A/N: Many, many thanks to evershort, ChlollieRockz, cdfuller21, Rebel Magnus, TwilightPony21, and an anonymous person for reviewing, and thanks to coul915 for adding this story to alerts!
Now, remember I said there was going to be a surprise this chapter? Read on to find out what it is! It comes quite early on - in the first scene - and you'd better prepare yourself, 'cause it is SHOCKING!
Chapter 10: One Day Later
Hetty quietly opened the door to the hospital ward, tsk-ing to herself when she saw who was inside.
Kensi was slumped over in the chair, her head resting on her arms on Callen's bed. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply.
Hetty smiled slightly. The scene was so peaceful, so serene – unlike the panicked frenzy of yesterday.
Eric and Nell had long since left to return to Ops, followed by Nate and Renko (Renko had had to leave for a new assignment, but had made Sam promise to call when they had more news of Callen's condition). Deeks had stayed well past midnight before he went home to get some sleep – but Kensi and Sam had actually stood up to Hetty when she told them to follow suit and flat-out refused to leave the hospital. The diminutive Operations Manager, however, cleverly worked around Sam's stubbornness by getting Lita to call him. The ex-SEAL couldn't deny his wife's pleas for him to come home.
Kensi, on the other hand, was another matter.
Hetty was well aware of how Kensi felt about Callen – and more in the know than she let on about their relationship. She knew perfectly well why it had hit – not quite rock-bottom, but something close to it – and why it was starting to warm up again. And for this to happen so soon after they had reconciled and agreed to give it another try…well, it was nothing short of a cruel twist of fate, and Hetty had not had the heart to put her full effort into getting Kensi home – if she had, even Kensi would not be able to resist her.
Every situation had a line, though.
Hetty walked over to Kensi and gently shook her shoulder. The young agent jerked awake and blinked owlishly.
"Hetty?" she questioned, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
"I seem to recall telling you to go home, Miss Blye," Hetty said wryly.
In answer, Kensi glanced, almost involuntarily, at Callen's still face. Hetty almost had to chuckle at how topsy-turvy the situation had become. From being unwilling to visit Callen, Kensi had progressed to refusing to leave his bedside after her second turn in the ward.
"I will keep an eye on him," Hetty assured her. "And Sam will take the next shift. He's in good hands." Her tone turned stern. "Now, go home." As Kensi opened her mouth to protest, she added firmly, "It is not a request, Miss Blye."
Kensi sighed, but nodded. But just as she rose to leave, one of the computers in the room emitted sharp, urgent beeps. Within seconds, the rapid beeps had blended into a long, high whine that spiked daggers of ice cold fear into Kensi and that brought doctors and nurses running.
"Oh, he's crashing," said one doctor with a stethoscope around the neck of her pristine lab coat. Cool, professional fingers checked the pulse in Callen's jugular artery. Finding no heartbeat, the doctor announced, "No pulse. Call a code!"
"Get the crash cart in here!" someone else yelled.
Kensi had erupted into panic at the words, 'No pulse'.
"G!" she shouted.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, you need to get out of here," a nurse said kindly, but urgently.
Kensi, however, refused to be shooed. She nimbly dodged the nurse's restraining arm and rushed to Callen's side.
"Ma'am, I need you to step away…" said the doctor who had called the code – apparently she was the lead physician here. Kensi ignored her.
"G, don't do this," she begged. "You made me a promise…you said you'd never leave…G, you promised!"
Meanwhile, the doctor had ripped the front Callen's hospital-issue gown open to expose his bare chest, and was now holding the paddles of the defibrillator machine on the crash cart a nurse had wheeled in.
"Ma'am, step back!" she commanded forcefully.
Kensi showed no signs of moving, but Hetty took charge of the situation; sidestepping the despairing nurse who was trying to get them out, she placed restraining hands on Kensi and made her move away so the doctors could work on Callen.
Once Kensi was out of the way, the doctor placed the paddles at the necessary points on Callen's chest.
"Charging…clear!"
An electric jolt surged into Callen's body, causing him to jerk. The long, consistent whine of his heart monitor, though, did not waver.
"G…" Kensi whispered fearfully. "Come on, G!"
"Charge to 200," the doctor ordered. "Charging…clear!"
Another shock, another jerk…but still no change.
"Charge to 300. Charging…clear!"
Hetty looked on anxiously, preparing herself for the worst. In her arms, Kensi cried softly.
"Charge to 400. Charging…clear!"
The nurse monitoring Callen's vitals shook her head at the doctor's questioning look. "Still no response, doctor."
"Damn it," the doctor swore. With a sad sigh, she lifted the paddles and placed them back on the cart. Kensi watched disbelievingly. "Call it," the doctor said to the young intern next to her.
"No!" Kensi cried. "You can't give up! You can't! You've gotta do it again!"
The doctor, however, was shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but when patients don't respond at a charge of 400…"
"No!" Kensi shrieked. Wrenching herself from Hetty's arms, she sprinted to the bed. "G, come on…you've gotta come back…please, G, don't leave me!" she pleaded. "You said you wouldn't leave…you promised!"
The experienced medical staff in the room sighed, exchanging sympathetic glances with each other. They had all seen this same picture repeated in others, too many times. It never got any less tragic.
The young intern – the one asked to call time of death – on the other hand, had never witnessed the heartbreaking scene before his eyes now. His throat closed up as he tried to do his duty, to call time of death…but the words stuck in his vocal cords, and wouldn't come out.
"Kensi…" Hetty soothed, touching the younger woman's shoulder. "Come, dear." Her voice was aged, full of sorrow and grief. "There's nothing we can do…"
"No!" Kensi shouted, as Hetty tried to pull her away. This couldn't be the end. She refused to believe it. "G, please…" she begged.
Deep down, she knew there was no longer any hope…G Callen was gone, and nothing anyone could say or do would bring him back. But she was trying to protect herself; by denying the reality, she hoped – foolishly – that she could reshape it into something different, something better. She had let this man into her heart, her life – and he had become such a big part of her, integrated himself to such an extent – that to let him go now would be to tear away half of who she was.
It would damage her…beyond repair.
Kensi couldn't live with that – and she knew she couldn't – so she automatically rejected it, refused to accept this reality.
It might just kill her to accept it, which was precisely why she couldn't.
The punching bag in the gym was usually not utilized by any of OSP's lead team unless they were upset about something or someone. Its most frequent visitor was Sam, who made it a habit to take out any anger, sadness, or hurt on the bag until he'd worked it out of his system – which had subsequently earned the bag the unenviable position of being 'Sam's'. Once or twice, the late – and greatly missed – Dom had used it to clear his head as well – and occasionally, even Callen and Deeks would throw a few punches at it.
The bag had never, however, ever been used by Kensi…until now.
The female agent usually chose to express her emotions verbally or in her journal, if at all – normally she kept them bottled up and didn't open up to anyone. Of course, given that Callen had been one of the few who were the exception to this rule, it made sense that he would also be the reason she was beating the crap out of Sam's punching bag for the first time in her life.
Every punch she threw at the bag was a representation of the anger, hurt, and frustration she was feeling over a certain blue-eyed lead agent.
After their promise to try to be friends again, both of them had put in a sincere effort…an effort that was destroyed after Callen had blown up at her after an investigation into a missing Comescu family member that struck too close to home. His Achilles heel – his family – had flared up again, effectively tearing apart the reconciliatory measures they'd made.
So here she was, at nine in the evening, fighting the punching bag for all she was worth, because she had just come to terms with the truth that she and Callen would never be able to be 'just friends' again.
She had accepted the reality.
She had accepted that they could only either be mere acquaintances or lovers…and since the latter seemed highly unlikely, it appeared that she and Callen would only be able to pursue a lukewarm acquaintanceship until they stopped working together.
She hated it.
She'd accepted it, but she hated it.
Kensi sat by herself in a corner of the waiting room, numb from grief. Her chin rested on her knees, and her arms wrapped around her legs, squeezing them tightly against her body, as if such a defensive position could protect her, shelter her from the frightening, impossible reality that surrounded her.
A gentle hand landed on her shoulder, and she cast blank brown eyes up at filled green-grey ones behind glasses.
"Here, dear," Hetty said, offering her the cup of coffee in her hand. Kensi, running on autopilot, automatically reached out for it and took a few sips while Hetty settled next to her.
"I've already told Sam and the others," Hetty continued, her voice heavy, filled with sadness.
Kensi nodded dully, unable to speak. She kept sipping at her coffee, reveling at the feel of the hot liquid sliding down her throat, warming her cold, numb insides.
She couldn't believe he was gone.
After all he had been through, everything he had done…G Callen was really and truly dead. Never again would he laugh and jest with Sam; never again would he tease her about Project Runway; never again would he take control of a heated situation, or go flawlessly undercover, or argue stubbornly with Hetty…no, G Callen would never do any of that, ever again.
"Time of death: 8:41 am."
That was what the intern had declared, stuttering and swallowing, offering Kensi and Hetty his deepest sympathy with his eyes. Kensi knew he would never look at death the same way again, just as she would never be able to think about OSP, or NCIS, without thinking of Callen.
A few minutes later, when Sam, Deeks, Eric, Nell, and Nate arrived, her coffee was all finished, and she had returned to brooding over the – worse than unfortunate, the miserable – turn of events. But she lifted her head to see how the others were taking the news.
Sam was, understandably, in shock. His face was a mask of disbelief and sorrow, with only a few tells showing how deeply he was truly hurting.
Deeks' face wore an expression not unlike the one he'd assumed when Ray's car blew up – but unlike that time, this was not an act.
Eric was blank, unaccepting; Nell was the opposite, crying into his T-shirt.
And Nate had walled himself off, retreating to the psychologist within to analyze and deal with his pain.
Deeks was the first to reach her. With all the compassion he could muster, he enveloped Kensi into a hug. At his touch, the grieving agent finally allowed herself to let go, to mourn for the man she had loved. In the sanctuary of her partner's arms, Kensi Blye allowed herself to cry.
And then they were all crying, grieving. Even Hetty allowed her iron control, her impeccable composure, to slip, and permitted her pain release in the form of her hot tears. All masks faded away, all facades fell, all walls crumbled. In this one, unbearable moment, they were united in their grief for one they would never forget.
Callen sighed as he settled, for the sixth night in a row, on the couch in OSP, after a particularly bad quarrel with Kensi (he was actually starting to wonder if he would ever go home again). He could hear someone relentlessly punching the bag in the gym, and he knew it was Kensi. He hated himself for driving her to do what she had never done before to express her negative emotions, and he was more sorry than he could say…but there didn't seem to be anything he – either of them – could do. It was like they were stuck in this unending cycle of warm friendship, uneasy acquaintanceship, and arguments that hurt both of them. And unfortunately, the 'warm friendship' part had lately ceased to exist.
Callen did not sleep that night. He lay on the couch, listening to Kensi torture the punching bag until well into the wee hours of the morning. When she finally stopped and made her way out of the gym, he turned on his side and pretended to be asleep, all the while feeling her eyes on him until she left OSP for the night.
When she was gone, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, losing himself in his thoughts.
The service was short, straightforward, and to the point. The pastor did not waste time allowing the congregation to see the body – Sam had asked him not to. It would have been too painful.
The congregation, incidentally, was also exceedingly small. Not many people knew the real Callen well enough to attend his funeral, but the few who were there were the closest there was.
Of course, there was his team – Sam, Kensi, and Deeks. Then there was Hetty, his Operations Manager and the closest thing to a mother he'd known; Eric and Nell, as the two technicians in Ops who were part of his small circle of friends; Renko, who had taken a temporary leave from his assignment to attend; and several other OSP agents, who had come to pay their respects to the legendary agent who could become anyone.
Anyone, Kensi reflected bitterly, except the man she wanted him to be.
Director Vance was also there, having just flown in from D.C. that morning. He might be a fairly strict commander, but he cared for each and every agent under his command – and G Callen was one of the best. With him were Leroy Jethro Gibbs – a man who'd known Callen almost as long as Hetty had – and Abby Sciuto, who had absolutely refused to stay behind once she heard where Gibbs was going and why. The normally cheerful, upbeat Goth had tears in her eyes, and was cradled in Gibbs' arms for comfort. Gibbs himself kept his face stoic, composed; to an outsider it might have seemed as though he hardly cared – but everyone there knew he was hurting badly.
After the service, the coffin was carried out to the small graveyard. Kensi watched as the undertakers lowered it into the cavity of soil that had been dug earlier.
"Easy, Kensi," Deeks consoled, supporting her with his arm as she swayed where she stood, feeling like the air had been sucked out of her as the coffin sank beneath the earth.
Kensi's strangled sob was the only answer he got.
The pastor gave a short eulogy, blessing the remains and praying for Callen to find peace in his death, before the undertakers started shoveling dirt over the coffin.
And suddenly Kensi felt like she couldn't breathe anymore.
Oh, she tried. She strained to draw breath into her lungs, but the oxygen she desperately sought evaded her. Spots danced in front of her vision, turning it red, blue, and yellow. Her chest heaved empty gasps and her legs shook beneath her.
"Kensi?" Deeks asked anxiously.
Sam had noticed what was happening as well – and he rushed over to the two partners, hoping he was not about to lose another teammate.
"Kensi!" he cried, helping Deeks support her. Together, they lowered her onto the ground so she could relax and breathe easier.
"Breathe, Kensi," Sam said urgently, massaging her shoulders.
By now everyone was watching. Hetty and Renko approached the trio to see how they could help.
"What's happening?" Renko questioned.
"It's too much for her," Hetty said, shaking her head.
"Are you saying she's dying?" Deeks demanded. The idea was ludicrous. Physically, Kensi was in perfect health.
"I did not say that, Mr. Deeks," Hetty disagreed.
Kensi could hear them talking, as if from far away. Her vision was swimming and her head felt light. She wondered if she really was dying.
It had to be better than living with the misery of a world without Callen.
Yes, it would be better, she decided. Infinitely so.
So, giving up, Kensi Blye closed her eyes and surrendered to the thick, black, inky darkness.
A/N: Yup, I killed him (ducks rotten tomatoes).
And with this, I have broken another record - I have NEVER, ever before, killed a character in a multi-chaptered story and had them STAY dead. Permanent deaths have only occurred in my one-shots - until today. Hey, I told you this chapter surprised me.
So, anyways, the tie-ins to the show in this chapter don't come from any specific episode, except Plan B (Season 2 Episode 22).
Now, today is my sixteenth birthday - and guess what the best present you could give me is? Reviews, of course! Give me some love! ;)