A/N ok I know I have other WIP's going on and they will ALL be finished as I never like to leave a story undone. However, this one is special...this is my 100th Story. It is not slash but it is AU. a what if...if you like.

I would like to thank and shower with praise my amazing beta SnoopGirlZ who has read this multiple times as we hash it out and turn it into something I am happy to write and she is happy to read without having the need to call the cops and have Callen (Either one of us.) arrested.

Disclaimer, I own nothing of worth, anything you recognize belongs to Shane Brennan and I promise to be...ok so I'll give his characters back in one piece...eventually.

Just Another Cover

Chapter 1

September 2000, Colombia

She sat in a small café, having given her group the slip. She knew it wasn't the greatest idea, but he had sounded nice and she had been talking to him on the Internet for weeks. Her best friend had covered for her telling her teacher that she'd come down with a stomach bug, probably from drinking the water. Her teacher had checked on her and told her to stay in bed and that she'd check on her later. Nell had waited as the woman called her social worker to inform her of the illness and Nell had heard the social worker's disdain at being bothered. Miss Mitchell had sighed as she closed the phone and had promised to check on her as soon as the group got back. Nell had just looked away.

She had been in care for two years and was used to being ignored by her social workers. The lack of care from the CPS worker upset her for a moment until she damped down the feelings and looked over at the wall, unwilling to make eye contact for fear she would convey her feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. She listened as the door locked, wiped away a stray tear that had escaped and then jumped out of bed. She grabbed her clothes, got dressed, applied some make-up, fetched her laptop and left for the nearby Internet café. She was meeting Tomas Sanchez, the fifteen-year-old boy from Cartagena, whom she had been talking too online for a few months. Oh she knew that it might be dangerous, but she had told her friend where she would be and who she was meeting. Therefore, as far as fifteen-year-old Nell Jones was concerned, she had covered herself and was safe. Enough.

So there she sat, for four hours - alone. She set up her laptop and contacted Tomas and twice he said he was on his way, so she waited. He sent her a message an hour into her wait asking her what she was wearing, so she told him and he said he would be there soon. Then the messages stopped.

Finally, she gave up waiting, packed her bag to leave, feeling hurt, and embarrassed. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the café towards her hotel.

"Nell?" A voice called from an alley that she had just walked past.

Nell turned as a large hand was wrapped around her mouth and she was pulled into a large, dirty white van. Her eyes grew wide and fearful as a well dressed man looked her up and down.

"Nell Jones…Tomas sent me…well sort of, I am…Tomas…actually, my real name is Miguel Sanchez and you have been…interesting to me." He smiled and Nell squirmed in the arms of the thug holding her.

She tried to scream as a needle pierced her neck and her world went black.

August 2005.

He moved with a stealth that belied his years, his training was coming into play. He slipped away from his team as they conducted random raids on a Colombian drug lord that they had been ordered to take out. He had another agenda, besides he had already decided that this would be his last job for the CIA, he was thinking of moving on.

Since he was fifteen years old and had found his father, Gregori Nikitovitch Reznikov had been a mercenary for hire. For safety's sake, he had kept the alias he had grown up with. Now he was known within the DEA, FBI and now the CIA as G. Callen. It was the perfect alias as G. Callen had no idea about his past. It was a clean slate and after the initial question, "What does the G stand for?" they, for the most part left him alone. Jobs in the Federal Agencies gave him access to weapons and training that he needed. Although his father had taught him a lot over the years, there had been advantages to having a real badge and gun to gain access to any place where if he'd gone in as himself, he'd have been asked a lot of questions.

No, this was good.

He walked around the rear of the compound, remembering all of the weaknesses his father had pointed out when they had walked through the job. At barely thirty-five years old, G. Callen had already made a name for himself as a ghost.

Miguel Sanchez walked out of the room smiling at the sound of sobbing within.

Silly Chica, she should have thought of the consequences before she cheated me out of a million dollars.

He had hired her to break into the CIA computers to find out about an operation he had heard they were planning to run which would ruin his empire.

When his men spotted the fifteen-year old American girl, five years ago while she was on a school trip to Cartagena, and saw her capabilities, they kidnapped her and brought her to him.

He had done his homework on her. She was in foster care, her parents having abandoned her years ago. He had been surprised that after he had taken her, the school just assumed she had run away. Although he had paid the local police enough so had they asked, they would not have looked. He glanced back as the red headed girl looked at him with large hazel eyes. Maybe he could use her after all. He smiled as he closed the door, thinking of all the things he could do to her to work off the million-dollar debt.

It was the last thought he would ever have.

Seconds later a bullet slammed through his brain and he sunk to the floor.

Callen walked in and checked the body, bending carefully due to the small wound in his side he had picked up a few moments earlier taking out one of Sanchez's bodyguards. Smiling as he took a picture for proof, he then hid the body in a closet.

He won't be discovered for a few hours, he thought as he closed the door.

Suddenly he heard a noise. Crying?

He threw his rifle over his shoulder and opened the door.

"Help me!" a female voice called out.

Callen looked over at her silently.

"Please…you speak English?" she asked.

Callen nodded as he walked over and undid her handcuffs. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Nell…Nell Jones," she said wiping her eyes. "Can you get me out of here?" she asked.

He should have said no and just left her, but he couldn't. Something compelled him to take her with him.

"Come on Nell," he said with a smirk.

Her heart fluttered and she followed him.

Halfway down the corridor all hell broke loose. The CIA raid, which had been planned for later that night, started early.

"Shit!" Callen swore. Grabbing Nell's hand, they ran to his escape route.

He knew he could not go back with his team; he had planned on moving on anyway. He could say he was captured and had escaped; it had worked before, however, there was no way he could explain being there early and he certainly didn't want to explain the girl now accompanying him. Leaving her wasn't an option so through the jungle they ran, Nell focused on keeping close to the mysterious (and handsome) man who had saved her. Several hours later, her legs burning, they finally stopped in front of an oddly shaped tree where the man reached behind it and retrieved a black bag.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Callen laughed to himself. They had been running for hours and only now did she ask that question. He smiled and she sat down heavily.

"Don't …" he said crouching beside her. He started rubbing her legs, "You'll get a cramp."

Once he had massaged her legs enough to avoid cramping, he pulled a bottle of water, and what looked like army field rations, with a foreign language label, out of the bag. After taking the greatly appreciated food and water, the young girl thanked him as Callen returned to rubbing her legs.

"Why did Sanchez have you as a prisoner?" he asked.

She looked up at him scared, but she felt she could trust him, "He kidnapped me to hack into the CIA computers."

Callen laughed, "You're a child!" he exclaimed.

She glared at him, "I'm a grown woman, who happened to stop growing at five feet, one inch. And I'll have you know that I did hack into the computers." She hesitated a moment before continuing, the nightmares of what happened after that crawling back to the forefront of her mind. "He didn't like what I found and in traditional Drug Lord ways; he beat me until I was barely conscious. " She took a deep breath, "He threatened to …" Nell just could not verbalize her thoughts and the tears drained from her eyes, drops falling from her cheeks onto her shirt.

"Hey Nell, its ok," Callen said as he instinctively drew the young woman close to him.

Nell tensed for a second.

Callen stepped back and held up his hands in defense at her outburst and her reaction, "Ok…ok I'm sorry," he said and stopped as Nell burst into tears.

Nell looked away, "I'm ok…it's just…It's been a long time since someone was nice to me…I mean…" she sighed and stood up moving away from him. "I've been there with him a long time."

"How long?" Callen asked.

Nell gave a small sob and turned back to face him, "Five years I think," she told him.

"And no one's been looking for you?" he asked, The CIA team had been sent in to extract another agent, a woman called Monique, but no one had said about any other American women at the compound.

"Why would they?" Nell sighed.

"Surely you have someone who cares, family, a boyfriend…husband?"

Nell laughed "I was a kid when I was taken, so no… no boyfriend or husband and I have no family." Her face fell and she turned to walk past him, but tripped on a tree root and fell in his direction.

He caught her quickly and instinctively pulled her to him, amazed at how well her body fit against his, and at the emotional impact, the closeness was having on him. He never got close to anyone, but she seemed to be slipping past all his defenses.

"Are you ok?" Callen asked as he moved her a respectable distance from himself.

She tried standing but winced as her ankle hurt. He gently lowered her to sit with her back to a tree, got the first aid kit out of the pack he had with him, bandaged her ankle up and handed her two painkillers. A few minutes later, exhausted, Nell found herself drifting off to a peaceful sleep. She could not remember the last time that happened but she knew exactly why it had this time. It was due to the compassionate, blue-eyed man who had rescued her and for the first time in months, she felt safe closing her eyes for more than a few seconds.

Callen watched as the girl slept. He moved so her head was in his lap and off the small cut that was starting to throb, and then he gently brushed a few strands of hair off her face.

Without a doubt, she was beautiful. From what she had told him, no one had reported her missing and that fueled the bubbling anger inside him. He had hated it when he was younger and no one had cared about him, until that fateful day when his father finally found him.

Leaning against the tree, Callen closed his eyes and thought back to that day.

He was fifteen years old and in his twenty-eighth foster home, or rather, he had just left his twenty-eighth foster home after his new foster father decided that he would make an example of the new kid by beating him up for not knowing the house rules.

He had had enough; they had moved him from the previous house for the same thing. This time when he called his new social worker to get him out of there, she informed him that he was being too much trouble and he needed to suck it up for a while. Having had enough of people telling him to "behave better", he left. He jumped from the second floor window, down to the ground, picked up his bag, and headed out.

Walking along Venice beach, he spotted a man whom he had seen a few times before, admittedly, he thought that he was just imagining it, but no, he was being watched. The man's brown, but slightly graying hair and bright blue eyes caught his attention.

Callen sat on the bench pretending to sleep and watched him surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. Twice he noticed people who looked like trouble walking up towards him. Both times the man moved and other people emerged from the shadows and both threats were eliminated.

This man was watching him, and Callen needed to find out why. Callen sat up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked past the man into the café he was sitting outside of and disappeared. The man waited and when he realized Callen had given him the slip he walked back to his car...only to find Callen sitting cross-legged on the hood.

"Who are you?" Callen asked.

The man smiled, "My name is Arkady Kolcheck; I am a businessman. Who are you, little waif?" he asked, his Russian accent obvious.

"You should know. You've been following me for months now," Callen replied, as he slid off the hood and then leaned against the car.

Arkady smiled again. The more he had followed him, the more certain he knew who he was. "You are Gregori…are you not?"

Callen shook his head, "Nope, not me…sorry wrong guy," he said with his lips forming a quirky smirk.

Arkady looked intensely at the much younger man. He was sure his Intel was right and he had finally found his son, "What is your name, boy?" he asked.

"Boy'll do, that, or G. Callen…either or is fine."

"And the G…stands for Gregori does it not?" Arkady asked.

Callen shrugged, "Dunno. You know, you ask a lot of questions for a stranger." Callen took two steps closer to the older man, "Who the hell are you?"

Arkady motioned G to a bench and sat down, "I am fairly certain that I'm your father. I have been looking for you for years."

Callen looked at him with scowled face, "My what?" He shook his head, "I don't have a father!"

Arkady gave his son the same smirk he had seen leveled at him moments ago.

"Whether you want one or not, all of us at the point of conception have one."

Callen wasn't amused with the stranger's logic and in classic G. Callen style he shrugged his shoulders, "So my name is Gregori Kolcheck?"

Arkady sighed, "So like your mother, she used to pick puzzles apart too. He stopped and checked for people listening, "My birth name is Nikita Alexsandr Reznikov. Your mother's name was Clara Callen."

"Okay," Callen said, the disbelieving tone permeating his voice, "So where have you been, and why did you abandon me? Is my mother with you?"

"Your mother was killed while on an assignment in Romania. She worked for the government, you were lost in the commotion, and it has taken me all this time to find you."

Having spent the last ten years in the system, Callen was able to realize he was telling the truth. Callen watched the man produce a photo of a woman, who looked a lot like him, holding a small boy with piercing blue eyes. That was him in the photo and all of this was true.

"Are you going to leave me again?" he asked as a hint of fear crept into his voice and he bit his lip at allowing that small slip.

Arkady shook his head, "There is much you need to know and you will have to go back into the system. I will explain why later, but you need to be protected."

Callen glared at him, "So you're sending me back?" He kept his face a neutral mask; he knew it was too good to be true.

"Not right away, we have much to discuss first. You will come home with me for now son." Arkady walked to his car and opened the door.

Callen followed, and over the next few weeks, while he was missing from social services, he learned about his parents, himself, and his still missing older sister.

He was surprised to find out that his father had been a Major in the KGB until he met Clara Callen, and that he also had a side job.

Nikita Alexsandr Reznikov had been trained from birth to be an assassin.

Clara had been sent to kill him and he her…until they met. It was explosive, they had fallen for each other, and within six months of meeting, Clara was pregnant with Gregori's older sister Amelia. They ran away and hid out in the Urals, taking small jobs on the side while working as assassins for hire. Clara had been tasked to take out the head of the Comescu family. She had taken Gregori with her; he had had an ear infection and he could not be left at home. A child playing on the beach with his mother made a perfect cover. Unfortunately, the Comescu's recognized her.

Clara, upon hearing chatter about there being a Callen in the area realized that she may have been compromised, but she knew she had to carry out her assignment. However, she knew she could not get out of Romania by herself and therefore had called her old handler, Hetty Lange. She lied, told the woman she had been held prisoner and that she had children with her, and would be waiting on a nearby beach for them to extract her. Hopefully she would fulfill her assignment and they would get her and the children out safely and then Nikita could join them in America for a new life filled with opportunities.

The Comescu's had killed her because the woman responsible for her rescue could not be bothered to save her. Callen got angry at the new-found information and Arkady held his son as he cried with outrage at how he lost his mother. Arkady, honest with him all the way, taught him who he was, and what he was capable of doing. Armed with knowledge and skills, Callen would avenge his mother's death.

Callen looked down at the sleeping girl as he wrapped his arms gently around her to keep her warm. "I'll keep you safe," he vowed quietly to himself.

Nell murmured and snuggled into his hold still fast asleep.