Chapter 3 –

Thanks again for all the reviews – they definitely encourage me!

-Lady Winter

Sam held onto the ceiling handle tightly with his left hand as he sawed away at the seatbelt with the knife he always carried. He had his right knee braced against the center console, and his muscles were tense. The very last thing he wanted was to cut the belt and land on Callen.

It felt like an eternity had passed since G had lapsed back into unconsciousness, most likely caused by a concussion, and Sam was starting to get edgy. It had taken too long to get the knife and too long to move so he was properly braced.

Luckily, the knife was sharp – and the belt gave way fairly quickly. As soon as it let go, all of his muscular weight came crashing down onto his knee and the pain that lanced through his chest when his left hand kept a firm grip was enough to pull a muffled cry from the former SEAL. He winced as he rode the pain out.

"Sam?" The call was soft, and for a moment, Sam thought he imagined it in the roaring in his ears, but then he realized it was G.

"G? You back with me?" he asked hopefully.

"You ok?" G replied, his voice sounding drained and anxious.

"Maybe a broken rib or two," Sam admitted, his head starting to ache at the movement, but now that he was free, he had to see to his injured partner.

"Gotta get you out of here, then," Callen said, his voice lazy in a way Sam didn't like – but despite the concussion, G seemed to be thinking like his normal self.

"Let's worry about you first, ok?" Sam said in response and using all of his strength to hold his body the way he wanted it, he carefully moved so that he could put one foot down on the passenger side door frame of the car where the window had been. The minute he put his weight down, the car shifted, the metal groaning as it tipped away from the tree it had been leaning on, rocking further onto the passenger side.

Callen tried to stifle a groan of pain as he shifted with the car, his injured leg being pressed further into the door.

Sam froze, pulling his upper body back up, but unfortunately, the car rocked back the way it had been and moved G again. This time, Callen bit his tongue to keep from crying out, but Sam could see the grimace of pain on his face even in the dusky darkness filling the car.

"G, I'm so sorry…" he said quickly.

"Don't apologize," G replied, his voice rough. "At least the pain clears my head," he said, trying to make Sam feel better, but that worried Sam worse. Still, an alert Callen was better than the alternative.

Sam said nothing, thinking for a minute on how to proceed.

As usual, Callen was impatient. "Sam, you can't hang up there all day."

"If I come down there, I'm going to rock the car again, G. And that's clearly not good for you."

"What are you going to do then? Fly out of here on fairy wings?" G teased, and it would have been very normal if G hadn't been lying on what was now the 'bottom' of the car bleeding. "Let's just get it over with. You have to come down. I can see you're in pain."

As usual, G was right. The strain from hanging there was burning fire through his ribs, making it a little hard to breath.

"Alright," he finally agreed. "But if you tell Hetty that I purposefully hurt you, I'm going to repeat this conversation word for word, and tell her you called me a fairy," he griped. He was rewarded with a tired smile from G – which was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "And don't even get me started about what I'll do to you if you mention this to Nate – he'll say something about how you hurt the people you love the most," he continued to grouse, but he lowered his body, hoping the distraction would be enough to help Callen ride out the pain.

It wasn't.

When he finally settled all his weight on the frame of the car, it did just what he'd expected, it settled directly onto its side, a good two foot drop and it jarred them both when it finally landed. Sam had something to hold onto to brace himself, but G was forced to ride it out.

His stifled grunt of pain made Sam's heart beat faster.

"G, you still with me?" he asked as he balanced, releasing his grip on the handle slowly, waiting to see if the car would move further, despite the fact that the passenger side window was now filled with grass and dirt.

"I think I've had enough of the amusement park rides," his partner grunted, his breathing sharp.

As soon as Sam was convinced the car wasn't going to move again, he crouched. It was made easier because he could now literally stand on the ground – both feet where the glass of the passenger side window should have been. G was still laying on his side, now in an almost fetal position, his head resting against the door frame, his body lying on the door itself.

It was a tight squeeze for a big guy like Sam to be crouching where he was, and he was most definitely in Callen's personal space.

It was almost completely dark in the car by then, and Sam fought with the glove box until he could get it open, careful to avoid hitting G's legs in the process. After a few seconds searching, his hand closed over G's Sig and then he found the distinctive round shaft of the flashlight he kept in there. He pulled both items out, and knowing it would give G comfort, he pressed the gun down into his partner's hands.

Callen didn't say anything, but he grunted in thanks. Sam twisted until the Maglite sprang to life.

Both he and Callen squinted for a moment or two as their eyes adjusted to the new light.

"You look like hell," G said before Sam had the chance to say the same thing. The former SEAL smiled ruefully.

"Look who's talking."

It took just a few seconds for Sam to realize that G was more than a little banged up. The blood that was sheeting his face had come from a nasty laceration on the side of G's head – and from the way the area was swollen, it was also clear that his concussion diagnosis was correct. As he'd seen before, his partner's face and forearms were covered in tiny lacerations from the shattered glass. The way G was lying, it looked as if his shoulder might also have been dislocated, but Sam was reluctant to move him to find out just yet. The light from the flash light tracked down to Callen's right leg. Blood saturated his jeans, but it looked to be drying, which was a good sign that the wound was only bleeding sluggishly now – and Sam could see no exit wound, which was good, otherwise Callen might have had a gunshot wound in both legs.

"First aid kit is in the trunk," he said in frustration.

"You think I need a first aid kit?" Callen joked.

"What you need is a doctor and a hospital, G," Sam said sternly.

"Look who's talking," G said, mimicking Sam's comment from earlier. In the light from the flashlight, G was carefully scrutinizing Sam for injuries now that he was up close.

"Cracked or broken ribs and a bad headache," Sam told his partner. He'd learned in the SEALs that you hid no injury from your team – or you were putting their lives at risk. Slowly, he'd been bringing Callen around to see that side of things, but it was still a work in progress.

"I think my arm's broken," G replied, trying to match Sam's honesty. Sam smiled in appreciation.

"And you have a concussion and you've been shot," Sam added.

"Thought we already talked about those things," G said dryly. Sam nodded. "We need to…get out of here. Get help."

"That's not going to be easy G – I don't know if you didn't notice – but the only way out is through the front window. I'm not sure you're in any shape to…"

G's stare silenced him.

"Ok, ok…we'll work on it. But first I need to stop the bleeding in your leg." Sam's tone of voice said there was no arguing this matter.

G nodded slightly and winced.

Sam looked around, wondering just what he could use to bind Callen's leg with. After a long few minutes, he saw G's duffel bag wedged in the back seat, and he carefully stood as far as the car would allow him, trying to get the bag without falling on G. Finally, he managed to get his hands on it, and opened it to see what was inside. He was pleased to find a t-shirt and pulled it out.

"Not that one Sam…I love that shirt."

"I'm pretty sure Hetty told you never to wear this anywhere near the office ever again. Something about it being contaminated?"

"She said it was filthy," G corrected, and Sam noted that his speech was starting to slur again.

"It's all we've got G – I'll buy you a new one," he promised.

G leveled his gaze, but finally blinked in what Sam hoped was his approval. Sam quickly ripped it into strips and then paused.

"This is going to hurt," he warned his partner. G gave a slight nod and Sam unfastened the seat belt, and G groaned softly. Sam hadn't thought to check and see if G's ribs had been hurt by the seatbelt like his had. G closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I have to roll you over," Sam warned. G opened his eyes briefly.

"Ok. Trust you," he told Sam tiredly. Sam nodded, his gut clenching. It wasn't going to be easy to get G on his back in the confined space, especially crouching right over him, but he didn't have much of a choice.

It would be something Sam would remember for a long time – how awkward and painful the whole process was. G's eyes were closed tightly, pain lines running through his face as he used his left hand to try to brace his right arm even as Sam moved him. When G let out a short cry of pain, Sam flinched. His partner was breathing heavily, trying to control the pain he was feeling.

When Sam put his hand under G's right knee to lift the injured leg, it proved too much, and G's head dipped to one side, the pain driving him over the edge. For a moment, Sam watched him, ascertaining that he had just passed out. Regretfully, he realized it was probably for the best and carefully examined his partner's leg.

The bullet had entered just above the knee, in the side and was embedded in muscle, but it was hard to tell if it had hit the bone. It was oozing slowly – dark red – so Sam wrapped it tightly to stem the bleeding. He wished he could cut the fabric away and properly dress the wound, but that was impossible.

When he was finally done, the silence was overwhelming. Only the short, soft breathing coming from G assured him that the other man was alive.

"We're going to get out of here G – just hang on."