Chapter 18

Fear dripped from each arrested member of the terrorist group as they were ushered into small dingy cells. They were separated from each other and awaited questioning. Some of the junior agents had that under control. Shah and Aadil were Granger's to interrogate. They were left to stew a while longer.

Granger approached Hetty cautiously. "I gather Mr. Callen has been released," he scowled at Hetty.

Hetty took a moment to appraise Granger's intentions. "Yes he has, and is taking a moment before Mr. Hanna takes him home, Owen. His report can wait. After all we know everything that transpired between Mr. Callen, Shah Haklemi and Aadil Maram. These are the transcripts," she handed the folder over to the chagrin of Granger.

"Thank you." He took a moment, thinking carefully about his next words, "How is he?" He seemed genuinely troubled.

"Mr. Callen?" asked Hetty surprised by Granger's concern. He nodded sheepishly.

"Exhausted. He needs rest and then I will take him to the hospital. He needs to be checked over," said Hetty trying not to reveal the true nature of the visit.

"In our line of work Hetty we see so many operatives, some struggle with their work, some relish in it and some leave it too early. But rarely are we given the opportunity to work with agents like Callen. He reminds me of the reasons I love this job," said Granger some what embarrassed by the candor he was showing.

Hetty smiled knowingly and touched his forearm, "Yes, you are right Owen. He is remarkable, a true beacon of hope. Good luck with the interrogations and working with Homeland Security." That last comment was made with a wry smile.

"It's dirty work but someone has to do it. Tell Callen I'll see him soon," finished Granger walking away. Hetty nodded pleased that Granger had shared that with her. He did have a heart he just didn't wear it on his sleeve. Now she had to get back to her team and check in on everyone. It had been a harrowing week.

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Callen had collapsed into the safety and comfort of the brown leather lounge that had become one of the team, and that he had made his own. He was exhausted. Every fibre of his body ached. A smile slowly crept onto his face as Sam handed him an ice-cold beer. Callen nodded and started gulping it down. "Whoa man…take it easy!" chuckled Sam watching Callen devour the beer with so much gusto. Callen raised his eyes to meet Sam's smiling. Watching him drink, Sam had time to take in his appearance. Callen had changed. He was a shadow of himself and it pained Sam to see his partner so withered and worn. His protective instinct tried to take over but Sam stopped it for two reasons: firstly, he didn't think he had that right any more; secondly, Callen didn't take too kindly to pity. All Sam wanted to do was to wrap Callen up in cotton wool for a while…just until he became himself again. But he knew that was impossible.

Callen took the bottle from his mouth and burped…loudly, "Well that would have to be the best drink I've had in a long time. Man I missed it." Callen fiddled with the empty beer bottle, "Any chance of another one?"

Sam let out a loud chuckle, "Not until you shower and shave, cause you stink man and do something with that hair…Encino man, and then maybe I'll see what I can do."

Callen cocked his head to the side, "Huh! See you haven't lost that thing you call a sense of humour…What about you drive me home, I shower and shave and you bring a 6 pack and maybe a peperoni pizza with bacon?"

Sam smiled knowing he had lost the argument, "And if I decline, you gonna shoot me again?"

"Nah, I think we're even now." Callen nodded towards Sam's arm, "Does it hurt?" he asked maintaining the light banter.

"I'm just grateful you're a bad shot," he said moving over to his partner and grabbing his arm. Callen swatted Sam's hand away.

"Just be grateful I'm a great shot. Could've aimed for the head or worse…" he said motioning down to Sam's nether regions.

"Yeah right. You can't even stand straight let alone shoot straight. Come on let me help," stated an annoyed Sam, scoffing at Callen's attempt at humour.

"I'm perfectly fine. I don't need a mother Sam. Haven't needed one for a long time…we always seem to have this conversation," Callen pushed himself up uneasily. He strained to remain upright, as his world seemed to tilt viciously. Sam didn't say a word as he watched Callen's pathetic attempt to prove himself. Disregarding Callen's stubborn protestations, he grabbed Callen's arm and steadied him. Callen looked up at the giant and silently acknowledged his help. But Callen couldn't, for the life of him, ask for help. Sam knew that. G never asked. It wasn't in his nature. So Sam always made sure he was there to catch G when he did fall.

The ride home was quiet. Callen had fallen asleep and the deep-set lines had evened out. Callen actually looked peaceful and content; younger than his years. Watching him like this, Sam wondered if he really knew Callen at all, or if he wanted to know what had made his partner the man he was today. Hopefully one day when he and Callen would reach a very old age, Callen might share his past but until then, Sam was happy. Callen was alive and breathing next to him.

Sam pulled the car up to the kerb and left Callen in the car while he checked out his house. All clear. He opened Callen's door, "G man, come on we're home."

Callen stirred, "Mmmm… câteva minute mai mult." (few more minutes - Romanian)

Sam smiled holding back his laughter, "G…come on out…enough with the, what is it now Russian?" He tried pulling him out, but G was stubborn.

"G!" yelled Sam becoming somewhat annoyed.

"سام آمنة الآن استطيع النوم (Sam's safe now let me sleep – Arabic)," murmured Callen squirming in his seat. Sam stopped. Arabic he understood…Sam's safe. He stopped for a moment taking in Callen's sheer compulsion over Sam's safety. It made Sam realize how selfish he had been leaving in the first place. He had everything he needed; a great job, a family, team-mates he regarded as brothers, a home and finally he had G. There was no way he could ever describe their relationship. He had tested it and almost lost it.

Without another thought, Sam gently grabbed Callen who now was sound asleep and hoisted him up into a fireman's hold. Sam carried him inside and gently placed him on his bed. He didn't bother to undress him, he didn't bother to do anything except cover Callen's cold fragile body and let him sleep. Content that Callen was safe he quietly moved the lounge chair into Callen's room and sat. He couldn't let Callen out of his sight, not tonight, not ever if he could help it.

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Sam woke with a start and briefly wondered where he was. He looked around and it all came rushing back to him. He untangled his limbs that were numb from the night's slumber confined in Callen's retro lounge chair. He sat upright and ran his hands over his face…he so needed a shower. His eyes finally focused and he instinctively looked towards the bed. Callen wasn't there. A feeling of immediate panic overcame Sam. He frantically looked around when suddenly he stopped…a waft of brewing coffee danced around his nose. He smiled. He took in a deep breath…he's here thought Sam. He trudged into the kitchen and saw a showered and shaved Callen sitting on a stool drinking his coffee. He had also found time to clipper his unruly mop. He looked up smirking at his partner, "Look what the cat dragged in?"

Sam flashed him a sarcastic smile and grabbed the nearest mug, poured himself some coffee and sat opposite a smug Callen. "You slept well I take it?" asked Sam.

"No…when do I ever sleep well but I did sleep for a few hours. You?" asked Callen still smiling.

"Wipe that smirk off your face. That would have to be the most uncomfortable chair ever made. I slept too but not well." Sam smiled and Callen managed a chuckle. "Seriously though man, how you feeling?" Sam's face darkened.

Callen stared at Sam hard and wondered why on earth Sam would go there now. He had managed to push all the bad stuff away and just wanted to relax and reconnect with Sam. "I'm good," Callen finally said curtly. He took one big gulp of coffee and stood turning towards the sink when he heard Sam exhale loudly.

"I…sorry G…sit down…I didn't…" Sam was lost for words. He had pushed too far but he was feeling the groove back…he thought he and Callen were good.

Callen put his cup in the sink and placed his hands on the bench, back to Sam. Sam could see Callen's shoulder blades jutting out from his back and his jeans barely resting on his hips. He shouldn't have said anything but he didn't want to pretend anymore. He wanted to show Callen he was here for him. Callen turned around and sat back down. His face furrowed. His eyes were still sunken and his skin still pale but the Callen fire was there. "I'm ok Sam…really. I just need some time to get it together. But I'm good," said Callen looking at Sam almost apologetically.

"I messed up G," confessed Sam.

"Sam it's water under the bridge and far as I'm concerned we're good…we're good," Callen said clearly and passionately. He could see the pain in the big man's face and he had to nip this in the bud. Callen had to stop this angst and blame game. But he couldn't open his heart, not just yet. He couldn't share his pain; there was just so much of it he wouldn't know where to begin and now despite the recent distance, he couldn't let Sam down. So Callen did what he did best, bury his pain for the sake of others. He could deal with it, Sam couldn't. If he had a bad day, it was fine. He didn't have a family relying on him; Sam did. He was doing this for Sam because Sam was the closest thing he had to a brother…but it seemed he was doing it for himself as well.

"Ok…ok." The moment became slightly uncomfortable. "So what are your plans today? You need a ride somewhere?" asked Sam, swirling the remaining dregs of the coffee.

"No, Hetty's coming over shortly. We have some things to talk about the case and some loose ends to tie up. I'm good Sam." He was sincere as he looked at Sam. His eyes were kind and friendly. They were G's eyes. "You on the other hand, need to freshen up and go catch up with Raina and the kids. Tell them I said hi."

"Yeah…kids have got soccer today. I missed that. Ok…don't do anything stupid until Hetty gets here," warned Sam smiling.

"Stupid never…reckless, rash, careless maybe but not today. I've had my share of excitement for a while. I'll be ok…GO!" finished Callen.

Sam placed down his mug and nodded waving to Callen as he left his friend still sitting on the kitchen stool. As soon as Sam left, Callen relaxed and his body slumped from the exhaustion. That performance for Sam had taken a lot out of him. The coffee didn't seem to be having any effect. He felt drowsy so he decided to go back to bed. He knew Hetty would be picking him up soon to take him back to the hospital for a check up and some more tests, but for the moment all Callen wanted to do was sleep.

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Sam slid into his car when his phone rang. He looked at the ID.

"Hetty, what's up?"

"Morning Mr. Hanna. How is Mr. Callen this morning?" asked Hetty.

"Ok…he just looks tired but I'm worried," said Sam honestly.

"Don't be. I'm on my way. We'll sort this out Mr. Hanna. You just go home rest," she paused, "and thank you Mr. Hanna."

"No need. Bye Hetty."

Hetty had ended the call and was just about to leave OPS when Kensi came running down the stairs, "Hetty!" Her voice was loud and it was urgent. Hetty stopped and turned facing Kensi.

"Miss Blye what's all the commotion?" asked Hetty taken aback.

"There was a terrorist attack at the Naval base at Jacksonville. Good news is they stuffed up and they were caught. The 6 men involved are in custody and one is singing. Guess whose name came up?" asked Kensi goadingly.

"Brenko," confirmed Hetty smiling. Kensi nodded. "We need to bring this SOB in. Miss Blye I have something I need to do first. Call Director Vance and inform him of the links we have made. We need a trap for this foul beast. This is something we can't do on our own. Tell I will call him soon."

"Ok. But can't your 'thing' wait. This is important," questioning Kensi tentatively…after all no one questions Hetty.

"This thing is Mr. Callen and no, he can't wait. Now please follow my orders Miss Blye," said Hetty a bit too harshly.

Kensi was hurt but understandably. "Sure, right away…and sorry." Kensi turned on her heels and headed upstairs.

Hetty looked up at her gifted agent. She had been too harsh. She was tired and this latest development would mean no rest and no reprieve. Callen needed her now and that's all that mattered. The drive to Callen's house had not been taxing; the traffic was basically non-existent but her anxiety wasn't. She carefully maneuvered around the broken cobblestones of Callen's pathway, murmuring profanities under her breath until she reached the doorbell. Her aged finger rang the bell. There was no answer. She waited and her heartbeat increased. She rang again. She waited and shifted her weight from side to side. Yet no answer. Third time lucky she thought. Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Hetty took out her spare key and turned it carefully. She stepped into Callen's house, "Mr. Callen." Her anxiety rose. She was certain that Sam had said Callen was fine. She continued her exploration of the house, "Mr. Callen." Then she headed for his bedroom. He hadn't even made it to his bed. He was sprawled face down on the floor next to his bed. That's how she found him. She moved faster than she thought she could and her fingers went hunting for a pulse, it was there, slow and weak. She took out her phone and dialed 911.

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Oops a cliffhanger….