Originally, Custody of the Heart, was supposed to be a one shot, that was going to be followed up with an angst ridden one shot sequel set five years into the future, titled Custody of the Soul, that reflected on how one choice could forever change your life and the people around you. How, even the best of intentions, the 'right' decisions, are the wrong decisions. Sometimes, there are situations that are truly no win for either side. However, because of the wonderful feedback that y'all gave, and the prickling of the thorn in my shipper heart over writing a Nallen break up fic, I've scraped the sequel and added onto the plot from the ending of the original one shot. Perhaps I will write the original sequel as an alternate universe/ending eventually, but for now this story universe will be created.

I hope that you enjoy the long, bumpy, and at times heartbreaking journey that Callen and Nell will struggle to face as individuals and as a couple as they cope with the reasoning behind Nell's decision to leave.

WARNING: Reader discretion is advised due to the sensitive subject matter of this story. Please keep in mind that there will be a happy-ending, even though rollercoaster ride there is laced with heartbreak, frustration, and despair.

Chapter Two

The radio clock blinked 4:18 AM. It had started lightly raining thirty minutes ago, but Nell continued to drive. She had driven around for hours with no destination in mind; after all, she had nowhere to go. The longer she drove, the more she thought about what she had done. She had broken not only her own heart, but she had broken Callen's heart; something that she had sworn never to do. It hurt to cry. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt to stay up right. It hurt to keep her eyes open.

When the light rain turned to a downpour, she pulled over and parked her car in the emergency lane of the long stretch of highway. It was dark, but the few auto-mobile headlights that passed every so often and lights from surrounding buildings just off the highway kept the highway dimly lit, just enough light to drive safely, but even in the most perfect weather conditions, she should not be driving during her current emotional state. Oblivious to a squad car slowing as it approached her car, parking several yards away, before finally driving off.

She placed her forehead on the steering wheel and struggled to breathe. She was having a panic attack. She was no stranger to them so she knew, in theory, what to do to calm her, but she was struggling to execute every trick she had learned. It had been months since her last attack, before she had moved in with Callen. She was hyperventilating dangerously so. The thought that she was going to die briefly crossed her mind. The thought pushed her to fight harder to gain control of her breathing. She had everything and more to live for. She refused to end her and her baby's lives on the side of the road, hours after breaking up with him so that she could have a life with her child. She had chosen her unborn baby over her heart, the man she loved, the baby's father. However, if she were honest, her heart had not been Callen's for two weeks now. As soon as she saw the word pregnant on the high tech home pregnancy test, her heart ceased to be Callen's or even her own; with one word, the custody switched to be that of the miracle she carried.

Almost in control, but breathing heavily, still gasping every other breath for air, she tried to find her phone, her fingertips touching an electronic keychain with three keys on it in the passenger seat. She cried out in frustration, which almost put her into another panic attack. She had left both her phone and tablet at home. No, she corrected herself, that house was no longer her home it was his, had always been his.

She laughed, ironically, at herself; she looked for her phone, but she had abruptly and rashly left, not even taking the time to put shoes on, just barely taking the time to grab the keys from the decorative bowl beside the door. He had let her go. She knew he would, she was not one prone to dramatics to get what she wanted. This issue between them was nothing that a temper tantrum could solve; nothing, but a miracle would solve it, and even then she doubted that it would, because, after all, he did not want their, her miracle. She had left, because it was the only option when he refused to move forward. Their lives had paralleled two years ago, but one factor had changed, and it separated not only their relationship, but also the life that they were developing, had built.

She stared at the keychain in the passenger seat. It mocked her, accusing her of stealing them so that he would not come find her, come looking for her. She had not taken his keys on purpose; why would she when she knew that he would not search for her? It had been an accident. Her keys had been underneath his and she had grabbed both sets. She placed her forehead back unto the steering wheel as she hugged her mid-section. Her breathing slowly eventually became steadier.

Tears both unshed and cried clouded her vision. She tightly closed her eyes, but she could not bring herself to want this to be a nightmare that she could wake from, though she desperately wanted their argument, their conversation earlier to have ended different. If someone had told her two years ago that she would be the one to leave, she would have looked at them in surprise that their relationship would last that long. She had thought that they would have a friends-with-benefits sort of relationship for a few weeks, a few months if they were lucky. Oh, how they had been lucky, the friends-with-benefits had almost immediately transformed into a steady relationship, however veiled in secrecy the relationship had been, it was steady until the heartbreaking end.

As she rested her head against the steering wheel, cradled her mid-section, and concentrated on her breathing she began to reminisce about their relationship; the first time they had met; when colleague became friend, which quickly became lover; lover simultaneously become significant other; significant other in the shadows of their daily life, behind closed doors, never at the office. For almost a half hour she reflected on the memories they had made before she switched to weaving the what-if's and the why-couldn't-it-be's. Just as she allowed herself to dream of the first time Callen would hold their baby, she was shaken out of her misery.

THUD!

POUND!

THUD!

SCRAPE!

She jumped at the sounds and screamed out in terror when she looked out the blurry from the pouring rain, driver side window.

A man in a grey hooded sweatshirt with a dark ballcap tried to get into the car, the locked door prevented him from doing so, as he held at an angle a long cylinder shaped weapon of some sort in his right hand near his head.

She fumbled with the keys and tried to turn the ignition to drive off, but froze when over the pounding rain and sounds of flowing traffic, she heard the man yell her name, and then he yelled her nickname as a bright light blinded her.

A nickname only one man had ever used.

Nell Bell.

Neither noticed the Mercedes parked several miles away under an overpass.

The same Mercedes that, three hours ago, had started to tail her.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate all of the readership, alerts, favourites, and reviews.