Oh, well, he felt like it.
The last three days had been a marathon, and it was culminating with nothing that made him feel sunshine-y and happy.
In fact, it was the opposite.
He wanted to rage over a lot of things, and it took a great deal for Raphael to lose his cool.
But he was there.
As was Uriel.
And Elizabeth.
“Is she in there?” Ethan asked.
His best friend nodded.
“Yeah, I got her to calm down, but she’s in need of some food, some rest, and a break. In that order. She hasn’t eaten much. On day one, we were able to get a rare sandwich or so into her, but now…nothing.”
Callen pointed to the pink elephant in the room.
Or black one.
“I’m going to assume that’s Jet,” he said, pointing at the body bag on the bench seating.
He nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, his heart hurting just looking at it.
Heading over to it, Ethan put his hand on the bag and could feel his chest beneath the material.
“I’m sorry, Jet,” he said.
Callen approached.
While their wife was not there, he wanted to see the man. He wanted to say his goodbyes. If they did this at the FBI office, she’d want to do it again.
And again.
And again.
He didn’t want her to relive this. If Callen could wipe her memory of this, he would.
Opening the bag, they saw the man they called family. He was gray, and the vicious exit and entry wounds made them so angry.
Security stood back, and for one reason. Raphael couldn’t look at him anymore.
If he did, he was crying again.
It took a lot to break them, and he and Uriel had taken turns sitting by Jet, giving him the honor he deserved.
Marines left no one behind.
NO.
ONE.
With gentle fingers, Callen touched his forehead and closed his eyes.
