Chapter 29: Bit by Bit
Deeks, Sam and Kensi stood motionless outside G's hospital room, gazing down the hall as their tiny boss disappeared behind the huge elevator doors.
Kensi was the first to break the silence. "Come on, guys." She reached up and rested the palm of her hand on Sam's shoulder. "You heard Hetty. Callen's starting to think more clearly. And he's fighting back. That's a good thing. Right?"
Sam's focus shifted from the elevator to Kensi's concerned brown eyes. After a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxed and he nodded in agreement.
A couple of minutes later, the sound of water running in Callen's room could be heard through the wall. When it shut off, Nurse Anna stepped out into the hall. Her patient's partially eaten supper tray was in one hand, and the napkin containing the remaining missed doses of medicine was in the other.
"Well?" Deeks asked the nurse with his eyebrows lifted.
"He took them. Miss Lange was right. No problem," she answered and then headed to the nurses' station.
Sam led the way back into the room. He eyed his partner for a moment.
Callen was still lying on his back but his head was turned away from the door. He seemed to be trying his best to look disinterested. But Sam immediately noticed G was rubbing his left thumb and index finger together; he was either trying to figure something out, or was attempting to control his anxiety. Sam was fairly sure it was the latter.
When Sam reached the side of the bed, Callen turned his head to face him. His brow tensed, and his disinterested expression was quickly replaced with that of fear.
"Listen to me, G," Sam said softly. "This medicine is different. You're gonna be just fine."
Callen's eyes watered a bit. "You don't know that, Sam. What if I…"
"I'll be right here. Nothing's gonna happen. I promise."
Callen pressed his lips together and let out a small breath. After blinking slowly once, he turned his head back toward the window, resuming his apathetic expression and the rubbing together of his fingertip and thumb.
Sam looked behind him and saw matching concerned looks on the faces of the junior team members. They also saw right through the wall G had put up. Callen, who was known for having major trust issues, seemed to be finding it difficult to even trust himself at the moment.
Sam's phone buzzed. He fished the device from the front pocket of his jeans and answered. "Hey Eric. What's up?... Yeah?... Any background info?... Do we know how many?... Sure... They're here with me now. I'll let them know… Got it… Thanks, Eric." Sam ended the call.
Kensi inquisitively tilted her head to the side. "Eric got called into Ops on a Sunday night? This can't be good."
"We may have a lead in the Zamora case."
Deeks' blonde eyebrows knitted together. "Already? Kenzalina and I just set up the surveillance at his hotel yesterday."
"He's moving fast," Kensi noted. "Maybe he'll trip up. What do they have, Sam?"
Before answering, Sam glanced at his partner who was now looking up at him, listening attentively. "No movement yet, Kensi. But Zamora's made four calls, all to a burn phone. They've pinpointed the location to an apartment on Andrews Drive. Hetty wants..."
"Antonio Zamora?" Callen's soft, raspy voice interrupted.
"Yeah, G."
Callen's eyes narrowed. "He's in the States?"
Sam pressed his lips together and nodded once. "Here in LA."
G looked down at the foot of the bed and tiredly blinked a couple of times, seemingly processing what he had just heard.
"Eric says Hetty wants us to gain access the apartment," Sam continued. "Gather as much information as possible; who they are, how many, look for anything that would indicate what they're up to. She needs one of you on this with me in the morning."
"I'll go," Deeks cheerfully volunteered, earning him a 'really?' look from Kensi. "What?... This case screams 'Detective Marty Deeks and his mad undercover skills.'"
"Right," Kensi said with a large dose of skepticism. She eyed Marty who was giving her eager, puppy-dog eyes. "Fine. I'll take hospital duty. It's my turn anyway. What time do I need to be back up here in the morning to relieve you, Sam?"
"I really need to get in a run in before the Op..."
"So like around 6:00?"
"That'll work."
Kensi glanced over at the bed and then signaled with her eyes for Sam to take a look.
Sam briefly studied Callen, who was still staring toward the foot of the bed, but now with a troubled expression.
Kensi lightly punched Deeks on the upper arm. "Come on, partner. Let's get you home so you can get some sleep. Gotta keep those mad, undercover skills sharp so you'll make a believable janitor... No wait... I know," she said excitedly. "A homeless man."
Sam frowned in disgust. "Absolutely not. I keep telling you, you're not getting that smelly coat anywhere near my car."
Deeks grinned devilishly.
"I mean it!" Sam warned as the pair left the room.
Sam turned his attention to his partner.
But before he had the chance ask G what was bothering him, Callen shook his head negatively. "I should be there," he thought aloud.
"Be where, G?" Sam stepped closer to the bed.
"In the field. With the team. Zamora's bad news."
"We got this covered, G. You're exactly where you need to be right now. You've got to heal up first."
Callen glared at Sam. "How long's that gonna take?" he asked with a hint of irritation.
"Not sure. Two, three weeks?" Sam half-lied, knowing that the truth would likely only further discourage his friend.
Callen swiped his tongue across his busted bottom lip. His brow tensed. His eyes worriedly stared straight ahead. He reached up and ran his fingertips across the small bandage on his forehead. "Three weeks? What's wrong with me?"
"Besides that gash on your head that you need to stop messing with?" Sam loosely wrapped his long fingers around G's forearm and guided his hand back down to the bed. "Let's see. Some broken ribs. Fractured right wrist. A fractured pelvis and a head injury." Sam chose not to include the scrapes on Callen's forearms that occurred when he had escaped from the OSP and repeatedly fell on the wet pavement, or the numerous bruises on his arms and torso, many of which were put there by those who were attempting to take care of him.
"Three weeks." Callen whispered. "That's too long," he said just a little louder.
Sam smiled at his partner, who was still focused on the long recovery period, apparently unfazed by the extensive list of injuries. "It's only been five days since you got hurt, G. You've got to give it some time."
Callen shook his head 'no.' "Uh uh. I'm not doing this," he said, a tone of panic rising in his voice. He looked up at Sam. "You've gotta get me out of here."
"Now just how am I supposed to do that? You can't even walk."
Callen shot Sam a look out of the corner of his eye. "You're a highly trained undercover Federal Agent. You'll think of something. Just get me out of this place."
There was a light knock on the door, and Anna entered the room carrying a couple of containers of apple juice. "How's it going?"
Sam motioned toward the bed with a tilt of his head. "My partner here is planning his escape."
Anna smiled at her patient. "Are we going to need to station a guard outside the door?"
Callen timidly glanced up at the young nurse.
Anna placed the juice containers on the portable table. "Well, it's been my experience that 'cabin fever' is a sign the patient is making progress. It's the ones who don't want to leave that I worry about."
Sam huffed. "You don't have to worry about this one."
Callen took in a quick breath as pain flashed in his eyes for a couple of seconds.
Anna waited until he had relaxed and then came around to the other side of the bed. She examined the IV that was inserted into the back of Callen's left hand and then her gaze traveled up to the bag of solution that was hanging from the top of the IV machine.
Callen's eyes tightened again. He dug his elbows into the mattress and shifted some of his weight over to his left hip.
The nurse paused until he had settled into a more comfortable position and then asked, "Can you rate your pain, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst?"
Now taking in shallow breaths, he looked up at the nurse with one eyebrow lifted. "Is there a number for… feeling like you got run over… by a city bus?"
Anna smiled. "I don't know exactly where that would fit in. Maybe you can help us create a Pain Scale designed specifically for your line of work," she said jokingly.
Sam chuckled while opening one of the juice containers Anna had delivered. "Believe me, you don't want him coming up with a Pain Scale. It'd be like, 'feels like I was shoved down a flight of stairs, or jumped out of a moving car, or got shot full of bullets again.'"
Callen blinked slowly. A weak half-smile appeared on his face. "Don't f'get seatbelt burns… and whiplash… from riding shotgun… with my partner."
"Here." Sam said gruffly, shoving the juice container in front of Callen's face. "Just drink your apple juice."
Forcing back a smile, Anna rounded the foot of the bed and walked toward the door. "I'll be back in just a little while to hang a new IV bag. Call if you need anything before then."
When the nurse was gone, Callen took the juice from Sam's hand and consumed it in several small sips. After handing the empty container to Sam, his expression became more somber, and he looked toward the window. "What day is this?" He asked softly.
"Sunday."
Callen squinted at the partially closed blinds. "Night time?"
"Yes. Almost nine o'clock."
Callen looked up at his friend. "Sorry. Have I asked you this before?"
"Yeah. But it's okay. We'll go over things as many times as it takes."
G's tired eyes now searched the wall in front of him, just past the foot of the bed. "How long have I been here?"
"Let's see. You got hurt Tuesday morning. We brought you to the hospital on Wednesday afternoon. So you've been here four days."
"We were on a case… Me, you… Deeks, Kensi. We were somewhere… outside?"
"The abandoned McFerrin Plant."
"Someone started shooting at us."
"It was a single shot. And it was aimed at you."
G lifted his eyes to meet Sam's for a second, and then he resumed staring at the space in front of him.
"You remember anything after that?"
Callen shook his head 'no.' "I heard a shot. It's all just bits and pieces after that. None of them fit together… I'll be right at the edge of an image, a memory…" Callen's tone was that of defeat. "But when I reach for it, it vanishes in my hand… Just like the memories of my…" Callen's voice trailed off.
Sam looked down at his shoes, taken back by G's honesty.
"Vance was there…" Callen recalled. "Hetty. Her hands were so cold."
"You had a high fever, G."
Apparently pulling up another memory, Callen suddenly looked puzzled. "I went to my house." After a moment, he looked up at Sam with wide eyes. "My box."
"The tin box that sits on your mantle?"
Callen nodded twice.
"Hetty has it. It's in her desk drawer."
A look of relief washed over Callen. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head deeper into the pillow. Within half a minute, he had fallen into a light sleep.
Sam walked over and sat down on the vinyl couch. He leaned his head back and let out a long breath. His partner's memory was far from being back to normal. But, for now, he was thankful for the bits and pieces.
