Originally posted on AO3
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Need to Protect
Chapter 1
Hetty glanced up when her young intelligence analyst skidded to a stop in front of her desk. She didn't even have time to properly acknowledge the young woman before Nell spoke. The words were enough to forgive her for her lapse in manners /br /
"Callen is in trouble."
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Approaching the jet, he listened to the men talking around him in Russian. He mostly didn't talk, instead let the conversation go on without his input. He wasn't known for being talkative.
Callen glanced at the private jet. This trip had been planned for a while and even though he didn't exactly like it, he knew it was part of his cover. Business would be done in Mother Russia and not on American soil.
The upcoming meeting was a big one, the heads of the four biggest families coming together. Aside of specific deals concerning weapons, money and drugs, there would be negotiations about division of territory as well as implementing more routes into the American government. Russia wasn't above using the less legal business to try and gain more knowledge and leverage in other areas.
Though admittedly, with their current President, they didn't exactly need the illegal routes. Callen scowled to himself and returned his attention to the upcoming meeting.
Things had the potential to get ugly, though he wasn't too worried. He was close enough to the action to gain valuable Intel, but far enough away so he wouldn't have to watch his back any more than he did here.
He had been undercover for nearly eight months now, away from his team and in a deep cover operation that had been set up by the Agency. It had been a sore spot, since he had wanted to server all ties to the CIA when he left his previous employer, but he had found over the years that no one ever really left the Agency.
It had neither been his choice to partake in this op, nor had it been Hetty's. Neither of them had had the power to stop it either.
While the Agency had planned this well, they had lost their original operative to a freak accident only shortly before he was supposed to go undercover. Being pressed for time, they had demanded Callen step in and take over.
Considering what stood at stake, he had been inclined to agree even though this operation meant returning under the CIA's purview and being cut off from his own support system.
He had to admit though, that the role he'd been pushed into had been practically tailored to him and it had been easy to immerse himself in it.
While he didn't exactly want to work for the Agency again, it had been easy to slip back into old habits. Still, having less back-up than he was used to had grated on his nerves for the first few weeks. He had often found himself considering how to brief his team, who's talents to employ for which aspect of the operation, only to draw up short and realize that he was on his own for the foreseeable future.
Aside of being alone in the field, he found himself also missing his technical support. The Agency's analysts were pretty much as good as Eric and Nell, but they were more clinical and cut-throat and he didn't really get along with them. They were professionals, but the usual friendly rapport was missing.
Callen sighed and shook his head, dragging his focus back to the here and now.
This meeting would wrap up the operation. He'd gotten more than enough data for the Agency already, had provided crucial information and had demanded to be pulled out. The previously stated goal for the operation had been met weeks ago. Then the meeting in Russia had popped up and his current supervisors had decided to prolong his stay.
To say he had been miffed would be an understatement.
It had added weeks to his undercover job, weeks of carefully maneuvering the board and the figures around him so he would be brought along on the trip.
He had secured his seat on the trip when two other key players had gone missing. Not that he knew anything about that… at all. Callen repressed the smirk.
The squealing of tires was the first indication of trouble before he felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise, tingling with the awareness of impending doom.
Callen turned, seeing and feeling the men around him turn as well.
He hadn't even finished the turn when several bullets slammed into his chest. He gasped breathlessly, the air having been punched out of his chest by the force of the hits, while he staggered backwards and lost his footing.
Distantly, he heard the men around him starting to fire back at the van that swerved past. Falling, trying to grab for something to remain standing, he felt something else strike his shoulder from behind, adding another point of pain.
He was instantly transported back in time to another shooting, another drive-by. This time, he doubted he would be saved though. This time, his partner wasn't there, calling for help, stemming the blood flow and imploring with him to hang on.
This time, he was alone among the enemy, among people who didn't care one way or another if he lived or died. He didn't matter. They would find someone else to take over his job.
Crashing to the ground, still trying to gasp for breath, he felt his awareness dimming.
Callen's eyes rolled over when one of the men he had been about to board a jet with glanced down at him, his eyes narrowing before he shook his head and stepped away, leaving a clear view of the sky above.
Still unable to draw breath, gasping for air like a landed fish, his vision narrowed, darkness approaching and dimming his view of the bright blue California sky.
The jet's engines rumbled to life.
Callen's grip on consciousness faded.
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