it, even though he hated that he felt excluded from it, worried to step in and set Luc off once more.
Everything between them was stilted and he sometimes felt like he was taking a walk in a minefield - blindfolded, hobbled and with his hands tied behind his back. Small things could set Luc off and Callen did his best to navigate safely - both for his own sake and for Luc's. He often didn't manage though, had stumbled upon one or another set of bombs he hadn't foreseen.
Luc's features tightened and his eyes flittered away into a corner of the room when his physiotherapist helped him transfer into a wheelchair. His lover hated it, Callen knew. He suspected that it signaled the pain of injury as much as the loss of his independence. He didn't know for sure though because Luc refused to talk about it.
"Alright, get out of here. I know you have an appointment in ten," the physiotherapist said and then waved Callen over.
Callen stepped up next to Luc, giving the other a crocked smile, "ready?" he asked, returning Luc's nod only moments later. He refrained from reaching out to push the chair, having made that mistake previously and having the brunt of Luc's anger unleashed on him. So instead, he walked next to his lover as they left the gym and navigated through the corridors of the rehab facility. There was silence between them, but for once, it didn't feel strained.
Stepping into the elevator, Callen watched his lover closely as he maneuvered the wheelchair around. "You good?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice even.
Luc glanced up briefly and there was fire in his eyes. Callen braced for the next explosion but was pleasantly surprised when instead, Luc drew a measured breath and closed his eyes before nodding, "yeah, I'm alright."
Callen continued watching and when Luc glanced up once more, he gave his lover a gentle smile. Being alone in the elevator, he reached out and cradled Luc's cheek. He still wasn't much for displays of affection in a public space, but he needed this right now. Luc's eyes fell closed and he leaned into the hand, making Callen relax further. His hand slid back into Luc's hair as he tilted the other man's head up while he leaned down. Their lips met and Callen greedily deepened the kiss when Luc didn't object. It was a hard and short kiss but before they both eased back, their lips lingering together for several more moments.
Callen breathed in deeply, a smile once more flittering over his features, "mnnn, all sweaty and delicious," he murmured somewhat lewdly, startling a laugh out of the other man as Luc pushed him back. The carefree expression on Luc's features took any sting out of the action.
Callen leaned back down, his eyes seeking and holding Luc's. "I love you, alright?" he murmured quietly. Neither of them said those words often, but with all the current upheaval, Callen sometimes felt himself scrabbling to hold on to that connection when Luc tried to shut him out.
There was a somewhat regretful expression that crossed Luc's features before he nodded, "I know," he said quietly, reaching for Callen's hand, "I love you, too."
Their fingers tangled for several moments before they had to let go when the elevator arrived on their floor.
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