Rating: PG13

Characters: Marty (main), G, Sam, Kensi, Hetty, Eric, Nell, original baddies.

Warnings: Violence, abduction, abuse, SEXUAL ABUSE (implied), a/u, character transformation, friendship, hurt/comfort.

Notes: This story is more character driven than case driven. I've been picking away at this one for a while and it's basically a guilty pleasure (isn't all fanfic?). I make no apologies, but I do appreciate helpful criticism or, really, any comments at all. I hope you enjoy.

Summary:

When they grabbed him he was already in his apartment, it was late, and he'd had a few beers. "What do you want?" he asked the gunman quietly.

"We have orders to relocate you," the guy shrugged.

He never imagined it would lead to this:

"It's the real deal," Klaus said smugly, his proprietary hand back on his hip. "I will accept no less than eight million for him." Marty knew in that moment that nothing would ever again be the same.

…

Should My Eyes Deceive Me

…

It begins…

…

Marty has spent his entire life understanding exactly why he is different, exactly what that means, and exactly why he could never tell anyone. One of the few things his parents had taught him was that the possibility of exposure existed and he needed to be careful. He'd never truly expected it to happen.

That might have been why he was completely out of his depth with it finally did.

….

When they grabbed him he was already in his apartment, it was late, and he'd had a few beers before heading home.

Stripping off his shirt on his way to the bathroom he didn't bother turning on any lights, didn't bother turning on the radio or TV, and basically did anything he could to try and avoid the fact that it was Christmas and, other than Hetty's most excellent after work party he had pretty much no plans to celebrate, no family to celebrate with, and no friends who weren't in protective custody that he felt comfortable butting in on. He was okay with this, he had reasons for not getting too close to people, very important reasons, but he could admit to himself it still sucked. Plus he wouldn't have minded tagging along on Kensi's little Hawaiian trip, the water was incredible there and he rarely turned down the opportunity to swim in a beautiful place, even if it was only to surf. But hey, he could take a hint and a not so subtle brush off. It was cool; maybe he'd convince her to let him tag along next time.

Still, he may have been broodier than normal, which was why he wasn't as focused on his surroundings as he should have been (Sam and G were going to have some pointed words for him later). Finishing up in the bathroom he was just on his way to see what he had in his fridge when they made their move, lunging out of the dark and grabbing him from behind, or at least trying to. He heard the movement a moment before he felt an arm trying to wrap around his neck and instinct had him twisting back and throwing out a wild backhand. He connected with what felt like a neck, the startled gasp of a man filling the apartment.

Before he could take further action a thick set of arms wrapped around him from behind and tightened over his chest like a vice. This attacker was clearly larger, lifting his feet slightly off the ground so he had no leverage. In retaliation Deeks planted his feet on the kitchen counter and pushed, hard. The guy holding him tumbled backwards with a curse, loosing his balance but unfortunately not his grip and they both went crashing heavily to the ground. The side of Deeks's face somehow managed to graze the kitchen table on the way down, the sharp pain nearly disorienting him, but he lunged up and threw his elbow into the body beneath him, hearing the satisfying crack of ribs and breathless gasp of pain. He did it again and then rolled off, crashing into the armchair and sending it tipping over. He hadn't realized he'd shoved hard enough to carry them into his living room.

"Shit," he heard a curse from his left and moved away from its source. He had a back up weapon in the bedroom and his main piece in his safe, which was also in his bedroom. Neither weapon was easy to access right now. He didn't believe in drinking and carrying a loaded firearm, but if this was going to be the result he might have to reconsider that rule, or stop drinking. No matter, he just had to get to the other side of the room and he'd be at the front door. Hell, he should just open his mouth and start yelling, maybe get his neighbours attention so they could call the cavalry.

He went to do just that when the TV clicked on, loudly. The glow cast about the room, flashy and fast as some monster truck rally screamed in the background. Deeks flinched at the unexpected intrusion but took the opportunity to look around and assess his next move. Screaming was still an option.

He froze when the man standing by the TV aimed a gun very pointedly at him, the muzzle appearing twice as long due to the silencer attached to its end.

"That's enough," the guy warned, just loud enough for Deeks to hear over the roaring engines on screen. Judging by the way the weapon was held and the fact that it looked like it was on target with Deeks' chest and unlikely to move, Deeks was forced to admit defeat. He swallowed back the growing fear, hid his uncertainty, and tried to catch his breath as he perched on his knees in the space between his coffee table and couch. "Hands on your head, slowly," the man ordered and Deeks complied, keeping his eye on the man with the weapon instead of the one groaning on the floor a few feet away. "Get up Darris, we don't have all night. Mike, would you get in here and cuff him," he sounded impatient and Marty had to force himself not to attack as 'Mike' came from the kitchen, his breath wheezing, and forced his arms down behind his back and secured him roughly.

A pounding on the wall caused them all to tense up.

"Marty, turn that thing down already!" his neighbour yelled, or more like muffled through the wall, and the man with the gun complied after a second. He looked at Deeks expectantly, waving his gun a little for emphasis. Deeks, cuffed and on his knees with three obviously violent men surrounding him, was not an idiot.

"Sorry man, won't happen again," he yelled back loudly. The walls were thick but his apology would be heard and at least these guys wouldn't go over there and shoot him to keep him quiet. "What do you want?" he asked the gunman quietly, his one eye starting to swell and his headache making it difficult to focus in the dim light.

"We have orders to relocate you," the guy shrugged, looking like he didn't really give a shit so long as he got paid. Deeks probably should have expected the chloroform, but he bucked when the rag soaked in it was clapped over his nose and mouth. An arm wrapped around his neck, holding him warningly in place, the last thing he saw was the gun lowering before everything went fuzzy black to bright white and then became nothing at all.