Author's Note:
Enjoy! Thank you everybody! Feed-back means a lot to me, so please let me know what you think- even if it's to correct me!
-C
"Kensi!?" Deeks called, throwing open the door. He heard Sam's mutter of disproval, but the blond really didn't care. He was having a really, really bad day and all that mattered at this point was finding his partner.
"Just announce to the world that we're here, would you?" Sam glowered. His intense training protocols were just violated to every sense of the final degree. The ex-Navy SEAL shut the door behind them softly and pocketed the keys.
Deeks ignored Sam and continued to search the barren house. It was a little better than some of the safe houses he had stayed at, but certainly wasn't meant to be a home to anyone. He trotted into the kitchen only to find a fridge, a stove, a sink, and a microwave. There weren't even any chairs to accompany the fold-up card table.
He turned around to say something to Sam; the special agent was nowhere to be seen. Deeks poked his head down the hall and saw the man returning from the bathroom with several towels and a med kit.
"Sit on the couch. I'm going to have to fix your arm," he said.
Deeks couldn't help but gulp. He didn't do well with needles.
He found himself following the older man's instructions anyway.
"Here," Sam placed a wadded up wash cloth in Deeks's good hand.
"What's this for?"
The look Sam gave him answered the question. "That bad?"
"We don't want to alarm the neighbors," he replied seriously.
Deeks nodded, mentally preparing himself. He folded the cloth and clenched it between his teeth.
Sam placed one firm hand behind Deek's shoulder and the other on his upper arm. With a firm jerk, Deeks felt the joint click back together with excruciating pain. His cry was still loud, even when muted by the towel. When he thought he was ready, Deeks removed the cloth and threw it against the couch cushions.
"Try extending it," Sam encouraged.
With a grunt, Deeks forced his arm forward so it was nearly in his make-shift doctor's lap.
Sam nodded, as if approving his own handiwork. He reached into the med kit and pulled out a needle and thread. When turning back to Deeks, the military man laughed at his paling face.
"I'm glad you find amusement out of my pain," Deeks snapped good-naturedly.
Sam gave him a sullen smirk, "We need something to smile about even in these kinds of situations."
"What are you laughing about?" Callen asked with a grunt as they limped forward another step.
"We just passed a restaurant Deeks and I order from a lot," Kensi grinned through a face full of blood and pain.
"All the way out here? Ow, ow, ow!" Callen broke off, exclaiming as they failed to clear a curb leading to a parking lot.
"You good?"
"Fine."
Kensi looked at the cheap motel that they had chosen as their hiding place. The parking lot was paved with cigarette ash and beer bottles, and the neon sign advertising the joint read: MOL. Occasionally the 'T' would flicker to life with those pulsing red lights. A couple, an old man and a woman way too young for him, were getting extremely intimate on the hood of a pizza delivery car.
"It's the only place we can get the Drunken Pigs," Kensi continued to explain.
"Drunken what?"
Kensi didn't try to describe their Yummy Yummy Heart Attack nights further. She supported Callen the best she could on his left side, but the pain was intensifying in her ankle. Frankly she was amazed she made it this far without passing out.
They were approaching the desk when Kensi said, "Wait out here."
Callen stopped her. "You'll need this." He slapped a wad of bills into her palm. It might have been enough to get them through one night, but there would be no change left over. Kensi pocketed it and tucked the gun in her waistband.
"I'll be back."
Her ankle protested any kind of movement, but she trudged on. An obese man with grease stains on his gray shirt was manning the front desk. He eyed Kensi hungrily, making her wriggle with disgust. She limped over to him and nearly collapsed against the counter.
"I need a room for the night," she gritted through her teeth.
"What happened to you, Sugar?" The man questioned.
"Surfing accident. Can you give me a room or not?"
"That's gonna be…"
His words came out empty to Kensi. Her whole leg was trembling and the already unbearable agony was getting worse. She felt like throwing up.
"Are you listening to me sweetheart?" The clerk demanded. "I said that's gonna be eighty-five bucks for the night. A hundred for no name," he winked.
Kensi was running out of patience. Her vision was blurred vermillion and her head pounded.
She slapped fifty dollars on the counter and swept her shirt aside to show her weapon. "How about fifty and you keep all your blood on the inside of your body?"
His piggish eyes darted from the weapon to Kensi's perspiring face. He took a key off the rack and threw it to her as if merely doing so would make him get some terrible disease. After grumbling a curt thank-you, Kensi limped towards the door. Her leg finally gave out and she fell against the glass door with a grunt.
She didn't remember how, but she was suddenly lying face up on the ground. And then everything spun together until a curtain of darkness fell unto her.
"Advil?" Sam proffered, holding out his palm with the tiny orange pills.
Deeks nodded gratefully and accepted the pain relievers. After dry-swallowing them, Sam joined him on the couch next to him. The ex-Navy SEAL didn't realize that the program the detective was so eagerly watching was a news report on a gas explosion. If only civilians knew that it was caused by a cartel. If only they knew that dozens died working in that building. Two days ago, or any other year.
"I wish I could say that I knew they'd be okay," Deeks finally spoke over the news reporter.
"Kensi and Callen?"
"Yes, but they're not the only ones, Sam. What about Eric and Nell? Hetty? What if they have injuries worse than this?" Deeks moved his bandaged arm, which was now in a sling. "They beat us."
"Maybe," Sam acknowledged. "But we're not dead. And as long as that remains, we keep fighting."
Kensi heard the television blaring and the smell of blood in the air when she first awoke. Her reflexes kicked in, and she immediately bolted up. Instead of finding herself in danger, Kensi was in an uncomfortable bed in a dirty motel room. She located Callen through the open bathroom door. His leg was propped up against the counter and was cleaning out the gun shot wound.
"Callen?" Kensi croaked, her throat dry.
He retracted his leg from the sink area and limped towards her. "Are you alright?"
"My ankle hurts like a bitch."
The team leader chuckled, but cut off when something on the news caught his attention.
"Up next, more on the gas explosion at the condemned building. The final flames were put out in the early hours of last night soon after the authorities arrived. As of now, there seems to be limited casualties from pedestrians walking by, but nothing is confirmed."
There was an outdated clip of a burning building consuming the small television screen. Kensi found herself gaping at it.
"That's-"
"OSP," Kensi finished with a hollow heart. "Everybody's gone."