The hum of the overhead lights was the only sound left in the building.
It was a low, steady buzz—barely noticeable during the day when voices and movement filled the space, but now, in the quiet of midnight, it crawled under Nell's skin like static. The bullpen was a ghost town. Lights dimmed. Desks cleared. Chairs tucked in. Even her own keyboard sat silent, the blinking cursor on her half-finished report like a pulse in an otherwise still room.
Nell shifted in her seat, stretching out her shoulders with a groan. She'd been here too long. What started as an innocent plan to "catch up" had turned into a full-scale late-night session of solitary confinement, surrounded by paperwork and silence.
She told herself it was fine.
She knew it was fine.
The doors were locked. The cameras were on. The building was secure. She'd seen the security feeds with her own eyes.
And yet…
Every little sound—every pop in the walls, every faint thud from above, every quiet creak in the air ducts—made her head jerk up just a little too quickly.
She was trying not to let her imagination get the better of her, but her senses were tuned too sharp, her brain refusing to settle. She glanced behind her—again—expecting nothing and still half-bracing for something.
The bullpen, usually so vibrant, felt wrong at night. Too empty. Like a theater after the actors had all gone home and the lights stayed on anyway, illuminating nothing but shadows and echoes.
She stood, pushing back her chair with a quiet scrape that sounded way louder than it should have. Her spine prickled, the hair on the back of her neck lifting for no reason she could name. She scolded herself inwardly. She was a federal agent. She knew better than this.
But fear doesn't listen to logic.
Moving quickly, like that would keep the feeling from settling too deep, she made her way toward the break station. Coffee. She needed coffee. Something warm. Something to keep her grounded.
She passed through the bullpen, her eyes flicking to corners, doorways, dark monitors. Every footstep echoed. Somewhere, distantly, something creaked.
She froze.
Not just a sound—but rhythm. Like footsteps.
Soft. Measured. Then gone.
She turned a slow circle, scanning the room. Nothing. No movement. No shadows where they shouldn't be. She swallowed hard and forced herself forward.
She reached the coffee machine, flipped the switch, and tried not to imagine anyone—or anything—behind her. She stared at the countertop, counting her breaths, willing her heartbeat to slow. This was ridiculous. She'd seen the security logs. She was alone.
She almost believed it.
And then—
"Nell?"
Nell screamed...loudly.
She whirled around so fast she nearly lost her footing, hands flying to her chest in a reflexive grip like she could physically hold her heart in place.
Callen stood there, not three feet away, eyebrows raised, clearly startled by her reaction.
"Jesus, Callen!" she gasped, breath ragged. She took a stumbling step back, one hand reaching out—then smacking his arm. "Don't do that!"
He blinked, then gave her an apologetic wince, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, yeah. That one's on me."
"You scared the crap out of me!" she hissed, pressing her hand to her chest like she was trying to steady the racing thud of her heart.
"I said your name."
"You materialized out of nowhere like some kind of secret agent poltergeist!"
He gave a sheepish chuckle. "I walked in through the side entrance. Saw your car in the lot and figured you were still inside, I just came to check on you." His smile widened, a little too amused. "Didn't think you'd be so jumpy."
"I wasn't jumpy," she muttered. "Just... alert."
Callen cocked a brow. "That scream sounded pretty alert."
She narrowed her eyes but couldn't help the reluctant laugh that slipped past her lips. "I hate you."
He grinned. "You love me."
She rolled her eyes, turning back to the coffee machine, but the tension in her hands betrayed her. They still trembled slightly as she reached for a mug.
After a pause, her voice came quieter, softer. "What are you even doing here this late?"
Callen stepped forward, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Forgot my phone charger in the locker room." He shrugged, but there was something in his gaze that didn't quite match the casual tone.
"But I've got it now, was just going to head out. You planning to stay much longer?"
Nell stood still, her back still mostly to him. "Uh, yeah, a little while." She nodded, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter, shoulders pulled a little tighter than they should have been. "Still got one report to finish."
Callen paused. Really paused. And when he spoke again, his voice was low. Careful.
"You want me to stay a while?"
Nell turned and looked up at him, caught off guard. Their eyes met—and held. The teasing was gone now, and in its place was something quieter. Steadier.
She nodded. "Yeah," she said softly. "If you don't mind."
"I don't," he said simply. No smile this time—just warm eyes and steady presence. "I'll keep the ghosts at bay."
He leaned against the counter beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Not pressing. Not asking questions. Just there.
She didn't thank him—not out loud. But when she handed him the second mug, and he took it without hesitation, her shoulders eased. The silence, once sharp and invasive, settled into something softer.
And in that quiet, surrounded by nothing but caffeine and dim lights, she let herself breathe.
Not alone.
Not tonight.