Another one! Your support for this series has been absolutely mindblowing, the amount of reviews has been staggering; it never fails to brighten my day. Hope that you'll continue to be awesome, and will enjoy this chapter.
All the best, Cape
Hetty was sitting at her desk drinking some calming chrysanthemum tea, which she had acquired from one of her trips to China many a year ago. She had just gotten off the phone with one of her contacts from within the agency, whom hadn't been too keen to hear the voice of operational manager. However, after a not so gentle reminder that she was owed a favor from him, he assured her that he would allocate some resources to see if they had any information regarding the present location of Jonah Troyger.
She allowed herself a few minutes to sit back and enjoy the steaming beverage, before she pushed out of her chair and made way for the Ops Center. The metallic doors pushed aside and she stepped into the modern room. She saw the technical operator as well as the intelligence analyst hard at work, completely focused and typing so furiously on their keyboards, that they didn't notice the noisy, automatic doors open.
Allowing herself a slight smile over her employees' diligence, she cleared her throat, catching the attention of both Eric and Nell.
"You have done excellent work today," she started. "But you will not be able to continue in doing so, if you burn yourself out. I'd like for you both to head home, get some rest, and return here tomorrow at nine o'clock."
"Hetty we can't," Nell commented incredulously. "Troyger is still out there and-"
"And he will still be out there tomorrow as well," she interrupted the intelligence analyst. "It wasn't a request, both of you need to go home, get some sleep. It will be another long day tomorrow."
She understood their unwillingness to leave the room, their unwillingness to stop their search for the bastard, who had hurt their friend beyond comprehension, but she couldn't allow either of the two technical geniuses to burn out, when such important matters were at stake.
Knowing they were beaten, the technical tag-team started shutting down for the evening. They knew she was right logically, but that didn't mean they had to agree emotionally. They would still have Kaleidoscope running, tracking movements in case the man's Jaguar should reappear. They had also contacted all public transport stations and airports in a two hundred mile radius, telling them to be on lookout for both Troyger and Galvan, so unless he crossed unseen into Mexico, they knew he wouldn't be able to leave the country.
Satisfied that they had covered their bases, at least for the night, Eric turned to their operations manager, "You'll go home as well, right Hetty?"
"Of course, Mr. Beale," she lied easily, knowing fully well that she would be around for at least a few more hours to pull some additional strings.
"Good," the blond allowed himself a smile. "Well goodnight, Hetty."
"Goodnight you two," she nodded them off.
...
When they reached their respective cars in the parking lot, both Eric and Nell were hit with a reluctance to head home. Having noticed the feeling in his partner as well, the blond surfer made his way over to the tiny, pixie-like woman.
"Are you okay?" He asked, knowing fully well the answer based off the shimmering in her eyes.
"Not really, no," she admitted, shaking her head without making eye contact.
"I know this isn't one of our 'on-nights'," he caught the attention of his partner. "But would you like to perhaps stay in my place for tonight?" He asked somewhat nervously.
They had been spending a lot more time together outside of work, as their partnership slowly evolved into a relationship. Although they still had many milestones to cross, neither could deny the growing emotional connection between them.
"I would like that," she smiled upon the tall man. "Thank you, Eric," she told him, as she wrapped him into a fierce hug.
"Anytime, Ununoctium," he assured her. "Anytime."
...
She was awoken instantly by the slight squeaking of the door, even though she had been sound asleep, her subconscience had still been on high alert. A quick glace over to her boyfriend revealed that he was still in fitful sleep, her glare then shifted towards the slowly opening door. Even though Hetty had ordered two officers stationed at the end of the hospital's hallway, her hand still moved to the small of her back, grabbing the handle for her weapon in preparation for who was arriving unannounced.
When the head of her team leader finally peaked around the door, she drew out a sigh of relief. She let go from her weapon and motioned for the two senior agents to enter.
"How's our boy doing?" Sam asked as he passed her the Styrofoam cup, as he made sure to keep his voice down to keep from waking up the sleeping detective.
"Thanks," she told him, accepting the cup of coffee. "About the same as before," she then started her explanation. "He still panics, whenever he hears anything unexpected, be that people entering or voices," she sighed in an attempt to rein in her emotions.
"And physically?" Callen asked.
"He was pretty beat up, they think his burn marks were from a cattle prod," she swallowed deeply, trying to hold back her anger. "And he's has been sleeping a lot, which the doctors say is pretty normal, but he shouldn't have any lasting problems or even marks, except beneath his feet."
The two agents looked quizzically at their younger counterpart, "What do you mean by 'except beneath his feet'?" Sam asked worriedly.
Realizing that she hadn't told them, what the paramedic, Felix, had discovered in the ambulance on the way over, she started. "He, uhm…he had some pretty nasty welts beneath his feet, as well as, uhm…they had also cut his soles with a knife several times," she admitted, having a hard time reeling in her emotions. "It's not too deep, but still deep enough to leave scarring." As she told them, she could see their expressions slowly turn into one of pure hatred for the man, or men, who had done this to their friend. "He's also running a fever because of the cuts getting infected," she then added.
Sam mumbled a swear under his breath, as his jaw tightened further upon receiving the new information about his friend's injuries.
Callen was just about to speak up, but was interrupted when the sleeping man started thrashing in his sleep, mumbling something that sounded incoherent, but there was no mistaking the fearful tone of which it was spoken with.
Kensi was immediately trying to calm him, tenderly touching his cheek, as her thumb drew comforting patterns, "Shh…you're alright. You're all right Marty. It's just a dream. Please just wake up to me, okay baby?" She called out to him in his sleep, using the same soothing voice as she had previously, albeit a bit heavier with emotion this time around.
"I don't…please, no more," he called out, fear clearly evident in his broken voice.
"You're okay Marty, you're safe. Just wake up to me, please," she tried keeping control of her emotions, but the task felt increasingly difficult.
His one currently functional eye snapped open and immediately settled on Kensi, the timid look pulling at Kensi's heartstrings with hurt and sympathy for what he was going through. She didn't see any recognition in his eyes and knew that he was still somewhere between awake and sleep. She continued stroking his cheek, while her other hand searched for his, she found it easily and gave him a squeeze, giving him time to wake up more.
"You're okay Marty, it was just a nightmare," she told him.
His body was still shaking from the residual fear from the bad dream, but he managed to become lucid much quicker than the first time she had woken him up from a nightmare. "Kens?" He asked, as he realized who was touching him. Upon receiving a hum of confirmation, he leaned into the comforting touch and closed his eyes, allowing the silky touch of her skin to chase away the last fright from his night terror.
"Callen and Sam are here as well," she told him after he had stopped trembling. She knew that he was still terrified of unexpected voices and entrances, and wanted to give him a forewarning to their voices.
He swallowed deeply before meeting her eyes for the first time since waking up, through her loving gaze, she tried to tell him that he was indeed safe and had nothing to fear currently. Their non-verbal communication had always been excellent, and it seemed that it luckily hadn't faltered despite his experience. "Okay," he nodded slightly.
Taking that as their cue, the two senior agents took a few tentative steps further into the room.
"Hey Deeks," Callen softly greeted their friend and colleague.
She felt his jaw tighten, as he squeezed her hand in discomfort, she did, however, notice that his reaction wasn't as extreme as it had been with the nurse earlier in the evening. Reasoning that it was due to him being prepared for the arriving voice, she mentally noted it down to always tell him, who was entering the room, so she could minimize the amount of times he would be surprised by any unknown sounds.
"We're really glad you're alive," Sam continued to match his partner's soft tone. "If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask," he nodded towards his female colleague. "That goes for you as well, anything just let us know."
Unable to find words, Deeks merely nodded slightly at the heartfelt offer. The soft voice from the otherwise hardened military man, resonated within the injured detective, causing a thin layer of unshed tears to form. He had only heard his friend use that voice less than a handful of times, the most memorable being the one, where the retired SEAL had entered his hospital room after their mutual suffering at the hands of the Russian arms dealer.
Kensi had known about the improvement in the relationship between the two very different men, but she hadn't actually seen it up close very often. She found a great amount on comfort in the fact that the two men standing opposite of her, would really do anything to help alleviate the pain of the man she loved.
Surprising everyone, it was Deeks who spoke up, "Y-you're n-not just here t-to see how I'm d-doing, are y-you?"
It was Kensi's turn to tense up, she had been so concerned with the mental wellbeing of her boyfriend that she had completely neglected to think about anything else. Neither the case nor the impending follow-up to nail the bastard had been on her mind.
"We'll only ask questions if you think you're up to it," Callen assured his injured friend.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, guys," Kensi insisted, her protectiveness shining through, since she dreaded having her boyfriend having to relive his torture so soon after having been rescued.
She felt him squeeze her hand and turned to meet his gaze, she could tell that he wanted to assist his colleagues, but there was no hiding the apprehension either, to which no one could really blame him.
"I-I want to help," he finally croaked, his fierce dedication to fighting crime and injustices overcoming his sense of self-preservation.
Kensi studied his face for a short moment, whilst keeping eye contact. Seeing no immediate signs of doubts, she sighed and nodded her acceptance, "Just…please don't push yourself, okay Marty?" She asked gently.
He tried a brave smile for her, but it came across as more of a grimace. "Of course," he tried reassuring her.
She wasn't entirely convinced, but knew that it was the best she was going to get for the moment. She then turned to the two senior agents, and in an authoritative voice, she started listing the criteria for questioning, "No pushing it, no going into details, no-"
"We promise to be gentle, Kensi," Sam interrupted her with his reassurance. Although he didn't have the same emotional connection to the man as she did, he was still fiercely protective of his teammates, whom he had come to see as family, and the last thing he or Callen wanted to do, was cause more damage to Deeks' psyche.
The retired SEAL had had a plethora of traumatic experiences in the past, some more traumatizing than others. He knew what things were hard for him to speak about following the traumas, and as such, had a good idea of which subjects to avoid with the detective for the time being.
Upon receiving a nod from the female agent, Sam started the questioning, "How many different men were with you in the warehouse?"
"T-three," he answered in a slightly shaky manner.
Inwardly, the three agents breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that there had 'only' been three different culprits in the warehouse meant that they knew the identities of all the perpetrators, who had caused his suffering. Ryan Powell, they already had incarcerated, which left Marcel Galvan and Jonah Troyger, who were still at large.
"What information did they want from you?" Callen continued, making sure to keep his tone light.
The injured detective tensed up at the question, as he went through his mind for the answer.
...
His knuckles were white from the clenching his fists tightly in a feeble attempt to combat the enhanced interrogation technique. His nose, throat, and lungs burned from the liquid that the two men continuously forced him to inhale.
When the soaked cloth was finally removed from his face, he coughed up some of the swallowed water, his entire body desperate for oxygen, as his brain had started shutting down from the deprivation.
When he had finally gotten a few semi-deep breaths in, he forced his eyes open even though he only had vision in one of them, thanks to the swelling in his left eye. The sight startled him immensely, as the ugly features of Scarface hovered just above him, the feral grin decorating the otherwise maimed face.
"Who. Are. You. Working. For?" He asked, whilst slowly dragging his nail down the naked chest of the man in an almost sensual manner, causing shivers to run up the restrained man's spine.
"I-I d-don't work f-for anyone," he managed to sputter through his coughing.
"Oh well," Scarface smile widened disturbingly. "Shame," he said, shrugging nonchalantly as the henchman slowly started placing the cloth over his face again, making sure to start from a height to allow their captive the dread before pulling it flush over his face.
"P-please d-don't," he begged, tears rolling down his bruised cheeks. "No, p-please, no…I-I don't-" he didn't manage to make any more pleadings, before his voice was muffled by the soaked fabric.
The water slowly began pouring once more.
...
Kensi noticed his change in demeanor immediately. His whole body was shaking as he relived what had happened to him through a flashback. Hot tears started flowing freely, as the memories had engulfed him.
"I-I did-didn't t-tell them," he cried, shaking his head furiously.
"Tell them what?" Callen pushed. He knew the questions had caused his flashback, but if they didn't get the answer, Deeks' current mental suffering would have been for nothing, so he pushed.
When they didn't receive an immediate answer, Sam asked in a much softer voice than his partner, "What didn't you tell them, Deeks?"
"W-where I-I work," he finally explained sobbingly.
The admission was too much of a reminder for him, as he leaned forward and settled his head on Kensi's chest, grabbing fistfuls of her shirt as he clung to her, as if his life depended on it. The fabric of her shirt slowly dampened, as she allowed the broken man to cry out all the hurt of the reminder.
"I-I didn't t-tell them…y-you have to b-believe me," he croaked into her shirt, making it barely audible for the three agents.
"I know you didn't, baby. I know," she assured him, as she continued drawing comforting circles on his back.
...
"We had to ask him that," Callen stated just before they reached their destination. He wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince himself or his partner. The silence during the car ride had been uncomfortable to say the least, as both of the senior agents had contemplated if their actions of pushing their colleague and friend had been worth it.
The dark skinned agent took a deep breath, "I know, G." He said calmly, "But that doesn't make it right either."
"You're right, but for now we need to see if we can make sense of what he said," the team leader stated, ever the logical thinker. Even though the big, retired SEAL hardly ever showed it, he had always been the more emotional one in their partnership, and as such, Callen sometimes had to look a bit more heartless to push through.
"Alright," Sam conceded. "Why would someone want to know where he works? It wouldn't be hard to find the exact precinct," Sam thought aloud. Through their years of working together, they had found it best to simply bounce ideas off one another, both having an easier time figuring things out that was said out loud.
"Unless they weren't talking about his place with LAPD," Callen bounced back.
"Which means that they wanted to know about the location of OSP," Sam said.
"Right," Callen's jaw tightened. "Let's go tell Hetty."
...
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" She asked, as two of her agents were standing on the step to her open office.
"We went to see Deeks at the hospital," the team leader informed their boss.
"I see," she told them. "And how is our Mr. Deeks doing?"
"Not well, honestly," Sam conceded. "He's pretty beat up, from what Kensi was able to tell us, they used a cattle prod on him."
"And if the room we found him is anything to go by, he was also waterboarded and beat with a cane…you already know about that damn box," Callen let some of his anger slip through in his voice.
"I do," she had already seen the crime scene photos. "Was it merely a social visit, or did you get to ask Mr. Deeks some questions?"
"Two," Sam answered, gritting his teeth. "We only got to ask two questions, before he couldn't take it anymore." He continued sadly.
"I see," she answered, keeping her calm exterior. "Will his answers at least help further our investigation?"
"Deeks confirmed that only three guys were present in the warehouse," Callen informed their operations manager. "Which means that we at least know the identities of them all."
Hetty sat quietly and nodded along, silently asking them to continue their small briefing.
"And then he said they asked him where he worked…he was really shaken up over it, and adamant that he hadn't told them."
"Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Callen. We have all seen the strength of Mr. Deeks, and we, unfortunately, know from experience that he can sustain quite a lot," she said solemnly.
"What do you think he meant by 'where he worked'?" Sam asked, "We figured it had to be about OPS."
"Or NCIS in general," the older woman added, causing her two agents to look quizzically at her. "NCIS' involvement in taking down Jacobus Troyger and the other weapon dealers was never made public."
"But Deeks wasn't even working here at the time?" Sam question aloud, before he had a time to think it through.
"As for how they know that Mr. Deeks has association with our agency, I would think it common knowledge by now that he is working in a liaison position. Even though he has been careful to redact the name of said agency in his reports, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume it to be the same one." The older woman reasoned.
The plausible explanation did nothing to diminish the guilt that they felt for their, in fact it increased it. The knowledge that a man wanted vengeance for a case that was before Deeks' time was like another punch to their guts, as is did nothing but strengthen their feelings of guilt.
"Which means that this is all about one thing," Callen started.
"Vengeance, Mr. Callen. Vengeance," she took a big sip of her tea.
...
It had taken several minutes before she had been able to calm him enough that he was no longer shaking. Whilst holding her broken boyfriend, she had sent her two senior colleagues a look, silently telling them to leave for the night.
Logically she knew that they hadn't meant him any harm, they were merely trying to make sense of the case in order to ensure their teammate's safety, and bring justice to the men who had caused him harm, but she still seethed at them for causing the flashback.
Truthfully, she was even angrier with herself for having allowed the questioning in the first place. She knew that he had trouble with unexpected voices and sounds, it wouldn't have been a huge leap to assume he wouldn't be up for answering even the simplest of questions, which related back to his time in that warehouse.
"I'm sorry," he said after the crying had subsided to sniffles.
She was surprised, when he spoke up, but even more so over his need to apologize to her. "What for?" She asked calmly.
"Not being able t-to help m-more," his voice still wobbly, but had gained a bit of strength back.
"Look at me, Marty," she ordered him, using her thumb and index finger to gently nudge his chin up, so he would meet her eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. The information you gave Sam and Callen was good, they now have something to go on. Even though you feel as if you should be able to give more right now, you still pushed through and helped. Don't you ever dare apologizing for doing the best you can, Marty. I'm so proud of you."
His eyes had gotten covered by another layer of unshed tears during her small speech, but this time it wasn't from remembering the horrors at the hands of Scarface, it was from appreciation and affection for the woman, who currently held him in her arms.
"T-thank you," he told her, looking into her beautiful and shimmering mismatched eyes.
"You're welcome," she easily told him, before turning serious again. "Look, I know that I wasn't there for you last time. I've already told you that I'm not going anywhere, and I meant that. So whenever you're ready to tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours, I'll be there to listen, okay?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," he said, smiling weakly at her.
She smiled back at him and leaned in for a kiss. He was static, as she pressed her soft lips to his for the first time since he had been taken. She was careful, not wanting to further hurt his split lip, but what the kiss lacked in heat, it made up for tenfold in affection.
When they parted, her eyes had welled with tears, the clear liquid running down her cheeks in an unbroken streak.
"What's wrong?" He asked concernedly, as he brought his hand to tenderly wipe away the flow of tears from her cheeks.
"I'm just really happy that you're alive," she admitted. She hadn't wanted to show weakness in front of him, since she knew he would be in a fragile state of mind, but her feelings were running rampant through her.
"Me too," he told her, with a timid smile.
She chuckled slightly at his joke, as she wiped away the last traces of tears. "Okay, I'm done being a wuss now," she smiled at him.
"I love you," he told her. Her toughness had brought forth the first real smile on his face since the event.
"I love you too," she pecked him on the lips.
