Promises to Keep

Chapter 26

...

A jab in the ribs jolted him awake, but he was groggy and slightly surprised to realize he had slept. The door he'd been sleeping against was jerked open, almost spilling him out onto the courtyard and he took a deep breath as he looked up at the grey walls of the chateau. The stone-faced police officer who had punched him, grabbed the front of his sweatshirt and yanked him up and out of the car, shoving him toward a large and very ugly man with slick black hair, big ears and a rather unfortunate puffy nose. He turned to look at the three dirty cops, spitting on the ground as the officer walked away from him.

"What? No goodbye hugs from you assholes?" Deeks asked. "Oh, and just so you know. I never forget a face."

All he got in response was the traditional hand gesture telling him he was fucked and that he couldn't argue with. He turned and flashed a cocky grin at the ugly man, earning an icy stare and a gruff response he didn't understand. Three men in gray suits surrounded him as he was pushed toward the ostentatious doors of the chateau and he swallowed hard as his mind started filling with unsettling memories of what Preston Burke had tried to do to him and to Elan. It was Ruthie who remained foremost in his mind as their footsteps echoed off the hard marble floor of the long entryway. This man claimed to be her father, but had treated her only as one of his many possessions, someone to be manipulated and controlled at his whim. Images of his own cold-hearted father flitted through his mind, an angry face, roughened by days of drinking, bloodshot eyes, his coiled fists, all the things his early childhood reeked of. He gasped out a harsh breath as some of his darker memories surfaced, bringing that old sense of rage and defiance back to him that he had used to survive his childhood and ultimately Jürgen. Now he would face another predator, but he was not the same person who had lived through his father's barbarous assaults and Jürgen's psychotic depravity. He had endured all of that agony and he had survived and he was stronger now, stronger than anyone knew. He knew. Deep down, he knew just what had changed inside of him and he suddenly laughed. It was the same laugh that had rumbled through him as he sat on Jürgen's ambiguous grave in that snowy meadow behind the barn, reveling in the fact that his tormenter was dead, his bones scattered and his flesh torn apart by wild animals. It was a triumphal laugh, a victor's laugh, a laugh he was proud of and had earned and that belonged to him alone.

He saw Preston Burke turn toward him as he laughed, his mouth twisted in disgust, his eyes red rimmed and his hair disheveled and he knew the man was very drunk.

"What's so funny, Agent Deeks?" The words slurred out of his mouth and his eyes turned venomous.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," he answered soberly.

"Enlighten me, Agent Deeks," he said, spreading his arms wide as he stumbled forward. "Are you laughing because you think you've beaten me? As if a nothing little piece of white trash like you could ever get the better of me."

Deeks became quite still as the man approached, his breath nauseating with the overwhelming smell of scotch as he roared out his vindictive comments. He was very close to being out of control, and Deeks remembered how dangerous a drunk could be if that line was crossed. The sudden tingling in the palms of his hands made him take a step back, but the big man with the slick black hair stood solidly behind him, giving him nowhere to go.

"Why don't you uncuff me and we can see who's the better man," Deeks baited.

He saw the quick look and slight nod Burke sent toward the man behind him, but didn't react fast enough to sidestep the kick that hit him just below the knees, sending him to the floor.

"You think I would dirty my hands on you?" Burke whispered as he was jerked up onto his knees.

"Of course not, you fuckin' prick, you're a coward," Deeks said softly. "You pay someone else to do your dirty work."

"Obviously I didn't pay enough or you and your little circle of friends would be dead," Burke said as he walked unsteadily to the sideboard and poured himself another scotch.

"Why aren't you dead, Deeks? Why are you so damn hard to kill?" Burke asked loudly as he staggered around the room. "That bastard Webb assured me you would drown in a pit of filthy water, but fuck if you didn't. Koller offered to kill you for a rather large sum of money, which I was quite willing to pay, but the whiney little shit failed and is probably lying dead in some field while you kneel here on my living room floor."

"Koller's not dead," Deeks said with a slight smile. "He's probably making a deal right now to put your ass in a French prison or maybe even on death row, if you're extradited back to the States."

Preston Burke hurled the half full glass of scotch across the room, hitting the Baroque mirror over the marble fireplace, shattering it into shimmering pieces that cascaded down over a beautiful Aubusson carpet.

"Do you have any idea how much that fucking carpet cost my father? No, of course you don't. You grew up in a shit hole section of LA, with a father that probably made mine look like a wimp." Burke ranted, a sickly smile on his face as he looked back at Deeks. "My father had his ways though. He bought me a Maserati for my sixteenth birthday, showed it to me and then took it away the same day just to show me who's ass I would always have to kiss."

"Now, you're just like him," Deeks said as he got to his feet.

"Maybe I am," he thoughtfully acknowledged. "Maybe I am, but I'm sure there are worse people in the world than your father or mine. Tell me about the man who tortured you, Agent Deeks. Tell me what he did to you for eight long days. I bet it felt a lot longer than that, didn't it? He wanted to kill you too, didn't he? What is it about you Deeks that makes men want to kill you? Tell me. How close did he come? How much pain did he put you through before you begged him to stop?"

Burke's voice got quieter as he questioned him, moving closer and closer until he was in his face, the reeking smell of alcohol making him nauseous. Then the man behind him wrapped an arm around his throat and he went rigid. His mouth suddenly became dry as his mind flashed back to deep, dark nights full of terror and agonizing hours under a blistering sun and he fought against the creeping sense of panic that was so familiar. He didn't intend to share any of it with this man or anyone else. His suffering would remain private, a series of memories seared so deeply into his psyche that revealing them would only damage him more and he wouldn't allow that. Not now, not ever. All of that was behind him now, and he intended to walk free of it no matter what the bastard in front of him tried to make him say.

"He must have really enjoyed torturing you," Burke said, nodding at the man behind him and the chokehold tightened. "I mean, he had you under his complete control for eight days. He must have got off on it, don't you think?"

He silently stood watching as Deeks struggled, his eyes full of curiosity and a hint of pleasure, finally smiling slightly before returning to the sideboard and filling another crystal tumbler with a generous measure of scotch.

"I wonder what it feels like to torture someone? Maybe it's the biggest high in the world. Maybe if I torture you, I won't feel so shitty," his voice reflective and angry as he walked unsteadily up to him, amber liquid sloshing from his glass as he emphasized his words. "You screwed with me, Agent Deeks. You screwed with my plans for Ruth, you screwed with my future and I don't like being screwed, especially by some low level civil servant."

"You don't deserve to have Ruthie, you pathetic prick," Deeks croaked out as the edges of his vision began to go grey. "You're her father, but you put her in danger again and again. Those guys you sent last night were firing automatic weapons at the house she was in. She could have been killed. What kind of man puts his nine year old daughter through that?"

The slap surprised him more than hurt him and he laughed.

"That the best you got, you pompous little rich boy?" Deeks taunted through gritted teeth. "Jürgen would have eaten you for breakfast. You wouldn't have lasted one day watching what he did to me. You would have thrown up all over your Gucci loafers. You're just a poor excuse for a man who uses money as a substitute for those peanuts between you legs."

Burke took a step back, blinking hard as his features morphed into a mask of rage, growling out a command in French to his bodyguards. Deeks never took his eyes off of Burke as his arms were jerked back hard, exposing his ribs to the two men in grey. His own rage surged through his body as the first punches landed and he felt a reckless need to ridicule the man even more, knowing it was a bad idea, but unable to keep the bitter words from escaping. Some insults came from his childhood and sounded childish, but others were the filthy names he had called Jürgen the night he'd smashed his ankle and his hand. Those were the ones he had paid so dearly for. Now as he shouted those same names breathlessly out at Preston Burke, he felt his rage begin to dissipate, realizing what a pale imitation of Jürgen the drunken man in front of him truly was and he began to laugh.

"I'm a survivor, man," he said cockily more to himself than to Burke.

Burke snapped out some order in French and the men stopped hitting him. He slumped in the arms of the ugly man as Burke approached with a sneer on his face, his breathing heavy as his eyes blinked slowly. Deeks gave him the biggest smile he could with the split lip he sported, but he saw something familiar in his eyes and his smile went cold and he steeled himself, knowing his insults had pushed him beyond the edge of control. He could almost hear Callen and Kensi and especially Joe scolding him for being an idiot and it wasn't hard to imagine the look Elan would have given him, but it was too late. It had been irrational to taunt the man, but it had felt so good to do it, to not be the helpless victim anymore, to shout out his defiance and reclaim a part of himself that he had lost after Jürgen. He had always been somewhat cheeky and impertinent before, and he wanted that irreverent part of his personality back. He wanted to spit in this asshole's eye, to be unafraid in the face of such arrogance, and if that cost him, so be it, he was good with that.

Preston Burke roared in anger as he slammed the heavy crystal tumbler in his hand down on Deeks' head, the scotch mixing with the blood that splattered across his shirt. The ugly man let go of his arms and he collapsed unconscious in a heap at Burke's feet, the dark blood slowly seeping into his wild hair.

...

Callen rubbed his head and brought his hand down to his mouth as he stifled another yawn. He had nodded off briefly in one of the chairs in Commandant Broussard's office, letting Kensi have the couch, even though she'd protested that there was no way she could sleep. Now she was curled up with her back to him, snoring softly and making him smile. Deeks had told him once that she snored and she had punched him and denied it, but Deeks had raised his eyebrows and smiled his crooked grin behind her back, giving them both something to laugh about at Kensi's expense. He thought longingly of those occasions when they had teased each other, their camaraderie lightening their days and Deeks fending off jokes with some of his own inventive rejoinders.

His mood darkened as he checked his watch one more time, his mind returning to the present situation that had him struggling to maintain his composure. It had been almost an hour since they'd been brought in, and he was getting antsy. Broussard had promised he would cut through the red tape and have them released, but he was growing frustrated and his patience was waning, his concern for Deeks growing heavier the longer he was forced to wait. His ringing phone was a welcome distraction and he quickly answered.

"How is he Lily?" he asked softly.

"Still in surgery," she answered. "Mon Dieu, I hate waiting."

"Hang in there," he said.

"How are you being treated?" she asked. "I called as many people as I could think of to protest your arrest."

"Commandant Broussard is a stand up guy," Callen said. "But the cops who took Deeks were dirty, Lily. The mayor paid them to take him to Preston Burke."

"Merde!" Her anger was explosive and Callen didn't understand some of the words she used to express it.

"Why hasn't Burke been taken into custody?" Callen asked when she finally took a breath. "All those diplomats saw first hand that he had Ruthie. What's the hold up?"

"He still has a few powerful friends left," she said.

"They won't help him if I ever get out of here," Callen growled.

"He won't kill him at his own home, Callen," she said calmly. "He's too careful for that."

"I hope you're right," Callen answered. "But he took a big risk just by having him taken. He may be getting sloppy or desperate, and that makes him even more dangerous."

"Ruthie is still at the farm, Callen," she told him. "She's still in danger."

"I know that," he angrily snapped.

"You have a difficult choice to make, mon ami," she said softly. "If you decide to go for Deeks, let me know. I will go back to the farm to help protect her."

She ended the call before he could respond and he cursed quietly under his breath.

"Things have changed, Agent Callen," Commandant Broussard said as he walked quickly into his office. "The three policemen who took your friend have been found shot to death in their patrol car on a back road to Caen. I think they were making a run for it, as you American's say."

"Preston Burke doesn't like loose ends," Callen said as he went over and shook Kensi awake. "Can we get out of here now?"

"I will drive you back to the Caron farm," he announced as he pulled on driving gloves. "I want to meet this Mimi Caron. I just got off the phone with your Secretary of the Navy."

"That would be our boss's doing," Callen said. "She and Mimi have probably been calling in favors and working diplomatic channels and the entire intelligence community. She was not happy when I told her Preston Burke had gotten his hands on Deeks."

"Can't we just sign some paperwork and go?" Kensi asked anxiously as she stretched out her muscles.

"The paperwork can wait," he replied. "If Monsieur Burke is behind all of this, I want to meet the little girl at the center of it. Do you think he will try to take her again?"

"Yeah," Callen nodded, his jaw clinching tightly as Broussard handed them back their weapons.

"I've already sent some men back to the farm," Broussard said as he led them out.

"What about Deeks?" Kensi asked, her eyes concerned and glazed with tears.

"He'd want us to make sure Ruthie is safe first, Kens," Callen replied, realizing as he spoke that it was the only choice he could make. Deeks would never forgive him if he let anything happen to her.

...

He woke slowly, fighting off a wave of nausea as he lifted his head. He was surprised by the earthy smell and closed his eyes as his head dropped back down, his cheek coming to rest in damp green grass. He felt the sticky residue of blood on his face as he tried to see where he was, but his sudden movement caused the horizon to tilt as a screaming slice of pain flared behind his eyes. He was finding it hard to remember what had happened and why he was lying in a grassy field, but nothing came to mind. He could see grey pant legs next to him and that jolted his mind into focus. Although somewhat fuzzy on details, he remembered taunting Preston Burke and then the explosion of brilliant pain and he groaned. His hands were still cuffed behind his back and his ribs ached dully as he tried to make out what was going on, using the one eye he could still see out of. Then he heard the familiar beat of helicopter blades and the grass around him began to flutter as the downdraft washed over him.

"Where we goin'?" he asked weakly as he was pulled to his feet.

"To get back what belongs to me," Preston Burke snarled as he hid his bloodshot eyes behind a pair of designer sunglasses that made Deeks snort out a laugh.

"Gonna look good doin' it, too," Deeks said as he tried to stay on his feet. "Won't matter when the shooting starts. You don't stand a chance against my friends."

"We'll see about that after they hand over Ruth," Burke shouted over the sound of the sleek black helicopter.

"That's not gonna happen, asshole," Deeks replied.

"You better hope it does," Burke said harshly, close to his ear. "You're the first guy going down if they don't."

He only had a moment to watch Burke climb into the leather seat in the front before he was dragged inside the open mouth in the black copter's side. The men in grey were armed with automatic weapons and he shivered, as he was shoved face down on the cold floor. They lifted off and banked over the chateau, rising smoothly into the steely sky, and as the vibrations hummed along his ribs, he gave into the pain and exhaustion and his mind slipped into a fog of semi consciousness.

...

"I'm not going until I see Deeks," Ruthie said stubbornly, looking defiantly at each one of them, her eyes brimming with tears.

Kensi knelt down in front of her and wrapped her in a hug, but Ruthie struggled out of it and ran over to Luc, grabbing his gnarled hand and pleading with her eyes.

"Please, Grampapa Luc. I have to make sure he's alright," she whined softly, sounding like the little girl she was, her toughness slowly fading.

The old soldier sat down and she climbed onto his lap and he held her close as he talked quietly to her.

"Did I ever tell you about my son, Jean Paul?" he asked. "No? Well he looked a lot like your Deeks. Had the long hair and everything and was a wild child kinda like you. He loved to climb the apple trees and when he was little he would eat the fruit while it was still green and get these awful stomach aches, but no matter how many times we told him not to, he kept doing it. He was stubborn like that."

Luc paused and Callen could see he was struggling to maintain his composure and he only continued when Mimi went over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Jean Paul grew up to be a fine young man like Deeks," he said softly. "And he had a hard job, too, and we were always afraid for him. He would laugh at us for worrying, and always told us to trust him, because he was strong and knew what he was doing. I think that's the same thing Deeks would tell you, Ruthie. Trust him. He's strong and good at what he does and he wouldn't want you to stay here because it's too dangerous and he doesn't want to see you hurt."

"I know," Ruthie said softly.

"Mimi will be with you and when this is all over, Deeks will come see you in Paris," Luc promised.

"He better," she said grumpily, as she slipped off Luc's lap and took Mimi's hand.

The four French Intelligence officers followed her and Mimi out to the three SUVs where two other heavily armed men waited to convoy her to Paris. She stopped in front of Callen before getting in and he stooped down in front of her, her small hand gripping his arm as she softly chewed her bottom lip.

"Promise you'll watch out for him Callen," she said, sniffling back a few tears as she looked earnestly into his eyes. "Remember, he's your brother and he gets hurt a lot."

"You have my word, Ruthie," Callen said solemnly.

She climbed into the middle vehicle to sit next to Mimi, waving to them as the cars started down the driveway to the road.

"I just received a call from the officer I sent to do surveillance at Burke's chateau," Broussard said quietly as he stepped up to Callen's side. "A black helicopter just took off, heading this way. It won't take them long to get here. There might be a chance they'll spot the convoy."

"Mimi asked for the best, and only men she knew and had worked with," Luc said. "If they are attacked, those men will die protecting her."

"Mimi told me they're sticking to the back roads all the way to Paris," Callen assured him.

"If they are followed, the three cars will split up and then Burke will have to decide which one to follow. One chopper can't follow all three," Kensi said.

"If Preston Burke is even on board," Callen said as they filed back into the house.

Broussard gathered his six policemen around him and directed them to locations around the perimeter of the house, while Kensi headed upstairs to take up her position overlooking the driveway. Callen checked the array of weapons he had stacked against the front wall, his eyes occasionally straying to where Luc sat staring into the fire. When he was finished, he rose and walked to the fireplace, leaning against the mantle as he recalled the story the old man had told.

"Where's your son now, Luc?" Callen asked.

"Jean Paul was killed during a covert operation twenty three years ago," he said softly. "He was thirty-five. Deeks looks so much like him, it shook us up when we first saw him."

"I'm sorry," Callen said.

"I pray Deeks is okay," Luc said. "I know you're worried about him. Mimi and I are too."

A shout out from Kensi stopped any reply and Callen could hear the faint beat of a helicopter approaching and he moved quickly to his position by the front door. The sleek black copter buzzed the house and then flew a perimeter check before sweeping back to hover just off ground over the driveway, its side door open, exposing the heavily armed men inside. Then a large man with his arm across Deeks' chest pushed him forward, holding him tightly in front of him with a gun pointing up under his chin.

"Callen do you see him?" Kensi shouted.

"Yeah!" Callen felt cold all over, although he wasn't terribly surprised to see him. They wanted to trade him for Ruthie, but Ruthie was gone and Callen closed his eyes briefly at the pain of what that now meant for Deeks. This was no time for emotions and he shut down any that might hinder his thought process before taking control and searching his mind for solutions.

"Broussard!" he shouted. "Tell your men not to fire. They've got my agent."

He cursed as his phone rang, but he did not answer until it rang insistently again and again and he looked to see that the caller was supposedly Deeks.

"Who's this?" he asked, even though he knew.

"Don't play games Agent Callen. I'm really not in the mood," Burke said loudly. "I have Agent Deeks as you can see. Now send out my daughter or watch my man splatter his brains all over my incredibly expensive new helicopter."

"You're not going to kill your only bargaining chip," Callen reasoned.

"That's true, but I can have him shot full of holes until you send Ruth out," Burke laughed, his words slurred and angry. "Don't think I have the balls for it? Deeks doesn't, but he's not in a position to comment right now. Send her out Callen, or I'll give the order. And if you or one of your people shoot me, my man has orders to kill him. Any suggestions as to where I should shoot him first?"

Callen ended the call and looked at Broussard, who could only shrug, leaving the decision in Callen's hands.

"Kensi? Do you have a shot?" he called up to her.

"Not at the man holding Deeks," she said calmly, with just a slight tremor in her voice.

"How about the pilot?" he asked.

"Affirmative."

"When you see the man behind Deeks take the gun off him, take out the pilot," Callen instructed as he opened the front door.

"What are you doing?" Broussard asked.

"Making myself a threat," he answered as he brought his gun up.

"They'll shoot you," he said anxiously.

"I'm hoping they don't."

Callen walked outside and began moving purposefully toward the copter, his gun pointing at the man holding Deeks. He saw Deeks' eyes widened as he approached, but when Callen kept walking he started to brace himself, preparing for what was about to happen. The large man holding Deeks kept watching him, his gun hand starting to waver and Callen could tell he was deciding whether to shoot him. Callen made a quick aggressive move and the man suddenly moved his gun toward Callen and Deeks knock his aim off target just as Kensi fired. The helicopter jerked up into the air as the pilot took the bullet, throwing Deeks and his captors to the floor. The copter was rising as it spun around in a circle until Callen could see Deeks and the big man again. Deeks was on his knees and the big man had managed to get to his feet, but now had his back to him and Callen fired, hitting him with two out of three shots. As the copter spun away from him, Callen could see the big man had Deeks' sweatshirt clinched in his fist and as he fell backward out of the doorway he pulled Deeks out with him and Callen screamed his name as they fell.

Callen froze when he heard Kensi scream, but then he was running as the copter spiraled out of control toward the pasture. He stopped just short of where the two men lay motionless near one of the beech trees and sank to his knees, hardly able to breathe as his chest tightened, and he choked on sudden tears. Deeks was sprawled across the body of the big man, his hands still tightly cuffed behind him and his hair matted with blood. Then he coughed and Callen bolted for him, reaching him just as he looked up with a crooked grin on his face.

"Did that look as scary as it felt?" he asked weakly as he gasped for air.

Callen quickly cut off the plastic cuffs and pulled him gently off the man, cradling his head in the crook of his arm. Kensi and Broussard had just reached them when the helicopter plowed into the pasture, exploding into a ball of brilliant orange flames and sending the rotor blades careening into the trees.

"Sonofabitch," Deeks said. "I guess Burke was right. I am damn hard to kill."

"Him, not so much," Callen said, smiling for the first time all day.

...

...