Thanks for the reviews so far.
Reviews appreciated and welcomed
Title: Nowhere Man
Rating: M
Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs
Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: My stories are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. This is a work intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.
Nowhere Land
Chapter 2
In the early morning hours on Saturday, the Zuma Beach lifeguard patrolled the expansive beach, making sure everything was set for a busy day of beachcombers, surfers, and sunbathers. Brad Summers drove toward the North end of the Zuma Beach and spotted what appeared to be beached marine life near the caves. He stopped his truck, grabbed his cell phone, and his flashlight. Within ten feet of the animal, Brad realized it was a man's body. A badly beaten, bruised, and bleeding naked man. Brad had seen his share of horrors while stationed in Iraq during the war, but nothing which made him nauseous. This scene caused his stomach to turn. He rushed back to his truck, swallowing down bitter bile which threatened to erupt from the back of his throat. Brad grabbed a blanket from the truck bed, a bottle of water from a cooler, and gathered his wits before he hurried back over to the naked man. After covering him, he discovered the John Doe was out cold. He autodialed the one number he kept on his work cell phone besides the lifeguard station's main number.
"Yeah, this is Marty," he said, stretching and yawning. "Slow down, man, I can barely understand you."
"I said, this is Brad, I have a body by the caves and…" He stopped to catch his breath and swallow down the bitter taste at the back of his throat. Brad turned away from the body before his eyes. "I thought of you."
"I'm not sure if I should be honored or disturbed." Marty Deeks snickered.
"Come on, just come down and take a look."
"You should call 911."
"You don't work for LAPD any more?"
"Not exactly…" He sighed. "I'll get my running gear on and take a run." So much for my day off. "I'll be there in thirty."
NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA
Marty arrived at Zuma Beach and waited for his friend to pick him up in his truck.
"Glad you came," Brad said.
"I'm not so sure I'm glad," Marty said, half joking.
"I knew I could count on you."
"And you are gonna tell me why you didn't call the police."
"I did."
"No, Brad, 911."
"I'll show you why." He stopped the truck and grabbed his flashlight. The dawn light started to come over the hills to the East.
Marty followed close behind his long time friend. Within five feet of the blanket covered form, his jaw dropped. He pulled out his cell phone and autodialed all his fellow agents and Hetty a text alert.
"You know him?"
"Yes," he said. "Any chance we can get some help and load him into the back of your truck?"
"I'll arrange it."
Marty rubbed his two day old beard and waited for a call back from someone on his team. He hoped it was not Sam because he would hear about the early morning hour first and need to get past his anger next. If Hetty answered it that too might prove to be a volatile conversation. Both were argumentative ever since Callen went missing. If Kensi called it would not be half bad. Maybe not. She was pissed too. Marty guessed that NCIS agents failed to recover fully after losing agents. His team still mourned the death of Dom, the man he had replaced, he saw it in their eyes when they talked about Callen.
His phone vibrated and he stared at the name on the caller ID. Marty braced himself for a barrage of expletives and answered the phone.
"This better be important to text an alert to me at this ungodly hour of the morning on a Saturday of all—"
"I found Callen," he said, interrupting the torrent of words spewing forth from the man's mouth. "Technically, a friend of mine found Callen."
"Where? When? How?"
"Slow down, Zuma Beach." He wanted his own mind to slow down more than he wished Sam's mind would slow down.
"I'm on my way, don't move him, need photos, you know crime scene photos, and just don't move him yet."
"I think he was dumped here."
"Notify everyone."
"A text message was broadcast to everyone on the team and Hetty as we agreed upon a week ago."
Sam huffed and puffed, talking while he dressed quicker than usual. "He may have been dumped but I need photos."
"Got you." Marty disconnected before hearing anything more. More anger. More arguments. An agent had gone missing… again. He was alive, at least he appeared to be breathing. Marty stared at Callen's blanketed form, counting the man's painfully slow, uneven breaths. A sign of tremendous pain and an unconscious state. Not good. He turned to his friend. "So why did you call me instead of 911?"
"I played my hunch," Brad said. "I remember what you told me earlier in the week."
"Aw, thanks." He sighed. "Do you have a camera that's better than this cell phone?"
"Sure thing, in the truck."
"I'll need to borrow it for a while and I'll get it back to you."
"Not a problem." Brad turned to leave.
"And I need to have you pick up my partner and bring him here."
"Okay."
"And I… thanks." Marty refocused his attention on Callen, checking his breaths again. He shot numerous photos of Callen's naked, bruised, battered, and bloodied body. Marty loathed removing the blanket, with it gone he invaded his lead agent's privacy. Yet, Sam asked for photos. He shot the photos as if he were investigating a crime scene, not the scene of his friend and team leader. But again, this was no crime scene, Callen's unresponsive body was dumped here.
Marty needed to step back and remove himself from this reality. This was not happening to his friend and team leader. He took a breather by the caves, resting against a rocky outcropping before bending over and doing something he had not done in years: Marty hurled onto the sand at his feet not once but three times. Everything he ate this morning, which was not much, was now congealed in the sand at his feet. He kicked some sand over it and faced the rock outcropping, attempting to gather what strength and courage he had left, before returning to the crime scene.
Callen's unsteady breaths reminded Marty of his own shooting last year. His team leader was not shot though. No blood seeped from his body, coagulating the sand into gooey clumps. Marty was thankful for that one thing. He was not thankful for the sight of Callen's bruised, battered, and blood encrusted body.
NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA
Sam climbed out of the truck before it stopped moving. He raced over to Deeks, no longer needing a flashlight as the sun had risen over the hills.
"Brace yourself, man, this isn't easy," Marty said, positioning himself between Sam and Callen.
"Move out of my way, damn it!"
He stepped aside and watched the muscular African American man's face. The same reaction Marty had over an hour ago crossed over his face.
Sam stared at his partner, lower jaw slacked open wider than usual. "G," he whispered, barely audible. "Photos?"
"Finished," Marty whispered back.
Sam crouched next to his partner on the sand and lifted the blanket. His gut lurched and he swallowed down the bitter taste which rose to the back of his throat. "G," he whispered more to himself than Deeks or his partner. He straightened and strode back to the truck. "Close the beach."
"It's done," Brad said. "Any time there is an attempted murder or murder, the beach is shut down until the police clear the site."
Sam shuddered hearing those words, attempted murder or murder. It was obvious that Brad knew what had occurred and took the appropriate measures. "This is now a NCIS investigation and carries top security clearance."
"Understood," he said. "Do you still need help getting him in the back of my truck?"
"All three of us should be able to handle this," Sam said. "Got a rescue stretcher?"
"Yes, in the back.
Brad, Sam, and Marty loaded G's unconscious body onto the stretcher and into the back of the lifeguard's truck. Sam stayed with G in the back of the truck. It worried him that his partner had not even moaned when they picked him up off the sand.
NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA
Sam lifted G into his arms and brought him into the house, carrying his partner into G's master bathroom. He settled him onto a window seat in the bathroom, stripped off his own clothes, and brought G into the shower. His partner's bloodied, bruised, beaten body necessitated a shower to determine the extent of his injuries. He hoped it was only battered without internal injuries. Sam scrubbed away the caked, dried blood, finding minor surfaces cuts and bruises all over his partner's body. After washing his hair, he rinsed him off and lifted his partner into his arms. Sam grabbed several towels from the linen closet in the bathroom and spread them on the hardwood floor. G desperately needed a bed in his master bedroom. If the guy failed to buy himself one soon, Sam was gonna take measures into his own hands. He laid G's unconscious body on the towels and gently dried him off with two more towels, exploring every inch of his partner's bruised and cut body.
While his partner was unconscious, it was time to explore the unthinkable. Sam wanted to believe G's captors had not stooped to anything more than beating and battering his body. He needed to investigate the worst case scenario. After rummaging in the linen closet for close to thirty minutes, Sam discovered the items he needed to examine his partner's most private body parts. He knew G would never submit to this if he were conscious. Ten minutes later, Sam discovered his partner had been raped. Sam took as many crude samples as he could before packing and labeling them and tossing them into the refrigerator and freezer. He sighed again for at least the fourth time in the last hour. Sam brought G back into the shower once more and washed the blood and semen from his partner's most private sanctum. He had invaded a privacy no one dare touch or take or destroy. Someone carried out an assault on his partner's innermost being. Sam shuddered, feeling profound disgust toward G's assailants.
Again he dried off his partner's body and lifted him into his arms before settling his blanket wrapped, naked body onto his lap in the only chair in G's living room. One thing Sam knew, if you wanted people to keep their distance you gave them little choices to remain in your presence; thus G's barren living room.
NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA
He swam to consciousness out of a disturbing dream, terrified, waiting for their next assault. G struggled to open his eyes, as if glue kept them shut. Drugs. They drugged him and used needles to administer the drugs. He still hated needles no matter if they contained something to harm or help him.
A warm body caressed his shoulders and back. A deep voice spoke calming, soothing words. A hard, muscular body held him tight. He struggled again. His own raspy and weak voice cried out.
"Easy, G, easy, man, you are safe."
"Don't…"
Sam released his hold and allowed his partner to slide off his lap onto the floor at his feet.
When he saw nakedness, G drew the blanket around him, struggling to maintain a thread of decency. "How did I get here?"
"Long story."
"Shortened version."
"Marty's friend found you on Zuma Beach."
"Like this?" G glanced for a moment at his naked body under the blanket.
"Yes."
"Crap."
"Do you remember anything—"
G shut his partner up with the wave of his hand. He struggled to get a foothold before attempting to stand on his own. Halfway through his effort, G slumped to the floor, the blanket falling away and exposing his nakedness. He redoubled his effort, drawing the blanket around him and stabilizing himself with the end table's top.
"Let me help—"
"No!" G pushed himself upward, this time maintaining stability without collapsing on his weakened legs. He dragged his body toward his bedroom, grabbing doorjambs and steadying himself against walls. Once inside his master bedroom, G stared at the pattern of towels on the hardwood floor. He cringed, a faint memory of a personal invasion forced its way into his conscious thought. G inched toward the closet, keeping his balance with one hand on the wall. Inside the closet, he nestled under a blanket on his bedroll, pushing himself against a far wall and huddling there, knees drawn up to his heaving chest and arms tightened around them.
Sam watched his partner's efforts from the doorway to the bedroom. After G settled himself, he crossed the room and stood outside the closet. "What do you need me to do?"
G glanced up from his protective position in the corner. "You… took… damn it, I can't even talk to you about this." He lowered his eyes to the floor in front of him. "Specimens." G spit out the word.
"Evidence."
"Damn it."
"Maybe a hospital would have been a better—"
"Stop!" G held up both hands. "Enough. No more."
"I know it wasn't a good idea." Sam stared at the closet floor. "After the fact."
"I don't… bend that way."
"I know and the evidence might lead us to your—"
G held up his hands again and turned his gaze toward the wall in his closet. "Just go. Leave."
"I'd like to but Hetty has no idea about where you are and—"
"What?" His jaw dropped.
"Your body was encrusted with dried and seeping blood and sand and you needed to be bathed and—"
"Isn't there any shred of decency you gave me… I guess not… we're partners… I never thought you'd do this to me." He drew the blanket up past his chin and kept his eyes averted to the wall. "Leave."
Thanks for reading. More to come soon...