All - well one day late, but reasonably on time. This is a bit of a transitional chapter, but I do want to provide a crass language and violence warning - let's just say things get a bit mean and salty. I really appreciate all of the kind words thus far. All typos are mine. Thanks for the support.
She watches him for several minutes before she finally approaches, her footsteps soft. Still, he hears her coming, and neither of them is completely sure whether that's intentional or not.
"Hetty," Callen says, deep exhaustion in his voice. "Don't imagine you brought something to drink with you? Preferably something hard."
She smiles slightly. "I don't think it would be a smart time to allow for the mind altering effects of alcohol."
"Maybe not," he agrees. "But it'd sure make me feel better."
"Me, too," she admits.
"Done talking to Nate?" he asks.
"Yes. Ms. Blye pretty much confirmed Lieutenant Sanchez's story in full."
"Damn," Callen mutters, shaking his head. "I guess I'd been hoping…nevermind." Then, looking behind her. "Where's Sam?" he asks. "You didn't…you didn't leave him alone with Sanchez did you?"
"Do I look daft, Mr. Callen?"
He simply smiles.
"Exactly. No, I sent him to get some coffee for us from a little shop about half a mile away."
"I bet he jumped right on that one," Callen chuckles.
"You'd be surprised," she responds. "I think just as you needed to step out and clear your head for a moment, so does he."
"Yeah."
"We weren't wrong, Mr. Callen."
"To send her in?"
"She was ready."
"Yeah, and unfortunately, Kassel made her prove it," he replies bitterly, turning to look at the water.
"We have all done things we didn't want to in order to survive."
"You don't have to tell me that, Hetty. I know."
"I know you do, but I need you to listen to me anyway. Ms. Blye did something she felt she had no choice but to do in order to save her partners' life and to save the operation. She needs you to understand that because the chances are, that's the only way she can rationalize her actions in her own mind."
"She didn't have a choice, Hetty. That's my problem. This wasn't a difficult choice where if she says no, everything just takes a little bit longer to get done. She was forced. We can call it whatever we'd like…"
"She calls it taking care of her partner, and that's what she needs us to call it."
"And who makes sure that she's okay underneath all of the lies?"
"For now, we'll leave that to Nate."
It's clear he doesn't like what she's saying, but finally, he mutters, "I really want to drop that guy into the middle of a prison yard somewhere and scream cop."
"I presume you're speaking about Lieutenant Sanchez?" Off his nodded reply, she continues. "While I understand completely, Mr. Callen, I feel that I must remind you that now is not the time for vengeance."
He turns to face her. "How do you always stay so calm? She's one of ours, Hetty. So is Deeks. That little bastard in there –"
"I know what that monster did to them, and believe me when I tell you that I am feeling everything that you are and more. But there is a time and a place for these emotions, and it is not now."
"Understood."
"Good. Then shall we return to Lieutenant Sanchez?"
"Sam's not back yet."
"That may be for the best. I believe that Mr. Hanna is struggling with this even more than you are."
"You know how he feels about Kensi."
"Yes, and though he's loathe to admit it, he's taken Mr. Deeks under his wing as well. He feels a personal responsibility to and for both of them."
"We all do."
"Then let's turn those feelings towards getting the rest of this story, finding out where they're hiding Mr. Deeks, and bringing him home."
When Callen returns to the Interrogation Room, he finds Sanchez bent over the table, sweating slightly, clearly in pain.
At first, Sanchez refuses to pick up from where they'd left off previously, demanding something for the pain first. Finally, after several minutes of back and forth that ends with Callen assuring the former soldier that once he's told them the entire tale, his pain will be appropriately remedied, Sanchez once again begins to speak.
He knows exactly why Deeks wants to see him; he'd been with Kassel listening as Agent Blye had told her partner what had happened to her – what Kassel had done to her. He knows that the detective is furious; he just assumes that the cop will do what all pathetic white-hats do – piss and whine and throw out a lot of expletive laced empty threats.
In a weird almost bent kind of way, he's almost looking forward to the confrontation because for once, Paul Sanchez is pretty damn sure that he has the upper hand. After all, the cops need him more than he needs them. It's just that simple, and he figures Deeks had better get to understanding that right quick.
"Deeks," he grins as the blonde cop approaches him. Sanchez is standing under a rotted out dock in Pasadena, the rushing water stopping just a few inches away from his black boot clad feet. "How's your lovely partner doing this morning?"
He never sees it coming (though, of course, even he knows that he should have); Deeks pulls back and punches him hard across the face. The impact is violent and immediately painful. Sanchez tumbles to his knees, his hands touching the wet sand as he braces himself. He curses under his breath.
"Did you know he was going to do that to her?" Deeks demands.
Sanchez laughs. Almost immediately, he knows that it was the wrong thing to do, because Deeks gets an almost crazed look in his eyes.
Sanchez feels himself get lifted up, slammed back down, and then Deeks is atop him, hands around his throat, squeezing. "I asked you a question you little bastard. Did you fucking know that he was going to do that to her? Did you know?"
"Yes," Sanchez finally chokes out. "I knew."
"Why didn't you warn me?" Deeks asks, releasing his hands.
"I did warn you. I warned you not to cross me, and you didn't listen. You didn't listen and she paid for the price for it." For a moment, Deeks seems taken aback, and Sanchez uses it to his advantage, driving one of his fists directly into the cop's punch lands a bit high, just above Deek's left eye.
Deeks grunts and falls back, blinking as blood streams into his eyes. He puts his hand up, and feels a cut just above his eyebrow.
"I warned you," Sanchez says again, getting to his feet.
"What the hell are you playing at?" Deeks demands, also standing up. He moves towards Sanchez again.
"Whatever I want, Detective. You getting that yet?" It's like a rush of euphoria, this feeling of control.
Deeks looks back at him incredulously. "This isn't a game, Sanchez. And you're not a free man, and when this is over, you're going to prison."
"Just for a little while," Sanchez smirks. "And then I will be a free man again."
Deeks has him up against one of the pillars before he even knows what hit him.
"That depends on you," the cop tells him, voice low and furious. "You go near her again, you let your boss even consider touching her again, and I don't give a shit about your precious little sweetheart deal. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you spend the rest of your life behind bars if not in the ground, do you hear what I'm saying?"
"You'd think you'd have learned that threatening me is a bad idea, Detective."
"You're nothing but a sad and pathetic little man who thinks he has power because his boss does. I'm not afraid of you, Sanchez." Deeks slams him against the pillar as if to prove his point.
"Maybe not, but I bet she is."
"You wish." Deeks laughs, and there's a hint of derisive disgust in his tone. He releases his hold on Sanchez and steps back. "Now, as much as we both hate it, we have a job to do, and if I were you, I'd be very glad for it because it's the only keeping me from kicking the shit out of you right about now."
"That and you're a cop."
"I've forgotten that before," Deeks tells him, and there's a deadly seriousness to his tone, one that suggests that he might not be bluffing. "Trust me, I'd have no problem forgetting it again for you."
"You know how I know you're full of shit, Detective? Because you cops are all about the mission. Nothing is more important than that. That's why your hot little partner let my boss fuck her – for the mission, right?"
He sees Deeks clench his fists, and wonders if he again went too far. But then, that euphoric feeling is still surging through him. Even though he's feeling more than a little scared right now, Sanchez feels like he's completely in control.
"Believe what you want," Deeks growls, "But I promise you, you even look at her again and mission or no mission, it'll be the last time you look at anyone."
The two men stare at each other for a long moment before finally, Sanchez puts up his hands. "All right, all right. I hear you. I saw what I needed to anyway."
Refusing to once again rise to the bait, Deeks simply says, "Just remember what I said." And then he turns and walks away, heading back up the sand.
Sanchez watches him go, a hand straying up to touch his sore jaw. He's just about done with being pushed around by anyone, especially some idiot cop who thinks he's something special – who thinks he has power - just because he has a gun and badge. No, power comes from shows of deadly force and brutal violence. Kassel has taught him that, if nothing else. Seems maybe it's about time to let Deeks and his pretty little partner in on that secret.
He considers his sweetheart deal, and then disregards it, realizing that he's never really intended to allow himself to be locked away in a little box. Deep down, he figures, he's always known that he'd turn on the Feds and the cops given the chance. It's their fault for not expecting him to do it.
Now, all that's left to figure out is how to out the two cops without letting Kassel know that he'd been in on the op from the beginning.
Tricky, he thinks, but doable.
Sanchez laughs. "My move, Detective," he says.
"So what was your great plan?" Callen asks, making it quite clear with his tone that he doesn't actually think Sanchez capable of simple math much less a clever skin-saving plot.
"Hadn't come up with one yet," Sanchez shrugs. "Turns out I didn't need one."
"Kassel knew you were working with us?" Sam queries, stepping forward. He'd come into the room about halfway through Sanchez's description of his meeting with Deeks at the dock.
"Not exactly. I mean not then anyway. But what you gotta understand is, Kassel is a mean bastard, and when he hurts someone like he hurt your girl, he likes to watch the fall-out. He likes to stick close by and watch the pain. I forgot that."
Callen and Sam exchange a knowing look – the more they hear about Kassel, the more he seems to fit the profile of a narcissist sociopath. Which essentially means that he sees himself as the center of the universe, and everyone else around is there just to serve – or entertain – him.
"So you're saying he was having you watched so he could see how 'Jimmy' would react to what he'd done," Callen sums up.
"Yeah. And when the guy he had following me reported back what he'd seen and heard between Deeks and I…"
"Kassel figured out that your relationship with Deeks went a bit deeper than what he'd thought. Which means he figured out you were working with the cops."
"He suspected. Which is why he had Alejandro pick me up," Sanchez says bitterly. He rubs at his jaw, where there are still shadows of bruises several days old.
Sanchez enters the office slowly, ice in his gut. Ever since Alejandro had come to find him, saying that the Boss needed to see him immediately, he's had a feeling that something bad is about to go down. That Alejandro sticks around after the door to the office is closed does nothing to calm his fears.
"Sir? Was there something –"
"Are you working with the cops, Paul?" Kassel breaks in, getting right to the point.
Sanchez swallows hard. His mind whirls as he tries to come up with a believable lie, but the more seconds pass, the more he knows he's screwed.
"Oh, Paul," Kassel sighs, shaking his head dramatically. "Why?"
"It's not like I went to them. I'd never do that. I never wanted to do this," Sanchez blurts out, his words falling over each other.
"So why then?"
They picked me up. After that surfer kid tried to blackmail me, and you told me to take care of him. I did exactly as you asked, but then the cops came by – NCIS."
"NCIS," Kassel repeats. It's been many years since he's heard about that Federal agency, not since his short stint in the service way, way back.
"They told me either I help them or they'd throw me in jail. I panicked."
"Clearly. So Jimmy –"
"LAPD. It's a joint op between them and NCIS," Sanchez replies quickly.
"Interesting. And the girl? What is she? NCIS?" Off Sanchez nodding, Kasses muses, "Now that, I would never have suspected. Especially after her…performance yesterday." He scratches his chin, looking almost contemplative. "You realize what you've done, right?"
"Sir…"
Kassel nods to Alejandro, who suddenly kicks the leg of the chair Sanchez is in, causing him to fall to the ground. Before he has time to realize what's happened, Alejandro has him up and against the wall and has delivered two thunderously painful hits right to his mid-section, and another one to his jaw.
"You abused my trust and my generosity and willingly brought law enforcement into my business," Kassel says as he approaches. "You corrupted the team, Paul. And you – you of all people – know how that has to be dealt with."
"No!" Sanchez says quickly, between gasps. "Wait, wait, I can help."
"Help me with what?"
"Help you deal with the cops."
"Ah. So you think that's what's going to happen next, do you?"
"Like you said, Sir, I of all people know what has to be done to traitors," Sanchez says. "And I know you see me as one, but I had no choice."
"No choice? Really?"
"I can't go to prison. I can't." There's an almost pathetic pleading whine in his voice. "They'll kill me in there. I'll never survive."
"And you think you're going to survive betraying me. How interesting."
"I think…I think I can still be of use to you."
"How so?"
"Deeks…"
"That's the cop's name?"
"Yeah. Marty Deeks. Her name is Kensi Blye."
"Go on."
"I can lure Deeks and his partner out, lead them right into a trap. He'll never suspect a thing if I say I want to meet."
"Why wouldn't I just have them picked up at their apartment?"
"Because he's about to bug out. He and the girl, they're an actual couple. and he's all freaked out by what happened to her. I could tell that he wants to pull the plug. By tonight, I bet the apartment is empty."
Kassel nods thoughtfully, clearly intrigued. He holds up a hand to Alejandro. "Leave us."
"Yes, sir."
The door closes behind him, and Kassel turns back to Sanchez. "Your life or theirs, Paul. And let's be clear, I'm not sure you'll get to keep yours anyway."
"I won't let you down," Sanchez promises him.
"Oh, you already have. You let the whole team down. Time to make amends," Kassel tells him. His tone is almost like that of a disappointed father. It's almost enough to make Sanchez forget who this man really is.
Almost.
But he's worked for Kassel for too long, and he knows better than anyone how this works. He knows that the only way for him to be allowed to live is to essentially become what Alejandro is – a paid thug.
Well so be it then.
She sleeps for almost two hours after Nate leaves the room. When she comes to, quickly noticing that she's alone in the room, she doesn't feel any more rested. If anything, Kensi Blye feels like she's even more on edge.
"Hey, you're awake," she hears. She looks up to see Renko standing in the doorway, a can of some kind of super caffeinated energy drink in his hand. She sees the exhaustion in his eyes.
"Mike," she says softly. Her right hand lifts up, and she scratches at the bandage on the side of her head, suddenly seeming almost self-conscious. And perhaps she is a bit; this man is used to seeing her when she's tough as nails, not when she's lying on her back in a too-white, too-sterile hospital room.
"How you feeling, Kiddo?" he asks, stepping inside the room. He approaches her bed, and drops himself down into the chair next to it.
She smiles at him, tries to make it somewhat cocky because she figures that's what he wants to see. Needs to see. "Better every minute," she tells him. "Ready to go home to my place, and take a long hot bath."
"You know," he says, choosing to ignore the obvious insanity of her thinking she'll be going home anytime soon, "I have to admit, I was a bit surprised when you told us that you're a bubble bath kind of girl. I wouldn't have made you for it."
"Still a girl, Mike," she chuckles. It's a dry sound, and immediately, Renko reaches for her glass of water, adjusts the straw in it, and hands it to her.
"Drink," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. Especially the silly stubborn kind, which is what she's likely to offer up right now.
She sighs, and accepts the water, taking a few drops, just enough to lubricate her dry throat. She licks her lips, and then says, "I could use some Blistex."
"I'll pick you up some next time I wander down to the store," he promises.
"Thanks."
"So, seriously, how are you?" he presses after a few moments. He's keeping his eyes locked on hers, intentionally trying not to look at all of the bruises on her arms (especially the ones that look like they were made by male hands).
She shrugs.
"Not an answer."
"You sound like Nate. Speaking of, where is he?"
"Why? Sick of my company already?"
"No. Never."
"See, when you talk like that, I get to thinking I might have a chance."
"You don't," she laughs.
"Damn. Wait, what about if I ask you after they give you some painkillers?"
"That's just wrong."
"True, but I take what I can get."
They share a comfortable smile.
"So, Nate?" she asks again.
"I think he's still talking with the Callen and the others. They were debriefing."
"You mean they were comparing stories."
"Probably," he admits.
"I hate this," she says. "I hate that they're talking about me like I'm some kind of victim. I hate that they're thinking of me like that."
"After what you went through…"
"I'm here aren't I?" she cuts in, her voice rough and insistent.
"And thank God for that," Renko replies softly.
"Then I'm not a victim," she insists.
"I don't think dying is the only way to be a victim, Kens."
"You're not hearing me," she says, determination in her tone. "I am not a victim."
"I believe you," he tells her. "But that doesn't mean you weren't hurt."
"He's right, Kensi," Nate says as he enters the room. "Besides, there are two ways to think about the term 'victim'."
"First, don't shrink me, Nate and second, I'm neither."
"Well, first, it's my job to shrink you. And second, from the technical perspective, you are the definition of a victim of a crime, and there's absolutely no shame in admitting that," Nate replies.
"Yes, there is. I'm not a victim of anything or anyone," she nearly spits out.
Nate considers correcting her again, considers trying to get her to understand that the in the context he's using the term, it's strictly a descriptive law enforcement term – she was the victim of a brutal attack, and he's not ever talking about what Kassel had forced her to do. That's a whole other ball of hurt.
He knows this woman, though, and he knows that he's wasting his time trying to make her see the difference between being a victim and being someone's victim. In any case, she's determined to be neither, and in the best of times, trying to convince Kensi Blye that she's wrong about something in an exercise in futility.
So instead, he says, "Are you hungry?"
She frowns slightly at that. "I think so?" she finally replies. Then, "I don't know. Is one of these tubes…are they feeding me through tubes?"
"I'm not sure. I'll talk to a nurse, and see what they can get you. They may want you on fluids only right now just to be safe."
She groans, then turns to Renko. "Breakout Special?"
He laughs. "If it's safe for you."
"What's a Breakout Special?" Nate asks.
Renko and Kensi exchange a rather conspiratorial look, and then both laugh. Kensi waves her hand dismissively. "It's nothing."
Nate studies her for a moment; he's somewhat relieved to see her still able to actually find moments of mirth, senseless and shallow though they be. He suspects that in the weeks to come, regardless of whether or not the team is able to find Deeks, she's going to need to lean on the moments that don't hurt to get her through the ones that do.
He kind of hates that his special assignment is going to take him away from her right when she needs him the most.
"Nate, you're staring," she says. "And shrinking me in your head. I can tell."
"Sorry."
"I'll uh, check on her food, Doc," Renko says quickly. "You guys, I'm sure, need to talk again." He looks over at Kensi. "Unless you want me to stay."
She meets his eyes. "No, I'm good," she replies.
He nods, and there's a hint of both relief and sadness in his expression. Nate had given him a quick Reader's Digest version of what had occurred, and that had almost been too much for him, but he's not all that thrilled with the idea that she doesn't think he'll see her as the same person after finding out the truth of everything that had happened to her.
In his eyes – and he's quite certain Callen and Sam are the same in this respect – there's very little that could change how he sees her; as a dear friend, a kickass agent and a badass woman who even on her worst days (and these ones certainly would qualify as that) should not be fucked with.
Just the same, though, he respects her need to not have him in the room. He nods once more to Nate, and exits.
"So," Nate says, sitting down next to her.
"So. What were you all talking about?" It's such a casual question, but he knows what she's asking.
"They're angry," Nate confirms. "For you, and for Deeks. You would be, too, if you were in their place right now."
"I'm angry now," she says, mostly to herself. Then, to Nate, " But they know I'm okay, though, right? You told them that, right?"
"I couldn't tell them that because I don't think it's the truth."
She looks up at him with some surprise in her eyes; that's the very last thing she had expected him to say.
"You've been through a horrible trauma – both with what Kassel did you to in the apartment –" she starts to protest, but he cuts her off. "I get it, Kensi, I do. You keep saying you did what you had to do. You keep making it your choice, but we both know you didn't really have a choice."
"I did," she says softly, almost as if she's desperately clinging to the words.
"Okay. So your choice was to fight back or to have sex with Kassel." He sees the way she flinches, but chooses to push on. He knows that if he softens up or retreats, he'll never get through to her. As is, he's not sure he's going to be able to break through anyway. "If you had fought back, Kensi, I think we both know that Deeks certainly would have been killed, and you probably would have been as well. So tell me, what choice did you really have?"
"What happened to you?" she asks suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"I just…you're different, Nate."
"And you're trying to push us off course."
She smiles slightly, but doesn't deny it.
"I know this is hell," he says. "But it's okay to admit –"
"No, it's not," she cuts in. "I mean it is hell, but…but I need to be strong right now, Nate. He needs me strong. Whatever else happened, whatever else I'm feeling, none of it matters. All that matters is finding Marty."
"Marty?"
She blinks, surprised. Then, stammering. "I meant Deeks. Deeks. We have to find Deeks."
"What happened between you two in the bathroom?" he asks again, though he's fairly sure that this time, just like last time, she's going to stonewall.
He's right; she shakes her head. "Not important."
"Okay, fine. Then tell me what happened after it."
"Only if you promise to believe me."
"Believe you that you're fine?"
"Believe me that I'm no one's victim."
"What I believe is that I've never met anyone as stubborn or as strong as you in my life. I believe that if anyone can get through this, it's you."
"I suppose that will have to do, right?"
"It's the best you're getting." He offers her a smile. She returns it, though not nearly as convincingly. To him, she just looks tired and sad. "You ready?"
"You know I don't remember everything."
"I know. Just tell me what you do remember."
She nods. She reaches for the water again, takes another sip, and then starts speaking, her voice soft, and through sheer force of will, steady.
She's alone in the bed when she comes to, which isn't all that strange considering that this is how she's woken up for the last four weeks, but after last night, after what had happened between she and Deeks, well it's more than a bit disconcerting not to have him lying next to her. Disconcerting and unsettling.
And not just because she wants him to be here (and to her surprise, she really does), but because she knows that right now, she needs him here, and it bothers her more that she cares to admit to ever need anyone.
She had needed Jack, and then he had walked away from her, shattering her. She'd promised never again would she allow herself to be so vulnerable.
She reminds herself that Deeks isn't Jack and this situation – her relationship with Deeks – it isn't even close (in a very good and somewhat confusing way) to similar to the one that she'd had with her former fiancée.
But still…
She gets up slowly, stiffly, her body aching. Wincing, she makes her way over to the mirror and looks into it, her eyes sweeping over the various marks and bruises up and down her naked body. She runs her finger over a puffy red bite mark on her left upper thigh, and shivers fiercely, her stomach suddenly seizing violently. For a moment, she thinks that maybe she's about to throw up.
"Stop it," she orders herself, her voice too low for the microphones to pick up. "You're fine. You are fine."
She has to repeat it a few times, but eventually, she can feel herself calming down. She breathes in, breathes out, repeats, gets control.
She showers quickly, dresses even quicker (putting on jeans and a baggy sweatshirt) and makes her way out to the front room. She realizes quickly that she's the only one in the apartment.
She glances down at her watch, and to her surprise sees that it's past nine in the morning. Normally, Deeks is long back from his surf by now. She feels a spark of panic race through, but quickly stomps it down. Knowing Deeks, he's likely sitting on his board in the middle of the water, probably trying to figure out where the hell they're supposed to go from here. It makes sense. Really, it does. That doesn't stop her from worrying. Especially after the events from the prior day. What if Kassel is having Deeks followed? What if he still intends to hurt "Jimmy" for his failure to sell?
She picks up her phone and quickly punches in the number for Jimmy Reese's cell. It rings three times, and then goes to voicemail. "Honey, it's me," she says. "I'm just checking in to see where you are. Call me. Please."
Looking around, she realizes that wants to be anywhere but in this damned apartment. She suddenly hates this place.
Just as she thinks she's about to explode (or run from the apartment looking like she's completely lost her mind) the door opens, and Deeks enters.
"De-Jimmy," she says, stepping towards him.
"Hey," he stammers, seeming both surprised and pleased to see her. That's when she notices the bloody cut above his eye.
"What the hell happened to you?" she demands. She reaches out to touch him, but he catches her hand, and diverts it, holding it tight in his own instead. She feels him interlace his fingers with hers.
"It's nothing," he assures her. "Did you just get up? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she murmurs, her eyes still on the wound. She removes her hand from his (almost reluctantly), then reaches up and runs a finger over his eyebrow, her nail tracing the slightly swollen skin just below the cut. "But you're not. We need to clean that up. You might need stitches."
"It's no big deal."
She stares at him, and for a moment, he thinks maybe she's about to go off on him. He'd almost welcome that, really, because it would be them again, and not these two idiot dolts James and Kara. She keeps her cool, though (which he thinks, is more than he can say for himself) and simply replies, "Sit down."
Her tone leaves no room for argument so instead of putting up one, he moves to sit down on the couch.
"Not there," she says quickly, and he sees a disgusted look cross her face. That's all he needs to know that that's where Kassel had done what he done to her.
Silently, he crosses into to the kitchen, and sits at the table where they typically share breakfast. She goes over to the sink, gets a dishtowel, soaks it with water and then returns, and drops down next to him.
"It's really nothing," he insists as she presses the cloth to the cut, cleaning away the blood and sand.
She smiles grimly. "Wasn't I the one saying that last night?"
"No, you were saying that you were okay. Different words."
He meets her eyes, and she sees something so pained and hurt in his deep blues that it almost makes her pull away like she's been burned. Instead, she lifts a hand up, and touches his face, her fingers tracing over his stubled cheek.
"Talk to me," she whispers as she drops the dishtowel to the table and turns her full attention to him. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm sorry," he says.
She shakes her head. "I told you already, what happened, it wasn't your fault. I made the choice. I –"
"No, listen. I think…I think I made it worse," he tells her, his voice just barely a whisper. "I really think I screwed this up."
For a moment, she thinks he's talking about his decision not to sell to the kids around the complex, but something in his deep blue eyes tells her that it's more than that. "What are you talking about?" she asks.
"I went to see Sanchez."
"Oh..." she almost says his name, but ends up mouthing it instead.
"I lost my mind," he continues. "I couldn't stand you hurt." He pauses. "I can't stand you hurt."
For the briefest of moments, she'd thought that maybe he was still acting, but the way his voice sounds, almost tortured, she knows that he's no longer playing the part. This is one hundred percent Marty Deeks talking to her.
"What did you do?" she asks, her voice suddenly steely.
He shakes his head. "Not now. There's no time. Right now, we need to go."
"Wait…did you…you decided this while you were out…there...wherever?"
"Yes," he nods, standing back up. "Now please, let's go."
"What if I'd been asleep still?"
"I was going to put you in the car and get you the hell out of here."
"You're not making sense," she insists, reaching out and grabbing his arm. She holds it tight, underscoring the sudden intimacy between the partners. "Please."
He turns to face her, putting a hand over hers. "I know you have questions, and I promise you, I'll give you all the answers I have. Later. Right now, I need you to trust me and come with me. We need to leave. Okay?
"Okay," she says softly, making it clear to him that trust is not an issue between them. "Give me two minutes to grab some things."
He simply nods. It's almost like he's in shock.
She heads to the back, grabs a pair of shoes, her purse (checking to ensure that Hetty's knife is in it), and a sweatshirt for him (he's wearing only jeans and a thin white tee-shirt) and then returns to the kitchen.
"I'm ready," she tells him, handing him the sweatshirt. "Are you sure about this? I mean, you know what this means, right?"
"I know it means walking away," he confirms.
"You never have."
"There's a first time for everything."
"This can't all be about me."
"It's not."
"Promise me that."
"I promise."
"Then let's go."
He stands up, takes a look behind him, and then opens the front door. Just as they're walking through it, his cell rings.
"Who is it?" she asks, coming up behind him.
"Sanchez," he replies, looking at the screen.
"Answer it," she says, determination in her expression.
"Yeah?" Deeks asks, putting the call on speaker so Kensi can hear it.
"Hey, we need to meet. Immediately."
"Now's not a good time, Paul."
"Trust me, this is important. This could all be over tonight."
The two partners exchange a look. Kensi nods at him as if to say, "tell him we'll meet him", but for a minute, Deeks stays quiet.
In this line of work, it's wise to be wary of too good to be true, and this sudden turn of fate right as they're about to pack it sends alarm bells ringing.
She tilts her head inquisitively. "What's wrong?"
"Hold on a minute, Paul," Deeks says, and then mutes the phone. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"If we have a chance to finish this, shouldn't we?"
"Just ten seconds ago, we'd agreed to walk away. What's changed?"
"Shouldn't we find out?"
"I don't know. I just know that we need to be thinking clearly about this."
"Deeks, that's the problem here; neither of us is thinking clearly. I want to stay in because I want nothing less than to put a bullet right between Kassel's eyes. You want out at least partially because – whether you want to admit it or not - you want to protect me."
"So the question is, where do we go from here?" Deeks asks, not bothering to refute her conclusions (why bother – he does want to protect her, desperately so). "What's the right play, Partner?"
"We have a job to do. I say we do it."
He looks at her again, and she can see the uncertainty in his eyes, but reluctantly, he takes her lead. He unmutes the phone, "Where?"
"The parking lot of the Taco Bell you did the first delivery at."
"No, where we meet this morning."
"Fine. Thirty minutes. And hey, make sure your partner is there. She needs to hear this info, too."
Once again, Deeks feels that rush of suspicion and worry go through him. Considering what Sanchez thinks of women in general and Kensi in specific, it's hard to imagine why he would want her there. A quick look at his partner tells him, however, that she no intention of backing out over this.
After spending the last four weeks in the rear with the gear so to speak, Kensi Blye is ready to be up front with the action. Especially after last night.
"You better not be screwing around, Sanchez."
"Don't worry. This is worth it." And with that, he hangs up.
"Why did you change locations?" she asks.
"Too many people at the Taco Bell. If this goes bad, I don't want anyone innocent caught in the crossfire."
She smiles at him with such warmth that it's almost too much. In his life and in his career, folks have tended to humor him like they would a small child. Very few people have ever bothered to look beneath the surface. She does.
"Let's get going," he stammers, trying to cover up his sudden nervousness.
"Wait. Should we alert Ops, get some backup ready?" she asks.
He considers the option, then shakes his head in the negative. "Not yet. If his info is soft - and chances are it is - and we have SWAT and the rest of NCIS and the LAPD rushing in, we'll kill the operation dead on the spot. There's not enough spots for them to hide around there."
"So we go, hear him out, and then figure out our next move."
He nods.
"Going to be nice to do this together," she says.
He smiles then because she's right, she's absolutely right.
He's pretty sure that he hasn't eaten in days. He's been given water a few times (or rather had it dripped into his mouth), but he hasn't so much as had a stale cracker since the day he and Kensi had been grabbed.
When his mind is reasonably clear (and those moments are becoming fewer and fewer), he understands exactly what's happening; he's being slowly and systematically broken down.
Physically and mentally tortured, starved and repeatedly drugged.
It's all pretty much text book.
And yet, to his surprise, when the door opens and Alejandro enters, he's carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a couple pieces of bread on it.
Deeks considers trying to attack Alejandro (he's still lying on his stomach on the bed, his hands and feet untied), but quickly realizes that it would get him nowhere; as strong as he'd like to think he is, his body is simply too hurt to be able to put up a realistic escape attempt.
Which means that his options have dwindled down to two: wait to be rescued or play along with Kassel until a better opportunity for escape presents itself.
There's the third option, of course, which is death, but right now even Kassel doesn't seem to be all that interested in that one.
Which means it's wait or play along.
He's not yet ready to sell his soul so wait it has to be.
"Thanks," he says to Alejandro. The man just grunts, and then leaves.
Deeks moves himself to the ground, wincing as a few of the cuts on his back split open, blood spilling out. He reaches for the bowl of soup, drinks the chicken broth down immediately, and then greedily consumes the bread.
He has a moment of wondering if the food is drugged, but then pushes it away. Even if it is, so what? Kassel has been keeping him looped up on heroin since day one. What does it matter if there's something in the food?
Once finished with the soup and bread, his belly feeling suddenly tight and painful, he gingerly crawls onto to the bed. Lying back on his stomach, realizing what he's been reduced to in such a short amount of time, he almost wants to cry.
Oh Kensi, if you could see me now, Partner.
They reach the rotted out dock in Pasadena within twenty minutes, and immediately, Deeks knows that something is wrong.
It's nothing specific, really, it's just a feeling in his gut. One look at Kensi tells him that she's feeling it, too.
He almost asks her if maybe they shouldn't just turn around and walk away. Before he can, though, he hears the sound of shuffling sand, and he turns to see Sanchez walking towards them, Alejandro right next to him.
"Detective Deeks, Agent Blye," Sanchez says with a smirk.
"Why are we here, Paul? And what's he doing here?"
"I told you, I have information."
"Then talk," Kensi says.
His eyes snap to her, and this time, he's not looking at her with just lust, but something much darker, almost like hatred and disgust. "Be quiet."
Deeks starts to take a step forward, but Kensi puts her arm out. "If you're just going to waste our time…"
"Didn't know you were the type to let your woman speak for you, Deeks," Paul laughs. It occurs to both Deeks and Kensi that the former soldier seems to be holding himself with an almost crazed kind of confidence.
The kind you get when you have nothing left to lose.
"We're leaving," Deeks says suddenly.
"Oh, no, no, I don't think so," Sanchez replies, shaking his head. "I told you I had information and I do. Guess what, kids? Game's up – Kassel knows."
Kensi and Deeks exchange a look of dread. At almost the same exact time, both are keenly aware of the absence of their guns.
"He'd like to see you two."
"Pass," Kensi replies.
"He wasn't asking. Nor am I."
Suddenly, Alejandro steps forward, right into Kensi. Before she has even a moment to react to his sudden closeness, she feels something hard being pressed into her stomach.
"That's a gun you feel against you, Agent Blye," Sanchez grins. "Totally different kind of gun than you felt yesterday, huh? I must say, watching you and Kassel on the couch together, it's not something I'll ever forget."
"Fuck off," she snaps, anger raging through her. She feels the sting of tears in her eyes as humiliation washes over her.
He laughs, then turns his attention back to Deeks. "Don't even think about coming to her rescue, Detective. You make one move and Alejandro here does what the boss was gonna have him do to you if she hadn't put out. Only this shot will leave her alive for a few minutes. Just long enough to let her bleed her out. That'll be fun to watch."
"Deeks," she says, and he's not completely sure if she's asking for help or telling him to back off. All he knows is that from where he's standing, it looks like if Alejandro fires his gun, there's no way Kensi survives it.
"I'm taking it this means you blew our covers?" Deeks asks, turning his attention back to Sanchez. He's hoping that Kensi's asking him to buy time while she comes up with a plan. Right now, he'd take even one of her crazy ones. "Why?"
"You refused to listen when I told you over and over not to cross me. Even this morning, you kept thinking you were in control. You're not."
"Neither are you."
"Maybe not, but when today is over, I'll be alive and you two won't be."
"You really believe he's going to let you live if he finds out you turned on him?"
"He knows and here I am."
"You're an idiot," Deeks says, knowing full well that his words will piss Sanchez off, but again, he's just trying to buy time.
To his surprise, Sanchez laughs. "We'll see who the idiot is. Now, the four of us are going to walk over to my car. We're going to get in, and then we're going to take a little ride. And don't even think about refusing because you know what, I don't care if your bitch partner lives or dies. I really don't."
"Okay," Deeks says. "Okay. I hear you. Just…relax the gun."
"When we're in the car."
"Deeks," she repeats, gasping as the gun is pressed harder into her gut. One look up and into Alejandro's eyes tells her that this guy would absolutely love to shoot her.
"We're going," he says as his eyes meet Kensi's. He's sure she's up to something; it's just not like her to allow herself to be taken without a fight. It was one thing when it was the Russians, he's pretty sure that in that case, she had expected to be saved from moment one (well, at least expected an attempt to save her anyway), but here, well he knows that if they get in the car with Sanchez and Alejandro, their chances for survival take a significant hit.
So considering all of that, he's not the least bit surprised by what Kensi does next. When Alejandro prods her to walk towards the car, she starts to move forward, and then suddenly she stops, plants a knee, and spins around, thrusting her fist right into Alejandro's mid-section. Only a quick jerk to the side by the thug saves him from taking Hetty's knife to the gut. Instead, it cuts weakly into his side, a painful but far from damaging strike.
It's a stroke of hideously bad luck for them, and they both know it immediately.
Before Kensi can jump out of the way, Alejandro grabs Kensi by the hair, and throws her to the ground. Deeks sees the purse that she had pulled the knife from go flying, bright beads catching the mid-morning sun. Alejando quickly follows up by kicking her right into the middle of the gut causing her to cry out in pain.
"Kensi!" Deeks moves to try to help her, but stops when he feels a gun press into his back.
"Uh huh. Don't even think about it," Sanchez says smugly. "I can't possibly miss from here."
Knowing that Sanchez is right, Deeks can do little more than watch helplessly as Kensi tries to fend off several more hard kicks to the ribs. After about half a dozen kicks, she's curled tight into a ball, no longer fighting, mostly just trying to absorb the contact in the least painful way possible.
Finally, Sanchez calls out, "That's enough. Get her up."
Alejandro stops, reaches down and grabs Kensi, pulling her to her feet. She struggles a bit, but her ability to fight is severely compromised by the fact that she's struggling to breathe.
"Cuff her," Sanchez says as he tosses Alejandro cuffs. He does so, pulling Kensi's hands behind her, and tightening the metal bands a bit too tight. She winces in pain, but refuses to cry out. "Your turn, Deeks. Cuffs or I shoot her."
Deeks offers his hands, knowing damn well that he's pretty much signing his own death warrant by doing so. Sanchez quickly cuffs him from the front.
"Let's go. Towards the car."
They reach Sanchez's car, and then both she and Deeks are thrown into the backseat. Sanchez and Alejandro get into the front. Deeks notices that the car is an old police cruiser, complete with the metal divider usually meant to protect cops from being attacked by suspects riding in the backseat. Which likely means that this is a cop car all the way down to the doors in the backseat that only open from the outside..
Which essentially means that they're trapped. Dammit.
"You okay?" he asks her.
She winces, and only replies with a curt nod. And then she does it again.
It takes a third time for him to realize that she's trying to tell him something. She nods again, but he realizes that it's more like she's motioning towards something.
"Phone," she mouths.
His eyes widen slightly. He glances up towards the front, notices that Alejandro, who is driving, doesn't seem to be paying them much attention, but Sanchez keeps glancing back at them.
Which means he's going to have to time this perfectly.
He turns his head towards Kensi, his eyes sweeping over her. The jeans she's wearing are loose, which means that she's probably got her cell in her front pocket instead of her back one (he's glad that she rarely keeps her cell in her purse unless she's without pockets elsewhere since her purse is now lying discarded on the beach). He waits until Sanchez looks away again, and then slides towards her, moving both of his hands to her side. It takes a couple attempts (and some shifting on her part) but finally, they manage to work her cell out of her pocket. A fortunate bump in the road gives them the bounce they need to get the phone into her hands. He sees her tuck it beneath her palms.
Which is perfect because as soon as she does, Sanchez glances back at her.
"Mr. Kassel is really looking forward to seeing you again, Agent Blye," he says. "I think he was hoping for an encore. Maybe this time I'll get in on the action."
"Over my dead body," she snaps back.
"I don't have a problem with that."
"You know he's going to kill you once he kills us, don't you?" Deeks asks him, intentionally forcing Sanchez's attention away from Kensi.
"Not if I do what he needs me to do. And I am, right now."
"He's still going to kill you. Ask Alejandro there, he knows."
"Shut up," Sanchez growls. And then turns around and faces the road.
Kensi and Deeks exchange a small smile.
A moment later, he sees her moving slightly as she keys in the Agent In Distress code. Once, then twice.
Eric turns to face Hetty. "It appears that she sent the signal at eleven-twenty-two in the morning, but we didn't actually receive it until two-eighteen. It took another thirty minutes to triangulate, and thirty minutes after that for Sam and Callen to get to Kensi."
"Four hours," Hetty says softly."Far too long."
"I'm trying to find out what happened," Eric assures them. "But the chances are, whatever route they took Deeks and Kensi was up through the hills and her cell lost reception and wasn't able to properly relay the message."
It's not a good answer, it's certainly not a satisfactory answer, but it's the only one he has for now.
"Keep researching, Eric," Hetty says softly. She turns her attention back to the LCD, watching as Sam and Callen pace around Sanchez.
"I saw the file," Eric says suddenly, his voice small.
"The file?"
"Kensi's medical file. The doctor…it was sent over. I didn't mean to…"
"Ah." She knows that she could chastise him for looking at information that wasn't meant for his viewing, but the shock she sees in his eyes stops her.
"She'll be okay, right?"
"She already is, Mr. Beale."
"And Deeks? Do you really think he's still alive?"
"I honestly don't know."
"Not the answer I was hoping to get," he admits.
"Not the answer I was hoping to give," she responds. They hold each others eyes for a moment, and then both turn back to the LCD.
Neither of them wants to hear what they're about to.
Both know they must.
And when they do, it's so much worse than they ever could have imagined.
TBC…