Reviews appreciated and welcomed

Title: Nowhere Man

Rating: M

Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs

Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: My stories are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. This is a work intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

Survival

Chapter 9

Sam took the bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator and started to prepare them. His partner's screams coming from the bathroom stopped him. Sam rushed down the hallway to the guest bathroom and found the door locked. Damn. He loathed the idea of invading his partner's privacy especially with the way he had acted with the loaded gun and his odd behavior. Sam removed his skeleton key set from his pants pocket and inserted it into the bathroom door's keyhole.

Sam was not prepared for what he saw yet he knew what needed to be done. As long as his partner was not physically injured, Sam determined it was time to take care of him the way he had been cared for during a traumatic moment in his life. The incident occurred years before G and him met for the first time and worked as partners. A Navy SEALS partner helped him recover. This present situation required something which might trigger his partner and yet it was necessary. Sam hoped his partner did not take anything the wrong way based on the last time he helped G after the rapes his chances were slim.

Sam noticed G's lack of awareness to his presence in the bathroom. That in itself was an ominous sign. He lifted his partner off the floor and undressed him making sure the clothes were kept separate from the laundry. They represented evidence of a crime committed by his partner. Afterward he settled G on the covered toilet seat and snapped several pictures of his blood spattered and flesh speckled face and neck and hair.

Sam stripped off his own clothes and brought G into the shower and allowed the water to run down his partner's body without washing him. With the past encounter with Serghei and the gang rape, Sam was not taking chances with evidence. If his partner confessed to another gang rape then Sam resolved to take him to the hospital. Yet G insisted that this was not his blood and Sam saw no evidence that it was. Enough evidence had splattered onto G's shirt and pants and the pictures of his partner's face, neck, and hair told the rest of the story. Not a good one.

After several minutes without G stirring from his semi-conscious state, Sam started to wash his partner's hair, face, and neck. He continued with a light washing of his partner's body and rinsed him. Sam brought G into the master bedroom and laid several towels on the bed. He settled G onto them and covered him with several more.

Upon seeing all of this up close, Sam concluded it was time to inform his operations manager of the situation. He paced the hallway outside the room trying to decide what to say, how much to reveal, and when to quit. A censored telephone call to his operations manager was not the best of plans for him, for G, or for their partnership. Damned either way. He autodialed her number and waited for her to speak first.

"Mr. Hanna, where in the blazes are you? You said a drive not a trip to the moon. I need you here at the boat house."

He wanted to laugh at her rant. If the situation with his partner had been less serious he might have, instead he smiled. "We've got a serious problem."

"We?" Hetty asked.

"Yes, with G."

"You found him?"

"Not exactly."

"Mr. Hanna."

He understood what that meant. Talk. Now. "I found G in the boat house when I arrived there this morning."

"And?"

"He's," he lowered his voice and walked further away from the master bedroom, "incapacitated at the moment."

"You are at your home?"

"Yes, Hetty." She had to read minds.

"I'm on my way as we speak."

"What about his father?"

"Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks are here and will continue the conversation with him."

He listened to his operations manager rev the motor on her sports car and the phone disconnected. G was in trouble now. Sam walked back down the hallway and entered his walk-in closet. He rummaged through his wife's sweats looking for a well worn set. After finding the perfect color, deep teal, for his partner, he returned to the bedroom.

NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA

"Bastard!" G was sitting on the bed facing Sam as he walked out of the closet.

"Let me explain—"

"Nothing. I'll let you explain nothing." G grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist and crossed the short distance between them taking the clothes from his partner's hands. G walked into the closet, closed the door, and dressed in the sweats. "Who's sweats?" He stared at the short length which looked more like capris than pants.

"Hers."

"What the hell!" G stomped out of the closet. "I hope you don't expect me to wear her high heeled shoes too."

"I should get you angry more often."

G shot him a look. "What?"

"Makes you speak more words."

"Screw you!"

"Okay, I know you are pissed about the shower—"

"Again, you did it again. How could you? Why? I trusted you. Screw you."

"Okay, I deserve it all."

"Every damned word of it."

"Yes, agreed." Sam sighed.

"I need to see those clothes and the gun and I'll be on my way."

"Fat chance."

"Fat chance for what?"

"Any of those requests, Mr. Callen." Hetty stood in the doorway to the master bedroom.

G shot his partner an evil look. "You didn't." His crossed his arms.

Sam crossed his arms. "I did."

"Mr. Callen, you and I need to have a fireside chat in the living room."

"A what?" He flipped on his heels to face her.

"I started the fire, let's go." She curled her finger motioning her lead agent to follow her down the hallway.

G acted as if he was going to obey her but made a side trip into the bathroom. "Where the hell is my gun?"

Sam stepped into the bathroom's doorway. "I told you, loaded weapons are not allowed in my house."

"The pants?"

"Confiscated for evidence."

G lowered his voice. "You are a dead man in this partnership."

"I heard that."

"Good, out of my way."

Sam stepped aside.

G plowed past his partner and down the hallway toward the living room and passed it continuing toward the front door.

"Mr. Callen."

"No, the answer is no."

"Shoes?" Sam asked bringing his partner a pair of slippers.

He reached for the doorknob. "Screw the damned shoes."

"If you walk out that door—"

"Here come the threats," G said. "Is that it? Threaten me with suspension unless I sit down and have a fireside chat with you."

"Not exactly, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, "I was going to say you won't have a chance to see your father later on today. With you back, there's no need for him to stay and help us find you."

"Oh." He muttered more to himself.

"And what about your bacon and eggs."

"Lost my appetite."

"My suggestion is to follow her orders, and I'll feed you breakfast."

"And forget about what you did to me in the damned bathroom?"

"You still harping on that?"

"Yes." His biggest problem with the bathroom, he blacked out after looking at himself in the mirror. G's memory failed him when he needed it the most. Well, except the other memory, the one he wanted to forget and could not. Make that two horrible memories he wanted to forget and could not. He shivered. "Can't talk about this."

"Then the pictures and the clothes will," Sam said. He laid out the clothes G had worn earlier on the living room coffee table for Hetty to see. Next he showed her the pictures on his camera.

G faced his partner and watched him. "What the hell?" He crossed the room and started to remove the clothes from the coffee table.

"Leave them, Mr. Callen."

"Why?"

"They are evidence."

"I… damn this…" Tear welled up in his eyes. He averted his gaze from both of them and backed away.

"G stop running from this."

"Can't do this. Can't."

Sam handed Hetty the camera and came along side his partner. "Come on into the kitchen and let me fix you breakfast."

"And she'll… arrest me?"

"What?" His eyebrows raised up. "Do you think I'm conspiring against you?"

G lower lip trembled. "I can't. Don't. Need to go. Not hungry." He crossed the room again and shoved his feet into the slippers by the front door. Tears steadily streamed down his face. G opened the front door and walked outside.

"Get him please."

"And do what with him, Hetty? Can't you see he's traumatized by whatever happened? He can't handle any questions beyond the simplest ones."

"Just bring him back in here. No questions asked. Feed him. Take care of him."

Sam walked outside and stood next to his partner on the front porch.

"I heard her."

"And?"

"After she leaves I'll come inside." G settled down on a bench beside the front walkway which faced Sam's quiet neighborhood.

Hetty paused by the bench and gazed in the same direction as her lead agent. "Anything you wish for me to convey to your father?"

"Can't right now."

"I'll tell him you look forward to spending time with him when this is all over."

"It will never be all over." G feared he had started another round of vengeance by the Baboescu family. Now he had the blood of two Baboescues on his hands, literally on his hands in the case of Serghei. And his face. And his neck. And his hair. Crap.

Hetty walked to her sports car.

G watched her leave. He stood and plodded toward the house. "I'm hungry," he said walking by his partner. He crossed the living room and stared at where his clothes had been. "Crap."

"She had to take them."

"To arrest me?" His lower lip trembled again.

"I don't think that is her intention." Sam spoke to him from the kitchen doorway.

G settled down on the sofa and stared at a speckle of human flesh which had fallen off his shirt. He cringed and flashed back to moment he decided to end it. Serghei approached him for sex. He started that sickeningly sweet talk. G gagged, literally, gagged. Serghei's body that close to him caused him to gag. Too close to him. His smell. An odor now unforgettable—a strong musky cologne mixed with sweat. He gagged again. Earlier G had picked the lock on his handcuffs with the bobby pin he kept hidden in the wristband of his watch. The moment Serghei touched him, G struck with a calculated and well planned force. He focused on the kill blocking out all other senses and needs and wants.

Kill.

Kill and survive or die to self, again.

He chose survival.

Thanks for reading.