CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Picking up the phone to connect to Sam took Callen a long time, and a lot more troubled thoughts. In the end, he knew he didn't have a choice: he would lose Mosley if he didn't get back to Ops and include the team in his plans. Without Mosley, he simply didn't see any way of getting to Janvier in person, and in a timely fashion.
"G!" The relief in Sam's voice was palpable even on the phone and Callen feared it was unfounded. "Where… Where are you, buddy?"
Callen sucked in a deep breath. "I'm at the usual spot," he eventually answered, the merest tremor in his vocal cords lost over the wires.
"Need a lift?" Sam offered quickly, as if sensing the need to secure his fish on the line before it jerked away. Callen nodded, and then hummed an affirmative. Somehow not verbalising the need for help made it easier. "I'll be there," Sam promised, as Callen had known he would.
Callen left the fancy hotel in favour of the streets, after he and Mosley reached the agreement he didn't agree with: She would help him, but only if he included his team and they all worked together. She herself left to visit with Derrick, neither of them voicing that it might be the last time she saw him, and would be meeting Callen at the mission in two hours. It had taken Callen half that time to commit to the decision to include Sam and the others, and make his reluctant phone call.
With the addition of a baseball cap and sunglasses to hide the marks on his face, Callen headed for the scrubby park that had become his and Sam's new 'usual spot'. Juggling some change, he bought a takeaway coffee from a street vendor and drank the warm brown liquid without tasting it while he walked. And it was there, sitting on a park bench facing the road, collar turned up to the wind behind him, that he finally rang Sam.
By the time Sam arrived, Callen had squared it with himself, at least on the surface, that the only way forward was to pretend it was business as usual. His outburst in Ops, his silent escape followed by his subsequent evasion of Sam on the pier: he knew these things would not have gone unnoticed by his team, and they would undoubtedly be questioning his state of mind. Since taking down Janvier very much relied on his team supporting the plan he had laid out to Mosley, he couldn't afford for them to have any doubts about his decisions or capabilities. Time to act. To step into an undercover… as himself. It wouldn't be the first time he had lied to them, after all.
Consequently, he greeted Sam with a mock air of irritation and huffed, "About time… thought you'd stopped for donuts on the way."
Pausing only a beat, Sam responded in kind, "I did. None for you though. Only active field agents warrant donuts – consider this is me looking after your figure."
"I never knew you were so invested in how I looked," Callen bantered back as he slid into the passenger seat.
With multiple sideways glances at his partner as he negotiated the turns, Sam eventually said, "Traffic was terrible. Hope you weren't waiting too long?"
"Apology accepted," Callen smirked, and Sam rolled his eyes with a 'why do I bother' expression. He didn't trust this return to the Callen of old, was pretty sure his partner was stringing him along with the pseudo-banter. However, years of dealing with Callen had taught him the direct approach rarely yielded results, and so Sam refrained from asking how he was doing.
Next to him, Callen admired Sam's restraint, and didn't miss the continued sideways glances that took them all the way back to Ops.
"Excellent timing, gentlemen," Hetty greeted them, surreptitiously looking Callen up and down. The two men were continuing to banter as they came through the armoury where the others were gathered after some shooting practice, but like Sam, she instantly saw through the bright façade in her lead agent's demeanour.
"Why?" Callen asked suspiciously, doing his best to hang back as Hetty shooed them all in the direction of the gym.
"A little team-building exercise… you all need to blow off some steam and lighten up."
Callen rolled his eyes at Sam, but experience had proven to them that once Hetty had set her mind on something, there was little that could be done to dissuade her. It was better to comply with whatever she had in mind and get it over and done with.
"Please tell me you're not going to try and make us dance together again," Sam begged.
"Now look, you've put the idea in her head," Callen whispered to him crossly.
Shimmying over to Kensi, Deeks offered out a polite hand. "I don't mind a little dance with the lady," he grinned.
"No one's dancing," Sam said firmly. "Right, Hetty?"
"Right, Mr Hanna. I've long since given up expecting any of you to behave with the etiquette and decorum of gentlemen. No, I think you'll find this activity will be much more to your liking." Reaching behind her, Hetty took hold of a basketball and in a smooth motion bounced it over to Callen. He had been trying to discreetly slip his arm out of the sling that still secured it tightly across his chest and consequently wasn't ready for the ball, so he flicked it off his knee over to Sam, who caught it deftly. Callen glared at Hetty, suspecting that the timing of her throw to him had been no coincidence, even though her attention had appeared to be firmly on Sam and not his own attempts to lose the hated sling. Hetty showed no signs of noticing his annoyance. "Foul play, Mr Callen. It's a good job I hadn't blown the whistle to start."
"At least Eric won't be the worst player on the court," Deeks whispered to Kensi. He knew exactly what Hetty was doing, and his voice was deliberately just loud enough for the others to overhear, knowing that if he antagonised Callen into feeling the need to prove himself, even if only in play, it would over-ride some of the feelings of fear and inadequacy that had caused him to bolt. "We'll win this easily." Sure enough, Callen glared at him.
"Is all this really necessary?" Callen started, but was quieted with a death stare from Hetty and his teammates.
"Mr Beale, will you please join Mr Hanna and Mr Callen. Ms Jones, you are with Mr Deeks and Ms Blye."
"Yes!" squeaked Deeks, quickly throttling the sound as all five other players turned to glare at him.
"I, err, I mean… Is this really a good idea, Hetty?" Eric begged. He didn't feel at all comfortable being on a team with Callen and Sam. He'd let them down enough already. He wondered if he should offer up Callen's injuries as an excuse for them all not to play, but one quick glance at his team leader told him that would get him into far hotter water.
Nell smiled at him reassuringly. "It's just a game, Beale."
Hetty saw Callen's jaw clench at the mention of the word 'game'; it no doubt reminding him of the note left in the boatshed by Janvier, and she quickly blew her whistle to start play and prevent him from dwelling on it. Sam was the first in possession of the ball, but he quickly lost it and the other team passed deftly between each other to score within the first minute.
"Score!" Deeks sang out happily, and was silenced again by glares from the three men on the opposing team. Only Hetty understood what he was doing, but her sly smile went unnoticed by any of them.
"Put a bit of effort in, you two," Sam grumbled to his teammates.
"It's only a game, Sam," Eric echoed Nell.
"Sam doesn't like to lose, do you big guy?" Callen smirked, bouncing the ball with deliberate aim at Sam's head. It made contact, as he'd hoped. "Sorry. Little bit handicapped here."
Hetty swiftly re-started play, and this time Eric and Callen paid more attention to marking their opposing team members, allowing Sam to find a path to the net and score.
"That was better," he nodded with satisfaction.
"We gotta mark Sam better!" Kensi whispered to Deeks and Nell. Despite the ongoing situation, she found herself enjoying the game as her competitive streak came out, as Deeks, and no doubt Hetty, had known she would.
Commanded once again by Hetty to play on, the game got more vigorous. Callen made a couple of one-handed passes, losing the ball the second time when he misjudged the angle with his left hand. He swore, but luckily Sam was able to intercept the other team's attempt at another shot, resulting in the score remaining at one-all. Sam had no shot himself, so he threw the ball to Eric who was hovering on the sidelines trying to stay out of the action. Eric panicked and threw the ball wildly at Callen, who was nearest. With only one hand, Callen was unable to catch the impulsive throw, so he used the energy behind the ball to bounce it immediately in Sam's direction. Sam dunked it into the net seconds before Hetty blew the whistle twice to signify the end of the game, with a two-one win to Callen's team.
"Nice assist there, partner," Sam grinned over at Callen.
"I just deflected it from Eric," Callen shrugged.
"You see, Mr Callen, sometimes success is a guiding force in the background," Hetty said quietly to her panting agent. She hoped that the five-minute game had been the wake-up call both Callen and Eric needed. Their roles in the team might not always be out on the front line, but they were integral to its success nonetheless.
"Aww, c'mon Hetty." Deeks was whining. "Another few minutes of play… That was so short. We just needed more time for our team to gel."
"We don't always get the time we want in life, Mr Deeks," Hetty said wisely. She turned back to Callen and Sam. "Your office, Mr Callen."
Sinking into the seat he had occupied so often before in the distant memory of years gone by, Callen wasn't sure where to start. Back now, he was faintly embarrassed by his disappearance, though he knew Hetty understood. He looked on with unseeing eyes while Hetty busied herself making tea, accepting the resulting mug automatically.
Instead of seating herself opposite him on the other side of the desk, as so often had been the case in the past, Hetty perched next to Callen on the little leather two seater. He raised half an eyebrow and Hetty shrugged almost as imperceptibly.
"It seems neither of us want the role behind that desk now, do we," she commented.
"Hetty…" Callen stalled. After a pause, he asked, 'How did you know?"
"My dear Mr Callen," Hetty looked over him fondly. "That seat was never meant to be yours, and I always had my doubts. But you did what you needed to do… to keep Sam happy."
"He'd lost so much," Callen acknowledged. "I didn't want him to… to lose the last of his identity. To drift." He glanced up at Hetty, seeing nothing but understanding. "That kind of life might suit Lance, or me… but Sam… Sam needs roots. OSP gave him roots, when his family…" Callen couldn't bring himself to say it. "I gave him what he needed to stay," he finished simply.
"But at what cost, Mr Callen?"
"It's not been too bad," Callen shrugged. Hetty didn't reply, simply fixed him with one of her stares. "Okay, okay, I've hated it," he admitted with a half-hearted grimace at being caught in the lie.
"You've done a good job, by all accounts." Callen made to protest, but Hetty continued to talk. "But life behind a desk… it was never what you were born for, was it? A field agent, that's what you are, through and through."
"I thought I could do it," Callen responded seriously. "After all, I'm getting older. Every field agent has to hang up their gun some day."
"But, even now," Hetty gestured to his arm, which he had finally released from the sling and was now resting in his lap, "You are not ready to retire."
"Do you think we ever are, in this game?" Callen's expression soured once more as the expression reminded him again of Janvier, but he looked expectantly at Hetty for an answer.
"I suppose not," she sighed. "And those words bring us neatly back to our current situation…"
"I don't want to involve the team, Hetty," Callen said frankly. He focused down on his injured hand in his lap, no longer wanting to look Hetty in the eye. "We've already lost Joelle, Connor was lucky, and Sam… I don't want the others getting hurt."
"Have you ever considered that they don't like to see you getting hurt?"
"Of course, but…"
"But nothing," Hetty interrupted, holding her hand up to emphasise the need for him to stop making excuses. "You may continue to see yourself as expendable in this world, maybe you always will, despite our best efforts to convince you otherwise. But that's not how your team sees it. By sacrificing yourself to save them, you are in fact risking exactly the opposite… Like it or not, Mr Callen, you are the glue which holds this motley crew together, and I think deep down you know that. Why else would you stay?"
"I stay to protect them."
"They can protect themselves, don't you think?"
Callen thought for a moment. "I guess so… I mean, I know they can. But sometimes they care too much. It gets in the way, clouds their judgement. You and I both know, in this life, you have to be able to take a step back. Stay objective. If you get too attached…" He didn't finish, but Hetty heard the years of pain and loss in his voice.
"And yet," she said softly, "Over the past couple of years, your team has become somewhat fragmented. Detached… Not just you. Look at Kensi, at Deeks. You lost an agent and instead of rallying together to support one another through the grief, you have all dealt with it on your own. But can you honestly say your team is better for it?"
Callen didn't know how to respond. Had his lone wolf ways rubbed off on his team? It was just yet another reason why he should never have taken on the role of trying to lead them, if so.
"Consider this, Mr Callen. This situation with Janvier, it is not just about you. It never was. He wants to hurt you all. Do you not think your team have the right - have earned the right - to help in their *own* survival?"
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A/N: To add insult to injury, I now have covid..! So I'm still wrestling with the third-to-last and second-to-last chapters. Which are long - but are unhelpfully not breaking nicely into three...! Still, here's another chapter, better late than never. Thanks to all those still reading, it makes me happy at least some people will get to see the end of this mammoth story!
To 1961Reader - yeah, I was a bit surprised to see Mosley again too! It wasn't in my original plan to bring her back in. The plot bunnies had other ideas. Hopefully she is tolerable. I do find when re-watching that I don't find S9 with her half as bad as I used to, because S10/11 got so awful..! Anyway, Mosley's character served the sort of purpose I (and Callen) needed to wind this up...
And to Rosemoor - my stories will *always* have a strong Callen emphasis! I had half planned another (there's one line I *really* want to use in a story, and somehow in 100k words it hasn't made it in here..!) but with the show now over and this story having dragged on SO long I am not sure I will get round to it now... we'll see. It was only ever going to be a short one or two chapter set back in S5-ish so maybe...
A bit of fun in this chapter, amongst the seriousness. It just grew around a little vision I had of Callen annoying Sam by hitting him with the ball and blaming it on his injuries! I hope you like it!