CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"How did you escape, G?" Sam knew his partner had glossed over a lot of the details in his public debrief with Vance and the others present.

"I told you," Callen replied evasively.

"Jumped ship, swam to shore, yeah, yeah..." Sam paused. Just as Dr Laura had suspected, he knew Callen was hiding some of his injuries: it was pretty much a given he'd had to fight his way off the ship and goodness knows what else besides, and knowing his partner as he did Sam figured Callen's ribs were either bruised or cracked. True to form though, Callen was remaining reticent with the details in spite of Sam's urging. "It's just you and me now. What are you not saying?"

"Does it matter, Sam?" Callen repeated his earlier response from the boatshed. Sam looked at him for a long time.

"I just want to know that you're okay," he eventually answered quietly.

"I'm here, and I'm fine, and you obsessing over this guilt trip thing you've got going on isn't working for me." Callen said tersely. There was a long pause. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm tired…"

"Don't apologise," Sam interrupted. "It's unsettling." He grinned, apology both accepted and returned, and the awkwardness between them passed.

They were sitting quietly together in the bullpen. Callen was attempting to recharge his batteries after the gruelling debrief. Held only temporarily in abeyance by the numbing injection, the pain in his hand had returned with a vengeance while he was in the middle of explaining Joelle's involvement. They'd had to take a break while he got things back under control. On top of that, he had been saddened albeit not unsurprised to learn of the death of his ex-colleague Paul Ruddings, but at least he had been able to fill in the gaps for the team, and they could rule Ruddings out as Janvier's military contact. After Callen had finished, Vance and Hetty had taken their leave to discuss the state of play while the others all traipsed up to Ops to continue working up leads, but Sam remained downstairs. He was reluctant to let his partner out of his sight. He'd made it his personal mission to help restore Callen to good health, taking the doctor's 'little and often' food and drink orders all too literally as he continued to ply Callen with sustenance throughout the afternoon. Eventually, Callen tired of it. Holding his hand to his bruised ribs he stretched, and stiffly got up.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "You should be resting."

"I've been resting… if I rest any more, I'll take on the permanent form of that couch…" Callen responded with a roll of his eyes at his over-protective partner. "I'm going for a walk…"

"I'll come with you," Sam said quickly.

"Relax! I'm not going outside. I'm going to take a gentle stroll down that corridor, maybe as far as the locker room… Barely out of your sight - unless you feel the need to come and watch me pee." There was irritation in Callen's voice, and Sam recognised that he had overstepped the mark. He held his hands up apologetically.

"I'll check in upstairs."

"That would be a better use of your time."

Sam watched as Callen walked stiffly away from him down the corridor. He was watching his friend so intently he didn't even notice Hetty appearing at his elbow until she spoke.

"Mr Hanna?"

"Hetty!" Sam coughed to cover his surprise. "Er, Director. You're still with us."

"Not for much longer," Vance responded smoothly. "I'm flying back to Washington this evening. Leaving for the airport right now. I have a meeting with the Director at Langley, and suffice to say I have a feeling there will be some political fallout from this turn of events for both our agencies."

"Not Callen's fault, surely!" Sam exclaimed heatedly.

"Relax, Agent Hanna," Vance said with a smile. "It's too early for the blame game to have started on individual victims, and in any case I can assure you it is me they will begin with first. I hope by the time the spotlight shines on Agent Callen, this mess will be long resolved…" It was an order more than a question: a statement of failure simply not being an option.

"Agent, or Ops Manager?" Sam abruptly enquired.

"The lines are a little blurred at the moment," Vance agreed. He turned to Hetty, raising his eyebrows slightly and she nodded equally as imperceptibly. "Hetty has agreed to step back in, in an official capacity, alongside Callen, for now. I trust that is acceptable?"

Sam nodded vaguely. "Is it really me you should be asking?"

"How is your partner?" Hetty enquired.

"He's doing fine," Sam said carefully.

"Should Callen be in a hospital, Agent Hanna?" Vance was as direct as ever.

"Probably," Sam responded truthfully. He continued quickly before Hetty and Vance could interject. "But even under an alias, it's too risky. If Janvier works out he's still alive…." He didn't need to finish the sentence. "Besides, if Callen stays here, stays in play, we've got a chance to pull this back. No one knows Janvier better than Callen… You said yourself the agent's welfare is secondary to the mission…" Sam paused. He could see the concern in both their faces, and he knew they wanted more information. He felt the same concern himself, but the details weren't his to divulge. "Look, you want a full rundown of his injuries, ask him yourself. Yeah, he got beaten about a bit. But he's seen a doctor, and anyway, Callen knows his limits. If he thinks he is able to wait it out, see this through, then I trust him." Even as he spoke, Sam realised that however worried he might be about Callen's hand, nonetheless he spoke the truth. Callen's limits were far beyond what a lot of people considered reasonable, and to many he appeared often to be simply bull-headed. But Sam had worked with him long enough to know that Callen did indeed know his own limits, and whilst he might seem to push them at times, he never took on anything he wasn't capable of handling, and above all he never recklessly endangered those around him. "He won't put any of us at risk."

Hetty still looked concerned.

"But what about himself, Mr Hanna? You know as well as I, that Mr Callen will not rest until Janvier is back behind bars, or dead."


His sore leg prevented him from wandering aimlessly about the building for long, but still Callen was reluctant to return to the claustrophobia of the bullpen and Sam's over-attentive care. It was quiet in the armoury and so that was where he wound up, leaning against one of the tables and propping his left hand under his right elbow to alleviate some of the weight of his arm pulling on the sling round his neck. Even that gentle touch sent shockwaves from his fingertips to his shoulder. Leaving his injured arm out of the equation, his neck and shoulders were faring the worst both from Janvier's cruel restraint and the gruelling swim to shore, and the sling was a much a hindrance as a help.

He sighed, not liking the only solution that had slowly presented itself to him. The idea had half-crossed his mind before, back in the beach house with Nick and Peter, but he had been too tired to latch onto it fully. But now, having gone over the events once again with Vance and the others, the idea had had time to crystallise, and he didn't see another way out.

Janvier would be looking for him. They could use that. Use the man's greed, his single-minded desire for revenge against the one who had caused him to lose his hand, his daughter and his freedom. Use the knowledge that he wanted Callen to auction off to America's enemies just as he planned to auction Incognito.

Callen knew they could use himself as bait to draw Janvier out.

He just didn't know if he was physically up to it.

Dr Laura's attentions seemed a long time ago but glancing up at the clock he saw it had been only a few hours. He bowed his head, contemplating what he'd been through the last few days and taking stock of how he now was, how 'mission-ready' he felt. Quite apart from the physical pain, and the loss of Joelle that he had yet to fully process, Janvier's ruthless torture had taken him to a place in his head he had seldom been before, and he knew the only solution was time. Time to lick his wounds, to lock away the unpalatable bits in the dark recesses of his mind, to re-group. To come back mentally whole, as he had before, and ultimately had faith that he would do again.

The physical damage he had less control over. The blow to his head added to the overall weariness he felt from the effects of the taser and his exertions over the past twenty-four hours. His hand and arm still throbbed mercilessly and despite the front he was putting on for Sam and the others he was genuinely worried about the long-term damage. He shut a door in his mind to that line of thinking. His leg was feeling much better, and thanks to Sam's continuous proffering of food and drink he was feeling overall less weak. Some sleep would be good: Deeks maybe hadn't been far off the mark with his joke about taking a leaf from Nick and Peter's book. However, he had always been able to function on less sleep than most, and the short nap in the car on the way back to the boatshed along with the quiet hours with Sam in the bullpen had gone a long way to replenishing the reserves of his stamina, mentally at least. He would be able to do what needed to be done, to salvage the mission and keep the innocents, who should never have been involved, safe.

He found his mind wandering from Nick and Peter to Joelle, and quickly slammed a shutter on those thoughts too. He couldn't deal with his feelings about Joelle right now.

As if on cue, Hetty slipped into the room. He felt rather than heard her arrival, and lifted his head.

"Hi," he said weakly, caught unawares. Looking away, he gave himself a mental shake. "Checking up on me?"

Hetty noticed the moist shine in his tired eyes and had an overwhelming urge to cross the room and hold him in her arms, but that physical boundary had never yet been crossed: and she doubted it ever would be.

"Director Vance is on his way back to Washington," she informed him, not answering his question verbally. They both knew by her presence in the armoury that she was in fact checking in, and far from minding, Callen was reassured by it. Hetty, motherly in an arms-length way that few would understand, had long had a way of soothing him simply by being nearby, offering solace and comfort in a manner that he could handle. He welcomed both her presence and the calming pretence of her 'business as usual' demeanour.

"I thought he'd stay…" It was half a question, a trace of surprise clear in his voice. He'd expected Vance to stick around, at least until there was news of Janvier's whereabouts. But there again, Vance was better placed in D.C. to deal with the CIA in person: and Callen had no doubt his Director would have something to say about Joelle's involvement and the CIA's dangerous double-bluffing. He almost felt sorry for his counterparts at Langley. Almost. He couldn't lay the blame for what he'd been through entirely at their feet, but had he known the full story he might at least have been more prepared for what he'd had to endure.

"Two operations managers is enough for one team, don't you think?"

His emotions at last fully under control, Callen turned to face Hetty. "You're staying?"

"For now." Hetty paused. "Someone has to keep you kids out of trouble." Callen grinned, welcoming the levity. He stepped away from the table and carefully stretched.

"What next then?"

"I believe your presence is required up in Ops," Hetty told him, and even as she spoke the replacement cell Eric had sorted for him earlier buzzed in his back pocket. Callen chuckled as he read the brief text from Sam.

"You're always one step ahead, aren't you?" he teased, and for that there was no answer. He allowed Hetty to gently shoo him in the direction of the stairs.


A/N: I love Callen and Sam together - but I love Callen and Hetty more. I don't think I'll ever get over my Season 10 post-Mexico disappointment! :(

PS. apologies I think I missed a week - half term holidays last week!