Disclaimer: Now here's a surprise… I don't own NCIS: LA or any of its characters. If I did Callen would get hurt more often and would wear a thigh holster in every episode.

A/N: #1 This was born during a talk with my friend Lizz (lizard971), we were both complaining about two things: we didn't get to enjoy the whump because the screen went black too soon and there wasn't any hint of Callen's recovery time. So once the seed was planted in my mind, it wasn't long 'til it grew on its own.

#2. The story is complete but I won't post it all 'cause I still don't have all the chapters betaed but It'sMyFavoriteSong is working on it and I don't like to pressure people so when she's done you'll get them. And while we're on the subject, taking care of my screwed up grammar is not an easy job so thank you for that!

#3. And this is the last one, I promise. Reviews are greatly appreciated so if you have the time please share your thoughts with me. I want to be better and I can only do that with your help.

Shutting up now…

After the Bullets Stopped Flying

By: Laz

Chapter 1

Sam's POV

Sam had seen his fair share of action in and after his time in the SEALS, but this was different. This wasn't a special op, this wasn't part of a case, it was just a random moment in life, nothing important about it. He had dropped G at his place, wherever it was at the time, countless times before. Why would this be any different? Maybe because… what was it that he said? Oh yeah, that he felt like he was being watched. That should've alerted something, but it didn't. We joked like we always did; our line of work makes life tough enough as it is, so we need to lighten it a bit whenever we can.

But then it happened.

I almost missed them because the pretty girls were slightly distracting, but it didn't take me long to put it together: the speeding van + the gun + G = disaster. That math is never wrong. I got out of the car, I drew my gun, I screamed his name… and it didn't make one bit of a difference. I saw him take hit, after hit, after hit 'til the force of the bullets threw his body to the ground. I ran as fast as I could, but I saw every damn detail in slow motion. I don't know how many shots I fired at the van, but one look at my partner down on the floor and all thoughts of taking out the van flew from my mind.

I knelt next to him, grabbed him by the neck, and cradled his head in my lap. I kept telling him to stay with me, but I'm still not sure if the words were out loud or if I was begging him inside my head. His breathing came in short, shallow breaths but I took comfort in the fact that he was breathing. The pain reflected in his eyes was raw, and it made my gut twist. I tried not to lose more time than necessary, but as I made the call for help I could see his white shirt turning crimson at an alarming speed.

His eyes were barely open, and the pool of blood under us kept growing. I knew I had to put pressure on the wound, but there were so many… I just didn't know where I should start. I chose the largest and most profuse wound, and pressed hard enough to stop the blood flow without causing him more damage. He stiffened in response to the pressure but other than that he barely acknowledged the action.

There's a crowd gathering, that much Sam's aware of, but he doesn't care. His buddy is dying in front of him and he feels powerless. Helplessly he watched as the man before him fought to survive, knowing that there was nothing he could really do but keep talking to him until help arrived. Then, to his horror, G suddenly began gasping and blood began sliding down the corner of his mouth. In shock, Sam failed to realized the meaning of it all because just as suddenly, Callen went completely still in his arms. He was unprepared for the man in front of him to stop breathing completely.

"Come on, buddy. Don't do this to me!" he yelled at his unconscious partner.

After a moment, Sam carefully laid him flat on the ground, tipping G's head back and straightening his neck. Sitting back on his heels, he placed his hands and silently counted the compressions and breathed for his partner. Never in his life had he thought he would need to practiced CPR on Callen, but he prayed the son of a bitch would start breathing on his own soon because he couldn't stand it. Before he realized what's going on, was being pushed aside by paramedicsand watching as they tried to save his best friend's life.

They cut away Callen's clothes, putting gauze that rapidly got soaked, on all the wounds. Sam was a grown man, he had seen everything there was to see, but when he saw them sliding a tube down his partner's throat he had to look away. He heard bits and pieces, multiple gunshot wounds, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, some arterial bleeding and the most terrifying words he ever heard in his life… "He's got no pulse!"

He heard the words and the unstopping beep, when he looked again and saw the metal paddles he didn't need to be told what they were for. He winced as Callen's body convulsed from the shock to his already damaged chest.

"Again!" the paramedic shouted. G looked like a lifeless puppet bouncing off the sidewalk.

Once more, Sam flinched and unconsciously prayed, but nothing happened. They upped the jules and they shocked him again. The alarm stopped. The monitor beeped, paused, then beeped again. They'd gotten him back. For how long though, Sam didn't know.