Sam shifted nervously, staring at the floor. Hundreds of thoughts swirled through his head at once. How did I get here? How did I not know this would happen? If that's what Eric got for helping me, what am I getting?

Lost in his thoughts, Sam failed to notice Hetty had left the room until he heard her call him from the hallway. He snapped back to the present and noticed that not only was Hetty gone, so was the paddle. Following the direction of her call, Sam found himself standing in the doorway of the interrogation room.

"Well?" Hetty asked, almost impatiently. "Come in."

Sam took two hesitant steps into the room and Hetty pushed the door closed. His head snapped up when he heard the lock click. What was she planning to do to him?!

"Hetty," he began immediately, hoping to talk her out of whatever she was about to do. But she held up her hand, and Sam lost his nerve.

"I told you I had decided to punish you, and I had hoped my unconventional methods last week would have deterred you from further disobedience. However, I see I was unsuccessful," Hetty lectured. "When I tell you not to do something, Mr. Hanna, I have my reasons. And more often than not, those reasons are for your own protection and for the protection of my team."

"But if I hadn't been there, Michelle would have died!" Sam shouted.

Hetty raised an eyebrow, and Sam quickly looked away. "Do you trust me, Sam?" she asked quietly. Sam wrestled with the question for a long time before he finally nodded, still looking at the floor. "Are you sure?" Hetty pressed.

"I'm sure," Sam whispered.

"Yes, Michelle was in danger," Hetty conceded quietly, "but Mr. Callen, Mr. Deeks and Ms. Blye were there, as were several other undercover agents. I would not have sent my team – or your family – in without adequate protection."

"But I was the one…" Sam began.

"Yes, you were," Hetty interrupted. "But if it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. Your bullets were not the only ones recovered from the body." She let the truth of what had happened that day sink in, and watched as Sam struggled to accept it.

"Someone else shot that bastard too?" he asked, finally looking up. Hetty nodded. Sam winced. "I'm sorry, Hetty. I really am."

"What for?" she asked leadingly.

Sam took the bait for what it was and sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you to protect us. I'm sorry I defied you again. I'm sorry I went around you to do what I thought was best. And I'm sorry I hurt you," he added.

"Thank you, Sam. That means a lot," she answered gently, placing her hand on his arm. "Now," she continued sharply after a moment of silence, "there is still the matter of your punishment."

"Do we really have to do this? I really am sorry," Sam protested.

"Of course we do," Hetty answered, sounding slightly amused. "I can't go around making idle threats now, can I? No one will take me seriously, and you'll all start doing whatever, whenever."

"No we won't, I promise!" Sam argued. But Hetty pursed her lips again, and Sam knew the discussion was over. He took a deep breath and let it out forcefully before turning toward the table and bending over.

"Oh no, Mr. Hanna, not like that," Hetty said, picking up the paddle. Sam straightened up and looked at her, confusion creasing his forehead. Hetty glanced at his jeans and gestured with the paddle.

"Are you kidd…" Sam began. But when Hetty cleared her throat, he knew there was no point in finishing his question. He gave her a sideways glare, then unfastened and pushed his jeans down forcefully, hoping to relay to her his displeasure.

"Is that really the attitude you want to take with me right now?" Hetty asked warningly. Sam shot her another look then bent over again.

"All right," Hetty responded, "have it your way."

The paddle landed with such force Sam was sure there was someone else in the room swinging it. "Ow!" he spat out before he could catch himself. The paddle landed again with the same result.

"Hetty, please!" Sam cried. But Hetty stayed silent, concentrating on the task in front of her. Sam had tried to comfort himself with the fact that she would only spank him twenty times, but when number twenty-one landed and she showed no sign of stopping, he buried his face in his arms and tried to hold back the tears.

You're being ridiculous! he thought to himself. You're a grown man. You can handle this. It's just a spanking… He gritted his teeth against the pain.