Brotherhood

Chapter 18

...

The last bite of cornbread stuck in his throat as his restless mind replayed this morning's scene again and again, his simmering rage close to choking him. Deeks had only nibbled at the food Addy had brought, but he practically guzzled a couple of cups of the bitter coffee and Callen was fairly sure he did it to try and stay awake. It hadn't worked and now he sat watching him mumble through a fitful sleep, and he tightened his grip on the gun, holding it rigidly between his knees, ready for whatever might come next. Addy had told him they wouldn't be disturbed until supper, but he wasn't counting on it, so he sat in the rickety chair against the wall at the end of the bed so he could keep an eye on the door and his brother. He still found it hard to even say that word, to call him brother to his face, afraid it might jinx what existed between them now, not that he was superstitious. Sam had laughed when he told him that early on, teasing him, calling him a "scaredy cat" as if he were a child and telling him Deeks wasn't going anywhere. Deeks always called him brother so easily and it made him smile even now, in this godforsaken place.

He had never felt as helpless as he'd felt last night and again this morning, fearing not just what they might do to Deeks physically, but that their violence might bring back all the horror the former Stasi agent Wilhelm Jürgen had put him through in South Africa. He had only witnessed the results of that man's methods of torture, but all the panic attacks Deeks had suffered in the aftermath of that ordeal had hinted at the terrible psychological abuse he must have gone through. They had all tried at one time or another to get him to share some of what had clearly traumatized him, but he'd always refused to speak about it. They all knew he was holding back the worst of it, and Callen had always defended his right to do that, just as he himself had kept most of his childhood terrors to himself, even when Sam pushed him to open up. Some things were too painful to voice. Bringing them out of the shadows only made them real again.

He had seen the haunted look on Deeks' face when Saint had started in on him, had seen him unwittingly flinch when the man put his hands on his naked body. The rage was evident, but it had quickly changed to resignation when he looked over at him, and Callen had guessed the bastard had threatened to hurt him if Deeks didn't cooperate. It was one of the many things that still ignited his anger, that Deeks would sacrifice himself to protect him. He wasn't surprised by his willingness to do that, but he hated to be the cause of his suffering.

As a child he had no experience being a close friend, let alone a sibling, and he'd hated that loneliness, always jealous of those kids he saw with a loving family. Most of the families he'd become familiar with were phony ones, their homes desperate places warehousing desperate kids just trying to survive. Everyone kept their distance from everyone else. Harrowing experiences and just plain neglect were the norm that he'd run from whenever he got the chance, and that made for few friends, and none he would ever call brother. It was too dangerous emotionally to get close to any of the other kids, because if you did it hurt like hell when they were taken away and especially if they were punished. Some kids simply folded in on themselves, resigned to whatever pain was coming, accepting that somehow they deserved it. Some, like him, carried a chip on their shoulder and fought all comers, especially his so-called foster parents. He'd had a few good experiences. They just never lasted very long.

It was Sam who had taught him what it was like to have a brother, and he cared deeply for him, but his feelings for Deeks after seeing him practically destroyed by a psychopath had caught him unawares and he had fought those emotions for a long time. Not anymore. Not after seeing him struggle to overcome what Jürgen had done to him. That he had survived still amazed him, and when he saw Saint cut the clothes from his body leaving him naked and vulnerable just as he'd been with Jürgen, it sent a surge of raw, almost debilitating rage through him. He remembered his mother's death and the seething urge for vengeance that had filled most of his life. He had shot down as many of the murderous family who had killed her without hesitation or remorse. When Saint had cut Deeks down from that post and thrown him to the ground and then come close to violating him, he had felt nothing but icy coldness settle over his heart. He had shivered uncontrollably with the need to kill the man and the violence he'd wanted to unleash had truly stunned him. If he'd been free in that moment, he would have blown the sonofabitch away without a second thought and probably everyone else in the vicinity. Even after a couple of hours he was still jumpy and ready to take his deep rage out on anyone who dared to threaten either one of them, especially the man he had finally accepted as his brother.

"You planning on shooting somebody?" Deeks asked quietly.

Callen was startled by his voice, drawn abruptly out of his dark thoughts, cursing under his breath as he stumbled up from the chair. Deeks was watching him with turbulent eyes, his face softening into that vulnerable look that always tore at his heart. It did nothing now to calm him, only adding to his fear that Saint's sadistic treatment had brought back unwanted memories.

"He's not even close," Deeks said, surprising him by reading his thoughts so easily.

"Still..."

"Yeah, no...it brought it back, but..."

"You can talk to me...brother," he said, the sudden tears unexpected as he spoke that meaningful word.

There was a flicker of a smile from Deeks, but then he grimaced as he sat up and swung his feet over the far side of the bed. Keeping his back to Callen, he gripped the rough mattress as he waited out the obvious pain. Neither one said anything and the tension in the tiny cabin made it hard for Callen to breathe. He didn't want to push him or make him relive any of what had happened to him anymore than he already had, but he was willing to listen if he wanted to unburden himself.

"You haven't called me that in a long time," Deeks said softly.

"I know," he replied. "Thought you might need to be reminded in case you wanted to talk about..."

"Jürgen."

He breathed out the name without inflection, but the weight of that name hung heavily between them. Deeks ran his hand up into the hair at the base of his neck, fiddling nervously with it, and Callen kept quiet.

"Talking won't change anything," Deeks said, bowing his head. "And believe me, you don't want to know all of it."

"You think it'll make me think less of you if I knew what that bastard did that you're afraid to talk about?" Callen asked. "Because you'd be wrong."

"Maybe I don't want to risk it."

"You wouldn't be," he replied. "You're not the only one with demons."

"For so-called brothers, we don't know much about each other, do we?" Deeks said, his voice hollow and full of warning and accusations. "You've never talked about your childhood and I understand that. And I don't talk much about mine. Why walk through shit a second time."

He sounded deeply angry by the end of his comment and Callen moved closer, feeling the need to close the distance that seemed to have suddenly grown up between them. This was not what he'd wanted, but maybe he was naive to think it would go any other way.

"I'm not ashamed of my childhood, Deeks," Callen ventured. "But I think you're ashamed of something that wasn't even your fault."

Deeks flinched and then his muscles coiled and hardened. He uttered a low feral sound and bolted off the bed, charging straight at Callen.

"You don't know shit," he yelled, slamming him against the wall and hitting him before he could get his arm up to stop him.

Callen dodged the next punch, grappling with him as he spit out curses, trying desperately not to hurt him.

"Stop it!" Callen roared in his face, finally managing to twist his arm up behind his back and shove him onto the bed. "Just stop it."

Deeks went limp then and Callen let him be, exhausted by the fight and the emotions it had churned up. He reached out to him, gently squeezing his shoulder as he curled in on himself.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said. "I should have left it alone."

"Don't touch me...not now...please..."

The chilling memories of his fear of being touched after they got him away from Jürgen nearly broke him and he stood up and moved across the room. He fought back tears as his anger returned, silently berating himself for going anywhere near that subject. He was afraid their relationship had been irreparably damaged by what had just happened, and it saddened him, leaving him distraught and unsure as to how to repair it.

"Did I hurt you?" Deeks asked softly.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, no...of course."

"I'll leave if you want," Callen said wearily.

"Don't...brother. Just listen."

Callen felt his heart flutter, realizing how hard it was going to be just to listen. Then he reminded himself how hard Deeks had fought to get back to being himself...the long recovery from his injuries...all the panic attacks and the nightmares he'd dealt with. He had survived it all and now all he was asking was for him to listen as he shared one of the most painful experiences of his life.

"You sure?" Callen asked.

"If I can't tell my brother..."

When he stopped, Callen turned to see him sitting on the end of the bed rubbing his trembling hands up and down the sides of his jeans, his head down and his wild hair shielding his eyes. He was afraid to move or make a sound, knowing how skittish Deeks was at this moment and how close he was to tearing out the door to find someone to take his anger out on. So he forced himself to remain patient, to listen to his brother, each one trusting the other with the weight of such a long held and painful secret.

"What Saint did...and tried to do," he stopped and took a deep breath. "It was different. It pissed me off. He's just a bully...a messed up one for sure, but...nothing like Jürgen...nothing."

Deeks became still for a moment, his hands forming into fists as he gathered himself, and Callen's anger flared that the man still held such power over him.

"After the Afrikaners stripped me naked...he had every part of my body tied to the bars of that cell...so tight I couldn't move...couldn't breathe..." Deeks started hesitantly, the words barely audible. "Jurgen loved to watch me struggle...at first...I struggled at first...then they shaved my head...and after a few days...I just froze when he came at me. He'd beat me... press on my broken ribs to make me scream...he got off on hearing me scream. And when he finally stopped...when the pain stopped...I was so damn grateful...G. I was grateful to that sonofabitch."

"Deeks..." Callen whispered.

"His hands...his hands were...soft," Deeks breathe out haltingly. "And...he took his time. His hands were always on me...touching me...stroking every part of my body...always talking...whispering in my ear what he was going to do...reminding me what he'd already done...stretching it out for what seemed like hours...long hours in the dark."

Callen wasn't sure how to comfort him, afraid to touch him, afraid to let him go on.

"Stop if you want to..."

"It was so intimate...just the two of us...private...," he continued as if he hadn't heard him, and Callen moved closer until finally sitting down on the bed next to him.

"The sonofabitch wanted me...wanted me to enjoy what he was doing. He aroused me G...he was gentle and...I appreciated that. I know that sounds sick...but I was just so thankful to be free of the constant pain...I needed that," Deeks whispered as tears streaked down his face.

He let out a broken sob and got up, walking over to the small window to stare blankly out.

"He made me cum, G...that monster made me...cum," his voice low and filled with disgust. "It was the only release I got...and it felt good...it felt good and I hated that it did...I hated myself for that...I still do."

Callen got up from the bed and moved to stand as close to him as he dared, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Still want to be my brother?" Deeks choked out, his head down, looking so uncertain it made Callen angry.

"I'm proud you're my brother, Marty," Callen said firmly, no doubt in his mind or in his voice and it made Deeks turn to face him. "Nothing will ever change that. Nothing that bastard did to you will. Nothing."

Deeks grabbed his tee shirt and pulled him into a fierce hug, holding on to him as if he couldn't believe what he said was true. Callen felt such relief as he wrapped his arms around him and then roughed up his unruly hair, trying to comfort him and stem his own tears, wanting to be as tough as he was.

"You're the strongest person I know, brother," Callen said. "Don't doubt that or yourself. You didn't do anything wrong, Deeks. You survived, and whatever it took to do that is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I never want to talk about this ever again," Deeks said hoarsely. "You're the only one I've told, and the only one I'll ever tell."

"No one will ever hear it from me," Callen said as they parted.

"I know."

"You okay?"

"I want to beat the crap out of somebody, but that's probably not a good idea right now," Deeks said as he lifted his tee shirt to wipe his face and eyes.

Callen handed him a bottle of water and waited while he downed it, wanting him to have the time to gather himself, to let the dark memories recede once again. He almost wished Jürgen was still alive so he could make the bastard suffer as he had Deeks, but the Atwoods had seen to that in the most brutal way possible. They had saved his brother and punished his abuser with a horrible death and for that Callen would always be grateful.

"Those bastards last night have to be dealt with," Callen said, wanting to bring him back to the present, to concentrate on the assignment. "Wouldn't be like the Hale brothers to let something like that go."

"I think Tino and I are even," Deeks said. "But the others are fair game."

"We take 'em on one at a time, Jimmy," Callen said with a smirk.

"No lone wolf action, Jake," Jimmy warned. "We do it together, brother."

"You scared I can't handle one of those scumbags?" Callen asked with a widening smile.

"Well, you are kinda old," his old cocky grin flickering briefly. "But the only thing I'm scared of...is seeing you hurt or worse, so as Roy would say...don't do nothin' stupid."

A piercing scream startled them both, and Callen turned to stare out the window.

"Saint," Deeks said softly, and sat down to pull on his socks and shoes.

"Not sure I want to see what a gator can do to a man," Callen said.

"Jake would and so would Jimmy," Deeks said as he stood up and shoved his gun behind his back.

"You're one tough sonofabitch, Jimmy Hale."

"Tougher'n you, big brother," he boasted and grinned cockily.

"Yeah...you are," Callen said quietly, his eyes misting as they stood staring at each other.

"I don't know how to..." Deeks dropped his head and Callen reached out to grip the back of his neck.

"You're my brother, Marty," he told him. "You can trust me. I'll always have your back."

"Thanks, brother."

"You ready?"

"Glad I didn't eat much. Wouldn't want to puke up that cornbread in front of all those dickheads," Deeks said with an exaggerated shiver. "But you did, big brother."

Callen slapped him on the back and shoved him toward the door as he grinned at him, thankful he had shared his burden and thankful for the brotherly love they felt for one another. That he no longer doubted.

...

The last time he was in this old boat shed was over three years ago. They had been brought here after Marty's memorial service when everyone thought he was dead. When Hetty had told them then that they believed his adopted son was still alive, it had been the beginning of a hellish period in his life, full of emotional ups and downs that had left the two of them estranged. He and Marty had worked things out and had become closer than ever, but now he feared for him again. Joe was safe and he'd been elated by the news, but Agent Slater's comments about Marty's situation and the violent man he and Callen were trying to bring down, had troubled him deeply. He wanted desperately to be able to talk to him, to listen to his voice and judge for himself how he was handling being around such a violent man, but he knew it wasn't possible. The man called Guidry had almost killed his son Joe, and now his other one was within that same man's reach and he didn't like it. Not at all, and he wasn't leaving this place until Hetty told him what was going on.

"Hello, George. So good to see you again," Hetty said as she walked in to greet him and Diane.

"What the hell is Slater doing here?" He asked as the agent walked in behind her.

George stood quickly, agitated by his presence, putting his arm around Diane as she got up and went rigid with anger. He knew how she felt about him after what he'd done to separate her from her little boy, and he was damned if he was going to let the rank bastard upset her.

"Mr. Slater has nothing to do with the reason you two are here," Hetty assured them. "However, I thought you might be interested in my response to the comments he made to you last night."

"What are you talking about?" Slater asked, sounding pissed as well as looking confused. "How do you even know what I said? All the surveillance equipment was removed. On your orders by the way. Whatever these two told you I doubt you can count on."

"What I do count on, other than the veracity of Mr. Atwood and Diane, is my agent, Miss Blye," she replied starchily. "Oh, and did I mention I had Mrs. Hanna install one tiny little bug that was for my ears only? Amazing how undetectable the CIA's devices are these days."

"You've been listening to us the whole time?" Diane asked, sounding shaken by the news.

"A nasty habit I have dear, but nothing you should be concerned about," she replied. "Whatever was said will be kept secret and in the strictest of confidence, I promise you. I'm afraid I wanted to keep tabs on Agent Slater here, in case he continued to put his foot in his mouth on his way to overstepping his parameters."

"What the hell does that mean?" Slater snapped.

"It means, Agent Slater, that you broke a few too many laws when you accessed Mr. Deeks' juvenile records," she said solemnly. "You not only illegally accessed files that had been sealed by the courts to protect an abused child, but you managed to get your hands on some NCIS personnel files that frankly, were none of your damn business."

"I'm a member of the Terrorism Task Force," he replied arrogantly. "I have a right to see the files on whoever's involved in this case so I can determine if they're trustworthy."

"What you did Mr. Slater, was not only illegal, but a breach of protocol," Hetty replied pointedly. "And I'm afraid you will be held accountable for it."

"This is ridiculous," Slater sputtered. "I don't answer to you. I'm FBI."

"Surely you recall the papers you signed when you so eagerly agreed to join our secret task force, don't you Mr. Slater?" Hetty asked with a tight smile. "They assigned you to me. You work for me Agent Slater, and it is my opinion that you don't measure up. You certainly don't work well with others and you continually overstep your bounds. Therefore, I am having you taken into custody and denying you any further access to government intel. You will be spending the remainder of this mission in a secure safe house, where you can be closely monitored."

"This is outrageous," Slater fumed, glowering at Hetty as two members of the tactical squad came in to stand on either side of him.

"That would be your behavior, Mr. Slater," she replied. "I don't tolerate agents who add to the problem instead of helping to solve it. Now, go along nicely or I'll have these gentlemen put you in handcuffs. I rather believe the Atwoods would enjoy seeing that."

Slater appeared to be in shock as he was led out of the boat shed, and George could feel Diane relax beside him.

"Damn woman...remind me never to tangle with you," George said, letting out a relieved laugh.

"I've had some experience dealing with people who got too big for their britches," she said with a bemused smile. "And this little twit had it coming."

"Thank you, Hetty," Di said quietly.

"It was a true pleasure, my dear," she replied. "Now, would you like to talk to your husband? I believe you have some good news to share with him."

"He's awake?" George asked.

"And doing much better," she replied. "Our Mr. Beale has set you up with a Skype session on the big screen. I hope you don't mind if I stay."

"After what you just did, you are more than welcome," Di said.

"Kinda wondering if you might not be breaking a rule or two by doing this," George said.

"Don't worry, George, the feed is secure and no one will find out Joe is still among the living," she assured him "Besides, some rules are meant to be broken."

"Especially if they're your own rules," he replied, appreciating the tiny woman more than he already did.

When the screen flashed and Joe appeared on screen, George walked over to be as close as he could be to the son he so longed to hug. Bruises and cuts marred his face and he looked so very tired. His forearm was wrapped in a thick bandage and encased in a sling that held it close to his chest, but it was the tears in his eyes and the weary smile that most held his attention. Joe had always been a strong, active man, a person who charged through life, confident in his abilities, and diligent in doing his duty with an unshakable sense of right and wrong. Today there was a look of defeat in his eyes like a horse that had been ridden too hard and too far and was close to collapse. It was the look he'd seen when he'd told him his older brother Chris had been killed in Afghanistan. That sense of defeat had been temporary, gradually morphing into rage and George wondered if his son would experience that same transformation this time, or already had, but keeping it hidden from them, especially from Diane.

"God it's good to see you," Joe said, his smile tentative.

"Tell us how you are, son," George said. "We've been worried."

"Damn tired, Dad," he said, his eyes dark and furtive as if his mind were elsewhere. "Doc's gonna keep me for a few days longer. Got mauled by a dog and infection set in. But, I'll make it."

"We'll be at the ranch when you get there," Di said quietly, looking as though she couldn't quite believe he was real. "Little Chris is missing his daddy. Talks about you all the time. Runs to the door if he hears a car pull up."

"I miss you all so much," he replied. "Have you been okay? Elan said the FBI told you I was a traitor. The sonsabitches. Still damn pissed about that and worried for you."

"You know we would never believed any of that bull, son," George quickly said. "Diane was a trooper and Callen and Marty stood by us both till they took off to look for you."

"Couldn't believe it when I saw that dumbass grinnin' at me," Joe's laugh faded and he looked away as his eyes watered. "I didn't think I'd ever see any of you again...I almost didn't make it, Dad. Thinking of Di and Chris...all of you...it kept me going."

"Your safe now, Cuz," Elan's voice cutting in.

"Yeah...but Marty and G aren't," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Any news?"

"Nothing I can share at the moment, Mr. Atwood," Hetty said gently. "But they are safe for now."

"As long as they're with Guidry they'll never be safe," he snapped.

"They're there to finish what you started, Joe," she replied calmly. "Guidry seems to have taken a liking to Mr. Deeks since he saved his life."

"Tell Deeks not to trust him, Hetty," Joe demanded, looking agitated and angry. "He's a sick bastard that'll turn on him before he knows what hit him..."

"We'll talk later about the mission, Joe," Hetty interrupted. "Right now, I think your wife might like to speak with you alone, and I owe your father a good strong cup of tea."

"Please don't go, Dad," Joe pleaded. "I just need to be with you a little bit longer."

"Ain't going nowhere, son. Don't even like tea."

"Then I'll say my goodbyes for now," Hetty said. "Take as long as you like."

When they were alone, George saw his son sink back into the pillows and Elan's hand tightly gripped his shoulder. He'd been holding himself together in her presence, but now it was just family and he gave into his emotions, exhaustion softening his face.

"Joe? Are you all right?" Diane saw the change and George could see it frightened her.

"No need to hide anything from us, son," George said. "We both know what they did to your partner."

"I can't get it out of my head...," Joe whispered. "I sure as hell can't sleep unless they drug me...all I hear are Oscar's screams. How do I stop thinking about it? And now Marty and Callen are under Guidry's control. I'm scared to death for them, Dad."

"They're both strong men, son," he replied gently, hiding his own fears as best he could. "They'll watch out for each other. You know that. You just have to trust them, son."

"I know, but I just keep dwelling on all the ways he can hurt them," he replied, his voice full of anguish.

"Maybe you should start thinking about something else," Di said softly. "Like baby names."

"What?"

"We're going to have a baby, Joe," she said. "You're going to be a daddy again."

"You're sure?" He asked, his smile wide as his eyes filled with tears.

"Might even be a girl," Di said as she nodded happily.

"Did you hear that Elan?"

"If it's a girl, you're gonna be in big trouble, Cuz," Elan said as he hugged Joe. "She's gonna wrap you around her tiny little finger for sure. I see tea parties and lots of dolls in your future."

"Don't forget ballet lessons," Di offered. "And little pink tutus."

"God that sounds so...normal," Joe sighed. "Chris will be a big brother."

He choked up at that thought and covered his face with his hand. The trial he'd gone through had shaken him to the core and still had a hold on him, but George knew the power of family. Once he got him home to the ranch, he would begin to heal. Now his only worry was for Marty and for Callen.

He might not be a trained federal agent but he read people well, and there was something Hetty wasn't telling them. The mission was far from over and neither was the waiting. Another son might be going through hell, but Hetty wasn't willing to share what that particular hell was at the moment and there was nothing he could do to change that. Waiting for a son to come home was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do other than burying his wife and oldest son. Waiting taught you patience, but he was getting mighty tired of learning that particular lesson. He listened as Joe talked to his wife about due dates and baby things, changing little Chris's room to accommodate the newborn and whether it mattered if it was a girl or a boy, and it eased his mind some. But they all had a long road in front of them if anything happened to Marty. He had to trust that Callen cared for him as much as he thought he did. He had to trust in that bond that had grown between the two of them. He had to trust they loved each as brothers, willing to do whatever it takes to keep each other safe and get them both home.

...

...