Tsunami

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

Chapter 14

Harrison Clark Law Firm

Scott Harrison was a narcissist and he treated people around him as if they were there solely for him. If they weren't as fortunate as himself in status, he treated them in like manner, not caring how they they felt. Harrison was one of the bosses of the company, the other, Leo Clark, Marty Deeks had yet to meet. Deeks had only been at the firm a few days before Lance dragged him off to Prague, so he was still gaining his bearings on the people at the law firm. But he'd heard rumours about Scott Harrison and with Hetty's warning to be careful, his gut clenched tight as he fisted his hand ready to knock on his door.

"Come in."

Deeks entered Scott Harrison's office with a relaxed composure, although he felt anything but relaxed. Caution was on high alert and he knew that this meeting could go either way. Fortunately, he had a team of NCIS agents on standby, just in case.

"Jason." Scott Harrison stayed in his chair, he continued to type away on his computer for a few more minutes before he turned his attention to his newest employee. Jason Hill had checked out. A shady lawyer with dealings with others who had dabbled in human trafficking. It was just what he needed right now, with Lance in the wind. He'd had the feds making their way into his firm and associate businesses on the west coast and he needed someone new to help him fix the problem. He was ready for his next shipment of women, they were arriving on a ship into Boston in a matter of days. He needed his drivers to move them across the country without a trace, like they had with the weapons. Harrison clenched his jaw at the annoyance of the bust up in Prague. After Lance had called through to say they were on their way back, Sacha Pajari had slipped up. He'd allowed his own personal demons get in the way of the big scheme of things. They'd not only lost Arkady Kolcheck's daughter, Anna, but his Russian group had disbanded and they'd lost the weapons —- their source of income to pay for their cause in the mother country. Harrison looked up and studied Jason Hill. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and slim, he was the perfect candidate for his next venture.

"So Jason, got anyone you care about in your life?"

Deeks knew where this was heading, and he'd gone over with Hetty before to play close to his old alias as possible. The old Jason was a loner, no parents or siblings around. No woman he cared about either, because, like Max Gentry, he was a womaniser. He had to be to work in human trafficking.

"No."

Harrison nodded. "Good." He scanned his eyes back over to his computer for a brief moment. "I have a job for you. It will involve you heading back overseas. Cuba this time. I have an employee I need checking up on over there."

Deeks narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. He knew that Franklin Worthington's alias mentioned about a meeting in Cuba before he went to Prague. He knew Franklin hadn't gone to Cuba, but followed them to Prague. Deeks nodded. "Not a problem. Have Lois send me the details." Deeks stood to leave, but Scott Harrison stopped him.

"Another thing. Lance. I haven't heard from him since you left Prague. When was the last you saw him?"

"When we disembarked the plane. He mentioned about meeting up with someone and he'd be in contact, but he never called. He's been missing since our return?"

"Yes. We've had feds snooping, watch your step. We've got rid of one or two."

"I will." Deeks almost made it to the door, when Harrison spoke again.

"Lance told me you bought a beauty in Prague. A real fighter. How's it working out for you?"

A smirk spread across Deeks' visage. "Better than I had expected."

Scott Harrison raised his brow slightly, intrigued. He stood up and walked over to him. "I have to admit, Jason, I had to do my own background check on you. You check out. Don't screw up. Drop this beauty by my house on your way to the airport, I'll keep an eye on her for you while you're gone."

It was a test, Deeks knew, but he didn't like it one bit. "Sure." He exited the expansive office with dread. He'd managed to get Kensi out of the grasps of the rogue DOD Major in Prague without a hitch, but now he had no choice but to send her into the lion's den. He fisted his hands inside his pocket as he went down the elevator to the carpark. He climbed into his alias' vehicle, a navy blue Mercedes and headed north.

Dovecote

Callen's mind played tricks on him while he slept. Images of people he knew swept into view, but the places were strange. He knew that the medication he was on for the pain was the cause of his weird dreams. He had tried to resist receiving any more from the nurse when she popped in, but he'd been outnumbered once again and had to obey. His senses had always proved their worth to him over the years and now they were telling him he wasn't alone. He turned his head and opened his eyes. The brightness of the sun shining into the bedroom caught him by surprise. He squinted before his vision became clear.

His father sat in the chair beside his bed, worry etched in his brow for his son. "George." Baxter's voice was barely above a whisper, but Callen heard him.

Callen's eyes fixed on his father's paler blue eyes, faded with age. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat. Guilt washed over him from running like he had back when he was nine. Why had he run? why didn't he give Baxter and Gloria a chance? Then there was the way he'd avoided his father since his wedding day. In a way, if was like history had repeated itself again. He'd run away again. His strength had vanished, he could no longer run. It was probably a good thing that he couldn't run away this time. He needed answers from his father and from Arkady. If only he knew where that sneaky Russian had vanished to with his daughter. Callen took in a ragged breath. He licked his dry lips to speak, but Baxter gently placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Don't strain yourself, son. You've been through a great deal."

Callen wondered if his father was speaking of his time in Prague or his life as a whole. Because the truth was, he'd been through far more in his life than he'd suffered in Prague.

"I've been through worse." Callen tried to appease his father. He was a fighter and although he'd gone through a dark time when life just didn't seem worth fighting for anymore, he'd survived. Now he had far more worth fighting for, Savannah and their children. He was determined to be there beside his wife to watch their children grow and provide them a safe and loving family environment. Growing up without one gave him more determination to ensure his sons had just that.

"I know, that's what concerns me." Baxter travelled his eyes over his son's injuries. Fractured ribs, bruises and grazes, a head wound. But it could have been so much worse. "I hear you played the hero and provided cover for the others."

Callen matched his father's gaze, he'd made sure his partner, brothers and Bradford's SEAL team were safe. "I hear I killed the bastard."

Baxter swallowed hard. Franklin had told him about Sacha Pajari. Baxter remembered another Pajari, a fellow KGB officer named Boris. Memories returned, Boris had betrayed him and Arkady, placing his family in danger. He had no other choice but to kill him, it was Boris or his family. A tear fell from his face, memories of his first wife's smile returned for a brief moment. Clara Callen was beautiful with a smile that could melt the hardest of men. It was Boris who had burned Clara to the Comescus, he knew that for certain, because it was only a matter of two weeks after he'd killed Boris, when news had come to him about Clara's murder.

"So they tell me."

Callen saw the pain in his father's eyes and tried to give him a smile.

Tears spilled onto the back of Callen's hand, his father quickly wiped them away. "I'm sorry I've caused you more pain, son. What happened to you in Prague, it was all my fault."

Callen licked his lips, they felt unusually dry. "Sacha told me that you killed his father."

Baxter nodded. "Boris Pajari. He worked alongside myself and Arkady in the KGB. But he betrayed us, told the Comescus who your mother really was."

The realisation hit Callen with a force. His eyes widened. "It was him who burned mom to the Comescus?"

"Yes. I am sorry, son. I thought by killing Boris, you, Amelia and your mother would be safe, but I was wrong."

"You cannot blame yourself for what the Comescus did to mom. You had Frank and Brad's teams kill those who remained a threat. You ended their empire." Memories of watching his half brothers enter that beach house in Constanta returned, but mixed in with his own memories when they went in to rescue Hetty. Something shifted inside of him, and he wondered why it had taken so long. Hetty, Sam, the team, his brothers and Father had all proven that they would kill for him. Why was it so hard for him to accept?

"I know, George. But the pain of losing your mother all of those years ago has laid heavily on my heart for a very long time. And then, I almost lost you and Amelia's sons on that plane."

"We got out, Dad. We survived." It wasn't just his father losing his wife that pained Baxter, that much Callen knew. It was also the ripple effect of losing both of his children. One of whom he'd thought had died at age eleven. It had been a great relief to discover that Amy had survived. After reading the letter that Franklin had given him and the information his younger brother had provided about their father, Callen felt better inside his heart. "I'm sorry I ran away. I didn't understand why you were angry…"

"My temper has gotten me into some strife over the years, but losing you.." Baxter choked on a sob, "losing you was the crux of everything. You were the last of my children that I knew was still alive, I couldn't deal with how much living in the system had changed you."

"You can't blame yourself for what happened to me. What that…that…"

Baxter gently squeezed his son's shoulder. "I know that now. But you are my son, if I had proof back then that you were my flesh and blood, it could have been so very different."

Tears escaped Callen's eyes, he had no where to run, to hide from this emotional roller coaster that had taken hold of him. "Why didn't you fight for me?" Franklin had tried to explain, but he still needed to hear it from his father.

Baxter shook his head. No answer could ever justify him allowing that social worker to take him away. "I didn't know how to deal with what had happened to you. I blamed myself for everything that had happened, I got angry at myself, at your previous foster father, the doctor. At everyone." Baxter heaved out a heavy breath. He'd talked about it over the following months at the clinic to help deal with losing his son. "I thought you were better off without me." Baxter broke again. He stood up and looked out the window into the flowered garden Hetty tended to in her spare time.

"I needed you. Why didn't you tell me you were my father?"

Baxter turned, tears streaked down his face. "I'm sorry, son. I know I should have, but I couldn't. You didn't remember me. After four years, you had suffered so much. But the time you came to live with us, it shocked me how badly you'd suffered. I tried, but you were so scared of me. You refused to be alone with me, to allow me to come close to you." He shook his head, annoyed with himself. Anger radiated off him once again. "You wouldn't even say one word to either Gloria or myself. And when your social worker showed up and you spoke to her, it broke me. You had no trouble speaking to her, but to me, nothing."

Callen tried to pull himself up to sit, a wave of dizziness took over him and he swayed.

Baxter moved over quickly to help him back down onto the bed.

"I needed you to fight for me, Dad. I couldn't understand why you didn't fight for me. No one fought for me, until…until Hetty took me home. I was fifteen, on my way to jail."

"I know, son. I know. I failed you." Callen saw the pain and guilt in his father's eyes. "I know I should have fought for you back then, but I didn't know how. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me!"

Callen had no choice but to forgive. If not for his father's sake, his own. It had been buried deep within him for all the years since, with Hetty slowly chipping away at his pain since he was fifteen. His father was there for him now. He'd shown his determination in ensuring Callen knew it too. Callen nodded. He licked his lips again, and looked for some water. His father watched his son's search and found what he was looking for. He lifted the glass of water and inserted a straw inside, placing it near to his son.

"Thanks." Callen rested his head back on the pillow. It was soft and should have soothed the throbbing in his head. "I forgive you, Dad."

Tears spilled down both of their cheeks. Baxter leaned over and wrapped his arms around Callen. It had been so long since he felt at ease to do this with him, to touch him and provide the comfort both of them needed.