Turn of Events

Santa Monica Pier

Callen was unsure how long he knelt in the sand, but his legs had gone numb and he shifted to move. His father gave him the space to move, but remained close just the same. He was silent throughout his time crying, which he appreciated, but he still had no idea how he was going to move forward with his father, Elise or Emily. A headache brewed under the surface of his temples from the strain of the day. It was difficult to realise it had started like any other day. Paperwork, a case, looking at the crime scene, searching for details on why an employee of a pharmaceutical company had been professionally killed and who was behind it. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that the wife was his old partner whom he'd had a relationship and child with. Nor that some Serbian terrorist organisation was out to harm her because of his father, whom he had no memory of. If he was to sit down and tell some woman he'd met in a bar that night, she'd think he was drunk or high on drugs.

He rubbed his numb calves and feet, hoping to get the feelings back into them soon. He did have some terrorists to destroy, so he could somehow start a relationship with his daughter at least.

"So you killed them, did you?" John finally spoke to him about the Comescus. "Must have felt good, son. Knowing how much they destroyed our lives."

Callen remained sitting with his knees up as he continued to rub through the tingling sensation. He turned and looked at his father. "I remembered. When I stepped onto the beach, I knew I was home and that they had killed her." A tear escaped his welled up and very swollen eyes. He bit on his lower lip to fight the need to cry again. "She had been laughing, sitting in her chair, happy. Suddenly she stopped, laid on the chair and she wouldn't wake up." He looked straight into his father's eyes. "She didn't deserve to die." His heart beat rapid as the memory returned and he continued. "Amy grabbed my hand and we ran until she thought we were safe. I remember it getting cold and dark and we hid behind some old oil drums. A while later a shadow appeared, it was a man. I cannot remember his face, but he told us you sent for us. I thought he was going to take us to you."

"He couldn't. I had problems of my own. I ended up in a Siberian prison camp for the next five years. That's how long it took for my government to extract me. Thinking of you and Amy was what kept me going." John paused as he pulled himself together. He understood the need to be strong for his son. His son had had to be strong all of his life, he didn't deserve to have his father break on him now. He needed him strong, to be the father he needed when he was five.

"You said he was a Russian, the man who took us to our grandmother's. I don't remember any of it. My earliest memory was in some foster home, being hit over the head with a broom stick for not doing something. I was seven at the time."

"Arkady was the only friend I could get to you. He was a good man, all my other contacts couldn't get to you in time. Even he was too late to save your Mother."

"Arkady Kolcheck?" Callen looked up at him with surprise.

"Yes, but I haven't seen him since I sent him to bring you to America. I haven't been able to find him in Russia for years. Like you, he's seemed to have disappeared."

"Not disappeared. He's around." A small smile of satisfaction that deep down he knew Arkady had known his father was true. "He lives in Los Angeles now. I see him now and then."

"You do?"

Callen nodded.

John smiled along side his son. "I am glad. I asked a man, Hans Schrieber to look out for you when you lived on the East Coast, but I lost contact with him also.

"He became Michael Rhinehart. The Comescus killed him last year, thinking he was you. They had your alias, Nikita Alexander Reznikov. I think your real identity is still intact. But they know I am a Callen and that has caused all sorts of headaches. Hetty tried to trick them into believing I was dead they didn't believe her. My team and I followed to rescue her."