A/N I've been having a bit of a difficult time lately. Lots of things on my mind. When I'm stressed, it comes out in the form of OOC H/C stories. LoL This is my first venture into the NCIS NOLA realm. Let me know what you think? (Remember, this is very OOC H/C)

"Savannah deserves justice, not vengeance."

Christopher said he was good to go alone, but there was no way Special Agent Dwayne "King" Pride was letting the younger NCIS agent tackle this solo. It was the first time LaSalle had lost someone this close to him – other than his grandma when he was a kid, and at least that had been from natural causes.

Savannah had been murdered. As a message to Pride. Never mind the fact that the killer had been initially looking for Christopher, knowing that the young man was more like a son to him than just a friend or fellow agent. He didn't even want to think about what he would've done if Jenks had succeeded in killing Chris. Killing any innocent as a friggin' "message" was despicable. The fact that it was Savannah broke Dwayne's heart. But if it had been Christopher... Well, again, he didn't even want to think about it.

But Pride knew Chris well enough to know that his friend would be blaming himself right about now, thinking that it should have been him instead of her, if he'd just gotten there a few minutes sooner... Well, thinking that way would only bring the kid more grief.

So, Pride had done what any good friend would do in this situation.

He'd ignored all the requests, pleas, and adamant declarations to be left alone.

Which was why he now sat shoulder to shoulder with the young man who had just lost the love of his life. Both men were wearing their best suits, sitting in the front pew of the large cathedral, listening to Savannah's father tell endearing stories about his beautiful daughter.

Pride turned his head ever so slightly to his left, eyeing Christopher carefully. It was like gazing upon a statue, if you were to believe the stony expression and perfect posture. But Dwayne knew better. The kid had been stretched to the breaking point even before this particular 'proverbial straw' had been dropped on his back. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed from the crushing weight of it all - whether it be five minutes from now, or five months. And Dwayne planned to be there when it happened. To help this young man who was bound and determined to go it alone.

He saw the muscle pulsing in his young friend's jaw, clearly depicting the strain and concentration it took to stay in control; he took note of the tiniest twitch of the fingers yearning to clench into a fist; he watched the knee bouncing in irritation and impatience without its owners knowledge.

Most of all, he sensed rather than saw the painstakingly averted eyes. The kid had not made eye contact with his mentor since Baitfish's death. But Dwayne didn't need to look into Christopher's eyes to know what he was feeling.

The anger. The guilt. The pain. Everything was rolling off the kid in waves that Pride couldn't miss even if he wanted to. LaSalle was a pro at compartmentalizing. He had lots of practice burying everything, all his negative emotions, down deep where no one could see it.

Except Pride. Because Pride could read his young protégé like a book. And this particular book would be a bestseller.

There was action, romance, pain, intrigue. And the main character had an arc that would outdo most. Over the past eight years, Dwayne had personally witnessed the change from jaded cop to caring-but-cautiously guarded NCIS agent. And he'd been honoured to play a small part in the transition. But the kid's deep seated tendency to hide his pain was purely instinctual, and it was something Pride couldn't really fault him for.

His mind travelled back to a midnight phone conversation with a concerned older brother. Dwayne hadn't been the least bit surprised that Chris had neglected to contact his family after Savannah's death. Cade had heard about the gunfire at Christopher's on the news at one of the roadside café's his bus driver had chosen as a rest stop, which only reported three casualties, the identities not released until families could be notified.

The call had been panicked to say the least. A groggy Pride had finally managed to calm him but it was the conversation that followed that still echoed in Dwayne's mind.

"Take care of my little brother, Pride. Like I said before, our father wasn't much of a dad to us growin' up. You've filled that void for Chris ever since he met you."

"I'll do what I can, you know that. But you're brother, he's a strong kid –"

"Not nearly as strong as he'd like everyone to think. You're the only one who's been able to break through the walls he spent years building."

Cade had paused then, as if trying to decide whether to voice what was on his mind.

"Savannah wasn't just another girl to Chris."

"I agree. In the eight years I've known him, I'd never seen him like that with anyone else."

"He was in love with her, Pride."

"They'd only been dating for a few weeks –"

Cade interrupted him again, clearly needing to get his point across. "You know we all went to school together, right?"

"Yeah," Pride said slowly, sensing Cade was on the cusp of an important revelation.

"When Chris was just fifteen, he told me that…" another pause. "I feel like I'm breaking some sorta brother code here, but if you're gonna be able to help him, you need to know how deep this goes. And he certainly ain't gonna tell ya'."

Dwayne kept his silence, waiting for Cade to say what he needed to say. He heard the tears in the other man's voice as he started again:

"When Chris was just fifteen… he told me that he was going to marry Savannah."

Pride's breath caught in his chest. "A boyhood crush," he asked hopefully.

"You and I both know how well Chris guards that heart of his. But we also know, when that kid opens up to someone, lets them in, he loves them wholly and completely. The last time he did that outside of me and our mama, was with you. Then Savannah came back into his life and made it clear that she loved him back –"

"And Christopher welcomed her in with open arms," Dwayne finished for him.

"Yeah," Cade confirmed. "But he never stopped loving her, Pride. Not for a second in the fifteen years since the summer day he made that declaration did he ever stop loving Savannah!"

Pride pictured in his mind's eye, a young Christopher LaSalle. A boy, who despite the cool indifference of an apathetic father, clung desperately to the undeniable innocence of first love.

"He's gonna want to go to her funeral alone, to lick his wounds in private. I can't be there for him. Heck, even if I was there, he'd just try to take care of me instead of letting me take care of him."

"Cade –"

"I know you're his boss, Agent Pride. But I need you to be that dad that he never knew, right now. Promise me, you'll save him again. Please. You're the only one he'll listen to."

"I promise."

Now, as Pride watched Christopher stand to take his position as one of the pallbearers, he wondered how exactly he was going to keep that promise. Because Chris was wound up so tight, Dwayne wasn't certain that even he could break through the walls this time.

After the funeral, Dwayne checked his phone. A text from Brody revealed that she and Percy were starting the inventory of the shipping crates that had arrived in port over the past week. A hundred acres worth of crates in total. Well, he tried to warn them. Either way, it meant a late night for both junior agents, which translated to more time for him to get through to Christopher.

LaSalle was silent for the entire car ride, until Pride intentionally missed the turn that would take them to the younger man's apartment. "Where're we goin', King?" Chris did his best to keep his tone flat, emotionless, but Pride could feel the tension in the air.

"Figured we'd go back to my place tonight."

"I don't need a babysitter."

Yeah, you do, Pride thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "It'll take a couple days to get your apartment… cleaned up."

"Then I'll stay in a hotel."

"Nonsense. Why stay in a hotel when I have a perfectly comfortable sofa?"

"Isn't that where you sleep?" Chris intoned matter-of-factly.

Pride shrugged. "I'll sleep on the floor."

"No, no way," the first hint of emotion since before Baitfish was killed leaked into the younger man's voice. Pride. Mixed with a bit of panic. Dwayne could only guess what that was about. Regardless, he kept driving, making no move to change direction. "King – "

"It's not up for discussion, Christopher."

Recognizing Pride's stubborn determination, Chris clamped his mouth shut – with effort – and returned his gaze to the passing scenery.

It was true, Christopher's apartment was still undergoing crime scene cleanup. But, really, Dwayne just wanted to make sure the kid slept. The exhaustion was clear in his eyes. At least, it was to Pride.

Ever since… Baitfish… Chris had been afraid to sleep, knowing full well that nightmares old and new would intermingle to create horrific versions of his waking life that he would have never thought possible.

At first, it had been easy. The adrenaline rush of getting justice for Savannah –

"Savannah deserves justice, not revenge…"

Pride's words entered unbidden into his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, trying to purge his memory of the moment when he had almost –

A hand on his shoulder yanked him back to the present. "Chris!" The tone of Pride's voice told LaSalle that his name had been said with increasing urgency more than once. He lowered his hand and, forgetting himself, made eye contact with his friend – and broke it just as quickly. The concern in that gaze almost brought all his emotions to the surface, and he remembered why he had been avoiding it for so long.

Pride was more than a friend to him. More than a mentor, even. Though he never told the man, and never would, Pride was like a father to him. He wondered sometimes if Laurel knew how lucky she was to have Dwayne Pride not only as her father but as her dad. A man who loved her and was determined to protect her no matter what the cost. Then he'd see the way she looked at her father and knew that she was fully aware.

Didn't stop him from envying her a little bit.

"You with me?" The question came filled with the worry and anxiety of a father but Chris had to get that thought out of his head. It was nothing more than a pipe dream. Completely unattainable. Dwayne Pride was not his father and no amount of wishing would make it so!

"Yeah, I'm here," Chris finally replied. He gazed out at the carriage house that made up their offices and, upstairs, Pride's home. Christopher shouldn't be here. A weird kind of panic began to eat at his insides. He eyed his truck in the driveway across the street. The truck that Pride hadn't let him drive to the funeral, insisting on going with him. The man had even taken his keys away from him. "Can I have my keys, King? Please? I just wanna go home." It was one final ditch effort to get his way. "I need to be alone."

The hand on his shoulder shifted, squeezing the back of his neck. "No, Chris. You want to be alone. There's a difference."

Christopher felt his hackles rise at that. "Who are you to tell me what I do and don't need, huh?"

The hand dropped from the back of his neck and Christopher tried his best to ignore the cold void it left behind.

He watched as Pride turned off the engine and removed the keys from the ignition. "I'm your friend," Pride said simply. "Now, come on," he added, stepping out of the vehicle and rounding the front to wait for Chris.

LaSalle complied, albeit reluctantly, and followed Dwayne into the carriage house.

A few hours later, both men were sitting on Pride's sofa, nursing a beer and watching a game on the television. Definitely not what Christopher had been expecting. It was kinda nice. True, if you asked him who was winning or even who was playing the game, he wouldn't be able to tell you. But just having his best friend close, without being pushed to talk about his feelings was surprisingly relaxing.

He'd even almost forgotten about why he was so panicked to be here, to spend the night here. Almost.

He had always had a propensity for nightmares as a kid. Nightmares about his father, usually. But, after Cade got sick, his brother became the main character in about 50% of those dreams. Totally different in nature, though.

The nightmares about Cade were about his brother hurting himself and Chris not being able to stop him. The ones about his father, well, they were more like reliving the past. A past LaSalle would much rather forget.

If he had mentioned any of this to Savannah, she probably would have told him his subconscious was trying to force him to face up to his fears or something. But Chris just wasn't into all that touchy-feely stuff.

If there was one good thing his dad had taught him, it was to never show weakness. And Christopher was nothing else if not a good student.

Ironically, he hadn't needed to talk to Savannah about any of it, because her presence alone had put an end to the nightmares. He'd gotten some of his best night's sleep after she started spending the night at his place. The peace that she brought to his life was just one of the reasons he loved her so much.

And now that was gone…

He felt the hand on his shoulder again, bringing him back to the here and now. "Hey, Christopher. You with me, son?"

And, dang, if having Dwayne Pride call him son didn't bring a heaviness to his heart. Reluctantly shrugging Pride's hand off, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He stood and paced to the other side of the room, trying for nonchalance as he swiped at the sudden sting in his eyes.

"How about another beer?"

"Sounds good," Chris nodded, keeping his back to his mentor.

Dwayne retrieved two more beers from the fridge downstairs. His plan was to get enough cold ones into the kid that he either opened up or passed out. Not the greatest plan in the world, but it was something.

This was beer number three and Chris didn't even look groggy yet. He had a good buzz on, sure. He'd even zoned out there for a bit. But he was nowhere close to shutting down for the night. Dwayne had figured, since he hadn't slept since Savannah's death, the kid would be down for the count after one. Apparently, he'd figured wrong. Time to adjust the plan. But how? He didn't exactly have a Plan B.

Even more than talking, which Pride was sure would take more than a night's worth of downtime, Christopher needed to sleep.

With that thought in mind, Dwayne headed back upstairs, a cold bottle of beer in each hand, mind reeling for a Plan B.

Chris didn't really want another beer but with Pride downstairs, he had time to pull himself together. He did NOT want to lose it in front of his friend. That had happened once before and Christopher was determined that it would never happen again. Back then he'd been in a dark place. Working Vice did that to a person.

Pride had saved him. No doubt about it. But if he had to do it again, to save his young protégé, surely he'd decide that Christopher wasn't worth the trouble and leave. Chris didn't think he could handle that particular loss.

So, yeah, he went to the bathroom sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Staring at himself in the mirror, he muttered, "You're stronger than this." When that didn't work, he channelled his father and growled, "Suck it up, ya' pansy!"

By the time he exited the bathroom, his eyes weren't stinging any longer. Everything was pushed down deep to where it needed to be. But he didn't know how long that was going to last. Worse, he didn't know how long he'd be able to stay awake, and he wouldn't be in control if he fell asleep. No tellin' what might happen if he had a nightmare.

King might leave for good after one of those babies!

His apartment was out of the question. All that blood on the floor. Savannah's blood…

A motel. He'd get a motel room for a couple nights. He grabbed his jacket off the nearby chair and, with plan in mind, headed for the door.

Dwayne opened the door and found Christopher on the other side, jacket in hand. Leaving, he realized.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I told you, I need to be alone."

"And I told you, need and want are two totally different animals."

"King – "

Before LaSalle could finish what he was about to say, Pride shoved the two bottles of beer into his hand, gripped him by the shoulders, and steered him back toward the sofa. "You've already had two beers, Chris. I'm not letting you get behind the wheel."

"Then I'll walk," the kid insisted, trying to turn around again.

Pride let him, but kept a firm grip on his shoulders, preventing him from getting to the door. "Chris, listen to me. You just suffered a terrible loss." He tried to make eye contact with the younger man but Christopher was having none of it. "Hey!" That brought the tortured eyes up to meet his own for a brief moment. He gentled his tone, putting as much affection into his gaze as he possibly could. "If you think I'm going to let you suffer it alone, you've got another thing coming, kid."

The eyes darted away once again but not before Dwayne saw the panic. "What are you so afraid of, Chris?"

"Nothin'," Christopher said, moving further into the room of his own accord. He handed Pride one of the bottles as he perched himself on the edge of the sofa, posture stiff. His gaze went straight to the television.

Dwayne sat down to Chris' left, studying him carefully. He set his own beer on the coffee table, then gently removed Christopher's from his fist and did the same with it. That done, he stretched his arm across the taut shoulders, easing his young friend back against the cushions. "Relax, son."

Instead of leaning back, Chris compromised by pushing his butt back further on the seat. Not ready to fully recline yet. Either way, he was sitting fully on the sofa now, but his back was still ramrod straight.

Dwayne kept his hand on the tense muscles between Christopher's right shoulder and neck. Eventually, he felt the kid shaking from the strain. Pride had no idea where the tension was coming from but he could venture a guess. And he knew he had to ease that tension if Christopher was ever going to sleep.

Suddenly, Plan B was right there in front of him. Just waiting to be implemented. It was a bit more touchy-feely than he was used to with Christopher but he'd done this with Laurel before when she'd been worried about Orion after the explosion at the gala and had been unable to sleep. And, truth be told, he considered Chris to be the son he never had.

Cade's words went through his mind again. "I need you to be that dad that he never knew..."

That sealed the deal for Dwayne. He started to gently knead the muscles beneath his hand and, almost immediately, Christopher tried to jerk away. Dwayne had been expecting that, though. He kept a firm grip on the shoulder, hauling him back.

"What're you doin', King?"

"Trying to get you to relax," he replied simply, continuing his ministrations. And, even while Chris fought it, the strain in the muscles began to ease.

"I don't want to relax," Chris murmured. "I want to be alone."

"Too bad." Dwayne brought his other hand up to massage the slope of the shoulder closest to him. He could feel Chris tense in one way but relax in another – LaSalle always had been a work in contradictions.

The kid wanted to bolt, no doubt about that. But, Dwayne humbly realized, he also longed for the TLC.

The rigid back began to slouch into the cushions. Dwayne took advantage of that and tilted the slowly relaxing form towards him ever so slightly. He had to maneuver a bit to keep massaging the shoulder that was now pressed against his side, but he managed.

A moment later, Christopher's head was tilted against Dwayne's shoulder and chest. Pride kept one arm across the now limp shoulders but stopped massaging, thinking the kid was finally asleep. A half-hearted attempt to sit up proved otherwise. Dwayne simply tightened his hold on Christopher's shoulders, holding him still. "You're good," he whispered. "Just sleep, Chris. You need to sleep."

"No… can't… 'leep," was the murmured reply.

"Oh yeah?" Pride chuckled. "Because it looks to me like you're doing just fine."

Christopher found himself back at Savannah's funeral. Pride at his side. Everything seemed as it was before. But, wait. Pride's chair was further away. Their shoulders weren't touching. That was one thing that had helped Chris keep his emotions in check. Just knowing that his best friend was there without having to look to find him, to risk the eye contact that could very well have the opposite effect and cause Chris to fall apart at the seams.

Curious to know what had changed, but terrified at what he might discover, Christopher turned…

And found that he was completely alone! Pride was gone. Savannah's father was gone. Everyone was gone!

He surged to his feet and looked around the room. Desperate to find Pride. But his friend was nowhere to be seen. He spun in a circle.

Nobody. He was well and truly alone.

Except… Savannah. Lying in her coffin. It was strange to see someone so animated and full of life, so still, so… lifeless.

"It's your fault, you know."

He knew that voice.

"Are you listening to me, boy?!"

Even after all these years, the gravelly tone still elicited a chill from him. A distinct fear of what was to come.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to you!"

Reluctantly, Christopher turned to face what he already knew was there. 'This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real. Wake up, Chris!'

His father stared down at him. But it was from a height that shouldn't be possible. Chris looked at his hands. They were so small. He looked down at his feet, shod in the tennis shoes he used to wear when he was...

Suddenly, his father's height made perfect sense.

Christopher was fourteen years old again. Still waiting on the growth spurt Cade had promised him would happen.

"You should'a been home, protectin' her!"

"I didn't know she was in danger – "

"Of course, you knew! You chose a life in law enforcement. She didn't."

"She knew – "

"I told you this was the wrong path for you. You're too weak to be a cop. But you wouldn't listen to me. You never listened to me!" On the last word, the man raised his fist and cracked it down against Christopher's jaw. His small frame flew back, slamming into the wall that hadn't even been there a moment ago.

He looked around again. The church had transformed into his father's work room in Alabama. Christopher watched as the man removed his belt, folding it in half so that the buckle was facing outward.

"Please, daddy! Please, don't!"

Enough time passed that Dwayne was starting to drift off, as well. Then the sleeping form pressed against his side started to twitch, low moans escaping the usually impenetrable barriers.

Soon, the twitches turned into struggles, the moans into whimpers. Chris shoved himself out of his arms and over to the opposite end of the sofa. Dwayne had no idea what to do next. Half-heartedly trying to pull away was one thing, this was something totally different. What was happening here?

When Chris cowered into the corner of the sofa, covering his face with his arms, Dwayne was thoroughly perplexed, to say the least.

"Please, daddy! Please, don't!"

The fear in those words, the boy-like tone in the voice, created horrific pictures in Pride's mind. Not knowing what else to do, he slowly inched forward, as if approaching a frightened animal. Chris' eyes were open but he was only seeing something from the past – and, God help him, Pride was certain this wasn't just a scene manufactured in Christopher's imagination. This was a memory.

"It's okay, Chris," he said gently. "It's me. King. You gotta wake up for me now, kiddo." Even as he spoke, he inched closer to his young friend. There was no recognition. In fact, Christopher remained in the corner of the sofa and buried his face and head even further beneath his arms.

Pride reached out, gently stroking one forearm. Earlier, Chris had been shaking with the strain of something or other – likely trying to hold himself together. But now, he was trembling with fear. Pride had seen it too often in children suffering abuse from one or both of the people that were supposed to love them more than anything in the world, to protect them from any and all harm – their parents!

He'd known that Chris hadn't had it easy growing up. Even before his conversation with Cade, he'd sensed that it'd had to do, in whole or in part, with their father. But Chris had never offered up much information on the topic, and Dwayne hadn't wanted to pry.

This was far worse than he had ever imagined.

He kept inching his way closer until he was practically hovering over the huddled and trembling form. If he couldn't get Christopher out of the nightmare, then maybe he could insert himself into it somehow.

Praying his touch and his words would puncture the barrier between the waking world and the dream realm, he wrapped his arms around Christopher's back and shoulders, enveloping him completely. But the trembling worsened. Going that one step further, he maneuvered himself and Christopher so that the younger man was in his lap, then he rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort in his ear.

Christopher waited for the next blow to connect with his tender skin, but it never came. Instead, he felt himself being held, comforted. Protected. His fourteen year old mind couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. He wasn't sure his thirty one year old mind would have done any better. But he chose to embrace it.

He leaned into the warmth of the embrace, relished in the gentle rocking motion. Then the words penetrated his mind, as well. "You're okay. I've got you. No one is going to hurt you ever again."

He recognized this voice as well. Not the way he recognized that of his father, with fear and dread.

No, this voice instilled comfort and peace.

Love.

The likes of which he'd never felt from his father. Even when the man re-entered his life a decade later with empty apologies and meaningless platitudes, there was still the undercurrent of disapproval and contempt.

Suddenly, he was no longer cowering in a corner of his father's work room. He was sitting on a sofa, in someone's lap. At fourteen, he knew he should be mortified but a small part of him knew this was a dream.

Or was it?

The room looked vaguely familiar. The chest his back was pressed against was broad. The cologne wafting around him reminded him of someone. All that, coupled with the voice whispering "I've got you, Christopher" brought back memories of friendly banter and jokes, ending with one particular:

"I said, outta the car."

"NCIS Agent Pride. But, around this neighbourhood, folks call me – "

"King. Yeah, so I hear. Only problem is, only kings I answer to are God Almighty and Elvis. So, cough up what ya' got and move on."

"You need to learn some manners, son."

The boy tilted his head back and looked up, needing to put a face with the voice and the blur of memories…

Dwayne Pride was looking down at him, his gaze holding the love that Christopher had wished more than once to see in his father's eyes.

As Christopher began to calm down, Dwayne changed position, moving the still sleeping younger man with him as he pressed his back against the arm of the sofa. He settled Chris in front of him, one leg stretched out between Chris and the back cushions, the other bent with his foot on the floor. At one point, Chris looked up and back, confused gaze locking on him. Then he fell back to sleep.

Dwayne continued to rock his young friend until he finally joined him in slumber. When he woke again, the sun was rising over the buildings across the street, shining through the window, casting its orange-pink hue across the floor.

He looked down, pleased to see Christopher snoring softly against his chest. The dark circles under the kid's eyes were still there but not nearly as dark as they had been the day before.

Remembering how mortified Christopher was when he had fallen apart in Dwayne's arms ten years earlier, Pride gently lifted Chris enough to ease himself out from beneath him and stood up. He gently carded his hand through the dark, close cropped hair.

With the nightmare-induced revelations that had been made the night before, Pride wished more than ever that Chris had been his own son. Or, at the very least, that he had been around to not only protect this young man who had come to mean so much to him over the years but to teach his old man a thing or two about what happened to grown men who hurt little kids.

He sighed. If wishes were fishes.

All he could do now, was take care of an adult Christopher LaSalle to the best of his ability. Speaking of…

Dwayne headed downstairs to make some breakfast for himself and the younger agent in question. Deciding that he should also make enough for Brody and Percy, as they had probably worked late into the night and wouldn't wake up in time to make breakfast for themselves.

He laughed softly to himself, wondering if all senior agents made breakfast for their people after a late night investigation.

TBC

A/N Reviews are like candy. :-) Chapter Two is complete. I just want to see what y'all think of this chapter first. What do you think? Should I post Chapter Two? ~Kelcor