Firstly - I am soooooo sorry it's taken so long to update this! I've been having a flare up of an on-going health issue and have consequently very frustratingly had some Writers Block... I hope to be back in the game now, and thank you for your patience!

Anonymous, thank you so much for your lovely review! I was amazed that Hetty vocalised to Mosely so baldly what she felt for Callen, and I desperately hope that's going to be picked up on in season ten... It was certainly a part of the inspiration behind this story.

CHAPTER FOUR

They took turns on guard while the others tried to rest, splitting the time into ninety minute shifts. It wasn't long enough, but Callen wanted to get his team on the move again well before the sun came up and the General's men came again in pursuit. He knew Sam wasn't in a good way, and Kensi and Deeks weren't much better off. His team insisted he took the first watch so he'd have plenty of time to rest before he set out on his own, but pain and adrenaline prevented him from getting any real sleep.

Sam had taken the last shift, and as he took over from Kensi he watched Callen moving restlessly where he had curled up at the base of a large rock. He couldn't tell if Callen was sleeping or not, but long before Sam's time was up, Callen sidled over to join him.

"You don't have to do this, G," Sam pleaded in a hushed voice, not wanting to disturb Kensi and Deeks who had both somehow managed to fall asleep.

"You got a better plan?" Callen whispered wearily, settling himself down next to his partner.

"Yeah, we stick together."

"You and I both know that'll only end with all four of us getting caught or killed before the day is out."

"But you're injured, G…"

"We're all injured Sam. Can you honestly say that you, or Kensi or Deeks, are better placed to draw the General's men away?"

"I hate it when you're so rational," Sam grumbled.

"You hate it when you know I'm right." Despite their situation, a faint smirk crossed Callen's face as he spoke.

"I don't like it, G."

"No." Callen paused. "Get them home, Sam. All of you. Get yourselves home. And…" Callen paused, the slightest break in his voice. "Make it right with Hetty, will you? Don't let her do anything daft."

"You're not expecting to make it out!" Sam exclaimed.

"Shhhh. Don't wake the children!" Callen looked over at Kensi and Deeks, but they were undisturbed.

"G!"

"Of course I'll make it out. You'll come and rescue me," Callen said with a smile. Sam shook his head.

"As if I could stop Hetty from doing anything," he muttered.

NCIS:LA

The two men sat without speaking until a little later when Callen rose stiffly to rouse Kensi and Deeks. It was still dark. They staggered unwillingly to their feet. Deeks swayed a little as he made it to vertical and Callen noticed but didn't comment. As Kensi moved to step forward she winced and bit her tongue to prevent herself from yelping.

"Shit, baby, what is it?" Deeks was instantly concerned.

"My leg," Kensi gasped in pain. "My ankle. It's stiffened up overnight." She gingerly put some weight down through her left leg again. "I can walk, Callen," she tried desperately to reassure her team leader, but his look of concern showed he didn't totally believe her.

Sam, too, was struggling. Inwardly, Callen cursed. He needed to know his team would be safe. He offered his right hand down to Sam, and somehow between the two of them Sam was able to scramble to his feet. He put a hand on Callen's shoulder and moved him a pace away, trying again to convince him they should stay together. They had a hushed and rapid argument, which ended with Callen passing Sam the spare magazine of bullets he had stowed in a pocket as he turned and started to limp back in the direction they'd come, back towards the burning car. In the darkness they could easily make out the glow of the wreck still quietly smouldering, showing just how little ground they had managed to cover, how little margin they currently had for safety.

With a heavy sigh, Sam stepped back towards Kensi and Deeks and the three of them watched Callen disappear into the night. Reluctantly, hoping it wouldn't be the last time he saw his partner alive, Sam motioned for them to start moving in the opposite direction. If they stayed down in the gully they had a chance of escaping unseen, finding their way to the road and friendlier territory, as long as Callen could buy them some time. Sam refused to let himself think of what the General and his men would do with Callen once they got him. They both knew his capture was inevitable. It was the only way they stood a chance of any of them escaping, so Callen would make sure of it. Better one than all four, Callen had said, and Sam hated it, but knew he was right. They had no hope if the cartel caught up to all four of them, but maybe this way there was a chance, a very slight chance, they'd all return home. He only hoped the General's men would consider Callen valuable enough not to kill him on first sight. Sam gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg and determined that they would, he would, return for Callen. Leave no one behind. He would return for Callen, dead or alive, and whether he had Hetty's help or not.

NCIS:LA

Callen stumbled back past the burning car and took cover in the gully the other side of the road from where he'd sent his team, heading back along the track he had created before in his ruse to draw the men away only hours ago. As the horizon started to glow a soft orange with the rising sun, he leant back against the slope and took another look at his leg. It was still bleeding, but not badly, and though he trusted Sam's medical field knowledge, he decided the metal wasn't deeply embedded, hadn't hit anything major. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it out, quickly putting pressure on the wound with both hands, which hurt like hell but kept the bleeding under control. After a minute or two, he stood again and gingerly put weight through his leg. As long as walking didn't start it all bleeding again he'd be able to move quicker without the metal catching him every step. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, feeling the blood mix with sweat and dust and dirt. What he would give for a shower, a change of clothes. A beer on the beach with his team. Clenching his jaw at the thought of Sam and the others, he started moving again. In the distance, he thought he heard shouts and the noise of engines, and he hoped, he prayed, that his team would keep their heads down, keep moving, and stay safe.

It didn't take as long as Callen hoped before he heard the General's men close behind him. He dropped down to the ground and looked searchingly through the scrub to assess the threat. Two men. Both large, and both armed. He inwardly groaned. He needed them to focus their attention on him, needed to give Sam as much time as he could. He slithered in an arc that brought him round behind the men and waited silently until they stopped to examine the point where his trail through the bushes had petered out. Quickly he rose and used the butt of his rifle to viciously hit the man nearest to him at the base of the skull. Almost without a sound the man dropped to the ground, and his partner turned on Callen, but Callen was ready and spun behind the surprised Mexican, clutching his injured arm round the thick neck while his free hand pulled the knife he had stowed in his boot and held it to the man's throat.

"Quietly!" he warned in Spanish, and unexpectedly the man obeyed. Callen kicked his ankles, forcing him to move forwards, keeping a firm hold of both the knife and his arm round the man's neck. The pain was extreme but he used it to focus his mind solely on his task. He wished he had something to tie the man's hands with. In this awkward fashion they continued moving, with Callen's only thought being that he wanted to put as much space between where he was and his team moving in the opposite direction as he could before he lost his advantage over the enemy.

NCIS:LA

The heat burned down on them like a battering ram, and Deeks paused again to wipe the sweat from his brow. He felt dizzy and nauseous and his vision would occasionally blur. His head pounded. But still they all struggled on. They had no choice. He focused his gaze on Sam a pace ahead of him, refraining from proposing again that they should rest. His earlier suggestion had gone down like a lead balloon as Sam doggedly led them onwards.

They were moving so slowly now. Not that they had ever been travelling fast. Deeks was sure Sam's leg was still bleeding, though his trousers were now so stained with blood it was impossible to tell new from old. Kensi was still limping but she had refused Deeks' support, lost in her own desperate thoughts. He glanced back at her and she looked up at him at the same moment and gave him a small smile. He thought his heart might break in two, right there in the desert. The harsh, barren land with only passing sights of green was a metaphor for their relationship at the moment. He wanted so badly to take her in his arms, to hug her, to save her from the emotional torment he knew she was putting herself through. He faltered, taking a short stride so that she caught up to him.

"It'll be okay," he whispered, trying to comfort her.

"Will it? Will it, Deeks? Callen…" she choked back a sob. "What if they shoot first and ask questions later? What if Williams is still there and recognises him?" She kept her voice low so that Sam wouldn't hear her. She knew how desperate he was feeling at leaving his partner behind. "And we have no idea where we're going. We've lost contact with Ops, we've got barely any weapons, and none of us are in a fit state to fight. We don't know anyone here who can help us. How is it going to be okay?"

Deeks was silent for a long time. His head was spinning, from his concussion, from the heat, from his almost paralysing concern for her. He brushed his hand tentatively against Kensi's, afraid of being shunned, but it was as if the small physical contact broke her and she turned desperately to him with her eyes full of tears. He reached a gentle finger up to brush a stray one away, leaving a pale track down her dust-covered cheek, and he wasn't sure if she flinched at his touch or if it was just his trembling hand.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, and even he didn't know if he was talking about their struggling relationship, or about the fate that might befall them all in that hostile place.