Blood poured from a fresh wound on Patterson's body and bubbled up from his lungs, seeping out of his mouth. He looked at Callen, his eyes wide in fear, opening and closing his mouth in a vain attempt to speak. Callen lay on the floor next to the dying man and held his gaze, watching impassively as the last of Patterson's life ebbed away.

"G, G!" Sam's voice and two sets of footsteps echoed through the empty garage, growing louder as they approached him.

"Callen?" Deeks' panicked voice now cut through the silence.

Sam reached the spot where Callen was lying. He knelt down, immediately noticing how pale he looked and instantly feared the worst. "G," he whispered, cradling Callen's head in his hands. "You can't do this to me again."

Deeks stood over them, talking quickly and quietly into his cell, asking Eric to send in one ambulance and the coroner's van. He silently prayed it was only one body for the coroner; he had joked that their tight knit team was indestructible, but events of the past year began to cast a serious doubt on their superhero status.

Sam moved one hand and roughly shook Callen, willing him to speak. His eyes were open, the pupils large and dark. He was blinking, shutting his eyes for longer than he should before opening them again. Sam quickly looked down his body for any pools of blood where a bullet may have entered him.

"G?" Sam raised his voice; he knew Callen could hear him. He again shook him, this time eliciting the response he required.

"Stop," Callen gasped as he weakly tried to push Sam's hand away from his body.

"What?" Sam asked. "Where are you hurt?"

He could see Callen had acquired yet another head wound and his wrists were cut raw from the tightness of the zip ties but no other injuries were visible.

"My...shoulder," Callen groaned.

Sam moved away quickly, instantly realising he'd been pressing against Callen's shoulder which looked dislocated.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Deeks asked. Just like Sam he had been scanning Callen's body for any visible signs of injury; blood from a gunshot or a knife wound. Both weapons were lying close by, discarded when Sam's shot had penetrated Patterson's side and caused both men to collapse.

"No," Callen wheezed. "Help me up."

Sam moved to Callen's uninjured left side and gently lifted him in to a standing position. He left his arm around Callen's waist, steadying his partner.

"You sure you don't want to lie down and wait from the ambulance?" Deeks asked, convinced that Callen would fall as soon as Sam released him.

"Sam - shoulder," Callen held Sam's stare, his eyes widening slightly as he mentally convinced himself this was the best treatment.

Sam nodded in understanding. "Deeks, hold Callen, I'm gonna pop his shoulder back in the socket."

Deeks supported Callen as Sam moved in front of him. He reached his right hand out, hovering over Callen's right shoulder.

"On the count of three, right G?"

Callen remained silent and nodded in agreement. Deeks tensed himself for whatever the fallout may be.

"One..."

Callen yelled loudly, and swore in a language neither Sam nor Deeks understood. Sam had pushed Callen's shoulder back into place before counting any further. Callen twisted away in pain and would have ended on the floor again if Deeks' grip had not been so tight.

"What the hell?" Callen panted, struggling to control his breathing after the shock of Sam's inability to count. "Did they not teach you how to count in SEAL school?"

"Deeks, help him sit down against that wall," Sam ignored Callen's complaints with a smile on his face. If his onerous partner was already whining then he knew the injuries weren't too bad.

With a little assistance, Callen gradually sat himself down, grimacing with pain as he bent his bruised knees. "I thought you'd never get here, what kept you?"

"Well you like sorting out your own problems so I thought we'd wait at the back of the lot until the last minute," Sam replied. "And then as usual, I'd dive in and save your sorry ass."

"Your timing as usual was impeccable, however about ten minutes earlier would have saved this injury," Callen said, his breathing now steadier and stronger as the shock and pain began to ease a little.

"How about next time, you don't even think about going off on your own, then I won't need to save you and hear you whine about how my timing was off. My timing was perfect, unless you wanted another bullet wound added to the five you already have."

"Five?" Deeks asked in amazement. "Wow that is awesome. How do you explain that to the girls?"

Callen shot Deeks a wry smile and kept silent. He'd not exactly had many women to explain his scars to and he certainly had no desire to recall his recent conversations on the subject.

"So how long were you waiting before you decided to shoot Patterson?" Callen wondered how much his team had overheard.

"Not long," Sam replied.

"Long enough to see you fighting like a jungle wild cat," Deeks added. "Looks like you've been studying my moves."

"Really Deeks?" Sam asked. "I've never seen you about to slit someone's throat with a pocket knife and with a dislocated shoulder."

Deeks merely looked at Sam, a broad smile across his face. He was just grateful they were all safe. The more insults flying around, the safer they all felt.

"So how did you find me?" Callen asked as the sirens from the ambulance grew louder, stopping abruptly when they arrived at the front of the warehouse.

"Later...Over here," Sam ignored Callen and beckoned to the medics, who grabbed their equipment and jogged to where the agents were congregated by the rear wall.

The first one paused as he approached the prone body of Patterson. He glanced at the three men and then knelt beside the body, placing his fingers across the neck to find any trace of a pulse.

"He's dead," Sam said and pointed towards Callen. "He needs attention."

"I'm fine, just a little sore," Callen replied, hoping the medics would give him a cursory glance and agree.

"He's not; head wound, chest wound, dislocated right shoulder I've popped back in to the socket, maybe concussion." Sam's succinct diagnosis had Callen shake his head in disgust.

"He has a name," Callen answered, trying to fob off the medic who was tentatively feeling his shoulder. The other one grabbed a pen light, shining it into Callen's eyes.

"Shoulder feels ok but I'd like x-rays to double check. Did you lose consciousness?"

"No, yes," Callen lifted his left hand to where the butt of his gun had knocked him out. A small bump had formed but there was no tackiness.

The medic gently prodded both head wounds, cleaning the more recent one. "Confusion is a sign of concussion," he said. "Do you feel sick, dizzy, blurred vision?"

"No no and no," Callen replied, mentally kicking himself for not having given a consistent answer.

"Let's look at your ribs," the second medic asked, whilst the first made notes about their patient's condition.

Callen carefully lifted his shirt, causing Sam to wince at the bruising around his side.

"Hmm, some of this is at least a day old, breath in for me,"

Callen did has he was instructed, wincing slightly at the pain it caused.

"Bad bruising, I don't think anything is broken. But I'd avoid getting punched or kicked in the ribs for a while."

"Funny," Callen glanced at Sam. "You hear that partner?"

"I'd like you to come to ER so we can x-ray your shoulder and chest. You don't have any obvious signs of concussion but you need to rest up for a few days." The medic saw the undisguised look of horror on Callen's face and quickly added. "There won't be any need to keep you in overnight."

"I'm fine," Callen insisted, watching the medic fetch a sling from his case.

"You need x-rays, physiotherapy, your arm will need to be in a sling for a few weeks and there's a three to four month recovery time," the medic said firmly. "Without this, you may not recover full usage of your right shoulder. I assume you're right handed?"

Callen glanced at the faces staring at him and understood that resistance was futile. "Yes I'm right-handed and yes, I'm refusing further medical treatment, but I will go to the ER tomorrow – promise."

"I'll make sure he goes," Sam reassured the medics. "He won't be cleared for any field work until he gets proper treatment..."

The medics reluctantly agreed and passed Callen the relevant paperwork to confirm he'd refused further attention.

The team of three walked upstairs and in to the operations centre; Callen hobbling slightly from bruised knees and his arm was in a sling – the one point on which Sam would not allow him to negotiate. They were greeted by Hetty, Eric and Nell, who pulled out a chair so Callen could sit as they wrapped up the case.

"Mr Callen," Hetty started. "I would say what a surprise to see you back here so soon, and that hospital waiting times for x-rays must have dramatically improved..." Callen held Hetty's stare in a silent look of defiance. "However that would be a lie," Hetty continued. "You will be going to hospital tomorrow, even if Sam has to drag you there in handcuffs."

"Hetty, that is exactly what I promised," Callen said with a straight face. "I just wanted to come back here and help you with all the loose ends."

"Ah yes, indeed there are plenty of those. It seems you made a number of connections you did not feel fit to share with your team." Hetty continued to stare at Callen in disapproval. The senior agent visibly squirmed and remained silent, figuring it would be better for his already fragile health.

"Firstly," Nell interjected quickly. "We have some bad news. We received word six hours ago that Bobby Skinner was stabbed to death in prison. No witnesses, no murder weapon and Janvier was locked in his cell when this occurred. Investigations are ongoing as we speak."

Callen felt his heart sink. There were no easy answers and already Janvier was clearing up, ensuring no link could connect him to the events which had just occurred in Los Angeles.

"On the plus side," Eric picked up from Nell. "When you disappeared on Sam, he called in and said you'd worked on the case overnight. So I trawled back through your search history and found you'd looked in to a Clint Patterson. He'd been at the bottom of the list with no link to Skinner that we could find, so apart from the fact he lived in LA, there'd been no obvious reason to pursue him further."

"But when we found you'd been looking into him," Nell continued seamlessly. "We changed the search parameters. Instead of finding links between Janvier, Skinner and Patterson, we started looking into Patterson's history to find a connection to you. We found you're both the same age and most importantly were both in the social welfare system in LA at the same time. I found Patterson's social services file, recording his last placement at eighteen at a half way house with four other teenagers – one of whose name was redacted. Hetty managed to access your restricted records and found your name."

"The only other piece of information in Patterson's file is circumstantial," Eric said, hesitating before adding. "The same night he disappeared from the house, you were rushed to hospital after being found unconscious in Compton."

With all eyes focused on him for an explanation Callen reluctantly gave in, opting for the brief version. "Patterson wanted to join a gang, tricked me into going with him. I refused, tried to persuade him not to join. That showed him up and I became his gang initiation."

"So why didn't you report him?" Nell asked innocently. She was met with a piercing stare from Callen and she instinctively moved back slightly in her chair. "Er..." Nell continued hesitantly. "Um, ok, we followed Patterson's career progression through to when he was arrested after an undercover DEA operation. Again the agent's identity has been redacted-"

"And five points for guessing the un-redacted agent's name - none other than our very own G Callen," Deeks cocked his head slightly and grinned when he caught the dirty look Sam threw him.

Callen again knew the rest of the team expected and deserved an explanation. "His name cropped up as part of a local drug ring who was supplying high school kids with ecstasy laced with rat poison. We also traced batches of cocaine laced with rat poison back to his gang. When I said I knew him from foster care it was agreed I should go in as myself and infiltrate his team."

"And how did you convince him?" Sam asked, intrigued to know what tactics Callen had employed.

"Told him I'd been kicked out of the DEA for fraudulently filling in my application form, insubordination and suspected theft," Callen replied seriously.

"And Patterson readily believed that from remembering you as kid? Insubordination I can understand, but the rest? Is this a rare insight in to G Callen's years growing up in the system?" Sam smiled widely as he caught Callen's eye. His comment was not appreciated by his younger partner, which only made him broaden his smile.

"Well," Nell said. "The mysterious link between Callen and Patterson was solved, but we were still missing a solid connection between Patterson and Skinner."

"Apparently they were step brothers," Callen said. "He'd never mentioned him before, ever, and there was nothing in either his or Skinner's files."

"That's right, Mr Callen," Hetty said. "It appears that at various points in his parents relationship was several break ups, new marriages, further break ups and re-unions. Skinner was the son of one of the new marriages..."

"Families," Deeks said staring at the large interactive screen which now showed the messy familial connections of Clint Patterson.

"Indeed Mr Deeks, indeed," Hetty agreed. "Eric and Nell managed to run a trace on the known locations of Patterson and tracked him to the warehouse where you found Mr Callen. Unfortunately, with both Skinner and Patterson dead, there are no paths that lead back to Janvier's door."

"And that means the threat is still out there," Callen said. "What about the girl who Tasered me?"

"Well we have scoured every single piece of information and tenuous links from Patterson. We did establish that he had access to a motorbike and was most likely the one who delivered the book to Joelle," Nell said.

"LAPD picked up some girl trying to sell your NCIS ID and she was also in possession of a Taser." Eric said. "LAPD are releasing her into our custody and she'll be in the boatshed for interview in about an hour, but the early indication is she was just hired to hit you with the Taser."

"What about Callen's shooter from Joelle's house?" Deeks asked.

"Nothing, no leads at all,"

"So someone could still be out there?" Callen was not happy that there was a lose end which could still put lives at risk.

"All the while Janvier is alive, Mr Callen, it is possible the threat will never go away." Hetty spoke the words Callen had no desire to hear.

Callen rested his head in his left hand and silently swore that he should have granted Janvier's wish of death by cop. Hell, he should have shot him properly in the first place.

"Mr Deeks, Mr Hanna," Hetty interrupted his thoughts. "To the boatshed if you may. Mr Callen follow me to my office."

With the team effectively dismissed from the ops centre, Callen slowly followed Hetty down to her office. When he arrived he was surprised to see a bottle of whiskey and two half filled glasses on her desk.

"Hetty?" He gently eased himself in to the chair in front of her and took the glass she offered him.

"Oh I'm sure Mr Callen that you have not taken any of your prescribed painkillers, so let this be your medicine, at least for tonight," Hetty peered at her favourite agent through her thick spectacles. She was considering calling Nate back in the hope that he could penetrate Callen's steel walled defences. He was clearly affected physically but it was always his mental state of mind that worried Hetty. The pretence that he wasn't affected when confronted with memories from his past, his close encounters with death, and the fact that he persisted in distancing himself from his close friends – his family.

Callen took a sip of the smooth, expensive tasting whiskey and tried to get comfortable. "This is good," he nodded his appreciation, waiting for Hetty to reveal what was on her mind and to impart her words of wisdom.

"Good," Hetty leaned back in her chair. "I'm worried about you Mr Callen. You've been through so much over these past few days."

"I'll be fine Hetty but might need a few months for my shoulder to heal properly,"

"That is not what I meant," Hetty pursed her lips together in frustration. "Janvier has once again proven to be your nemesis and your Achilles Heel. He has not only reached you, but he has once more threatened those you care about. And your reaction? To push everyone away and tackle the problem on your own."

Callen cast his head downwards like a chastised school boy. He tapped the tips of his fingers together as he tried to find the words to explain his actions. Failing miserably he looked at Hetty, taking another sip of whiskey.

Hetty waited patiently but it was clear that no response would be forthcoming. "Have you still not learnt to trust your team and the people around you? Do you not think that one day you will push them so far away that they may never return? Do you believe you can live the rest of your life on your own?"

"I just don't want people to be hurt because of me," Callen simply admitted.

"People can usually take care of themselves, if you give them the opportunity," Hetty countered. "Sam and Deeks have passed Janvier's tests and neither harbours any ill feeling toward you."

"Well not everyone is as well equipped as they are," Callen knew where the conversation was headed and he wished he could make a speedy exit.

"Ah, you must be referring to your lady friend, Joelle," Hetty had quickly manipulated the conversation to the one area she knew Callen would struggle to open up about.

"It wasn't working out," Callen worked his jaw, rubbing his fingers and thumb together as he lied.

"So the war may still be waging, but Janvier has won this battle," Hetty remained still as she pressed her point.

Callen shuffled slightly as Hetty's words hit home. "I can't take the risk Hetty."

"Surely you of all people know that life is what you make it? You can't allow your hopes and dreams to be limited by circumstance, by Janvier. I have witnessed your journey over the years, and now you are finally finding answers you have found room in your heart for another."

"I wouldn't go that far," Callen said cautiously. "This has made me realise I still have a way to go – I need answers about my past so I can look to the future. There is information on me out there; Keelson found it and I think Janvier has too. Patterson knew about my past, I guess from Skinner via Janvier. He also said something that made me wonder if Janvier's next move will be to cast doubt on my background, on my family and loyalty. I need answers Hetty, and I'm closer now than I've ever been. So close. But I can't move forward until I understand the past."

Hetty watched Callen deflect the question of his own personal happiness with his desire to search for answers. "Very well, if Miss Jones and Mr Beale can be of service then please feel free to use them as a resource – but outside of work hours."

"Thank you," Callen said, grateful that Hetty had not pursued the topic of his love life. It was a regret, but maybe in another time and another place, he might be lucky enough to pick up where he left off with Joelle.

"Now," Hetty re-arranged her glasses on her nose. "I will instruct Mr Hanna to take you to hospital tomorrow for your x-rays. He will be with you at 10am, so please do not keep him waiting."

"There's no need Hetty, I can get myself there," Callen said.

"I fear you may get lost en route. Now since you saw fit to abandon your partner, I strongly recommend you allow Sam to escort you to the hospital tomorrow or I shall have to stand you down for disobeying orders."

"Ok, ok," Callen relented, attempting to hold both hands up in defeat and grunting with the pain. "You can tell Sam I'll be the model patient and that no handcuffs will be required."

Hetty nodded her head in acceptance and reached forward to pour them both another glass of whiskey. A small smile crept across Callen's face. Even with x-rays, painkillers and physiotherapy, Hetty would not clear him for field work for several months yet; however she had just given him a free pass to discover more about his parents.

"In the words of George Bernard Shaw," Hetty pushed Callen's glass towards him. "'Whiskey is liquid sunshine'. And Mr Callen, Lord knows you need some sunshine to chase away the black dog that is stalking you. May I suggest you have another dram before I drive you home? We don't want you falling down and breaking your other shoulder."

A/N - Thank you all for reading, following, favouriting and reviewing this story. I try to thank people via messages & twitter, but to Skippy1967 (who I can't thank in either of these ways) - thanks for your consistently great reviews. I would say it's been fun, but with the exception of the first and last chapter - it's been agony to write! But your reviews have clearly shown that the agony was worth it. Maybe one day there will be a sequel to this story, seems like it's begging for one...