AN: Hey, guys! How're you liking it so far? So a few things...

1. I have fallen in LOVE with Granger. I just...I won't spoil things for those of you who might not know, but I miss him on the show.

2. There's a few rough scenes ahead, nothing graphic yet, but if you're sensitive you might wanna skip it. Just FYI.

Anyhow, share your love in the comments!

Chapter 3

Chained to the wall, his eye stuck shut with the blood that poured from his forehead, Callen forced himself to stay awake. A few feet away, with only a tarp beneath her as protection from the cement floor, he could make out the form of Nell Jones. Her back was facing him, her hands and legs bound, and she lay curled up in a fetal position as she shivered in the cold night air. He wished someone would come and cover her with a blanket or something. He didn't want to see her get hypothermia or...

Callen's head snapped up from sagging on his chest, and he felt his skull connect with the cinder blocks behind him. Licking dry, cracked lips, he focused on the pain in his head, letting it keep him awake.

There was a noise nearby, a click like a deadbolt unlocking, and it snapped Nell back to full consciousness like the flip of a switch. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looked around wildly. When she saw Callen's form nearby, she tried to move toward him but her bonds made that impossible.

"Nell," he croaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Nell, it's okay."

"They're coming," she told him, her voice small and full of fear.

"I know. But you need to stay calm."

She shook her head, tears glistening in her hazel eyes. "I can't. Can't do it again."

As the five strange men entered the room, Callen caught Nell's gaze with his own.

"Nell, please."

She just started to cry, and his heart broke all over again...

Callen jerked awake, fully expecting to feel the metal of the handcuffs around his wrists, but instead found himself in a bed, unrestrained. In a chair beside the bed, Sam slept with his arms crossed over his chest, but when he heard the sheets rustle he was immediately awake, one eye cracked open.

"G?"

"Bad dream," Callen replied in a whisper. "I'm good."

Sam nodded and closed his eye again. Callen lay back against the pillows and tried to go back to sleep, but it was useless.

After about a dozen sighs and sheet rustles, Sam asked, "Can't sleep?"

"No," Callen huffed. Sam shifted and then sat up, his chocolate eyes staring directly into Callen's. Callen knew that look all too well, and he sighed again. "You want me to talk."

"No," Sam said, "I'd like it if you talked, but it's gotta be your choice."

"If you knew what happened..."

Sam leaned forward and put his hand on Callen's arm. "None of it matters, G. You were tortured, injured. Nothing that happened was your fault."

"But it is," Callen insisted. "I could've stopped it, but I..." He looked away, but not before Sam saw the same guilty look he'd had outside the warehouse.

"G. Look at me, G."

Callen finally obeyed, his blue eyes finding Sam's.

"I won't push you," Sam told him. "This is all in your control. Just know I'm here."

Callen nodded. "Thanks."

They sat in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts. It was daylight outside; Callen estimated that it was around 10 or 11 in the morning, and by the sounds of the traffic down below his window he guessed that it was Friday. Fridays were always busy in LA, even after the morning rush.

"How long was it?" He asked Sam then.

"Four days," Sam answered.

Callen nodded. His count had been slightly off while he and Nell had been held, but only by a day.

"You remember them grabbing you?" He heard Sam ask.

Oh, he remembered, all right.

Staring at the wall over Sam's head, he said, "Yeah. It was after we'd all gone out. When I took Nell home..."

He was pretty sure she was drunk, but she looked like she was having so much fun he let her be, choosing to simply watch her from where he stood on the edge of the dance floor. She and Kensi were dancing together, trying to keep up with each other's moves but failing miserably. Nevertheless, they were laughing and still trying, their bodies loosely moving to the beat. Only when Nell's limbs got tangled with Kensi's and they both fell down did Deeks and Callen set down their beers and go out to de-pretzel the girls.

Callen managed to get Nell to her feet and started to lead her off the floor. Pouting, she looked up at him and said, "What're ya doin'? I was havin' fun."

He smiled. "I know. But I think you should take a little break."

"We almost had it. Did you see us?"

"I did. Here," he said, handing her a bottled water. "Drink some of this."

Staring at the liquid in the bottle as if it was some alien substance, she slowly unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

"It's water," she told him, her voice full of disappointment, and he nodded.

"I know. Keep drinking."

She hopped up onto a bar stool, though it took her three tries, and Callen stood beside her nursing the same beer he'd ordered an hour ago. To be honest he didn't feel much like drinking tonight. He had come along with the others in a bid to stave off boredom and the slim finger of depression he felt pressing on his brain, but he had to admit that hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped.

At least not until he'd started watching Nell.

Her smile and giggle were contagious, lifting his spirit out of the dark gutter it tended to seek out like a wounded animal looked for a den to hide in. It helped that her emerald green top and tight black pants looked amazing on her, as well, and her red hair fell loose and soft around her shoulders, tempting him to run his hand through it.

An arm was thrown around his neck then, and that very same hair pressed against his cheek, warm and smelling like flowers.

"You okay?" She asked, sounding almost sober, and he nodded.

"Yep. How 'bout you?"

"Little dizzy, but okay," she replied with a tiny giggle.

As if to prove it, she hopped down from the stool and tried to walk. Not quite three steps later, her knees buckled and if he hadn't been beside her she would've fallen. As she tipped into his arms, Callen gave a wry smile and said, "Okay. Time to go."

Nell pouted again, and Callen fought the urge to touch his finger to her heart-shaped mouth.

"I don't wanna go yet," she argued, but when she looked up into his serious blue eyes and saw that he wouldn't take no for an answer, she groaned and let him lead her toward the door.

Callen meanwhile had caught Deeks' eye and now the blond detective moved toward them, a good-natured grin on his handsome face.

"Leavin' so soon?" He asked, and Callen nodded.

"Nell's had a little too much. I'm gonna take her home."

Deeks nodded back and gave Callen's hand a quick shake. "See you tomorrow."

"Sure. Tell Kens I said goodbye."

"And me, too!" Nell put in, her arm still draped around Callen's neck the only thing keeping her upright.

Deeks leaned down and gently kissed her cheek. "I will. Night, Nell."

Her eyes blinked slowly as she waved her fingers at him and said, "Night."

Callen led her to his car and put her in the passenger seat, even buckling the seat belt around her slender body. As he came around the hood and slid into his seat, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, sighing softly. He watched her a few moments to be sure she wasn't about to be sick, and when he saw no indication of that he started the car and headed for her apartment. They drove in silence the whole way there, and it wasn't until Callen had parked in front of her building that he realized she'd fallen asleep. Getting out, he went around to her side and opened the door, then gently shook her shoulder.

"Nell?" He called softly. "Nell, we're here."

She moaned, then slowly stirred and opened her eyes. "Huh?" She asked, her eyelids fluttering.

He grinned at the confused look she was giving him. "You're home. Gimme your keys and I'll go open your door."

It took a moment, but finally she understood his request and dug her keys out of her purse. Handing them to him, she said, "It's the one with pink nail polish on it."

He took the keys and went to her door while she stayed in the car, her eyes closed against the dizziness she felt. Finding the right key, he slipped it into the lock and opened the door, then flipped on the hallway light and took a quick look around. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place, so he jogged back out to the car and helped Nell to her feet, slowly walking her up the path to her door.

"You're sweet to do this," she told him with a shy smile.

"It's no trouble," he replied as he guided her inside and shut the door. "Just wanna be sure you're safe."

Her smile grew wider at that. She opened her mouth to reply when a shadow suddenly fell over both of them, and before Callen could turn to find the source he was hit in the head with something heavy. As his vision swam and then went black, he heard Nell scream, and then everything was silent.

Hetty walked into OPS, but Eric's usual seat was empty, his workstation shut off and the screen black. She was about to go find him when she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. Turning, she saw her very pale IT expert shuffling toward her, his skin waxy and a little green.

"Mr. Beale, are you all right?" She asked.

He shook his head slowly, but said nothing.

"You watched the footage," she stated, now sure of the reason behind his sickly state.

He nodded. "It's..." Blue eyes regarded her from behind plastic-framed glasses. "I can't even..."

"Were you able to glean any information from the video itself?

Another nod, and a heaving breath to calm his stomach. "They speak a dialect of Russian. Probably Siberian, though a lot of it's muddled with common Russian so it's hard to understand."

"What about the file? Who it was meant for? And why were Callen and Miss Jones chosen?"

"The sender's IP address was spoofed, so until I do a little more, uh, work...we won't know much. I'd love to get right on that, but..."

He coughed, trying not to throw up in front of her, and she nodded sympathetically.

"Go on and rest a while, Eric," she said. "It will still be here tomorrow."

"Unfortunately," he muttered, then held up a hand in thanks and rabbited off, probably to the restroom again.

Hetty stood alone in the dimly lit room, so deep in thought that she failed to hear Owen Granger enter behind her until he had called her name.

"Bugger it all!" She hissed as she spun to face him. Granger was the one surprised now. Never before had he been able to sneak up on Hetty. Something had to be terribly, horribly wrong.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Perhaps you could help me, Owen," she said, pulling out Eric's chair. "I need to bring up a file Mr. Beale was looking at earlier."

Granger seemed skeptical, but sat down anyway. He started up the computer and turned on the screen, and when everything was booted up he went into the folder marked "Recent Downloads". Nodding, he said, "There's a video file downloaded today. That the one you want?"

"Yes, thank you," Hetty replied. Once he had highlighted it with the mouse, she said, "You may leave now."

Granger paused, then swiveled to look up at her. "Are you going to let me in on this?"

"Perhaps one day, Owen. But this material is both sensitive and graphic in nature..."

"You should know that I'm already aware of Agent Callen and Miss Jones' capture," he told her. "I don't know all the specifics, of course, but I'm guessing that's what this is about." Gone was his usual business-like tone, and in its place was a gentleness that she had to admit surprised her. She never imagined that the man seated before her had such a capacity for empathy, and before she realized what she was doing she pulled a chair alongside his.

"Very well," she said. "Please play the video."

At least, she reasoned silently, I won't have to suffer alone...

The screen jumped to life, the image blurry and dark. Both issues were corrected fairly quickly, and what was once just blobs of green and blue became Nell Jones, lying atop a tarp placed on the ground. Not far away, a pair of jean-clad legs could be seen, ending in a set of black workboots.

Callen's workboots.

The camera shook as if whoever was holding it was fiddling with the controls, and then the image zoomed out and panned slightly to the left, so that Callen's full frame could be seen as well. Footsteps could be heard, and another man entered the picture, his face holding a self-satisfied grin as he took in the sight before him. He stepped over Nell's legs, which she instinctively pulled closer to the rest of her body, and sidled up to where Callen stood with his arms bound by a chain over his head.

In contrast to the stranger's smile, Callen scowled darkly - not back at the man but at the camera - his fists clenched so tightly his hands turned white. "Let her go," he ground out. "She has nothing to do with this. It's me you want."

The man beside him laughed. "Why would you think that?" He asked in heavily accented English.

Callen looked at Nell and then up at the man. "She's not...I don't know what this is about, but..."

The stranger chuckled again and pushed himself away from the wall with his elbow. "She is part of this, like you."

"No. Look..."

"No, you look," the dark haired man interrupted. "You do what we ask, maybe you both leave alive. If not..." he shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished and yet perfectly clear in meaning.

Callen glared at him. "We're federal agents. You kill us and our friends will track you down." He looked around the room and added, "All of you."

A chorus of laughter filled the room.

"I think not," their captor replied. "Now, will you help, or must we...convince you?"

Callen glanced down at Nell, who remained silent but regarded him with fearful eyes. He seemed to be weighing his options for a moment, but then his jaw clenched and he said, "Go to hell."

The man's grin faded from his lips, and he nodded at someone to Callen's left.

"Very well," he sneered. "We will go hard way." He turned to Nell then, and said, "Boyfriend is...stubborn, eh?"

She watched as another man - the one their kidnapper had nodded to, no doubt - came closer, and her eyes widened as he lifted his arm and leveled a gun at Callen's body. "No," she murmured, panic obvious in the way she tried to scramble to her feet despite the zipties binding her. "Please, don't."

"Nell," Callen used his warning voice, though it seemed a tad more gentle than usual. "Stay cool."

The shot was loud, and yet it was barely audible above Nell's scream of horror and Callen's shout of pain. Blood poured from the wound in his leg, soaking through the denim, and as he gasped in three or four breaths to try and control the searing pain he still managed to stare daggers at their captors.

Laughter could be heard once more, louder this time, and then the scene faded to black.

Granger pressed the Pause button and looked at Hetty. "Exactly how long is this video?"

"Why?" She asked. "Are you bored already?"

He shook his head. "Just wondering whether I should cancel my dinner plans with Director Vance."

"I had no idea he was in town."

"Neither did I, until a few hours ago."

"Oh, well. If Mr. Beale's reaction after viewing this is anything to go by, that might be a wise idea, regardless."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to ascertain her level of humor, but when her face remained static he breathed out a sigh, pulled out his cell phone and sent off a quick text.

"You sure you want to continue with this?" He asked, and she nodded at once.

"I need to know, Owen. These people...I wish you would have seen the look in Mr. Callen's eyes at the hospital. It was..."

She shivered, and Granger only nodded in reply.

Wordlessly, he pushed PLAY again.

The sound returned first, but there was so much noise that it was hard to understand just what was happening without a picture. There were voices, or at least they seemed to be, though no particular words could be distinguished, and a sound like slow clapping, but that couldn't be right. Then, finally, Callen's voice could be heard screaming curse words, and then the picture suddenly returned and everything made sense.

The camera was focused on the floor, where Nell was curled up in a ball on her side, her hands covering her face. Above her stood the leader, landing heavy blows on every part of her body. With each hit Nell cried out, and with each cry the man only hit her harder. Barely visible at the edge of the screen, Callen strained at his shackles, his face beet red and slashed by a deep frown as he shouted orders at him to stop, at the rest of the men to stop him, but of course no one listened.

Eventually, one of the other men tired of hearing him, and hit him in the head hard enough to knock him unconscious. His head lolled forward onto his chest and his legs went limp, the chain now the only thing supporting his body.

The man hitting Nell finally stopped as well, and shot an amused glance at Callen's slack form. He clucked his tongue, and slowly Nell unfolded herself to see what had happened. When she saw her friend and leader hanging there, unconscious, she instantly began to vibrate with fear, and for good reason. Backing away, the leader motioned for someone to come forward. A tall man with a ponytail moved into frame, his hands already unbuckling his pants...

After another ten minutes of what Hetty could only define as pure horror for Nell - and eventually Callen as well as he soon came to - she hoarsely whispered, "Stop, Owen. I've seen enough."

Relieved, Granger clicked the STOP button and then turned off the monitor, though it made no real difference. The images were already burned into their brains, the sounds tattooed in their ears. She spun away from him, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were trying to physically hold herself together.

Owen stood silently and waited, intent on staying until she kicked him out. Physically, if need be.

"Oh, Owen," Hetty's gravel voice stumbled over his name, and he realized she was crying. "Those two...God..."

"Whatever you need, you have it," he said, anger edging his voice. How dare anyone hurt his people like that, and how dare they make Hetty - superspy, ninja and all-around badass - cry! "You could string the last suspect up on the Golden Gate and I'd look the other way. Find out what you can and then make his sorry ass disappear."

Still refusing to let him see her face, she nodded and said, "Thank you, Owen."

"Despite what you all think, even I value a dose of retribution now and then." He walked to the french doors and opened them, then turned back and added, "Tell Callen and Ms. Jones I wish them well."

"Of course," Hetty assured him.

He shut the doors and she sank to the floor, utterly devastated and yet grateful that he had allowed her to fall apart in private. Now she understood Callen's guilt, though it was still misplaced, as well as his reluctance to talk about everything. She saw the parallels between his capture and his years as a foster child, and her heart broke for both the boy and the man inside him.

And finally, watching the video she understood something else. These men, these terrible monsters, had done something no one had ever been able to do before: they had destroyed him. Just as sure as she was that Nell would make it, she was certain that Callen, her Callen, was lost, and this time he might never make it back.

This alone was what brought her to her knees in the Computer Lab, her heart so full of despair that she feared it would cease to beat again. Tears raining down her wrinkled cheeks, she mourned the loss of the only one she had ever considered her son.

TBC...