Shoot First, Ask Later
Circumstances
The phone clicked as Hetty set it down. She didn't say anything as she walked past Callan, toward Sam on the couch, finishing bandaging up the agent's wound. He had the cool towel draped over her forehead. "She's coming around," Sam told Hetty and Callen.
"She is special agent Amaya Margoh," Hetty said. "I wouldn't have recognized her. When I last saw her she was maybe but two years old? Her father was on a special ops team with me and Owen back in the late 80s in Japan."
"Aya," the girl murmured. The three looked at her, as she reached up to pull the cloth from her forehead. "I go by Aya," she continued. Her chocolate-gold eyes looked up at Hetty and she smiled a bit. "I remember you as well, Henrietta." She winced as she sat up. "My father told me that if I ever found myself in a bind, that Owen Granger would be able to help me." She glanced at Callan and Sam.
Hetty cleared her throat. "Owen is no longer with us, I am afraid." Her voice was dark and somber.
Aya's face clearly fell. "I see."
"You were shot," Callen said, kneeling down to her level. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Aya laughed under her breath. "Aren't I always?" She chuckled again. "I guess you could say that. What kind of trouble am I in? If only I knew." She sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, grimacing with the movement. "I've been followed the past three weeks. I haven't been to my place in four days. Sleeping in shitty hotels and always looking over my shoulder. Well, the one time I didn't look over it, I got shot in it." The blonde reached up and fingered over the dressing Sam had put over the wound, after extracting the bullet. "That felt like a nine," she murmured.
"It was," Sam said, picking up the fragmented piece with a pair of tweezers off of the table. "Have you made any enemies recently? Someone who would want you dead?"
"I just got back from a trip to Japan six weeks ago. Purely for pleasure. At least... I thought so." Amaya ran a hand over her face."
"Alone?" Hetty asked, almost as if she were chiding the younger woman.
"Yeah. I just... I need a break from work. From everything, really." She raised her dark eyes. "So... Did something happen to Granger in the field?"
They were all quiet for a moment before Callen spoke up. "Cancer."
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." She shook her head. "That's... that's rough."
"Indeed." Hetty paused. "It was."
Aya stood. Sam rose with her, staying close in case she was wobbly. But she stood still, her hands sinking into her pockets. "I'm sorry to bother you," she finally said, after a prolonged moment of silence. "I didn't mean to barge in. I felt cornered... I wasn't sure where to go, honestly."
"Then it's only fair that we keep you safe until you do know where to go," Hetty said. Her tone left no room for argument. Aya said nothing. "Head on up to ops with Callen and Sam. Maybe Mr. Beale and Miss Jones can help piece together what happened to you."
"I'm Sam, by the way," the literally tall, dark, and handsome man said, extending his hand, after Hetty turned away.
"So you must be Callen," Aya deduced, shaking his hand.
"I must be," Callen said with bit of a smile.
"Take her on up to ops, G, I'll see if Kensi has any spare shirts." Sam headed to the bull pen to find Kensi and her partner, Deeks.
"I take it you're the senior operative here," Aya said, as they began to ascend the stairs to ops.
"I guess you could call me that," Callen said. "Sometimes I feel more like Hetty's pet project than anything else."
"You must be something special to have Henrietta's special attention like that," she joked.
"I'm very special," Callen tossed back. "But for Hetty to remember you from that time in her life... you must have made quite the impression."
They stopped outside the ops door. Aya laughed, pulling her hair over one shoulder. The shift created a scent of lavender an sandalwood in the air between the two agents. "I was barely a toddler. Not sure I could have created much of an impression other than the one that a terrible two year old makes."
Callen shrugged. "Welcome to ops." The sleek black door slid open, revealing a technological wonderland.
"She is special agent Amaya Margoh," Hetty said. "I wouldn't have recognized her. When I last saw her she was maybe but two years old? Her father was on a special ops team with me and Owen back in the late 80s in Japan."
"Aya," the girl murmured. The three looked at her, as she reached up to pull the cloth from her forehead. "I go by Aya," she continued. Her chocolate-gold eyes looked up at Hetty and she smiled a bit. "I remember you as well, Henrietta." She winced as she sat up. "My father told me that if I ever found myself in a bind, that Owen Granger would be able to help me." She glanced at Callan and Sam.
Hetty cleared her throat. "Owen is no longer with us, I am afraid." Her voice was dark and somber.
Aya's face clearly fell. "I see."
"You were shot," Callen said, kneeling down to her level. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Aya laughed under her breath. "Aren't I always?" She chuckled again. "I guess you could say that. What kind of trouble am I in? If only I knew." She sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, grimacing with the movement. "I've been followed the past three weeks. I haven't been to my place in four days. Sleeping in shitty hotels and always looking over my shoulder. Well, the one time I didn't look over it, I got shot in it." The blonde reached up and fingered over the dressing Sam had put over the wound, after extracting the bullet. "That felt like a nine," she murmured.
"It was," Sam said, picking up the fragmented piece with a pair of tweezers off of the table. "Have you made any enemies recently? Someone who would want you dead?"
"I just got back from a trip to Japan six weeks ago. Purely for pleasure. At least... I thought so." Amaya ran a hand over her face."
"Alone?" Hetty asked, almost as if she were chiding the younger woman.
"Yeah. I just... I need a break from work. From everything, really." She raised her dark eyes. "So... Did something happen to Granger in the field?"
They were all quiet for a moment before Callen spoke up. "Cancer."
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." She shook her head. "That's... that's rough."
"Indeed." Hetty paused. "It was."
Aya stood. Sam rose with her, staying close in case she was wobbly. But she stood still, her hands sinking into her pockets. "I'm sorry to bother you," she finally said, after a prolonged moment of silence. "I didn't mean to barge in. I felt cornered... I wasn't sure where to go, honestly."
"Then it's only fair that we keep you safe until you do know where to go," Hetty said. Her tone left no room for argument. Aya said nothing. "Head on up to ops with Callen and Sam. Maybe Mr. Beale and Miss Jones can help piece together what happened to you."
"I'm Sam, by the way," the literally tall, dark, and handsome man said, extending his hand, after Hetty turned away.
"So you must be Callen," Aya deduced, shaking his hand.
"I must be," Callen said with bit of a smile.
"Take her on up to ops, G, I'll see if Kensi has any spare shirts." Sam headed to the bull pen to find Kensi and her partner, Deeks.
"I take it you're the senior operative here," Aya said, as they began to ascend the stairs to ops.
"I guess you could call me that," Callen said. "Sometimes I feel more like Hetty's pet project than anything else."
"You must be something special to have Henrietta's special attention like that," she joked.
"I'm very special," Callen tossed back. "But for Hetty to remember you from that time in her life... you must have made quite the impression."
They stopped outside the ops door. Aya laughed, pulling her hair over one shoulder. The shift created a scent of lavender an sandalwood in the air between the two agents. "I was barely a toddler. Not sure I could have created much of an impression other than the one that a terrible two year old makes."
Callen shrugged. "Welcome to ops." The sleek black door slid open, revealing a technological wonderland.