A/N: I kind of can't believe it but this story is finally at the last chapter. There is a sequel of sorts in the works and a summary of that possible sequel at the bottom of this. I'd love to know if any of you would be interested in seeing that eventually. An enormous Thank You goes out to everyone who has stuck around with this story and for all the kind words, favorites, and follows! Thank you all and as always reviews feed the plot bunnies, Riptide!

Epilogue: Part 2

Washington, D.C., USA

January 3, 2007

It's dark by the time Hetty steps into the elevator of her apartment building on the east side of Arlington. She's been stuck in closed door meetings for the entirety of the day, juggling back room politics and bureaucrats with more hidden agendas than she can shake a stick at all through the holidays and Hetty feels like she has her own personal Grinch on her shoulder because this is the last place on earth she wants to be right now.

She drops her hand down into her bag, fingering the memory stick that contains all the information that her contacts had managed to collect on the whereabouts of Clara Callen's son. There's giga-bites of data on there and she can sum it all up in one word: nothing. The elevator jolts gently to a stop on the tenth and top floor and Hetty steps lightly into the hallway, feeling the remembered panic that had surged sharp and surprisingly strong in her heart upon finding him in that industrial building in Kipen'. It had taken every ounce of her considerable training to protect him in the way that she'd failed to do for his mother and there's guilt settling like a stone down into her bones because she's beginning to suspect that nothing she does is ever going to make up for that single all-encompassing failure.

He'd been starting to trust her, Hetty was sure that she'd been making some kind of headway with this man that she'd sworn a dead woman she'd protect, at least until Kipen'. Finding him in that industrial building had been more luck than skill on her part and Hetty's painfully aware of just how close they'd come to being caught by the CIA team sent to take him out. He'd already been in rough shape by the time she'd gotten there and it had taken every single one of her skills and a handful of called in favors to get them both out of Russia and over the border to her safe house in Narva, Estonia, a beautiful, quaint little town just over the Russian border.

Hetty had called one of her oldest friends on their way out of Russia, an army nurse that she'd met on a fateful Thursday afternoon in Vietnam following a Viet Cong air strike. They'd remained friends in the years following, even over four and a half decades and two continents, and Annie Prost had been the only one Hetty had thought to trust when she'd had Clara's son bleeding out in her backseat. Annie had been the exact same as Hetty remembered, working with steady hands, a quick mind, and sharper tongue, her English accent firmly in place and as inscrutable as ever.

She'd raised a single eyebrow when Hetty had served them tea and scones with shaking hands while watching over the sleeping form of Clara's son. "You care about this boy, Herta. I can see it in your eyes."

"He's a good man, Annie." She'd remarked, sipping her tea with a kind of desperate focus that begged the other woman not to push.

Annie Prost had never been particularly good at letting sleeping dogs lie though. "No," She murmured, mischief twinkling in bright grey eyes, "He is something special to you, Herta. Something I haven't seen in you in a very long time. Hope."

Hetty reached out to unlock her apartment door, slipping the key back into her pocket and feeling every single one of her years with a weariness that settles down on her shoulders and into the pit of her stomach. There's worry that's decidedly not for herself compressing her lungs and making it hard to breathe and a niggling sense that she's no longer alone prickling against her skin as she steps inside and reaches up to flip on the light with one hand on her gun.

Hetty pulls her Sig Sauer P290 as she steps into the kitchen, noting the empty coffee cup on her otherwise immaculate countertop with confusion because she has a million and one enemies and not a single one of them would break into her penthouse just to help themselves to her French press. There's a rumpled old leather jacket folded over the back of one of her kitchen stools and Hetty raises her Sig as she turns the corner into the living room, weapon pointed at the figure standing silhouetted at the side of her balcony window.

Clara Callen's son turns to face her, blue eyes sparkling in amusement in the low lighting and Hetty splutters to a halt, feeling relief fighting with disbelief for dominance because she hasn't seen even a hint of him since he disappeared from her safe house two days after Kipen' and she'd begun to fear the worst. "Mr. Callen," she murmurs, reminiscent of the first time she'd laid eyes on the man she was sworn to protect. "You're a hard man to find."

"What can I say?" He shrugs then, careless and perfectly controlled and every inch the CIA agent he used to be as he cocks an eyebrow at the still raised Sig Sauer in her hands. "HetI hate to disappoint."

Hetty makes a soft noise of disapproval in the back of her throat, crossing the room to lay her gun and purse on the coffee table before she reaches out to flick on the side table lamp. It casts dim light around the room, defining shadows in the corners and Callen steps forward into the light, twirling his k-bar between the fingers of his right hand, the same knife she'd retrieved from the sidewalk in Kipen' after he'd been shot.

She steps up to his side, quiet footsteps on the carpet of her penthouse suite as she refuses to contemplate how he found her. She's been looking for him across the globe, but not in her own backyard and she desperately wants to ask how he managed to not only sneak back into the country but also find her apartment when there's people she's worked with for years that still know far less about her life outside the office. Instead she tilts her head back to regard this man that she's sworn to protect as he sheaths the blade behind his back and faces her in return, "You took quite the risk coming here, Mr. Callen."

"Audaces fortuna iuvat," he says, lips curling up into a smirk that's equal parts cunning and daring and reminds her completely of the cat that ate the canary before it gentles into a genuine smile that's so eerily like Clara that Hetty has to turn away to stare out at the nightscape beyond her balcony for a long moment. "Besides," He murmurs, speaking up when she can't, "I heard there was work to be found here for someone with my skill set."

"Fortune favors the bold," Hetty translates automatically, before her mind catches up with his words and her dark eyes are flying to his face, trying belatedly to hide her surprise because he's already reading her far too well and there's danger to be found for him in knowing about any of the things she's determined to hide. There's no doubt in her mind about how he'd react to the knowledge about his mother and she's come too far in this to let Clara's son make a suicide run at the Roma.

"Does that mean you've changed your mind, Agent Callen?" Hetty asks, pleased when her voice comes out far steadier than she feels because she remembers a conversation half a world away and she can feel that chance for redemption now, for both of them.

"Yes," G says and it feels like freedom and falling and coming home in almost the same way as seeing the ghost of his dead partner, and he pushes down the disquiet that's rising up in him because this feels too good to be true. "But I have my own terms, Ms. Lange."

Hetty huffs a laugh, the sound incredulous and nowhere near as surprised as she thinks she should be. Then she raises an eyebrow at him and waits because he's so very clearly his mother's son and she can see Clara's stubbornness in the blue eyes that they share. Distantly she realizes that somewhere along the way it's ceased to be painful to see those eyes again.

"I work alone, or not at all." Callen turns away, staring out into the middle distance at something she thinks that only he can see for a long moment and when he looks back at her his eyes are hard, lined with grief and lit from behind by a guilt that she sees every day in the mirror. "It can't be my fault again, Ms. Lange. Those are my conditions."

Hetty purses her lips and fights down the urge to argue because she knows how to pick her battles and at least this way he'll be safe, as safe as he can be while doing this job and with the threat of the Roma two continents away. She'll have to do something about them, she realizes, eventually, because they're never going to stop coming and she's never going to stop trying to make up for Clara. Finally Hetty nods, feeling some of the weight roll off her shoulders and morph into curiosity, "What made you reconsider, Agent Callen?"

"The ghost of Christmas past." He murmurs before he smiles then, bittersweet and tinged with quiet amusement, because 'We're supposed to protect people' and 'you might not care, but I do'. He remembers the complete lack of blame in Matt's eyes and his partner's smile the first time he'd held his friend's baby daughter. "Let's just say an old friend reminded me why we do this."

Hetty frowns, worry and something else she can't name constricting around her heart because she's seen just how far some men will go to make peace with the ghosts of the past and Hetty's beginning to suspect that she might have saved him from the Roma only to lose him to himself. She's already seen just how far he'll go, just how much he was willing to lose for the sake of justice for his former partner and Hetty looks up, trying to catch his eyes but Clara's son's not looking at her, "You can't save everyone."

"No," he agrees, staring out at ash gray skies and the still frozen over waters of the Potomac for a handful of heartbeats and when he turns back to her there's something brittle in his eyes, a fledgling hope that twists something sharp and surprisingly fierce in her gut, "but we can save a few, and I have to believe that that's enough."

Hetty nods then, gentle and slow because she feels that anything more is going to shatter this fragile thing that just might be trust between them. She thinks of the Scotch she's been saving then, for a special occasion, and decides that this chance for redemption that she's been given counts if nothing else. She steps away from his side, crossing to the pantry to retrieve the Booker's 25th Anniversary that she's held on to for the better part of a year, and then slips into the kitchen for glasses and by the time she comes back Clara's son hasn't moved.

Hetty presses a glass into his hands, remembers his mother and a stolen phone call and 'Promise me you'll keep him safe' and smiles because it might have been three decades in the coming, but finally and she thinks 'He's safe, Clara. I'll keep him safe' and it's a promise, a vow to match the one she never kept to his mother. "Welcome home, Mr. Callen."

He smiles then to match her, genuine and bittersweet but Hetty sees the same blossoming hope in his eyes that she feels welling up in her chest and she imagines that somewhere, somehow Clara's smiling down at them.

The End.

P.S. If you're interested, please take a look at some of my other NCIS: Los Angeles fics.

Catching Fire: "Love is like a friendship caught on fire..." Deeks has been out of contact with his partner for over a month, when Callen breaks into his house with information that Kensi's classified mission is about to go sideways. Set after 5:14 'War Cries'. Complete.

Strength in My Weakness: "Convince me that my partner didn't die for nothing." Because there are some people that you aren't just willing to die for. There are some that you'll kill for. Episode Tag to 6x16 "Expiration Date". In progress.

Forged In Fire: When Sam Hanna and his partner go missing while undercover with a group of anarchists, The American Revolution Movement, Hetty calls in her resident black ops expert. A former CIA agent with a checkered past, G Callen is NCIS' secret weapon but he's adamantly against working with a partner. He's a loner, always has been, but won't be for much longer if Hetty has her way. Pre-series. Coming Soon.