Summary: Callen is revisited by his haunting past.
Author's Notes:The characters of NCIS: Los Angeles do not belong to me, and I do not own the rights to them sadly. :( I just like playing with them. ;) ...All ideas belong to Angel Estrada at Stokes Fanficz, so please don't plagerize! ...Oh yeah, and this is completely un-beta'd. :) Rated T for traumatic scenes. Feedback (As well as Con-Crit) is very much welcomed. :)

"He's not gonna do it, Sam!" Callen yelled, pleading with his partner to understand that he had control of the situation. "He dropped the clip!"

Callen inched closer to the man, hands in the air, signaling that he wasn't going to hurt the perp. "Look, we just want to help you, okay? Put the gun down and let's talk things out."

The man stayed silent, shakily keeping the barrel of the gun pointed at G.

"Come on, G.! Call it off! Might be one in the chamber!"

Callen ignored his partner's wishes. "Tell me what you want." He continued walking closer to the man before him, finally standing right in front of him. "Let's cut a deal." Callen lowered his hands and the perp's eyes finally met his.

Still, the man remained muted, taking his eyes off of Callen. G. stared down the barrel, calm and collected. "I know things got crazy, man. That's why I'm here. Now, let's... let's talk about this. Hand me your weapon."

Sam kept a close eye on the man, his firearm still aimed in perfect position, ready to take a shot at a moment's notice.

The man finally surrendered his weapon to Callen, and G. took it gratefully. "That's it. See? It's that easy."

Just as G.'s arms reached behind his back to secure the man's gun in his own empty holster, the perp reached for something in his pocket. Sam spotted a metallic-looking object protruding from the man's pocket, assumed it was another firearm, and instinctively fired his own weapon at the man's hand.

The next few moments played out like a slow-motion scene from an action movie to Sam Hanna. G. Callen's body took flight, along with the perp's, as they, along with pieces of the detonator, came crashing to the ground.

...24 HOURS EARLIER...

In, he walked. Eyes bloodshot. Clothes wrinkled... and he didn't care. Now, he was bait.

"Sleep well last night?" Sam jokingly asked with a highly amused smirk. Callen glared back at him. "What's on your mind, G.?"

Callen shook his head, "Not a thing."

"Come on, G.," Sam glanced around, making sure they were alone, then turned back to Callen, "you know I ain't buyin' that for a sec."

"I'm fine," Callen met Sam's eyes in an attempt to convince him, and still, Sam wasn't buying it.

"Whatever you say," Sam finally dropped the subject, studying his partner's uneasy body language.

Callen dropped his bag and sat down at his desk. "So, did you get those tickets?"

"Courtside," Sam grinned. "Kobe and LeBron? You really think I'd let us miss out on that, G.?"

"LeBron," a familiar voice interjected.

Callen and Sam both turned to face the man interrupting their conversation.

"LeBron? Really, Deeks?" Callen raised his brow.

"Everyone knows Kobe's got more game than Lebron," Sam added.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Deeks questioned.

"Well, for starters, we do live in L.A." Callen smirked, stating the obvious.

"Ten bucks says LeBron takes Kobe. People underestimate him sometimes. I've seen him play. I'm just sayin'."

Sam and G. simultaneously turned to face each other, small smirks appearing on both of their faces.

"Did he just place a bet on Kobe, G.?"

"Sounded like a bet to me," Callen grinned, playing along.

"Alright, Deeks. Ten bucks. It's on," Sam commented.

"What? I didn't... I... It's a figure of speech! Come on, guys! That's like... That's like twenty bucks, if I lose!" Deeks whined.

"That's funny, because five seconds ago, you were pretty confident that LeBron could 'take' Kobe," G. retorted.

Deeks sighed. "Okay, fine. If... Scratch that- When LeBron wins? You both owe me ten bucks."

"...And when Kobe wins," Sam replied, amused, "you'll owe us twenty."

A loud whistle came from the balcony at the top of the steps before Deeks had a chance to respond.

"Director's online in five!" Eric shouted with a bounce in his step, iPad in hand, decked out in flip flops, beige shorts, and a blue Hawaiian shirt.

The team members glanced between each other and quickly started up the steps, just as Kensi was making her way in.

"Whoa! Hold on, guys! What'd I miss?" Kensi dropped her belongings at her desk and jogged towards the staircase.

Callen led them in, anxious to hear what the director had to say. "What can you tell us, Eric?" He asked curiously.

"Well," Eric began, only to be interrupted by Leon Vance's early appearance on the wall monitor. Eric shrugged and pointed. "Director's online."

"Nice of you to join us, Agent Blye," the Director jabbed, as Kensi made her way in, obviously late.

"What do we have, Director?" Callen questioned.

"Agent Callen, the body of a thirty-one year old male was found off the PCH about an hour ago. He had six gunshot wounds in various places of his body. PD found an abandoned car a few miles down the road, which we believe belonged to him. They're currently collecting what little evidence was left of it. Someone attempted to burn it."

"What else do we know?" Called nodded toward the screen.

"The body was that of Landon Chastain." Eric pulled up a picture and credentials of the deceased and the Director continued. "He had a wife and two kids. Relatives say he was everyone's friend and had no enemies."

"What does this have to do with NCIS?" Callen asked, slightly annoyed.

"Former U.S. Navy Seal. We received a package today with a flash drive enclosed." Eric already had its files loaded onto his computer. The Director went on, "The drive contained some encrypted pictures..."

"Which, I decrypted," Eric chimed in with an accomplished smile.

The Director nodded, continuing as Eric placed the pictures on the monitor before them. "Four different bodies, all with GSW's, around the same age, same ethnicity."

Callen's brow furrowed in confusion as he studied them, deep in thought. Sam eyed his partner worriedly.

"Agent Callen, do these men look familiar to you?"

G. didn't answer.

"Agent Callen?"

Finally, G. shook his head, still staring at the photographs on the monitor. Never making eye contact with the Director, he softly replied, "No," and quickly expunged himself from the Ops Center.