Brotherhood

Chapter 11

...

He heard a sharp intake of breath as the truck hit another pothole and Callen tightened his grip around his chest, struggling to keep pressure on the wound, his jeans sticky with blood as Deeks lay sprawled between his legs. With his back pressed against the back of the cab, Callen stared out at the swirls of dust that flew out behind them as they sped along the levee road, his mind racing almost as fast. He had no idea where they were going, the truck having headed in the opposite direction from where they'd originally come. There were no guards in the bed of the truck with them, just Guidry and a driver up front, the remaining men having stayed behind to clean up the mess and dispose of the bodies. Deeks had been in and out of consciousness for the last few miles, his head now resting against his shoulder, his arms going limp as he faded out again. Roy had talked reassuringly in his ear since the shooting, but when Elan's voice filled the comms he found himself the one trying to find a way to relieve the concern so obvious in his hurried questions. He talked to Jimmy Hale in a low voice, pretending to tease him about moaning over a minor wound so as not to make Guidry suspicious if he overheard and ease Elan's fear at the same time.

"You're a mean sonofabitch, Jake," Jimmy murmured in reply, moving gingerly as he came to again.

"Can't help it if you're a crybaby, brother," Jake replied, his voice wavering slightly with the false accusation.

"Fuck you," he replied in a voice that sounded a little too much like Deeks.

"Don't mean ta interrupt y'all's little brotherly tiff," Roy said. "But anyway you can give me a description of that asshole you met with today?"

"You mean without making the asshole they're with suspicious?" Elan snapped at Roy.

The two men began arguing and Callen smiled as he felt Deeks laugh. "You good, brother?"

"Yeah, Jimmy," he replied. "Got a headache from gettin' bashed by that big sucker in the tank top, but other than that I'm good to go."

"Now who's whinin'?" Jimmy asked. "Got any idea where the hell we're goin'?"

"I'm new here too, remember?" Jake growled.

"Sorry boys," Roy offered, as Elan apologized at the same time. "According to the tracking spray Sam coated y'all with, you're about to come up on a road that'll take ya into the little town of Crescent. Guidry must have a sympathizer there somewheres who can patch Deeks up."

"How bad's he bleeding, Callen?" Elan asked softly.

"I swear ya leaked a pint or two of blood all over me, kid," Jake said, cussing as if pissed.

Deeks didn't respond and Elan noticed, raising his voice as he called to him over the comms. Roy started to reprimand him, but Elan interrupted him immediately in Arapaho, his gruff tone reminding Callen that he was not a man you wanted to anger or get between him and someone he cared about. He listened to the two men's testy quarrel as they tried to find common ground, but Callen could say nothing, finally tuning them out as the truck swung up onto a paved road along a wide waterway. Their speed increased, the road winding past an occasional house and a few barns and businesses. Deeks slumped over his arm as the truck suddenly turned sharply down a concrete driveway. They pulled to a stop behind a large, expensive looking two-story house overlooking the water and a boat dock that had a sleek new cabin cruiser tied up alongside. Guidry got out and walked back to stare at Deeks, his eyes even betraying some concern, which surprised Callen.

"Doc here's a good 'un," he said as the man with him let down the tailgate and climbed up to help him get Deeks down.

Callen worried when he made no sound as they carried him toward a man talking angrily with Guidry, and he wondered what the militia leader had on the doctor to make him a part of this. He had white hair that was shaved close and held himself with military bearing, and he was definitely pissed about their arrival. They were reluctantly directed into the back door of the house and down a hall to a large room overlooking a small garden framed by a high, dense hedge, adding to its privacy. Callen was surprised to see a fully equipped surgical set-up as he and the driver laid Deeks down on a padded exam table. He turned as the doctor entered the room and held out his hand to introduce himself, wanting Roy to get his name.

"Jake Hale, Doc," he said. "This is my brother, Jimmy."

"I don't need to know your name and you don't need to know mine," he said, his tone indifferent.

"If you're ashamed of your own name and what you do, that's your business," Jake replied coldly. "But you better fix up my brother real good or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

"Ain't no need ta warn 'im, Jake," Guidry said. "He know not ta screw up, doncha Doc Mouton? Lots ta lose if he do."

Callen saw the fear then, the deep, unsettling kind that comes from a very painful experience. There was also distaste and Callen got the distinct impression that this man felt Guidry was beneath him. The man turned abruptly, calling out a woman's name as he bent over Deeks, picking up a pair of scissors and began cutting away his bloody shirt. He didn't trust the man, and from what he heard over comms, neither did Elan.

"Get out and let me work," Mouton ordered, his words heavy with resignation and resentment.

"Ain't happenin'," Jake replied evenly. "Jimmy's the only family I got left, so I'm stayin'."

"Best not screw up Doc," Guidry laughed. "Dese here boys is close and both be mean as a hungry gator."

A woman with short gray hair entered just as Guidry finished talking, pausing briefly when she saw him, a hint of deep disgust in her eyes as she made her way to the table where Deeks lay. She brushed his tangled hair out of his eyes and it woke him. He blinked a couple of times and looked around, smiling when he looked up at her. Callen was always amazed at how women responded when Deeks favored them with that slow, wide smile, and today was no different. His face was filthy with sweat, blood staining his hands, his stomach and abdomen smeared with it, and a long, raw gouge scarred his side, but he still managed to get a smile out of the refined looking woman.

"Hey ma'am," he said as she began to clean his face.

"Be still, young man," she said as she washed away the sweat and dirt from his chest.

"Name's Jimmy," he whispered. "What's yours?"

"You don't need to know her name," Doctor Mouton snapped.

"It's alright, Ezra," she said easily. "My name is Marjorie. Folks call me Margie. Now hold on, this might hurt a bit."

He yelped and began shivering as she started to clean some of the dried blood from the wound, gripping the edge of the table as she worked.

"Did you give him something for the pain?" She asked the doctor.

"Guidry said he was tough," he replied, and Callen took a step toward the man as anger surged through him.

The woman held up her hand to stop Callen, shaking her head as she took a tiny bottle from a surgical tray and picked up a syringe. "This should make you feel a little better, Jimmy."

The woman seemed kind and patted Deeks on the shoulder when she finished with the injection. She got the rest of his clothes off and covered him with a warm blanket before getting an IV started as the doctor prepared his instruments, glancing over at him several times as he laid them out with precision. Guidry had left, and the doctor grew emboldened again, making several nasty remarks about both of them as he examined Deeks' wound.

"You're a sonofabitch, Doc" Jimmy finally said quietly.

The man's expression was severe as he shoved a needle into Deeks' IV, watching as his body slowly went limp. Callen was suddenly afraid for him, and put his hand on his gun.

"You hurt him, you're dead," unsure and uncaring whether he was in character or not.

"He's a very good surgeon," Margie said. "And I'm a very experienced trauma nurse. You're brother is going to be fine. No one is going to harm him."

Before he could thank her, he heard a man cursing and shouting the doctor's first name. The voice was very familiar and he stepped in front of the doctor to protect him if he needed it.

"Ezra? Help me, I've been shot," whined the man they'd met that morning as he stumbled into the room.

"Good God, Eliot. What the hell happened," Mouton said, and then turned and shouted in Callen's face. "Did you two do this? I'll let your brother bleed out if you bastards hurt my son-in-law."

The doctor's eyes were intense as he helped the sandy haired man to a chair, calling them both thugs and murderers. The doctor quickly forgot about Deeks as he helped his wife eased the blood-soaked suit jacket off the man they called Eliot. Callen went ice cold, and felt the sudden urge to tell the doctor exactly what his son-in-law was, but Roy was yelling a warning in his ear and he knew he had to control himself.

"Dat boy on de table dere...he save Eliot's life," Guidry said as he walked past Callen and yanked the doctor around to face him. "He save mine too. Now fix 'im, or I'll shoot this fuck."

The doctor's expression was a mixture of stunned surprise and abject fear. The information had certainly rendered him speechless, his wife as well, who was staring at Eliot as if seeing him for the first time.

"What have you done?" Margie asked breathlessly and then looked up at her husband. "You know...don't you?"

"This is all Guidry's fault," Eliot said. "He can't control his men. First he lets his group be infiltrated by federal agents and now one of his own men tries to kill us."

Guidry had him by the throat in an instant, growling into his face as the doctor tried to reason with him. Callen feared he might kill the man, and he couldn't let that happen. Eliot was the link they needed to the men behind the terrorist organization running things, so he decided to do something crazy and prayed it would work. He pulled his gun and placed the muzzle against the trembling man's temple and calmly waited for Guidry to say something. Eliot began to blubber, and Margie pleaded, but the doctor said nothing, his eyes wide and calculating.

"Give the order boss, and he's dead," Jake said, his voice edgy and hard.

Guidry slowly got control of himself and let Eliot go, turning to look at Jake with a respect that hadn't been there this morning. He gripped his forearm, pulling the gun down and away, and the standoff calmed.

"Day been crazy," Guidry said, breathing heavily as he turned to face the doctor. "Don't let dat boy bleed out over dere. Your daughter be a widow if it weren't for 'im."

"It's true," Eliot choked out, rubbing at the red marks on his throat. "He got shot shoving us out of the way."

"Ezra...get some plasma into that young man and stitch him up," Margie said brusquely. "I'll see to Eliot."

No one argued with her and Callen began to relax slightly as he secured his weapon, sagging as his adrenalin faded. He remained anxious though as he watched the doctor hang a bag of dark blood on a hook above Deeks' head. He could hear Elan in his ear, muttering something in Arapaho, and it did nothing to calm him. It had been almost two hours since Deeks had been shot and he looked clammy and very pale. Callen moved to stand at the head of the table, unable to resist resting a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. The doctor worked quickly, cleansing the open wound and then methodically stitching the ugly gouge closed.

"I'll put him on antibiotics to ward off infection, but he'll be fine," Mouton said as he taped a bandage over the long line of stitches.

"He lost a lot of blood," Jake said, unable to keep from sounding worried.

"I'm sorry for my earlier comments..." He stumbled over his apology, actually sounding contrite. "But he's my patient now and I owe him. He's not going to die. It was a simple wound. No need to worry now."

"Thank you," Callen found he was truly grateful to the man, but instinctively knew he was a part of the organization they had come here to put an end to.

"He'll be under for awhile," Margie said as she came up beside him. "You look like you could use some air."

Callen nodded, but was still reluctant to leave him alone with people he didn't trust. Margie sensed it, watching him as he hesitated to take her advice.

"Would you have shot him?" Her voice sounded small and he could tell she was afraid of him.

He wasn't sure he could answer that and it scared him. He didn't reply at all, simply ran his hand through Deeks' hair, resting it briefly on his head before he turned and walked out. He saw Guidry talking on his satphone next to the bullet ridden Mercedes, but he had no interest in being anywhere near him, so he walked down to the dock and out to where the sleek white boat floated innocently on the dark water. He stared at it, bitterness fouling his mouth as he thought about Joe and what had been done to Oscar Doucet and now to Deeks. He heard Roy in his ear praising his actions, but it was Elan's voice that calmed him. He simply kept reassuring him that Deeks was alright and his heart slowed as that truth slowly began to sink in. He eased himself down onto the dock, leaning back against a piling and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"His name is Eliot Dale," Roy said quietly in his ear. "He works for the DOJ, the little fuck. He married the Mouton's only child, Felicia. Eric is diggin' up all he can find on the good doctor, but y'all can bet your boots he's in this deep. We'll find out more about Eliot Dale too, and keep ya updated."

"You did well Mr. Callen," Hetty's voice startled him. "And please let Mr. Deeks know I'm proud of him. I've informed Kensi he was wounded, and she's anxious of course, but I'm keeping George Atwood in the dark for now. Agent Slater might push the wrong button and find a very tough Wyoming cowboy up his ass, and that might make some waves for all of us. Sam is in New Orleans. He knows your situation and I will be talking with him as soon as I am off comms with you. He's worried about both of you and wants word on Deeks' condition. He'll be greatly relieved when I give him the good news."

Callen turned his head away, so no one could see his face, desperately needing to speak to someone he trusted.

"I would have shot that shit if Guidry had told me to."

"Of course you would, Mr. Callen. You would have had no choice."

"I know."

"We have connections now we can follow. You're not alone Mr. Callen. Now get some rest. You sound exhausted."

The sound of someone on the dock kept him silent and he turned to see Guidry walking out to him. He scrambled to his feet and stood waiting, his mood darkening the closer he got.

"Dem two just a necessary evil," he said as he stared at the boat. "Don't like dealin' wid 'em, but da man dey answer to...he be skittish now. Sent dat couyon to check you out. Dumb fuck. Shoulda let ya shoot 'im."

"Sounds like I'm missin' somethin'," Jake said. "Thought they worked for you."

Guidry stared at him long and hard, and Callen waited, trying to look as if he didn't care whether he answered him or not. The information would be critical to their investigation and would let him know whether they had now earned this maniac's trust or not.

"Naw. Dat old man own most of dem wells we guard," Guidry said easily. "He a rich sonofabitch. How he can buy this here big ol' shiny boat."

"Then why does he need to work for somebody else?" Jake asked.

"You smart, Jake. I like dat," Guidry said, eying him with pride as if had discovered some treasure. "Dos two be a part of somethin' bigger we all fightin' for. Ta be free of a government makin' bad laws that keep us down and take away our God-given rights. Dey got a plan and we gonna make it happen."

"Sounds important," Jake said with a wide smile.

"It just be the beginnin'," he assured him. "We gonna make a statement dat lets the government know dey in dere last days."

"We're in," Jake said enthusiastically. "When do we start?"

"First I gotta find me a Fed dat got away," Guidry growled, his eyes dark with anger. "He know too much. Needs killin'."

"Hell. I'll kill 'im for ya," Jake said eagerly. "You just tell me where ta find 'im and Jimmy and I will hunt the fucker down and put 'im in the ground."

"You a tough sonofabitch, Jake. Need some 'un like you now Henry gone," Guidry said, eying him critically. "Jimmy needs ta heal up, so I'll have Digger take y'all on up to t'other camp on Gator Lake. I'll send Pea up tomorraw. He been huntin' that fuckin' Fed for awhile. Maybe y'all have better luck."

"If he's out there we'll find 'im," Jake promised. "Won't let ya down, boss,"

"Ain't so far," he replied, slapping him lightly on the cheek. "Still alive cause a y'all."

Callen felt lightheaded as the man walked away and began talking on his satphone again. He heard Roy and Elan in his ear, but could only listen to their enthusiastic comments, afraid to smile for fear of jinxing the surprise development. They were so close to finding Joe he could almost taste it and started walking back up to the house. He was anxious to let Deeks know they could now search for their lost brother with Guidry's blessing, using his own men to help them.

...

Joe felt a callused hand on his back, lifting him up and he struggled to raise his head, surprised he was too weak to do it as his head slumped into the crook of the old man's arm. He heard scolding whispers and familiar arguments, but it was the rich smell of food that encouraged him to open his eyes and made his stomach clinch into a knot of emptiness. The old man held him up gently as Iris sat down by him on the edge of the bed, her wrinkled black hand cupped around a yellow bowl steaming with pale soup. He licked his lips in anticipation, anxious as his stomach growled. Holding out the spoon to him, she fed him as she would a child, humming softly as he took in mouthfuls of the savory chicken broth, Augustine wiping the spills from his chin. His eyes watered at their kindness, blinking slowly as the warmth infused his weakened body, giving him hope that his ordeal might truly be over.

His night had been one full of fevered nightmares inhabited by dark-eyed men and long-toothed dogs slashing through garish green grasses to the heartbreaking sounds of piercing screams. He quivered at the memories he would never be rid of, his tears overflowing as an old man held him in his arms and a black angel fed him with dreams of a new day. His mind reached inward for images of his son, filling his senses with the remembered smell of milk that lingered on his baby boy's breath after he fed him a bottle for the first time. He longed for the overwhelming joy he felt when his wife laughed as they rode horses along the creek on his father's ranch. It all seemed so far away, another world he had lived in that he had somehow lost. Now he was in a place that promised peace and rest, but beneath it all was fear. His illusion was believing he was safe.

He suddenly pushed the spoon away and fought to get up, to run as he knew he must, to protect these protectors before he got them killed. He could not live through another killing, to watch as evil felled these innocent people with ravaging hatred they didn't deserve.

"I have to go," he choked out. "Dangerous for you..."

"Shush now, boy," Augustine's deep voice rumbled against his side as he held him firm. "You in no shape to go nowhere."

"You don't understand..." He mumbled.

"Course we do boy," Iris said as she pushed another spoonful of soup past his lips. "We lived a long time. We seen hard times and lived through 'em. We ain't ignorant of the evil in this world. Augustine preaches against it ever Sunday."

"You should listen to him Gramma," Xavier said, sounding resigned that they wouldn't.

"Cain't turn our backs on a man in need, son," Augustine replied firmly as he lay Joe back down on the bed. "What kind of Christians would we be if we do that?"

"We'd be alive," Xavier snapped back angrily.

"Would we?" Iris asked. "I don't know that kinda life. I'd be askin' forgiveness for the rest of my days if I throw this young man to them wolves."

"Papa T, please..."

"You 'member your daddy, Xavier?" The old man asked. "You was six when he was killed in the war. He was a soldier. A brave man who gave his own life for others. That's your birthright, boy. Don't deny that cause of fear."

"Afghanistan?" Joe asked, feeling a kinship when they all nodded. "I was there for two tours. I'm sorry for your loss."

Iris patted him on the chest as she wiped at her eyes, and Augustine simply got up and walked over to stare out the window. Iris went to him and the two walked out into the yard, leaving him alone with Xavier who continued to stare at him. His eyes were filled with the longing he'd seen in the children of his buddies, killed in the streets of Fallujah. Joe knew what he wanted. He wanted to know what it had been like for his father, and he wasn't sure he should give him that.

"My dad was a Marine," Xavier said with fierce pride and a lot of anger. "He promised to come back but he didn't. My brothers don't even remember him."

"You're mad at him," Joe said. "You think he lied to you, but he didn't. He wanted to believe it. He had to. We all did."

"It was a war. Men die in war," his voice taunting, as if he were stupid. "Don't tell me he thought he couldn't be killed."

"You think he should have told his six-year-old son he was going off to die?" Joe asked, suddenly angry with the boy. "No father would do that. No soldier would. My brother was killed in Iraq. I tried to talk him out of going, telling him just what you told me. I didn't want him to die. The dumbass laughed. Told me I worried too much. Told me he was a good soldier and that I should have faith that he could take care of himself. He didn't lie to me. He believed everything he said, and so did your father. It just didn't work out that way."

"You have kids?" He asked quietly, his surliness suddenly gone.

"A two-year-old son," his eyes blurring with tears as he pictured his little boy.

"Is what you're doing worth leaving him without a father?"

Stunned by the question he became silent as he searched deeply for the answer, one that he had to believe.

"Yes. I do. But I'll fight till my dying breath to get back to him. He'll be in my final thoughts just like you were in your father's."

Xavier nodded, his eyes bright with the tears he was too proud to shed. He picked up the yellow bowl his grandmother had left on the chair and carried it into the kitchen, pausing before washing it out.

"My brothers ask me about him all the time," he said as he stood drying the bowl. "I end up telling the same stories over and over, but they never get tired of hearing them. Was he your only brother?"

"I've got three other men I call brother," Joe replied. "One is my cousin, Elan. He's Arapaho. One I met while undercover. Name's Marty. We saved each other on that assignment. Came into my life full of anger and guilt, but when he smiled you'd never know it. He's a real smart ass and I love him for it. My newest brother is intense. Tough. Grew up rough...didn't even know his first name until recently. We call him by his last name...Callen."

"You sound close."

"We'd all give our lives for one another."

"Like real brothers," Xavier said.

"We are real brothers."

"Is that who you wanted to call last night?"

"Good question," Joe said. "Not sure who to trust right now except family."

"Would they come if you called?"

"Oh yeah," Joe laughed, always certain of that one thing. "It isn't the first time one of us has been in trouble."

"I'm going back to campus for a summer class tomorrow. I could call one of them for you," he offered.

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah...if it would get you out of here," he said with a laugh.

"You're right. I shouldn't stay here," Joe said, feeling completely drained. "Maybe I should go with you. What college you attending?"

"LSU on academic scholarship," he said with a hint of pride. "I'm studying for a B.S. in Environmental Management Systems."

"I didn't know your dad, but I'm pretty sure he would be proud as hell," Joe said with a tired smile. "How long to get to Baton Rouge?"

"Little over an hour," Xavier replied.

"You could drop me at the FBI office and I can take it from there," he said, feeling encouraged now that he had a plan.

"Is that where you work?" Xavier asked.

"No. My home office is in LA," he said. "I was working with a local task force in New Orleans."

"Can't you call them for help?"

The innocent question shattered his newfound confidence in his plan, reminding him of the betrayal that had ended Oscar's life in terrifying violence. He had no idea who else might be involved or compromised. If he walked into the FBI, who would they notify? They had to know he was missing by now, which means they must be looking for him. He'd be safe if he could get there. Wouldn't he? At least this innocent family would be safe from any retribution by Guidry if he was found here. He had to go and he had to trust the FBI to get him home.

"If you could get me to the FBI, I'll be out of your hair and you'll all be safe," he reasoned.

Xavier finally looked satisfied and Joe slumped down in the bed, confident that his nightmare was almost over. He needed to regain a little strength, to fight past the fever that continually racked him with chills, and then he would get to the one place he would be safe. He would call Diane and his dad, knowing how desperately worried they must be, and then he would call Deeks. He hadn't had a chance to talk with him before he left and he had missed that. They always talked before assignments in case it might be the last time. During the past couple of weeks he'd thought he had finally run out of luck and one of his many regrets was not having talked to his brother before he left. Their talks were usually full of smart ass jokes and teasing, but the undercurrent was always the deep caring they held for one another and the promise to watch over those they left behind. He knew Deeks would be distraught that he was missing. They all would, but he worried about Deeks more than the others. He was tough, but also fragile when it came to people he cared about. His greatest fear was losing one of them. He treasured the bond that he had formed with his family and with Callen, and he would be frantic to find him. If he could, Deeks would come for him. Elan and Callen too. That gave him comfort as he shivered with fevered chills and slipped toward sleep. Tomorrow he would get to a place where he would be safe, where he could call his family and ease their fears. Tomorrow he would be surrounded by the FBI and then he would finally be able to stop being afraid.

...

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