The office was quiet, too quiet for a Friday afternoon.

Callen leaned back in a chair in Ops, trying not to let the ache in his shoulder distract him—or the knot of restlessness coiling in his gut. Being benched with a shoulder injury wasn't exactly how he'd planned to spend the week. Worse than the pain was the helplessness. He wasn't used to watching the action from behind a screen.

In front of him, the big screen flickered with satellite feeds and tactical overlays. Sam, Kensi, and Deeks moved through a dusty warehouse on the outskirts of Carson, sweeping corners with precision and ease.

And Nell.

That was the part that didn't sit right. Not because she wasn't capable—he knew she was. She had proven that a dozen times over. But seeing her there, geared up, gun in hand, moving with the team, covering angles the way he should've been—it threw him.

"You okay?" Eric's voice broke into his thoughts. The tech analyst didn't look away from his monitors, but there was something careful in his tone. Like he was already picking up on the shift in Callen's posture.

"Fine," Callen said automatically. Too fast.

Eric's fingers flew across the keyboard. "You know she passed the last three field quals with near-perfect scores, right?"

Callen glanced sideways at him, one brow raised. "You always track her stats that closely?"

Eric smirked faintly. "Just the people I worry about."

Callen didn't answer. On the screen, the team moved into another section of the warehouse. Deeks said something snarky, barely picked up over comms. Kensi responded with a quiet "Shh." Sam's voice cut in next, low and focused.

Then came a sound that made Callen straighten in his seat—static, followed by a sharp burst of noise that sounded far too much like a scuffle. The camera angle jittered slightly. For a few seconds, there was only chaos.

"Talk to me," he said into the comms, eyes scanning every available angle on the monitor.

There was silence for a second too long. Then Nell's voice came in, slightly breathless but clear.

"Suspect tried to double back on Deeks. He's down. We're secure."

Eric shot him a glance—nothing judgmental, but definitely knowing. "She's got it, Callen. They all do."

Callen let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, jaw tight. "Yeah. I know."

But watching was hell.

xxxxxx

Later that evening, the building hummed softly with the return of life and movement. The team had rolled in twenty minutes ago, bruised and dusty but in good spirits. Callen had made the usual rounds—asked Sam about the op, clapped Deeks on the back, shared a look with Kensi that said thanks for watching her back, even if he didn't say it aloud.

But it was the light spilling out of the armory that drew him in now.

Nell stood by the gear lockers, peeling off her tac vest and placing it on the shelf with practiced ease. She looked tired, but her eyes were sharp, and there was a hint of adrenaline still lingering in her movements.

"Shoulder not acting up too much from all that sitting?" she asked without turning, clearly hearing his footsteps behind her.

Callen chuckled, stepping into the doorway. "Riding a desk might be more dangerous than I thought." He took a few steps into the room towards her. "So how'd it feel? Field duty."

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. "Not bad, actually. I didn't break anything. Or anyone. Except that guy who thought he could sneak up on Deeks."

Callen crossed his arms. "I heard. You did good out there today. You handled it."

"I did." She said with a smile as she pulled off the last of her tactical gear and slid it into the locker. "And before you ask—no, I didn't trip, drop my gun, or get lost."

He laughed. "Wasn't gonna ask."

She raised a brow, clearly not buying it. "You looked like you wanted to ask."

Callen held up a hand in surrender. "Okay, maybe a little."

"It's a little strange, you know. Being on the other side. Seeing how things move out there." Nell sighed.

Callen nodded. "I could say the same about being here. Watching."

There was a beat of silence as they both seemed to reflect on that.

She looked at him, more thoughtful now. "You didn't like it."

"Not a fan of feeling powerless," he admitted. "Especially when things get unpredictable."

Nell offered a small nod. "It's not easy. Letting someone else carry the weight for a day."

He looked at her, his expression softening slightly. "You carried it just fine."

Something flickered in her eyes—not surprise, but maybe quiet appreciation. She didn't respond right away. Just closed the locker door with a quiet click.

"And you're still intimidating through a headset." She smirked.

He gave a small, dry laugh. "Let's not make that a permanent thing."

"I wouldn't dare," she said with a hint of amusement. "But you were decent backup."

Their eyes met again—nothing overt, no lingering tension, but something steady passed between them. A mutual understanding. Respect. Maybe something still taking shape.

Nell finally grabbed her go-bag from the bench, slinging it over her shoulder with a practiced motion.

"Guess you'll be leaving the desk-riding to the professionals from now on." she said lightly.

Callen offered a faint smirk. "It's not as glamorous as it looks."

She took a few steps toward the door, then paused beside him, close enough that he could see the last traces of the mission still in her eyes—sharp, reflective, just under the surface.

"You did good up there today, too," she said, her tone softer now. "It's harder than it looks, right? Watching."

She gave him a small nod, then stepped past him into the hallway.

Callen turned slightly to watch her go, his gaze lingering on the empty doorway after she disappeared.

The armory felt quieter without her in it.