Thank you so, os much for the absolutely mindblowing support on this story. I honestly did not expect it given the nature of what is being written. Anyways, I hope that you'll all enjoy this next installment.

All the best, Cape

It was starting to grow dusk outside, and as such, the traffic had picked up significantly since the last time they had been driving, and because of the increase of vehicles on the road, their travel was significantly slowed. The agents fumed at being caught in the ending of rush hour, the delay in travel adding to the already palpable tension in the vehicle.

Kensi managed to bite back any criticism about Sam's driving, knowing that with the way he was weaving in and out of lanes, he was doing everything in his power to make their way through traffic as fast as possible.

When they were just over halfway there, Callen's phone started to ring.

"You're on speaker, Eric," he didn't bother with a greeting, in case it was time sensitive.

"Right. We've just got a hit on Kaleidoscope, it seems Troyger and one other guy are leaving the warehouse district right now, we'll following him on traffic cameras, but I can't guarantee that I won't lose him." He explained the agents, in the slightly awkward, half-rushed way that only Eric can explain things.

"What car is he driving?" Kensi asked, surprising the two senior agents.

"Uhm, a silver grey Jaguar, it looks like the five doors," Eric answered.

"He wouldn't dare to drive with Deeks in such a car at this hour," Kensi explained more to the agents than the technical operator.

"No he wouldn't," Sam agreed.

"Okay," the team lead nodded. "Eric see if you can keep following him, if he stops, I want you send a tactical team to his location. We'll still go to the address of the warehouse, hopefully Troyger leaving means that Deeks is there alone right now."

"Okay, I'll call you with any updates," Eric said before ending the call.

The traffic was still moving at a snail's pace, giving the female agent further time for intrusive thoughts to wander through her head. Vivid images from when she and Granger had rescued Sam and her not-quite boyfriend back then cluttered her mind, the picture of the beaten and defeated man sitting tied to a metal chair came back all too clearly. A knot started to form in her stomach at the thoughts of the aftermath of the torture he had endured, the physical wounds had been beyond rough, and the unprofessional dentistry had been horrific, but it had still been the psychological aspect, which had been the worst.

She did not, however, let herself believe that he was gone, no. Even though she wasn't a religious person, she somehow knew that she would have felt something if that was the case.

Having convinced herself that the man she loved was alive alleviated some of the tension in her body, but soon thoughts wandered back to the psychological aspects of what he had endured. Last time, she had been forced out of Deeks' life for several months following the horrible event, as she had allowed herself to be pushed away from the man whom she cared the most about, as he turned into a hermit. She knew that their relationship had progressed a lot since then, but she made him a silent promise that she would never leave his side through his recovery.

...

He knew that he couldn't have been in the wooden box for long, but his mind had already started drifting towards a panicky state once more. His eyes had dried up for the moment, as he couldn't find the strength to continue the otherwise cathartic release, since it strained his breathing too much. The pain in his lungs he had felt during his last confinement had worsened. Due to the fact that he had been drowning over and over, his throat, nose, and lungs felt like they were on fire, which only added to his already troubled breathing.

He tried moving in the little space he had, but since his hands were tied behind his back, he could hardly shift in the cramped space. After a minute of battling for increased comfortability, he gave up on it and closed his eyes, resigning himself to having to endure the slowly increasing pain in his joints.

Every time his thoughts started to wonder towards happier places, he would be pulled out of the dream-like state by some noise, rattling him with the fear that Scarface and his lackey had already returned, which left him in a constant state of increased anxiety.

...

Back in OPS, the two technical geniuses were busy at work, following the luxurious Jaguar on multiple screens from their high tech cave.

"You still got them?" Nell asked her partner in crime.

"Yup, they've just turned off Imperial Highway," he confirmed. "You getting anything off of facial rec?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "But I really can't speed up the process any more than I've already done."

"Why don't you-?"

"Look up known associates of Troyger," she interrupted him. He stood slightly flabbergasted, but smiling, still impressed that they could somehow always finish each other's sentences. "Good idea," she told him with a wink, causing him to blush.

In that moment, the doors opened and in stepped their operations manager, "Mr. Beale, Ms. Jones, any updates?"

"Callen, Sam, and Kensi are making their way to the address they got from Ryan Powell, hopefully Deeks will be there," he informed his boss, his voice faltering slightly at the mention of his missing friend.

Nell continued the short briefing, maintaining their trend of tag-teaming any updates, "We're also following Troyger through traffic cameras. Trying to get a hit on his passenger, but so far no luck."

"Good work," the elderly woman told them. "Make sure that we have an ambulance on standby if Deeks indeed is in that warehouse."

"Done and done," Eric assured her, before Hetty left the room again, most likely to brew some calming tea and follow the case from her own monitor.

...

Now only two blocks away from the address they had been given, Kensi and Callen started to prepare their rifles. They wanted to be able to go straight into the building upon arrival, as any time between them being spotted and them entering the building could mean the departure of their friend and partner.

"One block. Get ready." Sam told his teammates, more serious than Kensi had ever heard him before.

Kensi clutched her weapon, her knuckles turning white at the force. She attempted a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, but deep down inside she knew that the only thing able to calm her would be to see her boyfriend.

The ex-Navy SEAL pulled over just before they made it to the warehouse, as they wanted to close the last, short distance on foot. They exited the car and instantly started moving towards the offending building, wasting no time in clearing their surroundings.

Lining up at the door, Callen counted down, "On three, okay? One…two…three."

The team leader opened the door, allowing both Sam and Kensi in before he silently closed it behind them. The building was completely dark inside, prompting the agents to turn on the flashlights connected to their weapons.

They split up to cover more, before moving methodically along the wide room and in between the different shelving units. It was clear that the warehouse had been out of commission for quite a long time, metallic flakes and dust had settled on all the aluminum racks, causing it to glisten slightly whenever a cone of light drifted over it.

At the end of the large room were three metal doors, she was about to enter the middle one, when she noticed that the one on the far right was the only one of them which had a padlock connected to it.

"Guys, I've got something here," Kensi whispered, knowing they would easily be able to hear her through their earwigs.

Her two fellow agents moved swiftly towards her, still making sure to check their flanks for any unwanted guests. Upon their arrival she gestured silently at the lock, which kept them from entering the room.

The larger agent looked searchingly around them, until his attached flashlight settled on what looked to be a rusty brick hammer a few meters away. He picked up the object and secured his weapon before moving it behind his back, so he could use his full strength. After his coworkers had taken a large step backwards, he flung the hammer against the metal, luckily managing to break the shackle out of the locking bar.

...

He was brought out of his thoughts by a loud banging, instantly putting him on edge to the point where he was trembling in fear of what the sound might mean for him. His breathing started becoming more erratic and tears started to form in his eyes.

He heard someone yell into the room, but he was far too delirious to decipher the exact words in question. He was, however, able to hear the footsteps in the room, at the realization that there were multiple footsteps, a knot formed in his stomach, he knew they were taking their time for him to 'prepare'.

After a short moment of only being able to hear the footsteps around him, he heard a loud bang, causing his tear-filled eyes to finally flow over. It had been the same sound he had heard previously, albeit much louder this time. Another metal-on-metal strike sounded, causing him to whimper in fearful anticipation.

The lid opened and white light streamed into the box, blinding his only working eye, causing him to try and hide his head towards the bottom of the box. "P-please d-don't h-hurt me any…anymore," his voice quivered, barely recognizable to the agents in the room.

"Son of a bitch," Sam exclaimed.

"Eric we need an ambulance, now," Callen ordered through his earwig.

"Help me get him up," Sam told Callen, and together the two men lifted the trembling man from the box, the move making him groan in pain before they placed him gently on the cold concrete floor, since they lacked any better options.

As he lay on the floor, they were finally able to see the damage inflicted to the man, whom they all cared deeply about. His face was severely bruised, his left eye swollen shut, and there were several semi-deep cuts alongside his cheekbones and forehead.

He was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, the previously white cloth was stiff and dark red from blood that had dribbled down onto it. His torso and legs bore a plethora of bruises, welts, and what the agents thought to be burn marks. Many of the welts had broken the skin, the dried crimson red color a stark contrast to the many dark contusions.

The gruesome sight before her had knocked all wind out of her, and she already had tears flowing down her soft cheeks. She dropped down on both her knees next to him, not caring about the pain the impact with the concrete caused. She reached for him, but her gentle touch was met with a flinch, as if she had just burned him.

"Deeks it's me… it's Kensi," she told the sobbing man softly, her voice trembling as she attempted to keep her calm. "You're safe, we've got you," she continued.

He was not hearing any of the soothing words, as he continuously repeated the short sentences, "P-please no more," and "I d-don't work f-for anyone."

While Kensi attempted to deal with the mental first-aid, Sam and Callen took their time scouting the room, in it they found a decently sized pool of crimson liquid beneath a fixture in the ceiling, giving them some information as to what might have happened. Continuing the search of the room, they both audibly inhaled at the sight of two large, empty jugs with a cloth thrown unceremoniously over it, surrounded by a pool of clear water. Their collective anger rose even further, as both men dreaded what their liaison detective had had to have gone through.

Unable to get through to the man, Kensi grabbed her father's knife from her belt and promptly cut the bindings from his wrist, causing Deeks to instantly pull his hands close to his chest in fear of being restrained once more, as he had yet to realize it was his team who surrounded him.

She moved down his body and cut the bindings around his knees and feet, liberating the injured man from the hem rope. As soon as he was freed from his bonds, he curled further up into fetal position, still not entirely convinced that this was all a cruel ploy to terrorize him further.

Seeing that the injured blond continued to shake, she took of her bulletproof vest, followed by hear leather jacket, which she tenderly laid spread over his naked torso, covering most of his legs also, thanks to the position he was in.

She wanted nothing more than to look into his beautiful, ocean blue eyes to try and give some comfort, but he continued to keep his back to her, his chin tucked securely against his chest, in a subconscious attempt to appear as small as possible.

"Deeks, you're safe now," she tried again, now that he was unrestrained. "It's me… It's Kensi."

"K-Kens?" He sniffled through his sobbing.

"Yeah, it's me." She told him, before attempting to gently place her hand on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, but he didn't pull away this time, after a moment she could feel his tense muscles start to relax ever so slightly, as she continued to draw circles with her thumb, whilst mumbling soothing nonsense to him.

"Y-You shouldn't b-be here," he told her suddenly, his voice trembling with fright that Scarface would return to torment her as well.

"We're safe, Marty," she deliberately used his first name, knowing she didn't use it often, but when she did, she made it count. "You're safe."

"Safe?" He croaked disbelievingly at the word, his broken voice pulling at her heartstrings.

"Yeah, you're safe now," she confirmed.

She looked at her two colleagues, who were staring at the beaten detective, their expressions sad and concerned, but she could see the burning anger beneath. "When's the ambulance here?" She asked them.

"Any minute now," Callen answered softly.

She felt his muscles instantly tense at the sound of the male voice, and turned her attention back to her boyfriend. "It's okay Marty… It's just Callen and Sam, no one is going to hurt you anymore, okay?"

"O-okay," he finally managed to stutter out through his shaky voice.

They could start to hear a siren in the distance, and all assumed, and hoped, that it was the much needed ambulance for their beaten friend, Sam signaled that he would go out to wait for them, making sure to do so wordlessly, as he, too, had picked up on Deeks' tension upon hearing Callen's voice.

Kensi continued to murmur nonsensical things to him, as the sound of her voice seemed to have a soothing effect on him. The trembling had somewhat subsided, as he tried to focus on the voice he knew and loved, its warmth bringing forth a faint hope that it was all over.

She heard Sam ordering someone around in the distance, and relief washed over her at the thought the paramedics had finally arrived to care for her boyfriend. Knowing his agitated state in mind, she started preparing him, "Marty, the EMTs are on their way, they'll have to move you, so you can go to the hospital, okay?"

Upon seeing a small nod, she continued, "I know you don't really like other voices right now, but they won't hurt you. Can you try and answer their questions, please?"

Another small nod.

"Good, that's good. Thank you," she told him. "Here they are," she informed him of the men's arrival to the room.

She felt him tense underneath her touch once again, when he was able to hear the new voices enter the room.

As she moved away from him to give the paramedics room to work, his trembling increased tenfold. He started to sob uncontrollably, as fear of being at the mercy of someone else overtook him.

Kensi chastised herself for parting from him, and quickly moved back to his side, murmuring assurances into his ear, as her hand tenderly moved up and down his arm. She felt him slowly relax once more, and as such, she nodded to the paramedics, who had taken a step back.

The trained medical professionals worked around the woman at his side, and were quickly ready to get the timid man onto the gurney. Even though he had wordlessly told Kensi that he would answer the men's questions, he had been unable to find his voice, causing all answers to be through a slight head movement. The EMTs had done an amazing job by adapting their inquiries to only include 'yes' or 'no' questions.

"Kens?" He called his weak voice searched for her, fear evident in his voice.

She was already at his side, but instead of grabbing the gurney, she grabbed a hold of his hand, "I'm right here, Marty. I'm not leaving you."

The word 'again' floated through her mind, as flashbacks to the previous time her strong and confident partner had been abused by the hands of a maniac. That time she had been forced to leave him, it didn't matter to her that it was a case of national security, no, she had left the best part of her life tied to that chair, even though he had begged her to free him. She was steadfast on never making that mistake twice, and as such, gave his hand a supportive squeeze to let him know she was still there, since she was not sure how lucid he currently was.

He squeezed back weakly in appreciation, bringing forth a tearful smile on the female agent, as she moved alongside the gurney back out through the building and towards the ambulance.

...

"Which hospital are they bringing Mr. Deeks to?" A voice behind them asked, startling both the technical geniuses.

They had been so fixated on the anguished, mostly one-sided conversation Kensi had had with her partner to notice that their operations manager had entered into the technical room.

"Cedars-Senai Medical Center, I'm pretty sure." Nell managed to croak out without looking at the elder woman. She was still staring intently at the screen showing footage from the traffic camera, where the ambulance should soon be making an appearance. Her lip quivered as she tried to control her emotions.

"I know that what you have just heard was quite disturbing," their operations manager acknowledged their emotional turmoil. "But I need you two to help coordinate the tactical team, in order to get the bastard who did this to our Mr. Deeks."

"Yeah of course. No, we, uhm, we can do that," Eric was the first to regain composure and assure his boss, too stupefied to pick up on the first swear word he had ever heard coming form his boss' mouth.

"Good," she nodded. "I will make a call to Director Vance and Owen to inform them of what has happened."

After the operations manager left, Eric looked concernedly at his coworker, "Are you okay?"

"Not really," she admitted somewhat bashfully, as she blinked to keep the tears from coming.

He pulled his pixie-like coworker into a tight hug. "Yeah… Me neither," he responded after a deep sigh.

...

She was sitting in the back of the ambulance, holding his hand tight, as if he could be ripped away from her at any time. She watched his chest's rhythmical rise and fall, needing the constant reminder that he was still with them, even though the man she had seen back in the dreaded warehouse was only a shell of his former self. But she steadfastly believed that since the shell was mostly intact, they could help the man recover what had been damaged and broken within. She had to believe that.

It hadn't taken long for him to drift off into drug-filled hibernation, as the older of the paramedics had given him some morphine to dull his pain. There wasn't a whole lot for the EMTs to do, seeing as his injuries were mostly superficial contusions or small wounds where the skin had broken, and as such, it either didn't require any immediate attention, or it wasn't feasible to treat in the ambulance. Instead, they had made the choice to alleviate his pain, rather than ask him questions, which could either wait, or could be wordlessly answered by the plethora of visible red marks, welts, and dark bruises on the slumbering man's body, whose torso and legs were now covered by a thin, white blanket.

Even though he was currently in the land of the unconscious, she could tell that he was afflicted from the horror he had experienced. She could see his uninjured eye moving rapidly beneath his closed eyelid, his eyebrows furrowed as deep creases formed on his sweaty forehead.

They had discovered that he was running a fever, when the younger of the paramedics, who had introduced himself to Kensi as Felix, had taken the man's temperature. It had measured thirty-eight and a half degrees Celsius, which was a degree and a half higher than what the normal body temperature should be. The man had looked for potential causes for an infection, and had found his source on the bottom of the injured detective's feet.

The injury had been unbeknownst to Kensi, as they had not thought to look at the soles of her boyfriend's feet, but Felix had discovered the semi-deep lacerations, where, even if ignoring the nasty welts, the surrounding tissue was red, swollen, and with a slight hint of pus forming, a clear sign of inflammation.

Her gaze continued to drift between his bruised and beaten face and then back to the rhythmical rise of his chest. She studied his face closely, his mouth and nose covered by an oxygen mask, as the EMTs had noticed a wheezing in his breathing. She tried to keep her composure, which was slipping away from her little by little.

She had seen the overwhelming amount of marks on his body, and shuddered at the thought of how the best part of her life had been subjected to such horribleness. That was without thinking of the psychological terror, she was sure he had had to endure based off his frightened reaction to his own team. She was able to get through to him and offer some comfort, but any male voices he heard instantly had him tense, she had seen that both with Callen and Felix.

Thoughts continued to wander through the whole scenario she had seen in that dark room, before they finally settled to where they found him. That horrible, tiny box that had acted as Deeks' personal, cramped prison. The thought at the terror her boyfriend must have endured, lying in that inhumanly small and dark box was her undoing, as her watery eyes finally gave in and tears started to slowly dribble down her soft cheeks.

...

The two senior agents had stayed behind at the scene, as they waited for local law enforcement officers as well as a crime scene team. They decided on waiting outside the building, seeing as the inside brought forth terrible thoughts in both men, and they still needed to attempt to rein in the anger, which subsided just underneath the surface in both men.

Anger at the condition they had found their friend in. Anger at the man who had subjected him to it. But most of all, anger that they had not had a single clue, what was going on throughout the entire night, before they finally started looking for him late in the morning…The day after he was taken.

They knew the last part was not their fault, there was no way they could have known that anything had happened to the man, whom they had both come to see as family. But the rational part of their brains didn't function at that moment, and as such, both were content with the anger and self-loathing over having done nothing for the young liaison officer.

They had turned off their earwigs some time after the paramedics had left with their two coworkers. Because of that, their silence was interrupted when Callen's phone started ringing. He quickly looked at the caller, before pulling the device to his ear.

"What do you got, Eric?" He didn't bother with a greeting.

"We uhm," the technical operator started unsurely. "We've lost Troyger."

So: Your thoughts? I hope the angst made up for any lack of "action".