Evil Author Day: History and Words Unspoken (NCIS: LA)
I started this ages ago, when I was still watching NCIS: LA. It was the result of a suggestion made to me by a fan. I don't normally accept plot bunnies for adoption because my Muse tends to be picky about the ideas I write, but this one proved to be too tempting. I have no idea if I'll ever finish this because I haven't actually watched the show in ages, but I thought this would make a nice post for EAD. Please note that there's sex in this story, near the beginning, between two total strangers. If that's not your cuppa, don't feel obligated to read.
~o~
G Callen raced through the back streets of Prague, glancing behind him every few seconds as he dodged people going about their normal routines. Every once in a while, he'd catch a glimpse of a large man-sometimes two-dressed all in black, weaving in and out of the foot traffic as they followed Callen through the city streets.
They were persistent, he had to give them that much.
Callen knew he had to get off this merry-go-round, and soon. The thumb drive was burning a hole in his pocket, and if it fell into the wrong hands-namely those two goons behind him-it wouldn't end well. For him or for the people who'd given it to him.
He scanned the street, realizing with some relief that he knew exactly where he was. He spotted the shop a little ahead and ducked in at the last minute, hoping his pursuers hadn't noticed.
He made his way to the back of the shop, shedding his windbreaker along the way. At the back, near the door to the alley, he spotted what he'd remembered was there a few days ago when he'd been wandering around, getting the lay of the land, so to speak. The coat rack stood in the exact same spot, same wool overcoat and cap waiting patiently there. He tugged the coat on and donned the hat, just as the old woman who owned the shop came down the stairs from what he had to guess was the stock room. Or maybe her apartment, he wasn't sure.
"Dĕkuji pĕknĕ," he said, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek as he deposited his jacket on the coat rack, tucking a few bills inside.
He could hear her spluttering reply as he ducked into the alley and headed in the opposite direction he'd been going. If he kept moving, he'd reach the Vltava River and the Charles Bridge. As good a place as any to blend into the afternoon crowds.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he whistled a low tune as he made his way onto the bridge, discreetly checking his surroundings for the two men who'd been chasing him earlier. He didn't see them, but that didn't mean that they-or anyone else working with them-weren't around.
What he needed was a cover, and he spotted a likely candidate just ahead.
She was small, no more than five feet, with bits of red hair poking out from under a warm hat. She was standing at the railing, staring out at the river with her hands tucked into her pockets. If he had to guess, he'd say she was American, which helped a lot. But more important than any of that was that she appeared to be alone.
He'd have to tread carefully, though. He couldn't afford to attract attention, and her going crazy because she thought he was attacking her would definitely draw the wrong kind of attention.
Pasting a smile on his face, Callen approached the young woman. He leaned down next to her, pressing his shoulder into hers as if they knew each other well.
"I'm a Federal Agent," he said quietly, holding his badge discreetly in his hand so she could see. "I need your help. You game?"
She turned to face him and he was arrested by the most luminous hazel eyes he'd ever seen. They danced with bright gold flecks, the corners crinkling as the face that contained them broke into an amused smile.
"Well, that's an original pick-up line, I'll give you that," she said. "I've never heard that one before."
She turned to face him, and he mirrored her, reaching out to tug at the lapel of her jacket, making a show of flirting with her. "Well then, the guys you've been hanging out with are sadly lacking in originality."
She flicked her eyes over his shoulder and he had to resist the urge to follow her gaze. He suspected he knew what she'd seen. He only hoped she be willing to play along.
Moving quickly, he scooped her up into a tight embrace, burying his face into her neck as she wound her arms around his shoulders. Like this, her feet were barely brushing the pavement, and he had her at his mercy, but she didn't seem phased, just leaned in closer.
"Two guys, kinda brutish looking, dressed all in black, right?" he muttered into her skin.
"Yeah," she breathed out on a shudder. "They don't look like they want to just chat either."
Callen chuckled. "No, probably not. We should get moving. The longer we stay here, the more chance they'll spot us."
"You mean you, don't you?" she asked, a hint of amusement bleeding into her voice. "They'll spot you. I can imagine that would be bad."
"You have no idea," he said, pulling back to look at her. "Is there somewhere we can go?"
Instead of answering, she ducked under his arm, looping hers around his waist and guiding him into the crowd. "I know a place."
Callen breathed a silent sigh of relief, squeezing her shoulders in gratitude as they headed away from the two goons still chasing him, off in the direction of the old city.
"I'm George, by the way," he said as they wove through the foot traffic on the bridge.
She hummed, as though she knew it was an alias but had decided to ignore that. "I'm Helen." She paused for a moment, then asked another question. "You going to tell me what this is all about, or do I have to guess?"
Callen glanced behind them as they rounded a corner, but he didn't see anyone following them. But, just for good measure, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Helen's head. "It's better if you don't know what's going on. Suffice to say that those guys aren't my friends, and this wasn't a social call."
She leaned back and studied him for a moment. "And you're really a Federal Agent? No bullshit?"
"No bullshit," Callen said, chuckling.
They wandered through a few more streets, as if they were just a normal couple out for a stroll. Callen had to wonder if Helen had learned some tradecraft at some point, because he knew they weren't taking the direct route to wherever it was they were going.
Finally, they stopped in front of a non-descript door. Helen produced a key from her coat pocket and unlocked the door, revealing a set of stairs with a door at the bottom. She headed straight for the stairs, leading him up two flights before she turned right and headed to a door at the back of the hall.
She unlocked this door with another key and lead him inside. The apartment was bright and airy, despite the fact that it was small. There was an efficiency kitchen and a small living area, and beyond that, a sleeping alcove that held a double bed. A door off the kitchen likely lead to a bathroom, and Callen was willing to bet that it would be just as small as the rest of the apartment.
Not that it mattered too much. Helen was a rather petite woman; the apartment seemed to suit her.
When he turned back to her, he found her eyebrow raised. "Does it meet with your approval?"
Callen's smile was slightly chagrined. "It's nice. I'm assuming you live here alone?"
"Yep, just me," she said. She shed her jacket and hat onto a hook on the wall, waving at him to do the same. He noted with amusement that though her jacket was a muted shade of charcoal, her blouse was anything but: a brightly colored floral with a rich blue sweater and dark skirt, leggings and shoes, and all of it setting off her red pixie cut and pale skin to perfection. Definitely unique. Definitely American. "I'm actually here doing a semester at NYU Prague for my Master's. I figured, why get a huge apartment if I'm only going to be here a few months?"
"Makes sense," he said. He added his hat to the borrowed coat on the hook by the door and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Listen, thanks for bailing me out back there. It took a lot of guts to do what you did, and I want you to know I appreciate it."
Helen shrugged. "I'm just one American helping another American out." She moved to the kitchen and started fussing with a kettle. "Coffee?"
"Sure," he said.
He wandered around the apartment, such as it was, looking more closely at the little touches that screamed Helen and not a borrowed apartment. The picture frame on the window sill caught his attention, so he picked it up. There was a crowd of people of all different ages grinning like mad at the camera. Her family, he'd bet, and what a family it was. He felt the jealousy rise up, letting himself regret for just a moment that he'd never had that kind of life, not even with the foster families he'd had over the years.
"You miss your family?" he asked as he replaced the picture on the sill.
Helen glanced at him, then at the photo, and shrugged. "Sometimes I do. Not that the time difference has stopped them from checking up on me. It can be kind of exhausting, to be honest."
"Still, it's gotta be nice to have people who care about you," he said thoughtfully. He settled on the couch, laying an arm over the back as he relaxed into the cushions, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
He felt the cushion dip and lifted his head to find Helen seated on the couch next to him, holding out a cup of coffee. He was somewhat startled to realize that some time had passed since he'd sat down. Enough time for Helen to have brewed a pot of coffee in the French Press he'd seen her fiddle with, anyway. It had been a long time since he'd felt so comfortable with someone he'd only just met. With anyone, really, he acknowledged ruefully. He took the cup with a grateful smile, sipping at the strong brew as he watched his new companion.
"You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"Should I be?" she asked, raising that damnable eyebrow at him again.
He found himself unwillingly intrigued by her bravery and forthrightness. Most women, when approached by a strange man with an even stranger request, would have walked away, or worse, made a scene and then run away.
But not Helen, and that sent a thrill through him.
"You don't know anything about me," he said, raising his eyebrow in challenge. "I could be a serial killer. Or worse."
Helen's eyes grew comically wide for just an instant before they crinkled into a knowing smile. "And are you? A serial killer, I mean."
"I could be," he found himself insisting. It felt a lot like they were flirting, and Callen was having more fun than he could ever remember having with a date. Even if this wasn't really a date.
"You could be," she said, winking, "but you're not."
"And you know this because…"
"Well, for one thing, your badge is authentic," she said, sipping at her coffee. "And for another, you just don't look like a serial killer."
"Met many serial killers, have you?" he asked.
She opened her mouth to answer, then promptly shut it. "Good point."
"If it would make you feel better, you could call the US Embassy in Prague," he said. "I could give you a code phrase that would connect you with someone who can verify I am actually a Federal Agent."
"That won't break your cover?" she asked.
"No," he said. "They do this all the time for agents abroad. You need the number?"
Helen got up and pulled her phone out of the pocket of her coat. "No, I got it." When Callen raised an eyebrow, she shrugged. "One of the first numbers I programmed in after I got here. A girl can never be too careful."
"Tell the operator that you need to speak to someone in the Marketing Department, regarding the Dolman account. They'll know what to do."
Callen watched and waited as she went through the process, smiling when she raised her eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving stare. When the call was done, she dropped onto the sofa and burst out laughing.
"George Costanza, really?"
Callen shrugged. "It's not like most people in Prague have ever seen Seinfeld. Up until a handful of years ago, most of them had never even met a New Yorker."
"True," she said. She turned to face him, resting her head on his arm along the back of the couch. "How long can you stay?"
"Would it be too much of an imposition to say 'until after dark'?"
His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her to answer. He didn't understand why he'd felt an instant connection to this woman, or why he was so desperate to stay with her for even just a few hours. She was fascinating, but he knew no matter how much he wanted to, his time-his life, to a certain degree-wasn't his own. And, he was due to rotate back to the States soon, so even if he did find a way to draw things out with this woman, he doubted he'd ever see her again once he left.
But those were thoughts for tomorrow. Just once, he wanted to live in the moment and consequences be damned.
"I was kinda hoping you'd say that," she whispered.
~o~
Helen leaned up and kissed him, her tongue wasting no time seeking entrance to his mouth. The contact was electric, like lightning striking right there in her living room. Callen threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting her head as he deepened the kiss.
She surprised him when she shifted over, climbing into his lap as she settled her hands on his neck, her thumbs caressing his jaw in time to the stroke of his tongue through her mouth.
He moaned as sensations flooded through him, thrilled at the idea that this woman wanted him as much as he wanted her. And suddenly he was impatient for more.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. "Bed?"
"Mmmm, bed," she said decisively.
She pushed up off his lap and grabbed his hand, pulling him up off the couch and the few feet to her bedroom. He turned at the foot of the bed, cradling her face in his hands as he dove in for more kisses. Her hands found their way under his sweater, tugging the t-shirt out of his jeans. He moaned again when her fingers brushed the skin at his waist, little trails of fire following as she caressed up his back.
Callen's hands trailed down over her shoulders and down her arms, hooking under the hem of her sweater and tugging it up, tossing it to the floor as he moved in for another kiss. His fingers started on the buttons of her shirt, but he suddenly lacked coordination, he was so impatient to get to skin.
Helen giggled as he struggled with the buttons. "Too many clothes," he muttered into her lips.
"Let me," she said.
She stepped back and made quick work of the buttons of her shirt, dropping it to the floor, quickly followed by her skirt and leggings. She crawled up onto the bed in just her bra and panties, sprawling out and giving him a come-hither look that melted whatever self-control he might have had left.
Callen tugged off his sweater and t-shirt, shed his jeans and was crawling up over her in no time. He settled on top of her, his elbows taking most of his weight as he gazed down into her eyes, glowing golden in the muted light.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, smiling up at him.
That was enough for Callen. He set about tasting every inch of flesh he could reach, his lips painting a trail over her torso. With every nip of teeth or taste of his tongue, she made the most delightful noises, squirming under the onslaught of sensation. She was, by far, the most responsive partner he'd had in a while, and it made him want to just keep going, see how many different sounds he could draw out of her.
But, that would have to wait. He moved back up her body, settling back over her as he nipped at her earlobes.
"Condoms?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.
She stretched her hand up, pointing at the shelf above her head. "In the box, there."
Callen's eyes followed her hand, up to the shelf over the bed. The room was so small that there wasn't room for a nightstand, but he'd totally missed the shelf with her alarm clock and a couple of books, plus the small box she'd pointed to. He pushed up onto his knees, smiling down at her as she ran her hands up his legs, her fingers dipping under the hem of his boxers to tickle at the crease of his thighs.
"Getting impatient?" he asked as he pulled a condom out of the box.
"Maybe," she said, winking at him.
She let one hand trail over the material of his boxers to ghost over his erection. He gasped at the contact, closing his eyes as he felt his cock twitch in response. He was surprised he was that close, though he shouldn't have been. It had been a while since he'd been with anyone. Tracy had been the last-and he knew he'd better cut off that line of thought as quickly as it appeared.
Nothing like thinking about the ex to kill the moment with a new partner.
Callen dropped the condom on the pillow and settled beside Helen, letting his fingers skate over her skin. "I have to warn you: it's been a while. I might just go off like a bottle rocket."
"We wouldn't want that, would we?" she asked with an impish grin.
He popped the clasp on her bra and flicked the material aside, setting about nipping and licking and teasing her nipples into pert peaks. She threaded a hand into his hair and held on, the sting a pleasant buzz over already-stimulated nerves.
Moving quickly, he shed his boxers and untangled her from her bra and underwear. His eyebrow and his estimation of her rose when she stretched her arms over her head, putting all that alabaster skin on display for him. A saucy wink and he knew he'd never be rid of this woman, whether he ever saw her again or not.
He tore open the condom packet and rolled it onto his cock, shuddering a little as he stroked himself. He really did need to get laid more often if this was what happened when in the presence of a beautiful woman.
Settling between her legs, Callen looked into her dancing green eyes. "You ready?"
"Mmmm," she hummed, hooking a leg around his hip as she nudged his cock. "More than."
He took her lips in a fierce kiss as he pressed inside her, swallowing her gasp along with his own. This definitely wasn't going to last long, so he'd have to make it as good as possible. He did have a reputation to uphold.
Pressing into her in long strokes, he kept kissing and nipping at her lips, her chin, her ears. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing up to meet each stroke, exposing the long line of her neck to his wandering lips. He could feel his orgasm building from the soles of his feet and knew he was close.
Callen reached for her hands, lacing their fingers together, bracing their joined hands above her head, using that for leverage as he chased a shared orgasm. He met her eyes, seeing passion and fire swimming in the green pools. It was a magnificent sight, one he would remember for a long time to come if he had any say in it.
Helen tipped over the edge first, her body arcing off the bed, gasps and moans echoing in the quiet room. Callen wasn't far behind, his own orgasm punched out of him, leaving him gasping for air.
Aware he was probably squashing her, he moved to the side, rescuing the condom before it spilled its contents all over them and the sheets. He quickly tied it off and rolled out of the bed to toss it in the trash can in the kitchen. When he made it back to the bed, Helen had crawled under the covers. Not even giving it a second thought, he pulled the covers back and joined her, pulling her close to him.
She settled into his arms and hummed her contentment. Callen dropped a kiss on her head and closed his eyes, willing to just bask in the warmth and closeness for a little while.
~o~
Hours later, Callen dressed quietly in the moonlight filtering in through the window. Helen lay on her stomach, sleeping peacefully. The covers had drifted down her body as he'd carefully crawled out of bed, leaving the milky skin of her back to glow in the semi-dark.
He paused for a moment, committing the image to memory. He'd had no idea when he'd met his contact that morning that his day would end this way. It had been a long time since he'd met anyone he clicked with right off the bat. He wanted to stay, but wanting that was dangerous. And not only because of the men that had been chasing him.
G Callen was a man without roots. One of the reasons he was so good at his job was because he could become anyone at all, simply because he didn't know who he really was. And until he had some answers about his past, he didn't feel like he had anything to offer someone else.
For the first time in a long time, he wished he did.
But wishing wouldn't gain him anything, so he finished dressing and quietly slipped out the door and into the night.
~o~
Five Years Later…
Callen sat at his desk in the bullpen staring at nothing in particular, twiddling a pen between his fingers, thinking.
Thinking hard.
About things that shouldn't need so much thought. Like coincidences, and how Walt Disney was right and this really is a small world.
And about how Nell Jones was the Helen from his fondest memory of Prague-his fondest memory, period, if he were being honest.
When he'd left the small flat in the Old City, he'd expected never to see her again. And up until that day, he probably wouldn't have cared. He'd been the love-em-and-leave-em type, never forming attachments and never staying with one woman for too long. Tracy had been… a mistake, born out of youth and stupidity, and after everything that went down with her, he'd promised himself to just stay the hell away from any sort of commitments.
And not only because dating a fellow agent was a bad idea, but because his life was dangerous enough without adding someone he cared about to the mix. Oh sure, he cared about people. Sam was at the top of that-admittedly short-list, but it pretty much started and ended with him. Sam Hanna was like the brother he'd never had, and they'd clicked almost from the beginning.
Just like he and Helen.
No, just like he and Nell.
Callen shook his head, still trying to wrap his brain around that one.
"You okay, partner?"
Callen looked up, seeing Sam settling in behind his desk. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You've been distracted since this morning's briefing," Sam said. His face broke into a grin. "There for a minute, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."
"No, not a ghost, per se," Callen said, shaking his head. "More like a blast from the past."
"One of the case files?" Callen shook his head again. Sam tilted his, frowning for a moment until an almost-literal lightbulb went off above his head. "Really?"
"Look, just forget it," Callen said, leaning forward and refocussing on the report he was supposed to be writing. They had two active cases-that's what the briefing was for, to go over any new leads that had come in overnight-plus they'd just solved a case. He really did need to finish his report, but he just knew Sam wasn't going to let this go. He was like a pitbull on a bone, especially when it was something you didn't want him to know about.
But instead of nipping at the juicy new secret Callen was keeping, he leaned back in his chair and gave him a contemplative look. "So, what are you going to do?"
"For the moment? Finish writing this report."
Sam rolled his eyes. "About…" he said, waving his hand in the direction of Ops.
"I don't know," Callen said quietly. He rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his folded hands. "I don't know if there's anything to do. It's not exactly the ideal situation."
"You're clearly not the only one," Sam said. He'd probably seen Nell's startled, eye-widening glance at Callen when they walked into Ops on her first day. She'd schooled her face pretty quickly, but he'd bet good money that Hetty had seen it. Sam certainly had. "She hasn't…?"
"No." Callen sighed. "Maybe it's best to just leave the past in the past. We're different people now. And this is a different situation. Not quite so life-and-death."
"Maybe," Sam said on a shrug. "But you're gonna be seeing each other every day for the foreseeable future. Might be worth it to at least clear the air."
"Maybe," Callen said, though his tone clearly said 'probably not'.
The sound of Kensi and Deeks approaching-their conversation more of a playful fight-sent Callen focusing back on his report. Sam just gave him a look that said they'd be revisiting this conversation again at a later date. He wanted to groan; Sam had been trying to fix him up on a date since almost the first moment they'd been introduced. This wasn't going to help.
~o~
~o~
G Callen raced through the back streets of Prague, glancing behind him every few seconds as he dodged people going about their normal routines. Every once in a while, he'd catch a glimpse of a large man-sometimes two-dressed all in black, weaving in and out of the foot traffic as they followed Callen through the city streets.
They were persistent, he had to give them that much.
Callen knew he had to get off this merry-go-round, and soon. The thumb drive was burning a hole in his pocket, and if it fell into the wrong hands-namely those two goons behind him-it wouldn't end well. For him or for the people who'd given it to him.
He scanned the street, realizing with some relief that he knew exactly where he was. He spotted the shop a little ahead and ducked in at the last minute, hoping his pursuers hadn't noticed.
He made his way to the back of the shop, shedding his windbreaker along the way. At the back, near the door to the alley, he spotted what he'd remembered was there a few days ago when he'd been wandering around, getting the lay of the land, so to speak. The coat rack stood in the exact same spot, same wool overcoat and cap waiting patiently there. He tugged the coat on and donned the hat, just as the old woman who owned the shop came down the stairs from what he had to guess was the stock room. Or maybe her apartment, he wasn't sure.
"Dĕkuji pĕknĕ," he said, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek as he deposited his jacket on the coat rack, tucking a few bills inside.
He could hear her spluttering reply as he ducked into the alley and headed in the opposite direction he'd been going. If he kept moving, he'd reach the Vltava River and the Charles Bridge. As good a place as any to blend into the afternoon crowds.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he whistled a low tune as he made his way onto the bridge, discreetly checking his surroundings for the two men who'd been chasing him earlier. He didn't see them, but that didn't mean that they-or anyone else working with them-weren't around.
What he needed was a cover, and he spotted a likely candidate just ahead.
She was small, no more than five feet, with bits of red hair poking out from under a warm hat. She was standing at the railing, staring out at the river with her hands tucked into her pockets. If he had to guess, he'd say she was American, which helped a lot. But more important than any of that was that she appeared to be alone.
He'd have to tread carefully, though. He couldn't afford to attract attention, and her going crazy because she thought he was attacking her would definitely draw the wrong kind of attention.
Pasting a smile on his face, Callen approached the young woman. He leaned down next to her, pressing his shoulder into hers as if they knew each other well.
"I'm a Federal Agent," he said quietly, holding his badge discreetly in his hand so she could see. "I need your help. You game?"
She turned to face him and he was arrested by the most luminous hazel eyes he'd ever seen. They danced with bright gold flecks, the corners crinkling as the face that contained them broke into an amused smile.
"Well, that's an original pick-up line, I'll give you that," she said. "I've never heard that one before."
She turned to face him, and he mirrored her, reaching out to tug at the lapel of her jacket, making a show of flirting with her. "Well then, the guys you've been hanging out with are sadly lacking in originality."
She flicked her eyes over his shoulder and he had to resist the urge to follow her gaze. He suspected he knew what she'd seen. He only hoped she be willing to play along.
Moving quickly, he scooped her up into a tight embrace, burying his face into her neck as she wound her arms around his shoulders. Like this, her feet were barely brushing the pavement, and he had her at his mercy, but she didn't seem phased, just leaned in closer.
"Two guys, kinda brutish looking, dressed all in black, right?" he muttered into her skin.
"Yeah," she breathed out on a shudder. "They don't look like they want to just chat either."
Callen chuckled. "No, probably not. We should get moving. The longer we stay here, the more chance they'll spot us."
"You mean you, don't you?" she asked, a hint of amusement bleeding into her voice. "They'll spot you. I can imagine that would be bad."
"You have no idea," he said, pulling back to look at her. "Is there somewhere we can go?"
Instead of answering, she ducked under his arm, looping hers around his waist and guiding him into the crowd. "I know a place."
Callen breathed a silent sigh of relief, squeezing her shoulders in gratitude as they headed away from the two goons still chasing him, off in the direction of the old city.
"I'm George, by the way," he said as they wove through the foot traffic on the bridge.
She hummed, as though she knew it was an alias but had decided to ignore that. "I'm Helen." She paused for a moment, then asked another question. "You going to tell me what this is all about, or do I have to guess?"
Callen glanced behind them as they rounded a corner, but he didn't see anyone following them. But, just for good measure, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Helen's head. "It's better if you don't know what's going on. Suffice to say that those guys aren't my friends, and this wasn't a social call."
She leaned back and studied him for a moment. "And you're really a Federal Agent? No bullshit?"
"No bullshit," Callen said, chuckling.
They wandered through a few more streets, as if they were just a normal couple out for a stroll. Callen had to wonder if Helen had learned some tradecraft at some point, because he knew they weren't taking the direct route to wherever it was they were going.
Finally, they stopped in front of a non-descript door. Helen produced a key from her coat pocket and unlocked the door, revealing a set of stairs with a door at the bottom. She headed straight for the stairs, leading him up two flights before she turned right and headed to a door at the back of the hall.
She unlocked this door with another key and lead him inside. The apartment was bright and airy, despite the fact that it was small. There was an efficiency kitchen and a small living area, and beyond that, a sleeping alcove that held a double bed. A door off the kitchen likely lead to a bathroom, and Callen was willing to bet that it would be just as small as the rest of the apartment.
Not that it mattered too much. Helen was a rather petite woman; the apartment seemed to suit her.
When he turned back to her, he found her eyebrow raised. "Does it meet with your approval?"
Callen's smile was slightly chagrined. "It's nice. I'm assuming you live here alone?"
"Yep, just me," she said. She shed her jacket and hat onto a hook on the wall, waving at him to do the same. He noted with amusement that though her jacket was a muted shade of charcoal, her blouse was anything but: a brightly colored floral with a rich blue sweater and dark skirt, leggings and shoes, and all of it setting off her red pixie cut and pale skin to perfection. Definitely unique. Definitely American. "I'm actually here doing a semester at NYU Prague for my Master's. I figured, why get a huge apartment if I'm only going to be here a few months?"
"Makes sense," he said. He added his hat to the borrowed coat on the hook by the door and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Listen, thanks for bailing me out back there. It took a lot of guts to do what you did, and I want you to know I appreciate it."
Helen shrugged. "I'm just one American helping another American out." She moved to the kitchen and started fussing with a kettle. "Coffee?"
"Sure," he said.
He wandered around the apartment, such as it was, looking more closely at the little touches that screamed Helen and not a borrowed apartment. The picture frame on the window sill caught his attention, so he picked it up. There was a crowd of people of all different ages grinning like mad at the camera. Her family, he'd bet, and what a family it was. He felt the jealousy rise up, letting himself regret for just a moment that he'd never had that kind of life, not even with the foster families he'd had over the years.
"You miss your family?" he asked as he replaced the picture on the sill.
Helen glanced at him, then at the photo, and shrugged. "Sometimes I do. Not that the time difference has stopped them from checking up on me. It can be kind of exhausting, to be honest."
"Still, it's gotta be nice to have people who care about you," he said thoughtfully. He settled on the couch, laying an arm over the back as he relaxed into the cushions, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
He felt the cushion dip and lifted his head to find Helen seated on the couch next to him, holding out a cup of coffee. He was somewhat startled to realize that some time had passed since he'd sat down. Enough time for Helen to have brewed a pot of coffee in the French Press he'd seen her fiddle with, anyway. It had been a long time since he'd felt so comfortable with someone he'd only just met. With anyone, really, he acknowledged ruefully. He took the cup with a grateful smile, sipping at the strong brew as he watched his new companion.
"You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"Should I be?" she asked, raising that damnable eyebrow at him again.
He found himself unwillingly intrigued by her bravery and forthrightness. Most women, when approached by a strange man with an even stranger request, would have walked away, or worse, made a scene and then run away.
But not Helen, and that sent a thrill through him.
"You don't know anything about me," he said, raising his eyebrow in challenge. "I could be a serial killer. Or worse."
Helen's eyes grew comically wide for just an instant before they crinkled into a knowing smile. "And are you? A serial killer, I mean."
"I could be," he found himself insisting. It felt a lot like they were flirting, and Callen was having more fun than he could ever remember having with a date. Even if this wasn't really a date.
"You could be," she said, winking, "but you're not."
"And you know this because…"
"Well, for one thing, your badge is authentic," she said, sipping at her coffee. "And for another, you just don't look like a serial killer."
"Met many serial killers, have you?" he asked.
She opened her mouth to answer, then promptly shut it. "Good point."
"If it would make you feel better, you could call the US Embassy in Prague," he said. "I could give you a code phrase that would connect you with someone who can verify I am actually a Federal Agent."
"That won't break your cover?" she asked.
"No," he said. "They do this all the time for agents abroad. You need the number?"
Helen got up and pulled her phone out of the pocket of her coat. "No, I got it." When Callen raised an eyebrow, she shrugged. "One of the first numbers I programmed in after I got here. A girl can never be too careful."
"Tell the operator that you need to speak to someone in the Marketing Department, regarding the Dolman account. They'll know what to do."
Callen watched and waited as she went through the process, smiling when she raised her eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving stare. When the call was done, she dropped onto the sofa and burst out laughing.
"George Costanza, really?"
Callen shrugged. "It's not like most people in Prague have ever seen Seinfeld. Up until a handful of years ago, most of them had never even met a New Yorker."
"True," she said. She turned to face him, resting her head on his arm along the back of the couch. "How long can you stay?"
"Would it be too much of an imposition to say 'until after dark'?"
His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her to answer. He didn't understand why he'd felt an instant connection to this woman, or why he was so desperate to stay with her for even just a few hours. She was fascinating, but he knew no matter how much he wanted to, his time-his life, to a certain degree-wasn't his own. And, he was due to rotate back to the States soon, so even if he did find a way to draw things out with this woman, he doubted he'd ever see her again once he left.
But those were thoughts for tomorrow. Just once, he wanted to live in the moment and consequences be damned.
"I was kinda hoping you'd say that," she whispered.
~o~
Helen leaned up and kissed him, her tongue wasting no time seeking entrance to his mouth. The contact was electric, like lightning striking right there in her living room. Callen threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting her head as he deepened the kiss.
She surprised him when she shifted over, climbing into his lap as she settled her hands on his neck, her thumbs caressing his jaw in time to the stroke of his tongue through her mouth.
He moaned as sensations flooded through him, thrilled at the idea that this woman wanted him as much as he wanted her. And suddenly he was impatient for more.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. "Bed?"
"Mmmm, bed," she said decisively.
She pushed up off his lap and grabbed his hand, pulling him up off the couch and the few feet to her bedroom. He turned at the foot of the bed, cradling her face in his hands as he dove in for more kisses. Her hands found their way under his sweater, tugging the t-shirt out of his jeans. He moaned again when her fingers brushed the skin at his waist, little trails of fire following as she caressed up his back.
Callen's hands trailed down over her shoulders and down her arms, hooking under the hem of her sweater and tugging it up, tossing it to the floor as he moved in for another kiss. His fingers started on the buttons of her shirt, but he suddenly lacked coordination, he was so impatient to get to skin.
Helen giggled as he struggled with the buttons. "Too many clothes," he muttered into her lips.
"Let me," she said.
She stepped back and made quick work of the buttons of her shirt, dropping it to the floor, quickly followed by her skirt and leggings. She crawled up onto the bed in just her bra and panties, sprawling out and giving him a come-hither look that melted whatever self-control he might have had left.
Callen tugged off his sweater and t-shirt, shed his jeans and was crawling up over her in no time. He settled on top of her, his elbows taking most of his weight as he gazed down into her eyes, glowing golden in the muted light.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, smiling up at him.
That was enough for Callen. He set about tasting every inch of flesh he could reach, his lips painting a trail over her torso. With every nip of teeth or taste of his tongue, she made the most delightful noises, squirming under the onslaught of sensation. She was, by far, the most responsive partner he'd had in a while, and it made him want to just keep going, see how many different sounds he could draw out of her.
But, that would have to wait. He moved back up her body, settling back over her as he nipped at her earlobes.
"Condoms?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.
She stretched her hand up, pointing at the shelf above her head. "In the box, there."
Callen's eyes followed her hand, up to the shelf over the bed. The room was so small that there wasn't room for a nightstand, but he'd totally missed the shelf with her alarm clock and a couple of books, plus the small box she'd pointed to. He pushed up onto his knees, smiling down at her as she ran her hands up his legs, her fingers dipping under the hem of his boxers to tickle at the crease of his thighs.
"Getting impatient?" he asked as he pulled a condom out of the box.
"Maybe," she said, winking at him.
She let one hand trail over the material of his boxers to ghost over his erection. He gasped at the contact, closing his eyes as he felt his cock twitch in response. He was surprised he was that close, though he shouldn't have been. It had been a while since he'd been with anyone. Tracy had been the last-and he knew he'd better cut off that line of thought as quickly as it appeared.
Nothing like thinking about the ex to kill the moment with a new partner.
Callen dropped the condom on the pillow and settled beside Helen, letting his fingers skate over her skin. "I have to warn you: it's been a while. I might just go off like a bottle rocket."
"We wouldn't want that, would we?" she asked with an impish grin.
He popped the clasp on her bra and flicked the material aside, setting about nipping and licking and teasing her nipples into pert peaks. She threaded a hand into his hair and held on, the sting a pleasant buzz over already-stimulated nerves.
Moving quickly, he shed his boxers and untangled her from her bra and underwear. His eyebrow and his estimation of her rose when she stretched her arms over her head, putting all that alabaster skin on display for him. A saucy wink and he knew he'd never be rid of this woman, whether he ever saw her again or not.
He tore open the condom packet and rolled it onto his cock, shuddering a little as he stroked himself. He really did need to get laid more often if this was what happened when in the presence of a beautiful woman.
Settling between her legs, Callen looked into her dancing green eyes. "You ready?"
"Mmmm," she hummed, hooking a leg around his hip as she nudged his cock. "More than."
He took her lips in a fierce kiss as he pressed inside her, swallowing her gasp along with his own. This definitely wasn't going to last long, so he'd have to make it as good as possible. He did have a reputation to uphold.
Pressing into her in long strokes, he kept kissing and nipping at her lips, her chin, her ears. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing up to meet each stroke, exposing the long line of her neck to his wandering lips. He could feel his orgasm building from the soles of his feet and knew he was close.
Callen reached for her hands, lacing their fingers together, bracing their joined hands above her head, using that for leverage as he chased a shared orgasm. He met her eyes, seeing passion and fire swimming in the green pools. It was a magnificent sight, one he would remember for a long time to come if he had any say in it.
Helen tipped over the edge first, her body arcing off the bed, gasps and moans echoing in the quiet room. Callen wasn't far behind, his own orgasm punched out of him, leaving him gasping for air.
Aware he was probably squashing her, he moved to the side, rescuing the condom before it spilled its contents all over them and the sheets. He quickly tied it off and rolled out of the bed to toss it in the trash can in the kitchen. When he made it back to the bed, Helen had crawled under the covers. Not even giving it a second thought, he pulled the covers back and joined her, pulling her close to him.
She settled into his arms and hummed her contentment. Callen dropped a kiss on her head and closed his eyes, willing to just bask in the warmth and closeness for a little while.
~o~
Hours later, Callen dressed quietly in the moonlight filtering in through the window. Helen lay on her stomach, sleeping peacefully. The covers had drifted down her body as he'd carefully crawled out of bed, leaving the milky skin of her back to glow in the semi-dark.
He paused for a moment, committing the image to memory. He'd had no idea when he'd met his contact that morning that his day would end this way. It had been a long time since he'd met anyone he clicked with right off the bat. He wanted to stay, but wanting that was dangerous. And not only because of the men that had been chasing him.
G Callen was a man without roots. One of the reasons he was so good at his job was because he could become anyone at all, simply because he didn't know who he really was. And until he had some answers about his past, he didn't feel like he had anything to offer someone else.
For the first time in a long time, he wished he did.
But wishing wouldn't gain him anything, so he finished dressing and quietly slipped out the door and into the night.
~o~
Five Years Later…
Callen sat at his desk in the bullpen staring at nothing in particular, twiddling a pen between his fingers, thinking.
Thinking hard.
About things that shouldn't need so much thought. Like coincidences, and how Walt Disney was right and this really is a small world.
And about how Nell Jones was the Helen from his fondest memory of Prague-his fondest memory, period, if he were being honest.
When he'd left the small flat in the Old City, he'd expected never to see her again. And up until that day, he probably wouldn't have cared. He'd been the love-em-and-leave-em type, never forming attachments and never staying with one woman for too long. Tracy had been… a mistake, born out of youth and stupidity, and after everything that went down with her, he'd promised himself to just stay the hell away from any sort of commitments.
And not only because dating a fellow agent was a bad idea, but because his life was dangerous enough without adding someone he cared about to the mix. Oh sure, he cared about people. Sam was at the top of that-admittedly short-list, but it pretty much started and ended with him. Sam Hanna was like the brother he'd never had, and they'd clicked almost from the beginning.
Just like he and Helen.
No, just like he and Nell.
Callen shook his head, still trying to wrap his brain around that one.
"You okay, partner?"
Callen looked up, seeing Sam settling in behind his desk. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You've been distracted since this morning's briefing," Sam said. His face broke into a grin. "There for a minute, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."
"No, not a ghost, per se," Callen said, shaking his head. "More like a blast from the past."
"One of the case files?" Callen shook his head again. Sam tilted his, frowning for a moment until an almost-literal lightbulb went off above his head. "Really?"
"Look, just forget it," Callen said, leaning forward and refocussing on the report he was supposed to be writing. They had two active cases-that's what the briefing was for, to go over any new leads that had come in overnight-plus they'd just solved a case. He really did need to finish his report, but he just knew Sam wasn't going to let this go. He was like a pitbull on a bone, especially when it was something you didn't want him to know about.
But instead of nipping at the juicy new secret Callen was keeping, he leaned back in his chair and gave him a contemplative look. "So, what are you going to do?"
"For the moment? Finish writing this report."
Sam rolled his eyes. "About…" he said, waving his hand in the direction of Ops.
"I don't know," Callen said quietly. He rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his folded hands. "I don't know if there's anything to do. It's not exactly the ideal situation."
"You're clearly not the only one," Sam said. He'd probably seen Nell's startled, eye-widening glance at Callen when they walked into Ops on her first day. She'd schooled her face pretty quickly, but he'd bet good money that Hetty had seen it. Sam certainly had. "She hasn't…?"
"No." Callen sighed. "Maybe it's best to just leave the past in the past. We're different people now. And this is a different situation. Not quite so life-and-death."
"Maybe," Sam said on a shrug. "But you're gonna be seeing each other every day for the foreseeable future. Might be worth it to at least clear the air."
"Maybe," Callen said, though his tone clearly said 'probably not'.
The sound of Kensi and Deeks approaching-their conversation more of a playful fight-sent Callen focusing back on his report. Sam just gave him a look that said they'd be revisiting this conversation again at a later date. He wanted to groan; Sam had been trying to fix him up on a date since almost the first moment they'd been introduced. This wasn't going to help.
~o~