The sun was up when Sam opened his eyes the next day and that wasn't the only thing. Callen was sitting upright on the blanket drinking from a canteen and eating a protein bar. Sam was amazed to see his partner sitting calmly and eating after last night's episode. Pushing up into a seated position, Sam addressed Callen. "You're eating."
"I know you have one dose of morphine left and I suspect you are going to jab me with it again so I thought I'd eat first. This way I'll have something to throw up when the nausea hits. Dry heaves seem so unproductive," Callen finished sarcastically.
"If you feel better we can skip the needle," Sam said hoping his partner would concur and he was disappointed and scared when Callen didn't immediately agree to forego the shot like he always did when offered medical assistance; to Sam, it meant Callen was seriously hurting and had major doubts himself about his ability to function without the help of the drugs.
Callen placed the half-eaten bar on the ground next to him and stared off into the distance. Even from where Sam sat, he could see the frustration and concern overlaid in Callen's blue eyes. "Yeh, well unless you have a car tucked away somewhere nearby, I assume we are going on another forced march today. I'm not sure I can do that without the help of the drugs. Hell, I'm not sure I can even do it with the drugs," he said being brutally honest. Callen glanced over at Sam to judge his reaction to his last speech. He saw concern in his partner's eyes and something else. "What's going on Sam?" he demanded, turning to fully face his friend.
"Nothing," Sam said casually as he stretched out his upper body. "You were running a high fever last night. It broke. Do you remember?"
Callen scrubbed his hand over his increasing stubble. He had sensitive skin, not that he would ever admit that to anyone and shaving too often left his face irritated so he had gotten into the habit of not shaving every day. Luckily, in his line of work that was acceptable. But this stubble was getting annoying and he wished he could shave it off. Finally he got around to answering Sam's question. "Not really. Why?"
Sam stood up and wandered off to answer the call of nature. "No reason," he called back over his shoulder as he disappeared.
The fact that Sam said there was no reason, meant there was a reason. Callen wracked his fuzzy brain but he couldn't recall anything that happened last night. He panicked internally when he realized he couldn't recall much since they had bailed out of Zoya into the water; in fact, he wasn't even sure of the day. When Sam returned, Callen offhandedly asked, "What day is it?"
Grabbing a MRE and canteen, Sam slid on to the ground near Callen, eating it cold while looking out over the stream. He suspected G's memory was being ravaged by the torture, dehydration, drugs and fever of the last few days so he laid out a timeline for his ailing partner without further embarrassing him. "You were captured on Tuesday afternoon. I rescued you on Friday. Saturday we jumped in the lake. Saturday night we slept in a three-star cave. Sunday morning we took an invigorating hike thru the foothills and last night we slept here. Therefore, today is Monday; beginning of a new work week."
Sam watched Callen process all the information and he could tell his friend was trying not to be upset by how much he didn't recall. "You're injured G. It's alright," but the look on Callen's face showed plainly it was not.
Never one to appear vulnerable for long, G did what he always did, shied away from the real subject with a snarky remark. "I would have cooked you eggs and bacon," Callen said vaguely waving at the MRE Sam was eating, "but I couldn't find the eggs, bacon or frying pan. Who packed for this little vacation anyway?"
"Hetty. Got a complaint, take it up with her, when we both get back," Sam suggested.
"Might just do that," Callen said with bravado even though both men knew he wouldn't do,it. Callen had admitted once out loud that Hetty scared him a little.
When he was finished eating, Sam cleaned up the camp area, threw the suntan lotion at his partner again, ensured the fire was well dampened and filled the canteens. As he was getting ready to pack the bag, he looked over at Callen who had moved from the blanket to lean against a nearby rock.
"It's that time," Sam said.
"Unless you are planning to pull a Miller beer out of that backpack, it is not that time," Callen retorted.
Sam held up the syringe of antibiotics. "You need this G. I can tell by the way you're standing that the gunshot wound is as infected as are the ones on your back. This might just keep the infection at bay long enough to get you to a real medical facility."
Callen hated that Sam knew him well enough to tell by his stance how hurt he was; he had to figure out what tell he was displaying that Sam was homing in on. "Hate hospitals," he grumbled.
"Don't I know it," Sam agreed moving towards Callen with the ever familiar disinfectant pad and the dreaded needle. "But I don't want to break in new partner. I nearly have you trained. Roll up your sleeve." Callen looked at him plaintively and Sam added, "Right, I forgot. You can't move your other arm today can you."
"I can," he shot back as Sam rolled up the sleeve on his good arm. "It just hurts, a little."
"Yeh, right." Sam was getting very good at this; a quick swipe, followed by the stick and it was over. He rolled down G's sleeve again before walking away.
"That's how you knew," Callen burst out thinking he had nailed his tell. "That I was worse. You saw that I wasn't using my arm."
"That's only one of the tells I observed," Sam agreed playing with Callen's mind a bit knowing the agent would secretly obsess over what tells he was displaying and maybe that distraction would help get him through the morning. Sam slung the pack over his shoulder. "You ready?"
Callen pushed off the rock and stood. "You're not going to bug me about the morphine shot?" Callen asked as he caught up to Sam who had started heading south again.
"No. Do you want me too? There is only one dose left. Thought I'd save it for a real emergency," Sam replied mildly.
"Good idea," though Sam wasn't so sure Callen's face reflected the same sentiment that came out his mouth. "So what's the agenda today, tour guide? And by the way, yesterday's sights, not so spectacular. You better up the ante or your tip gonna suffer."
"Ha. You don't even have your wallet. Or your gun. Or your phone. Hetty's is gonna be so pissed at you. That's a lot of expensive government equipment you have lost my friend," Sam impishly reminded him.
"Speaking of she-who-shall-not-be-named, when do we call the old lady today?" Callen asked.
Sam gave his partner a sideways glance. "Did I just hear you call Hetty an old lady?"
Callen quickly started babbling. "No. Of course not. I said..." Callen struggled to find a word that sounded like old. He ran the rhyming words quickly through his head, searching for a winner. Sold, mold, hold, gold, cold, fold, mold, bold; there it was. "I said bold lady. BOLD. Gotta admit it suits her well."
Sam heartily laughed something he had not done in days. "I admit it suits her perfectly. You were lucky to pull that out of your ass."
Callen wisely kept quiet; he hated the residual effects of morphine, it always screwed with his mind.
"Anyways," Sam said, "At 0900 we'll call Ops again. I estimate we still have at least another day to day and a half of walking.
"That long." Callen unintentionally blurted out. He recovered rapidly with, "That's a long time to be stuck with no one to talk to but you."
"Want me to go find a nice jihadist? I am sure that would be an interesting discussion," Sam countered and Callen kept quiet for once.
At the anointed time the call was made, info swapped and the call ended. After disconnecting, Sam stowed the satphone and waved at Callen. "Let's head out."
Callen had refused to talk to anyone in Ops on the phone. Sam concluded that the injured man feared his voice would reveal how bad off he was and the last thing Callen ever wanted was anyone's pity. Sam watched as Callen pushed his flagging body off the ground and after a few false starts, moved in his direction. Sam debated about using the last morphine shot to put Callen's pain at bay, but Sam stuck with his original plan to employ it at the point when they were desperate. As long as Callen was able to walk, they weren't at that point yet.