Face of Obedience

Summary: A 15-yr-old shows up at NCIS Headquarters to warn Sam that G is about to be gunned down at his new apartment.No pairings.

Notes: I don't own NCIS: LA. If I did, then G would know what his name is.

CHAPTER 1 – A Random, Early Morning

6:35 A.M.

Special Agent Sam Hanna yawned quietly into his hand as he walked across the NCIS Headquarters dawn-lit floor towards the freshly made coffee. He was tired from having woken even earlier than normal to get to work long before Hetty, the Queen of the entire office and expert at early mornings, got there. She had asked pointedly for Sam's overdue expense report the night before. Sam had promised to get it in the next morning, to which Hetty and raised an eyebrow to and responded, "I will expect it at eight a. m. sharp, Mr. Hanna."

Sam poured his coffee slowly, being sure to not create a mess this early. There was something extremely wrong about spilling things at six-thirty that shouldn't be spilt prior to seven in the morning. Maybe it's a Navy SEAL thing. Sam half-smiled to himself, the right side of his mouth curving up. G was rubbing off on him for him to think that at himself so early. Sam nearly laughed. And it was never a good thing to be thinking about his Agent partner of three-and-a-half years this early, either. When had it even become a possibility? Sam sipped his hot coffee, enjoying the robust taste. It was manly coffee, for sure. It should be, since he had made it himself… while being barely coherent at six-fifteen. A SEAL thing- it had to be, G would argue. The coffee and the spilling thing. His thoughts mulling over his partner stopped on the one event that changed Sam from being a normal partner to a protective one.

A protective partner. He knew that if he thought about it long enough, he would be able to hear the gunshots and G's shallow breathing as he yelled at him to stay with him. Time heals these things, Nate had assured him, but Sam didn't bet on it. He would still feel a rush of extra adrenaline in every gunfight they'd face, specifically there for protecting G- without G knowing it. Sam fought hard to keep it from becoming too obvious in the field. Special Agent in Charge G Callen would be quite annoyed if he ever realized how hard Sam worked to be sure he didn't get hurt. Sam stubbornly wished that G wouldn't ever get hurt again. The same wish. Over and over. But not possible, Hanna. Sam chided himself lightly. Nate had already made sure that Sam was extremely aware of the fact. It wasn't possible. It wasn't. Then again, Navy SEALs were known for making things that were impossible, possible. He assumed that was why he never quit trying. Sam sighed quietly, staring at the cement floor. G was such a magnet for trouble anyway, sometimes Sam wanted to throw his hands up in the air and walk away. It was ridiculous. In the field it was always a toss up. G's survival skills had come a long way, but he wasn't perfect. Wasn't invincible, no matter what G thought of himself.

Sam returned to his desk. It was covered with several yellow and white files. He sipped his coffee again. Forget G. He was looking at the last half of a mountain of paperwork that was such a monstrosity that it didn't leave much room for anything else in his brain. He sighed again, this time sounding annoyed to himself. Paperwork was how Hetty kept them in line, he was sure of it. Just like laps and pushups for Navy SEALs. For some reason, though, now the laps and pushups sounded better than the paperwork. Sam sat and applied himself to the stack again, feeling a renewed life come over him with the caffeine in the coffee. He worked for another ten minutes without stopping.

A few people trickled in, arriving early, probably to stay on Hetty Lange's good side. None of the basic team, however. When either G, Kensi, Nate, or Eric arrived, they were sure to see why Sam was up so early and what he was up to.

Ten more minutes of paperwork.

Soft footsteps came near him. They were a strange cross between the sound of Hetty's footsteps and Kensi's footsteps. Sam looked up, curious to see who the steps belonged to.

Five feet away from his desk was a brunette teenage girl, probably the age of thirteen or fourteen. She stood looking completely out-of-place, but certain in posture. She wore a white long-sleeved hoodie under a raspberry-pink t-shirt that boasted white cherry blossoms, matched with dark, denim jeans and raspberry-pink canvas shoes. Her white book bag was clean and hung on her left shoulder. She was harmless looking. She was staring at him, almost looking like she wanted to speak to him. Sam was a bit shocked. Since when had this girl been allowed in? Thinking through the NCIS employees, he didn't recall any of them having a young, teenage daughter. Or sister. Besides, it was forbidden to ever allow family to know where the Headquarters was located. Too dangerous.

Sam finally said what he was thinking beneath his initial thoughts of the girl: "Who are you?"

The girl asked back, "Are you… Sam?" Her voice was a strange teenager pitch, not too low, but not high-pitched, child-voice, either.

Not sensing any danger, Sam nodded. Thinking that perhaps this girl was, in fact, an employee's daughter, and she held a message for him, he asked, "Have we met?"

The girl shook her head once negatively. "No… uh… I'm supposed to tell you something."

Now Sam could tell the girl was nervous. And he was right; she did have a message for him. Probably someone who was out sick sent the girl because she was on her way to a nearby school. He smiled, trying to calm her, and stood and came around his desk to her.

"Okay. Tell me what you need to."

Dr. Nate Getz, Team Psychologist, came up behind them, finally arriving for the day. He paused when he saw the girl and Sam looking intently at each other.

The girl shifted a bit and said a bit rushed, "I'm supposed to tell you that G is about to be shot… in a drive-by, I think."

Sam's blood iced over in her words, disbelief, fear, and all sorts of other emotions pounding through him. He stared at her for a second, being sure that he had heard what he had just heard.

Nate came closer to them, looking worried.

Sam finally asked her darkly, "Who told you? Who told you to tell me that?"

The girl stared at him, surprisingly solidly. "God."

Sam straightened and met eyes briefly with Nate. His mind raced through possibilities of this being truth or a lie. Nate was clearly thinking similar things. Sam was about to ask her the same question again, hoping she would show that this was some sort of game, but she interrupted.

"Mr. Sam, do you believe in God?"

Sam answered quickly, "Of course."

The girl said softly, "Mr. Sam, please believe me. I didn't know your name until this morning. I have no idea where I am or what this place is. I don't even know what a G is!" The girl swallowed and then said firmly, "I gave you the message. Do what you need to. I promise I won't go anywhere until you are ready for me to leave." She moved her hands to hug herself. Waiting on him to decide whether to believe her or not.

Nate looked from the girl to Sam. He asked Sam quietly, "Where is G?"

Sam looked at him and began to take his cell phone out of his pocket. "Not here." He said lowly. Sam dialed G's number. He stared at the girl as the phone rang. The girl watched him with dark brown eyes. One ring. Two rings. Three times. Four times. Five times. The standard message answered. Sam ended the call. He met Nate's eyes.

Nate shook his head once, indicated that he wasn't sure if the girl was telling the truth or not.

Sam had a small flashback of the tires screeching, gunshots ringing out, G's shallow breaths, the yelling… He couldn't take a chance, no matter how absurd or crazy. He moved to grab his jacket, and said to the girl who watched him intently. "Girl, you better be telling the truth, or we're going to have a come to Jesus session when I get back."

The girl's eyes widened. She nodded once, showing she understood perfectly.

"Watch her." Sam told Nate as he headed for the door. "And get Eric to activate G's cell and vehicle GPS the second he gets here!" Sam rushed to his car, a 2010 black Challenger RT. The adrenaline was already pounding in his veins. Please be lying. Sam thought at the girl.