Well, this is the end. I always hate coming to the end because I have so much fun writing these stories, but everything ends. I hope you enjoyed reading it-and enjoy this chapter. As always, I really enjoy your comments! Thanks! BTW, I've already started the sequel, so I hope you'll want to read about Callen's journey into fatherhood with Sam as his mentor. ;-)

Chapter 23

"Agent Callen experienced what is known as stress cardiomyopathy or 'broken heart syndrome.'" Hetty and Sam, seated across from Dr. Marchand, cast a glance at each other but said nothing. Marchand continued, "Although the symptoms are similar to one, stress cardiomyopathy is not the same as cardiac arrest. Cardiac arrest results from blockage or blood clots of the arteries. Stress cardiomyopathy, on the other hand, most often results from intense, unexpected emotional or physical stress."

"I asked you, Doctor," Sam immediately and angrily interjected, "if Callen's nightmares posed any danger to him."

Hetty turned to him, "Mr. Hanna, please let Dr. Marchand finish."

Marchand deferred and acknowledged Sam's anger. "Yes, you did, Agent Hanna. I didn't mention stress cardiomyopathy because there's no way to medically predict who, what, and when it might occur. And," before Sam could say anything in response, "there's no medical way to prevent it."

"You said, Dr. Marchand," Hetty interposed, "that stress cardiomyopathy is not the same as cardiac arrest."

"I did."

"Would you please explain to us how it's different."

Marchand's shoulders relaxed noticeably, "That's the good news."

Hetty and Sam looked at one another again and waited.

xxxxxx

By the time Sam stepped into Callen's room almost 68 hours later, Anna, Arkady, Garrison, Hetty, and the entire team had all had brief visits with him. Sam wasn't going to stay long this time. He needed rest as much as Callen.

Callen greeted him with a smile, "I thought my partner would be the first one to come see me."

Sam laughed, "You mean you aren't sick of me, yet?"

Callen looked surprised, "Why would I be sick of you?"

Now it was Sam's turn to look surprised—and just a little crestfallen. "Seriously, G?"

Callen's expression of surprise didn't change. "Honestly, big guy, why would I be sick of you? You just got here."

"Well," Sam said with a shrug as he pulled a chair up to Callen's bed, "there's no reason you should be sick of me, G."

Once Sam was comfortably settled in his chair, he smiled that mischievous smile. "'Broken heart syndrome'? Has Anna been mean to you, G? I could have a talk with her."

Callen rolled his eyes, "I've heard all the 'broken heart' jokes I think I ever want to hear from Deeks already. In fact, that's about the only thing I heard from Deeks."

"Okay, okay," Sam said, his eyes still smiling. He turned quiet and just watched Callen for a moment before saying anything, and when he did, he spoke frankly, "I'm glad you're alright, G."

"You and me both," Callen replied with evident relief.

"No, I mean it," Sam said looking steadily at Callen. Callen waited. "I almost lost you, G. Twice."

"I know, Sam," G said and held Sam's gaze. "And I'm not sick of you."

Neither one spoke for several moments. Sam broke the silence. "You knew I was here?"

"I knew you were here, Sam." He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I know you probably stayed for hours."

"Almost forty-eight."

Callen looked surprised, "You must be exhausted."

"Just a little," he admitted and waited for Callen to continue.

"I don't remember everything, Sam, which is probably a good thing. But I remember some things." Callen broke off and studied the sheets on the bed. Sam could only imagine how difficult this was for Callen

"You don't need to go over it, G."

Callen raised a hand and waved off Sam's objections. "I want you to know, Sam, what it meant, hearing your voice when I needed to hear it, when I needed to know I was safe." He hesitated, looked at Sam quickly, almost with embarrassment, and then looked away. "And it wasn't just hearing your voice that helped."

Sam shifted in his chair and when he finally looked at Callen, Callen was still studying the sheets on the bed. Sam smiled, "I knew there would come a time when my parenting skills would prove valuable in our partnership."

"I am not one of your kids."

"No, you're not. Aiden and Kam are more disciplined," Sam replied. "And, they are much less likely to get into trouble."

Callen gave him a look of exasperation, "It's the job."

"Uh-huh. In case you've forgotten—due to your recent coma—you and I have the same job, but somehow I never seem to get into as much trouble as you do."

"Maybe," Callen said looking somewhat dejected and apologetic, "you should get another, more disciplined, less risk-prone partner. I'd understand. You need less stress in your life now. After all," and the sliver of a smile appeared on Callen's face, "a man your age has to take care of himself."

"And put you with a rookie? Hetty would never allow it; that would be a recipe for disaster."

"I could show him—or her—the ropes."

"If the ropes don't hang the two of you first."

"There you go, jinxing me again."

As the conversation stalled, a nurse entered to check Callen and Sam stood up to leave.

Callen turned to the nurse, "Can you give us a minute, please?"

The nurse smiled as she went to the door, "Only a minute, Agent Callen. You've had too many visitors today. You need to rest."

When Callen and Sam were alone again, Sam came over to the bed.

"I mean it, Sam. I don't know if I could have made it through this time without you."

"This time?"

"Any of the times, but this time especially."

"G, we're partners. Being there for each other is what partners do." His expression softened and he looked at Callen with undisguised affection. "One of the things I've recently learned firsthand, G, is that everyone—no matter their age, no matter if they're a man or a woman—needs comforting now and again. It's what keeps us all human, being able to give and being able to accept comfort."

The tears welled up in Callen's eyes, and he instinctively struggled to hold them back. "Thanks, Sam."

Sam put out his hand. Callen grasped it firmly and Sam let Callen pull him in close and give him a brief embrace. When he stood up to leave, Sam smiled at his partner, the tracks of a tear or two now evident on both their faces.

xxxxxx

Callen received a clean bill of health about two weeks after he was discharged from the hospital. Aside from a minor issue with physical balance and temporary loss of memory—Callen didn't remember much about the entire operation but was assured this memory would eventually return—Callen had suffered no major adverse effects from either the drug overdose or the medically-induced coma. And, as was expected and completely normal, he recovered fully from the stress cardiomyopathy incident, and there was little fear that he would suffer from such an episode again. Once he'd been cleared physically, like every other agent, Callen had to be cleared by Nate.

Even though he trusted Nate as much as he could trust a shrink, Callen never enjoyed it when he had to have an "official" session with him. Everyone, especially Nate, knew that these sessions wouldn't result in any major breakthroughs for Callen. After more than 40 years, Callen had developed an effective mechanism for dealing with his emotional issues, and Nate was not about to cause any disruption. There would be no point other than experimenting with new theories and practices, and Nate wasn't interested in experimenting on his fellow team members. The only thing Nate really wanted to learn in his meetings with Callen was whether or not Callen was still able to manage his personal traumas enough to be able to function well enough to not be a danger to himself or to the other members of his team. So far, Callen had always been able to do this. Nate never wanted to predict the possible outcome of any session, but when he met with Callen in a few days, he predicted that Callen would demonstrate the same ability to compartmentalize his emotions and function unencumbered by them as he had when Nate first met him.

When Callen arrived at OSP late the evening before his scheduled session with Nate to visit the firing range for some practice, he felt almost 100%. He hadn't returned to OSP until this night, and he enjoyed the solitude.

As he was emptying his tenth clip, the door opened and Sam entered. He leaned against the wall and watched his partner until he'd completed firing. Callen turned and Sam smiled, "Impressive, G. I thought you'd be rustier."

"I was, about six clips ago, but it's like riding a bike, I guess—you never really forget how."

"Only you would compare firing a pistol with something as innocent as riding a bike."

"Maybe I'm just a natural at both. Besides, riding a bike isn't always innocent. Remember that time Jasper almost ran you over? He could have caused some serious injury coming down that hill at almost 40 miles an hour."

"He would have suffered much more serious injuries than me if he'd hit me."

Callen took the empty clips and headed to the armory to clean his pistol. Sam followed.

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Went by your place to see how you were doing. Anna told me where you'd be." He watched his partner for a moment. "So, how are you doing, G?"

While they talked, Callen took apart and cleaned his pistol, seldom looking at Sam who watched his partner closely.

"I'm good, Sam. Really."

"When are you meeting with Nate?"

"Tomorrow."

"You ready for that?"

At that question, Callen stopped and looked at Sam. "Is anybody ready to meet with Nate?"

"I guess not. But do you think you're ready?"

"I'll know after tomorrow if I was ready." Callen smiled, "You miss me, don't you, Sam?"

Sam smiled but then grew serious, "Seeing Nate helped me, G. He's a good guy, and he's good at what he does."

"For a shrink."

"For a shrink," Sam acknowledged.

"I know he is. And I know he helped you, Sam. We've all kept him pretty busy the last few months."

Callen had finished cleaning his gun and put it away, but the two of them stayed and talked.

"Yea, we have," Sam agreed. "You know, I thought of quitting after Michelle's death." Callen waited for Sam to continue. "I told Aiden and Kam I was thinking of quitting. You know one of the questions Kam asked me?" Callen cocked his head but said nothing. "She asked, 'You don't want to be partners with Uncle Callen anymore?'"

Callen just smiled as Sam continued, "And then I realized that I wasn't going to let Tahir take anymore of my life. He'd taken Michelle—and I could never get her back—but I still had Aiden and Kam, and they are my life. I also realized that working at NCIS—with you and the rest of the team—is part of my life. And I wasn't going to give up any more of what made my life my life. It's who I am, it's what we do."

Callen looked at Sam for quite some time, so long, in fact, that Sam started to get impatient, before he spoke. "I thought you were thinking about quitting, but I'm glad you didn't, Sam. It'd be a pain to train a new partner—and I doubt that I could ever find a partner to equal you." He reached out and offered his hand to Sam, and they embraced. When they separated, Callen looked at Sam with a glint in his eye and asked, "And if you had quit, Sam, who would I ask when I need parenting tips?"

Sam stared at Callen and then the import of what he had just said hit him, and he grabbed Callen by the shoulders. "You mean, there's going to be a lower case g?" Callen simply nodded and shrugged his shoulders.

"You're going to be Uncle Sam," and then he crinkled his brow. "Oh my god, I hope that doesn't mean that we'll have pictures of you in a striped coat, top hat, and with a white beard around the house." He looked at Sam, but Sam just smiled and smiled.

"I don't care how Little G draws me. I wouldn't quit now no matter what happens because, partner, I can't wait to see you go through the paces of fatherhood."

"I bet, but I'm relying on you to offer me some pointers, buddy. I mean, it's not as if I had any experience with a father when I was growing up. Or a mother."

Sam grew serious. "You know I'll offer you any advice you want, G, but you also know that you're not very willing to take any when it's offered."

"True, but you've never offered me advice on something that I've never had experience with. Fatherhood is different. For both of us."

"That's right. Arkady wasn't around for Anna, but she did have her mom." He reflected. "Who knows?"

"You, me, and Anna."

"Hetty? Garrison? Arkady?"

Callen shook his head, "Just us three."

Sam grew quiet and emotional, "Michelle would be thrilled for you and Anna, G." He mentally shook himself, "So, what do you want to know first?"

"Nothing yet. I have a few months to learn, but I have something for you."

"For me?"

"Well, not actually for you. It's more about you."

Sam looked decidedly confused.

"I know you don't think I'm a tattoo person, . . . "

Sam groaned, "G, . . . ."

Callen continued, ". . . but I disagree. I'm not a design tattoo person, granted, but there are all kinds of tattoos for all kinds of people, so I went the David Beckham route—at least one of the Beckham routes." He removed his shirt while Sam watched with more than a little trepidation. When Callen's shirt was off, Sam didn't notice a tattoo anywhere on his torso.

"You're not taking anything else off, are you?" Sam asked and Callen gave him a look. He looked at Callen and raised his hands in a question. Callen turned so that his left side faced Sam and then he lifted his left arm. There on the left side of his torso in a straight line under his arm, Sam saw a tattoo, no more than one inch in height, in the Cyrillic alphabet: Я в долгу Сэм моей жизни. It was very well done.

"That's actually pretty cool, G," Sam said as G pulled his shirt back on.

"I got a discount, too," he smiled mischievously. "I think the tattooist thought I was Russian mafia because I spoke Russian and have a few bullet scars."

"What does it say?"

"It says, 'I owe Sam my life.'" They stood in silence for a long time, and then Callen gathered up his things to leave.

As they left OSP together, Sam asked, "Have you celebrated yet?"

"Celebrated?"

"Your pending fatherhood."

"Not yet."

"I know the perfect place," Sam said with a grin and a wink as Callen joined him in the Challenger.

"Don't forget," Callen said as they drove away, "I'm meeting with Nate tomorrow. I don't want to be sloshed."