A/N: sorry everyone for the delay, here is the newest chapter. Thanks everyone who have been following, reviewing and liking this story. And thanks cat4444.
Chapter 7
Deeks sat on the beach watching the sun as it began to set. Callen was lying on his surfboard just out of arms reach, staring up into the darkening sky. Deeks couldn't remember when he had had as much fun in his own thoughts. He looked over at Callen, who seemed to be deep in thought. Maybe he should dream up Kensi for a bit. Callen let out a rattling cough; holding his chest, he wiped his mouth, his hand covered in blood.
"You okay?" Deeks asked, propping himself up. Callen looked a lot thinner and his golden tan had faded.
"You know, I've been thinking," he said in a strained voice. "Deeks, you're dying. You need to do something before we . . ." He began to cough harder, his frail body collapsing into the sand. Deeks was on his feet helping his friend. Blood stained the sand as Callen gasped for breath. "We're not going to make it."
"You will. Come on G. If I can hang on just a little longer, you'll find me. I know it." Deeks felt uneasy. His subconscious knew something was wrong.
Callen laughed, "You're really that brain dead, aren't you? Come on buddy, you're dying in this place. We're not coming. Stop relying on everyone else to get you out of here. Get some balls and man up. Take the offer. Get the hell out of here and find us."
Deeks shook his head, "I can hang in there."
Callen rolled his eyes and looked past Deeks.
"Deeks?" Kensi's voice quavered. Deeks turned as Callen melted into the sand. Kensi looked far worse than Callen; she took a staggering step, falling onto the sand. Her face looked hollow. Her appearance reminiscent of his mother when she died. Open sores covered her body.
He crawled to her, unable to stand anymore, and scooped her fragile body into his arms, holding her close to his chest. He couldn't feel her breath against his skin; he couldn't feel her heart beating. Tears rolled down his cheeks; she looked so peaceful in his arms. Running the back of his hand down her cheek, he felt sick. Everything began to spin, the beach swirling around him, the rich colors blending together, blurring and melding into a dull blackness. As it swirled in front of him, long black tentacles reached out for him. They burned as they ripped through his chest, and he cried out, tightening his grip on Kensi.
Deeks always thought it would be sunny when he died, and in his mind it was sunny most of the time. He had always heard that when the body dies, the spirit stands at the opening of a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel is a warm golden light, and waiting there to embrace the newly deceased are all the loved ones that have gone ahead. He fully expected to see the golden light, but, instead, the tunnel ended in blackness.
Light formed in the darkness surrounding him, his eyes fluttering open in response to the increasing brightness. A face began to take shape in the radiance, calling him by name. "Martin. Martin, can you hear me?" Behind the voice was the clinking of metal hitting metal and a smell like copper pennies soaking in Clorox.
Spikes of pain stabbed through his head and chest, and he realized that someone was shaking him. He wanted the shaking to stop, but the mask pressed over his face muffled his pleas. As he fought against the plastic mask, a tube connected to his arm slapped against a metal pole.
"Relax son," the face hovering over him said, taking hold of his arm and pressing it back down to his side.
In his confused state, Deeks didn't know who the face was, or where he was. All he knew was the pressure and pain, as though he had been torn apart and put back together.
"Martin, take a deep breath. Come on, son, breathe."
He listened to the face; the air passing in and out of his lungs. The pain making the air rattle in his throat.
"That's it, son, slow and deep. Are you in pain?"
He tried to say 'Yes,' but the word dissolved in this mouth. His voice failing him, he instead nodded slightly.
"Alright, Simon, you can give him something for the pain."
A familiar face came into the light, large owl-like glasses covering his small face. He held a syringe filled with blue liquid, which he injected into the tube running into Deeks' arm. As the drug entered his body, Deeks could feel a warm ribbon twisting into his arm. The pain ebbed. The light dimmed. The darkness began to swallow him again, and all his exhausted brain could process was a feeling that he was forgetting something. The missing thought was an irritation at the back of his mind. The more he tried to concentrate on it, to recall it, the further the memory slipped from his grasp as consciousness fled from him.
The sound of footsteps woke him. He was annoyed that they kept waking him up when all he wanted to do was sleep. Without opening his eyes, he spoke, "I'm fine. I don't want anything to eat, and I don't need anything for the pain."
A sweet voice answered him from the side of his bed. "That's good, because I don't have either of those things."
His eyes shot open. The Madame sat on a stool; her black hair falling around her shoulders. Her manicured fingers pressed against her chin. Her lips parted as she smiled at him, and he cringed at her feral look. "It's good to see you awake, Martin," her voice hissed as her nails raked over his arm. He wished he wasn't tied down to the bed or he would give her a piece of her own medicine. "So, will you fight?"
Deeks wanted to say 'No.' He wanted to make sure she knew he would never be hers. Instead, he rolled his head away from her; he had learned that he had died in the hole, his heart stopped. He would have never realised if it wasn't for the many visits from his trusty nurse Harold, who made it a habit of keeping him company on his recovery and new imprisonment to the bed. Harold was quick to tell him it was Simon who found him during his routine drug injection. And if it wasn't for him Deeks would still be down there rotting. They brought him back to life and moved him into his new prison a small room no bigger than a prison cell, then pumped him full of fluids and drugs to strengthen his weakened body. And that is where he lay, staring at the yellow-stained tiles on the ceiling. He figured it had been at least a week since he woke in his new prison, and it made him come to the sad realization that he was truly alone in all this.
"I will." His voice came out flat and cold.
"Good, your first fight is tonight, a warm up for the show." She sounded too smug for his liking. The stool squealed as it scraped across the floor. "I will see you then."
Deeks turned to look at her, "Excuse me? I need time, I'm not ready."
"Not my problem," she snarled and slammed the door.
Deeks cried out, shaking against the restraints holding him down. She played him; he would never win, he was never getting out of there. Slamming his head against the pillow, he could feel the leather straps cut into his skin.
It felt good to have a bath; it had been a while since he was clean. A women dressed in white came to see him shortly after The Madame left, she was followed by two men who looked more like bouncers then anything. Is own personal guards, in a small way he felt a little special. He was released on his assurance that he would not hurt any of them. After his wrists were cleansed and wrapped in clean bandages, he was taken to a room with a shower. He didn't want anyone to wash him, and his protest was met with electricity running from the collar wrapped around his neck and through his entire body. He was scrubbed until he was sure his skin was being peeled off, and it really didn't help that the water was a touch too cold for him. Following the shower, he was taken back to his cell and quickly cuffed to an awaiting chair. Two Larger men stood at the door their faces blank watching him. A soft knock at the door reviled an older man holding a black bag. He shuffled in and began setting his tool out on the bed. Turning the old man held a pair of silver barber scissors. Despite his protests, the man proceeded to cut Deeks' hair close to his scalp so that it was short enough no one could grasp it. His beard was removed with a hot shave. The old barber patted his cheek with an aged hand when he was finished. Packing up his things, he shuffled out of the room, his personal guard detail left as well leaving Deeks alone.
"Holy crap," a soft female voice remarked, making him glance up from his the chair he was still cuffed too in shock. Leaning in the doorway stood a person he never thought he would ever see again. Tatiana smiled as she eyed him, her thumbs slipped into the pockets of her jeans. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her brown eyes gazing at him, watching the emotions ripple through him. Finally, a slight smile gracing her full lips, she said, "I heard you finally cracked. I had to see it for myself. I do have to say you weren't an easy mark. Made me work harder than I like."
"You work for them?" he finally found the words; he wanted to jump off the bed at her. Deeks did try; the pull of the cuffs made the motion short lived. "You!"
"Oh, come on, Marty, don't look so surprised." She tilted her head, showing no sign of emotion. "I did my job; I got paid pretty good for you."
"Shut up!" he yelled again, pulling against his restraints. She didn't flinch, just laughed at him. A sound he once found sexy, now made him sick. "Get out!"
"Hey, I lost a good friend because of your ass. I plan to make sure you suffer." Her upper lip curled in a sneer. "Did you know Eric is freaking out? He misses you so much."
"Bitch!" he yelled, jerking again. "You won't be talking like that for long."
"Yes, I will, and maybe I might mark Eric, see how long little tech boy lasts in the ring." She stepped forward, grabbing Deeks' face, her nails digging into his flesh. "Kevin was one of the best and, because of you, they killed him." Deeks cried out when she jammed the syringe into his leg. Depressing the plunger, she stepped back. "When you die tonight, I'm going to place your body right on their front doorstep." Kissing him roughly, she pushed him back into the bed, then walked out, closing the door behind her.
Deeks could feel the warmth move up his leg as the drugs flowed through his system and the room began to spin. His heart felt ready to rip from his chest, sweat dripped from his brow. He wasn't sure what she had injected him with, but the concern that he was going to die regardless was heavy in his thoughts.
When they came for him, he felt every touch, every motion, his skin overly sensitive. Their hands pulled at him, lifting him to his feet, no one noticing his distress. He tried to fight back but found his reactions slowed by the drug moving through his body. A foot to the gut dropped him, the pain washing over him so quickly.
Deeks head was lifted so he could see the yellow eyes of The Rat staring back at him. A thin smile crossed over his thin lips. He threw his head back down and shoved him against the wall. This made him realise they knew what was wrong with him, but didn't care. The Rat leaned over him, casted arm pressing against his throat. "You are going to die tonight," he viciously remarked. "Get him to the ring."
Deeks was half dragged and half pushed through hallways he'd never seen before, the glow of the luminescent lights burned his eyes. Voices and color blurred into a heavy grey haze. He felt as though he was falling—and he was. His face struck the cement hard, and his breath was knocked from his lungs at the impact. Rolling onto his back, he found himself lying at the bottom of a deep pit surrounded by chain-link fencing and barbed wire. Heavy flood lights shone down, illuminating the blood-stained walls and floor.
Deeks struggled to stand; slinking to the wall furthest away from the burning lights, he blinked to clear his vision. A single camera installed on a platform was directed down at him. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again. A camera. They were filming the fight. He heard his name being called. Turning toward the sound, he felt the movement of the air from the fist coming toward at his nose just before it hit.
A/N: pls read and review.