Of Things Broken


Hearing came back first in a wash of noise that made his pounding headache worse. The scent of his own blood made his stomach roll. He blinked, trying to make sense of the fuzzy white and red blob in front of his face. His eyes refused to focus, so he gave up, letting them drift back closed.

"Deeks?" Kensi said sharply. "Can you hear me?"

Tension sang through his body as he jerked awake again, struggling to get away from her. Kensi dropped the phone and pressed her free hand against his shoulder, trying to hold him still. His eyes were bright and wide with panic.

"Hey, hey," she called softly. "Deeks. It's okay. I've got you."

His struggles weakened as the movement exhausted him. The ribs under her hand heaved as he fought for breath. She touched his cheek, sweeping the hair back from his face. Her fingertips brushed his neck. His pulse beat wildly against her hand.

His brain finally put the pieces together, mashing them into place with exhausted logic. Gotta warn her… he though fuzzily. Not safe.

"You shouldn't be here," he rasped in a way that brought her heart into her throat with worry. Shivers raced through his body. His eyes drifted closed, sandy eyelashes looking very dark against his parchment-pale skin.

She reached down and grabbed the blankets, dragging them over his body, hoping that it would help. The first aid classes all agents had to take seemed to be so far away now. "What happened?"

He didn't seem to hear the question. "Not safe. Go, now. They want to kill you." His teeth chattered as shock kicked in hard and fast.

"You're confused." She forced her cramping fingers to stay tight around his wrist. "It's safe. No-one is trying to kill us."

Heavy steps on the floor outside almost made her take that back. She closed her hand around her gun, ignoring the tacky, drying blood on her skin.

"Kensi?" Callen called. He pitched his voice low, but the concern shone through. "Where are you?"

She shuddered in relief and dropped her fingers from the Sig. "In the bedroom!"

Seconds later, Callen burst into the room. He looked pale, but composed. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the bed. It passed as he picked his way through the bedroom towards them. "How is he?"

She half turned so that she could look at him, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "Alive. He came to for a couple of minutes, but I think it exhausted him. Looks like he's lost quite a bit of blood."

"What happened?" Callen squeezed her shoulder on his way to the other side of the bed. "There's an ambulance on the way."

The bed creaked as he leaned over it to press his fingers to Deeks' throat. The blonde man blinked slowly, eyes unfocused.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I came over as usual, and found his door open. Did a sweep when I saw that the place had been trashed, and found him here like this." She blinked hard. "Do you think he tried to…" Her voice caught, and she looked away until she had the emotion firmly back under control.

"I guess we'll have to ask him," Callen wrapped his fingers around hers. "Let me take a turn. I can see your hand cramping from here."

She loosened her grip, letting him apply pressure to Deeks' wrist. Blood marked all of them in rusty streaks. The blonde man groaned as the pressure changed. She smoothed her fingers over his cheek, a small, mute comfort.

Sirens tore through the air outside. She stood without looking at Callen. "I'll go and let them in."

He reached over and touched her arm. "Sam's downstairs. He'll bring them up. You need to stay here."

Mutely, she nodded and dropped back onto the bed, pressing the flat of her hand against Deek's shoulder. The overhead light brought out pale smudges where bruises had faded away to almost nothing. She laid her hand over the biggest of them and prayed that he'd live to get many more.

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