"I think you are underestimating the thoroughness of my team," Callen responded, but other than his gut telling him this was a bad idea, he couldn't come up with a viable reason to abolish the plan when so much was at stake.


CHAPTER THREE – PRESENT DAY (SUNDAY EVENING)

Should have paid more attention to his gut, Callen thought morosely as, left alone once more, he again tried to free himself. Writhing against his bonds, he tried to pinpoint where it had gone wrong. Getting close to Janvier again had always carried an element of risk, but how had he ended up captured himself, and so quickly? Was the CIA's high-value target involved? What had happened to him and the other prisoners on the bus, and more importantly to the temporary partner he'd engaged for this mission, and Joelle? Were they both now caught too, somewhere else on the boat? Or perhaps worse…. Callen knew Janvier had no mercy. If his partner and Joelle had been in the way, simple pieces that could be sacrificed to move the game along, they would have been killed… Yet more deaths to weigh on his conscience. Not that he expected to live long enough himself for it to weigh heavy.

The last thing he remembered of the mission was pinning Janvier up against the prison bus. Now here he was, imprisoned himself, on a boat somewhere. Bobbing on the water but anchored, he was sure, for there was no feeling of movement. No engine noise. Alone in the quiet and the dark. Tied tightly to a pillar with ropes securely knotted around his legs and chest…. It didn't make any sense. Janvier must be working with someone, but who?

It troubled him that Janvier knew about the Incognito software. How? And why? He could only know about it if he was somehow involved in its theft or sale... The operation no longer seemed a tricky mission he was walking a tightrope to stay in control of on a personal level, but a ruthless game at the hands of the most fearsome adversary any of them had ever dealt with.

A game…. He'd been out of the game too long, Callen thought. Stuck behind a desk, feeling his way into his new role – a role he didn't care for very much, though he refused to admit that even to himself, let alone anyone else. Sam had managed to convince him this was the only way forward for their team after Hetty retired: and heaven knew they'd been burned enough times with bureaucrats sent from Washington who didn't understand the nuances of their operations. It had worked out – eventually – with Granger, but that was largely down to the long history he'd had with Hetty. Things hadn't been the same without either of them.

But it was useless regretting what was past. All he could do now was focus on the present, just like he'd been trying to do the last few months. Easier said than done.

Somewhere, somehow, he'd dropped his guard, had missed a vital bit of information that led him now to his current predicament. Callen cursed again, still trying to free himself, but all that happened was that his wrists started to bleed against the ropes that bound him.

"You won't get free." A soft voice caused him to snap his head up, searching in the darkness. The light was flicked on again.

"What the hell, Jo?" he hissed fiercely as Joelle came into his view, picking her way cautiously through the boxes and crates.

"Shhhh," she whispered, holding her fingers to her lips.

"What the hell is going on?" Callen demanded, full of distrust now. Joelle, Joelle had betrayed him? Had given him up to Janvier?

"I can't explain right now," Joelle whispered back.

"What do you mean, you can't explain? Untie me, for God's sake…"

"I've got a phone," she whispered urgently, drowning him out. "Call in the cavalry. Someone you trust. Hurry!" Her last word was pleading, desperate, and she held the phone out to Callen, keeping it still while he fumbled to punch in the number. Someone he trusted… That circle was growing ever smaller, but even though he and Sam no longer worked closely or even spent all that much time together, Callen knew in his heart his ex-partner would move heaven and earth still to help him if he was ever in trouble. And this definitely qualified as trouble.

Come on, Sam, he thought desperately. Joelle held the phone to his ear for him and he heard it ringing and ringing. His heart started beating faster in impatience, but there was no answer, and eventually the phone rang off with no option to leave a message.

"Damn," he muttered, looking up to meet Joelle's eyes. They were full of fear. It made no sense. Why would she betray him, and then try to help him? Why was she so scared? Perhaps she had been captured too… Perhaps she had managed to escape and find him? But why then wouldn't she untie him? "Try again, quickly!" Callen whispered. The faintest of moans escaped Joelle's lips as she quickly pressed the buttons to re-dial, and held the phone to Callen's ear again. Her hands were trembling and she dropped it with a clatter.

"Shit!" Joelle picked the cell back up, but already they could hear footsteps in the corridor.

Callen thought he could hear Sam's voice answering tinnily in the tiny speaker, and he whispered "Sam?" with urgency, but before he could say any more Joelle shut the phone off and slid it quickly into the front of her pants, hidden in the flat of her stomach. She glanced apologetically at Callen, and backed quickly away from him as she turned towards the door through which Janvier entered. Brighter light from the corridor spilled into the dim hold, making the dark shape of Janvier framed in the doorway appear all the more menacing for a moment.

"You seem to be one step ahead of me, Agent Taylor," he said, looking at her harshly as he crossed the space, and she met his gaze coldly.

"I was just checking he was still awake for your video," she answered, holding his look. "He was hit pretty hard… he's not much good to us if he's out of it!" She spoke crossly, exuding confidence, a cooperative ally if not an equal partner, and Callen looked from one to the other suspiciously.

"What's going on?" he demanded, but he was ignored as Janvier held his hand up apologetically to Joelle.

"You are right, of course. You are needed, Agent Callen. At least for a little while longer anyway!" He raised his eyebrows and grinned nastily at Callen.


The water was crystal clear. The sinking sun looked like it was being swallowed by the very sea itself, casting a soft golden light as Sam rose from the water. It had been a beautiful evening for a dive. Sam hadn't free dived for a long time, and it felt good to be at one with the water again. He hadn't managed to spear any fish this time, but that didn't matter. The peace, the tranquillity. It centred him. There was no room in the mind for idle thoughts during a free dive: it was just him, the water, an absence of time and space… just being. He really ought to make time to do it more often. Hell knew, it had been a tough year, and therapy came in many forms.

Sam heaved himself wetly up the ladder to his boat, shaking the water from himself like a dog as he reached the deck. He realised the ringing in his ears wasn't just the usual pressure change after a dive – inside the boat, his phone was ringing. And ringing incessantly. Crossing the deck quickly, Sam unlocked the door and entered the cabin.

The phone was showing a blocked number and Sam eyed it suspiciously, leaving it to ring off, but within seconds, it was ringing again. He made the reluctant decision to answer.

There was no noise as he held the phone to his ear, and with irritation Sam said "Hello? Hello, who is this?" He was just about to give in and hang up, thinking it was a prank call, though how on earth the caller had got hold of his private number he couldn't imagine. As he moved the phone away from his ear, he heard the faintest whisper.

"Sam?"

And then the line went dead.


Sam climbed the stairs at Ops two at a time, bursting through the sliding doors with such vigour that the two tech operatives spun on their chairs in surprise.

"Well?" he demanded of Eric and Nell.

"It's untraceable, Sam," Eric said nervously.

"Are you SURE it was Callen?" Nell asked.

"I'm as sure as I can be," Sam replied.

"But if he only said one word…" Eric began, and quickly fell silent as Sam shot a dagger-eyed glare at him.

"I know my partner's voice, Eric," Sam said impatiently. My ex-partner, he thought. True, he didn't speak to Callen as much these days. It felt like they had drifted apart the past couple of years. Even when they had still been working together, Sam reflected now how often he had been dismissive or impatient, even irritated, with Callen since Michelle's death. It was almost like Callen being around reminded him that his wife wasn't. With a rush of guilt, Sam began to ponder if that was that why he had pushed Callen into taking Hetty's role. He'd meant it when he said it would be the best thing for the team, but had he also been thinking it would be the best thing for himself, to distance himself still further from all those who reminded him of his wife?

The changes meant bureaucracy took up much of Callen's time, and Sam was busy teaching Connor Hill the ropes, whilst stepping into his new role as Lead Agent. Managing the team, keeping them from falling apart when – things – happened… They'd had some tough times recently, and he'd had to work hard to keep them together and focussed. They had seemed to be effortlessly glued together with Callen as their leader, and Hetty at the helm, but it wasn't like that any more.

Even idle chat with Callen was rare nowadays. Their conversation – if you could call it that – on Friday had been the longest one in weeks. Nonetheless… irrespective of any of that, Sam knew damn well that he'd recognise Callen's voice on the phone however long it had been since they spoke.

"Look guys, how about if we just assume it was Callen," Nell said quickly as she sensed Sam's irritation, seeking to pour oil on waters before they became more troubled. "Is it so odd that he would call? Maybe he needed to discuss something with you… Maybe something has come up he needs you to take care of while he's up in Washington?"

"It was a blocked number. Not Callen's cell. Untraceable, you say?"

"He could have borrowed a phone," Eric chimed in. "Maybe from someone in the Washington office. Their phones would be untraceable too…"

"Maybe. But why did the line go dead, and why hasn't he called back?" And why was he whispering, Sam thought to himself. "Look, I've just got a feeling, that's all. Something's off. Call it partner-intuition, whatever. But if you can't trace the call that came to me, can you at least trace Callen's cell? Or find out another way if he is where he is supposed to be?"

"It's Sunday evening, Sam," Nell said.

"I know what day it is dammit!" Sam's voice came out harsher than he intended, and he softened it. "Look, I'm sorry Nell. I'm sorry I've dragged you both in here and you're right, it's probably nothing. But I've got a bad feeling... Do me a favour and just trust me, okay? Find out where Callen is staying, and put me in touch with him: I don't care how, I just want to speak to him."

"You told us he was due in the Washington offices for a meeting tomorrow morning: other than that, I don't know where he is supposed to be," Nell continued, accepting Sam's apology with a brief smile. "He'll probably be in a hotel right now… And before you say it, no I haven't booked anything for him: he didn't ask me to. He didn't even tell anyone he was going… except you." Nell generally had a great deal of faith in the 'gut feelings' of Callen and Sam – and Hetty before them – but she was also astute enough to have noticed the rift in the relationship of the senior ex-partners over the past year. Sam had been pushing Callen away even before he had taken over Hetty's role, and Callen had withdrawn increasingly into himself for some time now. His current unexplained disappearance certainly wasn't atypical for the lone wolf he had once again become, so she was finding it hard now to rise to Sam's level of alarm based on a mystery phone call that could have any number of logical explanations.

"You were worried about him on Friday!" Eric suddenly exclaimed, remembering. Nell raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "And he disappeared for over three hours at lunch on Friday, remember? Something's up, I'm sure of it. Call it a gut feeling – but like you said, I know what Callen's like…"


A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the long gap between chapters! I have been *flat out* with work lately, it's been driving me mad when I have been itching to carry on with this lol!

Oh - to answer MMc's review. I've watched and re-watched every interaction Callen and Janvier have had (damn I wish they'd bring him back on the show for real! He is the best villain they've ever had!) Janvier has said more than once he lives to kill Callen. 'It's all I live for, it's all I care about.' The way I see it, he blames Callen for everything that has happened to him - right back to being shot in the mouth and getting caught the first time, to Vaziri taking his hand off, to his long stay in super max/solitary. He wants to hurt Callen by any means possible (in particular getting to him by hurting those he cares about) but, ultimately, I believe he also wants to kill him.