Author's Note:

Hi everybody. I know, long time no see (in a manner of speaking). Um, my excuse: concussion. So yeah. That's been painful, and I haven't exactly been able to write. Hope this chapter makes up for it- although it might not be that great in light of my headaches.

-C

Deeks loved his job.

It wasn't about the recognition for helping other people or the awards. Certainly the pay didn't allure people to enter the fabulous world of law enforcement. More of a personal satisfaction that came at the end of the day of knowing that one less bad guy was roaming the streets, and couldn't harm the people who didn't sign up for this.

But then there were days where it kinda sucked.

With law enforcement came the wonderful world of covert operations and deception, even if it meant lying to your friends or family. Or worse- Kensi. Those days Deeks just forgot all the happy mumbo jumbo about personal satisfaction and protecting the streets and just wanted a beer and the opportunity to sleep in the next morning.

And then, on the rare occasion (however was becoming more and more frequent), were the days were the job really, really sucked.

Like yesterday and today. When in a single instance everything you knew and held close were rapidly being snatched away. When things fall apart…it couldn't have been much worse. His close friends were out on the street, unable to call for backup from NCIS or reach out to a hospital for any medical support. The Salinas Cartel would find them too easily, and then eliminate them as well.

So right now, the priority was to remain under a cloak of darkness and reunite with their comrades. Then, their strike to complete the mission, and perhaps a little revenge thrown in, would commence.

"Okay, Deeks, think. What do you remember about the Salinas Cartel?" He spoke aloud, pacing in front of a bare wall in the bedroom. He reached over with his good arm and took another spoonful of peanut butter, the only food the blond was able to find in the cover house. There had been no time for food, and he was starving.

"Tumo Salinas, last known leader," he muttered. He took the sharpie and quickly scribbled the name near the ceiling. "Second in command is Alvaroe, first name unknown."

He added that underneath Tumo Salinas's and drew a line connecting the two.

"There are three other familial connections within the main branch of the cartel. Antonio, Diego, and Ernesto Salinas."

Heart pounding, he wrote another name up on the wall. He stared at the messy letters and found himself standing nose to nose with the name. His eyes narrowed even further. "And I know you. Marcus Paley. Cop killer."

Kensi groaned, her head feeling as if something was pounding against her skull to get out. She groped for something, anything, to give her support. Loose gravel and rubble slipped through her fingers like sand.

"Callen?" she coughed, her eyes not yet adjusting to the fiery blaze from the store. After searching blindly with her hands for a few moments, she located a mass a few yards away from her.

She propelled herself forward with her good leg and collapsed next to Callen. Kensi flipped him on his back, trying to shake him awake.

"Come on, Callen!"

He was just stirring when she noticed the enormous shard of glass protruding from his abdomen.

"Oh no," she murmured, and put pressure around the wound.

Suddenly, somebody yanked her back by the shoulders threw her to the ground. Her vision was swimming with distorted color and images. She reached for some sort of weapon, anything would do, and found the metal of her gun. A foot clamped down on her wrist, stopping her from grasping it.

Headlights came exploding from around the corner accompanied by the sound of squealing tires. The cartel members dodged left and right to get out of the way, but Kensi couldn't count on the person in the car to be an ally. Kensi scrambled to her feet, lifted a disoriented Callen to a standing position, and looked left and right for a way out.

It was blaring headlights into their faces. A middle-aged man climbed out of the car, gaping at the scene.

Kensi screamed at him, "Get back in the car!"

The man eyed her gun for a brief moment before obeying. Kensi shoved Callen into the backseat ducked as a bullet shattered a window behind her. She returned fire briefly before diving into the vehicle as well, the driver taking off with tires squealing.

"Please, I don't want any trouble," he begged as Kensi slammed the door shut.

"We're federal agents sir, and I need you to calm down."

"Okay, okay, just please put your gun away," the man sobbed.

Feeling bad for the guy, Kensi did as he requested. "What's your name?"

"Brian. Listen, I don't know what happened back there, but those guys were shooting at us!"

"Kens?" Callen finally came round, grasping his stomach.

"Callen, quick, I need to know the address of the secondary safe house," Kensi said with concern.

He muttered the location before his head lolloped to the side once again.

Kensi repeated it to the driver up front. "Can you get us within five blocks of that?"

Brian nodded and sped off into the night. It didn't take too long before he threw the car in front of a dimly lit house. Kensi noticed that the sun was just rising above the clouds.

"Ditch the car and find a way home," Kensi said as parting words before dragging Callen out of the vehicle.

They had a rough start getting onto the curb, as both agents grunted with pain. Kensi's ankle felt like molten lead, unwilling to take another step forward. "Come on, Callen, I need you to pull your own weight here."

"Well this isn't exactly easy for me either," Callen mumbled.

"I can take the glass out," Kensi offered, stopping short.

"No," he protested. "We can't get blood or leave evidence anywhere if possible. The Salinas Cartel managed to find Ops. How connected do you think they are?"

Kensi grimaced. "Point taken."

"Move in step. I have a bullet in my left leg and your right ankle is broken. One of us supports the other when we move."

Kensi wasn't sure if Callen could take it with glass in his stomach, but she leaned more heavily on him anyways. Her head was spinning, and it wouldn't be long before her leg gave out completely from the searing agony.

They limped on, leaving their unwilling accomplice far behind them. Each step sent a new and worsening shot of pain through their already fatigued bodies. Five blocks seemed like five miles.

"I might pass out before we get there," Callen suddenly gasped. "It's a one story white house, the third from the corner. Spruce Street."

"Don't pass out on me," Kensi pleaded. "I can't drag the both of us there."

They were left in silence, as both became deadweight. Callen accidently rammed them into a street sign, for he could no longer keep his head raised. Kensi lifted her eyes to the words. Spruce Street.

Her eyes drifted towards a single story white house.

So close…

"Come on," Kensi said, with a new surge of strength.

They dragged on towards the structure. The two slipped on the wet grass from the morning dew and tumbled over each other in the front lawn. A man down the street eyed them warily as he headed into work.

Kensi crawled towards the front door with an arm underneath Callen's arms and hauled him behind her. Wordlessly, they managed to rise once more, leaning heavily on the doorframe. The brunette slammed her hand against the door three times, and waited.

Whoever, if anyone, was in the house must have not heard them. Kensi let her back fall against the door. Suddenly, it disappeared from under her, and she was caught by something else.

"Kensi!" A voice exclaimed.

"Deeks," Kensi replied, out of breath. Her eyes flickered from Deeks's looming face above hers and back at Callen. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, his hands wrapped around the shard of glass.

"Oh God, Callen," Deeks said. He propped Kensi up against the coffee table the best he could with one good arm and then turned his attention to their team leader, who pulled out the glass with a cry of agony. Callen let the bloodied glass slip from his fingers as he sank to his knees.