Final chapter! One last time, thanks for all your feedback! It kept me going. This is one of my favorite stories I've ever written, and I hope everyone following it enjoys the ending.

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Over the years, Callen has crafted a specific, guarded way to interact with other people. For the most part, it's easiest to avoid others on a personal level entirely.

He doesn't like to talk about his past with anyone; he doesn't want to deal with their pity and he's never found it fair to lay on other people the demons that are his alone. That doesn't mean he's never tried. When he was young, he answered their questions and he was honest and nothing ever changed. Social workers, foster parents, and mandated counselors had always been interchangeable to him. They offered variations of weak promises to find him 'a better placement' and shallow declarations that 'it wasn't his fault' (and more than a few times, he'd been treated to lectures that it was his fault).

It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was easier to find a new foster home if the next family heard he'd had 'differences' with his last placement than if they heard he had 'lied' about being locked in his room for an entire day. And though foster homes weren't ideal, they were better than group homes and orphanages by a wide margin (less people to fight with, for one). So when he was around ten or eleven, he'd learned to stop sharing.

Now, whenever he can't avoid the subject, he gives as little information as possible to stop the line of inquiry. Usually a remark or anecdote from his childhood is enough to get the other person to deflect or change the topic. He doesn't blame them, either – it's too uncomfortable. People say they care, that they want to know the truth, but no one actually wants to hear it.

Nell's different.

For the first time since he could remember, he'd wanted to talk to someone. And he'd never stopped. She knows how to listen, and he'd learned in their first few weeks together that he didn't need to joke around to ease any potential discomfort. Even more astonishing, it doesn't feel shameful to accept her sympathy or her caring. There's a difference between someone pitying him and someone being genuinely upset on his behalf. Their pasts are vastly different, but she accepts his with the same easiness that he accepts hers, and he knows that it's infinitely harder for her. She understands, which should be impossible given that she has no personal experience with the kinds of things he's lived through, and yet, it's there, and it's real – he knows because he sees it in her eyes when he talks to her.

His childhood doesn't hurt the way it used to before he joined NCIS. He has plenty of happy memories, they just came along a few decades later. They're from his job and his friends, a team of people who've become his family. His favorite memories, though, are undeniably centered around Nell. He feels he's lived as many great moments in the past seven months, with her, as he had in the five years before.

The memories flash by: pushing her under the waves, tracing her steps in the woods, the brilliant look on her face when she tackled him into the sand – and later, her quiet words: I know who you are.

He'd been so intent on staying in denial that he became an expert at disregarding anything that could indicate she's ever cared for him as more than a friend. Now he wonders if it's possible they're more alike than he thought, if they've both been operating under the same set of mistaken rules and guidelines.

Maybe he should question everything.

Eight weeks into their sessions, she'd shown up to work looking slightly off.

He'd brushed away the nagging at the back of his mind. They didn't have any active cases, so Nell spent the day doing research on cold cases for Hetty. Granger had taken the opportunity to give Callen a stack of agent files and ordered him to narrow down the best candidates for a vacancy on another team. He'd complained to Sam about doing Granger's 'busy work'. Annoyingly, Sam had called him on the truth – that he was flattered at their boss's trust in his judgment.

Nell appeared at his desk in the late afternoon, a welcome reprieve from the hundreds of pages he'd been sifting through for hours. It might have been the lighting, but her face seemed unnaturally pale when she asked, "Free after work?"

"Always," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking her in. "You alright?"

"Never better," she'd sworn. He'd ignored his worry and gone back to work.

When they entered the gym that night, Deeks and Kensi were also there, taking the opportunity to practice.

"Not too late to back out, Nell," Deeks told her, watching the two of them set up. He still found it strange to see them together, but in a good way. He'd never seen Callen this happily dedicated to anything (or anyone) outside of a case, and Nell, she threw herself into it with a passion Deeks found contagious. He kept waiting for her enthusiasm to wane and it never did. He'd known what they'd bring out in each other, and every day was bringing him one step closer to being proven right.

Nell stretched her arms over her head. "You've been saying that for two months, Deeks. Are you scared at how fast I'm learning? Few more weeks and I'll be able to take you down without breaking a sweat."

Scarily enough, he didn't doubt it. "Hey, if you want to take lessons from Callen's 'Screw the World That's Out to Get You' Handbook, that's up to you."

Nell smiled at his description, apt as it was. Callen loved to drill into her head that she should never trust anyone. Ever. Ever.

She was a little less cynical than him, but she found it good advice to take to heart.

"Around 80% of attacks on women are perpetrated by someone she personally knows," Callen told them. Nell had heard it before; it was one of his most-cited statistics when he was trying to emphasize the need for vigilance. He wasn't wrong, and she knew that as a woman she was far more likely to be attacked than a man. She also knew that if she wanted to be out in the field more, being a woman put her at a disadvantage. She had to even the playing field, and she intended to keep at it until she reached the day where she could take down anyone who would try and use her size against her.

After Callen, Kensi was the person Nell tried to emulate the most since the other woman had proven herself as effective in the field as any of the men they worked with. (She secretly hoped that one day the new agents would look up to her in the same way.)

At the threat of facing Callen's never-ending statistics, Deeks wisely shut up. He wouldn't win against Callen on that front, nor did he want to when he knew the other man spoke the truth. Besides, he was mostly teasing. Anything that made his friends stronger – whether against an attacker or a suspect they had to take down – was fine in his book.

He watched the way Callen and Nell laughed over some inside joke before turning back to his partner. 'Bet' he mouthed, nodding at them.

"Shut up," Kensi muttered, trying to kick him. "I'm going to win." Part of her was beginning to worry, though.

(When Callen and Nell had struck up their arrangement, Deeks had bet Kensi that their association would 'alter reality as they knew it' – his dramatic way of saying Callen and Nell would eventually end up together. Kensi had happily taken the bet. Her partner lived in a fantasy world based on enthusiastic optimism and an overly romantic nature. He didn't see that Callen was too closed off to the world, that Nell was far too nice to ever pry into his personal life. They could train together, they could become better friends, but anything more than that…Kensi couldn't wrap her mind around it.)

It didn't take long into their session for Callen to recognize that something wasn't right. Nell was too slow and deliberate in her movements. She took too many breaks, supposedly to watch Deeks and Kensi. When Callen was able to pin her three times within a ten minute span, he sat back on the mat next to her, the worry in him growing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She was lying on her back, contemplating how comfortable the mats were. (She'd never noticed before, maybe because she was always hitting them with significant force?)

Callen knew he should have put it together quicker than he did. He slid his hand under the back of her neck and found her skin to be unnaturally warm. She had a fever around 102 if he had to guess, but it could have been higher. "Nell, you're sick."

She turned her head to face him. "Yeah, I know."

"And you wanted to practice. Why?"

"It'll make me better. At training, I mean. What do you always say about no one cutting me any slack? It doesn't matter if I have a cold."

"I don't think colds cause fevers that high."

She ignored the censure in his tone. "No one who's trying to hurt me is going to back off if I say I'm not feeling well."

"Wow," Deeks was shaking his head, "I never thought I'd say this, but if I hadn't heard that in your voice, I'd have sworn it was Callen speaking. You two are becoming more and more alike."

Nell perked up a little. "You think?"

"Obviously you'd take that as a compliment," Deeks said wryly. "I thought you looked awful earlier. I didn't say anything because I'm chivalrous like that." He knelt down and pressed his hand to her forehead. "Damn, girl."

She lazily pushed his hand away, too tired to put up much of a fight. "The exercise is making me better already. Look at me."

Callen, Deeks, and Kensi stared at her lying on the floor.

"Go home," Kensi implored. "Callen will happily supply you with plenty of opportunities to torture yourself in the future."

Callen couldn't fault Nell's logic of no one cutting her any slack based on how she felt, but it bothered him that she'd been taking him literally to the point that she wanted to spar with him while she was sick. "I find your dedication admirable, Nell. Not many would show this kind of self-discipline –"

"Not many?" Kensi interrupted, sounded incredulous. "Try no one. This is why you have the reputation you do. You've literally pushed her to the brink of collapse."

"As I was saying," Callen shot Kensi a glare, "although I appreciate it, Nell, you have to go home."

"I'm good." Nell forced herself to sit up next to Callen, pressing a hand to the back of her neck. "I took some medicine earlier, my fever should be gone any minute. I can go a few more rounds."

"Seriously?" Deeks asked.

"No, not seriously," Callen said, words aimed at Nell. She stubbornly didn't move. "You'd rather be here than at home in bed?"

She spoke with such easy conviction when she said, "I'd always rather be here with you."

(That was the moment Kensi knew she'd made the wrong bet.)

Ever since that day, whenever the memory came back to him, Callen had tried to convince himself that her words had been the result of a fever that caused her to become slightly delirious. It worked back then; now, he's not so sure.

While he debates whether he should wait until they're alone to talk to her, Nell's trying to figure out why he looks more agitated than he did a few minutes ago.

She can probably guess. It wasn't smart to kiss him; he'd played it off as a joke, a tactic to surprise him, but she suspects he's overthinking it and worrying that she might have feelings for him that he doesn't return. It shouldn't be this complicated, nothing should be, and though she thinks they're both rational people, they have this way of losing that ability when they're around each other.

Nell brought it on herself. She'd made the choice that led to this, seven months ago, and she can't undo it – she wouldn't if she could. She thought that by training with Callen she'd learn a few things and they'd part ways and that would be it. Nothing would change except that she'd be better able to take care of herself.

If she'd never approached him, they'd still be in the same place as before: friendly acquaintances who smiled at each other in the halls and would do anything for each other on a case, like everyone else on their team. But there wouldn't be this undercurrent of feeling between them, this need that tied them together in unspoken ways. …Or would there?

She's starting to wonder if their sessions only gave them an excuse, if the training made it easier to acknowledge what might have been there already. Why had she wanted him to teach her more than anyone else? Why had he thrown himself into the challenge after only a token refusal? Why did they start planning the rest of their lives around their training, when it should have been the other way around?

Looking at him now, she can't imagine seeing him as only her colleague or her boss or her acquaintance. Maybe it's an illusion of her mind, of feelings she already has, but she's almost positive she would have come to love him eventually. How could she not?

"Nell," he's uncomfortable, which isn't characteristic of him, "I don't know if this is the best time to talk to you." He glances around and she's briefly reminded of everyone lingering nearby. (Why are they still here? Does Granger want them to live in the gym or something?)

Maybe it's to delay any potential rejection when she asks, "Do you remember the night I asked you to train me?"

His unease melts away as he says warmly, "Of course I do."

And that might say something, in and of itself, because it wasn't the kind of memory that they should both remember fondly, or as anything significant. Yet they do. She could describe it in near exact detail.

"I almost didn't ask you," she reveals. "I debated it for quite a while."

He looks at her in that way he has, when he's learned something that he thinks he should have already known. "I guess it's only fair, since I almost said no."

"You did say no."

"You convinced me otherwise."

"Did it take much convincing?"

He shakes his head. "You know it didn't."

It hadn't been easy when she'd decided, seven months earlier, to approach Callen and ask him for help. She'd asked both Deeks and Kensi before him, but they'd declined. Neither had enough free time that matched up with hers. They'd both suggested she ask Callen ('The two of you are here until all hours anyway,' Deeks had pointed out).

Deeks and Kensi had no idea Callen had been her first choice to begin with. She couldn't say why he'd always been the one she pictured when she was imagining who might train her. He seemed to fit in a way no one else did. She knew he'd probably be a strict teacher, but she thought she had the best chance to get nearer to his level if he was the one training her. She'd been reluctant to approach him because it didn't seem fair to ask him to take her on when he had more responsibilities than the others. But if he was fine with it…she didn't want to miss the chance.

It was late in the evening and his desk was abandoned; she spotted him lounging on one of the couches nearby, reading case reports. Many of the lights were out, or dimmed, except the ones near him. He was the last one there, besides her. That wasn't strange; over time, they'd both found they preferred working late if it meant avoiding the alternative of coming in early.

She watched him for a minute, wondering if that was as relaxed as he ever got – going over paperwork late at night while still at work. And she wanted him to stay late on other days, too, in order to train her? It was a lot to ask of him, and he'd probably find it a pretty selfish request. She should forget it and find an actual instructor through Hetty. She turned away and –

"You can't leave without explaining why you've been silently watching me from the shadows, Nell."

She spun back around. "I…wasn't."

"Wow, your clever explanation has convinced me I was mistaken," he teased, sitting up straighter. He saw she had her belongings and must be on her way out. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "Um…yes." She glanced around, as if hoping someone would walk by and save her. Too bad everyone else they worked with had personal lives and were long gone.

Callen saw her reluctance. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" He was instantly more alert, as if expecting there to be a threat in the building he'd completely missed. As if she'd never ask him for anything if it weren't serious, and that made her feel worse, and even more selfish.

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him, taking a step back. "Never mind."

"I will mind," he insisted, before she could escape. He was met with silence, though she didn't leave, which was progress. "If you don't tell me, I'm going to harass you. Every day. Forever."

She felt herself smiling against her will. "Really?"

"Really. Come to work, here I am. Get in your car, I'm in the backseat. Grocery store, I'm in the produce aisle. At home, there I am in your closet. Okay, not that last one. Maybe."

She loved that his version of 'harassment' was basically just following her around. "I actually wouldn't put any of that past you."

"As well you shouldn't. So tell me, what's going on?"

She sighed, knowing she was defeated. At worst, he'd say no. "I was going to ask if you wanted, that is, if you'd consider…" she wrung her hands, painfully aware of how awkward she sounded. She was botching this terribly and there was no reason for it. If she could work fine with him on cases every day, why couldn't she form a coherent sentence when it came to a personal request? "What I mean is, when we're both free, maybe we could get together?"

He looked at her sharply, and she realized that by failing to adequately explain herself, she'd unintentionally asked him out.

"No!" She exclaimed, waving her hands around to try and erase what she'd said. "I don't mean together. Well, I do mean together. But not together together. Know what I mean?"

"You just said the word 'together' four times," he said carefully, trying not to laugh, or make her any more flustered than she already was. "Yet there was no context, at least that I can figure out. What exactly are you proposing we do together?"

How had she left that part out? She was incredibly grateful for the dim lighting that hid her increasing embarrassment. "Fight."

"Not as fun as I was hoping," he quipped. "You want to fight me? Should I remind you that we've done that before?"

She blinked, sure that he'd made a joke about…but he moved on too quickly for her to question it. She tried to focus, second-guessing everything for another reason – if he could throw her off-balance with a casual remark, this might not be the best idea she ever had. "Yes, but I want more than that. I'll start again. Would you be willing to train me?"

"Train you to fight? You already know how."

"I want to brush up on my self-defense skills and learn some new sparring techniques. I'm good enough to pass the tests, but I want to learn more. You're one of the best here and I think if anyone could teach me a few things, it'd be you."

No one had ever asked him anything like that before, and although he wanted to say yes, he didn't think it was wise. He wasn't sure he'd be an effective teacher and he didn't want Nell to end up disappointed, or to think less of him when he wasn't what she expected. Most importantly, he liked her a lot more than he should, and being required to spend time with her might lead him to places he'd sworn never to go.

He hesitated for a minute, wavering on what to do, before shaking his head. "I'm flattered that you would ask me, Nell, but I don't know if we'd be a good match. I'll try to think of someone else for you, though." He picked up another folder from the stack next to him, and the words were as good as a dismissal.

Nell knew a polite brush-off when she heard one. She should have let it go (after all, a few minutes prior she'd been about to walk away without even asking), but for some reason she couldn't. It was like following through had made her realize how much she wanted him, and only him, to teach her. He sparred enough with other people that if she took a few of those sessions, it wouldn't be like he was giving up that much of his time.

Her deciding factor was that his refusal hadn't sounded that convincing. For a moment, she'd been sure he was going to say yes. So while it might be selfish to persist, she chose to do it anyway. She wanted this.

"I'm sorry I asked," she said. "I shouldn't have bothered you. You probably have other – better – things to do with your time."

He glanced at her over the top of the folder. "Nell."

"Why waste it on teaching someone like me?" She continued. "If you were going to teach anyone, we could both name a dozen better candidates. People who I'm sure would benefit from your time much more than me."

"You can't possibly think that you're not worth spending time on."

She sighed, a little too dramatically, and his suspicion was confirmed. "No, Callen, I get it. You don't think I can learn to fight the way you do. You're probably right."

She held her breath when he stood up and walked over to her, thoughtfully tapping a folder against one hand. "You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," she insisted, fiddling with the shoulder strap on her bag. "Is it working?"

He hit her lightly with the folder. Why had he said no to her again? "The other person isn't supposed to know that you're manipulating them."

"You know. And it's working on you," she pointed out.

He didn't have to think about it. He'd wanted to say yes and forced himself not to. Once was hard enough, he wouldn't do it again. "Fine," he agreed, tone implying that he was doing her an immense favor (in truth, he suspected he was going to enjoy it far more than she was, for however long it lasted). Some part of him was urgently warning that if he was this easily swayed, he was in a lot of trouble; he ignored it. "I'll take you on."

"Thank you," she said, dropping the act. "I really appreciate that you'd do this for me. Whatever schedule is best for you, I'll work around it. I don't want to cut into your personal life…" she glanced around the empty room, "…of late nights here."

Her light-hearted jab was reminiscent of the comments she'd occasionally make when they discussed cases, when everyone would glance at each other in disbelief that Nell of all people would make a sarcastic joke. They didn't know her at all, and he loved it. "Watch it, Nell. You know, it's almost 10 and you're here, too."

"Huh." She'd missed that he could turn that one back around on her. "Yeah, that's unfortunate."

"How can it be when you're here with me? Not many people can say that."

She swore it was like he was setting her up. "Obviously."

"Keep antagonizing the person you asked to teach you," he warned. "You might regret it."

"I highly doubt that," she said, leveling her own challenge.

Neither of them had stopped playing the game they'd started that night.

It's seven months later and it amazes Nell what's happened since then; they'd had no idea what they were beginning.

Something about the memory is odd, though, and it's never occurred to her before.

"Callen, every time I stayed late, you were here, too," she speaks slowly, figuring it out as she explains it to him, as if he didn't know what he was doing the whole time. "You waited for me?"

"Well, yeah," he's confused. "I still do."

"Now, sure. I mean we're usually going to practice or…" she shakes her head. "Back then I thought it was coincidence."

"What is it you like to say? I don't have anywhere else to be." He can't figure out the look on her face. "I was still working, Nell. I just…happened to work late the same nights you did."

She can't make sense of it. "Why?"

He doesn't say anything.

He just looks at her.

"You stayed so I wasn't alone," she whispers, memories lining up in a new way.

Shortly after they started their training sessions, he made it more obvious – and she'd never picked up on it. He'd wander into Ops at night to annoy her about leaving. Or he'd keep inviting her downstairs until she gave in one night, and from then on, she'd stayed down there as often as her work allowed. She'd take an armchair near the couch and they'd both try to work until one of them inevitably distracted the other. Some nights they ended up staying impossibly late and didn't get any work done at all.

Her moment of realization is his, too. Callen watches a million flickering emotions cross her face and the pieces fit in a way they never have before. He sees the whole picture when he'd never seen more than bits and pieces, outlines that made him wonder, and entire blank sections that he didn't know how to fill. And it's blinding. She's blinding.

She loves him, probably as much as he loves her.

He owes her at least an attempt at an explanation. "I liked you. Since your first week when you ignored half of us and stood up to the other half. I kept my distance because it wasn't a good idea and when I started training you, I thought I could manage to keep things friendly. Professional. A combination of ignoring it and lying to myself and explaining away anything that didn't fit the narrative we were supposed to have. It worked, too. A lot of the time I didn't even let myself think along those lines. Forget lying to everyone else, I was lying to myself, and believing it."

She doesn't say anything, and he can't figure out if she's angry or upset. Whatever she is, he knows he deserves it.

"I said no when you asked me to train you because I was under the delusion that if I kept my distance, I wouldn't end up falling in love with you." He rubs his hands over his face and then looks at her again, suddenly weary. "As if it wouldn't have happened anyway."

All she can manage is, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He's well-aware that doing this here runs the risk of others hearing, but he doesn't care. He has to explain it to her; she has to know. "Nell, when I was very young, I learned that wanting something didn't mean you'd ever get it. And if you did, it just meant the inevitable loss of it would hurt you." A family, a home, friends. Love. "I have more now than I ever expected as a kid, but I've never stopped waiting for it to go away. It's not an excuse, it's an explanation, and it's the best one I have."

It takes a lot, a lot, for her to keep a tight rein on her emotions when he tells her that. She can't speak because she's sure it will undo her.

He sees it, too, and keeps talking so she won't have to. "I didn't tell you because of the chance I might lose you. I didn't want to face that. Not after…" he gestures between them, and she knows he's referring to what they've become to each other. Connected in a hundred invisible ways and the thought of losing that had been crippling to a man conditioned to stop every connection before it formed. The only thing worse than never having those ties in the first place? Having them deliberately cut by the people you loved when they chose to leave you behind.

She's been at fault here, too. She takes a deep breath and hopes her voice won't waver too badly. "I didn't think you'd ever want anything more. I thought bringing it up would make you feel as if you'd been leading me on, that you'd suggest we stop. It was safer to pretend there was nothing there."

"Nell, to say I'm bad at relationships is quite the understatement. Our jobs require so much time and energy, they're extremely dangerous, they force us to lie to everyone we know. And if the job doesn't end it, I inevitably screw up. It's why I stopped trying."

She feels the world drop out from underneath her. He can't do this to her. He wouldn't. "Tell me that's not your way of saying you don't want to…try to be with me."

"Nell," his voice softens imperceptibly, "I'm already with you."

Her voice is equal parts hopeful and unsure. "You are?"

She doesn't see it either, then. Callen thinks a case study should probably be done on the two of them.

"What have we been doing? Not only the training. Everything else that came with it." He waits for it to sink in. "Those reasons that things have never worked out for me? They never mattered with you. I realized today that I've been in a relationship for months and I've worked harder at it than any one I've had before."

He's right, and she's been doing it, too. They've been acting as if they were in the relationship they wanted instead of the one – co-workers/friends/training partners – that they outwardly claimed to have. She'd say something if she could wrap her mind around what's happening. It's a strange thing for the world to look exactly the same when everything has changed. One conversation and she has no idea how to act. They've learned to carefully orbit each other these past seven months and those rules might no longer apply. She clasps her hands behind her back to keep from reaching out to him. She isn't sure if he wants her to do that here, in front of the others. If it'd be welcome.

(Though it's kind of late to be worrying about what anyone else thinks.)

He sees her uncertainty and isn't sure where it's coming from. He steps forward until he can reach around her to take hold of her hands, pulling her closer. "Nell, you don't know how much I prayed that once you figured it out, you'd want to keep going." He falters when he realizes she hasn't actually agreed to this. "Please tell me you want to keep –"

She wrenches her hands out of his and he's thinking that's a sign to back away when she pulls him down to kiss him. It's not as much that they forget where they are as they both simultaneously decide not to care, and everything they've been holding back breaks wide open. Nell can't describe it, it's more than sparks – she would swear colors are exploding inside her mind with the way the feelings tear through her, throwing her off-balance. Thankfully he's still there, keeping her upright and sane, though she thinks she wouldn't mind falling apart with him.

Her entire perception of the universe dims until it encompasses only herself and the man standing in front of her. She should have at least suspected what it'd be like. They've always had affection for each other and a tangible chemistry, and that was before they'd been in love. She'd imagined what it might be like if they went further, though she'd always written it off as unlikely and thus not worth speculating about too much.

She'd been very, very wrong.

When Callen feels her lips curve into a smile against his, he can't help matching it. He's never felt anything like it before, this kind of connection with another person. There's so much he has to tell her and he doesn't know if he can adequately explain. They've failed, considerably, at talking about their feelings before, and they have no guarantees either of them will get any better at it, so he deepens the kiss and tries to tell her with actions, instead.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly when he pulls back. "I wish I'd told you months ago. We could have avoided…"

She knows what he means. All the hurt they'd inadvertently caused each other by waiting so long. "It was my fault, too. Forget it, Callen, that doesn't matter anymore."

When he hugs her, an unexpected wave of relief hits her as she realizes that after months of uncertainty they're finally here. Despite the ways they've sabotaged themselves, they made it. She wants to tell him so many things. How long she's wanted this, and exactly how much he means to her and why, but she'll save it for later. If she starts, she won't be able to stop.

There's only one thing, right now, that she needs him to hear. "I'm in love with you, too."

He frames her face with his hands. "You are far more than I…imagined someone could be." As if that isn't enough he adds, "To me."

She nods thoughtfully. "I am pretty great."

"And amazingly humble."

She laughs and he's going to kiss her again when Deeks (who's set a personal world record for staying quiet thus far) interrupts with, "You two really set the bar high for professionalism. Ah, what am I saying, you always have."

Callen's sure his hearing must be going. "You want to lecture us on professionalism?"

Deeks won't be dissuaded. He's been waiting for this day. "I have a question: how do two people fall in love, yet have no idea that the other feels the same way? No, better question: how does everyone in their life know they belong together before they do?"

The second question, and its implication, surprises Nell. She glances around, taking in the unnatural silence of the room. Most people are trying (and failing) to pretend like they haven't noticed anything amiss. Hetty's face is carefully blank, which could mean anything, and Granger has his arms crossed, mouth set in disapproval (although that's usually his normal expression when looking at Callen).

Deeks regards his colleagues with a gravity that no one's used to from him. "When you were asking around for a teacher, aren't you glad Kensi and I turned you down?" The question lingers with more intent than it should have had.

Kensi reads the surprise on Nell's face and tries to explain. "Deeks convinced me to do it. He had a list of reasons and most of them were sound, like how much better Callen would be at teaching you than us, and how you both already got along so well. A few other reasons were out there, and I mostly wanted to prove him wrong on that front. And then time passed, and it turned out he was right."

Deeks is grinning, but there's no trace of smugness, only genuine happiness for his friends. "I hope neither of you are mad." He turns to Nell. "If you and Callen hadn't gotten along – as I was convinced you would – one of us was going to step in and offer to teach you, instead."

"I'm not mad," Nell assures them. She couldn't be when it had led to one of the best things in her life. She still finds it hard to wrap her mind around everyone knowing before they did. "You can't all have known."

Eric's insanely glad this game is over. He's been waiting forever. "Eventually, yes, we did. Half of us thought you were denying it to try and hide it, the other half thought you might just be that oblivious about what was going on. Guess the 'oblivious' group won out in the end."

"I should have known your cluelessness wasn't an act," Sam tells his partner, clearly disappointed in himself.

Nell shakes her head at them. "You're exaggerating."

"Come on, Nell. How can you think either of you did any good at hiding it? I mean, except from each other." Deeks jerks his thumb toward the man on the bench behind Hetty, "Even Cameron knew."

"I did," Cameron confirms, mutters something about 'crazy together'.

"Shut up, Cameron," Callen snaps, but he's not even mad.

"And none of you could have told us?" Nell demands, then considers what she's saying. "I guess there were the questions, and jokes, and insinuations, and those rumors…what is wrong with us?"

"A question for the ages," Deeks says cheerfully. "But it's been a hell of a show. Thank you for that."

"Agents Callen and Jones," Granger finally gathers himself, as if on cue, "I don't know if I have the words."

"Then don't look for them," Callen suggests.

Granger knew this day was coming, and he's reconsidered his options a dozen times, yet he always reaches the same conclusion. "This is highly unusual. I don't have to tell you it's not allowed, but as you aptly pointed out a few minutes ago – in the middle of the room for everyone you work with, including your bosses, to hear – you two have essentially been in a relationship for months now and your work hasn't suffered. In fact, you've gotten better. You've left me with no choice except to…do nothing."

Nell wants to hug him and wisely restrains herself. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't pretend I had a choice," Granger says. "I'd rather have both of you than neither of you." He knows, as well as everyone else, that they'll never agree to separate teams. If he makes them choose between NCIS and each other, he'll never see them again. He'll catch hell for this, but it's preferable to the alternative of explaining why he stood back and allowed one of their best teams to fall apart on his watch.

Callen's relieved that a fight he'd been anticipating isn't going to happen. He also knows what the older man is going to have to deal with on their behalf. "We appreciate it," he tells their boss, extending his hand.

Granger doesn't miss the depth of the words and acknowledges them by shaking Callen's hand. Then he nods stiffly and adds, "This doesn't mean I want to see it. The two of you take it somewhere else. Preferably far away from me."

"If kissing someone means I get a free pass for the day, I'm game." Deeks looks around, and when Kensi rolls her eyes, he turns to the next closest target. "Get over here, Eric."

"Hey, I'm not giving this away for free," Eric informs him.

"Be that way," Deeks sounds disappointed. "Hell, I'll kiss you, Granger, if you're so amenable."

Granger rubs his forehead and then shoves Deeks away when he gets entirely too close. "I didn't dismiss anyone. We have a few more things to go over."

"I don't know, it kind of sounded like a dismissal," Callen argues.

"Shut up," Nell hisses, "before he lets everyone go and makes you stay overnight."

Hmm. Granger thinks he might like this. "Better listen to her, Callen. She could make your life a whole lot easier. Maybe she'll do the impossible and make you more tolerable, too."

"Don't worry, the day I realize she's turning me into someone you like, I'll just break up with her."

"You could try," she scoffs, before realizing that makes her sound a little bit psychotic.

Callen's going to make another joke. Instead, he searches her face and then kisses her briefly. "No," he shakes his head, "I couldn't." He turns back to their boss. "I'm sorry, sir, you might have to start accepting that there's a good chance I'll turn into your favorite agent."

"I wish I could fire you," Granger sighs.

"And here I naively thought the entertainment was over," Deeks stage whispers to Kensi. "I think it's only starting to begin."

"You can fire me," Callen's saying, "I'll retire to…where are you going? It's Hawaii, right? I'll be there." He adds as an afterthought, "If Nell likes Hawaii."

Granger has no idea how Callen's figured out where he planned to retire – it would be his luck to be drinking on the beach and then Callen would show up to ensure he had as vexing a retirement as he'd had a career.

"That's it," Granger declares. "I'm leading class tomorrow, too. Be here at 0800."

Everyone starts arguing with him, and Nell doesn't know if she can take a repeat of today. "Let's call in sick tomorrow," she tells Callen, who agrees.

Granger won't be played. "Anyone who skips tomorrow will no doubt face the never ending harassment of their peers, since I'll keep forcing everyone to come in each morning, until the whole team's here."

Deeks throws a manual at Callen. "If you don't show up, I'm personally coming to your house and dragging you here. I may not be able to do it alone, but I think I can recruit the others to help."

Sam, Kensi, and Eric voice their agreement.

"We'll be here," Nell promises, talking loudly over Callen who's claiming his house is like a fortress and let them try to come and take him.

"Maybe take an actual look through the manual," Sam tells Callen, "since we're being punished thanks to you."

"Wait a minute, thanks to me?" Callen can hardly take the injustice. "I think everyone made it perfectly clear they didn't want to participate today, so how am I the one that's getting –"

Nell puts an arm around his neck and stretches up to kiss him. It's the best strategy, though she suspects she's giving him too many ideas. They both like winning and it's not going to take him long to figure it out and turn it back around on her.

(Though if they start settling things this way, it might make her more inclined to provoke him.)

She dimly hears Granger in the background. "What did I say about that? Though if you can get Callen to shut up, I'll make an exception."

Callen doesn't miss Granger clueing him in. "Nell, you can't win that way!"

"I wasn't trying –"

"I'm kidding," he smirks. "Win that way whenever you want."

"Owen!" Hetty calls as she walks over with a book for him. "We got these in today, here's your copy and everyone else can find theirs upstairs."

Granger glances at it. "No. No. No, Hetty."

Any inkling he'd ever had that Henrietta Lange hated him was confirmed in that moment.

Deeks peers around Granger's shoulder to see that their boss is holding the updated firearms qualification manual. "How much can they have changed? Realistically?"

"Chapters 3 through 10 have been completely revised," Hetty says. "Or have they? Guess you'll have to read it to find out. Owen, you can take point on this one, too. I'll arrange time at one of our training facilities."

"Oh, one of those fake houses?" Deeks sounds way too into this. "I love those places. I'll volunteer to play the criminal you have to apprehend, I excel at the role. Getting away from everyone, humiliating them with my…criminal skills. It's going to be fun."

"I am going to shoot you so many times," Kensi says, sweetly.

"More hide and seek, Agent Blye," Granger reminds her. "Less hide and murder."

"He resisted."

Granger thinks on that. "I'll allow it."

"It hasn't happened yet!" Deeks exclaims.

"I don't have to participate in that, right?" Eric asks, then sighs forlornly when Hetty informs him that he does.

"I could use some practice," Nell admits. "I'm a little rusty. I don't get down to the shooting range as much as I'd like."

Callen's well aware of that. "Do you know there are lots of high-pressure situations and different environments that you should learn to shoot in so if the occasion arises, you're more prepared?"

Sam knows where this is going; the whole building probably knows. "Whatever you're thinking, G, I want no part of it."

"Come on, Sam, you'll miss out," he cajoles. "Anyone can join us. My teaching services are available for free."

No one speaks. "The silence is…deafening," Nell remarks.

"Your loss," Callen says, as if he isn't pleased it'll be him and Nell, like usual. "Sir, let me see that manual, I'll make my own notes where it needs to be improved."

Granger willingly hands it over. He's never going to get them back under control today. "Everyone get out of here."

He ignores their happy cheering and laughter as he heads for the exit. He has to prepare himself for tomorrow…and the next several months.

The six of them start arguing amongst themselves about the merits of target practice from a helicopter. Forget months, he's going to be dealing with them for years. (Like he always has, since the day he met them.)

He's walking away, which means no one sees him smile.

XXXXXX