Chapter 8

It happened, just as Sam had said it would.

She just didn't think it would happen so soon. A few weeks, maybe a month. She was not prepared for him to disappear after only five days...

Nell tried to call Callen, but after three rings she got his voicemail. She tried three more times before she gave up and shoved her phone in her pocket.

Then, an idea came to her and she pulled it out again.

Hey, she texted him, where are you?

She waited five minutes for a reply.

Ten.

After twenty minutes, she sent another text.

Call me.

She got no reply.

Sighing, she grabbed her keys and purse and left her apartment. Locking the door behind her, she paused to check it a second time, then hurried out to her car and drove to his house. It wasn't a far drive - less than ten minutes, but the midday traffic she got stuck in made it seem like an hour. As she sat there in her car, every scenario her mind could conjure passed through, making her more nervous - and more angry - by the minute.

Finally she parked in front of his house and knocked on the door, but either he wasn't home or he simply wouldn't answer. Standing on his porch, she dialed a number on her phone and put it to her ear.

"Nell? Are you okay?" The voice on the other end asked.

She smiled. "I'm fine, Eric. I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Can you find out where Callen is? I've been trying to get a hold of him, but..."

"One minute. I'll see if I can find him."

She gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

She could hear him typing, and then the sound paused and he asked, "Are you at Callen's house?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason," he replied. "I found your cell signal. Still searching for Callen..."

While she waited she glanced around at the outside of the house. In the front yard, a huge fuchsia bougainvillea draped over the front window, slowly spreading toward the front porch, while another bush of the same variety crept up over the left hand wall to the roof. The front stoop was accented with the loveliest patterned tiles, hand-painted in colors that matched the stucco adorning the exterior. They were her favorite feature, even more than the riot of fragrant flowers, because they showed the care a person had gone through to make this house a home. They were the smallest detail, but without them it would not have the same character it did now. They told a story, like the potted plants by the door. Nell knew that they were the same plants that had been there when Callen moved in. Somehow, despite the fact that they had once been little more than brown brittle stalks of grass, he had brought them back to blooming, their purple blossoms attracting a few honeybees. Their stalks were shorter, not as full as they could have been, but that was only due to the drought they'd experienced before he arrived.

"Anything?" She asked Eric, who sighed heavily into the phone.

"Sorry," he replied. "He must've taken the battery out. I can't get a signal."

"That's okay." She looked around one last time and then added, "I've got someone else I can ask."

Angry, Nell stalked into the Mission and found Hetty talking to a man with salt-and-pepper hair and deeply tanned skin. She was seated, but the man was standing, though his relaxed shoulders told Nell that their conversation was somewhat light, at least at the moment.

When she entered the room, he turned around and only then did she recognize him.

"Agent Sterling?" She asked the man. " What are you doing here?"

"Just getting my next assignment," he told her. "Though I could ask you the same question."

She blushed at his open appraisal of her person, and some of her anger melted away. He, like Agent Gibbs, had the of ability to put someone at ease with nothing more than a look. Of course, they could also use that same ability to agitate, and ultimately, get a confession. "Uh, I just had to talk to Hetty for a moment."

Sterling nodded. "Well, I won't keep you. You look well."

"Thank you."

"Coming back to work?"

"Hopefully soon," she replied with a pointed look at Hetty.

"Good to see you." To Hetty, Sterling said, "I'll get right on this," and held up the folder she'd given him.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling."

He left through the front door to the courtyard, and Hetty turned her gaze upon the young woman before her. "What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?"

Now, Nell remembered the reason she was upset, and frowned deeply as she asked, "Where is he?"

"I'm afraid I don't..."

"Callen," she sighed impatiently. "He won't answer my calls."

"Oh, well, I haven't seen him."

Nell gazed around, still frowning. "I checked his house, I called Sam and Deeks..."

"Sit down, dear," Hetty interjected, her hand indicating the chair Sterling had vacated. "Please."

"I hoped he wouldn't do this," Nell muttered more to herself than her manager. "I thought he trusted me."

"Oh, Ms. Jones! He does trust you. Mr. Callen is..."

"A difficult man, I know. Sam explained that to me, and I get it. But I thought we'd...I thought after everything that I would be the last person he'd shut out."

"Unfortunately there is no rhyme or reason to some of Mr. Callen's more upsetting traits. Once his mind has reached that point where it either shuts down or explodes, logic no longer has reign over him."

"I don't know what to do, Hetty. I'm afraid for him. What if he's hurt or sick or...worse?"

"I'm sure he's fine," the older woman assured her. "This is normal for him. In a few days he will come out of hiding and..."

Just then, Nell heard a noise from upstairs and leaned back in her chair to glance up at Ops. She caught a glimpse of a familiar shape behind the glass and turned surprised eyes on Hetty. "Is he...is that him up there?"

Hetty got up and walked around her desk to look, and Nell stood up as well. "He must have sneaked by when I was busy," Hetty pondered aloud. Perhaps in her old age she was getting clumsy, losing her edge. "I had no idea..."

Nell glared at her in disbelief and then rushed for the stairs, ignoring Hetty calling her name. Her anger surged back red-hot as she pounded up to Ops. How could she have lied? she wondered, but then she knew. Callen was pretty much Hetty's adopted son. Of course she wouldn't rat him out.

Unless, another part of her pondered, she hadn't lied at all. His nickname, after all, was the Ghost.

Nell reached the top stair and stopped just outside the doors. Sure enough, Callen was inside the room, talking to someone else she could not see from this angle. She could move to the other side, but if she did he was sure to see her and that was the last thing she wanted right now. She needed to find out what he was doing here and why he was avoiding her...

"Last chance," the man to his right said.

Callen shook his head. "I don't know about any weapons."

The man clucked his tongue and then knelt down in front of Nell. He grabbed her bangs and yanked back, and she yelped as he slapped her face hard, bringing tears to her eyes as her cheek turned bright red. Callen tried to leap forward to stop him but as the shackles kept him in place he began shouting, so loud it hurt his throat.

"Leave her alone! Nell, I'm so sorry. Stop! Please!"

Laughter erupted from the man filming, and then amid this and Callen's shouts, the scene faded out to black once more.

The video stopped, and Kensi turned to Callen and asked, "Why are we doing this again?"

Callen looked at her. "Because I need to know."

"But all the stuff you guys went through...are you sure you want me to see this?"

"No," he replied. "But I don't want to watch it alone."

"We could just ask..."

"No!" He said quickly. "Just press PLAY again."

Shrugging lightly, she did as he asked.

This time when the camera faded in, a man was holding Callen against the wall, his meaty arm locked across Callen's throat and prepared to choke him if he lashed out, while another man used a syringe to inject him with something. Callen was most definitely fighting against his hold, as his jaw was clenched hard and the tendons in his neck stood out, but the starvation he had been subjected to forced him to give up more quickly than usual and he finally relaxed and leaned his head back against the wall. The needle was removed from his arm, and he glared at the man restraining him.

"It won't work," he said, though his voice was already slurring slightly. "I won't tell you anything, because I don't know anything."

"Is not truth serum," the man who'd injected him replied.

Callen's blue eyes filled with fear. Truth serum he had dealt with before, more than once, but he had no idea what this - whatever it was - would do to him. "Then what..." he shook his head as his vision blurred. "What is it?"

More laughter, and then, "You will see."

The men released him from the shackles and dragged him over to Nell, laughing as they dumped him beside her. They disappeared from view, but anyone watching the video could tell they were still in the background, somewhere behind the camera. For the first few minutes, nothing happened. Callen remained on the floor beside Nell, and she used her bound hands to stroke his face. They spoke to one another, their lips moving but with no audible sound as the microphone was not strong enough at that distance to pick up what was said.

Five minutes in, Callen's limbs suddenly began to tremble. Concerned, Nell sat up and put her bound hands against his face. Her lips moved, clearly uttering his name, but either he couldn't or wouldn't answer. Then, the trembling morphed into a full-on seizure, and Nell frantically struggled to roll him onto his side, but with her hands tied it was hard for her to get the necessary leverage. Finally, she managed to shove him onto his right side, and though her body blocked most of him from the camera's view his thrashing legs were still completely visible. The seizure only lasted thirty seconds, but it was enough to terrify her. She remained right beside him, her hands hovering over his torso as if she were afraid touching him would bring on another episode, until at last he looked up at her, confusion full on his face.

Kensi looked over at Callen. "You remember this?"

He nodded. "This part, yeah...the rest I'm not so sure about..."

"Nell?" He asked, fear thickening his voice, "What happened?"

"They gave you something," she explained, her own voice sounding tired. "It made you have a seizure."

He seemed to understand, though his eyes still seemed unfocused and his skin had grown frighteningly pale and damp with sweat. When she brushed her hand across his forehead she grimaced at how hot it felt.

"You need something to drink," she told him as she dragged her canteen closer.

The sound of the metal canister scraping against the cement floor caused Callen to screw his eyes shut and clamp his hands over his ears, and he cried out in pain as he simultaneously attempted to stop her from making any further sound.

"Stop! God, please...!" He gasped.

Nell released the canteen as if it were on fire and, forgetting they were bound together, tried to place her hands over his on either side of his head. She was forced to settle for just the left one.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried. "I didn't know..."

"It's...it's okay." He gasped in a few more breaths, and when the pain had subsided enough to open his eyes again he fixed them on her face and said, "Some kind of poison, I guess."

She nodded.

"Probably..." He paused as a burning sensation began in his chest, more painful than any heartburn he'd ever had. "Gonna get worse."

"Please don't leave me, Callen," she begged. "I can't...I can't be alone here."

He winced, but managed to shake his head. Even though it hurt terribly to speak, he ground out, "I won't...won't leave you. Promise."

All night long, though a stiff breeze blew through the pane-less windows above them, Callen's temperature soared into what Nell figured must have been above 101. He had two more seizures, leaving him semi-conscious and exhausted. He could barely move, his already-weakened limbs unable to support his weight for more than a few moments at a time. Nell made him drink both rations of water, only taking a few sips for herself, and when he began to babble incoherently during what she guessed was a hallucination she soothed him and replied to his questions even though none of them made any sense.

His fever broke sometime before dawn, and thankfully he began to regain some of his strength. Having stayed awake the entire time, Nell figured now that he seemed to be resting peacefully she could finally get a little rest herself, so she lay down beside Callen and closed her eyes. Curled on to her side with her back to him, her head pillowed on her hands, she felt the pull of slumber dragging her down almost as soon as she lay down. She could just barely hear Callen still muttering to himself, but it was actually little more than white noise to her at this point. Everything blurred together into one soft sound that lulled her further to sleep - Callen's voice, the distant crash of the ocean on the shore, the creaking of the rafters above them, and her own heartbeat.

She just wished she was anywhere else but here...

The sun was shining.

She reveled in the feel of it on her face, warming her cheeks and turning the insides of her eyelids watermelon red.

She could smell flowers on the air, lupines and wild carrot and thistle among a few others. The grass underneath her was cool, dotted with the slight remains of morning dew. The breeze was warm but not hot, and when it blew across her face some tendrils of her hair moved along with it. A meadowlark whistled its song from someplace nearby, the warbled notes reminding her of a cell phone ringing.

She had no idea of when or how she'd gotten here, but this place - wherever it was - was so completely peaceful that she loved it.

Even before she opened her eyes she could tell that someone else was there, but their presence was calming, familiar. She stretched her limbs and though the muscles ached and her skin felt tight it wasn't unbearable. It felt like she'd been running a marathon.

Finally she let her hazel eyes flutter open, and she turned her head to the left. Blue eyes peered back at her, and she smiled softly.

"Hi," she greeted the man beside her, her eyes squinting in the bright light.

"Hi," Callen returned, his fingers idly tugging at the petals of a buttercup as he lay on his stomach. "Have a good nap?"

She nodded. "I did."

He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. "Good."

She closed her eyes again, content to breathe in the air around them, to enjoy just being here. She could feel his hand brush up and down her arm, and she smiled.

"This was a great idea," she said, and then giggled when the bristle of his day-old stubble scratched where his fingers had just been as he pressed his lips first to the inside of her elbow, then her forearm.

"Mmm," was all he said.

"Having fun?" She asked as she cracked her eyelids open to look at him.

He raised himself up on his elbows and pressed his mouth to hers, effectively silencing her. She had to admit she was having fun, especially at that moment. She enjoyed everything about the man currently kissing her - his eyes, his smile, even his more serious and withdrawn side. She knew about his past, why he kept himself closed off from most people, and though it made her sad to know he had gone through such horrible things she knew that every experience had lent a part to the man he was now. She was a little surprised at the affection he was suddenly showing her, but he seemed to be so completely comfortable that she wasn't about to stop it.

"Shh," he said, dragging his lips down to her jaw and then over to her ear. "You talk too much."

"And you don't talk enough," she laughed as he shifted so that he was now leaning over her. Her hands drifted over his shoulders, her fingers whispering along his sun-warmed t-shirt to stroke the soft skin at the back of his neck.

"Don't need to. My work speaks for itself."

Now she propped herself up on her elbows and gazed into his eyes. "Does it?"

He nodded solemnly and then waggled his eyebrows, and she collapsed back onto the ground in a fit of giggles. He chuckled along with her, and when she had calmed down she took a breath and said, "I would like to see how true that is."

He tilted his head slightly, gauging her honesty, and then said, "I'm happy to oblige."

He leaned down and kissed her again. She closed her eyes as his scent washed over her and his tongue swept across her lips. She moaned as he began to press harder, his left hand moving to her waist and then up under her shirt. Soon however, she realized that he was holding her down, pinning her to the ground. His mouth was no longer a gentle pressure but painfully assaulting her tender lips. She put her hands against his chest and tried to push him away, but it was as if he were made of stone.

Finally, she managed to turn her head for a moment, and only then did she realize that the air was not sweet with wildflowers but damp and acrid, the sun no longer shining brightly around her.

She was not in the field.

She was in the warehouse.

And what was even more frightening was that she had not been dreaming. Well, she had been, but not about everything. Callen was indeed there holding her down, just as she'd dreamed; her hands were still pressed to his chest, her lips bruised from his rough kiss.

"Callen?" She squeaked as she struggled against him some more. "What're you doing?"

He didn't answer, only dropped his head down to kiss her again. She tried to turn away, but he caught her chin in his hand and held her in place.

"Please, don't do this," she begged as tears began to slide down her temples.

His expression remained static, and she closed her eyes in defeat.

TBC...