"Sam, your six."
Sam hits the ground at the sound of the detective's voice. He's in a warehouse across from Deeks in the middle of a firefight like no other. Sam doesn't realize that he has no memory of a fight like this happening, meaning that he's trapped in another dream.
Deeks cowers behind a stack of crates right before the top of the stack is pummeled by a hail of gunfire. Sam watches Deeks pull his Sig close to his body, push out a clip, and forcefully jam what appears to be his last clip into his gun. He leans around the left of the stack, not noticing the shooter dressed in all black creeping from across the room. Sam tries to yell for Deeks to look over his shoulder, but nothing comes out.
Deeks stands up and begins to walk forward to Sam, completely unaware of Sam's constant attempts to warn him of the shooter. It isn't until a bullet finally pierces through the bottom of Deeks' stomach does the detective looks Sam in the eye and cry out, "You didn't try to help me. Why won't you help me?"
Sam jolts awake and yells out, "Deeks!"
He glances left and right and then realizes that he's still in the damn chair, Deeks was just carried off by Sidarov's man, and his wife is out negotiating with a terrorist. Sam lets out a growl in frustration before he hears two knocks and the hard, heavy door on the side of the room open. Zurof, Sidarov's other right hand man, walks into the room with a smug expression on his face.
Sam shakes his head and snaps without looking at Zurof, "Where the hell have you been?"
"Busy- how was the dive in the pool? Were there any fishes?" Zurof jokes. His snide comments earns a dark glare from Sam, which he ignores. Instead, he walks up to Sam and begins to un-do the strap for both of his arms. When he finishes, Zurof states, "Get up."
"For what?" Sam asks. He looks down and swallows hard at a sickening realization- the small area around his wrists are numb and covered in black electrical burns. He moves his hand over to his other to touch the area around his wrists. It's sickening and emotionally painful that he has to beg himself to together.
"I said let's go," Zurof calls out, now standing at the door. Sam shoots the man one more glare and then focuses on the best way to push himself out of the chair. He scoots forward with the intention of just standing up normally, but instead of finding some kind of steadiness on his feet, he collapses in a complete heap. Sam lets out a painful gasp and makes a mental note to kick Zurof's ass, who he can see in the corner of his eye watching him with a smirk.
"Today would be nice, David," Zurof says. Sam grimaces before pushing himself onto all fours and then pulling himself using the chair. As a beyond physically fit Navy SEAL, feeling weak isn't a natural feeling to Sam that makes him want to get him and Deeks out of there more than ever.
Stop worrying about weaknesses and what one should feel in a time like this. It worked out wonderfully the last time. Now on his feet, Sam faces the doorway and Zurof, who's now leaning against the doorframe. He raises an eyebrow and mutters, "Were you expecting applause?" before walking out the room and into the hallway.
No, I wasn't expecting anything from the man who watched me drown earlier today. Sam puts one foot forward and takes a very painful step. He can feel that the soles of his feet are numb, but the outer areas, especially around his toes are incredibly painful. His second step isn't any better and it gets just worse and worse the further he walks. The pain is all he can think about until he makes out of the soundproof room and into the room where Deeks had been tortured.
Even though he had only been a few feet away and could see the entire room, Sam feels twice as worse at the sight of the empty chair, the blood that's dripping from the arm chairs and the open, dangling arm straps. The worst sight is Deeks' green jacket, which is now hanging over the head of the chair. After Sam concludes that it had been dropped off after Deeks had been taken from the room, he takes a minute to reflect on his nightmare from five minutes ago.
Sam, why aren't you helping me?
Don't worry, Deeks. I will get us out of here.
"David…." Zurof calls out again and it comes out in a childlike whine. The SEAL straightens his body to make himself look tough even though he knows Zurof knows that he's weak. So to keep up his appearance, Sam replies shortly, "Your buddy electrocuted me- excuse me, if I'm not 100% up to speed."
"I thought you were big, bad David," Zurof laughs.
"I still am big, bad David that could break your neck at any moment. Why am I here?"
"I'd assumed that you know what Quinn's next move is since you two are good friends and not agents, correct?"
"You'd assume-"
"Are you two done?" both men suddenly hear from Michelle. She's standing at a corner doorway with two hands on her hips and her jacket dangling from her right hand. "David, come with me. Zurof, try not to accuse any one of betrayal while you're out here."
As expected, Sam hears, " Bitch," come from Zurof as he follows Michelle out of the room and into the adjourning room- an old, dusty office with only a metal table and computer chair where Deeks now sits. Deeks is sitting completely dazed with his hands dangling between his legs. There's a small drop of blood running from the bridge of his nose down to his chin that he doesn't bother wipe away.
"Ok…we're ok," Michelle whispers to herself after she closes the door behind her. Sam takes a step close to Deeks and then wearily lowers himself into a kneeling position next to the chair. He places his hand on Deeks' arm and feels all the air being sucked out of his lungs when he feels Deeks' cold and clammy skin.
"He's not going to make it much longer," Michelle says in a low voice. She crosses the room and looks down at her husband. " 17 hours is-"
Sam whips his head and feels a sharp pain in his neck. "What do you mean 17 hours?"
"How long do you think you've been gone for?"
17 hours- I can't believe it. 17 hours meant that every time he had closed his eyes, Sam hadn't been out for minutes, it had been hours. "You're telling me that I've been…that he's been bleeding out for almost an entire day?"
"Yes- Just do what I say," Michelle says in a much, clearer voice. She brushes Sam away and turns to face the door, just as the door swings open and Sidarov, his right hand man, and Zurof enter the room. Sam tries to stand up, but only lands on his butt next to Deeks' chair.
"What are you doing in here? You can't have the door closed," Zurof asks suspiciously.
Michelle jumps back into the role of Quinn. "I can do whatever the hell I want."
Zurof walks up to Michelle and whispers, "Just because you have Sidarov tied around your finger doesn't mean you can pull that same crap with me."
"I'll be sure to tell him that," Michelle replies with a smile. She raises her voice and asks, "So do you like my proposition, Isaak?"
"It's risky," Sidarov says as he walks over to the still unresponsive Deeks. "I don't know if I can trust your cop friend." Sidarov looks down at Deeks and scoffs. "He doesn't look like he even knows his name. We can't use him."
"Well, you should have thought about that before torturing me," Deeks suddenly mumbles. His voice is so weak and feeble that Sam can hear the pain in the detective's voice as he talks. A small bit of blood runs from the edge of Deeks' mouth and over the dried blood on his chin as he wearily lifts his head up to look Sidarov in the eye.
Sidarov chuckles, glances over to Zurof, and says, "Huh….did Quinn tell you what she wants?"
"For me to get LAPD off your back," Deeks sighs, "so you can kill Marcel Janvier."