King of Ghosts
Owen Granger left the bar after celebrating with Detective Deeks and Agent Blye. He had been disappointed Agents Callen and Hanna had declined, he was trying hard to have them accept him as part of their family. As he pulled into his new house he was renting, seeing he was spending so much of his time in the Los Angeles office, his thoughts went to his family. He knew he had failed at the duty of husband and father, which pained him deeply. But it came with the job, always off somewhere unknown and classified, for who knew how long.
He unlocked the door and switched on the lights. The house came with furniture, which he was pleased with, seeing he never had the time to shop for things like that. He had a tailor he used over the years for his suits, but other than that, he shopped as little as possible. What he spent his time, when not working, was something that had him driven from the early 1970’s. He had been caught behind the iron curtain in Eastern Germany, as a spy, but one man came to his rescue and aided him in escaping. He opened his laptop and signed in on the CIA’s system using his old ID, which he had managed to keep, since moving across to NCIS. He switched on his espresso machine to brew a cup of coffee. It was going to be another long night. He rubbed his shoulder as an ache from using right arm throughout the day took its toll. It was imperative he hid his pain from those around him. His shoulder hadn’t been the same since he had been shot nine months earlier. He had gone in full throttle with Agent Hanna to rescue Agent Callen from the Comescus, knowing how important it was to save the young man.
With coffee in hand, he returned to the table and began his search for an old friend. Old photos of the man who had once saved his life, when he should have died on German soil sat beside his laptop. Piercing cerulean orbs shone through the sandy blond hair that overhung his forehead. His smile plastered on his face, as he lifted his son high in the air. “Where are you Nikita? Your son needs you.”
It had been too long since he had seen his friend and saviour. Concern for his wellbeing had ensued him since he managed to get him out of the prison camp in 1980. He had help from Arkady Kolcheck, who had helped Nikita in getting him out of Eastern Germany, so he knew he could trust the Russian. Many times he had visited the former KGB officer, when in Los Angeles, hoping between the two of them, they could find Nikita Reznikov. Although he had hoped Arkady knew where Nikita was, he never gave up on his search, even when the Russian had disappointed him, in not being able to help him. He suspected Arkady was doing what he could to find his old friend as well.
Watching Callen’s expression inside Rhinehart’s house, when he saw the words written in blood, “Callen, we have your father,” kept him awake at night. He had tried to help Callen as much as he could, but without telling him that he knew his father, he couldn’t even tell him what the G stood for. He knew Henrietta had no knowledge of the man’s name, although she knew Clara Callen. Unfortunately, his first meeting with Agent Callen had gone so very badly. So much had changed the man, since he had seen him as a child, happy and loved by both parents. He should have known and been prepared for it, but it still bothered him just the same. He’d berated himself for his reaction to Agent Callen.
Since meeting Agent Callen for the first time in thirty-five years, he became more resolved in helping him find his father. Not just for Callen, but for Nikita, who he knew, loved both of his children and his wife dearly. They were his life, and it was reflected in the man, when he was around them.
Owen’s fingers froze over the keys, when an image match appeared on his screen. The man was much older than he had last seen him, which matched the age he would be now. In his late 60’s. But those cerulean orbs remained the same. Owen furrowed his brow as he looked at where Nikita was found. Pheonix, Arizona. He’s coming here. He must know where his son is.
The hairs on the back of Owen Granger’s neck stuck up, as he felt we wasn’t alone. He swiftly pulled his weapon out of his jacket, but was too late.
“You’ve become slow in your old age, Owen.” The Russian accent had faded over the years. It was tinged with an Texan accent.
“Where have you been all this time, my old friend? Your son needs you.” Owen turned and smiled, when he saw Nikita Reznikov standing by his back door, his weapon, now hung in the rear of his trouser’s waistband.
Nikita walked over, as Owen stood. Both men assessed the other. “I see you never gave up looking for me, Owen.” He moved in and hugged his old friend. “Michael told me how you moved across to NCIS to be closer to my boy.” Nikita’s eyes were sad , as he thought about the loss of an old friend.
“He doesn’t like me, you know. I’ve tried, but he has too much of Clara’s stubbornness in him.” Granger slowly pulled away from his friend and assessed how living on the run had aged him.
“You should tell him that you know me.” Nikita admitted. “He’ll let his guard down then. He’s only trying to protect himself. He’s been alone for too long.” Sadness was evident in his eyes. “But his partner looks like he’s taken him under his wing. Become a brother to him, like you were to Donald Blye.”
Granger smiled at the fond memories of his dear friend. “Your son works with his daughter. They’re good friends.”
“I know. I’ve watched you all from a distance. Michael and Arkady have been very good to me.” Nikita smiled, knowing how much Owen had tried to get information from Arkady. “Don’t be hard on him, Owen. He was on direct instructions from me not to tell you anything. I needed to know it was safe for my son as well as for me, before I showed myself.” His visage darkened. “However, I’m not sure how he’ll receive me.”
“He’s found a film of you and Amelia, with him when he was a baby. Until then, he thought you didn’t love him. But since he’s found the film, he’s been more settled. I think he’ll welcome you, Nikita. He needs you. Needs to know his name.”
“Tell him.” Nikita stated. He looked around him, at Owen’s house. “Maybe then, he’ll furnish his home more like this, instead of living like he’s on the run.” It had saddened him to see how little his son had in his life. “Then he might settle down and have a family of his own.”
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