Operation Formosa

Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine.

Chapter 16

Casa De Franchis — Two days earlier

Callen led Bronte down to the yacht for one last sail. It was sad to leave, but they missed their boys. He rowed the small boat to the yacht and helped Bronte onboard. "Me lady." He smirked, he loved spending every moment with her.

"Why, thank you, sire." Bronte put on a British accent for the little game they now played while he assisted her onboard their yacht one last time. She gave him a warm smile, he kissed her firmly on the lips and held her close.

"Let's get the sails up." She went to help him but he shook his head, "it's okay, I can do it."

"You're being stubborn, G. I'm pregnant, not an invalid. Move over." She did as she had done everyday for the past two weeks and raised the sails. She revelled in the moment she hitched the sails up and the wind caught in them. There was something about the wind blowing through your hair and onto your face. Salt water splattered up onto the yacht, refreshing their warm bodies from the heat of the sun. They had barely gone a quarter of a mile, when a rumbling sound caught their attention. Callen turned and his face paled.

"What was that?" All colour left Bronte's face when she saw the villa with smoke billowing out. "G?" Fear replaced the peace in her eyes.

"It's not our villa, Bron. But we need to go back, grab our things incase it was meant for us."

"No. We can't."

"We have to." He turned the wheel around, the rudder shifted and the sail moved to the other side of the stern. They swiftly made their way back to the rocky outcrop near their villa.

"I'm coming with you," Bronte gripped his arm as he stepped into the row boat.

"No. You have our baby to think about now, Bron. I won't have you risk both of your lives. I'll be careful, slip in from the rear, no one will see me."

She watched on with anticipation, she felt the bile rise in her throat and leaned over the side and vomited. She hated this feeling, but she knew it was a good sign that the baby was strong and healthy. She hoped so. She couldn't face losing another child to leukaemia like she had Joshua. Nor to violence like she had Carrie. Callen was right, she moved below deck and waited, her eyes scanned the cabin looking for a weapon.

Callen moved like a ghost. He kept to the shadows of the cliffs and checked the perimeter for any dangers before entering the villa. They were already packed for their return flight home, one he knew they wouldn't be making. He grabbed their cells and shut them down, they couldn't afford to be traced, they needed to disappear. He wasn't sure how long before Hetty knew something was wrong, but he trusted his team to come to their rescue when they found out. At least it hadn't been their villa and they had been on the yacht. It unnerved him that this could happen so close to where they were staying. He collected all their rubbish and looked around the villa. The bed was made as if no one had slept in it, he knew it would be a week or so before the owner came to wash the sheets. The villa belonged to an old colleague he'd worked with in the CIA. He trusted him, but now his paranoia kicked in and he trusted no one outside his and Gibbs' team at NCIS. He picked up their bags and headed back down the steps, scanning the area as he quickly fled the scene. He threw their things and the rubbish bag into the boat and rowed around the cliff to a small cove where the yacht rocked steadily on the water. He sighed with relief when he saw Bronte's figure appear on deck. In a fraction of a moment, his heart thumped heavily inside his chest that something had happened to her.

"Pass it up, G." She leaned over and grabbed the rope, tying it up securely. He passed their bags up and threw the rubbish bag onto the deck.

"I've left it as we found it, no one will know we were ever there." He held her for a moment, taking in her scent of salt water and her shampoo. She was safe, they all were. He placed his hand on her belly, "let's go far away from this place."

"Where should we go?" She hoisted the sails up and he directed the boat in the direction he'd already determined.

"We'll go to your Père. We can find shelter and find a way to get word that we're okay." It made perfect sense to Bronte, she gave him an encouraging smile. "We can sail in close to Sardinia and Corsica before we cross to St Tropez. If we need to stop somewhere for food or shelter, it should be safe there."

"Sounds like you've thought a great deal about this already." She shouldn't have been surprised by his on the fly planning, it was one of his many talents she'd witness in OSP over the past year.

"I have. It makes perfect sense. We don't know who is after us or if they were even after us. But we can't afford to take that risk. Not in our line of work."

Her hand subconsciously moved to her stomach, for the first time she felt a slight bump there. It made her pregnancy real, she was further along than she'd realised. She rubbed it tenderly, hoping that the stress of the explosion didn't harm their baby.

The sails billowed in the wind, the wind calmed them both down as they headed north. They had a little food on board, but not a great deal. They would need to anchor beside one of the islands before nightfall and stay there the night. They weren't equipped to sail at night. She had no idea how long it would take them to do the journey. Her heart yearned for their children, she hoped that they would be okay until they made it home. Uncertainty returned for their future, when would their life be normal?

Cagliari, Sardinia

The open sea had been rough on Bronte. She'd puked too often, her colour had turned grey and Callen worried about her. Anything she'd eaten or drunk hadn't stayed down for long. Bronte looked ill. He pulled into the harbour in Cagliari, he'd pushed the yacht hard to get there as soon as possible. Bronte needed medical attention.

He carried her off the yacht, people at the marina looked at them with concern. A young man stepped forward and asked if he could help. Thankfully he spoke Italian and he could understand him.

"Sì. Graze." He followed the man to his truck, he climbed into the rear and held Bronte in his arms. "Ospedale." (hospital)

""Certamente." (of course) The man drove quickly to the local hospital and pulled up out front. He helped Callen lift Bronte off the truck and watched Callen carry her inside.

"Mia moglie è malata. Ha bisogno di aiuto, per favore." (My wife is sick. She needs help, please).

A nurse moved to assist him, she brought a wheelchair for Bronte. "How long has she been like this?" The nurse surprised him by speaking English, but neither Callen or Bronte looked Italian, her guess had been right.

"The past hour. We were sailing, she became sick and she's become dehydrated."

"Does she usually suffer this bad from sea sickness."

"No. We've just discovered this morning she's pregnant."

At the mention of Bronte's pregnancy, the nurse moved Bronte into a cubicle and attached a drip to her. "I'll do my best to find a doctor soon."

"Grazie."

Callen sat with her, holding her hand as she fell asleep on the bed. He was surprised when a doctor arrived within minutes of the nurse leaving.

"Hello, Mr Smith. My name is Dr Bonato. What can you tell me about your wife."

"We've been sailing for the past two weeks on short trips. She's been sick only the once and she's recovered quickly afterwards. But today she's been so ill, I've never seen her like this before."

"You told the nurse she doesn't suffer sea sickness, but she's been sick for the past two weeks?"

"Yes. We're newly married, I just took it for seasickness. But she only told me this morning she never suffered from it before. That's when I realised she was pregnant. I bought her a test and it came up positive."

The doctor nodded. "She's badly dehydrated. How much fluid has she had today?"

"Three bottles of water. Then we ran out."

The doctor studied him for a moment, "you look dehydrated yourself. I'll have the nurse bring you some hydralytes." He looked back to Bronte as she slept. "I'll organise an ultrasound for the morning so we can assess how your baby is going. She can't afford to get like this in her condition."

"I know, that's why I pushed our yacht to get here fast."

"Where have you come from?" He looked over at him worriedly.

"We've been sailing around the Mediterranean, but we were too far from land, here was the closest when she fell ill." Callen didn't want to give the doctor specifics, no one could know they were holidaying in Sicily, their lives depended on it.

Thankfully the doctor accepted his story. "You're not the first to stop here for medical assistance, Mr Smith. Both of you need to rest here for the night. I'll come by in the morning before I end my shift."

He was satisfied the woman would be fine now she was on a drip and resting. The husband was worried about her, especially now he knew she was with child. It always amused him when the husband became protective of their wives when they find out they're pregnant for the first time. They lose the worry when it comes to the second and so on, when they realise they're not fragile. But how ill the wife had become on the yacht did worry him. He would wait and see what the ultrasound showed up in the morning and when the blood works came back.

The next day

Bronte's eyes opened and she squinted at the light. The sun shone through the window, surprising her. She looked around, Callen laid asleep in the chair beside her. She realised she was in a hospital somewhere. But where? The last she remembered was being on the yacht. Then she remembered the explosion back on Sicily.

Callen shifted in the chair and felt eyes on him. He opened his eyes and saw Bronte awake. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Where are we?"

"Sardinia, in Cagliari. You were so ill and dehydrated. Someone helped me get you here."

She lifted her hand and looked at the drip. "Is the baby okay?" Worry for her child she'd only found out about the day before grew within her.

"The doctor is arranging for an ultrasound, we can see him or her today." He gave her a warm smile, he saw the worry in her eyes and he wanted to reassure her that everything would be fine.

"Good morning, Mr and Mrs Smith." Dr Bonato entered her room. He had her moved to a private room so she could rest in peace.

"How are you feeling today, Mia?" He looked to Bronte and noted her colour had returned.

"Better, thank you."

"Good. You gave us all a scare last night." He looked at his watch, "I have arranged for an ultrasound for you in an hour. Breakfast should be here soon. I expect you to eat all of it." He turned to Callen, "I've ordered a meal for you as well. You must be hungry after yesterday."

"I am, thank you."

"Good. The nurse will help you into a wheelchair to take you upstairs in fifty minutes. My shift ends soon, Dr Lanza will be taking over looking after you. She's a good doctor and a kind woman. You will feel comfortable with her."

"Thank you, Dr Bonato."

He nodded and exited the room in search for a nurse to arrange the transportation of Mrs Smith to ultrasound. He needed to finish his rounds before his shift ended. It had been a long night and he was looking forward to going home to his wife and kids.

Radiology - an hour later

They were nervous when Bronte was wheeled into radiology. Seeing their baby would make it more real for them both. A first time experience for Callen, he missed this with Kristen because he had to vanish after his operation was complete. He'd never envisage he'd have a son out of it. But before Bronte entered his life, his short time with Kristen had been the most happy time for him, a piece of normal. Except he wasn't himself. He closed his eyes and thought of his son, Michael was just like him. He remembered Sam's words about another clone of him and Michael would be a good thing in the world. And he held onto that thought when the sonographer squirted gel onto the probe and moved it onto Bronte's stomach. He smiled over to her and held her hand as an image came up on the screen. He tried to make sense of what he saw, he knitted his brows in concentration.

"Beh, questa è una sorpresa."

"What is he saying?" Bronte looked to Callen for translation.

Callen's eyes widened at the sonographer's comment. "Well this is a surprise."

Bronte shifted her head for a better look, "what's wrong?"

The sonographer saw the concern in Bronte's eyes.

"Non c'è nulla di cui preoccuparsi."

"He said there's nothing to worry about."

"But he said…"

"Qual è la sorpresa?" (What is the surprise) Callen inquired of the sonographer, he didn't like worrying Bronte for nothing.

The sonographer turned and smiled. "Complimenti. Si hanno due gemelli."

"What is he saying?"

"He says," Callen's eyes widened at what the songrapher told him. "We're having twins." His lips widened into a broad grin.

"We're what?"

"Twins, my love." His heart swelled inside his chest. He leaned over and gave Bronte a kiss on the lips.

"Twins?"

"Sì." The sonographer showed them the two foetuses inside the womb and smiled warmly at her.

Bronte shook her head in disbelief. Shock spread over her features, but a smile formed gently on her lips. Twins. Excitement bubbled.

"So everything looks fine?"

"Sì. Tutto sembra buono per entrambi i vostri bambini . Sembrano essere di circa dieci settimane lungo."

Bronte looked to Callen for help in translation once more. She couldn't wait until they reached St Tropez where she understood the language.

"Everything is fine with both of our babies. He thinks you are ten weeks along."

"Ten weeks?"

Callen nodded. He smiled, he couldn't be happier. For that moment, the worry from Sicily had been forgotten. This was their moment meeting their babies for the first time. But later, the worry would return. He had even more to worry about. Not one baby, but two. A determination entered his heart to make sure Bronte took extra care of herself and that no one would hurt her or their babies. Ever.