Chapter 36 – Just a Little Cranky

Now that Hetty and the others had taken their leave, Sam quietly moved the small straight-back chair, from the corner, to the narrow space between the bed and the window. He sat down and carefully studied his partner.

G was no longer shivering. His eyes were closed, but he was definitely not asleep. Sam guessed he was either drained from the powerful chills he had gone through earlier, or was mentally battling it out with the intense cold that was threatening to return.

A good while had passed when Callen opened his eyes, turned his head to his left and quirked an eyebrow at Sam. "I don't really need a baby sitter, ya know," he said, his voice sounding tired and course. He looked down at the bedsheets for a moment and then back over to Sam. "Seriously. You can go home and get some sleep… in a real bed."

Sam stretched the kinks out of his shoulders. "Yeah. I know," he said matter-of-factly. "But then who'd be here to wrap you up like a burrito the next time you get cold?"

Not having the energy to come up with a response, Callen simply shook his head lightly.

A few minutes later, G peered out the partially opened blinds. "What time is it?"

Sam looked at his watch. "Ten past nine."

Just then, a Nurses' Aide entered the room and deposited a cup of red gelatin, a plastic spoon, and several packages of crackers onto the bedside table. As she pushed the table up next to the bed, she explained, "I know it's late, but Miss Lang asked us to deliver this to you. She wants to make sure you have a snack since you only ate a few bites of your supper."

Callen practically rolled his eyes before looking away.

"Thanks," Sam responded, since his partner was paying no attention to the food now sitting beside him. Sam grunted as he hoisted himself up from the small chair.

"I don't want anything," G said stubbornly when Sam had come around to the small table and began opening the Jell-O.

"Well that's too bad. 'Cause you're eating this."

Ignoring his partner's pouting, Sam paused to think for a moment. He knew that G would have to move his arms from beneath the blankets, that he was tightly wrapped in, if he was going to be able to feed himself. On the other hand, with Callen in one of his stubborn moods, he wasn't going to be too accepting of being fed by someone else.

While Sam stood, contemplating how to approach this, a look of confusion came across Callen's features. He looked up at Sam. "What day is it?"

"Monday... Tomorrow's Tuesday. The next day's Wednesday…"

"Funny," Callen responded in his familiar, sarcastic tone.

"Now stop trying to change the subject." Sam proceeded to tear open the package that contained the plastic spoon.

Callen looked over toward the window. "When can I get out of here?"

"I don't know," Sam answered impatiently. "Maybe whenever you start eating like a grown man?"

Callen pressed his lips together and glared at the wall in front of him.

"You want me to feed it to you, or you wonna do it yourself?"

"Sam. I told you. I don't want it."

"And I told you, you have to eat it. Look, G. It's not even that much food."

Callen didn't move.

"Hetty would be more than happy to come up here and do this." Sam fished his phone from his pocket. "I can call her," he warned while holding up his phone.

Callen cut his eyes to the left and frowned at the window for a few seconds. "Fine," he conceded, his voice too weak to sound as irritated as he really was. "I'll do it." G began wiggling his body underneath the covers, unsuccessfully trying to exit the tightly tucked mountain of blankets. He finally stilled, let out a small breath, and looked up at Sam. "You gonna just stand there?"

One corner of Sam's mouth turned up into a smile. "They say you're not supposed to help a butterfly break out of its cocoon. It'll be too weak to fly."

Callen shot his friend an exasperated glare and then began trying to use his arms to fight his way out, grumbling between small punches. "Well I wasn't… really… planning on… doing any… flying… today."

Sam's smile disappeared. "Hold on, G!" He quickly returned his phone to his pocket. "Stop trashing around under there before you pull that IV out of your hand."

Callen waited patiently while his partner pulled the edges of covers from beneath him. When his arms were finally freed, his look of relief was quickly overridden with a grimace from the sudden chill. After taking a few breaths, mentally forcing most of the shivering to stop, he took the container and spoon from Sam and began slowly eating the Jell-O.

Watching G struggle with the execution of such a simple task - a broken wrist on one side and an IV on the other - Sam had to fight the urge to intervene. Having just rescued Callen from a stack of blankets, Sam thought it best to salvage at least a thread of his partner's dignity.

Callen was almost finished with the red gelatin when a sudden shudder caused him to spill the contents of the spoon down his face and drop the container into his lap. He fumbled with the Jell-O cup a few seconds, handed it to Sam, and then reached up and tried to wipe the sticky, red substance from his face.

Sam lightly chuckled when Callen crinkled his nose. "You need a wet towel there, G?" Without waiting for a reply, Sam went to the sink, ran some warm water, and then came back with a couple of wet paper towels.

With a shaky hand, Callen swiped his face with the towels and then clumsily scrubbed his face. "I need to shave."

Sam smiled. "It has been a while. You wait a couple more days and you'll reach Deeks' level of shagginess."

Callen, once again, ran a shaky hand over his face. "Do I have a razor here?"

"Seriously?"

Callen gave Sam a quick glance, folded his arms across his torso, and sat frowning at the foot of the bed.

Sam pressed his lips together and conceded, letting out a breath through his nose. "I'll let Hetty know you need a razor. Okay?"

"Will you ask her to bring…"

"Don't say clothes, G, 'cause it's not happening."

Callen glared at his partner. "I was going to say a coat."

Sam shook his head, fighting back a smile. "I don't think a coat will work that well up here… not with being in bed, that IV, and all the stuff going on with you. But I'll tell her you're asking for something warmer… and a razor. Anything else?"

Callen suddenly sucked in a quick breath and a pained expression took over his features. Clutching his side, he was just too exhausted to try to hide how much he was hurting.

All Sam could do was watch helplessly for a minute or so, until Callen began to relax. "Where are you hurting, G? Your ribs?" he asked with a sympathetic tone.

With his breathing still rather ragged, Callen looked up at his partner. "Sam… please… just take me… home," he pleaded.

Sam placed his palm on Callen's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Wish I could, G… I wish I could."

For the next couple of hours, Sam and G would exchange light conversation for a while, then Callen would drift off to a light sleep for a little while. It took some convincing (threats of phoning Hetty), but Callen drank some juice and ate the crackers that had been delivered to his room earlier. Occasionally, the nurse would come in and take care of whatever the patient needed or to record vital signs.

When Callen seemed to finally be asleep, Sam turned off the overhead light and sat down on the miniature couch. With his partner now resting, some of the tension of the day left his shoulders. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Around midnight, Sam opened his eyes, realizing that he had fallen asleep. The room was still and quiet. Sam rose to his feet and stretched his stiff back. He looked toward the bed and was surprised to see his partner's blue eyes shining in the moonlight that was streaming through the blinds.

When Sam approached Callen, he could see worry in Callen's eyes; the same dark look he had seen earlier in the day. Sam wondered if the Zamora case had brought back bad memories, or if maybe something else from Callen's past was haunting him. "Sorry, G," he said softly when he reached the bedside. "I must have fallen asleep. You Okay?"

Seemingly deep in thought, Callen continued staring straight ahead.

"Are you cold?"

"Little bit," he answered absently.

"What's on your mind?"

Still gazing into space, Callen replied softly, "Nothing."

Sam leaned in closer, resting his forearms on the bedrail. "Talk to me, G. What's going on?"

A few seconds later, Callen's brow furrowed. "The pictures… those young guys… I really hurt them?"

Sam could see the torment in his partner's eyes. He took a deep breath, reeling in his frustration before responding. "G. We've been over this… more than once. Remember?... They got checked out by the doc. They are alright."

After a pause, Callen looked up at Sam with red-rimmed eyes. "How many other people?"

"How many other people, what?"

"Have I hurt?"

Sam wasn't about mention his reaction to the car backfiring, when he kicked the male nurses' aide who was helping them prevent Callen from going over the bedrail… or tell him he had punched Deeks when they found him on the streets and were trying to bring him back to the office. And he knew Callen would never forgive himself if he ever found out he had kicked Kensi in the stomach. So, Sam answered the best way he could. "G. Listen to me. Everyone is okay. I promise… Just relax. And stop worrying."

Callen searched his friend's brown eyes, as if trying to detect any hint of deception. Seemingly halfway convinced Sam was telling the truth, his expression turned to anger. "Why didn't you stop me?"

Sam was taken back by the sudden change in mood. "I wasn't there, G."

Callen set his jaw and returned to starring at the wall in front of him. "Someone should have just shot me," he said, as if talking to himself. He closed his tired eyes as a tear escaped.

Sam refrained from the scolding he would have ordinarily given his partner for making such a statement. The change in mood was now painfully evident. This anger was directed inward; G Callen hated himself for what he had done. Sam, once again, felt helpless. With his friend in such a fragile state-of-mind, Sam could not come up with the words needed to convince his partner that he was not to blame for what he had done. So, he did the only thing he knew to do; the big SEAL reached through the rail, placed a comforting hand on G's shoulder, and stood wordlessly beside him until Callen drifted off to sleep.

When Sam was sure Callen was out, he made his way around to the other side of the bed. Just as he settled into the straight-back chair, he felt his phone buzz. It was Hetty.

How is he, Sam?

Not hurting right now. But he's just a little cranky.

And I expect that will only get worse - the more aware he is of his confinement and limitations.

And he's worrying again… about hurting those guys from radiology. He's really angry with himself.

I see. Did you tell him their injuries were not severe?

Yeah. But he doesn't seem too convinced.

I see. I'll take care of it. Did he eat his snack?

Under protest.

Is he cold?

Not as much.

That's good. But unfortunately, that cycle will start all over again in less than an hour when they bring his medication.

Great. He'll be thrilled.

Well, until then, you try to get some rest.

You too Hetty. Oh. He wants his razor. And some warmer clothes.

His razor is in the bag I put in his closet. I'll help with that in the morning. And I'll see what I can do about finding him some warmer clothes.

Thanks Hetty. Night.

Goodnight Mr. Hanna.