Quotes from episode 3x09

Don't be stupid

The week that followed was a week Nell never wanted to see a repeat of. And neither did anyone else. In the days after Sam's absence they miraculously did not have a single case pop up, which meant they were all required to catch up on their paperwork or work on cold cases. Sitting at their desks, doing nothing useful combined with Sam's lack of presence hanging over their heads and weighing heavily on their minds made them restless, tense, frustrated and argumentative. Nobody had any interest in paperwork. It would just be easier burying themselves in work, chasing criminals, interrogating suspects, shooting somebody, especially shooting somebody.

Callen stared at his reports for hours on end, brooding silently or pummelled the punching bag, brooding silently or used up a whole NCIS supply of bullets at the shooting range, you guessed it, brooding silently. Kensi and Deeks bickered non-stop over every single thing, resulting in Kensi storming off every two hours or so only to return twenty minutes later to resume what she had been doing; bickering. Eric developed a habit of nervous eating, otherwise called stuffing one's face with snacks, such as Oreo's every time someone looked at him funny. Hetty hardly got out of her office, opting to sit by the phone and stare at it as if will it to ring. It was rather unusual for their leader. The only one actually working was Nell. Her hands flew over the keyboard day and night. She finished all of her paperwork, dug into several cold cases, kept an illegal eye on any movements indicating something might be happening with Sam and continued searching for Callen's family at night. She needed to keep herself busy else she started to think and with her overactive brain it was not a good idea. The goal was to exhaust herself to the point where the only thing left to do was to fall face first into bed. Her exhaustion quickly materialised itself as an unpredictable temper. The support staff avoided her at all costs after she chucked an apple at one of them for touching her tablet.

When Sam missed his first scheduled check-in, she didn't worry (she told herself she didn't worry). Undercover work was unpredictable and one temporary loss of contact was normal, expected even. When he missed his second consecutive check-in, Nell felt cold fear grip her heart and she stayed glued to her computer, constantly refreshing her programs just so she felt she was actually doing something useful. And she prayed. Even if she wasn't religious. But there was still no use alarming anybody. When he failed to check-in for the third time, Nell raised all hell. And the Devil herself.

Not noticing it was three in the morning, much less caring she was not supposed to know anything about Sam's mission, she dialled Hetty's number. It goes without saying, her boss was not happy being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Miss Jones? What in the world-"

"Hetty, you need to come in!"

"In? In where? Are you at work already? Or did you not leave at all? Miss Jones, this is-" Feeling a lecture about her unhealthy habits coming up, Nell once again interrupted her already irate boss.

"Hetty! It's Sam. He failed to check-in three times in a row and I know it's not official Agency's policy..." She trailed of as a Cia report popped on her screen. Her blood froze in her veins and her cell clattered to the floor from her numb fingers. She promised to have his back. To Callen. And to herself. ...dead... ...tortured... ...third body... She promised. ...remains... ...black male... ...forty years of age... Why didn't she say something when he first failed to check in? ...badly burned... ...preventing identification... Too late. She was too late.

Please, no. Not Sam. Not big, strong, warm, compassionate man. His family, his kids, Callen...

She didn't know how long she sat at her computer, staring ahead unseeing, swallowing a bile and blaming herself but suddenly Hetty was at her side, shaking her out of her stupor. The next few hours passed in a blur of activity for Nell. She was grateful for she didn't have time to dissect her feelings. However, time stopped still when she saw Callen marching through the front door, directly towards Hetty's office. An expression on his face revealed he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. A bile rose into her throat but she pushed it down. They didn't have time for this.

Nell turned away, not wanting to see him receive the news, but didn't leave because a side of her wanted to be there for him. As it happened she didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Miss Jones!" She knew what was coming but still hoped against hope, she was wrong. She stepped into Hetty's office slowly, focusing all her attention on her boss. "Nell, please brief Mr. Callen on the situation." Hetty's eyes were full of compassion but Nell still wondered if Hetty was punishing her. She took a deep breath, pushing her feelings to some bottomless pit, hoping they never need to be examined again, already knowing they will reappear, probably with vigour.

She pulled the information on her tablet, not because she needed to read from it (she memorized the report the first time she read it and will stay etched into her brain till the day she died) but to not have to look him in the eye. Not while she informed him that his worst nightmare came true.

"Two days ago Cia lost touch with Agent Hanna and two of its own Agents in the region. Both Cia Agents have been confirmed dead. They were tortured before they were killed. And there is a third body. At approximately 17.30 the remains of a black male approximately 40 years of age were found in a field 20 kilometres outside of Khartoum. The body was badly burned preventing immediate identification." She paused, looking up at Hetty, internally begging her to take over but she just nodded for her to go on. Nell swallowed hard as her eyes met his, finally not being able to pretend he wasn't in the room anymore. His eyes bore into hers as if he could will her to not say what she was about to say. She didn't look back down as she finished her report. "Agent Hanna missed his last three check-ins. The body is a match for Sam - in height and weight."

"I should have been with him," he accused. Hetty, Nell, mostly himself. "I have to go find him."

"Of course, Mr. Callen. The arrangements are being set as we speak."

"Why didn't we know this before? It's been two days, three missed appointments. I should have known before this." For a moment he stood there, a tragic figure, a confused child, helpless and without direction. And there was no way for Nell to make it better.

"Mr. Callen, there was no need for alarm before. It was an undercover mission. You know better than anybody how unpredictable-" But he didn't hear her, didn't hear a word out of her mouth. He wasn't in the mood to be reasonable. He was in the mood to be angry and resentful and temperamental and intense. Very intense. And all of it was focused on Nell.

"You should have told me! You said you have his back!" She knew he didn't really mean it, didn't think straight, that he needed someone to blame at the moment, that he will be sorry, that he will apologize and make it up to her, that it wasn't really her fault and she had already accused herself far worse than he ever could, beating herself up over and over again but still, it hurt her heart and her soul to hear him say those words.

"Mr. Callen! Enough!" Hetty scolded him but he had already stormed off. Once again, Nell squished her mounting guilt and hurt under her shoe and squared her shoulders.

"It's alright, Hetty."

"It is certainly not! It's not your fault, I hope you know that."

"I can take it," she told her with a week smile, hoping she really could. Her stomach churned in protest, threatening to overturn on her for the umpteenth time that morning. It would have been a good idea to console it with some food instead of further abusing it with coffee. But she had no time (or inclination) to eat in a situation like this.

An hour later everybody was gathered in Ops. It was a change of scenery, what with Callen briefing them with Hetty at his side. He tried to keep it professional and no one knew better than Nell how hard it was to put on a face for others. She wasn't surprised, that Hetty took over occasionally or when he called upon Nell to read out the report.

"Nell, please read the C.I.A. report - verbatim." His eyes pleaded for forgiveness and she gave him a slight nod. She had already forgiven him, almost the moment he said those hurtful words to her. It was easy, nothing compared to how hard it was going to be to forgive herself.

She thought it will be easier, reading it aloud for the second time. But it wasn't, not with his sad, sad blue eyes boring into her. And not with Kensi at the brink of tears, not with Deeks staring at the floor dejectedly, not with Eric fidgeting in the chair nervously. She could hardly keep her voice from breaking and afterwards she left further discussion to the rest of the team.

Eric finally got her attention.

"Travel arrangements to Khartoum are confirmed. They are ready when you are." She knew it was coming but his sudden movement towards the exit startled her nevertheless.

"Mr. Callen." Hetty stopped him in his tracks. "It appears that Agent Salleh is right. There is a leak in the C.I.A.'s chain of command."

"I understand." Nell felt nauseous. Of course he understood. Better than anyone. And he didn't care. Didn't care one bit what happened to him. He just ran head-first into the danger, jumping out of running cars and high buildings, entering places guns blazing, no regard for his life. She got it, admired it even, but just wished he was a little less fearless. Because it was not always a good thing. Not when people counted on you coming back. And she was very afraid that he was never coming back if Sam was dead. At least Callen they knew was never coming back. If by some miracle he didn't get himself killed, he will never be the way he was again. It may break him completely and there will be no way to get him back. And they wanted him to come back. She wanted him to come back. It occurred to her she should tell him that. As soon as the world stopped spinning.

For a petite woman whose job consisted mostly of desk work, Nell Jones was impressively strong. Not that she had any illusions she could take on the likes of Agent Callen. That's why she knew he came willingly albeit in astonishment when she accosted his elbow out of nowhere and pulled him into a very tight little blind spot that she knew of.

"Nell..."

She had a whole motivational speech prepared but being this close to him what she really wanted to do was either embarrass herself by bursting into a teary goodbye or kiss him senseless.

"Nell, about what I said before. I was out of line. I'm so sor-"

She interrupted his apology with a fierce kiss, standing on her tiptoes and gripping the lapels of his jacket in her fists. He responded in kind, tangling a hand in her short hair. She broke the kiss just as abruptly as she started it but still held onto him, feeling woozy.

"You go find Sam. Do what you need to do. But then come back. You do have people here, you know. The team needs you and it will fall apart without you. And I... I will miss you." She felt herself getting teary-eyed and tried to gather her bearings. "So, just- Don't be stupid." It occurred to her later that her last words to him might have been: Don't be stupid but they seemed somehow appropriate for the occasion and Callen's chuckle confirmed that.

"You think everybody's stupid, Miss genius-level IQ," he teased. She wanted to play along, really she did. But her genius brain just wouldn't cooperate. Noticing her struggle, Callen pulled her into an embrace, whispering in her ear. "I'll be careful. I promise." It was all she could have hoped for.

After Callen took off there was nothing left to do. All arrangements were taken care of and all leads to find the leak in Cia chain of command followed through or set to follow through. It was time to recoup, shower, eat something, catch up on some sleep. Those were Hetty's direct orders.

Nell tried to do as she was told, she really did. She reluctantly left after Hetty pried a tablet from her stiff fingers and sent her packing with an unrelenting patent Hetty glare. She took a long shower and washed her hair when a glance in the mirror revealed a two days old, greasing tangled mess of something that used to be a cute shiny auburn bob. God, had she really walked around the mission like this? She spied some cold Chinese takeout in her fridge (How long has that been there?) but decided against it because she was pretty sure there was nothing green in her food the last time she was eating it. On the lookout for edible things in her kitchen she discovered a pack of Crackers and washed it down with a cup of tea (Let it be noted, she passed on coffee). Then she tossed and turned in her bed for an hour, imagining worst case scenarios, which later replayed in her sleep. She slept in twenty minute intervals, a phone on her pillow pinging with updates periodically. Needless to say, Nell Jones was the first of the team back at work. Feeling none too refreshed from her sleep.

Upon arriving Hetty sent her a reproachful look but did not comment on her intelligence analyst already hard at work, gulping down coffee like her life depended on it.

It wasn't long after Hetty before the rest of the team showed up at work. They all knew Callen was due to check in with news from the morgue in Khartoum. The more time passed the tenser the air around the Mission was. Hetty sat in her office, waiting by the phone, while everyone else found themselves some work to do in the hearing range of her office. When the phone rang, Nell could feel the acid in her oesophagus rising. That newly filled cup in her hand was not helping with the matter. She held her breath until she heard Hetty sigh: "Thank god." They were all a little religious those days.

The burned body was not Sam but everyone's relief at that was short lived as they still had no idea where Sam was and if his cover had been blown or not.

Some time later Nell finally got to have a direct contact with Callen over the satellite phone. Hearing his voice did wonders to her nerves. She was feeling relatively calm. She was after all in her element; tablet in her hands, passing information to agent in field. She could do this, she could separate her personal feelings from her job. Really, she could.

"I may have just been made."

And then he goes and says something like this and all her doubts, accompanied by wanting to vomit and hardly being able to breath, return with vengeance. It was agonizing eighteen minutes before he made contact again to verify someone's identity.

"I got eyes on Sam." Callen's sudden not quite exclamation made her jump from her chair in surprise, gluing her eyes to the big screen where live footage was being streamed, showing the ever impressive form of Sam Hanna. A collective sigh of relief ran through the building. Only when her jaw relaxed, Nell realized she had been practically gritting her teeth for days. It was rather painful now that she brought attention to it.

She had no idea what was running through Callen's mind but she was sure it was a very emotional moment for him too. Not that he would admit it to anyone. Still, she wished she could catch at least a glimpse of his expression; it would put her at peace.

But then, he was off again and it was business as usual. And that's how the next two days of Nell's life rolled. Short check-ins between hours of silence. Nothing was out of order, agents were out in the field and technical staff was in Ops, supplying them with information and watching from afar. Everybody was doing what they were supposed to. It was only her that was different. It was Nell Jones that was a mess inside. She tried very hard not to acknowledge the rollercoaster of emotions. At least not until this mission was over. And just as she was trying very hard to convince herself to hold it together for a little while longer, she remembered once again it will never be over. Yes, this job will end but there will always be another one after that. Will she really be able to handle that without collapsing underneath the pressure?

Nell was usually pretty confidant, but she wasn't so sure on this. And the more the case unrolled the more uncertain she was. She was usually a very sympathetic person who strongly believed in justice but as the case started getting bigger and even more dangerous, she didn't wish that a criminal be brought to justice. She wished Callen and Sam left those men to be somebody else's problem. She saw a mass grave and guiltily wished they packed their bags and hoped on the first plane home. Of course they didn't do that but it didn't change the fact that she was seriously screwed up in the head.

It was why people shouldn't get involved with their co-workers. Especially not in jobs like these. She totally got the famous Gibbs' rule number twelve (must be a smart man, that Gibbs character). It messes with your mind, makes you doubt everything you ever believed in, influences your professional decisions and makes fear a factor that triumphs over all rational thought. And Nell was absolutely terrified. She already felt like she has to throw up all the time and they shared like two and a half kisses.

The moment she got confirmation their plane landed safely on the American soil, she for once picked up her stuff in frenzy, bid a hasty goodbye to Eric and left the Mission before anybody taught to question her sudden eagerness to leave. She would usually wait for the agents to come back and check them for any injuries or sometimes she was the one to debrief them, but Nell was physically and emotionally drained and could not stomach the thought of going through the details of the case right at that moment.

What she really needed was some alone time with her feelings and her fears. She needed to sort them out before they became a real problem. She ordered a pizza, draw herself a bath and opened a bottle of red wine (none of that cheep stuff). Then she put on some comfortable yoga pants and a t-shirt that was a few sizes too big for her small frame and planted herself on the couch, watching mindless TV shows and soothing her tense muscles with another glass of wine. On second thought she had done enough of thinking in the last few weeks to last her a decade. She could use a night to unplug.

It was nearing midnight when her TV series and wine induced sleep was interrupted. She woke up disoriented, not certain what woke her when she heard another knock on her door. Ungracefully getting up from the couch with dry mouth from the wine earlier in the evening, she grumbled in annoyance, certain there was a dissatisfied neighbour on the other side of the door. What she could have possibly done when she could hardly remember when she was last at home for longer than five hours at once was anyone's guess. She didn't bother to smooth her hair down (that was an utter mess after falling asleep right after bath) or pull up her shirt that was falling of her shoulder when she stumbled over her own bare feet to open the door. Upon later consideration she really should check the peephole before opening the door because that certainly wasn't any of her neighbours. Unless one of them turned into extremely sexy, blue eyed, leather wearing, gun wielding NCIS Agent.