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Callen remained seated on the bottom step of the basement stairs and rubbed his hand over his head. His fingers found the sticky patch of blood from where he'd been pistol whipped earlier, and he was thankful the nausea and dizziness had now vanished. He needed to get Deeks to stop focusing on his time with the Campbell's and instead concentrate on why they'd been captured and how they were going to escape.
Deeks studied the Senior NCIS Agent and wished Sam was here. They each knew their respective partners so well, yet to a certain extent they all remained an enigma to each other; none more so than Callen – mainly because he knew so little about himself. And the most Deeks knew about Callen was that he grew up in foster homes, had trust issues, preferred to go it alone whenever things got personal and lived in a house with nothing worth stealing. On a day to day level they worked in a similar way, both preferring to bend the rules where needed. On a personal level – well Deeks could relate to an abusive childhood, but at least he knew exactly where he came from and who he was. Callen had already had little choice but to reveal snippets of information about his experience with the Campbell's, and Deeks thought he would try to press the point again.
"So what happened to you at the Campbell's?" Deeks repeated his earlier question.
"It doesn't matter." Callen replied as he broke away from Deeks' stare and studied his hands, pressing his fingers and thumbs together nervously.
"I think it does matter. Why else would your photo and writing - both pieces of evidence which are now in your pockets by the way - be in this room?" Deeks spoke pointedly to Callen. It seemed the direct approach was the only approach in this situation.
"So what about you, then?" Callen attempted to shift the focus onto Deeks. "It's you that's highlighted in the team photo and newspaper article, not me. If I wasn't with you, you'd have no idea I'm connected to this case."
"Callen, your name is all over that handwritten piece of paper, as is the name of your social worker and Maria Campbell's..." Deeks hated to point out the obvious to his team leader, but he needed to knock some sense in to him somehow.
Callen stared defensively at Deeks. It seemed their earlier arguments were re-surfacing and neither was willing to back down. Callen stood up to avoid Deeks effectively talking down to him again, and suddenly the lights went out.
"Oh man!" Deeks exclaimed. "You've gotta be kidding me."
And the lights flickered on again, then off, then on and continued to flicker on and off at a fast unrelenting pace.
"I hope you're not epileptic." Deeks asked, half in jest.
"No, but I think this may bring back my concussion." Callen replied grimly as he made his way to the top of the basement stairs.
He tried the handle again, barged his shoulder against the door, but nothing would give. He turned round and walked back down, the jarring light making his movements almost surreal.
"This would be really cool if there was music, drink and girls. But I get the feeling this is designed to drive us crazy." Deeks said as remained where he was and watched his moving hands judder under the flickering lights.
"Yeah well it's gonna work unless we can find a way to stop this." Callen said.
"But how?" Deeks asked, raising his hands as he asked the question, again faintly amused by seeing his hands move in the flickering light.
"I don't know," replied Callen as he began to search the edges of the room for any switches to power off the electricity supply.
Two hours later and the lights were still flashing. They had soon stopped walking around the room as the lighting was causing them to stumble and both men began experiencing dizziness and nausea. Callen sat quietly in the corner, his eyes closed and head between his bent knees. He attempted to mentally shut out the sensory overload effect of the strobes and had advised Deeks to do the same.
Deeks sat on his haunches with his head in his hands as he tried to follow Callen's advice; however the flickering lights were still burning through his eyelids. He opened his eyes and looked at Callen, who seemed to have totally removed himself from this torture. Deeks squeezed his eyes tight shut again, covered his face with his hands and thought of Kensi. Maybe she could magic him away from this basement, but his mind kept wandering...where was Kensi, had she been captured, was she being subjected to something similar or worse? Ok, thought Deeks, thinking of Kensi was not helping. The ocean and surfing was a safer bet. Deeks concentrated on Surfrider Beach in Malibu and transported himself to the last time he was there, riding the waves.
After a few minutes of mind-surfing, Deeks sensed a change in the room. He tentatively opened his eyes. The strobe lighting has ceased. In its place was darkness.
"Callen?" Deeks asked cautiously.
His question went unanswered and he looked to where he had last seen his colleague. If he squinted, he thought he could see the faint outline of Callen, a darker form in the blackness.
"Callen?" Deeks asked in a louder voice as he shuffled across and tentatively poked Callen on the upper arm.
He felt Callen jump and Deeks moved back swiftly to avoid an anticipated punch or kick. He felt a rush of air as whichever of Callen's limbs passed within an inch of him.
"Hey, Callen, you good?" Deeks was slightly concerned with how Callen had managed to just remove himself entirely from their current situation. Was that his normal behaviour, he wondered.
"Yeah, sorry," came the reply from Callen.
"What the hell is going on here?" Deeks asked.
"Psychological torture, CIA style." Callen replied, stretching out the sentence to emphasise each word.
"And you know this, how?" Deeks regretted the question as soon as he had uttered the words.
"I used to be CIA, remember? I'm trained." Callen responded.
"Trained to what" Deeks asked pointedly. "Commit torture or resist it?"
"Both," was the short and blunt answer.
"OK, that's good I think." Deeks said. "So what's next?"
"Days and weeks of sleep deprivation, non-stop noise, isolation...there's usually an objective, an endgame." Callen trailed off as he considered what the endgame could possibly be, and why.
"So if Maria Campbell's behind this, then –"
"She is," Callen interrupted. "Without a doubt. She's connected you to me and is scared that we'll talk and she'll end up in prison."
"But it would never go to trial due to the double jeopardy clause - unless there was more than just the one crime of physical abuse, which was the only charge at the time." Deeks knew the likelihood of Maria Campbell going to trial again for abuse was not really possible. And with her being instrumental in abducting two Federal Agents, the chances of her even escaping alive were diminishing with every passing minute.
"Does the psychological abuse of vulnerable children count as a different charge?" Callen said reluctantly.
"No violence?" Deeks asked, well aware that psychological violence went hand in hand with physical abuse. He was glad they were under the cover of darkness. Without the ability to see each other, it seemed Callen was a little more willing to talk.
"Not with the Campbell's. Well not really," Callen added as there had only been the one physical encounter during his time there.
Deeks was surprised that there was no violence, although he wondered at the 'not really' from Callen. From his point of view there was no grey area when it came to domestic abuse and he was surprised Callen didn't share that standpoint.
"Did you know Maria Campbell had a degree in child psychology?" He asked.
"No," Callen replied slowly as he recalled the bookcase at the Campbell's. "I mean they had books on all that but I thought they were just normal books on raising children or to do with Mr Campbell's work. I think he was a college lecturer."
"Yeah, he lectured in Literature, Callen. Maria is, was a psychologist. Maybe that's how she managed to fool me..." Deeks shook his head feeling ashamed that he hadn't sensed that Maria Campbell was anything other than a sweet old lady. From what little Callen had revealed it seemed that he'd sensed something was off when he first met her.
"Was there any other types of abuse?" Deeks felt guilty even asking, and was even more glad the lights were still out.
Callen shook his head, although the gesture was futile in the dark. "No," he answered.
As if on cue, the lights flickered on. And this time stayed on. Both agents blinked heavily and rubbed their eyes as the light assaulted their senses.
"So how long will they stay on this time?" Deeks asked.
"Hard to tell, maybe for the next few days..."
"Sleep deprivation." Deeks got up and stretched. "If I had known I'd have asked you to plan that op for yesterday morning. At least I could have gotten my eight hours of beauty sleep, not that I need it of course, being the only naturally handsome man in the room right now."
Callen stood too and wandered around. "Must make me super-naturally handsome."
Deeks turned to Callen. "Really? Is this the level of conversation you have with Sam? And you call me childish!" He shook his head and smiled. "I think we need to ditch Kensi and Sam and partner up ourselves..."
Callen raised his eyebrows. "Interesting theory, but I think I'll pass."
"Why, what's wrong with me?" Deeks asked the deliberately leading question.
"Where d'ya want me to start?" Callen replied seamlessly.
"See, we have the banter down to a fine art already." Deeks said, before changing the subject abruptly in a hope to throw Callen and again force him to open up. "So how does this compare to the way the Campbell's treated you as a kid?"
"The photos and that paper I wrote as a kid are in line with the mind games she played, but the rest doesn't really add up." Callen said as he leant against the table, staring again at the collage of photos opposite. It would be very neat and convenient to attribute all this to Maria Campbell, he thought, but breaking an eight year old was very different to what was going on here. He had to finally it to himself and to Deeks, but something larger was at play. "This is half-assed hi-tech, federal agency style imitation torture. She's gotten help from someone, from somewhere...I know she's connected to this, but something else is going on here. I just can't work out what or why..."
"So what did she do to you?" Deeks asked outright, determined to get some straight answers out of Callen.
Callen dropped his shoulders as he let out a breath he did not realise he was holding. He focused on the photos and trawled back through the memories he had tried so hard to repress.