N/A: Still there? thank you, really! :)

Chapter 12

Alone in the dark of the cargo ship container, with the fever and the pain rising, all the ghosts he was able to keep at bay during the day came to pay G a visit.

The day had been exhausting and he was getting worried about his deteriorating health. That morning from the station he went to the local bazar. Just walking there was such a big effort that he nearly collapsed; he was too weak to get into the suffocating and crowded labyrinth of galleries and. Sat down near the entrance covered by the providential burka and desperate to figure out how to get what he needed in order to carry out his plan, the solution presented itself.

- "You're on my spot" – a boy said in Turkish.

- "Sorry?" – asked Callen in a low tone trying to mask his voice.

- "The spot, this is where I earn a living" – said impatiently the boy.

- "How old are you?"- inquired Callen

- "Eleven."

- "Are you alone?"

- "No, no my family is waiting for me"- The boy repeat a well learned lie the same way Callen did not so long ago.

- "Ok. Don't worry. I propose you a deal. I want to stay here, so I'm going to pay you for your spot."- He said showing discretely a bill for the sum that the boy could have gathered in a day of begging. When the boy lowered himself to pick the bill from Callen's hand, G quickly retired it. -"Listen, I'm going to give you this four your spot, but if you gave me a service you can double the money."- He added giving the money to the now reflective boy.

- "I don't do sex or drugs" – said the boy putting the money on his pocket.

- "I just need you to buy something for me in the bazar, I'm sure you can have very good prices and, as I don't feel like bargaining, you can keep the change. Of course you're free to go away with the money, but then you'll lose the opportunity to gain some more."- explained Callen.

- "All right, what should I buy?"- accepted the kid.

Under the burka Callen smiled.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kensis's moods had the quality of being contagious and now she was feeling scared, sad and lost, driving Deeks crazy. The poor guy tried without success to cheer her up with cheese burritos for breakfast, greasy donuts for lunch and Asian dumplings for dinner, while talking about every and anything. Nothing worked.

He helped her with the arduous chore of cleaning her desk stopping the invasion of Callen's table and, above all, with the frustrating task of revising again and again the images of the area in Cappadocia, where the agent could possibly hide, that each day, at the same hour, were captured by the satellites, and sent to Nell's server.

Every day after Kensi and Deeks's return, the team watched and analyzed together the images looking for any tiny clue of Callen's whereabouts, till the point that Eric named each member of a rabbits' family they saw in their den.

Deeks also worked secretly with Nell following the terrorist's movements, listening to interminable audio records translated by the SEALS that surveilled the criminal active groups in Turkey. If Callen had been captured or killed, probably the terrorists would talk about him. Nothing for now, but under any circumstances he would let Kensi or Eric or Sam to discover Callen's death on this way. Even if he was very fond of G, he knew him for less time than the others and he could help to prepare them for the bad news.

Damn stubborn Callen. He should have been with him rescuing Washington.

- "Mr. Deeks!– Called Hetty from her desk – "Could you please make your partner stop the vacuum cleaner? I'm on the phone with the Greek Premier Minister!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The street boy turned out to be a quick-witted, resolute and well-meaning rascal with bad chance in his short life. He helped Callen to gather all the supplies he needed and some nonperishable food helping himself with some more.

- "Last thing on your list. Now I want the money"- he demanded.

- "Here you go." – said Callen giving him more bills than they've agreed to before. –"A promise is a promise and it's good to be a person of word."

The boy's eyes shined at the sight of the money.

-"When I'll be rich I'll have a shop and I'll be honorable with my clients"- he said starting to walk away.

-"Hey!" – Called Callen standing up with difficulty – "If you work for me until this afternoon, you'll don't have to worry about how to get food in some days."

With the essential help of the boy who hailed a taxi to go to the port and persuaded a bored security guard that he'd seen an intruder on the other side of the deck, Callen took the now well assorted bag pack and gave the kid all the Turkish money he had left.

-"Your salary."- He said – "If, you know, just in case, I'll need your services again, how can I contact you?" – he asked.

- "Mesut Ahmet Kartal"- introduced himself the boy –"Kamir, the barber on the bazar let me stay on his shop at night. I chase the intruders away and I don't have to pay for a place to sleep."

- "Thank you Mesut Ahmet Kartal"- Callen said shaking hands.

- "Good luck, invisible man" – responded Mesut disappearing in the twilight.

Now, alone again, lying on a blanket on the container floor, G was feeling miserable. The bullet wound on his shoulder was killing him. Completely worn out he reckon that the intramuscular antibiotic wasn't enough to prevent the infection from spreading. He knew he should try to start an IV to in order to maintain his body hydrated, but just thinking on the needle was making him sicker. He was so tired…

Needles. This was his first conscientious childhood memory. He wasn't even five years old when he was brought to «Silver Oak Orphanage». One day one of the caretakers took him and another kid to the nursery; vaccines, they told them, for the kindergarten. I don't want you to do make a fuss she adverted.

-"What is a vaccine?"- G didn't understand why the other kid started to cry. Kindergarten was good; back at home he had bought new pencils and exercise books with his mom; mom … better to stop thinking in mom. They took the kid to another room and the only thing G could hear was his desperate cries. "What is happening?" Suddenly he understood: they were going to kill him! Since he arrived the only thing everybody seemed to agree to, was that he was a bad boy, another mouth to feed, a nuisance, a waste. The kid on the other room continued to cry, now feebly, and Callen started to panic. Then the door opened and a woman with a white coat grabbed him by the arm getting him into the room. The other kid wasn't there. He must be dead now, he thought. He tried to escape pushing his captor, but she was stronger and grasped him harder lifting him without effort and dropping him hard in a gurney, where a big man also in white coat tried to keep him down. He rolled, kicked, bitted, screamed, everything in vain, another person came and then another one and they pulled his pants out and swab his thighs with alcohol. Then he saw the needles. It wasn't another way to kill him? He renewed his efforts to free himself and the only thing he got was a hard slap on his cheek. A bite, a cry, another slap, just before he felt the sharp pain on his leg followed by a burning sensation, then another one, and another. He cried harder. He didn't want to die; he needed to get out there. He freed his leg just when another needle was piercing his skin.

- "Damn kid, he broke the needle!" – Another slap this time on his temple that made him dizzy- "Stop, you stupid, stop right now!"

- "Finish the shots first and let me take care of that" – one of them said.

They stabbed him three more times without any consideration. I hurt. Badly. Then the persons with the white coats released him. Feeling free he jumped from the gurney and crawled under a table, shaking, feeling sick. His leg was bleeding, the broken needle stuck there. He tried to take it off.

-"Don't!"- a white coat cried. "Let me do it, you're going to insert it even more and then we'll have to cut your leg off!" – he said terrifying G even more. The man got down in all fours and grabbed him by the ankle pinning the boy's leg under his. G hadn't more energy to fight and, even if he was scared to death when the man produced a soldering tweezers, he tried not to move. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Then the needle was out. More blood. The sharp stinging of the alcohol. That odor. Breath, breath, breath. A big plaster covering the wound. Then he vomited, and everything went black.

The nightmare started again two weeks after when he was transferred to «Trinity Orphan's house», his documents lost, and someone decided it was time to vaccinate him for kindergarten.

Callen woke up sweating. The boat was moving. He knew he'd done with sleeping for that night. Then, without thinking, he took the damn needle and put an IV on his left hand.