I'm very sorry for the huge delay in the final chapter..! That thing called 'life' has an unfortunate habit of getting in the way of writing time ;-)

I have mixed thoughts on the new season still..! I'm looking forward to the next couple of episodes looking like they will give us some of the promised backlash from the Mexico mission; it hasn't been as prominent as I'd hoped thus far and I'm still finding the time jump a tad unrealistic (when are we going to see Hetty again? :-( )

Hopefully this chapter brings this little 'fill in' between 10x01 and 10x02 to a satisfactory close - I have tried to fit it in to the story arc on the show even though that hasn't gone quite as I might have hoped after the first episode!

CHAPTER FIVE

The weeks passed slowly for Callen, and though his rehab took up much of his time and energy, he found himself often bored. Though he knew it was his own fault for pushing them away, he missed his team, missed working with Sam. Missed the light-hearted banter, the teasing, the often taken for granted camaraderie. He slipped without realising back into his old habits that had led to him being known as 'the Ghost', blending into the background of the busy LA hubbub as, hidden in plain sight, he occasionally tracked his partner and his team, unconsciously re-honing his agent skills that had taken a back seat during his recovery so far.

He made sure his team didn't notice his presence on the occasions he sighted them. He didn't want any of them to feel he was checking up. Nor was he yet cleared for active field work, though he was frequently back in the Mission now to work out in the gym, but only after hours. He didn't yet feel like making small talk with anyone he might see there during the day. He suspected Sam knew he had started working out again: on the rare occasions Sam had managed to get hold of him, he had made many increasingly less subtle hints about a dearth of suitable gym buddies and the various new techniques he was using for his training. But at the moment, still off his game physically, Callen preferred going it alone.

One morning the loneliness was weighing particularly heavy and Callen felt he'd even have welcomed Deeks' inane drivel rather than the silence that followed him everywhere he went. Tracking Sam and deChamps to downtown LA, he stopped to purchase a coffee and a breakfast pastry, watching from a distance as Sam and his temporary partner laughed and joked their way into a building a couple of blocks from him. They worked easily together, effortlessly comfortable with each other and yet underneath the light-hearted exterior, Callen knew they both had each others backs without question. He was glad. He hated not being there while Sam was out in the field, but he felt more comfortable knowing Sam was with the older and more experienced deChamps than Nell or another fledgling agent.

Sitting at one of the many tables and chairs outside the café where he had bought his breakfast, Callen was lost in thought until he heard a commotion down the street, and the all too familiar voice crying 'Federal Agents!' He looked up to see Sam hotly in pursuit of a young man wearing a dark hoody. The sight knocked Callen a little for the man was dressed so similarly to the hooded stranger he had chased all those years ago from his sister's grave, and from his dreams ever since. But this man was real, and he was running fast, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he pushed through the crowded sidewalk, knocking anything he could as he went to impede Sam's progress behind him. He ran with his head mostly turned over his shoulder, eyeing Sam chasing him, and Callen thought it a miracle he moved so fast and agile whilst appearing to barely be looking where he was going. It was clear he had no intention of being caught.

Callen moved from his table which was directly in the young man's path to lean casually against a nearby half-wall, planted with tall shrubs and creating a small garden area for the café's tables. He kept his head down, looking for all the world as if he were oblvious to the approaching commotion but he had half an eye on the approaching youth. Even so, he felt more than saw the man's frantic approach and at exactly the right moment casually Callen extended his right foot so that the hooded runaway tripped, flying face down amongst the tables and chairs scattered by fleeing bystanders. Callen nudged the nearest table he had recently vacated causing it to fall on top of the runaway, before standing back to watch Sam's rapid arrival. Sam flung the table to one side, putting his knee in his suspect's back whilst simultaneously handcuffing the man's arms behind his back. He pulled the suspect roughly to his feet and only then did he catch sight of Callen, still standing against the wall.

"What the…!" he exclaimed, but he was interrupted by deChamps running in to the scene from the other side of the café, having obviously taken the building from the rear. Sam bundled the suspect in her direction before turning gruffly back to Callen.

"Didn't expect to run into you here," Callen said, one of his infuriating smirks firmly in place as he greeted his breathless partner.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "You're not cleared for work yet!"

"It's good to see you too, partner," Callen winked. "I'm just grabbing my morning coffee." He raised a hand which still held the steaming takeaway mug and took a sip, eyeing Sam over the rim. "Sorry, I didn't get you one."

Sam shook his head. "So you're saying you just 'happened' to be here? Right place, right time?"

"Well some might say the wrong place, wrong time," Callen answered cheekily, looking at the trail of destruction left by the man Sam had been pursuing down the street. Tables and chairs outside the café lay strewn in all directions, and beyond that further chaos reigned as shop front displays lay knocked to the floor, along with some less fortunate shoppers who hadn't been quick enough to move out of the way as the runaway suspect forced his way through the busy sidewalk. "Anyway. You're welcome." His eyes twinkled and Sam rolled his eyes to heaven.

"I would have got him."

"Sure you would. I didn't do anything. I'm not even here, right?" Callen winked, and with unconcealed pleasure Sam clapped a hand to his shoulder.

"Damn I've missed this," he said. "How's it going?"

"Well, you know…" Callen shrugged.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."

"Getting there. Okay? And don't think I haven't noticed all those snide remarks about workout buddies. Soon. But I don't want all my hard work undone by you coming down too heavy on me." Callen absentmindedly rubbed his back. It still ached, maddeningly, now and then. Sam nodded.

"Well. I guess I'd better be getting back to it. Getting this weasel back to the boatshed for a little chat…" Sam looked to where the hooded youth was still squirming in deChamps' grasp, taking a reluctant step away from Callen towards them both.

"Don't be too noisy. I might need a morning nap after all this excitement." Sam paused mid-stride to look back at Callen, but his partner's face was a grade one blank.

"How about I meet you there in a few?" deChamps spoke for the first time, sensing that the two partners needed longer to talk. Sam nodded.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Of course," she smiled, shooing him back towards Callen.

"Buy you a coffee?" Callen offered, raising his still unfinished cup.

"Sure, whatever," Sam mumbled, still confused. They queued in silence while Callen bought another two drinks, discarding his half-cold one, and then followed Sam back to where he had parked the Challenger. They got in, and Sam drove slowly in the direction of the boatshed, pulling up a short distance away.

"I've been living in the boatshed," Callen admitted, deciding to come clean.

"You…" Sam was silent. Eventually he shook his head. "Nah. We'd have noticed! We've all been using it for interrogations and stuff."

"Yeah. Well I have." Callen was momentarily defensive.

"Well… why?"

"I couldn't think of anywhere else to go," Callen said simply.

"You're like a cat returning to…"

"Yeah, yeah," Callen flapped his hand. "You've said that before. I got bored moving. Figured the boatshed was as safe as anywhere, til I have time to figure something else out."

"You seem real busy, tracking us and all…"

"I wasn't…." Callen paused, knowing Sam had him beat. "Okay, I was. Consider it part of the rehab."

"I guess I'm glad you haven't lost that particular skill set."

"Of course not," Callen smiled. "Got to have your back, haven't I?"

"Always," Sam said. "Always. And I've always got yours."