Inspired by a scene from "LD50" ; it's time for Callen to make good on his promise

Prompt: For a gift fic challenge; 'NCIS:LA; humour, any characters


Inspired by the scene from "LD50" where Hetty is worried about spilling secrets in her old age leading to the following exchange -

Hetty:""So when the time comes, as you put it, there is something you can do. You can smother me with a pillow. Make sure it's synthetic. I'm allergic to feathers."

G. Callen: "Ok."


"Kensi sends her love," Callen said, gazing out of the window. Outside, some of the other, more sprightly residents were playing bowls. "She's on loan to MI5."

"Make sure you get her back," Hetty said. "You're the boss now, Mr Callen."

Callen nodded, turning to look at the mirror. His hair, longer than it had ever been allowed to grow, was more grey than anything now. As was the beard which he thought made him look distinguished but which Sam called the "chin rat".

"I don't know how you did it, Hetty," Callen said. "The stress. The politics. The paperwork!" He casually picked up a throw pillow, squeezing it between his hands to test the firmness.

"You never made it easy, Gaylord," Hetty said.

"No. No, I didn't. And I'm sorry for that. Truly." Callen crossed the room and pushed Hetty back into the armchair, bringing up the cushion to her face. "Don't struggle. You told me to do this."

Thwack! Hetty had grabbed her cane from the side of her chair and dealt him a harsh blow to his head, sending him stumbling backwards. Before he could recover, she'd hit him again by his knee, sending him sprawling to the floor.

"I'm not senile yet you imbecile," she roared, getting to her feet and raising the weapon.

"Sorry," Callen croaked, curling up into a ball as the cane hit him again and again.


"Mr Callen!"

Callen sat up, startled, one hand going to his weapon. "Wha- what the?"

Across from him, Sam was smirking. Kensi was leaning over her laptop, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"Sleeping on the job?" Hetty asked archly.

"No. Never," Callen swore. "I was just – thinking about this report. Closing my eyes helps me visualize the events better."

Seeing she wasn't convinced, he added, "It was Nate's idea."

"Hmm," Hetty said, snapping the ruler she was holding once again. It gave him an idea where the sound of the cane hitting him had come from. "I need your expenses by five tonight, Mr Callen. Not five oh three or five oh four. Five."

"Absolutely. Promise, Hetty," Callen said and, the dream fresh in his mind, added, "I'm sorry if I make your job more difficult."

She frowned but then gave him a warm smile. "I forgive you, Mr Callen, since there is never malicious intent when you cause me problems. It's a small price to pay for your exceptional abilities."

Hetty walked away. Sam threw a ball of paper at Callen.

"She catches you sleeping on the job and somehow you end up being Golden Boy," he complained. "Suck up."

Callen rubbed at his head, his short hair, his lovely not-grey hair, and then checked for facial hair. "Man, I was having the weirdest dream," he said. "It was in the future and I had this beard, and I tried to smother Hetty and she started beating me to death with her cane."

Kensi looked up. "What have you been smoking?" she asked.

"Nothing!" Callen sighed. "And you know what the worst part was?"

"There was worse?" Sam asked.

Callen shivered. "My name was Gaylord," he whispered, knowing it had been a mistake to confide this when Sam began laughing and Kensi nearly fell off her chair with hysterics.