Chapter 12: Found
"We loved with a love that was more than love." - Edgar Allan Poe.
Trust, Deeks muses, is an odd thing. It's fickle, fleeting, occasionally deep and abiding. It can be life-altering, defining in the way he's seen with Sam and Callen. It can be earned, lost, won, and broken. It's hard to gain, easy to lose, and impossible to replace. It's also the most dangerous thing in their business, and the fastest way to get yourself killed. Trust, Deeks thinks as he watches Jack pick his way across the ridge opposite his position, is about to stab them in the back.
"Deeks, are you in position?"
The detective shifts his weight enough to pull his radio from the front pocket of his jeans, fingers brushing over the Beretta holstered against his thigh, and glances at Jack one more time before answering, "In position. Are we sure this is a good idea?"
"Which part?" Callen demands, his voice sharp with static and something else that Deeks can't place. He scans the hills and ridges opposite the low cave opening that Jack's picking his way towards, trying to spot G's perch, but the sniper's position is well concealed, "The one where we save your partner or the one where we have to trust her ex-fiancé to do it?"
That brings Deeks up short. He'd love to be able to say that he's the bigger man, that there's no jealousy clouding his judgement, but he knows himself better than that. He's seeing Jack through the eyes of the good old green-eyed monster and he knows it. Jack had everything with Kensi, everything that Deeks wants, and instead he broke her heart. Callen continues in the wake of his silence, "You may not trust him, Deeks, but right now we need him."
"You say that like you do trust him." The detective points out and this time the silence stretches on Callen's end. Deeks shifts uncomfortably, already feeling sand work its way into places that he'd rather it didn't, and rubs his hands together against the bitter nip in the wind. Don't get him wrong he's a surfer, but this isn't Malibu and he wasn't lying when he said that his idea of roughing it involved being at a pool party with only one cabana. It's starting to get really chilly out here, but then again Deeks supposes that L.A. has probably spoiled him. Sometimes it's hard to remember that winter exists when you live in a place that rarely sees snow.
"I understand why he did what he did, Deeks," Callen says eventually, just as Deeks is getting ready to check and make sure his radio is working. The ex-operative's voice is resigned, wary, and more than a little closed off. Abruptly Deeks remembers that G was CIA at one point too and he probably can relate with Jack in all sorts of ways. That is of course assuming that the traitor's telling the truth. "That doesn't mean I trust him."
"Look alive," Callen snaps suddenly and Deeks focuses back on the scene in front of him as Jack picks his way down the ridge opposite, moving to greet the man that steps away from the low cave entrance that his partner's being held on the other side of and Deeks feels rage burn low in his gut. These people are holding Kensi, his partner, and he wants nothing more than to storm down there and blow them all to kingdom come. Instead he takes a deep breath, then another when the first only makes his head feel like it's going to explode, and forces his rage down to simmer on the back burner. She's a thousand times more important than his need to inflict some brutal type of vengeance.
The two men exchange a few words before the Afghani says something that makes Jack's head snap up, his whole body going rigid with tension. Jack says something, his lips moving rapid fire, and yet Deeks can't make it out despite the lip reading classes he'd been getting from Kensi before she got sent to this backwater hellhole. Deeks watches as the former Special Forces operator glances his way, gaze coming just short of revealing his position before glancing to the southeast where Callen's perch is hidden among the scabby bushes and stunted vegetation. Deeks shifts again, feeling unease creep icy fingers up his spine as Jack scans the ridge line like he's trying to pick out their positions.
"Do we know what that was all about?" Deeks questions lowly, once the former soldier turns away. They've got no way of hearing what's going on because Jack's not carrying any kind of comm. He could be walking in there to get Kensi out like he's claimed or he could be about to turn them over to a den of terrorists and they've got absolutely no way of knowing.
"No," Callen's voice is terse, tense in a way that Deeks can relate to and he remembers the former spy scanning the entrances and exits of that crappy old metal shop back in Jalalabad like he was expecting an ambush, or remembering one. He's got the same tone now that he did then. "Just be ready to move."
Deeks nods before realizing that G probably can't see it and clicks the button on his radio twice in acknowledgement. He shifts into a crouch the moment Jack disappears from view, pulling his Beretta and clicking off the safety. Callen might not have said so, but they're definitely not taking any prisoners. Four years ago before he joined NCIS he probably would have had a problem with that. He'll be worried about that later.
The detective skids his own way down the opposite side of the ridge, one hand held out parallel with the sand to keep his balance. He's just getting to level ground, forty feet from the entrance, when the gun shots start, muzzle flashes lighting up the low cave opening that Kensi's being held inside of. Deeks' grip on the Beretta is suddenly unsteady and it takes a handful of heartbeats before he can force his feet to move.
The first of the Afghani terrorists appears in front of him, bringing a damn machine gun to bear on Deeks, and in the sliver of time it takes for Deeks to swing his gun up the man's already falling, the crack of Callen's rifle echoing around the gully a second later. "You're welcome." Callen snips blithely from the radio on the detective's hip, "Focus, Deeks. You need to get eyes on Kensi."
Deeks swallows, resolutely not looking at the dead terrorist that's bleeding out on the sand ten paces in front of him and nods, grounding himself. Kensi's counting on him and he hasn't come half way around the world and broken half a dozen international laws to get here just to leave without her. He swallows again thickly, grateful that his hands have stopped shaking. Sunshine and gunpowder… except right now he could do with less sunshine and more gunpowder.
He doesn't make it very far though. Three more steps and Deeks jerks to a halt, his gun coming up again. Kensi's standing in front of him, her dark hair blown out in a messy halo, and blood drying on her face. Deeks feels fear wrap cold fingers around his heart because there's a man standing behind her, and a gun pressed tight against his partner's temple.