A/N: Yeah, I know. I shouldn't be starting ANOTHER story but I'm sorry. I will try and actually update and if there's a week break from this update and the next one PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE send me a PM! I need the pestering!

Anywho...

Season 2 episode 1 we say G chasing that ninja guy up and down the streets of LA. So guess what? He's back and this time it isn't a nightmare... or so Callen thinks.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not awesome enough to think up characters or plots as cool as anything mentioned in this. I own nothing and am making no money from this. I just enjoy causing G mass amounts of pain. Which kinda scares me... that and the length of this disclaimer.

" Turn left." G ordered his partner as they drove back from lunch. Sam didn't respond. " Sam, turn left. It's faster."

" I know which way's faster G. Straight and then I go left on Miranda." Hanna argued. Callen shook his head,

" It's at least three minutes quicker turning left. Right here Sam! Turn!" he tapped the window impatiently, but Sam didn't move the wheel. " Sam!"

" No. I'm not letting you make us late, again."

" When have I made us late?" Callen demanded.

" Three times." Sam replied, G snorted. That was hardly anything. " Today." his partner added.

" When?" Sam smirked, and counted off on his fingers.

" You were late when I picked you up. Late turning in my paperwork I handed you yesterday, and late-"

G's eyes widened in stunned terror. Suddenly Sam's mysterious partner began to undo his seatbelt and snapped,

" Sam, stop the car! Stop the car now!"

His heart might've stopped, it was possible, but he didn't know for sure. G's blood screamed for him to jump out of the car. He had seen that man before. Many, many times before. Always escaping, never with a face. But he was always there, every time. The black sweatshirt, the cargo pants. He could almost hear the click of the camera over Sam's demands. His hand slammed the button down to release the seatbelt, while the others scrabbled at the door handle.

Sam floored the brake, skidding the car onto the curb. The look in his best friend's eyes was similar to one of a predator on a hunt. It was terrifying, it was the side of G that made him sure he was going to die on the job in the near future. What really worried Sam was that he believed it. That man had no reason to live, no family, no personal life. He had friends, all of them at work. His life revolved around his work. Sometimes Sam wondered if it weren't for the mystery called G's past would he still be here. Maybe that's why no one told him what the G stood for; they somehow knew it would drive G to keep going, no matter what.

Callen threw himself out of the door before the vehicle came to a full stop. Pain riveted through his legs but he ignored it, the adrenaline making up for any discomfort.

Sweatshirt guy sprinted away, down the street. G gave chase, his feet moving faster than usual, his heart trying to break his ribs. Tossing aside people and garbage cans, G sprinted in a dead run. It was now or never. Now or never.

The man swerved, ducked and dodged in a mad attempt to escape. Except this time G was expecting it and dodged, ducked, and swerved to keep up. He barely heard Sam's yell behind him. Later he'd get chewed out for running away but for now he had to keep going. There was no way in hell the man was escaping this time.

G slid on the asphalt as the man jerked to the right, across busy traffic. Without a second thought, Callen followed. Cars and people alike swore. The noise overcrowded his ears, making it impossible to hear the oncoming taxi.

BAM!

Pain ripped up the right side of his body, mainly his shoulder, as Callen rolled up the front of a taxi. Someone cursed and screeched at him, but G was already limping away, causing mass chaos in the street. But it didn't matter, he was close.

Except every step hurt, every breath costed him a little more strength. Blood trickled down his face and burned his tongue. He wasn't sure if his shoulder was dislocated but adrenaline kept him going, if a little more uncomfortable than before.

Sweatshirt hopped over a fence, G hot on his heels, even if he did bite back the scream that erupted from the new strain on his agonized muscles. Slipping inside the coolness of a store, Sweatshirt disappeared for a moment and G felt fear explode inside his chest, strengthening his will to go faster. No, no, no! He wouldn't, couldn't, withstand more months of not knowing. Of chases at night, of never seeing the face. Of never finding out why.

G dived forward, making a wild grab at the man's leg.

His fingers strangled flesh and suddenly they were both going down, the shoppers screeching in surprise. He hit the floor with a loud thud, and couldn't help but groan. Sweatshirt moaned much louder.

" G! What the hell?" Sam growled, entering the store abruptly. G stood up shakily,

" He was at the graveyard. He was the one who was taking pictures." Callen panted, wiping away blood and saliva from his mouth. Hanna sighed and flashed his badge to the owner, stepping forward to Sweatshirt who was sprawled on the ground, making sounds like an asthmatic car that hadn't seen an oil change in decades. On a normal day, he would've made a crack about how he worked with suicidal idiots. But on a normal day, they'd be arguing about how Miranda was the fastest way to work.

" What? What graveyard?" Sweatshirt demanded, a nasal voice paired with a scared voice of a kid no older than seventeen. His dark hair and scruffy eyebrows gave him an almost innocent look.

" You were taking pictures of me ten months ago! Gravestone, Hannah Lawson's." Callen spat back, determination pulsating from his raging eyes. But Sam had his doubts. From what G had told him, the camera man had worn a plain black sweatshirt and cargo pants. This guy's sweatshirt was obviously a chocolate brown with an insignia on the left corner, and his pants were a dark denim.

" G, this isn't our man." Sam announced quietly, turning away slightly from the suspect. Callen whirled on him, eyes wide with rage.

" What?" he hissed.

Sam sighed, wishing he was wrong, " His sweatshirt is brown." he explained shortly. Callen wheeled around. His eyes died as he realized Sam was right.

" I saw him Sam, his sweatshirt was black." Callen denied weakly.

But there was nothing either of them could do. This kid wasn't their guy. G had chased the wrong guy, somehow. G Callen was an expert agent, he would never make such a rudimentary mistake as this. He slipped in an out of aliases as easy as Kensi changed clothes. He asked the right questions and got the right answers. Hetty Lange hired him for God's sake. He followed his gut and was generally correct. Except now. Now he was wrong, now he had chased the wrong man. Gotten hit by a taxi for no reason. Made a scene out of nothing. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say G was incompetent.

" C'mon man, let's go." Sam gripped his stunned partner's shoulder to turn him around, but Callen winced and pulled away. For the first time Sam saw the blood on the side of his partner's face and the bruise forming on his cheek. His shoulder could've been dislocated but it was hard to tell. Hetty would be mad. " Sorry." Sam added to the kid and then to the rest of the store. " Sorry, our mistake."

But G wasn't ready to leave. " I saw him Sam. I know I did." he muttered.

" Well he's not here anymore. Let's go." Hanna ordered, noting the strange looks they were getting from everyone with apprehension.

" He was here." G argued.

" Hey buddy!" a middle aged, balding man called out to Sam. " Keep them crazies off the streets, will ya?"

Murder flashed in Callen's eyes and he nearly lunged forward, but Sam grabbed his good arm and practically dragged him back.

" Not worth it man. Not worth it. Now, get your skinny ass out the door." Sam hissed. G hesitated. His partner was right. The jeer wasn't worth a fight. He just wanted to punch someone. Just wanted to release his rage and frustration. He had seen him. Callen knew he was right. He had seen the camera man, he knew he had. But here was the proof he hadn't. If it had been anyone else, G would've wondered just what they had been taking lately. But it wasn't and Callen knew, he just knew as surely as knew that he must look like a lunatic right now, that Sweatshirt, the real Sweatshirt, had been here.

" I saw him." he grumbled and left. Sam nodded at the shocked store owner and followed his partner. Watching him limp down the street, blood flowing freely from his face, his breathing hard and his rage tangible, Sam had to wonder, what the hell had he seen?

Review and I'll update quicker! Critiscm is adored! (If that's spelled wrong, I apologize, my spell check isn't picking it up but I have a quirky computer!)

Have a wonderful, safe summer!

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