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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Title: Trojka

Rating: M

WARNINGS: Slash: G/Sam; Squick: M-Preg G Callen; Whump: G Callen

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.

Baby Benjamin

Chapter 3

Hetty entered her former home and settled down in the living room waiting for her lead agent to join her.

G rode the staircase's handrail down the stairs and almost landed on his butt. His normally accurate acrobats faltered this time. He strode into the living room and stopped short of sitting on the sofa. "Hetty." He chose to stand across the room from her position on the dark teal sofa.

"Mr. Callen, we need to talk."

He released a long sigh and sat on a dark teal blue recliner which matched the sofa.

"I need to know if you are okay."

"I'm tired of people asking me that question."

"You mean you are tired of your husband and partner asking you that question."

"Yes."

"He's concerned about your—"

"Stuff it, Hetty!" G shot off his chair and paced the living room. He only paced when everything else failed to calm him. After trying to quell his worries for several hours upstairs, G paced the master bedroom for at least an hour. The pacing started with the first pregnancy and continued on every pregnancy since.

"Mr. Callen."

"You don't understand, he doesn't understand, no one understands."

"Have you attempted to explain the situation to Sam?"

"I don't want to go there."

"Perhaps professional—"

He stopped and faced her. "His suggestion too." Afterward, he paced the living room again.

"I think it might be necessary," Hetty said, standing and straightening out her cream colored suit jacket. "I have just the person for you to see."

"And what if… never mind."

"What if what?"

"I'm afraid to talk about this."

"Similar to what happened with Mr. Beale earlier today."

"Yes." G blasted his lead tech and for all the wrong reasons. He needed to apologize but that would have to wait until his mind was straightened out.

"I'll schedule an appointment for you ASAP with an NCIS psychiatrist."

Shit! She spoke that damnable word he hated to hear.

"For tonight, Mr. Deeks and Ms. Blye shall take care of your children."

"That's not—"

"I insist and tomorrow night if necessary, I shall step up to the challenge again."

"Hetty, I…"

"You need a break and if I have to give you an order believe me I will." She strolled toward the front door. "Sam is on his way home. Rest and tomorrow I'll have that appointment scheduled for you." Hetty opened the front door and faced her lead agent. "Temporarily, I want you off this case."

"Hetty, I need answers and this may be the only way to—"

"Do you want me to suspend you?"

G stopped pacing the living room. "You'd suspend me over this?"

"I would if necessary to keep you off the case."

"Hetty, that's…" He failed to find the words. I hate when she presses her point with threats.

Sam strode through the front doorway with groceries in both arms and placed the bags on the gold-speckled, granite kitchen countertop. "Don't ask me to help you get your way, G, I agree with Hetty 100 percent."

"Then I'm screwed."

"That comes later tonight." Sam winked at him.

"You'd had to say that in front of Hetty." He felt the heat rise to his face.

"Yes, I had to say something to break the seriousness of this conversation."

"I'll leave you two to sort this out, and I'll call you in the morning with your appointment." Hetty exited the house.

Sam brought more groceries into the kitchen. G joined his husband and helped put them away. After they finished their chore, Sam surrounded his husband's waist with both arms and drew him back against his body.

"I missed you after you left," G said, turning his face to meet Sam's. He passionately kissed him.

"I think we need to take this upstairs."

"Down here on the sofa."

"You like the sofa more than the bed."

He lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. "I trashed the room."

Sam released him and flipped G around to face him. "You what?"

G stared at the blond-stained, oak hardwood floor between them. "I trashed it."

"Why?" He placed his hand under his partner's chin and gently lifted it until their eyes met.

He swallowed hard and gazed into his husband's dark eyes, his lips trembling. "Sorry, I lost it."

Sam tenderly kissed his partner's lips and surrounded his upper back with both arms.

"I'll fix it."

"You angry with me?"

"I guess," he said, "you left me here all alone and I… needed you… damn it." He lowered his gaze to the floor between them.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

"Can't," G said. "Feel bad. Couldn't help it. Glad the kids weren't here." He sighed.

"Let's go fix it together and make love."

G jerked away from him and rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Sam raced after him stopping in the master bedroom's doorway, his jaw agape. In the far corner, his husband curled into a fetal position and rocked himself. A blood-curdling, high pitched keening pierced the air.

Sam autodialed Hetty and informed her of the situation.

He stepped into the room and saw the complete chaos around him.

The bedding was balled up at the head of bed. All the pillows were shredded into a multitude of pieces. Every family photograph was removed from walls, dismantled, and the pictures shredded in a pile on the bed. The only photograph left on the wall was Baby Benjamin's picture. The frame hung askew twisted to the left. Blood surrounded and dripped from the picture frame. Tears welled up in Sam's cognac brown eyes. He approached his husband and sat cross-legged before him, drawing the love of his life into his arms and lap. Sam cradled and rocked him as he would one of his children.

Several hours passed before Sam heard movement downstairs. After an hour of rocking, the keening subsided and G had fallen asleep in his lap. Hetty and a man entered the master bedroom. The man carried a black, leather doctor's bag. Sam ascertained this man was the psychiatrist G would be seeing tomorrow. The man signaled for Sam to continue holding his husband and partner. Before G knew what had happened he was injected with a tranquilizer.

He cried out. "The baby, no, Sam, the baby, where's my baby…."

"Easy, sweetheart," Sam said, rocking him again.

"The drug has been approved by Dr. Daniels," the psychiatrist said. "When it takes full effect, Dr. Daniels wants him hospitalized."

"No! Sam! Don't let them take him from me."

"Easy, G." He rocked him some more trying to calm him. "No one is going to take the baby from you."

"You promise me, you better promise me."

"I promise you." Sam drew his husband's face closer to his and tenderly kissed him. "I will fight them, I promise."

G snuggled into his husband's lap and chest, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. "Sorry, can't help myself, sorry."

"No need to apologize, sweetheart." Sam cradled G in both arms and rocked him.

NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA

Sam settled into the closest chair to his sleeping husband. He fought the urge to cuddle up with him. Both doctors insisted on sedating and restraining G due to his destructive behavior. When his husband awakened the scene was not going to be pleasant. Sam readied himself for what was coming. He willed his thoughts and emotions to calmness several times in the last couple of hours. None of his famous techniques worked to quell the growing tension within him. He watched his husband stir and tug on his restraints.

G opened his eyes and wrenched on his arms again and wondered why they failed to move. He raised his head and saw the reason, hard restraints held both his arms and his chest against the bed. "What the hell is this?"

"Doctor's orders."

"What kind of doctor orders this for a pregnant… man… I don't get it… why… tell me why… please…." Tears streamed down his face.

"Easy, sweetheart." Sam stood and reached out to touch him.

"Don't you dare touch me asshole!"

"What?"

"You let them drug me," G said. "Where's my baby? I want to see the baby right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Damn it, don't you dare lie to me!"

"You need to calm—"

"Calm down and let you and the doctors take my baby," G said. "Show me my baby, now!"

"Easy."

"Easy?" He shot his husband a look.

Sam exited the obstetrics intensive care cubicle and rushed over to the nurses' station. "We've got a serious problem," he said. "I need to speak with both doctors. Immediately."

The charge nurse called the two doctors. "It will be a few minutes."

"Better be less, something is horribly wrong with my husband."

"What seems to be the problem?"

"He's hallucinating." Sam reentered the intensive care cubicle with the nurse following him.

"Where's my baby?" G asked the moment he saw his partner.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, I do." The charge nurse left the hospital room with Sam following her. The two doctors arrived and all four of them met down the hall in a private nurses' lounge. "Why don't you tell the doctors what you observed?" She eyed Sam.

"He's asked for his baby several times and I think he means Baby Benjamin not the new baby."

The psychiatrist spoke first. "By the way, I'm Dr. Fitz," he said. "I believe your husband is suffering from prolonged or protracted grief brought on by the first pregnancy, his current pregnancy, and your current case."

"What?" Sam asked. "How is this possible? We both attended the required therapeutic sessions for grieving the loss of our baby."

"For some reason, the grief got triggered again," Dr. Fitz said. "In addition, he's experienced several psychotic episodes."

"Psychotic episodes?" Sam's jaw dropped open.

"The one I saw in your home and now this and I believe you described another with a member of your team."

"Yes." Sam sighed. "What now?"

"He'll need therapy to unravel the cause of the psychotic episodes."

"He's not going to like this."

"Nicky!" A nurse poked her head around the corner into the lounge. "Code green on Mr. Mercurial."

"Code Green?" Dr. Daniels asked.

"Psychosis." Nicky heard her patient screaming the moment she stepped out into the hallway. She rushed out of the lounge and down the hall to her patient's room. "Get Dr. Fitz and ask him what we can give him. Hurry." Nicky entered the cubicle and calmly came up to the bedside. "Calm yourself, everything is fine."

"The hell it is. My baby is gone. I don't feel my baby kicking. Where did you put him? Tell me right now!"

"Easy, G," Sam said, coming along side the charge nurse.

"You promised nothing would happen to the baby and now… he's gone… no kicking… and I'm going to go crazy." G squirmed his lower torso around in the bed and kicked his legs.

"You would not be able to feel our baby kicking."

"What?" G glanced at him sideways.

"You are only a month to six weeks into the pregnancy."

"You are a damned liar."

"I have no reason to lie to you."

"You are humoring me."

"I would never do that."

"Placating me?"

"Nope."

"Crap, that means I'm losing it." Tears streamed down his face again. "I can't stand this." G watched the new doctor enter the cubicle. "You have my baby?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Mr. M," he said. "I'm your new doctor, Dr. Fitz."

"The shrink, right?"

"Yes."

"Crap." I just told this guy I am nuts. "Any way I can get these off me?" G pulled on his hard restraints.

"Possibly after we have a talk."

Damn. "I want my husband to stay with me."

"That's fine." Dr. Fitz pulled up another chair and sat down with a pad of paper and a pen in his left hand.

To G the man had the appearance of a shrink; a tall, geeky nerd look. He easily picked out a shrink in room full of doctors. It was his fear, no it was real phobia, about having his brain picked to pieces by a stranger which caused his hypervigilance behavior toward shrinks. G believed no one should be allowed inside someone else's brain except the person who resided inside the body owned by the brain. Even Nate's gentle nature failed to quell his fears about shrinks.

"Perhaps you could tell me when these feelings first arose about your baby."

Direct. Scary. "I… it's too personal."

"Therapy usually is, why don't we go back to the mandatory classes you and your husband took after the loss of Baby Benjamin."

This is worse. This guy wants to know what happened when I took that class. Sam does not even know what happened when I took that class. Shit. "I don't know if I am ready to talk about that."

"When did the class occur?"

G shuddered. This guy was too good. "Six years ago."

"And you are not ready to talk about a class which occurred six years ago?" Dr. Fitz asked. "Did you begin to grieve the loss of your son six years ago?"

G's lower lip trembled and he zeroed in the wall-mounted LCD TV on the wall opposite him. "I… crap… probably not."

"Probably not?"

"Okay, no, I didn't, I couldn't, I wasn't ready."

"Why didn't you tell me, G?"

"I… it's complicated."

"We attended a year long session and not once during the entire time did you tell me this."

G sighed. "I know and I'm sorry."

"Is that why you wanted to name our boy, Benjamin?"

He avoided his partner's scrutinizing eyes and his question.

"G?"

His lip trembled again. "I can't stop thinking about him." G stared at the window and starless darkened night sky. "You didn't carry him inside your body. You don't know what it was like to wake up and find your son ripped from your body and missing." Tears flowed down his face. "And you promised me nothing would happen and… crap… I can't talk about this any more. I'm done."

"I told you I couldn't promise you anything."

"You promised me, I heard you."

"This time, G, I promised to not let them take our baby."

"Shit, I'm losing it, I'm really losing it and going crazy," he said, now staring at the restraints on his arms and chest. "I thought that was then not now."

"It is common for those with severe prolonged grief to lose a sense of time," Dr. Fitz said.

"And you think mine is severe?"

"Yes, due to your current circumstances and your previous loss."

"Just great, this is not what I needed to hear right now."

"There is some medication I'd like to try on you—"

"Not if it will hurt my baby."

"I've already run it by Dr. Daniels and he confirmed it is used with psychosis during pregnancy."

"Psychosis during pregnancy?"

"Yes, it can and does happen," Dr. Fitz said. "A minimal dose should work in your situation and with little hypnotic affect on the baby."

"What's that mean?"

"It causes sedation and is more prevalent during first trimester."

"I'm in the first trimester, so no way are you going to give me that drug, I want my baby to be normal."

"We'll wait until the second trimester which I understand starts on the third month for you," he said. "Possibly by then you won't need it."

"You mean if I allow you to pick my brain apart before then."

"Let's get these restraints off you," the doctor said.

"Thank you." G was thankful to get the restraints off but that did not mean that this doctor was off the hook for putting him in them. He seethed inside as he recalled the injection Dr. Fitz had given him in the safety of his own home.

NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA

G settled down on a comfortable, chocolate brown, leather sofa with his husband by his side. Across the room, Dr. Fitz sat in a matching high-backed chair with a notebook and pen in his left hand. He surmised his shrink was left handed. The sparsely decorated office reminded G of his first home before Sam and him began their intimate relationship. Drab toned tan walls. A light-stained oak desk took up one wall and the doctor's credentials covered the wall behind the oversized desk. Matching chocolate brown drapes framed the two, nearly floor to ceiling windows. As usual, G studied the contents of the room more than he observed the room's owner. He was disappointed; not much to study this time. Perhaps his shrink was much like himself, wanting to keep others at an arm's length.

"Gentlemen, shall we begin our first formal session?"

G kept his eyes averted from the doctor's watchful ones. He felt as if he were a lab rat in an unauthorized experiment.

"Let me repeat the grounds rules, under no circumstances are you allowed to leave the session without my permission."

"I know, you don't need to repeat that again." G sighed. "Or you'll slap me back in the hospital and in full body restraints this time." Just the thought of his entire body strapped to a bed anywhere sent chills up his spine. "I'll remind you, that I'm a federal agent not your lab experiment."

"Mr. Callen, this isn't about treating you as if you are a lab experiment."

"I feel as if it is." He stared out the window at the noon day, busy Los Angeles, street corner.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

The shrink was not sorry he drugged me and slapped me into a hospital against my will.

"Mr. Callen, we need to focus on what occurred six years ago in your mandatory grief counseling course."

G sighed. This shrink was right to the point, no mincing words, no avoiding the inevitable, and no escaping from reality. He loathed it and yet respected it. G disliked evasiveness in anyone else but frequently engaged in it himself and even more within the last six years. A major portion of his job required expertise in evasiveness. For six years, he channeled his innate talent onto the loss of his baby and into his marriage without even thinking about it. "Nothing occurred."

"And you failed to share your inability to grieve the loss of your son with your husband."

"Yes."

The psychiatrist sighed. "Please elaborate."

Elaborate. Explain. Reiterate. None of which G felt were possible when it came to talking about… him. "I… what am I supposed to say?" He brought his focus down to his lap and held back the tears which threatened to well up in his cerulean blue eyes. G swallowed hard and attempted to control the timbre in his voice. His quavering and breaking voice, a harbinger of what was to come. Collapse. Disintegration. Meltdown. The timbre of his voice threatened to expose the thin veneer of his stoic, controlled outer self. "I lost… a part… of me." He shut it down again with close to a whisper. His voice quavered more than he had planned.

Sam reached over and grasped his husband's right hand and drew it onto his lap.

Damn it. That one gesture sent him over the edge. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over his thick, long, dark blond eyelashes, splashing down onto his blue jeans and painting them with darker blue splotches. "I can't… please stop this."

"Stop what, sweetheart?"

He wiped the tears from his face with the sleeve of his aqua blue, long sleeve t-shirt. "I can't talk about… this." G feared the more he shared, the faster his thin veneer would crumble into an infinite number of pieces.

"This is precisely what you need to talk about." Dr. Fitz stood and crossed the room to the door. "I'll leave you two to sort this out. I'll see you next week, Mr. Callen."

G watched his psychiatrist leave and kept his eyes upon the now shut door.

"Sweetheart, I'm here." Sam snuggled closer to his partner and husband.

"Please…" More tears cascaded over his eyelashes. "He… I… can't… I don't want to fall apart."

"I know."

"You don't know. He wasn't inside you. You don't understand."

"I do understand, let it go, G, stop holding on and let it go." He drew his partner closer into his side. "I'm here. It's safe. I love you."

"Afraid to let go." More tears splashed down his cheeks transforming spots on his light aqua t-shirt into dark teal blotches. He grasped Sam's fingers interlacing his fingers between them. "My baby… I… he's gone… I woke up and he was gone… I felt for him… only tape remained… he… damn… was… gone…. I can't do this again. I won't." He finished the last two sentences quick trying to shut it down again.

"Easy, G, what are you talking about?"

"This experiment… the drug they switched and used on me again," G said. "What if something happens to my baby… our baby? I can't, no, won't go through this again."

"If Dr. Daniels thought there was a problem he'd tell you."

He jerked away from his husband and stood. "There's a problem all right, I'm pregnant again and this wasn't planned, and I'm losing my mind over it."

"What?" Sam cocked his head sideways. "You said you wanted another baby."

"Not like this." He sighed. "Not as a result of someone's foul play. Not as the result of another experiment." G strode over to the window closest to him. "I can't do this right now and grieve the loss of… damn it… I can't even say his name without feeling as if I'm going to lose it." He stuffed his feelings deep down inside.

Sam came along side his husband. "I'm here with you every step of the way."

"And that is supposed to help how?"

He wrapped an arm around G's waist. "Remember, I began this grieving before you and I know what it is like."

"Great." He jerked away again and crossed his arms. "You know what it was like for you. The problem is you didn't carry him within you."

"I know, sweetheart."

"And that is supposed to stop me from getting angry with you."

"If you are angry with me, let me have it."

"You sure you want my wrath?"

"Give it to me," Sam said, "I want everything you've got. I can take it."

G faced his husband and partner, uncrossed his arms and clenched and unclenched his teeth. "You bastard!" He stepped to within inches of him pointing his finger in Sam's face. "You signed that damned surgery consent form and helped them take him from me. Screw you! All I wanted to do was gaze into his eyes as he fed at my breasts… damn these useless pieces of flesh… my breasts… fuck these globs of fat!" G pounded on his chest. "I hate these… what they represent and what I missed because of your selfish need to see me live and my… damn it… you didn't give a shit whether he lived or died. Did you asshole? NO! You just wanted me to live, and that's all you cared about. I wanted him and you wanted me. Fuck this and fuck everything!" G flipped on his heels and strode across the room to the other window. "I hate this whole thing. I wanted him… crap, why can't I just say his name. Screw this!" He strode toward the door.

Sam met him halfway across the room and grasped his husband's left arm. "Finish it."

G flipped on his heels and faced him. "You really want me to go there?"

"Yes, finish it, or I will."

"Bastard!" G slugged his partner in the chest with both fists, his face contorting and twisting from a mien of anger to one of pure agony. "Why did you do that?" He asked, tears welling up in his eyes again. "I wanted him. He was my baby. My baby! You damned bastard. I hate you!" He collapsed to the carpet in a heap yowling and curling into a tight fetal position.

Sam settled behind his husband drawing the younger bawling man against his body. "That's it, sweetheart, let it go." He stroked his husband's face.

G ululated while his body quaked and shook, tears flowing steadily down his face. "My baby, my Baby Benjamin, I wanted my Baby Benjamin…. Baby Benjamin."

Thanks for reading my story. More to come soon...