A/N; Thank you to all who are following this randomness! I am really just having fun with the character- G is just so well written. I have been linking the theme of 'Home' loosely throughout, here it's about G's first unercover job, and the way he found a 'Home' for his talents. (Not too clunky I hope?) Let me know what you think, always enjoy hearing how this comes across. And again, thanks for reading. Abi.

Home CH-4

For too long
I was out on my own
Every day I spent trying to prove
I could make it alone
It was fun hanging onto the moon
Heading into the sun
But it's been too long
Now I want to come home

(I Want to Come) Home ~ Paul McCartney.

Don't struggle, don't offer resistance, stay down. Stay still; let the pain roll over you.

In his head he knew that taking this beating was part of the charade. It was a necessary sacrifice to purchase the information he came for. All this time he had been working his way towards this very moment. Strange as it may be… and thus was his life…. This beat down was the very reason he was here. Being beaten into this gang was the one thing that would guarantee their trust and his inclusion in their plans. The same plans he fully intended to derail. Just as soon as he was through taking a kicking!

One of the 2 N 2 Blackdog members had taken a special dislike to him. Callen was pretty certain it was the same vicious bastard who was currently trying to remold his kidneys. Blows to his torso and a few well placed upper cuts to his jaw had him reeling, and caused black spots to dance in front of his eyes. But it was the pummeling he was taking to his back that gave him the most cause for concern. If he was to finish his assignment he'd need to have the ability to stand.

His head might have just about got the hang of things, in his heart however he wanted to beat the living snot out of every one of these Boys in the Hood wannabe's. Callen had always had a problem with feigning vulnerability in this way. It probably had to do with one (or nine) too many freehanded Foster carers. All his young life he'd been at the mercy of someone else's disposition, drug of choice, bad day, or whim. That all changed on his fifteenth birthday when he'd stilled the falling fist and actually threw a punch of his own. Ok that had ended with a black eye and a busted lip, but it was the closest he had ever been to a draw in his life. He had to make this convincing because he no longer played to draw, he was playing to win.

This was his first deep cover job with the Narc squad. It suited him fine; his eternal dislike for staying still had him itching for a move anyway. As Chris McDermott, he was a loan out from a CIA task force that dabbled in Customs and export, but mostly zeroed in on drugs and human trafficking. He had seen his fair share of action at twenty five, and seen enough of the Law Enforcement to know both sides of the tracks fairly competently. Right now he had to cross those tracks in the hope of finding a weak link in the 2N2 organization. If he was successful he would have the snot kicked out of him and then take his place in the fold as a member. Problem was if they didn't want you in their club, these bastards would just keep going until the only place you'd be fit to take was a six by four hole in the ground. Callen was beginning to wonder and then he felt a rib crack.


"They are not buying it Dylan!"

Jamerson watched the small monitor in the mobile Tactical support vehicle currently masquerading as a drycleaners on wheels, or whatever weird and wonderful get up accommodated him, his five man swat team and their gear.

"Give the kid a chance Bill." Jamerson answered even as the sweat clearly rose on his balding head.

"A chance to what – gain the ability to fold in half and be stuffed into a suitcase? They've made him. He was too hesitant, or too young, or too straight…. Who the hell knows, but I am telling you…."

Bill Reid's tirade was halted and apparently proven in the same instant on the screen in front of them.

A side door squealed open to admit Harvell the gangs second in command and a struggling blonde girl a few years younger than Callen. Reid's face spoke volumes as the stooge they had used to gain Callen entrance, a bail jumper named Chastity Watts, was dragged into the room by her hair. The only word that issued from the veteran to his team was,


The Rookie had been made, and had approximately three minutes to live. Time to pull the plug.


"Set him up" Harvell commanded his accent crooning over the order and relishing his power.

Callen was roughly hauled up and bit his already bleeding lip to keep from crying out as his newly weakened ribcage protested at the angle they held him at.

"This skank says some interesting things 'bout you – Chris." The taller man emphasized his name nastily. "She says she never met you 'fore this week."

Callen tried not to glance at the .45 hanging lazily in the other man's hand as he fought with the heavily bleeding cut above his eye, to meet Harvell's menacingly calm gaze.

"H-how long since h-her l,l-ast h-hit …. Her own M-mother m,m,might well b-b-be Big B,bird to her t,t,then." Callen stammered, unsure how much of it was the act and how much the adrenaline surge.

"I say it smell like bacon in here yo." a particularly keyed up voice asserted

G spared the angry dark-haired tanned youth a glance, and sure enough it was the same guy who'd tried to remold his internal organs like play dough.

" M-mmann don't do this!" G's voice pleaded. "I came up thr-through Souttthhy jus l,like youse."

"Oh yeah cuz? Who'd you know that I'd know?" Play dough guy asked in a relaxed tone that was at odds with the way he pointed his gun at G's prone head and released the safety.

G's mind raced. Street Math told him he had about a minute to live. His heart pounded but he felt the blood course through his body energizing his will to survive. He fought his way to a more upright position biting back a groan at the white hot pain that lanced through his chest. This was not going down like this; he'd fought too damn hard to bow out this way. He was good at his job, he was better than this.

Smiling cockily and exposing his bloodied mouth he answered. "Your Mamma!" and proceeded to spit blood over the disgusted looking man's pristine white loafers.

A howl of laughter choked off the oncoming storm in the gangbangers eyes, Harvell actually snorted as he gasped out.

"Leave him Tinchy … man those shoes were whack anyways. You new boy, take the Bitch out and put her down. Tinchy will help you – jus in case you can't finish what you started."

G glanced at the huge terrified eyes of their informant looking every inch the pigeon. She was shaking her head and babbling to herself. He tried to catch her gaze and will her to shut the hell up, but it didn't work.


Reid slung a hand out halting the two agents nearest him when he heard the order to abort from Jamerson.

"Repeat?" he growled quietly into his comlink.

"Confirm, Stand down…. The kid's got this one Bill. Maintain presence."

Reid snorted Jamerson was so focused on results and shutting up the Press and the higher ups he'd call loosing newbie and getting Harvell and the Dogs for his murder, a result. He shook his head in disgust. Kid had picked the wrong frigging time to learn the ropes!


G watched in horror as his comeback took a pretty significant downward turn. He'd grabbed the wittering Miss Watts and repeatedly tried to catch her hazy, pie high eyes, to reassure her that he meant her no harm; he would get them both out of this- somehow! Chastity had other ideas. She began to struggle against the moderate pressure of his grasp. The rest of the gang began to laugh and pass rude remarks about his ability with women. He ignored their taunts of "Hold yo hoe there boy!" and gave her a shake as he saw that Harvell had begun to watch his actions more closely with every passing second that the girl lived. As the second in command he was only used to being ignored by Conrad; the Gangs leader. G had to get them both the hell out of here, where the hell was the back up? Surely they didn't expect him to protect his cover by executing a strung out crack whore? His eyes softened a little as he looked down at the trembling girl who'd begun to cry. Besides, she'd chosen her own downfall.

The gun shot split the air and jerked him violently out of his thoughts. Her blood sprayed upwards onto him. Pumping hot liquid caught him in the face and entered his mouth, which seemed to have fallen open in shock even as the room erupted in laughter from the gang closely followed by the splintered entrance of the S.W.A.T team. He didn't register the screams of the agents round him to disarm or suffer the consequences. He didn't feel Bill Reid place a hand on his shoulder as another faceless man pried his death grip on the dead hooker open. He only tuned in when Reid drew his hand back and smacked him hard enough to make his ears ring.

"Whoa, whoa there kid." Reid fended off Callen's counterblows, as the shell-shocked Agent swing blindly on pure instinct. "I just needed to make sure you weren't injured.

Callen glared at the other man. "Where were you before I had the opportunity to get injured?"

"Hey listen Princess, this isn't amateur dramatics – there are no frigging cues or signs leading you to the right way. Maybe this job isn't for you if undercover…."

"Go screw yourself … Captain" G spat liking the darkening he saw in the other man's eye, because right now he just needed something to hit, really badly. "It's not our job to go choosing who's worth saving and who makes the juiciest bait!"

Reid snarled slightly at the man attempting to get between him and the mouthy rookie in front of him. With an overly zealous pull he manhandled the kid out of the packed room.

"Firstly – you did about a million things wrong in there…." The older man began hotly once they were in the near deserted back hallway.

"I could have gotten her out damn it!" G returned angrily.

"Listen up G-ina – I don't have time to hold your hand and braid your hair every time a thing like this goes wrong- and yes that was pretty fucked up, and you…." Reid trailed off glancing at the younger man in front of him, with the earnest eyes and the baby face.

Swiping a hand over his face he sighed. "You showed some natural God given talent in there. I would never have reached you in time, you were marked for sure but you kept your head…"

"And Chastity lost hers." Callen growled the heat in his face still not subsiding.

Bill Reid hid his grin. The fact that this newbie wasn't so focused on building his own damn Career that he had forgot he was in the 'Protect and Serve' business, was somewhat endearing the smartass to the grizzled veteran. There was no denying the kid had the knack – and what he lacked in age he seemed to make up for in self confidence. This one he could work with, he might just be able to find a home for the talents of one Mr. on his team.

Out loud he replied gruffly. " We do the best we can to break even kid- control is an illusion for punks with chips on their shoulders or assholes who didn't get enough cuddle time with Mommy and are out to prove something. Which are you?"

"Minimizing the danger to those we are supposed to be protecting is no illusion; it's our job. And… I'm both actually!" G supplied in a challenging tone.

Bill Reid threw his head back and laughed. "Me too! Welcome to the team Son! "