Disclaimer: Nope, don't own NCIS.

A/N: This chapter has a flashback and a few more explanations...

Brody had been in tough situations before. She'd done more than one undercover op, most only lasting a couple days, but she had been part of a ten month stint once. It didn't go as planned either. She had almost been killed that time as well.

As Merri looked around her surroundings, taking in what little she could see while bound to the chair, she realized that there were few means of escape. There were no windows and only the single door, which Pub had securely locked from the outside. There wasn't much decor either. Only a long table behind her that she could just barely see out of the corner of her eye when she turned her head.

At the other end of the room was a smaller desk that looked old and worn, probably a leftover from when the building was in use by the storage company like much of the furniture throughout the building, and sitting on top was a tackle box. What was inside she could only guess. A few tattered rags and military issue blankets were also piled not far from the desk. As she studied the pile of material she noted a few dark stains on one of the blankets that looked suspiciously like blood stains. The air was stale, even more so than in the rest of the building, and she doubted the room had much ventilation. There was also the distinct smell of mold and mildew, though she didn't see evidence of any right away.

She shifted in the chair, the wire digging into her wrists deeper in the process, and tested the chair's stability. It wasn't as old as the rest of the furniture apparently and didn't seem willing to give. It barely moved when she tried to scoot backwards and she had a suspicion that the legs were weighted down to prevent any tipping or moving.

Merri relaxed against the back of the chair and stared ahead at the door. She knew that eventually help would come. The plan had been to lure Keven and the others off their usual turf and into a trap. They'd be caught red-handed trying to steal confiscated drugs. She had planned on going with them, but had been left behind. Once Pride realized she wasn't present he and LaSalle would no doubt come to find her though. It was only a matter of time that depended largely on how long it took to take down Keven and the others.

Her main concern at the moment was for Agent Calla. She had no way of knowing if he was even still alive. With Pub around it was hard to say. The plan had definitely not gone as planned on her end.

"You're staying here, Lefty," Keven stated as they prepared to leave.

Merri stopped and frowned in confusion. "What? Why?"

Keven pointed in the direction where Pub had taken the DEA agent.. "You can keep an eye on our new guest."

"But I can go with you and..."

"No. You're staying. Do you have a problem with that?" Keven asked menacingly, his eyes darkening as he took a threatening step forward.

She glanced over in the direction Pub had taken Agent Calla and back. Calla getting captured hadn't been part of the plan and neither was staying behind at the warehouse. If she stayed she could get the DEA agent out and leave though. It wasn't the plan, but under the circumstances it'd have to do. "No. No problem, Keven."

"Good." He gave a brief nod, just as Pub returned, and turned back around to lead everyone out of the warehouse. "Let's go."

Brody watched them go for a moment and waited until she was sure they'd had time to leave before turning and making her way to where Pub had put Calla. She jogged down the corridor until she reached the room and used the key that Pub had tossed to her to unlock the door. Pushing the door opened, she immediately spotted Calla tied to a chair with his hands bound to the armrests. He looked a little roughed up, she could just make out a patch of blood matted hair, but not too badly.

"Hey," she greeted, moving straight towards him. "Give me a minute and I'll have you out of here." She crouched down in front of Calla's chair and began untying the ropes holding his hands to the chair's armrests. "Just hang in there, Calla. We'll be out of here soon."

"Brody..."

"Almost done."

"Brody," he repeated more urgently.

She glanced up to see him staring at something behind her. She tensed reflexively and started to turn, but the barrel of a gun suddenly pressed against the back of her head stopped any further movement.

"A friend of yours, Lefty?"

She recognized Pub's voice instantly and mentally cursed. Keven must have sent him back to stay behind as well. The plan just kept getting more complicated.