From Lone Wolf to Leader of the Pack
By: Motsie of Atlantis

G. Callen didn’t do partners. Every time he was partnered up on a CIA operation, something eventually went wrong, and people ended up badly hurt or dead. The only one he ever worked with where things didn’t blow up in his face was Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a former Marine who became his mentor at NCIS. Gibbs was now was NCIS Special Agent in Charge of the Major Case Response Team in Washington, DC., the team Callen was on before being reassigned to Los Angeles.

Callen was more of a lone wolf, and was very good at it. He had taught himself to speak Polish, Russian, German and Czech, so he could infiltrate almost any country in Eastern Europe. He was incredibly patient; put him next to a statue and you would swear that the statue would move first. And when he did move, it was like a ghost viewed out of the corner of your eye; now you see it, now it’s gone, making you wonder if it really ever was there at all. He could take on almost any persona and pull it off without a hitch. Even, on that very rare occasion, when his cover was blown, he usually was able to save the mission.

And now, as he looked around the table, he saw, not just his partner, but almost everyone that comprised the main team of the Office of Special Projects, working for the Naval Criminal Investigative Services. The only one missing was Hetty, their former Project Manager. Callen spent extra time, looking at each member sitting there, knowing that with what he had to tell them, this might be the very last time that they gathered together like this.

This was supposed to have been a belated victory celebration. But for Callen it really felt more like a wake. And the sad thing was that Callen knew what each of their answers would be when he would finally ask them the ultimate question. They would, each of them, back him to the hilt. They were his team. Their loyalty to him, to Hetty, to the team, to each other, could never be questioned. They each would go through hell or high water for him. In Afghanistan it was the hell and with this drug sub it was the high water. Each one had proved themselves, over and over again.

)( )( )( )( )( )(

He looked at the members of his family, gathered around him, and delving deep in his memories, he thought of the first time he laid eyes on each of them as a member of his team.

 
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Yesterday
By: CALLEN37

Yesterday.

Yesterday had been so easy, Sam and Callen had been picked up by the coastguard, the sub surrounded and the guys holding them gave up. After a Helicopter flight back to the mainland, Sam had been reunited with his wife and daughter.

Deeks and Kensi had told them some things had happened at the office, but nothing for them to worry about and after welcoming them back had gone off together.

Callen had been as usual left on his own.

He stood on the dock watching Sam, Michelle and their daughter heading to Michelle’s car, Sam’s having been towed back to headquarters a few days ago. Five days missing in a sub had been almost too much for Sam to handle and Michelle had brought the convertible so Sam could feel the breeze and the air as he slowly acclimatized to not being in an enclosed space again.

Callen knew he would never tell the others about the panic attacks that Sam had had while they were trapped in the back of the tiny little submersible. They had talked about everything and anything to get Sam’s mind off his fears. Sam telling stories about his childhood and Callen in return telling…edited…stories about his.

He walked over to a bench overlooking the ocean and sat staring out at the waves the last five days playing out in his mind.

“So…There must have been some good ones?” Sam had asked as Callen lay back against the bulkhead trying to get comfortable as he listened to the men in the next compartment talking in Arabic.

“Good ones?” He replied confused.

“Homes G, you had thirty seven in that book, even I know the math, moving as often as you said, it isn’t feasible that you were in foster homes all the time…”

“Well they weren’t all that great.” Callen sighed.

“You must have had one…at least one…I mean you didn’t turn out an abusive alcoholic, something must have put you on the straight and narrow.” Sam had commented.

 
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Safe
By: I Feel Possessed

The team’s most recent case had proven to be tough on all of them, including those behind the scenes in the Operations Centre. Marine Intelligence Officer Southerly was suspected of feeding misinformation to his superiors about terrorist activities in Iraq and the case had been assigned to NCIS after the suspicious death of Southerly’s co-worker the previous day. Their first task had been to locate and arrest Southerly, which had proven to be easier said than done. Information on his whereabouts was secured by Nell and Eric, who had advised the team to go tactical at zero seven hundred hours that morning. The raid had yielded no results; there had been no sign of Southerly and no evidence he had ever been present in the leafy suburban house by the beach. Nell had subsequently found a small office space in the name of O’Kiefe, which was his mother’s maiden name, and she directed the team to an address twenty miles west of their current location. Again the raid was fruitless.

Meanwhile, Eric had managed to hack into Southerly’s personnel records and realised that he had been deliberately falsifying evidence of property ownership. Backtracking through a twenty year history, Eric had uncovered a third, previously hidden address. With more confidence than he felt, Eric had instructed the team to raid their third address of the day; a three storey house in an unassuming neighbourhood in Van Nuys.

The team had assumed their usual pairing positions, with Sam and Callen taking the front of the house; Kensi and Deeks the rear. Up on a count of three, the doors had been knocked off the hinges and each floor was quickly and methodically cleared. All four finally converged in front of the locked door to the converted attic.

Callen signalled to his team, and on the hand signal for three, Deeks rammed the door open and stood swiftly to one side, allowing Callen, Sam and Kensi to enter and sweep the room. It was empty. Again, no Southerly. Callen lowered his weapon.

“Eric,” he growled in frustration. “Southerly is not here. We’ve run out of places to search.”

“Sorry Callen,” Eric’s response came through the team’s earwigs. “That’s all I have.”

“Don’t worry Eric, we know he lives here. There’s plenty of evidence and we’ve found several laptops,” Kensi assured him.

Deeks wandered around the attic room, which was sparsely furnished with a wooden wardrobe and a grotty single bed.

“Looks like this room has more furniture than your entire house, G.” Sam stated with a smile as he moved back towards the door.

“Whoa,” Deeks exclaimed as he opened the wardrobe doors. “Unless he’s kept all of these from his own childhood, I would say Southerly has a kid.”

“There is nothing in his files to suggest that,” Nell said through the earwig. “But I’ll check further.”

Callen looked around him and hesitated. “The door was locked,” He said slowly. He clenched his jaw as he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The clothes in the wardrobe looked dirty, and the bed covers were filthy and smelt musty, with a faint hint of urine. He held his finger up to his lips motioning his team to be quiet and pointed to the bed. Crouching down, gun in hand just in case, Callen squinted as he looked in to the dark cavernous space beneath. A small pair of wide eyes stared back at him.

“Hey, it’s Ok, you can come out now,” Callen said quietly.

 
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Making Peace
By: BH72

Nate Getz had thrown G. Callen off balance on his last visit to the Office of Special Projects. Usually he would ask the senior agent questions and observe, while Callen would squirm on the chair opposite him, working on an altered truth to how he really felt. But this time, he knew he had his partner to blame for his predicament. Sam must have told him about his new relationship with Joelle. It was the only explanation for Nate’s questions.

Callen had been avoiding Sam’s questions about his relationship with the kindergarten teacher of recent weeks. He felt uncomfortable talking about it with his partner, who he saw as a brother. He mentally head slapped himself for the mistake to shut this off from the giant teddy bear. But the truth was, he couldn’t put into words how he felt about taking the relationship further. It was new for him, he was himself, not some alias, where he could be pulled away and be free from the situation at any time.

His face had said it all, when Nate had concluded that he had too much pain from his past, that held him back from giving him all to someone else. How did he do it? Callen may be an expert at hiding his reactions to things, it was a necessary while undercover, or when interrogating a suspect. But Nate had seen that he had knocked the nail on its head. His haunted past, held G. Callen from letting go of the barriers around his heart. But he wasn’t prepared for what Nate said next.

“I have a project for you to complete, Callen.” His brown eyes met Callen’s cerulean eyes in a Mexican Standoff.

“You’ve what?” Callen licked his lips from the nerves that rippled through his veins.

“A project.” Nate warmly smiled over to him. “This will help you move on, Callen. I only ever want the best for you, just like Hetty and Sam.” He pulled a sheet of paper out from under the file he had placed on his desk. “I would like you to go through the list of all the foster families on this sheet of paper, and highlight the ones where you have happy memories.”

Nate sat back and observed the shuffles Callen made on the brown leather chair he had been sitting in. He waited patiently for the man before him to accept the project and leave. Every emotion that Nate had ever seen flashes of over the years, appeared briefly on the agent.

“Only the good ones?” Callen raised his brow, just confirming Nate’s instructions.

Nate smiled. “Yes, Callen. Only the good ones.”

 
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