Tag to Reign Fall. Nell and Eric talk about Sam's parenting style, and Nell says too much, again.
Here's an explanatory note for readers outside the U.S.: The US Military Academy, at West Point, is the traditional training school for commissioned officers in the Army, while the Naval Academy, in Annapolis, trains most of the officers in the Navy and Marine Corps. A Senior Chief Petty Officer is non-commissioned, so Sam did not go to Annapolis.
Standard disclaimers apply: NCIS: LA and all its characters are property of Shane Brennan and CBS.
The team gathered at the Hannas' house for a Christmas celebration, and to celebrate Aiden Hanna's success as a junior at Simi Valley Military Institute.
About ten, the guest of honor followed his father into the kitchen. Squaring his shoulders, he asked, "May I have a word, Senior Chief?"
"Please, Aiden, that's Dad."
"Sorry, Sir." Sam narrowed his eyes, so Aiden corrected. "Dad. This takes some getting used to." He paused a second and looked over his shoulder. "Permission to speak freely?" Sam gave his son another look. "Right, but this is more delicate than usual."
"Go on," Sam prompted.
"Well, I couldn't help but overhear that Mr. Beale is serving as Ms. Jones' designated driver."
"Right. The designated driver system is the proper way to handle social drinking."
"Correct, Sir! … Umm… right, Dad, but at the Institute, we're told that a male should never be designated driver for a female, unless they're married." He paused and collected his thoughts "We were trained for when we turn twenty-one and allowed to drink."
Sam interrupted him. "Relax, Aiden, Thank you. Thank you for your concern and your tact in addressing this, but this case is, in my judgment, different." Aiden looked at him skeptically, but he continued. "First, Nell…Ms. Jones… is only having one drink. Second, all of the team knows Mr. Beale to be of fine character, old enough to know not to try anything. And third, Ms. Jones is the one with the hand-to-hand training. So, all in all, I would never think she'd be at risk."
"Alright. Thanks, Dad."
Sam reached out his hand for a shake, but as soon as Aiden took it, Sam pulled him into a bear hug. "Thank you, Aiden. Talking about alcohol, talking about sexual assault, can be difficult, but I'm glad you raised the concern."
About an hour later, the party wound down, and Nell and Eric waved their farewells as they climbed into his car. A few blocks down the road, Eric broke the silence. "I still can't figure it out, though."
"Can't figure what out?" Nell probed.
"Sam's parenting style."
"Whaddya mean?"
Eric explained, "Well, he's got Aiden away at some Military Institute, while he dressed up Disney for Kamran's birthday."
"And?"
"It just doesn't seem consistent, fair even. Kamran can be a girly-girl while Aiden's rigidly uniformed. Does that seem right? Doesn't it just play into the stereotypes?"
Nell finally caught on. "I see what you're saying. He's playing dress-up with the girl, but rushing to regiment the boy into a man's world."
"That's it. What does it say about their aspirations, their plans for the kids?"
"You think they'll send Kamran to that school? Or will it be a convent or a finishing school?"
"I wouldn't go that far. Besides, all the finishing schools have gone out of business." Eric drove for a while in silence, but then returned to the subject. "The thing that confuses me is there's a limit to this line of thinking. I think we've got a fair point, but it's not like he was Aladdin to her Jasmine, or something."
"Eww, that's just creepy, Beale. Jasmine runs off with Aladdin."
"My point is, they were monsters, not princesses."
"Besides, Eric, it looks like Kamran can hold her own in that family. I saw her give Aiden the evil eye once…. Stopped him dead in his tracks."
"What? Like Hetty's gorgon stare?"
"It's a start, but the gorgon stare takes years of practice." Nell agreed.
"Well, you should know," Eric said as he stopped at a light. He looked over with a rakish smirk for Nell, but once he caught sight of her, he froze as he withered under her shadow-accented glare.
Finally, Nell relented and broke out laughing. When Eric realized he'd been played, he joined in the laugh.
After a pause, Eric continued, "But then I saw her give Aiden a different look, too. It said, pretty clearly, that she knew something Aiden wished she didn't."
"Ahh, the subtle art of sibling blackmail."
"You sound like a practitioner, Nell."
"I might have used it, say once or twice, on my big brother."
"The one who's, what, five years older than you, and looks like he can bench-press a rhinoceros?"
"At the time, it would have only been a moose, but yes. It gave me an early lesson that knowledge is power. Again, only once or twice, that is." Nell laughed.
"So do you think what Kamran knows is that bad? Something Sam should be worried about?"
"If it's what I think it is," Nell mused, "I don't think it's as bad as the kids think it is."
"Oh?" Eric took his hand off the wheel to add prompting gestures.
"This is all hush-hush, by the way. Don't let it get to Sam."
"My lips are sealed." Eric gave the universal padlock gesture.
"At the punchbowl, Michele told me she caught wind of a very productive conversation Aiden had with a recruiter from West Point."
"That's bad."
"Michele said she got a courtesy call from the recruiter as soon as it was over. You can imagine the academies want to tread lightly around family-service loyalties."
"I can imagine some of those calls don't go too well."
"I bet that's why the recruiter calls the parent who didn't serve."
"Save the fireworks for after the call: cowardly, but it makes sense." After a few blocks, he continued, "Does it look like Aiden is on track to get in, grades and all?"
"Michele said she'd talked with other parents from Aiden's school. It sounds like he'd make it into Army or Navy."
"Don't forget the Air Force Academy. What with their cyber command, that's what I'd be rooting for."
"Beale, you're with the NCIS," Nell emphasized the "N." "That N stands for Navy."
"Oop! Sorry. I almost sounded disloyal. Don't turn me in, or they'll make me walk the plank!"
"Nah, not the plank. Worst that happens, I figure we'll keel-haul ya a couple a' times."
"Okay, Okay!" Eric huffed in surrender. "I'm cheering for the Naval Academy. Satisfied? Ooo-rah, Semper fi, and all that jazz."
"That's better, Beale."
After another minute of mock-prickly silence, Eric ventured, "So, do you think West Point is where he'd actually go?"
"It's early in the process, still a year before the applications are due, but it sounds like Aiden could get in if that's what he chose."
"He wouldn't."
"Michele said it looks like West Point is a real possibility!" Nell persisted.
"Sam would have a cow. A screaming, purple, BSE-positive cow!"
"First, Beale, your biology's all wrong. Cross-species surrogacy is difficult and rare enough, but it's biologically impossible for a male to be a surrogate." They laughed.
"But actually, my source suggested that Sam would be okay with it. West Point, that is."
Eric teased, "Your source? Still with that air of mystery about you, Ms. Jones."
"Okay, Okay. Michele told me, also at the punchbowl, that Sam's loyalty is to the country, more than the service. But still, she'll make sure Sam is okay with West Point if that's what Aiden decides."
"I don't doubt she can." Eric thought further. "It sounds like we're watching the first stage of Aiden's act of rebellion."
"Going to West Point is an act of rebellion?" Nell scoffed. "We should be so lucky."
Eric's car, slowing for a stop sign, screeched to a halt a clear fifteen feet before the sign.
"What?" Eric flabbergasted.
Recognition brought a blush to her cheek. "I'm sorry. I meant, 'we all should be so lucky.' What did you think I meant?"
"Yup, Sorry, I just really put my foot in my mouth this time."
"Relax, Eric. It's my foot that was in my mouth. Your foot was on the brake."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I'll be working the cricks out of my neck for a week."