Hello Everyone.

I was originally going to stay away from any stories revolving around the season finale, but this story would not get out of my brain, so here it is. I will update as quickly as possible. For those of you are are following Never Judge a Book By It's Cover, I apologize for the delay in updating, but we have been dealing with a death in the family and that story has been a little difficult to pick up again. I will finish though and should have an update by tomorrow. Anyway... enjoy!

"Sam?" Michelle asked worriedly. Sam's head bobbed up and down and he made a guttural sound, but nothing more. He was fighting to stay conscious, but it was evident that it would be a battle that he was going to lose.

"Help me get him out of this damn chair," Michelle ordered Callen and Kensi, who were standing in next to the machine that had caused their friend so much pain. "Callen," she shouts, trying to get his attention. Callen snaps out of his shocked stare and rushes over to her side to begin unbuckling the restraints that held Sam in place. Kensi watched with teary eyed horror. Sam was safe—or at least breathing, but where was Deeks? Where was her partner?

Kensi closed her eyes tightly as she tried her best to ignore the pained grunts of Sam as Callen and Michelle pulled him from the chair and lowered him to the ground. The room was small and uncomfortable, giving her a sense of claustrophobia that left her skin crawling. Her hands shook with nervous energy—she was sure that Deeks would be there. Slowly she opened her eyes and felt the weight of heart crushing sorrow when she saw the haunted look that Sam was giving her. He was trying to speak, but no noise would come out. Kensi knew what he was doing—he was trying to tell her where Deeks was. Fat tears rolled down Sam's swollen face as he looked past her to the opposite side of the room, where a set of French doors sat unopened. A lump grew in Kensi's throat when she realized no one had cleared that room yet. Kensi pulled her gun, ignoring the questioning looks from Michelle and Callen. Slowly she walked over to the door and her hand hesitated on the knob. What was she going to see when she opened this door? Was it what she feared she would see? Cautiously she turned the knob and pushed the door creaked loudly as it slowly swung open. The metallic scent of blood invaded her nose and her stomach soured instantly.

The room was too dark to see anything, so she pulled out her flashlight and clicked it on. She swept the beam over the small cluttered room. Her heart pounded in her chest when she recognized the clutter as instruments of torture. "No," she said breathlessly. This couldn't be happening to her. Not now. Not after that kiss. Deeks can't possibly have been forced to endure the mechanics of the medieval looking instruments of torture. As the beam swept across the room once more she paused on a chair that was located directly in the center of the room. Tears blurred her vision as she stepped toward the empty, blood spattered chair. Her shaking hand reached out to pluck lock of blonde hair off the headrest. She stared down blankly at the blood soaked clump of hair and she felt her stomach roll. There was no doubt in her mind as to hair the belonged to and the thought tore at her very soul.

"Kensi," Callen spoke softly.

"Where is he?" Her voice was merely a squeak and she couldn't take her eyes off of the hair that she held between her fingers.

"We will find him," Callen said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Kensi shrugged it off violently and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. The distant wail of sirens made her bottom lip tremble. There was no ambulance for Deeks—only Sam. She could taste bile in the back of her throat and she made a mad dash toward the exit that led into the alley between the two buildings.. She barely made it out into the sweltering heat of the California summer before she fell to her knees and vomited. After she was finished heaving she fell back against the dumpster of the alley and pulled up her knees close to her chest. She closed her eyes and banged her head against the scorching hot metal of the green dumpster. She felt so helpless… so lost.

A sudden thump against the dumpster caused her to jump to her feet and pull her gun. Siderov was still out there and since the deal with the nukes went south he was out for blood. Her nerves were on edge and she had to force herself to take a deep, calming breath. She heard the light thump again and she risked a quick glance back toward the warehouse where Callen and Michelle were dealing with the ambulance that had just pulled up. She knew that Siderov had managed to get away just as the three of them had stormed into the building. Maybe he didn't get very far—maybe he was hiding in the dumpster like the coward she knew he was. Her mouth went dry and she was shaking from the core of her body. Not from fear, but from pure unabated anger.

Kensi crept silently toward the dumpster, pausing when she heard the pitiful thump once more. Her mind screamed for her to get Callen—for her to wait. Her head may have said that, but her hands moved as if they were independent of her body. She gripped the plastic long plastic lid and placed the toe of her boot on the edge of the dumpster. She took one last breath before she flung the lid open and hoisted her self up, pointing her gun at the man that was cowering inside the grimy maggot infested dumpster. Her gun slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground as she stared in horror at the bloodied, beaten face of Marty Deeks. His face was no longer recognizable, but his floppy golden locks assured her that this was indeed her missing partner.

"Callen," She shrieked.

Deeks whimpered in fear and tried to push himself as far away from the shrill voice as possible. His actions were like a knife to her heart. He was afraid and she just made it worse. Slowly—cautiously, she climbed into the empty dumpster. Deeks buried his battered face into the corner of the dumpster as he tried to pull himself into the fetal position- an action that was severely impeded by his obviously broken leg. Kensi crouched down, making sure that she made as little noise as possible, so as not to startle him again.

"Kensi?" Callen called out, poking his head over the edge of the dumpster.

"No more," Deeks sobbed. "Please no more. I… I can't do this. Please just stop."

"Son of a bitch," Callen quietly cursed.

Kensi's hand flew to her mouth in hopes that it would stifle the sobs of her shattered heart. She didn't know how to handle this. That had broken him—completely destroyed him. How is she supposed to help him when the slightest sound terrifies him, giving him the belief that his ordeal isn't over yet?

"The ambulance is on its way," Callen whispered to her, not taking his eyes off of the trembling form of the perpetually happy Marty Deeks. "Talk to him."

Kensi nodded through her tears, "Okay." She lowered herself to her knees and dropped her hands to her lap, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. What do you say to a man who had just been brutally tortured? What do you say to the man who kissed you and you ran away like a scared little girl?

"Deeks?" Her voice was shaky at best..

"K…Kensi?" His voice was so weak that she barely heard him speak.

She inched closer, paying close attention to his body language, "Yeah Deeks—it's me."

"You shouldn't be here."

She inched closer and reached out her hand, allowing it to hover over his shoulder, "I am where I need to be."

Deeks sniffled and she could tell he was trying his best not to cry, "It… h…hurts."

Kensi gently rested her hand on his shoulder and he flinched, but she didn't remove it, "I know. I know it hurts, but I am here now. They will not hurt you again. I swear."

Deeks whimpered slightly as he turned to face her. Kensi had to work hard to control her gag reflex when she saw the damage that had been done to his handsome face. His bottom lip trembled and she wanted nothing more than to gather him up in her arms and comfort him. Unfortunately the damage that had been inflicted upon didn't allow her that option, so she settled for resting his head in her lap and gently stroking his hair. He seemed to settle some as she did this. "It's going to be okay," she whispered through her tears. "I'm here now."