A little angst and whump that I wrote in May for my friend mashmaiden, in thanks for always helping me figure things out.


He's not going to make it. All morning, Deeks has been trying to keep it together, but he's quickly losing that battle. He'd forced through the debriefing in OPS, focusing on Kensi's presence beside him, letting her voice and familiar scent ground him.

He's not sure what set him off in the first place this time; maybe it was a sound, or a scent (must, motor oil, and expensive cologne are the most likely culprits). Honestly, at this point it doesn't really matter. The majority of his attention is focused on ignoring the phantom sensation of pain radiating through his jaw and keeping any physical reactions hidden from Kensi and the witness they're interviewing.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, do you know anyone who would have wanted to harm your husband?" he asks, voice a little more terse than normal. Inhaling deeply, Deeks stretches his neck. His collar feels too tight, constricting, his neck. He discreetly tugs top button to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn't help though.

"—got along well with most people. I think everyone has a few enemies or someone they don't get along with." Mrs. Hawthorne answers. Deeks nods appropriately, even though he missed the first half of her answer.

"Were those enemies strong enough to want him dead?" Kensi asks.

"I mean, there was a colleague who—"

His skin prickles with a mixture of heat and cold. It comes in short flashes as flashes of things he never wants to remember flicker at the edge of his mind. He breathes out slowly again.

Something nudges his arm, and he startles, arm jerking out defensively before his mind figures out that it's Kensi and he's been staring without saying anything for too long. Mrs. Hawthorne is staring at him with her head slightly tilted; he has no idea what she just said or how many questions have gone by.

"Um…" Deeks manages hoarsely. Thankfully, Kensi leans forward, covering for him. He doesn't catch the odd look she flashes him.

"Now this may be a little difficult for you to look at, but do you recognize any of these men in these pictures?" Kensi pulls out three pictures of men with head and facial wounds.

Deeks' eyes are drawn to the cut on one of the victim's cheeks, blood staining his mouth and skin. His breath catches in his throat, and he's assaulted by the memory of being tied down, hands on his face, metal in his mouth, the taste of blood. Choking on blood. Endless screaming.

"'Scuse me," he gasps out. Somehow, he manages to get out of the room and through the front door before he's completely hyperventilating. Stumbling, Deeks' back fetches up hard the house, fingers gripping futilely at the siding. He's too far gone to notice the pain of impact or the heat of afternoon sun on his skin.

His dad fist connects with his chest, knocking his much smaller body off-balance. A bullet pierces Deeks' chest. Kensi nearly dies in a fiery explosion.

Deeks desperately tries to focus on something tangible, anything, before Sidorov takes hold of him again.

"Deeks, are you alright?"

He jerks as Kensi touches his face, her hands shocking him out of the all-consuming flashback.

"Mm," Deeks murmurs, nodding with his eyes clamped shut. He focuses on her voice as she says something else, just like he did in the garage. Even so, it's still hard to breathe and he feels lightheaded, shaking like he's been plunged into icy water.

"Ok, hey, just take a deep even breath. Count to five and then let it out," Kensi instructs him. Nodding again, he does as she asks long enough that he doesn't feel so much like he'll pass out.

Slowly, Deeks opens his eyes, head still propped against the house as he stares directly into Kensi's eyes. She looks completely freaked out.

"I'm alright," he forces out, even though it's so far from the truth.

"What happened?" Her brows furrow as she cups his cheeks, thumbs absently brushing the line of his jaw.

The, uh, it was the, um, the pictures." Even saying the word makes another shudder through him. "Mouth wounds caught me off-guard. I'll be fine."

"Oh my god, Deeks. If I'd known—"

"It's not your fault," he interrupts quickly. "I just need another minute and then I'll be good to finish."

"Deeks, I don't think that's a good idea," Kensi says hesitantly, her concern almost undoing him. Pulling on the ragged edges of his control, he forces himself upright.

"Kensi, I appreciate you looking out for me, but if you don't mind, I'd really want to forget the last 10 minutes." His words come out a little more harshly than he intended. Kensi's hand falls away, hurt coloring her features for a second before she hides it away with the iron control she's famous for.

"Ok," she agrees. "I'll see you inside."

It's only when she's safely inside again that he lets himself go slack again.