A/N: Hey! I'm back from my vacation, just took a few days to get this chapter up. I hope it fills in some of the gaps I left last week, and some of your questions will be answered. Italics are past tense, and you can assume the dialogue is Russian.
Callen sat on the filthy mattress, his back and head resting against the wall as he breathed heavily. He'd just finished a modified version of his normal workout, knowing how important it was to stay fit and strong. Scratch marks adorned the wall behind him, indicating how long he'd been stuck there. Assuming he was given only one meal a day, Callen estimated he'd been there for about four months.
Once it became clear that he would be there awhile, Callen's training took over. He did his best to stay healthy physically and mentally, but he knew now that even he couldn't keep it up forever. The filth in his prison had slowly intensified and his hair had become too long for his liking. He had been held in less than stellar health conditions and with the lack of proper nutrition he figured he'd probably lost some weight too.
Callen had grown restless as the number of marks he made on the wall continue to grow. He'd hoped to some degree that his team would figure it out and find him, but as time went on he realized they probably believed he was dead. He wondered how they were doing. Had they already moved on? Were they still at least looking? His thoughts soon wandered to his partner, the one person who hadn't given up on him when he wanted to give up himself. Did he believe it too? Did he already find a new, better partner?
Callen quickly dismissed his last question. He knew Sam thought he was annoying and irritating at times, but he should know his partner better. Sam wouldn't let it go and wouldn't believe anything until he had undeniable proof in front of him. If anything, he was probably following up leads when he wasn't being forced to work with a new partner that he hadn't managed to scare off.
He'd tried to keep his mind occupied by practicing various languages and going over old operations, but many times his mind wandered to his team. When he arrived at NCIS, he preferred to work alone, but as the years went by he learned to depend on them and work as a team. Now, they were the only thing giving him hope that he could get out of this mess, and the idea that Sam wouldn't stop looking was enough for him to keep holding on.
He didn't have many options anyway; he either had to wait for his team to find him or find a way out once Iverson decided to put whatever plan he had in motion. Countless times, Callen had pondered over why he was here and what Iverson was planning. When it came to Iverson, it could be anything, for he was as unpredictable as Callen. In contrast though, Iverson was focused on making a profit; that was undeniable.
Hatred for the man from his past distracted him. Before Callen knew it, he lost himself in the memories.
Callen, despite his age, was already one of the best undercover agents for the CIA. He was undercover in Moscow as Nikolai Krymov, a powerful Russian arms dealer looking to work with Alexsandr Novikov. Novikov was involved in everything from artillery to human trafficking, but he was careful and the CIA didn't have enough evidence to arrest him, so naturally they would send in their best undercover that speaks Russian. They also sent in his partner and good friend, Scott Iverson, as his case handler.
After a few months, Novikov highly regarded his new business partner and Callen became good friends with him. Just when Callen was close to completing a deal with their buyers and calling in the cavalry, everything that could go wrong, did.
Moscow: June, 1999
Nikolai Krymov entered the huge warehouse, looking for the buyers he was supposed to meet with to discuss the details of the exchange the next day.
"Aliyev! Are you here?" He shouted in perfect Russian as he looked around, his voice echoing in the desolate warehouse.
He heard a sound behind him and before he could react, the muzzle of a gun appeared against the back of his neck.
"Ah, Agent Callen, so nice of you to join us," Aliyev, the one with the gun against him, countered. Callen's face had the slightest reaction, but otherwise remained neutral. The two other men with Aliyev walked around to face him.
"I don't understand what you are saying." Callen tried.
"I know you are CIA, don't even try to deny it. Your partner, Scott, is the one who informed us, for a small exchange, of course." Callen's eyes widened a fraction, but it was enough for the Russian to notice. "Looks like both of us should really be more careful of the people we work with."
Callen slipped his hand inside his pocket discreetly, pushing a series of numbers into his burn phone. Thankfully, the small movement went unnoticed as Aliyev started leading him forward with the gun still pressed against his neck. They arrived in a small office on the opposite side of the warehouse. Callen was pushed into a chair as the two men tied his hands to the armrests.
"Now, Agent Callen, this is simple. I only need to know what the CIA knows about us and if there are any more undercover agents we should know about." Callen sent him a cold glare in return, but remained silent.
Aliyev sighed. "Oh, Agent Callen, I really wish you would've chose differently." A fist suddenly came flying towards Callen's face.
The next few hours were a blur for Callen, and in hindsight, he really couldn't remember much of what happened at all until a CIA extraction team showed up. When they finally traced his agent-in-distress signal and secured the buyers, they found him with several broken ribs, numerous bruises, knife slashes, a stab wound in his right thigh, and a fractured left radius.
He was pulled out of the operation and medically evacuated to a top facility in Vienna. After several weeks in the hospital, he was flown back to the states and debriefed by his director. Callen was informed that they had been looking for Iverson since he was rescued, but there had been no sign of him. He had quickly disappeared once he burned Callen and could be anywhere in the world. They determined that Callen's alias was only burned to the buyers, but the CIA chose to terminate it, deciding it was too risky. They faked the death of Nikolai Krymov, and the case was closed. Even with all the evidence Callen collected, it still wasn't enough and Novikov got away.
Callen wasn't home even a week before he resigned, looking to join another alphabet agency and get as far away as he could from the betrayal by his partner. He made his own decision to always work alone after that, and his trust was rarely seen by anyone.
It wasn't until he came across Hetty that he allowed himself to work with or trust anyone. The risk had been worth it as his partner and team proved to be reliable time and time again, but Iverson was never seen nor heard from again, at least until now. One thing Callen could never understand is how Iverson could betray him for money.
Speak of the devil, he thought. The sound of a doorknob turning disturbed his thoughts. Callen pulled himself out of the memories and was on high alert as the door began to creak open, creating a deafening noise in the never-ending silence he'd been in for four months. His internal clock told him it wasn't time for his meal yet, which meant Iverson could finally be changing the game. He sat up and watched as the door slowly opened.
"What do we have Eric?" Sam asked as they walked through the automatic doors of the Ops center.
"Dead marine, on leave from Afghanistan." The team took their places in front of the screen as his picture came up.
"He has been working on a classified project over there, but returned to the States three weeks ago," Nell picked up. "He was found dead in an alley late last night."
"Director Vance is concerned his death could be related to this classified project he's been working on," Eric continued. "He wants us to find his killers quickly and determine whether or not the project is compromised."
"Alright, his file says he was married," Sam observed, "Kensi, Deeks, go interview her. Campbell and I will try to find out what exactly he was working on. Eric, Nell, go through everyone he came in contact with since returning on leave."
The team split up to investigate; however, the case proved to be less exciting than they thought. When Kensi and Deeks arrived at the house to interview his wife, she seemed more nervous than devastated while they spoke to her. They decided to bring her to the boatshed, and it didn't take long for her to confess.
They found out from her that her husband was cheating on her since he returned. She confronted him last night and in a rage she hit him over the head with a lamp, killing him. She didn't know what to do, so she dumped his body in an alley and returned to the house to clean the blood out of her carpet.
Quickly, the team wrapped up the case and the director was pleased that the project he had been working on wasn't compromised. It was Friday and Hetty decided to let them leave early. With that, Campbell quickly left for the day. The rest of the team hadn't left yet and Kensi saw the opportunity for them to spend some time together.
Eric and Nell were making their way down the stairs when Kensi called out, "Hey, anyone want to grab dinner?"
"Sure." Eric said.
"I'm in." Nell piped.
"Definitely, I'm starving." Deeks announced.
Noticing she was one short of a response, she turned toward Sam. "Sam, what about you?"
"Nah, I'm good. Still have some paperwork to finish." Sam shrugged as he picked up a file. Kensi looked at him and considered his response for a minute, but figured she wouldn't change his mind.
"Alright, but call us if you decide to join us after all," she said. Sam smiled and nodded in return. Kensi, Deeks, Eric, and Nell all left together, leaving Sam alone in the silent mission.
Once it was quiet, Sam sighed and put the file back on his desk. He looked around the quiet bullpen, wondering how his life had come to this. Michelle had taken their kids to visit their grandparents, and he had no other plans. He should be out spending time with his team, not making excuses and spending his Friday night alone, but team outings had just never been the same.
Sam decided he needed some time to think, so he packed up his things and left the mission, locking up behind him. He got in his challenger and drove in silence, unsure of his destination. He watched the cars and streets of Los Angeles pass by, until he found himself driving up a familiar street. He barely realized what he was doing until he parked his challenger in a driveway. He sat in his car and stared at the house, until finally he got out and walked up to the front door, pulling the key out of the flower pot.
A few times in the past months he found himself visiting here. Despite Hetty's attempts to convince him, Sam wouldn't allow Callen's house to be sold, telling her that if he's still alive and returns, he'd want his house back. Hetty finally relented, but told Sam it was up to him to look after it. The house ended up being a place he came to when he needed to think, or when he was frustrated that despite his searching he couldn't find anything about who had him or where he was.
Sam entered the house and walked through it, making sure everything was still where it belonged. Once he finished, he sat in the lone armchair in the front room.
He went over in his mind the leads he searched out, the places he's looked, and the options he's considered. He knew that even if Callen was alive before, the chances of finding him alive now were slim to none, but as Sam sat in his partner's house, he felt even stronger than ever that Callen wasn't dead. He didn't know how, but he knew it, and he also had a feeling that he was running out of time to find him. He just needed something, anything to point him in the right direction; and he needed it soon.