this is a story I've had in mind for a while. Enjoy! (or not)

Chapter one

Callen woke up. He had dreamt of something from his past again. Well, at least he thought it was a memory. "I wonder why it's only at night, in my sleep, that I can remember that guy on the beach"

he thought. It was always the same dream: he would be playing with the sand, when a man would come and give him a tin soldier. Every night he dreamt about it, and he would always wake up

then, without knowing what came next.

G shook his head, as if the memories would go away with the movement.

- 4:02 - he groaned looking at the clock. He stayed quiet, sitting on the bed. HIS bed, or at least that is what the woman said. But he knew better. This was the 14th foster home he had lived in, and

he was just wondering how long it would be this time before his new "family" would return him to the orphanage.

Slowly, he stood up, and went down the hall to the kitchen. Before he could reach it, he bumped into his foster father who was drinking a can of beer in front of the TV.

- What do you think you are doing here? – shouted the man.

"Great, he's drunk again". He had only been in that house for three days, and it was the second time he had seen him drinking too much.

-I was thirsty – Callen said with a weak voice.

His foster father grumbled in response.

G was not weak at all, but he had experienced lots of times the anger of some of his "dads", so he knew he had to adapt, and in this house he thought the appearance of a weak, shy guy would be best for his survival.

- Boy, get what you want and leave! What is taking you so long?

- Sorry Sir. it won't happen again- as he saw him trying (and failing) to stand up, he quickly responded.

- You don't need to stand up Sir. I'll be leaving now- he exited right after,being careful to avoid giving him a reason to punch him.

You might think that G was a coward, but he was only trying to stay alive. Since he had been born, he had experienced the unthinkable, and in his 15 year old life, he had only known chaos. Because

of his experience at adapting and hiding his emotions, he had become an excellent actor. "Chameleon" he had been once called, and the guy who said it wasn't mistaken. The other kids in the

orphanage were different from him. Some had the memories of their beloved ones to help them continue. The others were the luckiest ones; they were able to continue with their lives as, in the end,

it was all new for them, no memories to hold them back. Some would say that Callen was one of that last group, but he wasn't like them. Hell! At least every one of them knew their own names! And

what did he have, he only had a letter. "G".

"Calm down, calm down, go to sleep, tomorrow you'll find a way to get out of here" he thought. It was his rule number 1: leave before bad things happen, and for what he had just seen, the

problems were just about to begin.

first nics los angeles fic, please don't be cruel...