AN: I own nothing, though I made up a few characters to help this along. It's Callen/Nell, as I'm incapable of writing anything else for this show. This was supposed to be a one-shot and it got too long, so now it's two parts.

XXXXXX

"Catch."

Nell looked up from her computer in time to grab the phone Callen tossed her way. "Not again," she sighed, checking the screen. "You've locked yourself out three times this month."

"I resent that accusation. There's clearly something wrong with it."

She punched in his code and the screen blinked a few times before going completely black. "Yeah, the problem is definitely the phone, not its user."

He gave her chair a light shove and she caught herself on the desk before it could roll too far.

"Keep it up," she said, tone sweetly threatening.

"Or what?" he asked, not sounding concerned in the slightest.

"Or…something you won't like," she said vaguely, distracted enough by the phone that she wasn't paying much attention to his question.

"I doubt there's anything you could do to me that I wouldn't like," he said, easily.

When she glanced at him, his grin was far too wide. "Is that a challenge? I think you've inspired me."

He grabbed a chair and pulled it over to wait while she worked. "I could only hope."

She waited until he sat down and then gave his chair a kick of her own, sending him right into the back of Eric's chair.

"Sorry," Callen offered, "that was Nell."

Eric said nothing, though he made a point to shake his head at them in disapproval before moving across the room to hopefully work unencumbered.

Nell went back to the cell phone which she'd restarted. "I'd work faster if you weren't –"

"Helping?"

"– bothering me."

He ignored that. "I swear I've been putting in the code right. I think someone is changing it on me. I blame Deeks."

"You let him have access to it?" she asked, as she tried to bypass the main screen.

"No, you're right, I haven't. At least that I'm aware. Maybe he's doing it remotely?"

"I think he has better things to do than…" she trailed off as she thought about it. "Never mind, it's entirely possible he'd devote that much time to screwing with you."

Callen spun back and forth in his chair, too restless to stay still for long. "So you admit it's not my fault? Back me up here, Eric. You heard her."

Eric kept on pretending they weren't in the room.

"I never said that," Nell argued. "Though if Deeks is behind this, I can't say you wouldn't deserve it, either."

"Whatever happened to loyalty?" Callen announced to the room at large. A few people looked over, but no one answered him. "Anyone? Come on!"

Eric could stay quiet no longer as he swiveled his chair to face Callen. "You stole his car."

"I moved his car."

"Three blocks over," Eric said. "He should have had you arrested."

"There's that lack of loyalty again," Callen admonished. "In my defense, it was after he swapped our desks in the bullpen so he could sit next to Kensi. You know how much I hate people touching my things."

"Yeah," Nell stifled a sigh, "letting him think his car had been stolen was an entirely rational response on your part."

"Harmless prank wars," Callen said, shrugging off their censure. "Besides, Hetty made us stop. Though if you're confirming that he did something to my phone…"

Nell shook the phone in frustration and wondered if throwing it to the floor would be as effective as anything she'd tried thus far. "No, I think this is entirely you and my proof is all the times you've done it before. Maybe I can reset it."

"That'll take forever," he complained. "It's easier to give me a new one."

"This is a new one. I gave it to you last month when you destroyed your previous brand-new phone."

He narrowed his eyes at her; she knew that had been an accident. "They're supposed to be water-proof. Why label them that way if they aren't?"

"They're 'water-resistant' and that doesn't cover jumping into the ocean."

"The guy we were after dove off his yacht! And of course the moron couldn't swim – how is that my fault?"

She took the battery out. "Give me a minute and I'm sure I'll find a way to blame you."

"I suppose I could have let him drown," he said thoughtfully, as if it might have been a viable alternative. "There were a lot of witnesses, though. Tell you what, next time a similar situation arises, I'll shove Sam in first."

She shot him her patented 'I'm-highly-amused-but-it's-not-professional-to-admit-it' look. He loved that look so much that he kept score of how often he earned it (third time so far that week, he definitely had a knack for bringing it out in her). Equally enjoyable was the predictable backtracking she always employed immediately thereafter.

"While you're here, Agent Callen," she began, as he mentally checked off her serious tone and the way she formally addressed him, "the assistant director flagged your last expense report."

Callen was pretty sure Granger had flagged more of his paperwork in the past five years than he had from everyone else in the building – combined. "What is it this time?"

"You're going through too many phones," she said pleasantly, no doubt feeling validated.

"Phones hate me, Nell. Or maybe it's Granger that hates me. Probably both."

"I'm supposed to talk to you about 'proper cell phone management'." She didn't have to look at him to know the expression she'd find on his face. "No, this is not a joke."

"I never thought Granger would pass up an opportunity to berate me himself. If he has you doing it then maybe he's losing his touch."

"Or maybe I simply can't take you anymore, Agent Callen," Granger said from behind them as he walked into Ops.

Callen spun around in the chair to face the assistant director. "That would have been my next guess."

Granger turned to their youngest team member. "I have an assignment for you, Jones. Are you busy?" In lieu of an answer, she held up Callen's phone that she was in the middle of putting back together.

Granger's subsequent look at Callen spoke volumes.

"Not my fault. I think it's been sabotaged, sir. And wait, how do you even know that's mine?"

Granger pressed his fingers to his temples and then motioned for Nell to pass it to Eric. She slid the phone (in several pieces) over to Eric's work station as Callen told Eric that he shouldn't stress himself out trying to fix it and should just get him a new one instead.

"As you were probably aware," Granger was telling Nell, "Agent Talbot was supposed to get her cast off today. Unfortunately, her doctor said she's not fully healed which means she's stuck on desk duty for another few weeks." Somehow, the assistant director made it sound as if Talbot had deliberately broken her ankle to spite him.

"She must be annoyed," Nell murmured, making a note to get some flowers to cheer her up. She rather liked Katie Talbot and was friendly with her around work.

"Talbot?" Callen asked, as if he were part of their conversation, too.

"Katherine Talbot," Nell said, as Callen looked at her blankly. "Katie?"

Callen thought he knew who she meant, though people moved in and out of the building among different teams often enough that he wasn't entirely sure. "Oh, yeah. Katie. She's blonde, right?"

"Brunette."

"That's what I meant to say."

"She transferred to Everett's team from San Francisco –"

"That explains it."

"– a year ago," Nell finished dryly. "And don't pretend you don't know Jason Everett."

"Of course I know him, I think I said hi to him once a couple years back," Callen told her. Off Nell's look, he grinned and dropped his clueless act. "I helped vet him when he came over from the FBI." He turned back to Granger. "You're welcome for that, by the way."

"Yes, we're very grateful when you agree to do your job, Agent Callen," Granger sighed. "Perhaps you could branch out someday and get to know people outside of your team?"

"Respectfully, sir, that goes against my long-term goal of ensuring that people bother me as little as possible. My own team harasses me enough."

Nell marveled at his ability to spin reality in his favor. "Yes, that's usually how it goes. We harass you, and never the other way around."

He smirked at her. "Hey, I didn't say I'm not a fan of your harassment, given the right circumstances."

Granger made the decision to forge on, because if he didn't, he'd get sucked into a black hole of Callen wanting to debate what did or did not constitute workplace harassment, and he refused to waste an hour of his life. (He also wanted to live long enough to enjoy his retirement and he suspected Callen was the only agent in the building who could actually kill him just by talking – the M.E. would list his cause of death as 'exasperation', the first and only known case in the country.)

"Everett's been able to get by with Talbot on desk duty until now, but his team's been working the recent string of bank robberies in the L.A. area and we suspect they might have terrorist connections. I need you to assist on this one, Jones."

"You what?" Callen abruptly sat up straighter in his chair. "You're taking Nell off my team?"

"Temporarily," Granger confirmed, "unless Nell proves herself indispensable with Everett and the others, in which case a more permanent position might be considered."

"You know my thoughts on that, sir," Nell told him, uneasily. The last thing she wanted was him or Everett making decisions about her life.

"I'm aware, but I don't have to remind you that it's my responsibility to assign agents wherever they're needed. That's not to say that I don't value their input and take their wishes into account. To an extent."

"Of course, sir." Nell didn't feel particularly reassured.

"Jones, before you start thinking I'm some evil dictator who wants everyone around me to suffer –" Granger glanced at Eric who'd started coughing uncontrollably, "– you should know that you'll be expected to accompany Everett's team into the field. I know you've spoken with Hetty about wanting those opportunities more consistently."

Nell hadn't considered the fact that Katie Talbot was both an analyst and a field agent depending on what her team needed for any particular case. Nell could perform both jobs as well, which was probably why Granger had chosen her to fill in, and they must have confidence in her abilities to offer her the role. The long list of protests she'd been putting together evaporated.

"Your performance could have a significant impact on your future here at NCIS," Granger continued.

"Yes, sir. I won't let you down."

"Good. Meet us in the conference room in ten minutes and we'll get you situated."

Once Granger left, Eric tried his best to remain optimistic. "I'm happy for you, Nell. You'll have the chance to prove yourself to Granger, and even the director himself."

"Yeah, I will," she agreed, failing to sound as enthusiastic as she'd intended. This wasn't happening the way she'd wanted – with her own team.

She tried to gauge what Callen thought. He could be notoriously hard to read, though she'd gotten better at it over the years. This time his face betrayed nothing, and out of everything that had happened, it was his lack of reaction that bothered her the most.

"Let me guess," she lowered her voice so no one could overhear, "you don't think this is the best idea?"

No, he didn't, and he'd been prepared to fight Granger on it, but that was before their boss had mentioned going into the field – and before he'd seen Nell quietly decide not to argue the move. He wouldn't try to take the opportunity from her; he wasn't that selfish (even if he desperately wanted to be). "What you do is your choice. Don't mistake that to mean that I wouldn't fight like hell to keep you."

His promise made her feel infinitely better, even as the reality of the situation set in and a few old doubts began to resurface. "What I want doesn't matter much if things don't go well," she said carefully, hoping her tone masked her true insecurity. There was a high level of comfort with her team, spending every day with people who knew her extremely well. Thus far, whenever she'd gone into the field, it had always been with one of them; she knew she could count on them without question. The thought of doing the same with people she didn't know as well was a bit more challenging. (And that wasn't even considering that it came with the added pressure of wanting to impress a new team, especially when they'd be reporting on her to Granger.)

Callen saw her nervousness, the hint of self-doubt mixed in with it. He couldn't blame her; he'd be on edge, too, if his job description suddenly changed and he had to work with different people on top of it. He reached over to squeeze her hand lightly in quiet reassurance. "You'll do great with Everett."

"You think?"

He was glad that the hopefulness had returned to her voice. "I know."

"What are you going to do without me?" she joked. "Guess you'll have to be extra careful with your phone for a few weeks."

He smiled a little at that, but when he met her eyes, his no longer held any traces of humor. "You are far more to us than someone who fixes all the things that we break."

She swallowed around a sudden ache in the back of her throat. "Okay."

"Get going before Granger tracks you down and then blames me for keeping you."

"He would," she agreed, on her way out the door.

"What are we going to do without her?" Eric asked, somewhat morosely.

Callen stared at the remnants of his phone on the desk. He didn't answer Eric because he honestly had no idea.

XXXXXX

Jason Everett had been at NCIS for five years. He was 42, unmarried, and a decorated agent. In fact, Callen would be hard-pressed to find anything wrong with him – and he'd certainly tried when they were vetting him. The truth was that Everett was an all-around great guy who loved his job, his team, and even got along fantastically with Granger (which in Callen's opinion was the closest thing he had to a character flaw).

Two days after Nell moved to Everett's team, Callen decided that maybe he should get to know his co-workers better (thanks, Granger) and took it upon himself to visit the other side of the building.

"Hey, Callen." Everett waved at him from the nearby coffee machine, more cheerful than anyone had a right to be at nine in the morning. "Are you lost? I never see you over here."

"There's a reason for that," Callen informed him. Everett's side of the building was uncanny; it was essentially a mirror image of Callen's own side. Since everything looked how it should, but reversed, it made Callen feel as if something was off and slightly out of his reach. "I guess I might have more incentive to stop by now."

Everett poured a cup of coffee and offered some to Callen who declined. "You're concerned about Nell."

"I don't know if 'concerned' is the right word."

Everett raised an eyebrow. "Do you know the right word?"

Callen reevaluated Everett in an instant, wondering exactly how intuitive he was. "Nell is an integral part of –"

"Let me stop you there," Everett said, in what should have been an infuriating way, but which only disarmed Callen instantly – the other man was simply too genuine and friendly. "I know you care about your team the same way I care about mine. We've had a few dealings with Nell serving as our support from Ops in the past. She's fantastic, isn't she?"

Well, obviously. "I only want to –"

"And brilliant," Everett said, as if he hadn't heard him. "Makes you wonder why she works here when she could be making six figures at some tech firm or think tank, right?"

Wasn't Callen supposed to be the one extolling her virtues and not the other way around? "Nell cares about making a difference. She doesn't only want a paycheck."

"I'm aware, and that dedication is something I look for in everyone on my team. That's why I know she'll fit in like she's been with us since the beginning."

Callen hated the sound of that. "Granger mentioned something about the position on your team possibly being permanent," he said, as casually as he could manage (which probably wasn't casual at all). He almost added I want her back after this, but that wouldn't serve him very well, nor was it that professional.

Understanding dawned in Everett when he realized this wasn't only about Nell's welfare while she was with them. He walked back to his desk which was opposite Talbot's. The younger, dark-haired woman had her injured ankle propped up on a footstool under her desk. "Hey Katie, Callen here's worried we're going to steal Nell away from them. Would you ease his mind?"

"Believe me," she said, trying not to laugh, "we'll never get her. Everett's tried many times and never succeeded."

"She's joking," Everett said, rolling his eyes. "This is the kind of thing that gets you fired, Katie."

"You promise?" she asked. "I could relax on unemployment for a while."

Everett shot her a look that must have implicitly ordered her to tell the truth, since the woman sighed as if put upon.

"I was kidding, but the sentiment remains. You can't possibly think Nell would choose to leave your team?" She studied Callen's face, surprised at what she found. He did think it was a possibility – and here she thought her team had more than its fair share of personal issues. It was comforting to learn they weren't alone.

"If she does leave then I'll need to take someone as recompense," Callen said. "How about you, Agent Talbot? Looking for a change?"

"She's not," Everett said, flatly.

"I could be," she argued, mostly because Everett had answered for her and she despised it when he did that (which he well knew). "Maybe I'd at least get coffee over there."

Everett grabbed an empty mug from his desk and tossed it at Talbot. With her limited mobility, she nearly fell off her chair when she reached out to catch it. She scowled and for a second Callen thought she was going to throw it back at her boss.

"You know she has a broken ankle?" Callen asked.

Everett ignored the implicit criticism. "That doesn't mean she's helpless. She knows where the coffee machine is."

"It's called common courtesy," Talbot chided, spinning the empty mug in her hands.

"I'll get you some," Callen offered, trying to assess their dynamic. He had no idea what to make of it so far.

"Why Agent Callen, that's very chivalrous of you. Meanwhile, Everett here –" she stopped talking when Everett set the coffee he was holding in front of her and Callen realized it had been for her all along, "– is definitely the best."

"Good morning," Nell greeted as she walked in, surprised to find Callen on the wrong side of the building. It only served to further disorient her. "What's going on?"

Talbot thought her next words were harmless. "Callen was suggesting a trade. You for me."

Nell felt a sudden flash of hurt. They couldn't be serious…she'd know if he was considering that, wouldn't she?

Perhaps Everett saw Nell's worry, since he addressed his junior agent with unusual sharpness. "No one's trading anyone unless it's me trading you to Alaska."

"Good, I like the cold," Talbot shot back.

"Everett doesn't have anything to offer that could convince me to willingly give you up," Callen assured Nell, smiling in a way that let her know the words were more than a joke meant to lessen the tension.

"I feel like I should be offended by that," Talbot muttered, as she sipped her coffee.

"That didn't come out right," Callen said. "I'm sure you're a fine agent."

"Just not 'anything to offer'?" Talbot asked, expertly hiding how much she enjoyed seeing him backpedal.

"I'm…I didn't…" Callen really hoped she was kidding, though he could find no indication of it. "You seem terrific."

"So you would trade me for her?" Nell asked, never one to pass up giving him a hard time.

Callen glanced between the two women, quickly realizing he was in a no-win situation.

"Some advice for you, one team leader to another?" Everett pointed to the hallway. "Run."

It annoyed Callen that he'd started the day determined to hate Everett and he couldn't even manage that.

Eric saved him further grief by appearing at the second floor railing. "Morning everyone. Everett, Hetty wants a meeting once the rest of your team gets here. Oh hey, Callen. Wait, am I at the wrong staircase?"

"No, I'm on the wrong side," Callen told him, "though I guess I should return. I probably have things to do today." He took out his phone to check his messages and sighed when it took three tries to get into it. "Eric, the only thing you did was make this slower than before."

Their analyst promptly fled before Callen could issue any more accusations.

"That reminds me…" Nell took a box out of the desk that she'd been temporarily assigned and threw it to Callen. "If anyone asks, that's from Hetty."

Callen knew that even if Hetty's name was on the requisition form, she'd had nothing to do with it. "A new phone? I thought I wasn't getting one."

"You weren't, but we don't want anything to happen to you because your phone's not working right. You're worth more to us than the cost of a new phone each month." Her words echoed what he'd told her two days before. "Just…stay out of the ocean, okay?"

"No promises," he declared. "Thanks, Nell."

She smiled in return and the reality of the situation hit him as if he'd been physically punched – how hard it was to leave her there with Everett's team. How wrong it felt.

He stopped next to Everett on his way out. "I'm trusting you to keep her safe." The next part, I'll hold you accountable if she isn't, didn't have to be said aloud.

Instead of getting insulted or defensive, Everett only seemed amused. "I think Nell can keep herself safe, but I'm sure you know that already. You have nothing to worry about, Callen. We already consider her one of our own."

Yeah, that was what worried Callen the most.

XXXXXX

As the week wore on and Everett's team made progress with their case, Callen saw less and less of Nell. When an entire day went by without even passing her in the halls, he made a few inquiries and learned she was downstairs at the range.

He stood at the observation window and watched her practice with the two other members of Everett's team – Agents Scott and Langston. Callen tended to mix them up since the two men looked similar enough to pass as brothers – early 30's, same height, build, dark hair, and general features. They were shooting on either side of Nell and the three of them seemed to be having some sort of competition because after another round, one of the men pointed at his target in triumph.

Callen stepped onto the range in time to hear Scott (Langston?) challenge, "Double or nothing."

"You're on," Langston (Scott?) accepted, as the three of them set up new targets. They were speaking rather loudly to be heard over their ear protection. Callen positioned himself against the wall behind Nell so he could watch her shoot; no one had heard him enter.

"Someone's improved since the last time I saw her down here," one of the men said, half-teasing. "Been brushing up on lessons?"

"Kensi's been helping me out," Nell said.

"Help from a sniper, oh yeah, that doesn't give you an advantage," he chided.

"You make it sound like I'm cheating." Nell lined up her aim and fired a few rounds.

"Not cheating, just misleading us about your skill level," the other man said. "Hey Langston, know who else I saw down here with Nell the other day?" (And Callen now knew which one was which.)

"Let me guess," Langston said, as if he were actually thinking about it. "His first name is a single letter."

Nell happened to pull the trigger when he spoke and her shot went inexplicably wide. Callen knew that was the best opportunity to reveal he was there, but sheer curiosity kept his mouth shut. It was too tempting to hear their unfiltered thoughts of him, even if it was slightly unethical. (And besides, he thought defensively, they should have been more aware of their surroundings – not one of them had glanced behind them since he'd walked in.)

"How'd you convince him, Nell?" Scott asked. "I need some suggestions for how to get Talbot down here."

At his words, it clicked in Callen's memory that Katherine Talbot was one of the best shooters in the building. He regularly saw her name on their top scoring sheets and she even rivaled Kensi most of the time. Apparently she didn't help out her teammates as much as they would have liked.

"I didn't convince him of anything," Nell said. "I talked to him like a normal person." Moreover, Callen had been the one to approach her to offer his help, though she didn't mention that because she knew what they'd infer from it.

"Should I treat Talbot like a normal person?" Scott mused. "Seems risky."

"Talbot has enough on her plate aside from trying to turn you into an expert marksman," Langston defended their absent teammate.

"Or maybe she doesn't like you as much as my team likes me," Nell suggested, and when Scott started to refute that, she drowned him out by firing six rounds in rapid succession. Two of them were low. "Maybe you should ask Callen for help instead?"

"I don't think he knows who I am," Scott lamented, "considering that the last time we spoke, he called me 'Langston' when he left."

"A higher compliment has never been paid," Langston informed his partner.

"Oh yeah, I was flattered," Scott said, as he reloaded his weapon. "Really, he's always seemed…what's the word?"

"Distant?" Langston offered.

"Yes, distant," Scott agreed. "Not that I mean it as an insult, he just keeps people at arm's length."

"We've never been able to figure him out," Langston added, for Nell's benefit.

Callen took that as a victory and he would have interrupted except he had to hear how she responded.

"You can't figure him out because he doesn't want you to," Nell told them. "Have you ever talked to him when he's preparing to go undercover? He turns into another person entirely." Depending on who he chose to be, it could either impress or chill her. Sometimes both at the same time.

"That would explain why I feel like I've met at least five versions of him," Scott said, thoughtfully.

"I'm sure you have," Nell confirmed, "and none of them have anything to do with who he really is. He keeps his personal life separate from his professional one. If you don't know him that well, all you'll ever see is who he wants you to see."

"And who do you see?" Langston asked, light insinuation in his tone.

"I see him," Nell replied, immediately. She supposed she should have taken more time to consider Langston's real question: if Callen excelled at changing into whoever he wanted, who could ever say which version was the real him? What if his 'regular' persona was as carefully crafted as the rest of them? And yet, Nell knew it wasn't. The man she saw and talked to every day was the real him, she'd bet her life on it, and her only explanation was that she could feel it.

They grew quiet, silence interrupted only by the sounds of shooting. Nell readjusted her aim to make up for the shots that were too low, and infuriatingly, now a few of them were too high.

She hit the button to return her target (with too much force) right as Callen stepped forward. "How long have you been here?" she asked, warily.

"You do see me," he said, avoiding her direct question while also giving a partial answer. "You see damn near everything."

Near everything? "What am I missing?"

"Some of your shots," he told her, successfully distracting her from that line of questioning.

She gave him the old target, disappointment in herself evident. "Yeah, too low, too high, I can't win. I'm trying to fix it and getting worse."

He gave the paper more scrutiny than it warranted. "Anything new with your case?"

She brightened considerably. "Talbot tracked down the main suspect's ex-girlfriend and we talked to her today. In exchange for protection, she gave us a tip about First National Bank being one of their next targets. Once Everett sets everything up, we'll be going undercover as employees."

He hated that she'd be going into the field without his team (without him), yet he was happy for her at the same time. It was hard to sort out the proper response, so he settled for, "I'm glad you're getting somewhere."

"I thought I'd brush up on my skills in preparation. It's going…okay."

He gestured at the range. "Try again."

She tried to compose herself and take up the correct stance. Despite her efforts, three of her next ten shots were too low and she paused out of sheer annoyance. She'd been acing it when she first got down to the range and then she'd mysteriously lost her touch. She wondered if it had anything to do with her lingering worry about being on another team. She wanted to prove she was qualified to be there – that she was good enough to stand alongside agents who had years of experience on her.

Callen assessed her shot pattern. "You're too tense and trying to overcompensate for it." He stepped closer, and although they weren't touching, she could feel the heat of him behind her. "Relax. We've been over this." And they had during the many times he'd given her assistance with target practice before.

She fired once again. Too low. She glared at the target, unsure if she was more upset with Callen for the advice or herself for being unable to follow it.

"What'd I say?"

"I am relaxed," she insisted, though the truth was she hadn't felt this anxious in a long time. The worse she performed, the more her confidence faltered. What if Callen was doubting how she'd perform with another team? What if Scott and Langston were wondering about her effectiveness in the field?

"You should be getting this right, especially since you're going undercover." It was as if he'd read her mind in the worst possible way. "Do you want to clear your head? Come back later?"

"No, I can do this." She aimed at the target again, though she didn't shoot.

She must have stood there too long because Callen reached out, slow enough not to startle her, and took the weapon away. He set it down on the ledge. "You're overthinking it."

"Force of habit," she admitted, shaking her arms out since they were starting to get stiff from holding them in the same position.

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to directly face the target. "You don't need me for this. Shut your eyes and recall exactly how you need to position yourself to hit the target wherever you want." He let that sink in before adding, "I know you remember."

She missed him when he stepped away (though it was more accurate to say she'd been missing him the whole week).

He was right. She knew this already, she simply had to get in the right frame of mind to access the information. She picked up her gun and made a few minute adjustments based on her memories. When she started shooting again, only one of her shots missed center mass.

"Back to form, Nell," Scott called, encouragingly.

"I think you won," Langston told her, as he showed them his last target; two of his shots were off. Scott had apparently missed an indeterminate amount, judging by the way he complained that his hand had cramped up and then crumpled his target and threw it at his partner.

Nell admired her nearly perfect target. "I'm bringing you to my qualifiers, Callen. You don't have a say in it."

"You can bring me wherever you'd like," he told her, pretending not to notice the look Scott and Langston exchanged. He was pretty sure she had no idea how literally he meant it.

XXXXXX