Thank you to those following this story and leaving me your thoughts! There is a little bit of violence in this chapter - sorry about that. I have tried not to go into gory details... torture scenes always make me distinctly uncomfortable, so much like in the show I have tried to gloss over the worst of the violence!

In response to anonkp's review on the last chapter, I agree, it does feel like the last straw for Kensi and Deeks. I'm afraid I'm not too sure that I will be putting them back together, at least not immediately. Sorry to all Densi lovers out there, but to me, after that fight in the parking structure before they left for Mexico, it feels like their issues run too deep at the moment to be easily fixed. They both want different things... I don't know how you get past that in order to get married... To quote Deeks in that spectacularly emotional fight 'These are big questions, don't you think?' ...

If the recent spoilers are correct, it looks like the writers of S10 will have the answers, even if I don't here!

CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning dawned all too soon for Callen. Stiff and uncomfortable, he raised a weary head and moved to sit up on the battered old couch he had spent most of the night on, trying with little success to sleep. The pounding behind his eyes had lessened, but as he blinked to clear his vision he found his left eye slightly swollen and unable to open fully. Squinting in the dim light, he made a careful exploration of the rest of his body. Bumps and bruises, but nothing had worsened from the previous evening. No internal bleeding to worry about. An itching cut on his lip, burst open again where Arlo Turk had already landed a punch. He ran his tongue round his teeth and was relieved to discover none of them felt damaged. The same couldn't be said for his ribs. He pressed his bound hands to them as he stiffly got to his feet, unable to suppress a groan. The Mexicans had been careful in their beating, in that they had avoided all his major organs, but he felt battered and bruised from shoulder to groin. He cursed in several languages below his breath, using the fire behind the words to fuel his movements about the small bathroom. After splashing his face and cupping his hands to drink from the tap, he eased his trousers down and awkwardly managed to rinse the cut in his leg where the shrapnel from the exploding SUV had caught him, pleased to see there were as yet no signs of infection in the wound.

His biggest problem, beyond the situation he was in which he had to admit wasn't great, was his still throbbing left arm. Being bound to his right all night had in a way acted as splint for the broken bone, but the pain every time he moved it was going to hinder any escape attempts, and he felt frustrated that there was nothing he could do to support the limb or ease the pain. He ran the cold tap and held his arms under there for as long as he could stand, hoping to reduce any inflammation as best he could. He was unable to push his sleeves up due to his hands being tied together, so he ended up with both sleeves soaked through, but he figured the continuing dampness would serve as a cold compress, and in any case it was the least of his concerns. He felt fairly sure Spencer Williams would return to question him today, and he returned to sit quietly on the couch, trying to steel himself mentally for the interrogation he knew would come, and certainly wouldn't be pleasant.

NCIS:LA

Kensi crept quietly through the bush, feeling more at peace with herself than she had done for several days. Her new plan, and she had to admit the time alone away from Deeks, gave her the room to breathe freely, to not feel trapped in the turmoil she felt every time she was near him. She couldn't deny her love for him, and how hurt she had felt when in that desperate fight in the car park he had told her he didn't think they should get married. Did he really mean it? He said he loved her, and she knew she loved him. But they wanted such different things. Could they come back from that? She wasn't sure, and it had been troubling her ever since. She liked how things were. She loved her relationship with him. Loved working with him every day. Loved his irritating wonderfulness, his loyalty, his integrity. His hair and his smile and how he always, always had her back. Even though he wanted out. She knew he wanted out, he had done for a long time. She got the feeling he was only staying for her, and it was breaking both of them. She couldn't leave her job for him, so was it fair to expect him to stay in his job for her?

Shaking her head, Kensi realised she was getting side-tracked with her emotions again, and she'd decided she wasn't going to do that. She gave herself a mental kick, and focused on what she was trying to do. A reconnoitre of the area around the compound. Check for signs that Callen was still being kept there. See if anything had changed since they'd scouted the area before going in for Derrick – more guards, more guns. Anything that would help her team. Assuming she could get in contact with them of course. For the first time, Kensi realised she hadn't really thought that part of her plan through, still using it as justification for her rash flee from Deeks but knowing deep down that really she should have stayed with him and Sam, should have stuck to Callen's original plan and instructions to all get out together while he bought them time.

NCIS:LA

Held immobile by two strong Mexicans and with his hands still tied, Callen was unable to defend himself as he once again suffered a beating at the hands of General Vasquez's men. Amidst their blows he was yelled at in Spanish, questioned, commanded to tell them why he was there, what he was doing. He remained silent, defiantly holding the stare of the fuming General. The man's anger towards him seemed out of proportion, which didn't make it any easier to bear the violent fists making contact with him.

He lost track of how long the men continued to question him for. Eventually, as if called away by a whistle, the men suddenly stopped and the two holding him upright released their grip, so that he sank to the floor feeling bruised and shaky. He concentrated on his breathing, shallow and regular, determined not to throw up the small amount of water he had managed to drink earlier in the morning. Ignoring him, the men stood by the door, talking in rapid, hushed voices which Callen couldn't be bothered to try and overhear. He caught one of them mentioning Williams' name, and sighed to himself with resignation. Well, he had known the man would come, hadn't he? And if Spencer Williams was here interrogating him, then he wasn't chasing all over Mexico making life unpleasant for his team. This was what he had hoped would happen, and he would deal with it.

As prepared as Callen thought he was, the sight of Spencer Williams walking through the door sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, but like the true agent he was, he kept his face passive, even as he saw that Williams recognised him. There was a new and violent intensity about the man, even though Callen had dealt with him before and knew he was not a force to be taken lightly. Williams strode angrily across to him, nodding at two of the men who once again hauled Callen to his feet and held him in a vice-like grip in the centre of the barren room.

"Who the hell are you?" Williams demanded in a low, fierce voice. Callen silently held his stare. "Who. Are. You?" Williams repeated, giving a silent nod to one of his muscle men, who delivered a short sharp jab into Callen's ribs. Callen gasped as the breath rushed out of him, but remained silent.

"You infiltrated my security team," Williams continued, his voice cold and hard, growing in intensity as he spoke. "Why? To get close to me? To find out about my son? MY SON, so that you could kidnap him?"

Callen allowed his eyes to show the briefest flicker to indicate to Williams that he was on the right track, and suddenly Williams exploded, taking to Callen with his own fists, pummelling him, yelling furiously, demanding to know who he was working for and why. Callen bit his lip and held his silence, and eventually, used to commanding others to do the physical work for him, Williams backed away.

"Where is he?" He demanded. "Where is my son? You will tell me, so help me God!"

The two men stared at each other, neither backing down. Eventually, Williams seemed to sense that although Callen was smaller, tired and beaten, he wasn't going to get the information he wanted out of him by using his fists. He beckoned again to the General's men hovering behind him, and one of them stepped forward, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and flicking it casually. A large flame roared and slowly died.

"Take off his shirt!" Williams commanded, and Callen found strong arms roughly pulling his dusty, blood-stained khaki shirt over his head and down his arms, stopped at the wrists by the ropes tying his hands. Giving him no chance to protest they did the same with the t-shirt he wore underneath and then quicker than he was able to process a length of rope was passed between his wrists and tied to a beam above him. His arms were hoisted above his head so that he had no choice but to stand bare-chested while the man with the lighter advanced, grinning nastily as he held the flame to Callen's skin. Callen all but screamed, and Spencer Williams smiled coldly.

"You had help," he stated. "A team. The girl with the horses… she was with you." He said it coldly, stating facts, waiting for Callen to confirm.

"No." Callen panted, and his voice was hoarse from pain as much as lack of use. "No team. I work alone."

"The girl…" Williams was adamant. "I saw her with my own eyes. That was no horsewoman. She attacked me, and escaped with my son while you and your team fought with my guards."

Dammit, Callen cursed. What had Kensi done to Williams? The man with the lighter stepped away, and Callen tried not to show relief. The burnt area on his stomach, just below his ribs, felt like it was still on fire and it took all his concentration to appear unconcerned, not to drop his head and see how badly he'd been burnt. He didn't think for a second it was yet over.

"No team," he repeated. "Just a girl... from the local stables. I paid her to get your son out of the house."

"The General's men tell me two of you escaped on horses. Two men. You have a team." Callen licked his lips and did his best to look broken.

"I had a driver," he admitted eventually. "He died in the car."

"It's interesting," Spencer Williams said slowly, "That you will answer questions about your team. Trying to throw me off... Do I need to send my men out there to search the desert?" Callen remained silent, watching the guard with the lighter with trepidation as he advanced again. But just before the flame touched his skin, they all heard scuffling and voices outside the door, echoing in the hallway. "Stop!" Williams commanded, turning away from Callen and crossing to the door, throwing it wide open.

Callen froze as he heard Kensi's voice, crying, feigning subservience, speaking quickly in accented Spanish but it was definitely Kensi. He strained to hear her. Why was she here? Had his whole team been caught? Dammit, this wasn't the plan!

"I don't know why you've brought me here!" he heard Kensi sob in Spanish. "I've been lost for over two days. These two guys, they stole my truck, my horses… I just need to get home!" Callen had to give it to her, she could spin a story. It didn't sound like Sam and Deeks were with her, which could be good news or bad. He braced himself as he heard Kensi come closer to the door, only to be greeted by Williams.

"There's someone in here who can help you," he said roughly, and Callen watched in dismay as Kensi was shoved hard through the door, sprawling to the ground in front of him. "Maybe the two of you can get your stories straight before we talk again."