"You thought one of the most sophisticated networks in LA was down! "

Kensi had the sense to hang her head and look truly miserable; it was no act.

"Oh Ms. Blythe, don't look like a dog kicked to the curb. I don't blame you. It was clearly his fault," the little diminutive demon said as she rounded her Gorgon stare on Callen.

Callen did a quick debate in his head on defiance vs. chagrin and decided on chagrin and schooled his face to look accordingly.

"At-uh Mr. Callen. Your charades don't work on me. Knock it off and you can consider that a direct order."

Callen immediately straighten up on the couch letting his trademark half smirk adorn his face.

Hetty let out a huff as she turned back to Kensi. "As I was saying, I do not blame you Ms. Blyth because it was an unfair situation I had to put you in. To be asked to watch ones team lead and make him keep in line when he clearly doesn't want to means you have to break the chain of command. This is clearly not the way one normally operates in the field where obedience might be the difference between life and death. The military is built on this principal." Rounding back on her couch bound bad boy she added "And shame on you Mr. Callen for putting your teammate in such a situation. Not cool."

Callen's smirk slid off his face and was replaced by a look of sincerity. "She's right Kensi. I used my position to take advantage of the situation, counting on you reacting as you were taught. I'm sorry."

Kensi fidgeted not really knowing what do say or do and was ever so grateful when Hetty said to her she could go. Kensi headed for the door like a heat seeking missile on target, happy to be released.

"Now, Mr. Callen it is just you and I." He wouldn't swear to it but he also thought he heard her add, "Let the games begin." Callen slouched down a bit further on the couch.

"Now, how long has it been since you were hit on the noggin?"

Callen wasn't really sure anymore. The only thing he was sure of is that whatever happened next was going to seem like an eternity.

"Have you eaten anything since your accident? You really should. I think we'll start with a nice cup of tea. How does that sound?"

Callen nodded his head numbly like that kid in the 'Christmas Story' being told by Santa Claus he wants a football for Christmas. Callen didn't think he actually wanted a cup of tea but his head nodded anyway.

"Good. Now you sit there quietly while I go prepare it." Hetty confidently clip-clopped away assured that her charge would do exactly as told even though he gave the rest of his teammates such a hard time; such was the power of Hetty.

Callen couldn't believe he just sat there like a well-trained dog waiting for his master's return. Since he really had nothing better to do, he took catalog of how he was feeling for he felt sure the mini-ninja would ask upon her return. His head was still pounding though it had lessened considerably. Tired, oh yes he was still very tired. Nausea had decreased and maybe there was actually something close to a hunger pain happening.

Hetty returned with her china tea set, steam wafting out the spout of the flowered pot. What a picture they made; the beat up, unshaven, primal male carefully holding a china tea cup and the dainty, prim and proper, perfectly couture elder female serving. Even a good British comedy would have a hard time explaining that scenario.

"So, Mr. Callen, how do you feel?"

G took a minuscule sip of his tea and paused to see if it was going to stay in place. When it did not appear it was going to come back for a second showing he answered. "Better. My head is still pounding, I'm tired and feel like I could sleep for a week, well make that 8 hours but the room has stopped spinning and the tea is staying put, overall improvement I'd say. In fact," Callen added warming to his subject, "I really think I am fit enough to be left alone."

Hetty's sweet little smile slid onto her face as she made little tut, tut noises. "I don't think so Mr. Callen. After all, I flew across the entire United States to take care of you. "

Callen muttered under his breath, "I didn't ask you to."

The all-knowing and hearing, Hetty replied, "Of course you did not ask; you never ask for help and that is your fatal flaw. There is no shame in needing a little assistance now and then."

"I grew up with no one to rely on; it was just me and…"

"And now you have a whole team who you can trust, rely on, people who have your back and believe it or not care deeply about you and your welfare."

Scowling at her, he ran his hand cross his face and through his hair, wincing when he brushed over his wound. Hetty sat back in her chair, sipped her tea and waited until Callen finally blurted out, "I know, but it is not easy. I am not programmed that way." After a pause he whispered, "I wish I could, but I can't."

"Oh you can and you must. You are part of a team, their leader, and you have responsibilities to them and yourself. It is your job, as their leader, to keep the whole team safe."

"I would do whatever it takes to keep them safe. You know that Hetty."

"I said keeping the whole team safe, which includes you. Putting yourself in dangerous situations and excluding them is not safe for them or you."

"So you want me to sit on the side-lines and send them into battle instead? Is that how I stay 'safe'?"

"I suspect you'd find a way to get yourself in trouble even from the sidelines. No, what I am saying is you are part of a team and when used correctly, the strengths, and yes the weakness, of a team get greater results than that of one man. You have to embrace that…ingrain that… use that, Mr. Callen."

"A man who won't die for something is not fit to live."

"So said Martin Luther King Jr, but perhaps you'd be better contemplating this one 'Dying is easy, it's living that scares me to death'."

Callen racked his brain but couldn't come up with the author. "Winston Churchill?"

Hetty shook her head no. "Annie Lennox, Scottish singer-songwriter, political activist and philanthropist"

Callen still looked puzzled.

"From the Eurythmics…1980s…Sweet Dream (Are Made of This). Would you like me to hum a few bars?" Hetty cleared her throat in preparation.

"Ah, no, no thanks, got it." After a pause, Callen sat back with an incredulous look on his face. "You quoted a rock star to me?"

"I referenced a political activist and philanthropist… who also happens to be a rock star."

"And you know her personally."

"I first met her when she was at the Royal Academy of Music. She was a rather shy and lonely girl back then. I think the last time I saw her was at the Nobel Peace Prize Concert in Oslo, Norway, 2007."

"Is there anyone you don't know…never mind, don't answer that."

"Are we done with this tangent? Shall we get back to the real matter at hand, your blatant disregard for your own safety, the stress that places on your team, your inability to trust and your wanton attitude towards the whole subject?"

"Geez don't sugar coat it Hetty."

"I have very carefully crafted this team and chose you to lead them. I have handed you, as the team lead, a uniquely crafted set to tools. You, Mr. Callen, are ignoring them and even worse, leaving them out in the rain to rust. If you don't use them properly, keep them honed, then they will become dull and useless."

"Now I am a gardener?"

"Don't deflect. You are a leader. You need to work with and lead your team. You are not the lone wolf anymore. You are the leader of the pack. Act like it before you get yourself or someone else killed!" she replied adamantly.

Callen deflated, his usual bravo gone. The last thing he wanted was for anyone of his team to get killed, he'd rather die first… and he supposed that was Hetty's point. His so called 'death-wish' was going to get someone killed and maybe not him. He mulled this over in his mind, like a dog worrying a bone. It was that word. Trust. It made his toes curl. He was supposed to trust in a world where it had been his only experience that no one could be trusted. Foster parents were to be trusted. They would never yell at you for no reason, lock you in a closet, take you in just for the money, or beat you. Trust in your teachers. They are there to educate you, provide guidance and never mock you, say you are stupid, or lazy. Trust in your friends. They are always there for you. They will never call you names, make fun of that fact you are an orphan, try to manipulate you, beat you up, and shun you. Trust your bosses. They are there to help, guide you, watch out for you, and not use you as a scape goat when things go wrong. Trust.

Hetty sat there quietly, sipping her tea and letting her senior agent work it out, confident he would come to the right conclusion.

Trust, in Sam, the big guy, to have his back; to save his skinny white ass as the man so elegantly put it. He was supposed to trust Sam would always be there; and, if the truth be known, Sam always has been there. Callen tried to think of a time in his partnership with Sam when the man wasn't there and came up blank. It was always him, Callen, who let his partner down. There was a trust issue alright, but it was reversed, Sam could not trust that Callen would have his back. Damn, Callen cursed at himself. How the hell did that happen? He had become someone he couldn't abide… a person that could not be trusted.

And what about Kensi? He'd done the same to her; made it so she could not trust him. Geez, only a few hours he went out of his way to bamboozle her to get what he wanted with no regards to where that left her. Great way to build trust Callen, lie to her, wonderful leadership skills, he mentally scolded himself. Glancing over at the great white owl, he thought he detected the slightest smirk on her tea-sipping façade. She was reading his mind again; he knew it. She knew he finally got her point about 'team', 'trust' and who was not 'trustworthy' on the team. HIM. And the little ninja was over there eating it up.

To prove she was reading his mind, Hetty said "We have met the enemy and he is us."

"Great, now you are quoting cartoon characters to me."

"If the shoe fits…"

Callen threw his hands in the air. "Stop. I give and…," he added quietly, "I get it." He sat back heavily on the couch, head bowed, shoulders drooped, defeat written over every inch of his body. After all these years, he had met the enemy and it was him. How the hell did she expect him to change, to learn to trust someone else when he could not trust himself?

"But you can," said the Ops manager mind-reader. "I know you can or I would not have chosen you. Sam knows you can that is why he will follow you to the ends of the Earth to protect you. Kensi knows and that is why she believes you, even when you are leading her falsely down the garden path. The only person, who does not believe in you, is you."

Callen looked up at her, eyes boring into her, trying to read, convince himself what she said was the truth.

"I realize that after 35 years of lacking trust, that you are not going to become a golden retriever overnight, but I at least want you to move from lone wolf to say, oh I don't know, Canaan Dog."

A small smile played around Callen's lip at the esoteric reference. "Canaan Dog?"

"Canaan Dog. Wild desert dog originally found in the region now known as Israel. Named by Dr. Menzel back in the 1930s, after the Land of Canaan. They were first domesticated to be used by the Haganah, Israel's first defense force. Later the breed spread to other countries to include the United States and in 1997, was accepted by the AKC."

"And you want me to be like a Canaan Dog?"

"Yes, Mr. Callen, it would be a start. The Canaan Dog is a survivor because of his self-reliance and his adaptability. He is very intelligent and learns quickly but he is also territorial and wary of strangers. This makes the Canaan dog an excellent protector of home and family. But, the Canaan must be socialized at an early age if he is to learn to trust his human pack. You, Mr. Callen, are what occurs when the Canaan is not well-socialized at an early age. But have no fear, even an older Canaan, if handled with a firm hand and a loving heart, can learn to trust. Unlike the lone wolf, a Canaan Dog can learn to trust and be a member of the pack. That is what I am asking you to do, trust in your pack mates. Of course I will play the role of the firm but loving handler in your re-socialization efforts."

"Great," Callen quipped. "Where do you come up with these references?"

"I am a well-read person, Mr. Callen. It is only natural I would have, in some point in my career, studied the Israel Defense department and their history, hence coming across the Canaan Dog. In fact, did you know…"

"Enough Hetty. My head hurts as it is. Please. I get it. Trust. I will try, really try but don't expect overnight miracles."

"Of course not. But do expect to get a sharp tug on the leash if you do start to slip. And, praise and maybe even a treat for good work."

"Fair enough. "

"Good, now that that is settled, how about something to eat? I am starving. But first," she said whipping a thermometer out of her pocketbook, "let's check to see if you have a fever."

"I don't know where you plan to stick that but I can indisputably tell you I don't have a fever."

"Now, now Mr. Callen. I'll be the judge of that and should you have a fever we'll simply have to give you another dose of antibiotics," she said pulling a syringe out of her Mary-Poppins bag.

"What do you have a full medical kit in there?"

"Always prepared is my motto."

"Yeh, you, Sam and the Boy Scouts"

"Now, are you going to cooperate or do I have to handcuff you to the wall again like Sam?" she queried pulling a set of handcuffs from her purse.

Afraid to disobey in fear of what else she might pull out of the bag of hers Callen said, "Alright, but only if it goes under the tongue and NOT anywhere else and no matter what it says no shots."

"Well, if you insist. I am perfectly capable of starting an IV and administering the antibiotics that way," she said reaching into her purse again. "But is has been my experience that hurts a lot more than a quick shot." Hetty paused, her hand still in the bowels of her purse, owl eyes blinking at Callen from behind her oversized glasses. "Dare me Mr. Callen?"

Knowing when he was beat Callen shook his head, opened his mouth and started to roll up his shirt sleeve.

"Like I said… loving heart but firm hand is the key. I'll have you domesticated and house-broken in no time" she stated inserting the thermometer under her team leaders tongue. Callen started to reply but Hetty MD held up a crooked finger. "Quiet. We don't want a false reading."

Callen, sat back, shut up and wondered how the hell he ever thought he'd best Hetty.

"After we finish this, I think a quick supervised cleansing, you are a bit ripe you know, a bite to eat and then sufficient time will have passed for a well-deserved rest period, monitored of course." Looking at the pained expression on his face she said with sincerity "Trust me."

The End