Hello, guys... This is my second story/second slash. I hope you enjoy it. I will upload in a roughly two to three week rhythm. Let me know what you think about it, I don`t bite.

A big Thank You goes to my beta Monkeywand. She did an awesome job of answering faster than I thought and reading through this. It really means a lot for me to get help from a native.

Well, enough of the sweet-talk, you are here to read a story.

Disclaimer: Everything that sounds familiar (e.g. characters) does not belong to me, but the CBS. This goes for the whole story.

Sam Hanna had always been patient. During his training with the Navy-Seals he had to wait often enough without being allowed to do anything. But what Hetty wanted from him now was just too much. Lying on his desk was one paper pile after another: bills, reports, documents and who knows what else that he ought to sort, file, fill out and write. Sure, he was behind schedule, but that wasn't his fault, right? And today of all days she had to keep him in the office until everything was done. Fair enough, everybody else had to do their stuff, too, but nobody was unhappier than Sam.

"Hah!" Sam shouted, earning startled looks from the whole office. "I. Am. Done!" he called out, bursting with excitement and threw the last file on the pile that went back to Hetty. Kensi buried her head in her hands, sighing and looked from her own considerably high pile to her colleague. But Sam sensed her wish immediately.

"No, Kensi. Don't even think about it. You will stay here with Nate, Eric and Dom like a good girl and finish your stuff. And I will go home now. That's what I have been waiting for all day. Just me, a cool beer and my 50 inch plasma TV."

"Well then. Say hello to... your TV for me, okay?" Nate grinned. Sam shook his head smiling. It was a mystery to him how the psychologist always manage to catch him lying despite his excellent under-cover skills.

Of course he wouldn't drive home. How could he? G was lying in the hospital and he, his best friend, should drive home, without at least visiting the crazy fellow? Granted, Callen didn't get much out of these visits, but Sam was sure, that he had a profit out of it somehow. Determined he headed for the California Hospital Medical Center.

The rush-hour traffic was already over at the late hour, but the streets were everything but empty. Just before the big crossroad where the Rosa Parks Freeway turned into the Santa Monica Freeway and then crossed the Harbor Freeway, Sam turned right on Hope Street to reach the guest entrance of the hospital. He liked the name of that street - Hope - as it was exactly what he needed. Hope that G would wake up again.

In silence, Sam stood at Callen's bedside and looked down on his partner and friend. He was a pale as the sheets surrounding him. Only his chest moved up and down rhythmically, supported by a machine. Another one showed his heart rhythm, which at that time was lying a bit under the normal rates. But that was not alarming, as Callen didn't move. To be exact, he hadn't moved since five days ago. He also hadn't opened his eyes and smiled. And he hadn't open his mouth to explain Sam that he didn't had to blame himself.

Wordlessly, Sam sat down and put his hand on G's. There is was again, that flutter in his stomach. He had felt it before when he was with his younger colleague, but it wasn't until the day of the shooting when he realized what it was: love. He looked down on the face of his partner. Eyes closed, G laid completely peaceful, nothing showing the struggle for survival inside. But Sam couldn't let him die. G couldn't go without hearing what he felt for him and say - hopefully - the same back. Sam pressed the cool, small hand in his harder.

When the gunfire went off, G Callen was in no way prepared. With one eye still greeting Sam, with the other watching the girl that somehow looked so familiar, he didn't see the black vehicle. It was not until the acoustic signal reached him when he realized what was happening. But by then, it was already too late. The lead perforated his chest, stomach and shoulders in five places.

Callen sank onto the hard asphalt that was soaked with his blood. He saw the car driving off, saw Sam shooting after it. Then his vision went black. He felt the strong arms off his friend and heard him calling 911. Desperately he was trying to tell him something, if these would be the last seconds they would spend together, but he had already lost control over his lips.

"Don't do that to me, G! Stay with me!" But Callen couldn't fight against it. He lost consciousness and fell into deep darkness.

The dark was comfortable. Here, there was nothing. Here he didn't feel pain anymore, everything was long forgotten and receded into the distance. G Callen wanted to stay in that pleasant state of abeyance; he had no wishes anymore and no needs. But, deep in his heart, he heard his name muttered. He knew the voice that spoke, but the pleading and sad undertone was completely unknown to him.

Callen realized that the voice wasn't with him in the nothing, but outside. It was calling him, wanting him to leave the dark. G knew that outside of the nothing, there would be pain awaiting him, but his heart wanted to hear this voice more often.

G Callen took all his strength and broke free from the dark. Only to awake in a completely dark room. The line on the monitor bounced stronger. It became regular. Pixel after pixel strung together and formed a bilious green line that moved over the black of the monitor. Up, down, up, down. Normal.

At about 4 in the morning, Sam awoke. The tingle in his gone dead arm that hung askew on the bed had woken him. He was still with G, he realized, and he was still holding his hand. Intuitively the Seal in him knew that something in the room had changed. Someone was watching him. Slowly, he took a look around and when he realized who followed him with bright blue eyes, he almost fell of the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Sam, you snore like a drunken sailor!"