Thank you for all of your reviews! They really, truly spur me on! The more I saw, the more I wanted to write! Hopefully this will meet with your expectations.
Lady Winter
The first thing that Sam was aware of was the sound of running water.
It took more than a minute to focus as his sharp mind tried to figure out just what was going on.
Nothing felt quite right, and he finally forced himself to open his eyes.
The view that greeted him was a surprise.
He was still sitting in his seat in the Challenger, but the whole car was cock-eyed and the driver's side was half up in the air. The windshield was a massive spider web – the glass having half come out the front of the vehicle in an odd looking, unbreakable mess. Beyond the glass, were trees, back lit by the setting sun and there was the distinct sound of running water.
"Crashed," Sam muttered, and then it came back in a flood. "G!"
He remembered everything then. The relaxing, sun soaked ride, the normal banter between himself and Callen – and then the Suburban and the gun – and then the crash.
Sam twisted in his seat, the seat belt holding him in – probably having saved his life and his chest ached where the belt cut across him and he winced.
As the sun was going down, it was darker in the car than he liked, and that wasn't helped by the trees that were casting more shadows, but he could still see his partner.
The passenger side of the Challenger was obviously resting on the ground and G was lying against the door, not moving. Sam thanked God that he could see the seat belt, still around Callen's body – it wasn't often that the other agent chose to wear one.
"G! Callen!" he called urgently, trying to figure out just how to get to his partner. When it was clear that if he released the seat belt, he'd fall directly on G, he gave up that idea, and for a moment, forced himself to be still. Then he peered down at Callen and waited until his eyes adjusted and he could see his partner's chest moving – indicating he was alive if nothing else.
Sam couldn't help the sigh of relief, but he didn't like the fact that Callen was entirely motionless. "G! Come on man, wake up," he called, and was pleased when his calls were met by a soft groan.
"Stop shouting…"
Sam wanted to laugh.
"G, you ok man?"
He waited as he watched G shift, ever so slightly. He could see his best friend realizing that he was basically lying on his side, up against the door.
"And Hetty says I'm a lousy driver," G muttered, pressing one hand against the door and pushing, only to hiss in barely concealed pain.
"Callen!" Sam said, voice tight from worry. G turned his head finally, making eye contact with Sam and the former SEAL saw that the right side of G's face was sheeted in drying blood and that he had contusions all over his face – no doubt from the shattered glass.
"You don't look so good, big guy," Callen said slowly. "You ok?" The concern was heavy in his voice and for the first time, Sam stopped to consider if he was injured.
"Yeah, hit my head," Sam admitted. "Are you ok?"
Callen paused for a moment. "Something doesn't feel right…" he admitted and Sam could see him squirm a little and there was another hiss of pain. G swore softly, almost angrily.
"What is it?" Sam asked; dread creeping up through his stomach.
"Problem," G admitted. "I think I've been shot."
"You think you've been shot?" Sam demanded, anger racing through him like fire. He forced himself to focus, eyes roving over G – and that was when he could make out a dark, wet spot on Callen's right thigh and his eyes tracked to the door that G was leaning against. He counted several holes where bullets had passed through the car.
Callen's eyes were on him, worry evident, and Sam suddenly realized that G was scrutinizing him, searching his body for injuries – for gunshot wounds. Sam blinked then looked down, searching his own body. He was surprised to find no gaping, bleeding wounds.
"A bunch of bullets came through, and of course you had to get in the way of one of them," he said bitterly, and Callen looked shocked. Sam was apologetic right away, but there were other things on his mind. "It is only one, G, right?" he demanded suddenly.
Wouldn't it just be like G Callen to minimize something so serious. Callen shot him a dangerous glare.
"Yes Sam, just one." The reply was biting, but Sam couldn't blame him.
They were lying at the bottom of a ravine, their car was shot up, maybe leaking gas, wedged in between some trees, they were both clearly injured – and G had been shot.
"Call Hetty," G ordered harshly, obviously angry.
"Fine, I will," Sam said and reached for his phone – only to come up empty. He looked around wildly, the seatbelt still holding him in place, the pain worsening every time he moved. "It's gone," he said, all trace of irritation towards G melting away. "I must have lost it when we rolled down the hill," he admitted.
G grunted in acknowledgment and began to move, slow and stiff, and Sam saw him flinch when he put some weight on his right shoulder that was leaning against the door. The crash had most definitely banged his partner up.
Slowly, painfully, Callen got one hand down in between the door and where his phone was in his pocket. He swore again when he had to shift his weight, which required moving the leg that had been shot. Finally, after what seemed like a difficult struggle, the phone slipped free.
In the increasing darkness, Sam could just make out the flash of surprise on Callen's face before a grim smile appeared. "I found out where another one of those bullets went," he said, and with his left hand, he offered the phone up to Sam. Sam took the phone, noting how badly G was shaking with the exertion of giving it to him.
A bullet was firmly imbedded in the center of the phone. It had obviously saved Callen another ugly bullet wound, but it robbed them of a way to communicate.
"That's going to leave a bruise G, and I think Hetty will be surprised that iPhones double as body armor."
Callen chuckled, but it sounded a little weak, and in the diminishing light, Sam could see that his partner was flagging. The struggle to get the phone had been too much. There was no way for Sam to tell just how much blood Callen had lost, or just how badly he was injured. Just the fact that Callen hadn't already attempted to escape the car was worrying.
If Sam was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure how badly he himself was hurt. Adrenaline was still racing through his body, making it hard to tell just what hurt and what didn't. The one thing he did know was that they really had to get out of there.
He was just about to say so to G when he realized his partner was too quiet. G had gone back to resting his head on the door frame, jagged glass inches from his face, and his blue eyes were closed again.
"G?" Sam called.
"Just need a minute, Sam," Callen tried to reassure him, but his voice held a slurred edge.
Sam swore to himself. "Not another concussion, G. Hetty is going to kill me. She told me like two weeks ago that it's my express job to keep you from damaging that valuable brain you have by not banging it around inside your skull…" He had hoped to get some sort of reaction out of the normally vibrant agent, but G just grunted a little. The story was true, but that didn't matter now. "Callen – you have to stay awake. If you have a concussion, you can't fall asleep. You hear me? G!"
There was no answer forth coming and this time, Sam swore out loud. "Don't do this to me G! Once was enough!" Still, he got no reaction. Sam lifted his right hand to check his watch, wanting to know just how long it had been since the accident, but his watch had been smashed in the crash. At least he knew exactly what time it had been – 4:18pm.
Hetty wouldn't be expecting them to check in until at least 7, but she might not worry until 8. Sam looked out through the broken glass at the last of the burning red sun as it dipped towards the ocean. The sun had been setting just after 6:30 these days – which meant that for two hours, he and G had been lying in the wrecked car – and G had been shot.
The former SEAL knew he couldn't waste any more time – he had to move. He had to stop G from bleeding out and he had to get them out of the car – especially before the temperatures dropped. Then he would have to get them back up to the road and find help. The only comfort he had was how alert Callen had been earlier – if the bullet had hit an artery, chances are, G would already have been dead. It also made sense that the bullet had slowed as it had passed through the door, so it was most likely still in Callen's leg and was probably acting like a cork of sorts.
At least that gave him a place to start. He had a plan. Get free of the seatbelt, try not to land on his injured partner while performing that act, and get Callen as patched up as possible.
Then he'd move to stage two.