Do you know what's worth fighting for
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away
And you feel yourself suffocating?...
When you're at the end of the road
And you've lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul...
Did you try to live on your own
When you burned down the house and home?
Did you stand too close to the fire
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?
When it's time to live and let die
And you can't get another try
Something inside this heart has died
You're in ruins

- "21 Guns," Green Day

. . .

When the bottom of the roll-up door wound up a few more inches, Sam could just make out a cluster of feet in the garage. It took more than a minute of intently staring at the activity for him to determine which ones belonged to Deeks, and to realize that one of those feet was oddly hopping in place while the other men surrounded him. He didn't need to wait for more evidence that something had gone very wrong- he knew in his gut that it had. "Deeks is in trouble!" he shouted, "I'm going in."

Sam gave no thought to his own safety, recognizing only that his brother was in danger and that he needed to do whatever it took to save him. He raced for the door to the office side of the filling station and barreled through it, shooting down the first Brother who turned and tried to pull a weapon on him.

As he rushed into the garage, he stopped, shocked and horrified to see Deeks hanging from the rope, his feet touching the ground with his knees bent and no longer supporting his weight. His face was a horrible reddish color, his tongue purple and lolling from his mouth, his arms dangling limply by his side.

Sam eyed the five guns now pointed at him. He dropped his own weapon and with his hands raised, moved wordlessly but resolutely toward his friend, hoping the Brothers would welcome a new hostage – an African American no less – more than they'd enjoy shooting him on sight. He stepped under Deeks' unconscious form, not able to tell if he was even breathing, and scooped his legs under his shoulders, lifting Deeks above him and trying to keep his body as upright as possible to loosen the noose that gripped his neck so tightly.

Jameson gestured for Sepp and Peanut to cover the front and back office doors and ordered Dexter to let the garage's roll-up door back down all the way. Sam welcomed the extra slack in the rope, but it wasn't enough to allow him to reach up and pull it away from Deeks' neck.

He was quickly distracted by the remaining men - Jameson, Dexter, and a third man - who all circled him, spewing foul, hate-filled words. Dexter threw a punch toward his torso but Sam blocked it and shoved him back. While he was doing so, Jameson, who had picked up a bat, swung it viciously at Sam's back. He staggered and his knees started to buckle, but he kept his footing and turned to face the new threat. As he did, another strike came from Dexter's side. Then the third man joined in, all three raining blows down on him with their fists. Sam saw the gleeful look in Dexter's eyes and the angry one in Jameson's, and understood at a visceral level the stew of hate in which Deeks had been swimming. He could only hope Callen would arrive quickly, before time ran out for him and Deeks.

Callen realized everything had gone to hell but focused on how to get his whole team out of this situation as quickly and safely as possible. It wasn't easy, given that his own partner had just gone rogue, storming the filling station without consulting with him. He knew that whatever had set Sam off had to be bad.

"Eric," he commanded, "Cut the power to the building, or the whole block, whatever's fastest. We need to get eyes and ears on the inside. Ehsan, jump the fence and approach the back door, but be careful- they likely have someone guarding it. Nicole, you're with me on the front. Let's go."

Sam's vision had begun to cloud and he feared he would soon fall. He wasn't sure if the lights in the garage had gone out or if he was merely losing consciousness. He fought with everything in him to stay upright, but another huge blow from the bat Dexter now held dropped him to his knees, leaving Deeks hanging limply once again. With his last remaining strength, Sam struggled to regain his feet, again propping Deeks up and putting a little slack back into the rope.

As he huffed from the effort and the pain, Sam looked on as Dexter swung the bat at his head. He couldn't escape without dropping Deeks, and instead blocked the blow with his forearm. He felt the bones shatter and the pain and shock of it dropped him to his knees once more. Before he could try again to get up, gunshots filled the air.

Once Eric had cut power to the building, Deeks' button cam had come online, giving Kensi and the whole team a glimpse of the newly dimmed garage space. They could barely make out the angry faces of Dexter, Jameson and another man who all circled slightly below Deeks. They also heard the sound coming from Deeks and Sam's comms, which revealed what appeared to be Sam taking punch after punch.

They heard nothing from Deeks and his silence screamed a soundless alarm. They struggled to understand exactly what was happening until Deeks' button cam swung downward and rested on Sam, who'd fallen below it. As the image swung slightly back and forth, they watched as Sam fought to stand and apparently, to pick Deeks up.

"Oh my god," Kensi heard Nell next to her, "they're hanging him."

All Kensi could think was No, No, No, No, No. Her entire world imploded around her, and she yelled out, "Callen, get in there now!"

Callen had listened to the sitrep from Eric and Nell on Sam and Deeks' location in the building and the number of men around them, and he, Nicole and Ehsan had started shooting at the Brothers guarding the two doors. Ehsan hit Sepp first as he covered the back door and he dropped with a bullet to the temple. Ehsan breeched the back just as Peanut turned from the front toward his fallen brother, giving Callen the opening he needed to take him down. The three agents rushed into the office and then into the garage where Nicole quickly took out the third man, who had turned to them with his weapon raised.

Callen stopped short at the dimly lit sight of his partner struggling to his feet, one arm hanging at an odd angle by his side as Deeks' clearly unconscious form hung limply from the rope attached to the ceiling. His own breath caught as he watched Dexter and Jameson move themselves behind Sam's huge frame, their weapons now drawn. Dexter even helped Sam back to his feet, back to supporting Deeks, in an effort to give himself a larger shield.

The three agents started slowly spreading themselves out in the space. Callen gasped out to the Brothers, "You've got nowhere to go. Drop your weapons now and you can live to fight another day."

Even with just the light spilling in from the two open office doors and the small gaps in the garage's boarded up windows, the vivid sight of Deeks' flushed face made it almost impossible for Callen to stay calm and give Dexter and Jameson a chance to give themselves up. He'd happily have started shooting but knew they wouldn't hesitate to kill Sam and Deeks if they thought they were going down themselves.

"Fuck you!" Dexter shouted, all the while remaining hidden behind Jameson and Sam.

"Come on, Ian," Callen said, trying to reason with the cooler of the two heads. "Think of all the new converts you can bring over to your cause while you're completing your sentence. You can have a bigger influence on the world if you stay alive than if you die in the next ten seconds, because that's all the time I'm giving you to decide."

It only took Jameson a few seconds before he threw his gun to the floor, but his surrender just seemed to make Dexter madder. "You loser, Jameson. Screw this. Screw all of you!" he shouted. Dexter moved his gun upward and pointed it at Deeks' head, but Jameson shoved him away, causing the shot to go wide of its target and giving both Callen and Nicole a clear angle to take him down. He fell to the ground with bullets to the head and chest.

Ehsan moved to take Jameson into custody as Callen leapt forward to take Deeks' weight off of Sam, who then collapsed back to the ground. Nicole grabbed a nearby stool and pulled it over, climbing on top to pull the noose from around Deeks' head, and Callen carefully lowered him to the ground.

"Be careful with his neck," Sam wheezed out.

Callen looked at Deeks' neck, which was bright red and covered in multiple scrapes, and ever so gently, with shaking hands, reached out to see if Deeks still had a heartbeat. To his happy surprise, he felt one. "I've got a pulse. It's weak, but it's there."

"He's not breathing, G," Sam said, stating the obvious, as Callen bent down to confirm the observation and start mouth to mouth. "Be careful tilting his neck," Sam continued his instructions.

Callen did as he was told and started trying to get air into Deeks' lungs as Ehsan opened up the garage doors all the way, letting sunlight in to illuminate the horror. Callen didn't think he'd ever forget Deeks' appearance, and he fought to reverse the damage that had been done to his friend. He heard Nell reporting that LAPD and ambulances had already been summoned and were only ninety seconds out.

When the first ambulance pulled into the lot, Callen stood back and watched as they took over life-saving duties. He wanted to throw up at the clear evidence of the violence Deeks had suffered. Instead, he moved to comfort his partner, who himself looked to be in poor shape. When the second ambulance arrived, Callen fell back a second time and watched the collective efforts of the EMT's caring for his friends.

Deeks felt himself floating, adrift once again. It was nighttime on the quietly bobbing waves, and he couldn't make out anything around him in the darkness. He saw nothing, but sensed an evil presence lurking just beyond the fog that swept in to further obscure his vision. He heard an eerie scraping sound and he was afraid. He knew it had come for him, and he knew there was nothing he could do to escape its judgment, and its wrath. He could only wait as the fog grew heavier and heavier, and the air colder and colder. When he finally felt an icy, bony hand taking firm hold of his neck from behind, he tried to scream but only a hoarse whisper escaped his constricted throat.

He felt hands continue to pull at him, but the gentleness of their touch surprised and comforted him. He heard voices speaking to him, but instead of hateful words, they sounded encouraging, reassuring. He let himself drift back into the floating darkness.

The angry men surrounded him, calling out vile words of hate. One taunted, "You know what you did, you were one of us." Another said, "You were my brother, but now you're just scum."

Another moved right up into his face, his red eyes ablaze with fury, and shouted, "Rats and traitors get the rope first!"

Before he knew it, a rope flew around his neck and he was pulled up, higher and higher, until he could see the landscape all around him. Burned out and demolished buildings stretched out before him across the city. Innocent people screamed as they were shot down trying to escape. His vision slowly blurred until he could only hear the fires blazing nearby, and the continuing screams. He was slowly dying. He couldn't stop the sounds of the screams from filling his mind, and he knew they'd be the last things he'd ever hear.

Slowly, over the screams in his head, he heard a familiar voice softly calling to him. "Deeks, it's OK. You're OK, baby," it said. Warm hands embraced his own, and he thought someone might have kissed his forehead, and he was confused. "Can you open your eyes for me, Deeks? Please open your eyes, baby. You're safe now."

He didn't understand where he was or what was happening. He only knew the reassuringly familiar voice brought love and safety, so he did what it told him to. It took a few tries, but he finally opened his eyes to a blurry, dimly lit space he was pretty sure was a hospital room. He saw the person with the familiar voice slowly come into focus and recognized his wife.

He closed his eyes in relief at the knowledge that Kensi was with him, and that her presence might mean his work was – finally – done. He listened as she told him how much she loved him, and a few tears fell from his eyes before unconsciousness quickly pulled him back under.

He heard his mother's voice sounding troubled and he moved to find the source of her concern. He stepped around a dumpster in a dark alley to see her being threatened by a man with a baseball bat and he leapt in front of her as the bat crashed into his chest. He collapsed in pain and looked up at his attacker to see his father's angry face telling him, "Rats and traitors, Martin, rats and traitors."

"It's OK, Martin, you're OK. Open your eyes, sweetheart," he heard his mother calling. He didn't understand what she was doing there, unless he was dying. He did as she instructed and tried to call out for Kensi, but no sounds came. His heartrate accelerated as he tried and again failed to speak, looking around to see his mother on one side of his bed and Kensi on the other.

Kensi grasped his hand firmly and told him, "It's OK, Deeks, you're OK. Stay calm for me, alright? Don't try to talk." With her other hand she carded her fingers through his hair, and in a soothing voice she instructed, "Look at me, Deeks."

He looked into her eyes and saw love and confidence and a fair bit of fatigue, but he didn't think he saw grief, and hoped that maybe he wasn't dying after all. "You're going to be fine, Deeks, you're going to be good, OK? They had to put a tube in your throat to make sure you could breathe, but it's only gonna be there for a few more days. You had surgery on your neck, on your larynx, to repair the damage. So while the tube's in place and a few days after, you won't be able to talk. You'll need to rest your voice to make sure you heal. OK?"

He felt for the tube Kensi described and realized his left wrist was in a cast. He looked at her in an effort to get more information about his injuries. She read his silent question and told him, "Your wrist is broken but it'll heal. You also have a broken kneecap that's in a cast, and you have some badly broken ribs." Tears glistened in her eyes as she continued, telling him, "You went through a lot, baby, and I'm so sorry it happened, but the doctors say you're going to make a full recovery."

He wondered why he wasn't in terrible pain from the laundry list of injuries and decided he must be on some good drugs. He had trouble remembering how he had sustained all those injuries. He knew he'd been under with the Brothers. Visions of their angry faces dancing around him, and then a tightening noose, floated through his mind, but the images failed to gel into a clear series of events. They did serve to raise his anxiety level.

The stress along with the frustration of not being able to communicate hit him forcefully and he grimaced in anger. He had so many questions, but they all floated away as quickly as they popped into his mind. He wanted to scream out his exasperation, and his inability to do so only upset him further. Kensi rubbed her fingers along his newly full beard, pulling his attention to her, and she reminded him, "Don't try to make any sounds, but remember I can read your lips, baby, so we can still communicate."

He would have blown out a breath in relief but the tube in his throat prevented any air from escaping that way. He settled on mouthing his main question, asking Kensi, "I'm not dying?"

She smiled and it was as if another light had been turned on in the dim room. He felt her hand move to ghost over his face and into his hair and he leaned into her touch as she assured him, "No, Deeks, you're not dying. You're gonna be fine... Good. You just need to rest and let us take care of you, OK?"

"It's over?" he mouthed.

"Yes, baby, it's over. You got all the bad guys and your job is done," she assured him in a voice heavy with emotion, before leaning in to kiss his forehead.

On his other side, he heard his mother talking to him, telling him how much he had scared her but that she was going to take very good care of him. He looked at Kensi and didn't even have to mouth his question, knowing she would understand he wasn't up for dealing with Roberta's anxiety. Kensi gave him an equally silent reply, a slight shrug of her shoulders and tilt of her head that indicated she understood how he felt and that his mother's presence hadn't been her idea. He felt the drugs and exhaustion pulling him back under as both women continued to try to comfort him.

Taunting men swinging knives surrounded him even as the rope around his neck grounded him in place. He knew his team was right outside and he waited for them to come. He knew they would come, it was only a matter of time. He just had to hold out a little longer. Sam and Callen wouldn't let anything happen to him, would they? Where were they? Why weren't they coming? Familiar feelings of abandonment descended as he struggled to keep himself upright and alive.

He awoke with a start and looked down to see Kensi dozing in her chair, her head resting on the bed next to his good arm. He reached out to move a few stray hairs from her face, comforted more than he'd thought possible by her presence. She stirred beneath his fingers and looked up with a smile, telling him softly, "Hey, baby. Do you need anything?"

His ribs ached through the pain meds, reminding him to stop reaching for things, but he shook his head in response and reached out for her hand. "You," he mouthed.

She took his hand and stood up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and then a second on his forehead. "I love you so much," she told him.

A question sprung to Deeks' mind, and once Kensi had moved back and could see his face, he silently asked, "Everyone else OK?"

She nodded, perching herself on the edge of the bed, and told him, "Yeah, everyone is OK… Do you remember what happened?"

"Sort of?" he replied, shrugging and then wincing at the pain it caused, making a mental note not to move that way again. "Dexter was there… Jameson. They were angry. I was made?" Kensi nodded, confirming his memory's accuracy. He continued, mouthing, "There was a noose?" The thought triggered a vivid memory of fighting against the rope as the sound of a baseball bat dragging on concrete filled the air. Deeks slammed his eyes closed and tried to fight the vision back down so he could focus on Kensi's news about the team.

She kissed him again, pulling his attention back to her, and reassured him, "You're OK now, Deeks. You're safe, baby…" As he settled down, she told him, "When we realized you were in trouble, Sam didn't hesitate to rush to your rescue. He raced into the garage and gave up his gun so he could get to you. He picked you up to get the tension out of the rope and while the rest of the team was working out the best way to breech the building, they started in on him. He took a beating but managed to keep you alive."

Tears sprung into his eyes at the knowledge that Sam had given himself up to save him. He was humbled and thankful, but then anger filled him at what the Brothers would have said and done to his friend.

Kensi continued her update, telling him, "He has a broken arm, some broken ribs, and a bunch of bruises, but he'll be fine. He's here too, due to be released in a couple days. Callen, Ehsan and Nicole are all fine." He nodded in acknowledgment of the information, grateful that no one had been killed.

"And Deeks," Kensi added, "I'm sorry about bringing your mom here. She'd been watching Delilah when it happened and I couldn't keep the news from her, I just couldn't. We didn't know if you'd be OK and you were in surgery for a long time, and I didn't think it was right to keep her in the dark. I'll try to keep her home with the kids as much as I can, OK?"

He gave a small smile and nod at her explanation, and her understanding that Bertie was a little too much for him to handle at the moment.

"Derrick knows you're in the hospital, Deeks. He keeps asking to come see you... Would you be OK with that?"

The mention of Derrick triggered sadness and confusion for Deeks. The reminder of what felt like his former life as a father overwhelmed him, as did the intensity of his love for his son and daughter. That world – his old life – felt so far away and he couldn't imagine allowing Derrick anywhere close to his current one.

He looked at Kensi pleadingly, shaking his head, mouthing, "Please, no, Kens. Can't handle that. Can't." Warm tears rolled down his cheeks at the distance he felt from his children, and the horror he felt at the prospect of exposing them to what he'd been through, and what he'd done, on his assignment. He didn't know how he'd bridge the gap, but for now, seeing Derrick was more than he could handle. "Sorry," he mouthed.

"No, baby, don't feel sorry. It's OK," she told him, leaning down to plant more soft kisses on his face, and to run her hands through his hair. "You'll be home before you know it, and we're all gonna be there to help you through this, to help you recover, and to get you back where you should be, with your family."

He couldn't picture himself back home, back to his happy life. He couldn't picture what path he could take to get there. The profound sadness he felt at being so lost kept the tears coming until exhaustion took him and he slept once more.

A/N: Many apologies for my lack of medical training and my dependence on random websites for medical information. And a giant thank you to the wonderful macgyvermedical on tumblr and ejzah (tumblr and ff), who graciously answered a number of my questions in wonderful detail. If I didn't feel so guilty about bothering them, I'd have asked even more questions and gotten this closer to reality than I'm sure it is.

And yes, I borrowed Deeks' "Sam's in trouble" line from "Descent" and gave it to Sam. Figured it was time for him to return the favor.