Author's Note: Cross-posted on AO3
Author's Note 2: Ok, so I'm excited and can't contain this story any longer. I invite you to join me for another adventure, spanning over 24 chapters and a good 65 k of words (making this the longest solo-story I've ever written). Buckle up for the ride.
Xxxxxxx
Manhunt
Chapter 1
The scene around him seemed surreal. He'd been to similar scenes multiple times during his career, but this time…
Callen rubbed a hand over his forehead, swiping his hand down over his eyes to hide the moisture that threatened to spill yet again.
Guilt weighed heavily. This was his fault.
He was the one who had sent his team into this inferno. He was the one who had given the order to go inside. They had trusted him to make the right decision and instead he had sent them to their deaths.
He watched the firefighters as they slowly, meticulously secured the building. The structural damage was extensive. Several areas had collapsed completely, concrete rubble piling up, support beams and struts broken and bent, poking through the rubble and stretching up into the sky like fingers reaching for something. The building groaned from time to time, shifting and settling. Smoke was still billowing up, a silent whisper of loss.
Even though he had thrown his weight around and threatened to go in there himself, no one had been allowed to enter the warehouse for hours. The fire, ignited by a series of explosions while his team had been inside, had burned bright and hot. It had taken the fire crews hours to get it under control. The heat was still flickering, wafting over to where he stood, making his shirt cling uncomfortably to his skin.
Chances of survival for anyone inside were pretty much down to zero he had been told by the Chief. He didn't want to believe, knew that his team had miraculously survived other death traps before, but this one…
The Chief had been blunt in stating they would be lucky if they could recover their bodies.
"With a fire this hot and intense and on top of the explosions beforehand…" the Chief had shaken his head, before he quietly went on, "prepare yourself for the possibility that there might be nothing left to recover."
As soon as they had been able to, firefighters had gone inside, carefully making progress while securing the structure to prevent other sections from collapsing as well. Still, they did what they could to start searching. They had worked their way to where the team's last known position had been, but there had been nothing. Everything had been razed to the ground in that section.
Callen stood still in his silent vigil, dazed and somehow detached from reality. Numbness was slowly settling in, blanketing the bright panic of the moment when things had gone wrong and the hot flashes of adrenaline that had sustained him for hours afterwards while he raced to the scene and tried to do everything he could to…
Leaning into the car in his back, needing something solid to remain upright when the ground had basically been torn out from under him, he sighed and lowered his head.
Useless
He hadn't felt and been this useless in ages.
He prided himself on his quick thinking and his ability to make mental leaps and adapt to any given situation, but right now, he was drawing blank.
There were so many things he would need to do, starting with getting their crime scene techs in there and making sense out of the evidence they would bring back and he would have to alert…
Oh God, he would also have to talk to Sam's kids and Kensi and Deeks' moms to tell them... to tell them…
Balling his hands into fists to hide the sudden shaking, Callen gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. He swallowed against the bile that climbed his throat, leaning even more firmly into the car in his back.
His head snapped up when he heard footsteps approaching. Straightening slowly, he took in the sight of several suits appearing on scene. Two people branched off while the other two continued walking towards him. The leader was tall, broad shouldered and an all-over muscled physique badly hidden beneath the suit jacket. The dark hair and moustache gave him an even sterner appearance. The man tailing half a step behind was younger, his posture more at ease. He had the physique of a runner, lithe and agile, his movements fluid and nimble. His red hair and blue eyes would make him stand out in a crowd and the freckles were badly covered by a five o'clock shadow.
Callen pushed away from the car and straightened when the two men obviously wanted to talk to him. He automatically shook the leader's hand when it was extended to him.
"Agent Callen," the man greeted, "I'm Agent Marc Grander, FBI. I'm the lead agent on this investigation. This is Agent Gabe, my second in command."
Before the man could go on any further, Callen held up a hand, "what do you mean: 'lead agent'? This is an NCIS investigation."
Agent Grander shook his head, "I know you have a vested interest in this-"
"Vested interest?" Callen parroted incredulously, trying to draw a breath that seemed to get stuck in his throat, "that's my people in there," he gestured towards the still smoldering remains of the warehouse.
The other man held up his hands, trying to placate him, "I'm sorry, that's not-" he sighed and shook his head, "my orders came from my Director who has been called into this by the SecNav as I understand it."
Callen blinked somewhat dumbly at him. The last few hours had taken their toll on him, and he somehow felt too slow and inadequate to understand what he was being told. "Why?" he asked simply.
Grander shrugged, "I don't know, Sir," he admitted.
Callen remained silent, trying to prompt his brain to start working properly again. He didn't want this investigation out of his hands. This was his team, his people, and it was their case. They would clean this up themselves.
"Those were my people in there," he repeated quietly, hating how he slipped into a past tense, but knowing he would have to face reality. They had lost contact with the team hours ago when the explosions had devastated the warehouse shortly before the fire had followed. That on top of the firefighters finding nothing where the team had last been… however crafty and skilled they were, if the team had survived, they would have made contact by now.
Callen shook his head and made eye contact with the other man, "this is our case and…"
"I know that, and I'm not your enemy, but I have received orders to take over," Grander interrupted gently, his expression sympathetic. His posture remained open and at ease, no sign of confrontation in his stance or that of his second in command.
"Do you have any idea how it feels to have lost your entire team?" Callen asked, gesturing in frustration and despair towards the warehouse where firefighters were still trying to put out the last of the fires. He half turned away from the scene that was burned into his memory and dragged a hand through his short hair, trying to hide the shakiness.
Grander ducked his head before raising his eyes to Callen's once more, "yes, I do," he answered quietly, making Callen pause.
He watched the man, taking in his expression and searching his eyes. There was pain in there, old and long since buried, but still visible and potent. The man had just uttered the truth.
"Look, I know exactly how you feel," Grander continued calmly, "and that you would want to investigate this on your own, but calls have been made and the FBI has been asked to take the lead. What I can offer you is to keep you in the loop and share as much with you as I can," Grander offered.
It was better than nothing, but it wasn't enough.
"I'll make some calls," Callen gave back neutrally and stepped away from the man, taking out his cell phone to try and get those orders revoked.
At least this was something he could do to keep from feeling completely useless.
Xxxxxxx
