Author's Note: Cross-posted on AO3

Xxxxxxx

Nowhere Fast

Chapter 1

His consciousness was slow to focus on what was going on. He distantly heard Kensi moving around - strange, because she had been bound to a chair opposite of him - but wasn't able to concentrate on it, his body brimming with pain and waves of nausea. Cold sweat clung to his skin and pain ran up and down his nerves.

"Callen? Come on," Kensi muttered urgently, her hands suddenly smoothing over his arm.

It was that urgency that made him drag his mind away from the brink of oblivion it balanced on. "Kens?" he mumbled around his split lip while he blearily blinked his eyes into focus.

He felt her hands slide over him, down his right arm to begin working on untying him. He didn't think she should bother. Even if she managed to free him, he wouldn't be able to do much. Staying conscious was difficult enough already.

He squeezed his eyes shut before forcing them back open, praying for some clarity.

Glancing around, he noticed they were alone. The sun was setting, bathing the room into a gentle reddish light. His eyes fell onto the specks of blood in front of his chair. It would soon be dark, too dark to see the red as anything more than darker stains on the carpet if the lights were out.

"Kens," he murmured again, swallowing around the blood that pooled in his mouth, leaving the metallic taste of iron behind. "Kens, need you to do something for me."

"Anything," she murmured ferociously, briefly drawing back to glance at him before returning her attention to his bindings.

Callen drew a careful breath, leaving his ribcage and lungs on fire. "Need you to leave. Get out of here."

Kensi drew back once more, this time her features were half incredulous, half desperate. "No way. We'll get out of here together."

He felt the first rope fall away, his right wrist free and suddenly dangling when it wasn't held against the chair anymore. Callen barely swallowed the moan of pain that change of position evoked. When he blinked his eyes back into focus once more, he knew he must have missed a little while as Kensi had shifted to his other side and her fingers were busy on his left wrist. "Kens," he implored softly.

"Forget it," she hissed, "I'm not leaving you here." The 'on your own' wasn't verbalized but he heard it, nonetheless. Callen knew he was making her face a hard decision, leaving her assigned partner alone in the hands of terrorists. He also knew it was the right decision to make - the only one they could make.

"Kens," he murmured again, feeling like a broken record at whispering the same thing over and over again.

"No!" There was steely determination in her voice.

The binding around his left wrist fell away at that moment and he reached up, ignoring the way pain crashed furiously through his arms and upper body. His hands snapped to her upper arms, as much a restriction of her body as it was a way to keep himself upright and clinging to consciousness. "Listen to me," he hissed, "you have to leave!"

"Callen," she hedged.

He set his face in resolute determination, "I'm your team leader, Kensi. You will do as I tell you." He obviously had to pull rank in this, though in the privacy of his mind he admitted to himself that there wasn't much he could do if Kensi refused to follow his order.

"Don't make me do this," she pleaded softly.

His resolve remained, but his features softened, "Kensi. You need to make a break for it. It's only a matter of time before they will start using us against each other." The only reason they hadn't yet was that they were buttering them up. Callen had been beaten down and wounded to make him more easily controllable, as he was perceived as the bigger physical threat - not necessarily true, but it was a common mistake to make.

Kensi so far hadn't been harmed too badly. She'd been handled with excessive roughness, evidenced by the bruises forming on her arms, but she hadn't been intentionally harmed. She had, however, been forced to witness his beating… a way to make her afraid for her turn and to make her feel helpless while she screamed for them to stop.

Still, Callen knew things would get worse, much worse, if they didn't do anything now. They would be used against each other and while they both knew the risks of their profession, knew they might face torture if they fell into the wrong hands, Callen knew that witnessing a close friend being tortured was sometimes worse than going through it yourself. Knowing you could stop another person's pain by speaking up… and knowing you couldn't do so at the same time was a heavy burden.

He also wasn't sure he could allow that to happen as he had seen the men's leers towards Kensi. He wasn't sure if the junior agent had seen them, but Callen knew what lay in those glances. He could withstand being tortured if it was only him but being forced to watch what he suspected these men had in mind for Kensi… he wasn't sure he was strong enough to endure that, wasn't sure he could forgive himself if he did.

He blearily shook his head, using the resulting wave of nausea to force his thoughts back on track.

"Kens, you need to go."

"We'll go together," she tried again.

"Kens."

"Why won't you come?" There was helpless despair in her voice.

"Two reasons," he told her quietly, "one: I'll only slow you down. And two: I don't think I'll fit through that window," he nodded his head towards the bull eye to his left. "You're the contortionist, remember?" he needled softly, a small smile on his lips. She had grumbled about it, years ago when she had to escape from the bathroom of a private jet through a tiny opening into the loading bay of said jet. Callen had been the one to break her out and help her slide through, quietly impressed at the way she shifted and wiggled her way through.

His mind was wandering again, and he ruthlessly dragged it back.

He didn't add that the third reason he wouldn't be coming with her now was that he didn't think he would make it back to the shore. The blinking lights of a coastal town were a good five or six klicks away by his reckoning. Callen doubted that he could swim that far, not with the knife wound in his thigh and the deep cuts on his upper arms hindering his movements. Kensi would stand a far better chance on her own and he might even be able to stall their captors and confuse them into another direction to give her a better chance.

"Callen," she whispered brokenly, and he heard the regret and resignation both. He knew in that moment that she would go, and he felt a weight drop off his shoulders.

"Go," he murmured with a nod towards the bull eye.

She hung her head, still kneeling in front of him before she stood. "I'll come back for you."

Callen looked at her and shook his head, "no," he ordered firmly, "not alone. Get the team. Do not do this on your own." She would lose if she did so. She would be outnumbered, and he would have no way of supporting her. He needed her gone so he could focus on surviving and maybe - if lady luck smiled down on him - getting himself out as well. "Now go."

Kensi's eyes hung on him, and he could see she was still fighting with herself. A moment later, she resolutely turned away and moved to the cabin wall to ease the bull eye open.

Callen breathed a relived sigh when the window opened. He hadn't been sure they would be able to open their only means of escape. He pushed up from the chair, standing on shaky legs and hobbling over to where Kensi stood. By the time he made it over to her, she had shed the expensive dress she wore. She would only get tangled in it and it would hinder her movements. Callen refrained from mentioning Hetty wouldn't be happy with them for losing or destroying her wardrobe.

It was the least of their worries.

Drawing on whatever reserves he still retained, he solidly planted his feet to give her a leg up and then helped her clamber up far enough so she could squeeze her body through the opening. He watched her struggle and shift, gritting his teeth when he still held some of her wiggling weight even though his body was struggling heavily with it. Suddenly, the resistance was gone, and she slid out of the bull eye. She caught her weight on the other side before she could tumble down. They shared a brief glance before Kensi gave him a small nod and then let go. A moment later, there was a soft splash below - barely noticeable unless you were listening for it - and he sighed.

He had done all he could for Kensi. Now it was on her. He knew she was a strong and physically fit woman. He had to trust that she would make it. He knew she would be swallowed by the darkness a short distance away from the yacht. Even if the men gave chase, the vast ocean would help conceal her.

Kneeling down and picking up Kensi's dress, Callen struggled to straighten up again. Reaching up, Callen threw the dress outside before he closed the bull eye, careful not to leave smudges of blood anywhere. He then left his position by the cabin wall and carefully hobbled around the room they had been locked inside. It was spacious and luxurious, and Callen had to give their captors some credit. Usually, scenes like what had happened previously went down in some derelict warehouse, an industrial park, or an auto body shop. A spacious and expensive yacht was definitely a step up in accommodations… and it added the comfort of isolation to the tormentors. No nosy neighbors checking on the screams and no unsuspecting police officers to stumble over the scene by chance.

Callen shook his head, reaching out to the wall to stabilize himself. Wetness made him glance down and grunt in frustration when he saw the blood tickling down his thigh. It seemed the knife wound had reopened.

Unbothered by leaving blood trails - served them right if the mohair carpets were a goner after he bled on them - Callen went to the second door in the room; the one that didn't lead into the corridor. He suspected it either led to a bathroom or… he tilted his head to the side in surprise when instead the door opened to the engine room. Pretty unusual as far as layouts went. Still, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth since he might find some kind of weapon in this room. A wrench or a pipe maybe.

Tilting his head to the side, he stepped inside and slowly explored the room. A dark smile came over his face when indeed found a tool kit containing a wrench. Also, he found several more things of interest. A tentative plan formed in his head. Looking back towards the door to check the viability of the plan, he nodded to himself.

Callen moved around the room, looking for another crucial ingredient, grinning when his eyes fell onto an old battery. He stumbled over to fetch the battery, grunting when his injuries protested the added weight he was now lugging around and back to the door.

Positioning the battery on the inside of the door, he returned to the toolkit, rooting around for the cables he had seen. Rigging the cables to the battery on one side and to the doorknob on the other, Callen backed out of the engine room moments later and into the room of his captivity, the previously obtained wrench in hand. He carefully closed the door by leaning against it, making sure not to touch the handle. The quiet snick as it slid into place wouldn't be heard outside of the room to attract attention.

He could also stay inside of the engine room, and take up position there, but he doubted it would make a difference where he positioned himself. Both rooms were placing him in a no-win situation. He was outnumbered and not in prime physical condition. Still, he would try to work the odds in his favor.

Callen glanced around the room where he had been held previously, considering the best possible ambush points. He would prefer taking up position next to the door to surprise the first person through, but he doubted he would be able to stay upright long enough. He wasn't sure how long he would have to wait until their captors made a reappearance. His body was tired, weary exhaustion pulsing through him and he knew that waiting would not do him any good to stay sharp.

He could attract their attention to bring them in and force the confrontation, but by doing that, Kensi's escape would be discovered immediately. Any minute of a head start he could give Kensi to get further away was valuable time he needed to buy her. So, staying silent for as long as possible was the way to go.

Callen limped back over to the chair he had been bound to, easing his battered body down. He put his hands back against the chair's legs where he had been restrained to, completing the picture of still being tied up. He slid the wrench into the sleeve of his shirt, held loosely between a closed fist and the chair's leg. As long as he remained conscious, he would have a weapon on hand.

Settling himself in to wait, he took slow and even breaths, ignoring the way pain clamored for attention. He could give in to the pain later, but for now, he would need to compartmentalize and get through the situation he found himself in.

Every now and then he glanced towards the bull eye, trying to gauge the time passing, but as long as it was dark, it was difficult to know how much time passed. Then again, with every minute it remained dark, Kensi's chances of getting away rose.

Callen allowed himself to drift and drowse without sinking into the oblivion of unconsciousness. He was biding his time, marshalling his strength. He knew that he would probably have little chance of successfully overpowering his opponents, but he would still give it a good try. Sitting in this chair for hours after being captured and beaten hadn't done him any favors and he was growing stiffer as his muscles locked up.

Eventually, he was roused from his stupor by footsteps approaching outside the room. The expensive hardwood floors in the hallway were rather nice in terms of an early warning system. Callen considered pushing up from the chair but thought better of it when he noticed his equilibrium was wonky. He would probably overbalance and end up face first on the floor and that kind of negated any attempts at an attack.

The door opened and he blearily glanced up, his weary posture only half a ruse to lull his captors into a false sense of security. He watched as the two guards/enforcers entered first before the leader stepped into the room.

There was a moment of silence before the men suddenly noticed the lack of female presence in the room. As one, the three men straightened and looked around, probably half expecting Kensi to hide behind them. One of the guards drew his weapon while the other prowled closer to Callen.

He counted the man's steps down in his head.

Three… biding his time.

Two… posture remaining hunched.

One… keeping the intent from his features.

Upon the count of zero, Callen exploded into action, the wrench easily sliding fully into his hand from its hiding place inside of his sleeve, his arm swinging in the same moment, putting as much force behind the blow as he could. The wrench connected with the guard's knee, making it buckle. The second strike connected with the man's head and despite his weakened state, Callen instantly knew that the guard wouldn't get up again after that hit.

Standing and using the elation of his success as well as the momentum of his previous swings, Callen stumbled forward, rushing the second guard. The man's eyes slid from his fallen comrade to Callen, his features tightening in fury. He barely ducked Callen's swing before the man's training kicked back in and his focus sharpened.

Slightly unbalanced by the miss, Callen grunted when the guard lashed out a foot around his ankle and tripped him up. He landed heavily on the floor and tried to roll over, but a heavy foot was planted on his back, holding him down.

The ringleader approached and knelt down beside him. Callen turned his head to watch the man.

"Where is the woman?" the man asked, his fury barely concealed.

Callen swallowed and then let his eyes flicker over to the door of the engine room in a pretended involuntary move. He held back the smile when the ringleader's eyes followed his line of sight and the man stood, falling for Callen's supposed slip. Having acquired his own weapon from that room would only give credence to the belief that Kensi was hiding inside. Not that it really mattered, but it was a few more seconds of a head start for Kensi, a way to hopefully get rid of one more guard and a way to play with his captors' heads.

The commotion had drawn more guards into the room and Callen was drawn up by his collar, making it difficult to breathe as his shirt tightened around his neck. The material also put pressure on his carotid arteries, and he started feeling lightheaded - well, more lightheaded than before. He feebly swiped at the man behind him.

The man holding him snickered and then shook him as if he were a misbehaving dog. Callen didn't appreciate the comparison his mind came up with.

His silent musings were interrupted by a shower of sparks, a pained yell and a dull thud as the guard unfortunate enough to have reached for the doorknob flew backwards and onto the floor.

Using the distraction, Callen growled and then kicked his leg back, intent on another bid for freedom. Instead of scoring a full kick though, he merely glanced off the man's knee. The retaliation came swiftly, with no regards to his health and the blow to his head was powerful enough that he crumbled down on the floor again, negating any chances of success.

The carpet slowly swam into focus in front of his eyes and Callen waited while he rode out the multiple waves of pain his body communicated to his brain.

He groaned and tried to push himself up on his hands and knees, trying to blink the stars from his vision. A powerful kick to his ribs knocked him back down again and onto his side. His vision started to go black as his body automatically curled onto his left side to protect his ribs from further assault. A second kick to his back near his kidneys stopped him as he arched his back in pain.

He was shoved back onto his front and Callen couldn't help but wince when the muzzle of a gun was jabbed into his back right against his vertebrae, a rather forceful if unvoiced demand for him to stop moving.

This time he decided to stay down.