Chapter 4

Kensi and Deeks stood in the main room of the Boatshed, watching the suspect from the surveillance camera placed in the interrogation room. Currently, he was drumming on the table, though it was less a nervous habit and more out of pure boredom.

"How should we play this?" Kensi asked, biting her thumbnail.

Deeks glowered at the monitor. "How 'bout, we're friends of the people they took and if he doesn't spill his guts we spill 'em for him?"

She looked at him, dark eyes wide, but when he remained serious she left him in that dark place and simply said, "Okay." Truthfully, she was just as angry and anxious to know what the suspect knew, and she wasn't about to wait for him to cooperate, either.

"If things get messy and Granger finds out..." Deeks began, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"He won't."

"Are we really gonna do this?"

She took a breath. "If you don't want to, I'll go in alone..."

He shook his blond hair. "No. It's just that...last time I did something like this the man I tortured ended up being innocent."

Her dark gaze regarded him, and she reached up to touch his cheek. "Except we know this one isn't."

Deeks nodded. "Right."

"Ready?"

Another nod. "Ready."

Deeks entered Interrogation alone, and stood on the other side of the table. The seated man stared up at him with a smirk.

"What's your name?" Deeks asked.

The smirk remained.

"Who do you work for?"

No reaction.

"You're the only one left. All your friends are dead."

Still nothing.

"Okay, fine," Deeks said, pulling the door open so Kensi could walk in. "We'll do this the hard way."

That, at least, got some kind of response.

Leaning forward, the man said, "I know my rights. I want a lawyer."

Kensi stuck out her bottom lip. "Well, well. He speaks English."

"Yeah," Deeks replied, "and with no trace of an accent, either. Could we be lucky enough to have left the only American member of the group alive?"

"What're the odds?" His partner wondered aloud.

"I don't have to say anything to you," the suspect taunted. "And you can't make me."

Deeks glared at him. "Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?"

The man pointed up at the black globe containing the surveillance camera. "This is being recorded. You wouldn't dare lay a hand on me, or you'd be charged with police brutality."

"He's right, y'know," Kensi said to Deeks. "Well, sort of."

"He would be, if he was arrested by the LAPD. Too bad he was caught by NCIS, and is being held as a domestic terrorist."

Kensi looked at the man and lifted her shoulders in a silent "Oh, well."

"So," Deeks said, "let's try this again. What's your name?"

"Domestic terrorist?" The suspect cried, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. "I didn't commit any terrorist act!"

Quickly losing patience, the normally easygoing surfer slammed his hands on the table and bored his eyes into the other man's face.

"You and your freshly-dead friends took our two friends - federal agents - and beat them, all while videotaping it for sale on the black market! If you don't start giving me the names of your clients, I'm gonna start carving my friends' names onto your chest with a razor blade, so start talking!"

The man finally seemed shaken. His eyes wide, he looked to Kensi for help, but she simply stared back, her eyes cold.

"But...but the camera..." he stammered.

"No one's monitoring it," Deeks informed him. "And once we're done here, whether it gets messy or not, the tape is gonna disappear. Whether you disappear along with it is up to you."

"I...I don't..."

"Names!" Deeks shouted. "Starting with yours!"

"Okay!" The man cried, cowering in his seat as best he could. "My name is Gary Brown..."

The door opened, and when Nell saw Callen shuffling through it she jumped up and ran to meet him. If Sam hadn't been there to put a steadying hand on his back he would've fallen over when she threw her arms around him, her face buried against his starched white top.

"I know," he murmured into her hair. "I was scared for you, too."

"I keep having this dream that you died," she said, her voice muffled by his clothing. "And then I wake up here alone..."

He held her at arms' length and gazed down into her hazel eyes. "You don't have to be, Nell. I won't leave you alone, ever again."

"Whoa," Sam said then. " I know you wanna protect her, but..."

"Not even up for debate, Sam," Callen stated. "I'm moving into this room, today."

"G."

"Sam?" It was a challenge, and even with his weakened state Sam knew better than to push Callen any farther.

Sighing, Sam threw up his hands. "I'll go find someone to move your stuff."

Callen led Nell back to her bed and helped her climb back into it. He tried to pull her covers up over her but the motion hurt the bullet wound in his arm and he cradled it to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Nell watched with wide eyes, her own heart aching for him. He looked better than he had when they were rescued - physically, anyway - but his eyes had lost their spark, and when she'd hugged him he'd felt stiff. He'd never been one to show much physical affection, but now he felt terrified by her touch, almost as if he were preparing to bolt. She hated it. Hated those men and what they'd done. They'd hurt her, but what they'd done to Callen was ten times worse. Even thinking about it in such a vague way made her stomach turn. He hadn't deserved it - any of it - and if there had been any way for her to spare him from it, she would have done so in a heartbeat.

But it was done, and now she was staring at the aftermath of it all.

"Sit," she quietly said, scooting over to make room. Callen considered it for a moment and then sank onto the narrow bed beside her, his right leg hanging off the side. He was careful not to let too much of his body touch hers, and she tried to do the same simply to put him at ease even though every fiber of her being wanted to put her arms around him, to feel his around her as well.

"Y'know what the worst part is?" She asked him. He shook his head. "It's the stuff they do here. The pictures and the exam and the pills. They try to make you feel okay, but it's still just as invasive and violating. I wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go."

Unsure of which situation she meant by that last sentence, Callen nodded and said, "I know how that feels."

She ducked her head timidly, recalling his past, and they both fell silent, staring emptily at the program on TV. They were still that way when Sam returned with news that Callen's room change had been granted. He was about to sit down with them when his cell phone rang, and he went out into the hall to answer it.

"What've you got, Kensi?" He asked after seeing the caller ID.

"Our suspect talked. We got the names of all those who paid to receive the video, as well as the head of the whole operation."

Sam felt his insides leap for joy. "Good. Go get 'em, Xena."

She chuckled into his ear and then asked, "How's Callen?"

Sam poked his head in to glance at the pair on the bed. "Same as before, only he's not whining about being with Nell anymore."

"He forced you to move him, didn't he?"

The SEAL flinched as if he'd been hit. "How'd you know?"

"He's still protecting her. It makes sense he would wanna be as close to her as possible."

"Yeah, well, he's still a major pain in the ass."

"I know," she said sympathetically. "I'll be there soon to take over the watch. Need anything?"

Sam grimaced more for his own benefit since she couldn't see him. "Tranquilizers. And duct tape."

She just laughed. "See you soon."

He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket, then went back into the room only to see Nell fast asleep, curled up on her bed with pillows - most likely put there by Callen - surrounding her body. Callen himself flipped endlessly through the channels, but when he saw Sam standing there he said, "She's exhausted."

"You look pretty wiped yourself," his partner told him. "Maybe take a cue from her?"

Callen shook his head. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" Sam parroted. "What're you waiting for?"

"It doesn't matter."

It took every ounce of patience Sam possessed to drop the subject right there. He recalled what Hetty had said about giving Callen time, and he was trying, he really was. But this was a whole lot harder than simply getting Callen to talk about his childhood or his undercover marriage to Tracy. This pain was fresh, and so deep it cut to Callen's very soul. It was going to take some extensive therapy to regain what had been taken from him, and even then he might never be the same as he was before. Sam didn't care about that. He just wanted to see his partner smile again, and if that meant he got dragged through the depths of Hell, well then, he'd go get the marshmallows.

It wasn't the beatings that were the worst. She could block them out eventually by going limp and sending her mind someplace else. The sad part of that was she had learned how to do it simply from these sessions. The leader of this merry band of miscreants was always the one who beat her. He used his fists for the most part, but when he tired of that he would pick up a broomstick and use it instead. She always heard Callen's protests, far off in the back of her mind, and even that she could live with. It was pretty much expected for him to beg for mercy - not for himself, never for himself - since he was the team leader. In fact, if he didn't put up a fight the men would have wondered why.

The worst part wasn't even being raped. That, too, she could block out, and often did especially after the first time. It always came after the beating, when she was bruised and weak, her muscles still twitching from the nerves being overworked. The second in command, a tall man with a ponytail, was the one to perform this vile act upon her. That was something she noticed and filed away for later - each of the five men had a specific role to play, and in the three? five? days she and Callen were kept they never deviated from these roles. It was almost as if the entire operation was scripted, the five men simply actors playing their parts. If it hadn't been so horrible, it would've been amusing.

The first time...Ah, yes. The beating ended, and the leader looked at Callen, who was knocked unconscious so that only his shackled arms kept him upright. Clucking his tongue, he jerked his head toward her prone form, and so the second-in-command held her down and forced himself on her. She tried to fight, but he was strong - about as muscular as Sam and even taller than him. It went on for what seemed like an hour, and then slowly Callen came to and realized what was happening.

He struggled against his chains at once, throwing curses as he nearly broke his arms trying to get free. Nell had long since decided to lay still - the equivalent of playing dead. She made the mistake, however, of turning her head at just the wrong time and catching a noseful of the man's musky cologne mixed with the bitter tang of her own blood, and before she could warn him she threw up on both him and herself. It wasn't much as she hadn't had any food in almost a day and a half, but it was enough to anger him to the point that he slammed her head against the ground and knocked her out. From that time on, she was careful to keep her eyes closed and her head turned to the side, some part of her mind hearing Callen string together every swear word and death threat he could think of in every language he knew.

And now, she came to understand the worst part of this whole ordeal. It was happening again - she was lying there with her eyes closed trying to send herself far away when something - a noise, maybe? - made her open them again. She found herself staring at Callen's face, and the look in his blue eyes finally made her break down. It was like looking at the eyes of a child orphaned by war - shell-shocked and desolate of any hope, left alone with no idea what to do next. Forgetting her own situation, she only wished to run to him, to throw her arms around him and tell him it was all okay. It didn't matter that it wasn't, she just wanted him to stop looking like that.

When Nell started awake a while later, the sky outside her hospital room window was dark. Likewise, her room lights had been dimmed until they were barely there, the only illumination coming from her TV. A documentary about fish was currently playing there, the narrator's voice a dull contrast to the brightly colored fish darting through the turquoise ocean. She felt eyes watching her and turned her head sharply to the left, then let out the breath she had been holding.

"Callen," she sighed. "I thought..."

"Didn't mean to scare you," he said by way of apology, but she shook her head.

"It's okay."

He noticed her wince as she moved to sit up, and he leaned forward and asked, "Need help?"

She gave another shake of her head. "No, I'm okay."

To prove it, she braced her hands on either side of the thin mattress and slowly pushed herself up. She held her breath to keep from crying out as her ribs protested even the slightest movement, but she refused to let Callen see how much pain she was in. He felt guilty enough as it was; seeing her struggle - or worse, admit defeat - would do nothing to help him. In fact, it might even push him over the edge, and she would absolutely not do that to him.

Once she was upright, she relaxed into her pillows and pulled her blanket up over her chest, then chanced a look at him. Despite her attempt, his eyes took on that look of guilt and defeat, so she turned away to stare at the TV.

"Did Sam go home?" She asked, desperate to break the silence.

She heard rather than saw him shift in his chair. "We could only be so lucky. He's wandering around out there somewhere. Said something about looking for good coffee."

She allowed herself a small smile. "He's just worried about you."

"Us."

She wrinkled her brow. "Hmm?"

"He's worried about us," he said again.

"Oh."

"Kensi says hi, by the way."

Now she turned back to him, her eyes wide. "She was here?"

Callen nodded.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"She tried to wake you, but you were too wiped out." He leaned back and grabbed something from her side table. As he handed her a card, he said, "She left this for you."

He moved again, and the light over her bed brightened enough so she could see the card. On the front was a watercolor field of flowers in various shades of pink and purple, and the inside was originally blank but now carried Kensi's flowing penmanship.

"Nell," she read aloud, "Sorry I couldn't stay long, but Callen and Sam will take good care of you. I'll be around tomorrow. Love you, Kensi. PS, enjoy the Oreo's."

She looked up at Callen in confusion, but only for a moment until he handed her a small package of cookies. Smiling, she took them and set them on her lap.

"Your favorite," he noted, and she nodded.

She went back to watching the documentary, simultaneously enjoying and fearing the silence between them. She could almost feel Callen pulling away emotionally and she hated it, but she felt powerless to stop it from happening. Everything she wanted to say fizzled on her tongue before she could even open her mouth, and so she blankly stared at the television, tears pricking her eyelids but refusing to fall.

TBC...