NaNo #26 Aftermath (NCIS:LA)
Nov. 26th, 2011 08:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miss_lucy21This is a story I've been working on off an don since the Season 1 finale. I've edited and added some, so I'm counting it for NaNo. It's part 1, part 2 isn't done yet.
Sam sighed and stretched his neck as he walked up to Hetty’s office. Rough didn’t even begin to describe the past couple of days, and he knew it wasn’t over yet. G may not be willing to admit it, but he was hanging on by his fingernails, and someone was going to have to be there to deal with the crash.
“Ah, Mr. Hanna,” Hetty said, looking up as he approached. “Everything is squared away with our CIA visitor?” She waved her hand at the chair by her desk.
“Yeah, he’s gone. Hopefully he won’t be back,” Sam said as he sat down.
“Good,” she said. “I am taking Mr. Callen off duty tomorrow. Officially, it’s for disobeying orders.”
“But really, you want him to take a day and you know he won’t on his own,” Sam said, nodding.
“Exactly,” Hetty agreed. “Mr. Getz thinks he should not be alone.”
“I already expected to be on G duty,” Sam replied.
Hetty nodded. “I have made arrangements with Dr. Patel to ensure he is not ignoring injuries from the car accident. She’ll be expecting you before 8.”
“Got it,” Sam said, levering himself up.
“You’ll need to go by Forest Lawn Cemetery before you visit the clinic,” Hetty said. Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “Mr. Callen will understand why,” she continued.
“Good enough,” Sam said. “We’ll see you day after tomorrow.”
“If he needs more than one day, I expect you to let me know. And keep him out of here,” Hetty ordered.
“I’ll do my best,” Sam promised. Hetty nodded at him as he left the office.
“Sam!” Nate called as he went to his desk.
“Hey, Nate,” he said, as he started putting things in his bag.
“Are you staying with Callen?” Nate asked, walking up to his desk.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Hetty said you said he shouldn’t be alone.”
“No, he shouldn’t,” Nate agreed. “This was a lot to deal with. And he’s not been coping well to begin with.”
Sam frowned. “He’s been doing ok.”
Nate shook his head. “He looks like it, but today was the first time he’s actually reacted to anything at all since Dom’s death. He’s been burying, not coping. I haven’t been able to get him to sit still long enough to do anything about it.”
“And you’ve had other people to deal with,” Sam said.
Nate shrugged. “That doesn’t excuse anything. You’re all my responsibility.”
“G doesn’t talk unless he’s good and ready. You can’t take responsibility for what he won’t do,” Sam pointed out.
“I know,” Nate sighed tiredly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this was really, really, really bad timing.”
“True,” Sam agreed. “I’ll stay with him.”
“Good,” Nate said.
Kensi came into the room. “You’re still here?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m heading out, and I probably won’t be in tomorrow, ok?” Sam said.
“Sure,” Kensi said. “Everything ok?”
“Yeah, it’s good. I’m gonna make sure G’s ok from that crash, which probably means waking him up all night,” Sam explained.
“Ahh,” Kensi nodded. “I can go get his stuff from the boarding house, if you want,” she offered.
“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Nate said. “I know he’s willing to walk away from his stuff whenever, but having it would probably help.”
“I’m on it,” Kensi said, nodding. “See you later.”
Sam waved as she scooped up her bag and left the room.
They looked up as G came clattering down from Hetty’s office looking thoughtfully at a piece of paper. He stopped short as he saw Sam and Nate standing there.
“What?” he asked, slightly irritably.
“You’re gonna stay with me tonight,” Sam said.
G scowled. “I’m fine.”
“I know. You’re still staying with me,” Sam replied.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Nate added.
“Why?” G demanded.
“Because the past two days have been very traumatic on top of the rough month you were already having,” Nate began, but G interrupted:
“I’m not traumatized!”
“Even if you don’t think you’re traumatized, it’s still been difficult,” Nate replied, calmly. “Do you remember what I told you about how your brain tries to protect itself? About how there’s a rational part of your brain and a protective part of your brain and sometimes the protective part takes over?”
“Yeah,” G said, grudgingly.
“Right now, the rational part of your brain isn’t in charge. That means that you might think something is a good idea when it’s not, which is why I don’t think you should be by yourself tonight,” Nate explained. He took a deep breath and continued. “You have a choice. You can stay with Sam or I can admit you to the hospital.”
“You can’t!” G exclaimed. “I’m not suicidal!”
“I can admit you for observation and evaluation even if you say you aren’t suicidal,” Nate replied shaking his head. “I don’t particularly want to do that, but I’m also not willing to let you walk out of here alone.”
“You’re not playing fair!” G said, angrily.
“No, I’m not. I’m not going to play by your rules when you’re on the edge of a crisis. Not going to do it. Your choices are Sam or the hospital,” Nate said firmly.
G glared at both of them. “Fine,” he said shortly. He reached over and scooped up the new phone Eric had left on his desk and stomped off towards the door. “Are you coming?” he said over his shoulder to Sam.
“Yeah, I’m there,” Sam said, nodding. He glanced at Nate, who gave him a sympathetic smile and a mouthed good luck, and then hustled to catch up with G before he got to the car.
G sat sullenly in the passenger seat as they drove away from Ops. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he said after about ten minutes of driving.
“That’s good, because I don’t see any around here,” Sam replied.
“Hmpf,” G snorted. He sat up a little and looked around. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to your place.”
“Forest Lawn Cemetery,” Sam said, glancing at G from the corner of his eye. “Hetty said you needed to go there?”
“Yeah,” G said, softly. “Yeah, I do.”
“So, that’s where we’re going,” Sam replied.
G was silent again, but seemed more lost in thought than angry. “Thanks,” he said quietly, after a few moments.
“Any time,” Sam said. “I got your back, G, right?”
G nodded, but didn’t say anything. He stared out the window and Sam let him be. When they pulled into the cemetery, he dug into his pocket and handed Sam the slip of paper he’d been carrying earlier. “Here,” he said.
Sam glanced at it and nodded. “How much time do you think you need right now?” he asked.
“What?” G asked, looking at Sam quizzically.
“With whoever you’re visiting,” Sam replied. “How much time do you need alone?”
G shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t…I’ve never done this before,” he admitted.
“How about I give you fifteen?” Sam offered. “Just for right now. I’ll bring you back tomorrow if you want.”
“Ok,” G nodded as Sam pulled up to the closest curb to the grave site listed on the paper.
“Good,” Sam said. “If you’re not back here by then, I’ll come look for you. I’m trusting you, here, G. Stop thinking about giving me the slip, you hear?”
“I wasn’t,” G protested.
“You did,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at his partner. “For a second, at least.”
“Well…yeah. But I wasn’t gonna do it,” G said, reaching for the door handle. “Promise,” he said, looking back at Sam.
“I believe you,” Sam said. “Go on, then.” He watched G get out of the car and start walking up the grass. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment. It was probably too much to ask for G to go down quietly tonight, but he threw up a prayer for that occurrence anyway. He was pretty damn tired himself. His phone beeped a notification and he opened his eyes to see the text from Kensi.
:Got Callen’s stuff. Where should I take it?:
:Ops. He won’t need anything out of it tonight: he replied.
:Sounds good. How’s he doing?:
:He’s hanging in:
:Ok. Let me know if you need anything:
:Will do:
He tucked the phone back into his pocket and looked out towards the gravesites. G was walking back towards the car, frowning. “Hey,” he said as G got in the car. “You ok?”
G nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said, sounding a little spacey.
“Yeah?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” G said.
“Ok,” Sam said. He took a deep breath, knowing his next statement was not going to be well received. “Then you and me have a date with Christa.”
“Huh?” G asked, blinking. “Christa?”
“Dr. Christa Patel? Our friendly patch you up specialist? You do recall being in a car accident today?” Sam asked. He was being mostly rhetorical, but G’s vagueness was a little worrisome.
“Yes,” G said, defensively. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, Hetty’s orders. And you know I’m not gonna go against those,” Sam said, driving out of the cemetery.
G sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He slumped back down in the seat, grumbling to himself. Sam decided ignoring it was probably the best course of action.
When they got to the clinic, he looked at G, who was staring out the window again. They sat there for a minute or two before Sam said, “You know, this will go faster if you actually get out of the car.”
“Huh?” G said, blinking.
“We’re here,” Sam said.
“Oh.” G looked at the clinic. “Right.”
“Come on,” Sam said, getting out of the car. “Quicker we get in there, quicker we can go home.”
G nodded and got out of the car. The waiting room was thankfully deserted. Sam approached the reception desk and smiled at the woman behind the desk. “Hi, Shanae. Hetty called ahead, right?”
“Yup,” Shanae said, smiling. “Dr. Patel is expecting you. Come on back.” She buzzed them back into the office and pointed them towards an exam room. “I’ll go get her.”
“Thanks,” Sam said. He clapped a hand on G’s shoulder and steered him into the exam room. G shrugged off his hand and started pacing around the room. Sam stood back and let him go.
“Hello!” Christa Patel said as she entered the room. “I heard something about a car accident?”
Sam pointed at G. “Him, not me. Flipped the car about 6 hours ago.”
“Well, clearly you walked away,” Christa said, waving a hand at the exam table. “Hop up and let me get some vitals.” G scowled, but stripped off his hoodie and tossed it at Sam before sitting down. “Did you lose consciousness at all?”
“No,” G replied.
“Good,” Christa replied. “Here, open up,” she said, slipping a thermometer under his tongue. “Anything he’s not going to tell me?” she asked, glancing at Sam as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around G’s bicep.
“He’s been a bit spacey,” Sam shrugged as G glared at him.
“Hmm,” Christa said. She glanced at the blood pressure reading. “A little high, but that’s probably to be expected. Temp’s normal, though. Does anything hurt?” she asked, removing the thermometer.
“Not really,” G said.
“G,” Sam said, firmly.
“My head. A little. Maybe,” G shrugged. “But it hurt before the crash. I’m not dizzy or anything.”
“No belly pain, your ribs don’t hurt?” Christa asked, shining a light in his eyes and gently probing the cut along his temple.
G shrugged. “Sore, but nothing’s broken.”
“Well, lean back and let me check you out,” she said. G gave a very put upon sigh and leaned back. Christa poked at him a bit and nodded. “You’re going to hurt like hell in the morning, but I think you’re ok. I’m going to put a steri-stitch over that cut, don’t get it wet.”
“I fucking know how to take care of butterfly stitches,” G snapped. Christa blinked at his outburst.
“It’s been a lousy couple of days,” Sam put in.
“I can tell,” Christa said, dryly. She quickly bandaged the cut. “All right. I’m going to give you some muscle relaxants in case your shoulder or back start to spasm. If you start feeling really bad, call me, ok?”
“I’m fine,” G insisted.
“Of course,” Christa nodded. She turned to unlock a cabinet and pulled out a pill packet. She handed them to Sam. “Because I know giving these to him is useless,” she said, rolling her eyes. “One every 6 hours.”
“Got it,” Sam nodded.
“Ok, get gone,” she said, nodding at G. “Please do not darken my doorstep for at least another six months, mmm’kay?”
G grumbled, Sam smiled, tossed G his hoodie, and said, “Thanks, Christa.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Sam studied G as they walked back to the car. He was pretty pale, but seemed steady enough. Sam knew better than to ask if he was hungry, though. G was stressed enough to revert to old habits tonight; he’d eat if food was offered even if he wasn’t in any condition to do so. Probably the best thing would be to just go home and try to talk G into getting some sleep. Food could wait for the morning.
“Tired?” Sam asked once they were in the car.
“What do you think?” G asked, but there was slightly less heat to the comment than the words implied.
“I think you’re pretty cranky,” Sam said, mildly.
“Mmm,” G mumbled, slumping down in the seat again.
They were pulling into Sam’s driveway when G spoke up again. “You know, if I don’t have a concussion, I don’t need company.”
“Nice try,” Sam replied. “But you’ve still got the company.” G glared at him. Sam ignored it as he parked the car and got out. G was still sitting in the car, looking like a sullen teenager about to pitch a fit that would belie the fact that he was actually forty years old. Sam sighed and opened the door. “Come on.”
“I need my stuff,” G said, looking up at him. Sam knew it was a last ditch effort to delay whatever G thought Sam had in store for him. Sam had no idea what exactly G thought he was going to do, but he also knew that G wasn’t exactly thinking rationally at the moment, either.
“Kensi got it. It’s at Ops,” Sam said, more patiently than he actually felt. “I got stuff you can change into for tonight.”
G seemed to think that over for a moment, then unbuckled he seatbelt and got out of the car.
“Fine,” he said, as he stomped towards the front door. Sam rolled his eyes heavenward and followed.
“I want a shower,” G announced as he watched Sam lock the deadbolt and thread the chain lock.
“Knock yourself out,” Sam said, kicking off his shoes. “You know where the towels are.”
G nodded and walked towards the hallway to Sam’s bedroom and en suite bath. Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to reinforce his patience. Half of this is the PTSD talking and most of the rest is G testing to see if he can make you walk. Which you are not going to do. Even if dropkicking him off the pier sounds *really* good right about now, he thought, with a smirk. He heard the water turn on in the bathroom as he walked down the hall to the bedroom to change his clothes and find some for G. He pulled on shorts and a tshirt and found a set for G that he left on the bed before going back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich.
His phone rang when he was finishing up the first half of his sandwich and he glanced at the caller ID. “Hey, Nate,” he said, picking it up.
“Uh, hi,” Nate said, awkwardly. “I was just calling because I, um, needed to ask you a question. About a file, you know?”
Sam chuckled. “He’s in the shower, Nate. I can talk for a minute.”
“Oh. Good,” Nate replied, sounding more relaxed. “How’s it going?”
“Tell Hetty that Christa’s diagnosis is that he’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but no concussion, nothing broken,” Sam directed.
“That’s good,” Nate said. “I’ll pass it along. What about the rest of it?”
“Eh,” Sam sighed. “He’s swinging between being pissed off and spacey.”
“What do you mean, spacey?” Nate asked, sharply.
“He’s just zoning out a little. He does that when he’s tired,” Sam said, slightly confused.
“Yeah, but he’s not having flashbacks?” Nate asked.
“I don’t think so,” Sam replied. “He’s coming out of it pretty much as soon as I say something to him and he’s not disoriented or anything.”
“Ok, good,” Nate said, sounding relieved. “Keep an eye on that, though. If he stops being as responsive or does get disoriented, let me know, ok? Flashbacks aren’t part of his normal reactions, so if he’s having them, then that’s not a good thing.”
“There’s something about G that’s normal?” Sam asked, half jokingly.
Nate laughed. “Normal for Callen,” he explained. “But I’m serious. I don’t know everything about what happened today and this is the sort of situation that might well involve things that could trigger him. I don’t know all his triggers- hell, I doubt *he* knows them all. So, I want to err on the side of caution.”
“Right,” Sam said slowly. “Just to be sure, what’re we saying is normal?”
“Irritability, nightmares, insomnia, trying to isolate himself,” Nate listed off. “Being unwilling to stay over anywhere but Ops- I know you had him convinced it was safe to stay somewhere else at least a couple nights a week, but he’s going to be glued to the couch again as soon as we let him back in here.”
“Yeah, I figured that,” Sam sighed.
“The paranoia will ramp up. Not that it ever goes away, but he’s going to be jumpy. Some of the institutionalization behaviors might pop up- the food issues, needing to keep the important things on his person at all times, stuff like that,” Nate continued. “That’s all normal- he’s going to melt down and that’s fine. What’s not fine is if he’s flashing back, getting aggressive physically without provocation, showing suicidal ideation, that sort of thing.”
“Good to know,” Sam said. “He’s not doing those things that I’ve seen.”
“Hopefully he won’t,” Nate replied. “I’m not necessarily expecting a real escalation of symptoms. But it *could* happen, and catching it early can make a big difference.”
“Right,” Sam said. He heard the water turn off. “Ok, I got to go.”
“Ok,” Nate replied. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Yup,” Sam said as he hung up. He listened for a moment, but didn’t hear the door to the bathroom open or hear G moving around. “Hey, G?” he called, walking towards the bedroom. No answer. “G!” he said, louder, moving to stand outside the bathroom door. “You ok in there?”
“Sam?” he heard G respond, muffled through the door.
“Who else?” Sam asked. “You need a hand?”
“M-maybe?” came the response.
Sam nodded and tried the door. Of course it was locked. “Ok, hang tight,” he said, reaching up to snag the key from the top of the door frame. He unlocked the door, put the key back and opened it to find G leaning heavily on the sink to keep himself upright. “Adrenaline dropped you, huh?” Sam said, moving to grab G’s arms to keep him from sliding to the floor.
“Y-yeah”, G nodded, his teeth chattering a little. “C-couldn’t st-stand up anymore.”
“I gotcha,” Sam said, reassuringly, moving to grab a towel to wrap around his partner. He got G dried off and maneuvered him out to sit on the bed, where he handed him the clothes. “Think you can get in these yourself?”
G nodded as he managed to pull on the shorts and drag the shirt over his head. “Good,” Sam replied, tossing the covers back on the bed. “Come on, get your head down.”
“I d-don’t need the b-bed,” G stuttered.
“G, you’re taking the bed,” Sam said firmly. “Trust me, you will thank yourself for it in the morning.” There was no way Sam was letting G sleep on the couch after having been in a car accident.
“D-don’t wanna sleep,” G mumbled, even as he moved to lie down.
“I don’t think you’re going to get a choice there,” Sam said, amused. “It’s ok.” He watched G curl up and pulled the covers over him. The room was getting dark as the sun set, so he turned on the lamp on the dresser and turned on the ceiling fan to keep the room more comfortable. He turned back to the bed and found G asleep. “Good,” he murmured as he left the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. He went back to the kitchen, retrieved his sandwich and plopped down on the couch to turn on the television. Finding the Lakers game, he finished his sandwich and stretched out to doze a bit as he watched the game. The last thing Sam remembered thinking before he fell asleep completely was that may have been too easy…
***
A car door slamming outside made Sam jerk awake. The clock on the cable box said it was well after midnight as he turned off the television. He stretched and stood up to go poke his head in on G and make sure he was still sleeping.
When he opened the door carefully, he found G huddled against the headboard, shoulders shaking. “Hey,” he said softly, coming into the room. G jerked upright and looked at Sam, terrified. “It’s ok,” Sam said, gently, holding his hands up. “G, you’re ok.” He went to sit down on the bed, but G shoved back against the headboard at his approach. “Ok, ok,” Sam said, stopping. “You’re safe, it’s fine,” he continued. G had his knees up to his chest with his hands held tightly against his chest. His breath was coming in little gasps and he’d clearly been crying. Sam turned the overhead light on, figuring that more light would help G calm down. He went into the bathroom and got a glass of water and a damp washcloth, telling G the whole time that he was safe, everything was ok. He set the water and the washcloth on the nightstand. G was watching his every move. “It’s ok, man,” he said, nodding to reassure him. “Really.” Sam moved closer to the bed, making sure G could see his hands. He sat down carefully and G didn’t flinch. “See, you’re all right,” Sam said, smiling a little. “It’s all good.”
G blinked rapidly and fisted his hands in his shirt, clearly trying to take a deep breath.
“Easy, G. Just breathe for a minute, ok?” Sam said. He reached out carefully, making sure G could see him move, and put his hands on G’s shoulders. “Easy,” he said, again, as G dropped his chin to his chest.
“You back with me?” he asked, after a moment, gently tilting G’s chin up to see his face. G nodded, and sat back, breathing more easily.
“Good,” Sam said, smiling a little. He reached out and grabbed the washcloth from the nightstand and carefully wiped away the mess of tear tracks on G’s face. “What’s my name?” he asked, figuring that an orientation check might not be a bad idea. He never asked G what his own name was; G was equally as likely to answer with an alias or an “I don’t know” as he was with “G Callen”. Sam figured if he could identify the people around him, that was probably as good as being able to identify himself.
“Sam,” G said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Yup,” Sam said, smiling at him. “You know where you are?” He held out the cup of water and G reached out a shaky hand to grasp it. Sam steadied his hand as he took a sip and handed the cup back.
“Your place,” G whispered again.
“Right,” Sam nodded. “What year’s it?”
“2010,” G replied. He hesitated a moment then said “May. Not sure what day.”
“That’s ok,” Sam said with a chuckle. “You usually aren’t.”
G reached a hand back towards the cup of water. Sam handed it to him and watched as he carefully managed to drink about half of it without spilling it all over himself.
“Nightmare?” Sam asked. G nodded. “You wanna tell me about it?” G shook his head. “Ok,” Sam replied. He took the water back and set the cup on the nightstand. “Let’s get you a clean shirt, huh? You’ll feel better.” G nodded and Sam stood up and got a fresh shirt from the dresser.
G’s face contorted in pain and he bit back a whimper as he tried to raise his arms to pull the damp shirt off. “Here, let me help you,” Sam said. He pulled G’s shirt off in one practiced motion and helped G thread his arms through the sleeves of the new shirt before slipping it over his head. “Your back?”
“Shoulders,” G said.
“Ok,” Sam said nodding. “Let me go get the pills Christa gave you.”
“Don’t want them,” G protested. “They make me fuzzy.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t take them, the spasms will get worse because you’ll keep tensing up and then you’ll be hurting for weeks instead of a day or two,” Sam pointed out.
Frustration creased G’s face and his hands twisted in the bottom of his shirt. “I know. I just…” he tried to shrug and winced. “Ow.”
Sam sighed. “I know you don’t want the drugs, I know you’re frustrated, tired and feeling crappy, and you don’t like any of that.”
“No,” G agreed.
“Do you think you can lie down and go back to sleep without the help?” Sam asked.
G thought for a long moment. “No,” he sighed, finally.
“So, it makes the most sense to take the pills and get some sleep,” Sam replied. “Right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” G sighed.
“Ok, then, what do you want to do?” Sam asked. “I’m not going to force you to take the meds.”
“You’re not?” G asked.
“Nope. Your choice,” Sam replied.
“I didn’t get a choice earlier,” G pointed out.
“No, you had a choice earlier,” Sam said. “You didn’t have to come home with me. You could have let Nate put you in the hospital overnight.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get a choice about going to the clinic,” G said.
“Ok, you’re right. I didn’t give you a choice there because I had orders,” Sam replied.
“Mm,” G said. He sighed again. “All right.”
“All right, you want the pills?” Sam asked.
“I don’t *want* them. But I’ll take them,” G said.
“Ok,” Sam said. He got up from the bed and went out to retrieve the pill packet he’d left on the counter. He popped a pill out of the foil and went back to the bedroom. G had slid down to curl up around the pillow. “Here you go.” G took the pill and washed it down with the rest of the water. “Do you want more water?” Sam asked.
“No,” G said, but he looked hesitant.
“What?” Sam probed.
“Nothing,” G said, looking away.
“Okay,” Sam shrugged, but he knew what G wanted and knew he couldn’t ask for it. He scooped up the washcloth and the cup and took them to the bathroom before coming back in to the bedroom and turning off the overhead light. He went around the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard. “Good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” G said, nodding, looking a little relieved.
“Ok,” Sam replied. “Sleep well.” He picked up his book from the nightstand and started reading in the dim light, glancing down every so often to see if G had fallen asleep yet. About 20 minutes later, he heard G sigh and his shoulders finally relaxed. He smiled a little and drew the covers a little higher before slipping off the bed and out of the room to go crash himself.
***
Sam sighed and stretched his neck as he walked up to Hetty’s office. Rough didn’t even begin to describe the past couple of days, and he knew it wasn’t over yet. G may not be willing to admit it, but he was hanging on by his fingernails, and someone was going to have to be there to deal with the crash.
“Ah, Mr. Hanna,” Hetty said, looking up as he approached. “Everything is squared away with our CIA visitor?” She waved her hand at the chair by her desk.
“Yeah, he’s gone. Hopefully he won’t be back,” Sam said as he sat down.
“Good,” she said. “I am taking Mr. Callen off duty tomorrow. Officially, it’s for disobeying orders.”
“But really, you want him to take a day and you know he won’t on his own,” Sam said, nodding.
“Exactly,” Hetty agreed. “Mr. Getz thinks he should not be alone.”
“I already expected to be on G duty,” Sam replied.
Hetty nodded. “I have made arrangements with Dr. Patel to ensure he is not ignoring injuries from the car accident. She’ll be expecting you before 8.”
“Got it,” Sam said, levering himself up.
“You’ll need to go by Forest Lawn Cemetery before you visit the clinic,” Hetty said. Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “Mr. Callen will understand why,” she continued.
“Good enough,” Sam said. “We’ll see you day after tomorrow.”
“If he needs more than one day, I expect you to let me know. And keep him out of here,” Hetty ordered.
“I’ll do my best,” Sam promised. Hetty nodded at him as he left the office.
“Sam!” Nate called as he went to his desk.
“Hey, Nate,” he said, as he started putting things in his bag.
“Are you staying with Callen?” Nate asked, walking up to his desk.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Hetty said you said he shouldn’t be alone.”
“No, he shouldn’t,” Nate agreed. “This was a lot to deal with. And he’s not been coping well to begin with.”
Sam frowned. “He’s been doing ok.”
Nate shook his head. “He looks like it, but today was the first time he’s actually reacted to anything at all since Dom’s death. He’s been burying, not coping. I haven’t been able to get him to sit still long enough to do anything about it.”
“And you’ve had other people to deal with,” Sam said.
Nate shrugged. “That doesn’t excuse anything. You’re all my responsibility.”
“G doesn’t talk unless he’s good and ready. You can’t take responsibility for what he won’t do,” Sam pointed out.
“I know,” Nate sighed tiredly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this was really, really, really bad timing.”
“True,” Sam agreed. “I’ll stay with him.”
“Good,” Nate said.
Kensi came into the room. “You’re still here?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m heading out, and I probably won’t be in tomorrow, ok?” Sam said.
“Sure,” Kensi said. “Everything ok?”
“Yeah, it’s good. I’m gonna make sure G’s ok from that crash, which probably means waking him up all night,” Sam explained.
“Ahh,” Kensi nodded. “I can go get his stuff from the boarding house, if you want,” she offered.
“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Nate said. “I know he’s willing to walk away from his stuff whenever, but having it would probably help.”
“I’m on it,” Kensi said, nodding. “See you later.”
Sam waved as she scooped up her bag and left the room.
They looked up as G came clattering down from Hetty’s office looking thoughtfully at a piece of paper. He stopped short as he saw Sam and Nate standing there.
“What?” he asked, slightly irritably.
“You’re gonna stay with me tonight,” Sam said.
G scowled. “I’m fine.”
“I know. You’re still staying with me,” Sam replied.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Nate added.
“Why?” G demanded.
“Because the past two days have been very traumatic on top of the rough month you were already having,” Nate began, but G interrupted:
“I’m not traumatized!”
“Even if you don’t think you’re traumatized, it’s still been difficult,” Nate replied, calmly. “Do you remember what I told you about how your brain tries to protect itself? About how there’s a rational part of your brain and a protective part of your brain and sometimes the protective part takes over?”
“Yeah,” G said, grudgingly.
“Right now, the rational part of your brain isn’t in charge. That means that you might think something is a good idea when it’s not, which is why I don’t think you should be by yourself tonight,” Nate explained. He took a deep breath and continued. “You have a choice. You can stay with Sam or I can admit you to the hospital.”
“You can’t!” G exclaimed. “I’m not suicidal!”
“I can admit you for observation and evaluation even if you say you aren’t suicidal,” Nate replied shaking his head. “I don’t particularly want to do that, but I’m also not willing to let you walk out of here alone.”
“You’re not playing fair!” G said, angrily.
“No, I’m not. I’m not going to play by your rules when you’re on the edge of a crisis. Not going to do it. Your choices are Sam or the hospital,” Nate said firmly.
G glared at both of them. “Fine,” he said shortly. He reached over and scooped up the new phone Eric had left on his desk and stomped off towards the door. “Are you coming?” he said over his shoulder to Sam.
“Yeah, I’m there,” Sam said, nodding. He glanced at Nate, who gave him a sympathetic smile and a mouthed good luck, and then hustled to catch up with G before he got to the car.
G sat sullenly in the passenger seat as they drove away from Ops. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he said after about ten minutes of driving.
“That’s good, because I don’t see any around here,” Sam replied.
“Hmpf,” G snorted. He sat up a little and looked around. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to your place.”
“Forest Lawn Cemetery,” Sam said, glancing at G from the corner of his eye. “Hetty said you needed to go there?”
“Yeah,” G said, softly. “Yeah, I do.”
“So, that’s where we’re going,” Sam replied.
G was silent again, but seemed more lost in thought than angry. “Thanks,” he said quietly, after a few moments.
“Any time,” Sam said. “I got your back, G, right?”
G nodded, but didn’t say anything. He stared out the window and Sam let him be. When they pulled into the cemetery, he dug into his pocket and handed Sam the slip of paper he’d been carrying earlier. “Here,” he said.
Sam glanced at it and nodded. “How much time do you think you need right now?” he asked.
“What?” G asked, looking at Sam quizzically.
“With whoever you’re visiting,” Sam replied. “How much time do you need alone?”
G shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t…I’ve never done this before,” he admitted.
“How about I give you fifteen?” Sam offered. “Just for right now. I’ll bring you back tomorrow if you want.”
“Ok,” G nodded as Sam pulled up to the closest curb to the grave site listed on the paper.
“Good,” Sam said. “If you’re not back here by then, I’ll come look for you. I’m trusting you, here, G. Stop thinking about giving me the slip, you hear?”
“I wasn’t,” G protested.
“You did,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at his partner. “For a second, at least.”
“Well…yeah. But I wasn’t gonna do it,” G said, reaching for the door handle. “Promise,” he said, looking back at Sam.
“I believe you,” Sam said. “Go on, then.” He watched G get out of the car and start walking up the grass. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment. It was probably too much to ask for G to go down quietly tonight, but he threw up a prayer for that occurrence anyway. He was pretty damn tired himself. His phone beeped a notification and he opened his eyes to see the text from Kensi.
:Got Callen’s stuff. Where should I take it?:
:Ops. He won’t need anything out of it tonight: he replied.
:Sounds good. How’s he doing?:
:He’s hanging in:
:Ok. Let me know if you need anything:
:Will do:
He tucked the phone back into his pocket and looked out towards the gravesites. G was walking back towards the car, frowning. “Hey,” he said as G got in the car. “You ok?”
G nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said, sounding a little spacey.
“Yeah?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” G said.
“Ok,” Sam said. He took a deep breath, knowing his next statement was not going to be well received. “Then you and me have a date with Christa.”
“Huh?” G asked, blinking. “Christa?”
“Dr. Christa Patel? Our friendly patch you up specialist? You do recall being in a car accident today?” Sam asked. He was being mostly rhetorical, but G’s vagueness was a little worrisome.
“Yes,” G said, defensively. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, Hetty’s orders. And you know I’m not gonna go against those,” Sam said, driving out of the cemetery.
G sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He slumped back down in the seat, grumbling to himself. Sam decided ignoring it was probably the best course of action.
When they got to the clinic, he looked at G, who was staring out the window again. They sat there for a minute or two before Sam said, “You know, this will go faster if you actually get out of the car.”
“Huh?” G said, blinking.
“We’re here,” Sam said.
“Oh.” G looked at the clinic. “Right.”
“Come on,” Sam said, getting out of the car. “Quicker we get in there, quicker we can go home.”
G nodded and got out of the car. The waiting room was thankfully deserted. Sam approached the reception desk and smiled at the woman behind the desk. “Hi, Shanae. Hetty called ahead, right?”
“Yup,” Shanae said, smiling. “Dr. Patel is expecting you. Come on back.” She buzzed them back into the office and pointed them towards an exam room. “I’ll go get her.”
“Thanks,” Sam said. He clapped a hand on G’s shoulder and steered him into the exam room. G shrugged off his hand and started pacing around the room. Sam stood back and let him go.
“Hello!” Christa Patel said as she entered the room. “I heard something about a car accident?”
Sam pointed at G. “Him, not me. Flipped the car about 6 hours ago.”
“Well, clearly you walked away,” Christa said, waving a hand at the exam table. “Hop up and let me get some vitals.” G scowled, but stripped off his hoodie and tossed it at Sam before sitting down. “Did you lose consciousness at all?”
“No,” G replied.
“Good,” Christa replied. “Here, open up,” she said, slipping a thermometer under his tongue. “Anything he’s not going to tell me?” she asked, glancing at Sam as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around G’s bicep.
“He’s been a bit spacey,” Sam shrugged as G glared at him.
“Hmm,” Christa said. She glanced at the blood pressure reading. “A little high, but that’s probably to be expected. Temp’s normal, though. Does anything hurt?” she asked, removing the thermometer.
“Not really,” G said.
“G,” Sam said, firmly.
“My head. A little. Maybe,” G shrugged. “But it hurt before the crash. I’m not dizzy or anything.”
“No belly pain, your ribs don’t hurt?” Christa asked, shining a light in his eyes and gently probing the cut along his temple.
G shrugged. “Sore, but nothing’s broken.”
“Well, lean back and let me check you out,” she said. G gave a very put upon sigh and leaned back. Christa poked at him a bit and nodded. “You’re going to hurt like hell in the morning, but I think you’re ok. I’m going to put a steri-stitch over that cut, don’t get it wet.”
“I fucking know how to take care of butterfly stitches,” G snapped. Christa blinked at his outburst.
“It’s been a lousy couple of days,” Sam put in.
“I can tell,” Christa said, dryly. She quickly bandaged the cut. “All right. I’m going to give you some muscle relaxants in case your shoulder or back start to spasm. If you start feeling really bad, call me, ok?”
“I’m fine,” G insisted.
“Of course,” Christa nodded. She turned to unlock a cabinet and pulled out a pill packet. She handed them to Sam. “Because I know giving these to him is useless,” she said, rolling her eyes. “One every 6 hours.”
“Got it,” Sam nodded.
“Ok, get gone,” she said, nodding at G. “Please do not darken my doorstep for at least another six months, mmm’kay?”
G grumbled, Sam smiled, tossed G his hoodie, and said, “Thanks, Christa.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Sam studied G as they walked back to the car. He was pretty pale, but seemed steady enough. Sam knew better than to ask if he was hungry, though. G was stressed enough to revert to old habits tonight; he’d eat if food was offered even if he wasn’t in any condition to do so. Probably the best thing would be to just go home and try to talk G into getting some sleep. Food could wait for the morning.
“Tired?” Sam asked once they were in the car.
“What do you think?” G asked, but there was slightly less heat to the comment than the words implied.
“I think you’re pretty cranky,” Sam said, mildly.
“Mmm,” G mumbled, slumping down in the seat again.
They were pulling into Sam’s driveway when G spoke up again. “You know, if I don’t have a concussion, I don’t need company.”
“Nice try,” Sam replied. “But you’ve still got the company.” G glared at him. Sam ignored it as he parked the car and got out. G was still sitting in the car, looking like a sullen teenager about to pitch a fit that would belie the fact that he was actually forty years old. Sam sighed and opened the door. “Come on.”
“I need my stuff,” G said, looking up at him. Sam knew it was a last ditch effort to delay whatever G thought Sam had in store for him. Sam had no idea what exactly G thought he was going to do, but he also knew that G wasn’t exactly thinking rationally at the moment, either.
“Kensi got it. It’s at Ops,” Sam said, more patiently than he actually felt. “I got stuff you can change into for tonight.”
G seemed to think that over for a moment, then unbuckled he seatbelt and got out of the car.
“Fine,” he said, as he stomped towards the front door. Sam rolled his eyes heavenward and followed.
“I want a shower,” G announced as he watched Sam lock the deadbolt and thread the chain lock.
“Knock yourself out,” Sam said, kicking off his shoes. “You know where the towels are.”
G nodded and walked towards the hallway to Sam’s bedroom and en suite bath. Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to reinforce his patience. Half of this is the PTSD talking and most of the rest is G testing to see if he can make you walk. Which you are not going to do. Even if dropkicking him off the pier sounds *really* good right about now, he thought, with a smirk. He heard the water turn on in the bathroom as he walked down the hall to the bedroom to change his clothes and find some for G. He pulled on shorts and a tshirt and found a set for G that he left on the bed before going back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich.
His phone rang when he was finishing up the first half of his sandwich and he glanced at the caller ID. “Hey, Nate,” he said, picking it up.
“Uh, hi,” Nate said, awkwardly. “I was just calling because I, um, needed to ask you a question. About a file, you know?”
Sam chuckled. “He’s in the shower, Nate. I can talk for a minute.”
“Oh. Good,” Nate replied, sounding more relaxed. “How’s it going?”
“Tell Hetty that Christa’s diagnosis is that he’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but no concussion, nothing broken,” Sam directed.
“That’s good,” Nate said. “I’ll pass it along. What about the rest of it?”
“Eh,” Sam sighed. “He’s swinging between being pissed off and spacey.”
“What do you mean, spacey?” Nate asked, sharply.
“He’s just zoning out a little. He does that when he’s tired,” Sam said, slightly confused.
“Yeah, but he’s not having flashbacks?” Nate asked.
“I don’t think so,” Sam replied. “He’s coming out of it pretty much as soon as I say something to him and he’s not disoriented or anything.”
“Ok, good,” Nate said, sounding relieved. “Keep an eye on that, though. If he stops being as responsive or does get disoriented, let me know, ok? Flashbacks aren’t part of his normal reactions, so if he’s having them, then that’s not a good thing.”
“There’s something about G that’s normal?” Sam asked, half jokingly.
Nate laughed. “Normal for Callen,” he explained. “But I’m serious. I don’t know everything about what happened today and this is the sort of situation that might well involve things that could trigger him. I don’t know all his triggers- hell, I doubt *he* knows them all. So, I want to err on the side of caution.”
“Right,” Sam said slowly. “Just to be sure, what’re we saying is normal?”
“Irritability, nightmares, insomnia, trying to isolate himself,” Nate listed off. “Being unwilling to stay over anywhere but Ops- I know you had him convinced it was safe to stay somewhere else at least a couple nights a week, but he’s going to be glued to the couch again as soon as we let him back in here.”
“Yeah, I figured that,” Sam sighed.
“The paranoia will ramp up. Not that it ever goes away, but he’s going to be jumpy. Some of the institutionalization behaviors might pop up- the food issues, needing to keep the important things on his person at all times, stuff like that,” Nate continued. “That’s all normal- he’s going to melt down and that’s fine. What’s not fine is if he’s flashing back, getting aggressive physically without provocation, showing suicidal ideation, that sort of thing.”
“Good to know,” Sam said. “He’s not doing those things that I’ve seen.”
“Hopefully he won’t,” Nate replied. “I’m not necessarily expecting a real escalation of symptoms. But it *could* happen, and catching it early can make a big difference.”
“Right,” Sam said. He heard the water turn off. “Ok, I got to go.”
“Ok,” Nate replied. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Yup,” Sam said as he hung up. He listened for a moment, but didn’t hear the door to the bathroom open or hear G moving around. “Hey, G?” he called, walking towards the bedroom. No answer. “G!” he said, louder, moving to stand outside the bathroom door. “You ok in there?”
“Sam?” he heard G respond, muffled through the door.
“Who else?” Sam asked. “You need a hand?”
“M-maybe?” came the response.
Sam nodded and tried the door. Of course it was locked. “Ok, hang tight,” he said, reaching up to snag the key from the top of the door frame. He unlocked the door, put the key back and opened it to find G leaning heavily on the sink to keep himself upright. “Adrenaline dropped you, huh?” Sam said, moving to grab G’s arms to keep him from sliding to the floor.
“Y-yeah”, G nodded, his teeth chattering a little. “C-couldn’t st-stand up anymore.”
“I gotcha,” Sam said, reassuringly, moving to grab a towel to wrap around his partner. He got G dried off and maneuvered him out to sit on the bed, where he handed him the clothes. “Think you can get in these yourself?”
G nodded as he managed to pull on the shorts and drag the shirt over his head. “Good,” Sam replied, tossing the covers back on the bed. “Come on, get your head down.”
“I d-don’t need the b-bed,” G stuttered.
“G, you’re taking the bed,” Sam said firmly. “Trust me, you will thank yourself for it in the morning.” There was no way Sam was letting G sleep on the couch after having been in a car accident.
“D-don’t wanna sleep,” G mumbled, even as he moved to lie down.
“I don’t think you’re going to get a choice there,” Sam said, amused. “It’s ok.” He watched G curl up and pulled the covers over him. The room was getting dark as the sun set, so he turned on the lamp on the dresser and turned on the ceiling fan to keep the room more comfortable. He turned back to the bed and found G asleep. “Good,” he murmured as he left the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. He went back to the kitchen, retrieved his sandwich and plopped down on the couch to turn on the television. Finding the Lakers game, he finished his sandwich and stretched out to doze a bit as he watched the game. The last thing Sam remembered thinking before he fell asleep completely was that may have been too easy…
***
A car door slamming outside made Sam jerk awake. The clock on the cable box said it was well after midnight as he turned off the television. He stretched and stood up to go poke his head in on G and make sure he was still sleeping.
When he opened the door carefully, he found G huddled against the headboard, shoulders shaking. “Hey,” he said softly, coming into the room. G jerked upright and looked at Sam, terrified. “It’s ok,” Sam said, gently, holding his hands up. “G, you’re ok.” He went to sit down on the bed, but G shoved back against the headboard at his approach. “Ok, ok,” Sam said, stopping. “You’re safe, it’s fine,” he continued. G had his knees up to his chest with his hands held tightly against his chest. His breath was coming in little gasps and he’d clearly been crying. Sam turned the overhead light on, figuring that more light would help G calm down. He went into the bathroom and got a glass of water and a damp washcloth, telling G the whole time that he was safe, everything was ok. He set the water and the washcloth on the nightstand. G was watching his every move. “It’s ok, man,” he said, nodding to reassure him. “Really.” Sam moved closer to the bed, making sure G could see his hands. He sat down carefully and G didn’t flinch. “See, you’re all right,” Sam said, smiling a little. “It’s all good.”
G blinked rapidly and fisted his hands in his shirt, clearly trying to take a deep breath.
“Easy, G. Just breathe for a minute, ok?” Sam said. He reached out carefully, making sure G could see him move, and put his hands on G’s shoulders. “Easy,” he said, again, as G dropped his chin to his chest.
“You back with me?” he asked, after a moment, gently tilting G’s chin up to see his face. G nodded, and sat back, breathing more easily.
“Good,” Sam said, smiling a little. He reached out and grabbed the washcloth from the nightstand and carefully wiped away the mess of tear tracks on G’s face. “What’s my name?” he asked, figuring that an orientation check might not be a bad idea. He never asked G what his own name was; G was equally as likely to answer with an alias or an “I don’t know” as he was with “G Callen”. Sam figured if he could identify the people around him, that was probably as good as being able to identify himself.
“Sam,” G said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Yup,” Sam said, smiling at him. “You know where you are?” He held out the cup of water and G reached out a shaky hand to grasp it. Sam steadied his hand as he took a sip and handed the cup back.
“Your place,” G whispered again.
“Right,” Sam nodded. “What year’s it?”
“2010,” G replied. He hesitated a moment then said “May. Not sure what day.”
“That’s ok,” Sam said with a chuckle. “You usually aren’t.”
G reached a hand back towards the cup of water. Sam handed it to him and watched as he carefully managed to drink about half of it without spilling it all over himself.
“Nightmare?” Sam asked. G nodded. “You wanna tell me about it?” G shook his head. “Ok,” Sam replied. He took the water back and set the cup on the nightstand. “Let’s get you a clean shirt, huh? You’ll feel better.” G nodded and Sam stood up and got a fresh shirt from the dresser.
G’s face contorted in pain and he bit back a whimper as he tried to raise his arms to pull the damp shirt off. “Here, let me help you,” Sam said. He pulled G’s shirt off in one practiced motion and helped G thread his arms through the sleeves of the new shirt before slipping it over his head. “Your back?”
“Shoulders,” G said.
“Ok,” Sam said nodding. “Let me go get the pills Christa gave you.”
“Don’t want them,” G protested. “They make me fuzzy.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t take them, the spasms will get worse because you’ll keep tensing up and then you’ll be hurting for weeks instead of a day or two,” Sam pointed out.
Frustration creased G’s face and his hands twisted in the bottom of his shirt. “I know. I just…” he tried to shrug and winced. “Ow.”
Sam sighed. “I know you don’t want the drugs, I know you’re frustrated, tired and feeling crappy, and you don’t like any of that.”
“No,” G agreed.
“Do you think you can lie down and go back to sleep without the help?” Sam asked.
G thought for a long moment. “No,” he sighed, finally.
“So, it makes the most sense to take the pills and get some sleep,” Sam replied. “Right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” G sighed.
“Ok, then, what do you want to do?” Sam asked. “I’m not going to force you to take the meds.”
“You’re not?” G asked.
“Nope. Your choice,” Sam replied.
“I didn’t get a choice earlier,” G pointed out.
“No, you had a choice earlier,” Sam said. “You didn’t have to come home with me. You could have let Nate put you in the hospital overnight.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get a choice about going to the clinic,” G said.
“Ok, you’re right. I didn’t give you a choice there because I had orders,” Sam replied.
“Mm,” G said. He sighed again. “All right.”
“All right, you want the pills?” Sam asked.
“I don’t *want* them. But I’ll take them,” G said.
“Ok,” Sam said. He got up from the bed and went out to retrieve the pill packet he’d left on the counter. He popped a pill out of the foil and went back to the bedroom. G had slid down to curl up around the pillow. “Here you go.” G took the pill and washed it down with the rest of the water. “Do you want more water?” Sam asked.
“No,” G said, but he looked hesitant.
“What?” Sam probed.
“Nothing,” G said, looking away.
“Okay,” Sam shrugged, but he knew what G wanted and knew he couldn’t ask for it. He scooped up the washcloth and the cup and took them to the bathroom before coming back in to the bedroom and turning off the overhead light. He went around the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard. “Good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” G said, nodding, looking a little relieved.
“Ok,” Sam replied. “Sleep well.” He picked up his book from the nightstand and started reading in the dim light, glancing down every so often to see if G had fallen asleep yet. About 20 minutes later, he heard G sigh and his shoulders finally relaxed. He smiled a little and drew the covers a little higher before slipping off the bed and out of the room to go crash himself.
***