A/N: As I was writing this chapter, the song, STAND by Rascal Flatts kept playin' in my head. Not sure if it fits the entire chapter, but you might see what I mean by the time we get to the end.

WARNING: Dark themes and language.

"I want him back in the field as soon as possible. I think it will be good for him," Pride kept his voice low as he stood in LaSalle's kitchen, tending to a frying pan filled with scrambled eggs. Beside it sat a saucepan of white country gravy and in the oven, a baking sheet with fresh homemade biscuits. It was Chris' first full day back in New Orleans and he wanted to be certain that his young friend started the day off right.

Turning the burner down, Pride stepped away from the stove, continuing his conversation with Director Vance. "No, Leon, listen to me. You don't know Christopher like I do. He can do this."

Getting LaSalle back into a normal day to day routine was on the top of the senior agent's list. First and foremost, that included the younger man going back to work. If Chris could fill his mind with the on-goings of a case, then there would be little time for him to dwell on other things, at least in Pride's way of thinking.

"I understand what you're saying but hear me when I say this you're also the one wanted to write LaSalle off as dead!" Pride ended the call, tossing the hapless Samsung to the counter. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have bothered trying to ask for Director Vance's permission, but it just so happened that he was backed into a corner.

Per Leon's request, Carolyn had sent a report that suggested that the agency use extreme caution when deciding whether or not, Chris LaSalle would ever be ready for to resume his position as a field agent. Her recommendation, that a he wait at least a year.

A year.

Chris would be dead in year if he didn't have his work to fall back on.

Pride heard the squeak of the hinges from the French doors in the bedroom and quickly turned around, presenting his best smile. "Mornin' Christopher. How'd ya sleep?" he asked already knowing the answer.

Not well. More than once, he heard his young friend wake up with a loud start. It had taken every ounce of Pride's being not to bolt off of the couch and go charging into the bedroom. He'd wanted to save his surrogate son, face. When he'd awoken however, he did manage to peek in on Chris and found him sleeping on the floor, curled up on the area rug in front of the window.

"Terrible, you?" LaSalle figured there was no sense in beating around the brush as he made his way toward the coffee pot.

"The same," Pride answered. "But I got some eggs and fresh biscuits for ya, grab a plate and eat up. We've got lots to do today."

Chris tossed his friend a tight grin as he filled his cup and reached for a couple of sugar packets that he kept sitting in a bowl next to the toaster. "Listen, King you don't have to do all of this."

Pride palmed the island counter top, leaning forward. After what he'd learned at the hospital, there was no way he was going to let Chris fend for himself. Together, they were going to take it one step at a time. "Well, maybe I want to." He teased not wanting to seem overly concerned.

But truthfully, he was terrified for Chris. The only way to be certain that he wouldn't go catatonic again was to stay with him. Chris had survived the man who tried to break him into a sniveling pile of dust and Dwayne Pride would be damned if we're going to lose him to depression and PTSD.

"Ok," LaSalle presented a fake version of his trademark smile. He knew better than to argue at this point of the sick game the game the monster had him forced to play. For now he would do everything that Pride asked of him, hoping to earn back the man's respect.

Not that he'd ever lost it. It was more of his own inner demons and broken self-esteem making him feel that way.

"So, what's first on the list?"

"Breakfast and you will eat all of it," Pride answered making Chris shake his head, the notion of how much he actually enjoyed food coming back to him.

"No problem there, King."

"Then after you shower and shave, we're going to get you a haircut." Pride would make certain to steer clear of any places that used straight razors to avoid any triggers that might set off Chris' PTSD.

"And if you're up to it, we'll stop by and see Loretta. Sebastian's optional," Pride quipped.

Chris' jaw clenched. He could never find fault in Miss Loretta, she was as good and sweet as they came it was the idea of having to face another person who would look at him with a pair of sympathetic eyes, as Merri Brody had yesterday afternoon. Not that he could find fault in Brody either.

Her eyes had said, I feel so sorry for you would no doubt come with tip-toeing around and overcompensating to make forced conversation.

"Loretta is a prerequisite to working your way up to Cade and your mother." Pride added as gently as he could, hoping to appeal to the side of Chris that still held a sense of duty to family above all others.

Chris gave a slight nod, his stomach turning at the thought of facing his biological family. He'd always been the strong one, the fighter of the family, the good son. Well, had been the good son, right up to the point that he'd up and moved to New Orleans and became a police officer instead of using his college degree to join his father in the oil fields.

But that was rather an insignificant point at the moment, "Cade first, and then Mom."

"However, you want to play it." Pride returned moving toward the oven to fetch the biscuits.

He'd already spoken to Cade about stepping up and taking on a role reversal where Chris was concerned. It was high time the man started giving back to his baby brother.

But that too would come in time. For now, Pride was content with having Chris do simple day to day things, like interacting with people, getting back up in the saddle again.

"I noticed you haven't said any about Percy," Chris plucked a hot biscuit from the cookie sheet as Pride set it on the counter, earning a skeptical look.

Pride hadn't purposely avoided mentioning the pint sized fireball. As previously stated, he needed her on that murder case. But like Brody, he at times he had his reservations, "Again it's up to you, but just so that you know she put just as much into finding you as Brody and I did. She proved herself a real team player."

Chris said nothing, though he had expected nothing less of their new team member. Percy tended to come off a bit arrogant and self-serving at times, but overall she was good people. Damn good agent too when she was thinking about her teammates.

"If it's all right with you, after we see Miss Loretta I'd like to go to the shoot'n range."

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" Now it was Pride who was sporting the fake grin. As much as he wanted Chris back at work, he was leery about putting a gun into his hands so soon.

"I'm ready, King." Chris replied with conviction, knowing Pride's desire. "That and I heard ya on the phone." He had heard Pride's comment about Vance writing him off for dead. It wasn't hard to guess that it had been Director Vance that Pride had been talking to considering he had to sign a waiver for his medical records to be sent to NCIS Headquarters in Washington D.C. But he could hardly blame the man for thinking the way he had. Six years ago, when Cade had failed to show up for Christmas dinner, gone missing, Chris had thought him dead long before the calendar flipped passing through the first month.

"I don't want to push ya, Chris," Now Pride was backpedaling from where minutes ago, he'd been arguing trying to get Vance to support the idea.

"You're not, like you said, it'll be good for me tuh get back to work." Chris replied, distantly not sure that he really believe that being back in the field would help.

"All right then. But your service weapon is at the office in the filing cabinet. We'll have to stop by there and get it."

LaSalle pulled his lips into a thin line. He'd noticed the P228 was missing from the lock box where he kept it in the top of the wardrobe. Doubtless, it was the first thing he'd looked for after arriving home. At first, he'd tried to convince himself it was a comfort issue, a security blanket of sorts if you will, but deep down it was frighteningly more than that.

It was the one thing that could separate him from the monster forever.

"Smile, make eye-contact," Pride reminded when they passed through the outer doors to the morgue into Loretta's autopsy suite. The motherly medical examiner had just finished up with the body of a middle aged man who had died from natural causes, while operating heavy equipment. A heart attack, while driving a heavy crane, luckily no one had been injured when the vehicle spun out of control in the middle of a work zone.

Chris felt his stomach flip-flop and his eyes avert to the floor when Loretta smiled at him. He didn't want to be looking at the floor he thought as Pride's put his hand on his shoulder. It just happened, an automatic response of his damaged psyche.

"Keep your head up." Pride said, through a smile of his own, making Chris automatically obey. Judging by the look on the happy medical examiner's face, she'd been expecting them. Obviously, this was a staged visit.

Not that Chris minded.

"Dwayne, Christopher," Loretta's happy grin grew as she approached the dynamic duo, focusing her attention on Chris. Merri had already filled in her about the possible triggers that could occur and his reluctance to be around people, so she knew not to do anything that might set him off. She'd even taken the large analog clock down from the wall so that it wouldn't be a distraction.

"Christopher, let me look at you," she breathed, like a proud mother who hadn't seen her child in ages. "May I hug you?" she asked trying to make her reintroduction as non-threatening as possible. She probably shouldn't ask for the hug, but to not seemed unnatural.

"Yes, Ma'am," Chris sucked in a deep breath, holding it as she gently placed her arms around his neck.

"My dear boy, I'm so glad that you're home and safe." She would leave out the part that she prayed every night on her knees to every entity known to man for his return. Whichever God ruled the universe, he'd granted her prayer, or maybe they all had either way she owed them a debt of gratitude.

Chris squeezed his eyes tight as she kissed him on the cheek before releasing him and quickly springing into business mode. "Dwayne, I found something very interesting about your Lance Corporal, Schmidt."

"Our Marine who was electrocuted?" Pride tossed out for Chris' benefit. Though he couldn't officially involve the junior agent, he could use the facts as possible talking points to engage Chris into possibly using his expertise and connect the various pieces of evidence. The conversation alone would help put the agent on the road he needed to be and back in the game.

"He may have been electrocuted but that wasn't the cause of death." Loretta continued. "Upon examination, I noticed something lodged in his throat, a large wad of chewing gum, almost a ping-pong ball sized worth to be exact."

"Chewing gum?" Pride's brow furrowed as he looked back at Chris.

"Yes," Loretta continued and it had a distinct smell; anise.

"Licorice?" Chris swallowed, his hands starting to shake. The monster, Gabriel had chewed licorice flavored gum; it was on his breath constantly and Chris' mind was already recalling the smell. Balling his hands, he waited until Pride and Loretta started discussing the possibility of affixation and quietly slipped out. He knew that given his surrogate father's watchful eye it would only be a few seconds before Pride realized that he'd suddenly gone missing.

But he needed a moment. Probably more than a moment, he thought, his stomach lurching. He really needed to get out of here. His chest tight, he was starting to feel like he couldn't breathe, he couldn't get enough air.

The side door would put him on the east side of the parking area, from there he could walk to the SUV (drive away, he had the keys). Taking in deep almost hiccupping breaths, he turned down the first hallway. From the corner of his eye he saw someone coming at him fast from out of a doorway.

The someone called out his name, but it didn't register. Nausea was coming in big, violent, waves now, like he was going to be sick. He couldn't breathe, he was going to sick.

This was not good.

"LaSalle!" they called out again, but by this time, there were hands grabbing at him, arms wrapping around him, long lanky arms, pulling him into a big ol' bear hug that he couldn't comprehend. All he knew was that his nervous system was on overload right now, making him sick. He was suffocating.

Gabriel had his hands on him, big, binding, calloused hands, choking the life out of him. This was it, this time it was really it.

"Lem'me go!" Reacting blindly, Chris shoved the tall, beanpole of a figure into the wall. He needed to get away, but the thud of the body hitting the wall and then sliding to the dull white tiled flooring made him hesitate. The tall lanky figure, it was Lund.

Sebastian just sat there looking up at him, his glasses sitting lopsided on his face. "Glad you're back?" the lab geek managed quizzically as Chris darted out the side door, making a run for the nearest trash can before falling hopelessly to his knees.

Chris felt like an idiot sitting there on the bench, breathing into a bag, Pride perched beside him.

"It's only the first day." Pride said, softly, his hand hovering over the back of Chris' neck. Desperately, he wanted to touch him, offer his comfort, but he didn't dare. He'd just spent the last ten minutes, coaxing him off the ground.

"Maybe we should forego the shooting range for the today, save it for tomorrow?" Pride placed his forearms on his thighs, looking directly at the younger agent as he pulled the standard brown lunch bag from his face, eyebrows knitted in an angry fashion.

"No, I need tuh do this." Chris said, rising up slightly. Now that he could breathe again, he was angry, embarrassed too, but mostly angry at himself for letting the monster get inside in his head.

The monster was always inside his head, living there as if an actual person had set up camp and moved in for the soul purpose of fucking with him.

He needed to find a way to control, the PTSD which evidently had the power to knock him on his ass when it wanted to with it's horrifying, unexpected, flashbacks. "I need tuh go shoot'n! He told Pride a bit wild eyed, but determined. He needed his gun. Yes, he needed it. If nothing else, he could visualize that the target was Gabriel's face and use it to dispel some of the out of control emotion he was feeling.

It would be helpful, it would. It had to.

"Shooting range it is." Pride's reply came out in a big uncertain whoosh. After what he'd just witness he wasn't sure that Chris didn't belong in a padded room. He hated to admit that there was a possibility that Carolyn was right and he wouldn't. He wouldn't give up on Chris, not now, not ever. "But we'll use blanks." Blanks would make sure that Chris didn't put the gun to his head.

Blanks? Chris pursed his lips, tight before relenting. "As long as the blanks can cut through the paper."

"I'll make sure they will," Pride promised, pulling to his feet.

A/N: You get mad, you get strong, wipe your hands, shake it off and then you stand... Do you think LaSalle is ready to stand? And Loretta? Who just doesn't love her?