Chapter 2

He only had one thought upon waking.

Nell.

Where was Nell?

His blue eyes came open at once and he sat up, a sharp tug in his right arm forcing him to stop. Looking down, he saw an IV snaking from his skin, clear fluid siphoning through the plastic tubing, and at the same time he realized that a heart monitor was beeping out his pulmonary rhythm from beside the bed.

Nell, his mind screamed. Find Nell.

Holding the IV so it wouldn't snag again, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tested them by standing up, not liking the weakness he felt in the right leg, but that was secondary to his mission. He was about to pull the heart monitor's finger cuff off when a large shadow filled the doorway, blocking his only exit.

"Hey!" The man's voice boomed. "Where d'you think you're going, G?"

"Nell," he rasped.

God, what had happened to his voice? He sounded like he'd swallowed a box of razor blades.

"Gotta find Nell."

Large hands settled on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down on the bed. He would have fought back, but damn, he was so tired. Why? he wondered. What was wrong with him?

"She's okay," the other man said, and finally Callen's foggy brain filled in who he was.

Sam.

His partner.

"She's in the room across the hall."

"I need to see her. She was..." Callen looked away suddenly, shame filling his ocean blue gaze.

"You need to get a little strength back first. I promise you, she's gonna be fine."

Now Callen looked at him. Glared at him, actually. His jaw clenched, he ground out, "Fine?" The growl slowly turned to a hoarse shout as he said, "No. She'll never be fine!"

Sam glanced quickly at the door, expecting nurses to come running, but when it remained empty he said, "Calm down, G."

His chest still heaved, but at least he stopped yelling. When he was sure it was safe, Sam quietly said, "The others are on their way. What happened to you two?"

Callen refused to meet his gaze. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"You're gonna have to, eventually," his partner told him. "You know me, G. You can trust me."

"How can I?" Callen asked, staring down at his hands.

They were scrubbed clean now, but he could still see the blood...

So softly Sam had to strain to hear, he added, "I can't even trust myself."

"What do you mean?" Sam wondered aloud, but Callen just shook his head. "Please, talk to me."

He sat there, staring at Callen's sullen profile, until Kensi and Deeks cautiously slunk into the room. Though Kensi immediately crossed the small space and bent to put her arms around the team leader, Deeks preferred to stay where he was, leaning against the door frame. Sam stood and went to join him.

"He say anything?" Deeks asked quietly, and Sam shook his head.

"Still must be in shock. Doc said there was significant trauma to a good portion of his body, not including the bullet wounds in his arm and leg."

"So they beat him half to death and shot him. Twice."

Sam nodded. "Nell, too. Among other things."

Deeks' eyes widened. "They didn't."

"They did," Sam ground out.

"So it was snuff," Marty muttered to himself, too late realizing that Sam had heard.

"You found something?"

Deeks nodded. "Not here," he said under his breath, throwing a glance at Callen, who was still sitting stiffly on the bed with Kensi's arms around him. Sam tilted his head toward the hall, and the two of them slipped out around the door frame to talk.

"Spill it," Sam ordered.

"Okay. We found where they were keeping them. It was sectioned off from the rest of the space with tarps. They had Callen chained up against a wall, and kept Nell right in front of him on the floor. Kensi found evidence of what she thinks was a video camera tripod and a computer setup of some sort. The theory - and it's only a theory until we can interrogate our survivor - is that they were using Callen and Nell for some kind of torture film. But now that we know Nell was..." he swallowed, unable to say that simple, if disturbing word. "...It was most likely a snuff film, and it's probably out there on the Internet for anyone with enough money to see."

"Have you..." Sam began, but Deeks beat him to it.

"Told Hetty? Yeah. That was a conversation I'd rather not have again. Like, ever. Eric's working on finding the footage now."

"Okay. Good work."

Deeks nodded his thanks. "You been to see her yet?"

The larger man shook his head. "Doc said she might not recognize us because of the trauma. Said I might intimidate her."

A small grin played on the surfer's lips. "You? Our resident teddy bear?"

Sam faked taking a swipe at him. "Go get a haircut, beach bum."

They shared a grin at last, and then Deeks used his thumb to gesture toward Nell's room. "Think I'll go try to talk to her."

Sam nodded. "Good luck. I'll be in here."

Deeks eased the door open and peeked inside. Nell was on the bed, her head propped up by three pillows and one more clutched to her chest. She looked so tiny there, all dressed in white on a white bed and covered by white sheets, her red hair the only real contrast inside the room. The TV was on, but though she stared at it he could tell she wasn't watching it at all.

Now that her face was clean, he could see the dark purple bruises blotching her cheeks, spreading all the way down her neck and even discoloring the milky white skin of her chest, and he suddenly wished he was in the Boat shed, taking off their suspect's fingers one at a time with a pair of rusty scissors. She must have heard the door open, for she slowly turned her head to look at him, her hazel eyes empty of all emotion. Disturbed by that but hiding it well, Deeks gave her a little smile and slipped into the room, careful not to come too close to her.

"Hey, Nell," he said softly. "How're you..."

He cut himself off, cursing his tongue. How did he think she was doing? She'd just suffered horrific torture at the hands of a bunch of sadistic psychopaths, all while her friend and team leader was forced to watch. How could he ever think she could answer that question with anything beside "Terrible" and "Kill me, please"?

"Can I get you anything?" He asked instead.

Nell looked at him blankly and then shook her head. She squeezed the pillow tighter, her eyes once more focusing on the TV, and Deeks blew out a sigh. He cautiously took a step closer, then lowered himself into the chair set a few feet from her bed.

"We're all glad to have you back," he said. "For a while there we were afraid, well..."

"That I was dead?" She asked, still looking at the TV. When he nodded she muttered, "If only."

"Hey," he said firmly but gently, and only then did she turn to look at him. "Don't do that, Nell. Please."

"I should be dead. If you knew what they did..."

"We know some of it. But you're strong, Nell. You'll get through it."

She regarded him silently for a moment. Then, standing beside the bed she put her hands on her scrub-covered hips, frowning darkly. "Get through it?" She asked. "You wanna see what I've got to 'get through'?"

"Um..." was all he could say before she turned away from him and pushed the scrub bottoms halfway down her legs. She was wearing underwear, so thankfully they were both spared that embarrassment. The backs of her thighs were so dark purple they looked black, and the bruises disappeared under the line of her panties so that he imagined it must hurt terribly to sit down. Turning around to face him again, she lifted the bottom of her scrub top so he had a clear view not only of her tiny belly button but also the deep cuts across her stomach and - yep, you guessed it - more bruises over her ribs.

"God, Nell," Deeks breathed, but she merely scowled and pulled her pants back up and crawled back onto the bed. She grabbed her thick pillow and held it close as before, her jaw clenching in a way that was disturbingly close to Callen's.

"I know he blames himself, but it wasn't his fault," she said after a long pause.

"Who? Callen?"

She nodded. "He tried so hard." Tears began to form in her eyes, turning them shiny. "He begged them to let me go."

"He didn't want to see you hurt. None of us do."

Finally, the tears burst forth with the force of a tidal wave, and Deeks forgot his apprehension and went to her. As she sobbed into her pillow he slid his arms around her and gently held her, relieved that she leaned her head against his shoulder rather than try to pull away.

"It's okay," he told her, closing his own blue eyes against the sting he felt develop behind them. "You're safe."

Standing in the doorway, her hand still on the door handle, Hetty Lange silently watched them. It was only a few moments, but she had seen enough. It would take time, but she was certain that Nell would make a full recovery from all her wounds. She closed the door and turned to the room across the hall, sighing heavily.

If only she could be so sure about Callen.

At least Nell had opened up a little. Not much, but enough to let Deeks begin to help. Callen, though, was still refusing to talk to anyone. Sam had tried, as had Kensi, but Callen remained silent about their kidnapping. Though she understood what the doctor had said about severe trauma, she knew Callen better than to think he was refusing to talk simply because he was still in shock. She had seen him endure torture before, had bound his wounds and waited until the inevitable happened and he broke down and talked himself hoarse. This, whatever had happened this time, had shaken him so deeply that she feared he would never come back from that dark place, the one he had made to let himself heal at his own pace until he felt he could trust again.

Kensi and Deeks had relayed to her the events of Callen's - and Nell's - rescue, of how detached and empty he had seemed, and she would be lying if she said it didn't scare the hell out of her. Callen was first and foremost a professional, and an agent. It was not like him to leave the rest of his team in the dark - unless, of course, he had retreated to Survival Mode, or as Sam called it, "Lone Wolf Syndrome." Hetty disliked those moments, the manufactured solitude he put himself into. Alone, he was able to survive, yes, but with his team, he thrived. Before her eyes he became the agent - the man - she always knew he would be. She'd be damned if she allowed someone to ruin that.

Standing in the doorway of his room now, she saw the hollowness of his eyes and knew that the wall had gone up. He was protecting himself.

"Mr. Callen," she said in her usual brusque tone, as if they had just come off a normal, run-of-the-mill Op.

He looked up from staring at his hands, and his eyes were so miserable if she had been a weaker person she would have burst into tears.

"Hetty," he replied, her name sounding the same as "Mom" did on a child's lips.

She moved to his bedside and inspected the bandage on his arm, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "Sloppy," she remarked. Eyeing him, she asked, "Did you squirm around as usual?"

He shook his head. "Must've been out cold for that one." Peering into her eyes, he said, "I need to see Nell."

"I'm not sure that's wise," she told him, and he visibly pouted, not caring who saw. "I can assure you, however, that she is doing just fine."

"She's not fine!" He cried again, and Sam flinched despite his size. Hetty, however, did not. "Stop saying that! You didn't see...You weren't there..."

He gave up, flopping back against the pillows. Turning his face away from them, he said, "She's not fine, and it's because of me."

Hetty turned to Sam and Kensi to ask them for privacy, but they were already quietly shuffling out into the hall. Bless them, she thought with eyes raised to the ceiling; they always seemed to know just what to do.

Turning back to Callen, she put her hand on his shoulder and felt him flinch.

"G," she said, forgoing her usual 'Callen' to instead use the more personal name she only reserved for those moments when she was feeling particularly maternal. "Look at me."

Hesitantly, he obeyed, and she observed a tear fall from his soft lashes to roll down the side of his nose. She reached up and brushed it away, then laid her hand against his stubbled cheek. He blinked slowly, seemingly trying to decide whether this was all a dream or not.

"Whatever you are feeling, whatever those people did, you are not doing Nell any justice by keeping silent about it. Now, I know you are hurting and afraid, but you are forgetting that there are people who are ready to help, who are hurting along with you both."

She lightly patted his face and then pulled away to adjust the blanket covering his legs. When she was satisfied she turned to leave, but he cleared his throat and said, "Hetty?"

"Yes?" She asked, her hand already on the doorknob.

"I killed one of them. I choked him."

She nodded. "I know."

He swallowed hard and added, "I...I watched it happen, and I...I liked it. He hurt Nell, and he made me..." he cut his gaze away, clearly not ready to divulge that much yet. "All I wanted was to see him dead."

Hetty remained silent, though she did come back over to the bed and sit down beside him, her hand placed over his.

"All I could think about was what he'd done to her, and so when I had him on the ground I felt...nothing. I felt empty. Cold." He looked up at her with fear in his eyes. "It scared me. I don't know what's happening inside me, Hetty."

"What you did is completely natural when one has endured torture," she told him. "Besides, you were fighting for both of your lives. Do not fool yourself into thinking that that man would not have killed you both." She squeezed his hand. "You did what you had to do, and that is all."

"But..."

Hetty shook her head. "Mr. Callen, you were protecting your family. Sometimes deadly force is not only allowable, but necessary. You, of all people, should know that. Now, get some rest. I need you back as soon as possible, and you putting yourself through mental stress will not help with that."

She waited until he was comfortable, and with a last brush of her hand over his short hair she left to join the others in the hall. Deeks had come out of Nell's room then, and now he leaned against the wall, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling with a look that Hetty could only describe as despair.

"Will he ever snap out of this, Hetty?" Sam asked her.

She nodded. "He will indeed, Mr. Hanna. But I fear it will take an ungodly amount of patience of all of our parts."

"Hey, I've been his partner for five years. If that's not patience I don't know what is."

She reached up and patted his wide chest. "That, it is. I take it, then, that you're staying to watch over him?"

Sam nodded. "I'll run checks on Nell, too."

"Very well." Her phone buzzed then, as did the agents', and she pulled it open to find a message from Eric there.

"Looks like Eric found the movie," Deeks said, looking at the matching text on his phone.

"Let's go," Kensi said, but Hetty shook her head.

"No, Ms. Blye. You and Mr. Deeks go to the Boatshed and talk to our suspect. I will go back to Ops alone."

"But..." Kensi began, falling silent when her partner took her arm and led her away, a grim look on his face.

"On our way," he told Hetty. He continued to pull Kensi down the halls, and only when they were far enough away did she yank out of his grasp and glower at him.

"What the hell, Deeks?" She hissed.

"This is one battle you can't fight, Kens."

"That video is our only lead on who these people are."

"And it's a graphic account of what Nell and Callen went through."

She nodded. "Right."

"Right," he echoed. "Think about this. What if that was you on that tape? Would you want everyone on the team to watch it?"

"If it helped you find them..."

He scowled and kicked at a wastebasket nearby, sending it down the hall past her. "Just stop, Kens!" He cried. "If you found out we watched that tape it would devastate you! It's bad enough that Callen was forced to watch Nell being beaten...you don't think she'd be humiliated if she knew we all saw? And what about how he'd feel? Those images are burned in his mind, Kensi. He's going to play them over and over, for the rest of his life. Why in the hell would he want anyone else to have to suffer the same fate?"

He took a breath, rubbing a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "I saw the bruises on her body, Kens. I saw the fear in her eyes. I don't need to see what's on the tape to know that it was horrifying. Hetty gave us our orders, and we're gonna follow them."

"Okay," she agreed. "But what if the suspect won't talk?"

Marty shrugged. "I've had a little practice with advanced interrogation. He'll talk."

She wasn't sure she liked how dark his tone had become, but she wasn't about to question it. Right now there were more urgent things to deal with. As he stalked out to the parking ramp, she jogged to catch up. Falling into step beside him, she said, "You're right, Deeks."

"Yeah? Bout what?"

"About the tape. I would...it would mess me up if it was me."

"Okay."

She reached over and grabbed his jacket, pulling him around to face her. "If that ever...if something like that ever happens...Promise me you won't watch."

"Kensi..." he began, but she shook him once.

"Promise me, Deeks."

Gently prying her fist from his jacket, he nodded down at her, his eyes serious. "I promise."

She scrutinized his eyes, determining his honesty, and then nodded back. "Okay."

They found the car and got in, the doors slamming making an echo in the ramp around them. Deeks put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot, then drove out of the ramp and headed for the waterfront. Kensi was silent the whole time and it worried him, though for now he rationalized it by telling himself she was worried for their friends. A deeper part of him - one that sounded terrifyingly similar to Hetty - told him that wasn't all there was to it, but at this point he wasn't ready to explore it any further.

Soon, absolutely, but not now.

TBC...