The man knelt silently in the darkness of the room, his knees aching from the strain of pressing against the hardwood floor for hours. His hands were securely cuffed to a metal band in the floor. It looked like the world's largest wood staple, ugly but effective. His wrists were scuffed and swollen from where he had tried to pull himself free. Now he waited patiently and thought about his life. There was little else to do.
He had always tried to be a good man, or at least a better one than his father. It was why he had studied to be a lawyer, became a cop, and eventually joined the dark dangerous group of men and women who sold their identities-souls for the greater good. But that wasn't why he was chained in the filthy room he was in now. No he was there because of a woman. A woman even more dangerous than the life they lived. A woman he had been too foolish to hold on to.
For many years his only reason for living was work. When a op went bad he fought to live not because he was afraid to die or because he thought he deserved more time. He fought because he knew that his death would result in criminals getting away with their evil, hurting innocents that he could have saved if he lived just a little longer. He had long since accepted that his end would be bloody and likely painful. He had accepted that eventuality so that others may live happy and innocent, something he had never had.
When he joined NCIS he found that slowly, little by little the desperate need that had drove him for years was starting to erode. It started with the laughter he shared with the team and ended with the kiss he had planted firmly on his lovely partner's lips. In that moment he realized truly and firmly something that had been growing inside his heart since the start of his liaison position. He wanted to live. He wanted to live with her, for her, happily ever after. He believed that maybe beneath her walls of hurt and torn emotion that's what she wanted too. Then Siderov happened. Deeks shuddered in the darkness as the cold of that man's memory enveloped him. Death would have been such a mercy at that time. He had prayed for it every second that drill screamed against his teeth. It had been so terribly easy to achieve too. Only one teeny tiny truth separated Deeks and an end to his torment. But he hadn't given in, hadn't told on Michelle. He held his silence not because of Sam but because of his beautiful Kensalina. He had been convinced that he would not survive the encounter no matter what he did. He was equally convinced that Sam would, just because he had to have hope that someone would live to protect Kensi. Sam wouldn't do that if Deeks threw his wife's life away. Callen wouldn't either because he was Sam's best friend and would share in his pain. Hetty would retire after losing one of her people so bloodily. So Deeks didn't tell his secrets, suffered the agony wrought upon him with as much dignity as he could muster.
After, when against all hope it was clear he would live he had cocooned himself tightly in his own world of misery. Partly it was in his nature to lick his wounds in private, but mostly he didn't want to drag Kensi into his pit of despair. He may not have survived his recovery if not for Nate talking some sense into his broken head. Even then if Kensi had rejected him like he had rejected her…he didn't want to consider it.
One thing the ordeal with Siderov had taught him though was that Kensi was his life. Without her he wilted like a flower without the sun. So he started to push her, to force her to open her heart to him. It had worked after much pain and shouted words. Then Hetty had snatched his sun up like the great snake Apophis in Egyptian folklore. He had weathered the resulting months, sustained by memory and love, but ached from his still sore wounds. When they went to find his sun in Afghanistan he experienced another startling revelation while looking into the crying eyes of blind man. Love could be dangerous, could twist a beautiful good thing into something unrecognizable. The case with the double agent only strengthened this awful thought. So he had pulled away from his Kensi, trying to find himself again. As deeply as he loved her he feared himself more. He was the son of Gordon Brandel after all, the cruel man who tortured what he should have treasured. Could that evil lurk in he, Deeks? He wouldn't have believed it before Afghanistan but after he wasn't so sure. But even as he had pulled away she had clung to him in her own strange way. And he wasn't strong enough to let her go. That was how he actually ended up where he was.
A simple stakeout had gone terribly wrong. They hadn't known what they were up against. Instead of the average American idiot caught up in trouble out of their league they were following a man who dealt in death. The man had spotted their tail and had called for backup before leading them into a trap. Deeks still wasn't sure how that had slipped past Nell and Eric. The ensuing firefight had left Kensi with a bullet in her thigh and no bullets left in their guns. Deeks swallowed thickly remembering how he had held Kensi tight against his side, both of them sitting on the hot pavement waiting to die. He kept pressure on her wound but she was bleeding out fast. The man they had been tailing had stepped around the vehicle they were hiding behind still immaculate in his designer suit.
"What agency are you from?" he asked quietly. Deeks eyed the gun held loosely in the his hand.
"NCIS," replied Deeks flatly. Kensi stirred against him.
"Deeks," she said, her voice breathy from pain. Her face was colorless, the fabric of her pants anything but. The man glanced at her when she spoke. His mouth twitched in annoyance.
"She needs a hospital," said Deeks. The man raised his eyebrows.
"My friends worked very hard to ensure that at least one of you did. But I hardly think you're commenting on their success." Deeks grit his teeth against the anger that demanded he put Kensi to the side and beat the man to death.
"If you wanted us dead we'd be dead by now. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Just please let her go." The man's smile was slight but very cold.
"Just because you are alive now does not mean that I won't be killing the two of you momentarily. I just want to ask a few questions and receive honest answers. Deeks looked at the blood covering his hands. Kensi was badly hurt but she would last without treatment an hour maybe more if she kept her pulse rate down. It was plenty of time for Callen and the others to find them. It was also plenty of time for the man to shoot them both in the head.
"I'm sure that those questions are very important to you. But my team will be arriving in the next twenty minutes. You could try to torture us for the information but Kensi won't stay conscious long and I promise you it will take longer than the time you've got to make me talk. But if you take me with you and leave her here—alive—I swear I'll answer all of your questions. Honestly and without the mess of torture. Just take me with you." The man studied him for a long moment, his face emotionless.
"I hope you don't think you'll survive such a trip with me. As soon as I have what I want you will die." Deeks smiled.
"So we have a deal?"
The last thing that he remembered was leaving Kensi lying wounded with a makeshift bandage around her leg. He didn't think she had been fully conscious while he bargained for her life. She had been too confused when he stood to leave her. She had begged them not to hurt him, trying desperately to regain her feet but she had suffered too much blood loss. He had tried to hide his tears from his captors as they all piled into the vehicle that was take him away from his love.
The man in the suit hadn't come for him yet. They hadn't hurt him either—there was no use. They had simply chained him and left him. He had little hope that Callen and Sam would find him in time. They had to find Kensi, then take her to the hospital, then wait until she had recovered enough to tell them what had happened. Then they had to start the arduous task of hunting down a team of trained professionals. There simply wasn't enough time. But at least Kensi would be alive. Deeks found it ironic that he would die for the only thing he had found to live for.
His head came up when he heard the creak of an old floorboard. Death was coming for him. He hoped they would at least let him stand. His knees were killing him. The knob on the door turned. Deeks closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again the man in the suit stood before him the gun in his hand again. The door was closed behind him.
"Are you ready to answer my questions?" Deeks nodded silently. He wondered if Kensi had survived the wait for Sam and Callen. "How much does your agency know about myself and my friends?" Deeks shrugged, a crooked smile lightening his face.
"We didn't even know you had friends. Or training. We thought you were a small fish that would lead us to the great white lurking the shadows." The man was silent for a moment studying him.
"How skilled is your team? Your tail from this morning was quite impressive." Deeks shrugged.
"They're pretty decent. You should probably start running," The bound man's eyes darkened. "Because if they find you it won't be pretty. For you at least. They'll have beers afterward and call it a good days work."
"Even though they'll be mopping your blood off the floor?" queried the man without anger.
"Especially because of that. It happens sometimes but that doesn't mean they tolerate it." The man in the suit nodded slowly.
"Well I can assure you that running is exactly what I intend to do. There is no use in taking a risk for such an operation as this. I'd rather start over in Rio. I like the wildlife better there anyway." Deeks kept his smile to himself this time because honestly he wasn't sure who would win in a confrontation: his team or the suit team. At least his surrogate family would remain safe. The man sighed quietly. "I have one more question for you." Deeks swallowed thickly at the man's regretful tone. "Where would you like to be buried?" Distantly he heard the click of the gun's hammer being drawn back.
"Somewhere with a view of the ocean." His throat was tight. He bowed his head as the man brought the gun level with his face.
"It will be so."