A/N: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles, CBS, or any other known entity. I also do not own the song "Somewhere In Between" by Lifehouse, where the title and summary comes from. I hope you guys enjoy the story, and please review. :D
Somewhere In Between
He was somewhere in between the realm of pain and fear.
Pain was the constant order of the day. It was the first thing he felt when he woke up, often being the very thing that jolted him awake. From there, every movement, every flinch, every breath caused his body to writhe and spasm in deep anguish.
Secondary to everything else was the intense terror that came and went like the tide. Each spasm of pain brought a new wave of dread, knowing that in all likelihood, more pain was to come. Fright at the thought of another day here. Apprehension that he wouldn't ever get out of here. Panic that they had stopped looking.
He had long ago stopped counting the days, because each time the sun rose, it brought about a new level of anxiety, followed shortly by a deeper level of agony. A level that, before now, he would have never imagined was humanly possible.
Every day, he learned just how much torture a human body could withstand.
Every night, he prayed that it would end.
And the sun would rise again. The beating would commence. The drugs. The torture. The fear that if he didn't do what they said, things would be even worse.
He wasn't sure it could get worse than this. But he wasn't sure he wanted to find out the truth of that statement. It was a constant struggle to wake up in the morning, knowing there was no end in sight. He couldn't break free of them any more than they were likely to let him go.
He was broken, lifeless. A fractured shell of the man he used to be.
All that was left was pain and fear.
*~*~*~*
She was somewhere in between the realm of worry and sorrow.
Concern had wormed its way into every aspect of her being, no matter how much she tried to keep it out. It troubled her when they went out into the field, because it had recently become more obvious just how vulnerable they were. Thinking about what had become of their missing colleague caused her to lose sleep.
She grieved for the loss of her friend. Her heart wanted to believe that he was still alive, but her head told her the statistics were stacked against him. More often than not, her head won out, thrusting her deep into sadness.
She had long ago stopped counting the days, but each time the sun rose, her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Emotions she had to bottle up, so as not to attract unwanted attention from her colleagues.
Every day, she would force herself to focus on the job at hand to save someone else from her own pain.
Every night, she allowed herself to mourn for her missing comrade.
And the sun would rise again. Monday through Friday, she pushed herself through cases while fending off the concerned glances of Sam, Nate, Callen, Eric, and Hetty. The last thing she wanted was for them to be more worried about her than their lost friend. Saturday and Sunday, she kept to herself.
And in her solitude, her emotions caught up to her. Tears might grace her cheeks as regret consumed her. Her hands might shake as she worried about what happened to him.
Where was he now? Was he still even alive? And if they did get him back alive, would he be able to live with what happened?
The only answers she had were worry and sorrow.
*~*~*~*
He was somewhere in between the realm of his training and his worst nightmare.
In a not so distant past, he had read all the books. He continued to read his journals. He went to seminar after seminar. He knew exactly the things he should be saying and thinking. He knew exactly how things should be done in this situation.
Yet, this was different. This was full of unanswerable questions and a hundred thousand doubts. It was a prolonged waiting game, ripe with dead leads, disinformation, and dwindling hopes.
He had long ago stopped counting the days since the team had been turned upside down, instead focusing on how they were working now to repair the damage. They may only be able to bandage the wound, because there was no real healing. Not when there still weren't any answers.
Every day, he would leave his door open for anyone to talk.
Every night, he wondered if they could ever truly move on.
And the sun would rise again. And it was yet another day of work, of analyzing suspects and figuring out if they were telling the truth. All the while, analyzing the subtleties of the team and figuring out just where each of their minds was.
Eric was the only one who actually opened up to him. The more seasoned agents bottled themselves to get the job done, and chose to de-stress either with each other or in some other manner.
He was supposed to be able to help them. And yet, he was feeling and thinking the same things that they were. How could he ever be objective with them about this when he cared just as much?
His judgment was being tested by his training and his worst nightmare.
The End.