A/N: Here's the next one. A huge thank you to all the lovely reviews and everyone who's reading this. Sorry if the warning for the last chapter kind of spoiled the surprise, I didn't want anyone to get upset, even though I could never kill Callen, I love him too much ;). Speaking of Callen, there isn't a lot of him right now but that will change very soon.

I wrote this when I was tired, so any mistakes are mine. Now, on with the chapter!

The pounding echoed throughout the gym, the repetitive motion creating a chorus of beats as his arms impacted with each thrust. Sweat rolled down his face and neck as his mind wandered to the reason behind his most recent attack on the punching bag, each swing increasing with the pent-up anger and sorrow he couldn't hold back any longer.

XX

The phone lightly clicked as it settled into its receiver. Hetty heaved a great sigh as she set the phone down, having just gotten off with the director. It had been almost an hour since they'd all watched the video of her agent being killed, and the news was already taking its toll on her. She set her tea cup aside, having long since gone cold as she had tried to think of the best way to inform Vance. The phone call had made the situation all the more real, as if speaking the words out loud had made it true. Of course, she want to believe it; but with the way the mission had been going, any false hope could only do more damage to her crumbling team. She had a feeling Eric and Nell wouldn't get very far in locating the suspects as they'd done an exceptional job at covering their tracks.

For once, she didn't have an answer. She was not one to give up easily, but the only evidence they had was that her agent was dead. Nothing they had could suggest otherwise, no matter how hard she wished for something to confirm her doubt. The best they could do at this point is track where that sedan went.

This all made her feel so useless. She wasn't used to this; usually there had been someway or someone she could persuade that would help her team out of tough situations, but there was nothing for her to work with. She started to consider a certain letter hidden within her desk, but soon decided on waiting a few more days till she knew for certain. She slowly stood and went to make a fresh pot of tea. With all the calls she still had to make, she could tell there would be no end in sight for this exhausting day.

XX

The doors of the Ops room whooshed open, sending a gust of cold air into the room as Deeks finally made his way out. Eric and Nell had been trying to find the sedan or the van; basically any leads that their agents could follow up on. They knew their attempts were half-hearted though. The two techs couldn't stop thinking about the video and how no amount of searching or analyzing they did could reverse a bullet.

When he knew they were finally alone, Eric snuck a glance toward Nell. Her eyes were red and her face was set in a firm line, no doubt trying to work through her emotions to concentrate on the screen in front of her.

"Are you okay?" It was a dumb question, one Eric regretted the moment he said it, but he couldn't stop himself from asking it.

Nell stopped typing, looking down and placing her hands in her lap. "Are you?" She spoke in a quiet voice.

Eric cleared his throat and looked away. "Right, dumb question."

"It isn't."

"Isn't what?"

"A dumb question. And, thanks." Nell tipped her head up toward Eric, offering a small smile. Her eyes were dull, showing none of the usual sparkle that matched her smile. Eric returned her smile, but much like Nell's it didn't reach his eyes.

Everyone knew, whether it had to be said or not, that they represented more of the human side of the team. They were the more innocent ones who didn't put themselves in harm's way on a daily basis and didn't have to do questionable things to get the job done. As a result, the youngest members were also usually a little more carefree than the rest. They brought a positive energy to the rest that, along with Deeks, kept them balanced and a little more grounded.

In this kind of situation, however, they never could keep up the same kind of attitude. They hated the fact that whenever their agents went out they could only pray that they'd all come back, and that sometimes they didn't. They'd feel as if they had failed their job of having their backs. When one of their own didn't make it back, the team was never quite the same.

Unfortunately, it looked as if another one of those fearful days was here. Eric's computer pinged, interrupting the silence that had settled between them. After tapping a few keys, another search was signaling its lack of results found.

XX

Deeks quietly left Ops after shaking his thoughts aside. He was climbing down the stairs when a small huddle near the mission's doors caught his eye. Recognizing it, he walked over and sat down next to his partner, not saying a word as Kensi kept he head in her knees, arms wrapped around her legs.

A few minutes passed before Kensi lifted her head, face raw from her emotions finally getting the better of her. She stared straight ahead of her.

"Why does this always happen?" she whispered, sounding a little lost.

"Kens," Deeks started.

"Everyone I care about leaves me."

"Kensi, this is not because of you." He turned her chin towards him, catching her eyes. "Hey, listen to me. Callen didn't want this, none of us did. He didn't leave by choice, this just happened. You're still his favorite agent," Deeks paused, "and I know you know how much that means considering how he and Sam are."

A small smile grew on Kensi's lips. Slowly though, it turned sad as she realized what he said.

"You're right, he didn't choose this; we just didn't try hard enough."

"You know that's not true, Kens. We worked up until the last second, and I'm sure he knew we'd do everything to find him. He wouldn't blame any one of us."

She sighed, knowing he was right. She turned her head away from her partner, looking towards their desks in the bullpen. Dozens of mornings and cases and paperwork with her team passed through her mind, knowing that it would all change now; they were one short.

XX

Hetty quietly approached as her senior agent beat the punching bag tirelessly in the dim light consuming the gym. She moved around so she could be seen, observing the exhaustion radiating off of him. Sam ignored her and continued to punch and kick harder, sweat dripping off with every movement.

"Sam." No response, he continued attacking the heavy bag.

"Sam." She spoke again, raising her voice over the noise of the impact. Finally, Sam relented and stopped to turn toward her.

Hetty in no way or form wanted to do this, but she knew someone had to do it. It was best if it was her. She took a calming breath. "Eric and Nell followed any leads they could find, no matter how slim. Other than kaleidoscope continuing to search for the vehicles, there are no further leads we can pursue." She sighed and looked down towards her hands clasped in front of her.

Sam looked like he was ready to argue and shout and tear down every wall in sight until he could find where he was and whoever had done this. Hetty simply raised her hand and met his eyes.

"Go home, Sam. There's nothing else we can do."

Sam held his stance for a few seconds before he eventually gave in, releasing the tension in his shoulders and looking away from his boss. Without word, Hetty turned around and walked out, her steps echoing throughout the silent gym. Sam didn't move until he knew she was gone. He grabbed the bag and leaned against it, catching his breath. Sweat dripped off his forehead and left tracks down his face, mixing with the silent tears that traced downward as they fell.

He pushed off the punching bag, grabbed his water, and walked out.

Callen slowly woke up, dazed and confused as he realized he'd passed out again. I've got to stop doing that, he thought. He struggled to sit up on the firm bed he laid on. He realized he was still in his running shorts and shirtless, a bandage over his gunshot. It still throbbed and burned, but he wasn't feeling the effects of the infection anymore. Looking around, he noticed he was in a small room with plain white walls, a door opposite of him. A sink and mirror and a small counter occupied the rest of the space; making it look like he was in a makeshift hospital room.

He moved to stand and try to escape when he noticed the IV in his right hand. Just as he was reaching to pull it out, the door burst open, revealing a tall brunette in a white coat.

"Don't pull it out. You'll regret it if you do." Callen grew a skeptical look as he observed the woman, but left the tube alone. A man dressed in all black followed her standing in the doorway. He sent a silent warning to Callen, who returned the glare just as quickly.

The woman who Callen presumed to be a doctor walked up to him and checked his bandages, showing no reaction in her face. She walked over to the machine next to Callen's bed and checked its readings, Callen following her every movement as he eyed the guard. Suddenly, she turned toward him and spoke.

"Your shoulder should heal fine. The antibiotics are fighting the infection and it should be gone within the next couple days." She pulled off her gloves, each one making a loud snapping sound as they came off. "Keep that IV in." She added sharply. She turned around and in no time she and the guard were gone, the sound of a deadbolt echoing in the tiny room.

Callen looked around, feeling frustrated and as lost as ever. He hated not being in control; being clueless and at the mercy of others. He wished he'd at least know who was behind this, who'd go through all the trouble to fake his shooting, especially if they'd already shot him in his shoulder. Most importantly though, he needed to find a way to escape or contact his team; surely they were looking for him.

Quickly, his mind made the connection. Did they stage the shooting so his team would think he was dead? So they'd stop looking? Did they already believe he was dead? It was the only reason he could think of, but it would suggest that whoever was behind this knew him and how to find him. This thought worried him; for there were many enemies out there who'd have more than enough motive and means to plan revenge. But why give him antibiotics? Why patch him up? It could only mean he'd be here awhile.

Dread started to build up in his gut as he weighed the possibilities and the small of chance of escape. He had no idea how many people were wherever he was, but if he was right about one of his enemies orchestrating this, it'd make it significantly harder to find a way out.

Next chapter we meet the man behind this, and there's more Callen. Please review!