Deeks screamed with everything he had in him, but it didn't help. Pain blotted out the world, and he had to get away, he had to, but he couldn't! He couldn't take this, it had to stop. Dear God, please, make it stop!

Recognizing a breaking point, the man torturing Deeks stopped the drill, and stepped back. Sidorov released his head, and Deeks slumped forward, gasping for air. Sidorov stepped around the chair to face Deeks, grabbed a handful of his hair, and yanked his head back so that Deeks was forced to look at him.

'So,' Sidorov asked, 'are you ready to tell me what I wish to know? Or shall I have Mikhail resume his work?'

Deeks glanced over at the silently looming tormentor, feeling fear coil like a serpent around his heart. He knew what they wanted, but how could he betray his friends, betray Sam and Callen and Kensi? It hurt to even think of Kensi, of what she'd think of him, if she knew that he was seriously considering putting a surcease to his pain over their welfare.

Sidorov searched his eyes for a moment, then released him and stepped back. 'Very well,' he said, 'we continue.' He motioned Andros forward, and Deeks panicked. He couldn't take any more. Surely no one could be expected to endure so much?

Deeks made an incoherent sound, and Sidorov held up a hand to halt Andros a moment. Between the damage to his mouth, and the brutal metal device holding it cranked open, Deeks was unable to speak. Knowing this, Sidorov began to ask yes-or-no questions.

He started off easy, with a question he already knew the answer to, 'Is David an agent?' Deeks closed his eyes in anguish, but he nodded. 'Are you his partner?' Deeks nodded again.

Now Sidorov paused, having to brace himself for the answer to the question that truly mattered, 'Is Quinn also an agent?'

Agonized, Deeks held his eyes without moving, knowing that telling him the truth would get Sam's wife killed. 'Is she?!', Sidorov thundered, grasping Deeks around the throat and renewing the firestorm of pain in his face. Deeks cried out, then slowly nodded once more.

Sidorov roared in anguish, and ripped the metal device from Deeks' mouth, breaking teeth in the process. Deeks writhed in his bonds, lost to screaming pain once more.

When Deeks came back to himself enough to perceive his surroundings, he was forced to face a new torment. Sidorov and his henchman were gone, but he could hear Sam now, who was yelling at the top of his lungs. He wasn't being tortured, he was in a raging fury, cursing Deeks to everlasting hell for giving up his wife.

Deeks cringed, guilt and shame overwhelming him. He'd cracked, he'd broken, he'd betrayed the people he was closest to, and he'd betrayed himself. He wished miserably that Sam would free himself, and get in here and kill him already.

Then a new thought occurred, one that froze him to the core. Kensi, Kensi was Michelle's backup. Whatever went down, she would be at the heart of it. His imagination immediately offered up a nightmare scenario.

...

Sidorov had Michelle by the throat, her body shielding his, while Kensi leveled her gun at them both and demanded his surrender. She was surrounded though, the guns of the other forewarned criminals pointed at her.

Sidorov held up a device, a trigger mechanism for the bomb that he was about to sell, and said, 'You really don't want to shoot me, my dear.'

Callen stepped out of cover behind Sidorov, and held a gun to his head. 'How about I shoot you, then?'

Hetty emerged on Sidorov's other side, pointing a gun just as calmly, 'Or would you like me to do the honors?'

There was a controlled rush in the background, as the Red team came up behind the other men. For a moment, it looked as though they'd won, but Sidorov had reached his breaking point. Maddened by Quinn's betrayal, he was not a man who was capable of reason.

Sidorov swung Michelle to the right, throwing her into Callen. He fired into both of them, and they went down. Kensi shot at Sidorov, even at she herself was shot by one of the men behind her. A storm of bullets raged briefly in the background, but Deeks was concerned only with Kensi.

She lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound high in her abdomen. She still had her gun pointed at Sidorov, who lay mere feet away, a growing stain spreading over his own chest. He laughed insanely at the sky, and she shot him again, but it was too late. He pushed the button.

Deeks' mind screamed denial as everything vanished in an actinic glare. They were gone, all of them, obliterated. She was obliterated...

...

Deeks sat bolt upright, panic strangling him. He felt a cold sweat break out all over his body, and knowing what came next, he lunged from the bed. He barely made it to the toilet before his body attempted to expel all the pain, fear, and self-loathing through his mouth. He hadn't broken, he'd held strong, but someone really needed to tell his subconscious.

Kensi sat up in bed, her heart aching at the sounds of misery coming from the bathroom. The nightmares were getting worse. During the day, unless you knew him really well, he appeared to be his old self, cocky and quick-witted. But she could see the signs of stress, the fatigue, the brittleness. He'd recovered physically from the ordeal he'd gone through, but hadn't been cleared to return to work. He was going to therapy, but as far as she could see, it wasn't working.

She knew the routine. Next, he'd claim to need air, get Monty, and go for a run. Then he'd watch DVDs to while away the remaining hours until dawn, when he could go and lose himself in the Zen of surfing. She wanted so badly to help him, but she didn't know how, and that was robbing her of her own sleep.

Deeks emerged slowly from the bathroom, moving like everything hurt. Instead of making his usual quick and embarrassed escape though, he moved to the side of the bed, then just stood there with his head hung low. Kensi pushed back the sheet, swung her legs over the side, and sat facing him.

She reached out to touch his waist, and he fell to his knees before her. She opened her legs to give him better access, and he scooted forward, grasped her tightly around the waist, and laid his head on her breasts. She inhaled sharply; this was the first time he'd shown any vulnerability. She cradled that shaggy and beloved head in her arms, and dared to feel hope.

Every muscle of his body was clenched tight, so much so that he was shaking. He spoke in a choked voice, 'God, Kens. I thought I'd lost you...' A huge tide of emotion welled up in him, causing his throat to close, his lungs to lock. All he could do was kneel there, gripping her like a lifeline.

Kensi couldn't feel him breathing, and began to be scared. Then, he heaved a great breath, and the sobs broke free. She held him tight, rocking slightly in an attempt to comfort, as he came apart in her arms. Her own tears fell upon his hair, but even as her heart broke for him, a part of her rejoiced. He'd turned to her, he'd trusted her with this, and it was an amazing feeling.

When the storm had run its course, she tugged him up to lie beside her on the bed. He continued to cling, wrapped around her like he couldn't get close enough. But exhaustion quickly claimed him, and he fell into a deep sleep, truly relaxed for the first time in months. Kensi kissed his brow, and just lay there holding him, treasuring him. Now, she hoped with all her heart, now perhaps he could heal.