Chapter Eleven

Mike Renko had known that agreeing to spar with Callen in the mental and emotion state that he was in, would cause him to become a living, breathing punching bag that fought back, what he had not expected was for Callen to answer his questions or confide in him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mike asked, twenty minutes after they had begun sparring. He dodged Callen's fist and took an unsuccessful jab at him.

Callen dodged the jab and lowered his arms. He walked over to where they had left their clean white towels and water bottles. He patted his face dry with the towel and wrapped it around his neck before he took a long swig of the refreshing water. Mike interpreted the silence as a signal to back off.

"Sorry, man, you don't have to talk about it." Mike apologized as he picked up his towel, patted his face and neck dry before he wrapped it around his neck. As he twisted the cap off his water bottle, he continued. "Say what you need to say on the mat, understood."

"No," Callen said as he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "It's not that, Mike." He shook his head as he saw the look of doubt that Mike was trying to conceal "I don't want to talk about it, but I know that I can't file it away and ignore it like I do everything else." He shook his head and smiled wryly, "I don't know where to start. I've never been this," He paused as he considered his wording, the word he decided on, was one that came close to explaining, but not what he was looking for, "Affected before. Nell's in a category all her own."

"Affected?" Mike repeated, very careful not to show his amusement that G. Callen was lovesick over some woman. He realized that Callen would kill him, for thinking that he was lovesick, but at the current moment, that was how Mike interpreted Callen's behavior. "Tell me about Nell. I don't know her that well." He paused, corrected what he said, "I know that somehow, she received Hetty's approval, because she's been an Intelligence Analyst for how long now, years? You and I both know that Intelligence Analysts rub her the wrong way, and are transferred within days or weeks." He paused again, watching Callen take another drink of water. "She seems skittish." Mike stated, before he bluntly asked, "Are you prepared to be with someone so timid? She seems scared of her own shadow. She didn't even want to be alone with you at the boat shed."

Callen smirked at how Mike described Nell, "She isn't as nervous as she, sometimes, comes across. She's actually, one of the most composed and courageous people, I know. Earlier, she was scared of herself, and saw you as an out, a shield, but you left and she had to face not only herself, but me, too."

Unconvinced, Mike said, "So, tell me about this composed and courageous, Nell, that I haven't had the pleasure to meet." Mike took a sip of water and when Callen did not answer, Mike rephrased his question, "Look, I know absolutely nothing about the girl. I can read the file on her alias until I can recite it forward and backward in my sleep while nursing a hangover, but this is her first gig and she's greener than fake grass. She'll be more Nell than Eleanor."

"Fake grass," Callen repeated as he shook his head and twisted the cap back on the bottle of water. "That's the best you got?"

"I'll leave the philosophical quips to Sam." Mike replied, capping his bottle, too. "But that doesn't make what I said any less true. Will I be 'assisting' a shrinking violet or a pyscho Audrey Junior*?"

"Audrey Junior?" Called chuckled at his friend's exaggeration, "She's not a man eating flower, Mike."

"Which makes her the violet," Mike inferred.

"She's not a flower." Callen stated, shaking his head.

"Well, what is she then?" Mike asked.

"Come on," Callen replied as he tilted his head toward the mat, "I'll tell you about her, while I beat your ass."

"Whatever," Mike goaded, "While I beat your ass, you mean."

The two men locked up, Callen quickly got the upper hand, twisting Mike's arm in a wristlock behind his back. "One of the most important thing to know about Nell, is that she's got control issues, pick your battles."

Mike snorted as he reversed the wristlock, placing Callen in his own, as he continued to laugh, he asked, "Control issues?"

"What's so funny?" Callen asked, executing an arm drag, which turned into an arm bar, both men landing on the mat hard.

"Ooof!" Mike exclaimed, upon landing. As he tried to reverse or escape the hold, he answered, "You both have control issues, how is that going to work? I don't see you letting her wear the pants."

Callen tightened the hold.

"Shit!" Mike exclaimed.

"A relationship is an equal partnership." Callen replied, twisting Mike's arm ever so.

"And you know so much about relationships?" Mike retorted drily as he struggled to get out of the hold. "But I could see how some aspects of the relationship when control issues could be fun."

The innuendo triggered something in Callen and he subconsciously tightened the hold to an unbearable and scary grip.

"Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!" Mike exclaimed quickly at the excruciating pain.

Callen immediately let go, realizing that he allowed the sparring session, his anger to go too far. He jumped to his feet and offered Mike a hand up. "Look, I'm sorry; I lost touch with reality there for a moment."

"You think?" Mike sarcastically asked, as he with the opposite hand that had been in the arm bar, took Callen's proffered hand. He knew he risked, Callen losing touch with reality again, but he was a brave man, or stupid, or both, but regardless, he stated. "You love her."

Callen paused; a fleeting look of panic crossed his features, before a look of contemplation replaced it. "I care about her, yes, very much."

"No," Mike stated, shaking his arm, attempting to retrieve feeling. "You love her, you might not realize it yet, but you do, man." He took a step back out of preservation, when he saw the murderous look flash in his best friend's eyes. "Look, deny it, admit it, or ignore it, but it's there and you knew before I said something. Dude, you could have very easily broken my arm over a joking comment that I would have made about anyone, and I, no, we both have joked about the women in our lives. Hell we have rated and compared them, but this one is different, if not, because of my almost broken arm, but because you kissed the girl in front of everyone, you hate public displays of affection, that was like the only thing you ever complained about back when we were partners. You hated using a girl for the greater good and you hated the PDA that came along with it. You can lie to her or yourself, but you can't lie to me, I've known you far too long. I haven't decided whether it's good or bad, but she is different."

"That she is," Callen admitted, his jaw clenched, not liking how Mike had pegged him so soon. Mike knew him as well as Sam, actually knew some things that Sam didn't, but his absence from the team, and lack of interaction with Callen, had made Mike more astute. What did they say about a fresh pair of eyes? Whatever it was, it was true. A look of conflict then surrender crossed Callen's features. "Because I can't just walk away, I have no alias to hide behind. It's going to be me and her; that scares the shit out of me."

"You're just going to have to work harder to make sure that this one works out." Mike replied bravely blunt. "Like I said earlier, I don't know her, but I hope that she's what you want and need. You deserve some happiness, G." He paused, almost reconsidering on what he was about to say, but decided that Callen needed to hear someone else vocalize what he was sure to be thinking, comparing, overanalyzing. "Nell isn't Tracy or Kristen or Macy."

"No, she isn't." Callen agreed tightly, before walking away, leaving Mike standing in the middle of the gym wondering whether he should have brought up Macy. After all, that relationship had ended before it had begun.

Author's Note: *Audrey Junior (a cross between a butterwort and a Venus Flytrap) is a man eating plant from the 1960 (and 1986) film, "The Little Shop of Horrors," which was nicknamed Audrey Junior by one of the main characters.

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