172Chapter 14
Detour
A/N The here it is, the last chapter indeed… and things appear to be so bad! I hope you'll enjoy the read once again. Please let me know if you liked 'Detour' as a whole story.
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Pushkin Street || Heniches'k
Romani. It equaled Comescu to him.
There was no escape, not in his condition. His ocean blue eyes looked up at her, facing his fate. "Finish it quick, will you…," he gasped.
Thoughts flashed through his head at the speed of light.
The hand with that same wheel with spokes, that handed him a tin soldier.
The shot that had killed his mother.
The feeling of being unwanted. Being on his own, alone in a far too cold world. No one to be trusted.
The shots he had fired in his long career, and the shots that had hit him.
Now there was this gun in the hands of this woman. A member of the family who wanted him dead.
Callen wasn't afraid of dying. But there were those things he regretted.
No time left to tell Sam, tell Hetty and the others how he finally felt at ease, at home, welcome and loved, simply feeling accepted the way he was.
No time left to take the effort of finding out about his father.
No time to wonder if family life would fit him. Family life like Sam and Michelle had. Like he knew there would be for Kensi and Deeks.
Dying in here, alone. Like he had been living alone, far too long.
The woman wiped her left hand over her eyes as she looked down on the severely wounded man. The trace of dry blood on his head, the bandage on his left hand - he had been suffering from more pain and hurt recently.
His eyes mirrored the pain he was in. Despite the dark circles and the lines of pain that were etched on his face, the dark stubble on his face made him look sturdy, interesting in fact. But there was something else she saw. Regrets. A fighter. She'd heard so many things about him.
How he'd come to destroy the family life in Eforie
'but hadn't he done that to save somebody else?'
How he had killed Dracul…
'but he let him live during their first meet. And Dracul did so many bad things, killed so many innocent people too…'
How he wiped away Vasile and Anton. Got Christo and Iorgu behind bars.
'but that was because he escaped his own fate of getting killed by Vasile...'
She looked down at Callen, then made her decision. She put her gun away and scanned the nearly empty room. The white sheets that had been drawn over the sparse furniture were covered with dust, but those were all she had to work with. Pulling one from the nearest chair she quickly folded it.
"Lie still."
Callen didn't realize he had closed his eyes. He now let his eyes dart over her face. The cat-like green eyes, the shape of her face - it reminded him of someone he worked with.
Lauren Hunter.
In a flash he remembered. "Ilena?" His voice was just a whisper and it made him cough, gasping with the pain it caused. A layer of sweat had covered his forehead. His eyes were red and watery now with the blind pain he was in.
She heard how his breathing now became raspy, shallower than before.
She simply nodded. "Yes."
Then she repeated "Try not to move. I'm going to hurt you." The woman acted as quick as possible. Careful, she took an end of the sheet in both hands and put it underneath his head. Then, she pulled it downwards as fast as she could.
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NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles
The tiny red dot started moving again on the large screen in front of them. "Three. And twenty-five more minutes," Eric mumbled.
"What's that about?" Nell asked, concentrating on the files she still had on Paul Angelo.
"The GPS. It remained at this spot for three minutes. Then it changed, some sixty feet further. It stayed in there twenty five more minutes. And now it's on the road again," he explained. "I think we should warn the others."
The petite information analyst bit her lower lip, pondering over what her partner just said. "Did you find out more about the location?"
Eric nodded. "Looks like an ordinary street. Detached houses, blablabla."
A short but grim smile appeared on the tiny woman's face. "Inform the others to hurry and check that location rather than trying to catch up with the phone's GPS. If they want to know why – call it gut feeling."
She knew Sam would always trust that feeling.
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Previously - Pushkin Street || Heniches'k
It hurt like hell and Callen frantically tried not to scream. He let out some loud groans and nearly fainted.
As fast as she could, Ilena pulled the ends of the sheet together as tight as she could and tied them together. It should protect him of more air entering the space near his lunge, and hopefully stop the bleeding too. But he needed medical help, soon, she knew."
"Baby-brother. I used to call him baby brother," she started explaining. "Nicolae is now head of the family. And I—" she sniffed and wiped away some tears again. "Last month I came over for to visit Europe for a while. Boaz agreed on joining me when I'd fly back to Venezuela. He had enough with the violence, with breaking the law. We decided to keep it quiet for the others, for the familia. But Nicolae… Perhaps he sensed something. He ordered Boaz to accompany you to Romania. I came with him. Just because. Well, Nicolae didn't trust you. And Boaz knew how to kill, knew how to behave like a Comescu."
Callen heard her talking, tried to concentrate. "How. Why you."
She turned away from him and took a cell phone from her jeans. There was not a word he tried to follow from the conversation she had. He just listened to the rhythm of her voice. Sad, yet determined.
'Baby brother. She just called you baby brother.'
Sadness came over him when he remembered how he learned more about his sister. From the oblivion of a shared history to memories that popped up in matter of seconds, then the realization she was gone forever.
Like Ilena's memories of a beloved one were halted in this empty room.
Like Callen was aware of the fact that perhaps his own memories might stop in here forever too.
Then, Ilena was back with him. "I wanted to help him. His last big test for the familia. And Nicolae warned Boaz about you."
She saw how he struggled with processing the information, the situation. "Yes. I would probably have killed you if you were to hurt Boaz." Her voice sounded softer when she continued. "Now I doubt it. No, I'm sure I wouldn't… This whole thing, this vendetta, it's getting us nowhere."
She squatted next to him, her back against the wall.
"All my life, I never wanted to have anything to do with the nasty business aunt Alexa got the family in. And look where it took me. Where it took you. I never wanted this." Again, she paused. "I called for a Medicom ambulance. They'll arrive soon."
"Then go, Ilena, leave," he panted. He needed to close his eyes for just a while. Maybe the pain would go away.
She noticed how he was slowly slipping into a state of unconsciousness. His blood pressure probably had dropped already. Callen was not sure if it was her cool hand on his face. It might be a cool breeze instead. He faintly heard some words "Fight. Survive."
Then, all got silent in Callen's world. And dark.
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Pushkin Street || Heniches'k
All tensed, he applied the handbrake of the yellow car and watched the house on the left. Sam sighed deeply. This was the place Eric had guided them to. All the way from Los Angeles he told them where to go, which turn to take. Then, Sam sighed deeply. As for now, he was the agent in charge, he addressed the others. "You all still got your weapons?"
Deeks nodded, taking his gun from behind his back. "Put my baby right where it belongs."
Kensi simply held up the gun she had put in her loose booth.
"Really? You know you might've shot your own foot, right?" Deeks twaddled. "Not to mention the bullet might hit something underneath the car—"
"Well, Mr. Deeks, at least it was ready to be drawn whenever necessary," Hetty came to her help. "Now, if you all are ready, I would advise we give it a go."
It made Sam look up, understanding that she was going to take over charge. "Right. Let's go." He opened the car door and managed to get his feet out first. Stiffly he stood up, immediately alert though. All was quiet, no sign of inhabitants, no car, nothing at all. He signed at the others like they always did. He held two fingers up, mentioning at Kensi and Deeks that they should take the back door. Then, he looked at Hetty and gently nodded at her. "Ready for some action?" he asked her.
Her arms straight, next to her petite posture, she looked up at him, pursed her lips shortly, took the knife that Kensi had handed her and responded "Ready to roll, Mr. Hanna."
The unlikely pair of partners hurried over the driveway, Sam always in the front, because no matter what, he was shielding their tiny boss. Getting into the house was easy enough – the front door was ajar. He signed to halt at the older woman. Then, carefully, with his weapon continuously ready, he pushed the door further open.
From farther away, he heard how his younger partners already were inside as well. Their 'clear!' sounded one by one.
Then, in the dark hallway, there was an even darker outline of a person, lying on the floor. Again, Sam signed to wait, wanting to check the situation himself.
He huffed loudly when he recognized the man. "Angelo."
Behind him, he heard how Hetty slowly breathed out and stepped aside the large Navy Seal. "So… Pyotr. We meet again. I see you've met someone of a different caliber."
He hissed in pain, still angry: "You took all that I had, my life. So I took what is most precious in yours, Hetty. That hurts, right?"
Before there was a chance to respond, he heard Deeks yell "Sam, Hetty, in here!"
Then Hetty knew that things had gotten from bad to worse. Sam was already there where she wanted to be – close to the man she considered as the son she never had. And things had gotten from worse to worst – the agent in charge lay on the ground, partly slumped to the wall, unresponsive and with too much blood leaking through a white cloth pulled around his torso. His left hand, also covered in a dirtier cloth, rested on the bloody bandage.
Kensi, paler now, got up from a squatting position. "He's alive. Cold though, and his breathing's to shallow."
"But he got to this one first," Deeks said as he got closer to the other man.
Kensi joined her partner, knowing Hetty and Sam were the ones closest to Callen, and knowing there was nothing they could do right now, right here. She shook her head and pointed at the head wound. "No way. Not Callen's way of shooting. Besides, he did not have any weapons."
She took her phone and took some pictures, then pressed the send-button, adding some words. "Eric and Nell might find out more."
"Angelo did this." Hetty's voice sounded frail now.
Sirens came closer and Sam calmly said "Listen, we've got a crime scene in here, with one dead person and two severe wounded. We're not the ones to explain what happened. All the authorities will notice is a group of four, all four armed and foreigners."
"Our first covers won't withstand," Kensi understood.
Sam nodded. This was not what he envisioned, nor what he really wanted, but she was right. "We need to go and wait outside. Perhaps we can follow the ambulances. Deeks, you check with Eric if he can do that," he decided. Worried for his partner he added "We need to stay close to Callen."
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8 days later || Medicana International, Ankara || Turkey
He faintly picked up some words. "Fighter - Survived."
Callen blinked his eyes several times.
The sunlight came streaming in the room he was in right now. The bare and pale yellow walls made everything look like in a harsh glare, blinding him. He desperately wanted to close his eyes again, until his gaze fell on the outline of a female right in that light, her hair in a ponytail.
"I'm so sorry, Ilena. You have to leave now."
His voice sounded raspy and unexpected and Kensi looked up, surprised by the words as well as with the sudden way Callen spoke. She observed him for just some seconds, without responding. He still looked so vulnerable – and his eyes were closed again.
She didn't understand.
However, there was a sharp inhale of breath which sounded behind her.
"Hetty?"
The older woman shook her head. "Not now dear. I suggest you inform Mr. Hanna and Mr. Deeks that Mr. Callen in here is finally waking up."
She smiled politely at the younger agent, one of the people she loved dearly. Again, Hetty admired how Kensi was concerned about the others of her team.
So far, she, nor the others, had any clue what had happened in the house in Heniches'k. But by these few first words Callen had spoken, things changed.
This, however, was something that she couldn't share with the people of her team. This was something Henrietta Lange needed to check and deal with herself.
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Previously
It had not been difficult to find out where the ambulance was going. And it had not been that difficult for director Vance to decide that staying in the Ukraine was far from safe for a group of American agents. However, getting the lead agent transported to a safer location had been something that needed careful planning.
His condition did not allow flying back to Los Angeles, not yet.
After the first critical days, in which a chest tube was necessary to re-expand Callen's lung, Hetty had Vance arrange a helicopter transport to Turkey.
Now all they could do was wait.
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Medicana International, Ankara || Turkey
"You wanna share?" he asked.
The blue eyes, still not as bright as they used to be, glanced at the large man. "Share what?" Callen asked, reserved.
This happened so many times. The gentle brown eyes of the large man did recognize the behavior. "Right. Forget I even asked G." Then, curious if Callen even knew all what had been going on, Sam added "Did Eric tell you he lost track of Angelo?"
Eric had and it was something that bothered Callen more than he wanted to show. "You think he's back in Russia?" Callen asked. "There was this man—"
"Roslare," Sam interrupted. "We've met. Yeah, Hetty arranged a ticket for the man to join his family in Northumbria. He should be safe, buddy."
In a way it didn't surprise Sam that Callen was worried about other people.
Both men were quiet for a period.
"You should call Mich, tell her we're getting back tomorrow," Callen suggested. Minutes before, Hetty had told them about it. Deeks and Kensi were already in the hotel, packing.
There was nothing wrong with the words the younger man just spoke, yet Sam simply sensed there was something Callen refused to share. Something that might shed a light on whatever it was that he'd gone through. Slowly, Sam rose to his feet. "Be right back, buddy."
Callen heaved a sigh and closed his eyes for just a second.
"She's arrived safely in Southern America, Mr. Callen."
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in the words that were spoken. "How did—" He didn't finish his sentence. Of course Hetty knew. He frowned, then asked "Nell? But if we, if Nell found out, they will too."
Her older hand touched his, firmly yet with affection. A more or less cheeky smile appeared on her face when Hetty replied "They may not, since all that Miss Jones found out, was, how shall I say, altered, moderated, adjusted. Which of course, is what happened Mr. Callen."
There was no need to discuss it. All he did was send her a grateful smile. "Thanks. For all."
She stood up, stretched a bit and turned to the door to leave. "It's about time to go home. This sight-seeing trip wasn't at all what I had expected it to be. You know Mr. Callen, of all the youngsters I trained, there are some who were nearly given up on by whatever system or whatever institute. Others were promising, determined and easy going."
"Like me." He grinned.
"Oh no, you definitely were category 1, Mr. Callen. Yet here we are. With all the detours in your life we end up in here. Saying thank you, while I should be the one to thank you. For coming after me, curious as you are." She saw how he nodded and she continued "Too many times I wanted to give the agents a second chance, or even more. Paul Angelo never wanted to get another chance. He preferred to be jealous, made his decision to sneak out of the system. He hid it quite some time."
"It's not your fault, Hetty."
Her petite arm swayed his way. "This all is, Mr. Callen," she said.
"We all need to get home," Callen answered. "Things may seem differently back there."
She looked away from him, smiled softly and left the room.
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Sam sat in the chair next to his partner's bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and watched how Callen wrestled with his socks and shoes. "You need a hand, G?" he asked.
Callen looked up. "Seriously? Now I know it's time you should be home. Bedtime stories, pancake-sessions, plaiting braids early in the morning... I really can't remember any moment you offered to lace my shoes."
"Too stubborn, as ever." Sam responded. Something had changed since the day before, and it was good.
"It's what they call being independent, big guy." Callen said, getting on his feet. "Besides, what if an agent in charge can't even manage this? I mean, I'm the one who wrestles with paperwork and all."
Deep dimples appeared with the broad smile on Sam's face. "Hey G… Remember what you said, coming back from the time in Atlanta? I thought you mentioned something like how you detested to be a desk jockey."
A slow but all to recognizable smirk appeared on his partner's face. "I'll manage. And I trust you'll be the one picking me up next Monday. Unless, of course, you forgot to make all arrangements with the car repair shop?"
He chuckled. It was good to know things would never change, back home.
~the end~
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