Chapter 7

Callen watched as the Humvee and his partner drove away to safety. He had done it. He had saved Sam so he could continue being a father and a husband, so he could live and have another chance. Callen was happy. But it was bittersweet after all. As the Humvee sped away, he was left with a sudden feeling of despair and hopelessness. He was left behind again, alone, like every foster home, like every family that changed their mind. He never really mattered. It seemed he was always so close, but not close enough. He was never important enough for anybody to go that extra mile. So he was always left alone to deal with the fallout. It wasn't something new but it hurt nonetheless…every time it happened including now.

In the midst of Callen's thoughts, as his heart shattered, he felt the familiar sensation of a bullet slamming into his body. The pain radiated throughout his upper body. It threw him off balance and he fell forward hitting his head violently against the hard dirt. He drifted in and out of consciousness, as the images of fire, smoke and desperate men flashed in front of his eyes like a strobe light. Moments passed and Callen forced himself to formulate some coherent thoughts. He was down, but not out. He couldn't stay here. He knew what was coming. He knew Westerman was a man of his word.

Everything hurt and his head was swimming, but mustering up all his strength and determination, he pushed himself up onto his knees with one arm. The other one wouldn't obey, the pain was excruciating. But he'd been through worse before. Slowly, like a baby learning to walk, he forced himself to his feet, grunts and all. Hunched over, taking in as much air as possible, he forced a step then another until he had covered several metres and he stopped, and looked up to the pre-dawn sky. Although he couldn't get a visual, he recognized the deadly sound barrier-breaking whirs. The Patriots had been launched. The first one hit followed closely by a second and a third. The impact was devastating. The air and the ground splintered and exploded. Callen turned away from the heat and the flames as his body was thrown into the air like a rag doll, landing in some bushes surrounding the camp. He hit the ground. He didn't feel his flesh burning and he didn't feel the shrapnel lodge into his legs and back. He just lost consciousness.

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The tragedy they had experienced took the form of silence. No one spoke, no one had anything to say that could alleviate the feelings of guilt and regret. The Humvee kept moving compass due east until a friendly voice came out of nowhere, "Attention men! It's Commander Westerman. How you boys doin'?" There was no cheering…there was only sadness for a fallen comrade.

Jose` looked everywhere for the two way radio, but couldn't find it. Thomas joined in on the search until Sam's rough voice spoke without looking at his teammates, "G always hides it, usually down behind the control panel. No one ever looks there."

Jose` glanced over to Sam with an apologetic nod of gratitude. But Sam was too grief-stricken to care. He had left Callen behind. He still couldn't believe what he had been forced to do. Sam had the privilege of being part of a select group that Callen trusted and he had let him down. He had shattered that trust. But it didn't matter really…Callen was gone and he would never get to apologize. He would carry this guilt every day until it would burn with him at his death.

Jose` leant over and ran his fingers around the panel until he found the switch and flicked it on, "Roger that, Commander. Team Charlie safe, sound and all accounted for and heading your way." The realization of what Jose` had said hit him suddenly, when the remaining SEALs all turned to face him. Jose`'s face crumbled as he whispered, "I'm sorry." Sam didn't flinch.

Westerman's voice was suddenly light and almost cheery, "Great news men! You are 5 clicks away from the military air transport we have waiting. All you need to do is drive right in and we take off. Over and out."

That's exactly what they did. The Humvee drove up the ramp of the Boeing Globetrotter. In minutes the ramp was up and the Humvee secured. Slowly Team Charlie exited the vehicle one by one. Westerman greeted them with a vigorous handshake and a congratulatory pat on the back. Last of all was Sam. Westerman's face broke into a huge grin but then he saw the state of the big man and was afraid to ask. He looked over Sam's shoulder expecting to see the hero of the moment; the man who would have his admiration and esteem for the rest of his life. But Callen's absence caused him concern. He looked around trying to catch the eye of any of the team. But they hid. They hid from answering him so Westerman addressed the big man himself, "Chief Hanna, where's Agent Callen? He was supposed to be with you."

Sam didn't even acknowledge his superior as he walked past Westerman. He found the furthest seat and started buckling up. "Chief Hanna I spoke to you!" Sam ignored him. Westerman was about to continue his chastising when Hank stood at attention in front of him.

"Sir, Special Agent Callen was late to the rendezvous. He was hit by enemy fire presumed dead and by then it was too late to turn back as we were under attack," finished Hank giving Sam and the others a sideways glance.

Westerman couldn't take his eyes off Sam, "Oh…I see." He was a tough and hardened military man, but the loss of a fellow soldier was never easy. There was no love lost between Westerman and Callen. Callen didn't have to help, he didn't have to risk his life…he just didn't have to. But the fact remained that Callen had, and in the process he had saved Westerman's SEALs, and a partner that had walked away from their friendship. He knew he needed to acknowledge Callen's sacrifice and death, he knew he needed to praise the man for his brilliance, he knew he needed to offer Sam his sympathies but for the first time in a long time, Westerman didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could, he avoided the topic. It was an awkward moment to say the least. Instead he mumbled, "Buckle up, soldiers."

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Back in LA

Standing on the OPS balcony, Eric blew his favourite conch, "Children gather round." He was greeted by annoyed and besmirched looks from Kensi and Deeks who nevertheless darted up the stairs.

"So you have an update?" asked an anxious Kensi. "Did Callen's plan work?"

Hetty took a deep breath, whilst they all held theirs. "Yes Mr. Callen's plan to save Mr. Hanna and his team worked perfectly. His plan also destroyed Raza'a camp and their faction. Hopefully never to rise again. In the meantime, Mr. Hanna and his team have currently landed at Pendleton. I am certain that Mr. Hanna will contact us when he is ready."

Deeks looked around, wondering why no one else had spotted the obvious…news about Callen! "Hetty…it's great Sam is safe but what about Callen? He was supposed to be with them." He looked to Kensi silently asking for confirmation, which he got in the form of an encouraging nod.

Hetty kept her eyes downcast as tears started to pool behind her glasses, "The official line is that Mr. Callen was late to the rendezvous and he was caught in enemy fire, presumed MIA."

"WHAT? Presumed MIA? They left him there? Sam left him there? Left, Callen? They didn't go back and check if he was alive? My god…what happened to never leave a man behind? Hetty? Callen has always been left behind. He has always been on his own without anyone to look out for him. Now…now he died alone, Hetty….ALONE! He didn't deserve that. Can you imagine what went through his mind as he saw them driving away?" said Kensi in absolute shock, trying hard to comprehend the enormity of Hetty's revelation.

Hetty didn't have the answers to Kensi's questions and it pained her so. She wanted to make excuses for Westerman and his team, but she couldn't. None could be made. Hetty looked at Kensi and shook her head, as her breathing hitched. Kensi's anger turned into sadness as she fell into a chair, elbows on knees and head in hands, despair in tow.

Deeks noticed Kensi's grief and it broke his heart. She was right…to die alone amongst the enemy while your friends leave you behind. It made Deeks' blood boil. He turned to Hetty. Deeks didn't want to shoot the messenger but he needed to be heard. "Hetty, the place was destroyed…if Callen was alive then…damn! They signed his death penalty. Sons of bitches!" yelled a distraught Deeks, running his fingers through his shaggy hair whilst pacing to and fro.

"I know…I know. However their actions were protocol, procedure. Technically they followed the rules, but morally…." finished Hetty, steadying herself against the table.

"Do we get to bury him at least? Do we get to say goodbye to our friend?" spat a furious Kensi.

"I doubt it greatly, Miss Blye. A memorial will be held in his honour," said Hetty trying hard to hold it together.

"So there's really no hope," said Kensi begging Hetty to contradict her. She didn't but Nell did.

"It's not without hope," whispered Nell.

"What do you mean?" asked Kensi rather abruptly making Nell flinch and attracting the intense curiosity of Deeks and Hetty.

"I ran a thermal scan over the area and there were signs of life…there is hope and Callen being Callen, one never knows," explained Nell quietly, trying very hard to mask her own pain.

"Hetty?" Kensi turned towards her mentor, glassy eyed and agitated beyond belief. "We need to go in…we need to make sure or at least have friends bring him home."

"I'm sorry Miss Blye but we cannot. Remember Mr. Callen was never in Pakistan and we have no recourse being there. This was covert. This was black ops. These ops DON'T exist," explained a weary and frustrated Hetty. Then she added, quite compassionately, "and if you were to go, how far do you and Mr. Deeks think you'd get? A woman in a Muslim country and a Californian surfer. Neither of you speak Pashto, or Urdu of any of the local dialects and neither of you have contacts in the area. Mr. Callen knew the risk he was taking. He knew his trip might have been one way. We need to respect that and honour him." Hetty was shaking and she needed to get away. "Mr. Beale will inform you when Sam is ready to talk to us." She didn't wait for rebuttals or additional comments. She stood and took her leave. Hetty needed a drink, or two and then she needed to grieve alone, with her memories.

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Kensi and Deeks still couldn't come to terms with the surprising turn of events. Nell was on the brink of an emotional breakdown and Eric was too shocked to know what to feel. Being relatively knew to the team, gave Deeks license to ask questions that everyone knew the answers to but were afraid to ask. "So has Callen ever come back from the dead?"

Kensi turned to face him, shocked at his question, "Really? Have you ever heard of tact?" Her voice started to hiccup as the rare Kensi tears started to form and roll down her perfect cheekbones. "There have been a few times…but nothing like this Deeks…nothing. We just need to accept the fact that he's gone."

"No…damn it…NO! Not until we have a body. Look I know I am new to all this spy covert thing…but I am certain that Callen is alive somewhere waiting for his team to come and get him. I will not believe he is dead and neither should you…all of you. We owe him that much. He's saved our behinds more than I'd like to remember," preached Deeks so animatedly.

"You know you're right Deeks!" added Eric. "We know Callen. We know what he's like and what he can get through. So he got left behind and maybe he was hurt, but he wouldn't give up. He is too strong and resilient for that."

"That's the spirit Eric," clapped Deeks, grinning from ear to ear.

"But I can't see what we can do from here?" asked Nell wiping the tears from her face and starting to believe in the miracle that is Callen.

Kensi couldn't believe what she was seeing and hearing. She stood angrily, "I can't believe you can't just accept the reality of the situation. He's gone guys."

"You never give in so easily Kens! How many years did you look for the answers behind your father's murder? You didn't give up. Give Callen that same amount of decency and respect," said Deeks moving towards her.

"Yeah, and do you know what that cost me…years of my life and most of my emotional sanity. It's hard enough when you lose someone, but when you allow yourself to hope and then have that hope destroyed…honestly Deeks, it's more than I can take," Kensi got up and stormed out of the OPS centre, leaving Nell, Eric and Deeks sad and demoralized.

"Kensi has issues Deeks, ones that are just too complicated. Add to that, this whole thing is about Callen…well it's a mixture made for disaster. Maybe we should just leave her out of this and let her cope the way she feels right," explained Eric.

"Ok…I didn't mean…" responded Deeks feeling rather abashed.

"Anyway I have an idea," quipped Nell, tapping on her board. "When Callen got Eric and I to do the backstopping, we snooped around his role in the Battle of Wana. It was redacted so thoroughly only the full-stops were left. However we stumbled across a photo of Callen and a man."

"A man? Care to be a little more specific?" asked Deeks trying very hard not to be sarcastic.

"That's all we got. We are now running it through international and local agencies, you name it, it will be scanned. I bet that this mystery man can help us," finished Eric.

"Well you know what…it's better than nada!"

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Wana

The locals had seen the missiles explode and they had smelt the burning of flesh. Raza's compound had been destroyed. A crater lay in its wake. Tears and loud painful mourning filled the air as mothers and sisters, brother and fathers looked and searched in vain for their loved ones who had joined the terrorist group.

Mustafa sat paralysed and conflicted. Callen had been party to this. He knew the cell had to be destroyed, but he had always hoped it would be a peaceful surrender. However naïve that was. He was angry and disappointed.

But he was also anxious. Callen was a dear friend and he had heard nothing from him. He didn't know Callen's endgame and he had a feeling of dread. He had to make sure that Callen wasn't among the dead or wounded. Something was telling him to go to the compound. The feeling kept getting stronger and stronger until he couldn't deny it any longer. His wife moved closer to him, "Mustafa, what is troubling you?"

Mustafa looked up at his gorgeous loving wife, "My friend Aziz…he joined Raza'a group and I'm afraid for his safety."

She ran her hand over his balding head. "You must go, look for him and deliver him to his family, Mustafa. It's the decent thing to do. I know you. You are a good man and Aziz is your friend," said his wife massaging his shoulders.

"I know. It is hard and I'm not that brave…anymore," said Mustafa looking up at his wife.

"You are the bravest person I know. You are scared you will find him no longer with us," she said.

"Yes, but you are right. I must honour my friend. I cannot leave him alone."

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Dawn was breaking and the drive was pitiful. It was hard seeing loved ones carrying the dead and injured back home. Mustafa stopped the car and got out. He stood on a small mound overlooking the crater that once was Raza's compound and the sudden stench of death overtook his senses. He placed a corner of his shemagh cloth over his nose. It was stupid coming he thought. However, his determination to find Callen outweighed his fear, so he continued his journey down to ground zero. Again his senses were overwhelmed and he felt compelled to leave when he stumbled and landed on his knees. He sat rubbing his knees and looking towards the wreckage. He couldn't go on. Callen would have never survived this…nobody could have. Mustafa sat and thought. He made his decision to go home and grieve his friend, not before he turned around to see the cause of his stumble.

At first it wasn't clear, the shadows of the morning contorting the landscape. It resembled a tree branch, but it wasn't. His curiosity piqued. He moved closer, angling his torch to get a better view when suddenly he jumped back in horror. It was a hand. He placed his torch on the ground and scrambled over. He started removing the camouflaging bushes to reveal a man. The man was dirty, bloody and unmoving, yet breathing. Mustafa moved closer still and opened his water bottle and poured it gently over the man's face. He wiped it and it seemed his prayers had been answered…"Callen!" as he sighed a breath of relief.

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