An hour had passed.
Not a single sound had broken the silence.
Callen sat back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, one hand resting on his stomach while the other loosely held his gun. His body had begun to relax, the tension easing from his shoulders. The eerie stillness that had once set them on edge had settled into something quieter, less immediate.
But across from him, Nell still sat curled up against the headboard, knees tucked to her chest, fingers gripping the handle of the small knife he'd given her like a lifeline.
He studied her for a moment. She hadn't spoken much since he came back inside, but the way her gaze flickered toward the window every so often, the way her fingers clenched around the knife whenever the wind howled a little louder—she was still on edge.
Callen exhaled, keeping his voice light as he said, "You know, you can probably put that down now."
Nell's grip tightened for a brief second before she glanced at him. "You think so?"
He tilted his head, giving her a lopsided smile. "It's been quiet for an hour. No more banging, no more scratching, no more creepy guys hanging around." He let his smirk deepen. "Unless you think the ghost of the gas station has unfinished business with us."
She shot him a dry look but didn't respond right away.
Callen softened. "We probably just overreacted," he admitted. "This whole place feels weird. Strange little town, run-down motel, storm rolling in—anyone would be spooked."
Nell let out a slow breath, but she didn't put the knife down. She kept holding it, resting the handle against her knee as if she wasn't quite ready to let it go.
Callen hesitated, then shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could look at her more directly. His voice lost its teasing edge, turning steady, quiet.
"I wasn't joking earlier," he told her.
She turned her head, meeting his gaze.
"When I said I'd protect you," he continued, his eyes holding hers, "I meant it."
Nell's lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak.
Callen watched her, seeing something flicker behind her eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or something softer, something vulnerable.
"You don't have to be scared," he said simply. "Not with me here."
She swallowed, and for a second, she just looked at him. Then, with a slow breath, she finally set the knife down on the nightstand.
Callen felt a small sense of relief, but he could still see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself a little too tightly, like she was trying to will herself into feeling safe.
So, without thinking too much about it, he shifted again—this time, lifting his arm and opening a space beside him. A quiet offer.
Nell hesitated, blinking at him, and he kept his expression neutral, letting her make the choice.
For a moment, she looked like she might refuse. But then, almost reluctantly, she moved.
Slowly, she stretched her legs out and slid toward him, settling into his side, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. Callen let his arm settle around her, not too tightly, just enough to let her know he was there.
She was warm against him, the scent of her shampoo lingering faintly in the air, and he felt the way her body gradually relaxed, the tension beginning to ease from her frame.
They sat like that for a while, listening to the rain tapping softly against the window, the occasional rumble of thunder rolling through the distance.
Then, quietly, Nell murmured, "I've never stayed anywhere like this before."
Callen smirked. "What, creepy motels in even creepier towns? Yeah, not exactly your scene."
She huffed a quiet laugh. "I meant… places that don't feel like home."
He glanced down at her, curious.
She hesitated before continuing. "I've only ever really lived in three places—my parents' house, my dorm in college, and my apartment in L.A. And those all felt… safe. Familiar." She let out a small breath. "This is different."
Callen was quiet for a moment, then said, "I moved around a lot. Never really had a place that felt familiar for long." He gave a small shrug. "You get used to new places quickly."
Nell was quiet, and then, softly, she said, "Guess that's why you're always so comfortable no matter where we are."
Callen chuckled. "Something like that."
She shifted slightly against him, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of his hoodie. "Wish I had that skill," she muttered.
He glanced down at her again, then squeezed her shoulder lightly. "You'll be fine, Nell."
She let out a small breath, and after a moment, he felt her relax completely, her body melting into his.
Callen settled back, letting himself get comfortable, his arm still around her. "Get some sleep," he murmured. "I'll keep watch."
Nell didn't answer right away. But then, barely above a whisper, she said, "I know."
A small smile tugged at Callen's lips.
And as the storm raged on outside, they stayed like that—tucked close together, safe, in the quiet of their motel room.