AN: I know, it's been a while. A long kind of while. Apparently, Texas doesn't produce a conducive writing environment.

A special shout out to Katy (she knows why), and another to Nelly ( gloriouspegasus), and everyone else who has sent me messages, tweets, PMs asking about my writing, encouraging me, or simply wanting to make sure I was still breathing.

This story sort of came out of nowhere. There's a little bitty bit of a plot, but there's no real reason for it. Just for it to be read, I suppose...

Warnings: for language, and Really Bad Guys, doing really bad things, in a really depressing way.

The car smells like chalk. More specifically, they smell like chalk. Their clothes are covered in dirt and grit, the product of frolicking through drywall and plaster. Deeks rubs his hand along his pant leg, feeling the fine residue cake beneath his sweaty palm. It reminds him of being a kid, of shortened nail beds scraping on chalk sticks as he outlined stick figures on the sidewalk, of holding his breath as he beat two blackboard erasers together.

The smell is making his already bad headache worse.

They're driving back to the city, he and Kensi in one car, Sam and Callen in another. They had spent the last few days traveling up and down the coast, racing from Sacramento towards Mexico and back, a large-scale game of Hide N' Seek with a couple of hired mercenaries who had thought a large duplex currently in the midst of being renovated was a good hiding spot.

But the bad guys have been caught, and it's time to go home. And instead of flying back, someone had thought it'd be a great idea to drive the five hours to the city. Unfortunately, that same someone hadn't taken into account the big ass storm that's been brewing off the Pacific for the last twelve hours, the same storm that's currently stomping its way between Where-They-Are and Where-They-Need-To-Be.

Deeks watches as the lightening illuminates the clouds in the distance, each burst of light striking at random intervals, each going in a different direction. He closes his eyes and listens for the thunder, quietly counting the seconds between the flash and the crash. He didn't need to hear the weatherman say that the storm was gonna be a doozey to know it was going to be bad. He had known it from the moment he had seen the massive clouds building off the coast, stacking higher and higher as the day dragged on.

He doesn't know when Kensi had turned off the radio, but he's grateful nonetheless. The pounding in his head had started a few hours before, a small but steady throb behind his right eye. Now, the throb has expanded, having made its way from the eye socket to the back of his neck, leaving a trail in its wake.

"There's Midol in my bag." Kensi's soft voice catches him off guard. And leaves him a little confused.

"There's a coupon for Carl's Jr. in mine." His tone makes it clear that he finds her random comment…well, random.

She sighs heavily before reaching into the backseat to pull her bag towards her. Deeks cringes as she once again shows complete disregard for vehicular safety, her eyes spending more time in the backseat than on the road.

"I'll get it," he says after the car swerves too close to the dotted line too many times. Kensi simply gives him an irked glance, one eyebrow cocked in annoyance as she places both hands back on the wheel.

"Side pocket," she tells him once he has the bag in his lap. Deeks lets his own eyebrow show his irritation as he looks at the numerous side pockets adorning the bag.

"Care to be a little more specific?" he asks sarcastically, his hands patting each pocket. "Found it," he says quickly, stopping any comment his partner may or may not have been about to make. He pulls open the zipper, smirking at the chaos inside.

Kensi is easily classified as being disorganized. Even her attempts at organization are an exercise in disorder. This side pocket in particular contains an empty candy wrapper, a handful of ponytail holders, a cracked hand mirror, a wrinkled dollar bill, and of course, one bottle of Midol.

"How many do you want?" He opens the bottle, holding it at an angle, waiting to pour the desired number of capsules into his partner's hand.

"They're not for me," she tells him, her eyes never leaving the road, "They're for you."

Deeks blinks slowly, the bottle still held in his hand. He feels both eyebrows rise in question. "Kens, I know I've been cranky today, but I can promise it's not PMS."

He watches as Kensi rolls her eyes, her head tilting to give Deeks an irritated look. "Your headache, Smartass." When Deeks continues to stare at her in baffled confusion, she gestures to the bottle with her elbow. "They work on headaches, too."

Deeks studies the bottle in his hand, his eyes occasionally glancing towards Kensi in suspicion.

"You're not gonna grow an ovary. Just take the damn things already."

And he does, popping four in his mouth, washing them down with what's left of a cup of coffee that's been resting in the cup holder since that morning.

Returning Kensi's bag to the back of the car, Deeks lets himself slide down in his seat, perfecting the full-on Slump pose, stopping only once his knees meet the dashboard. His head rolls on the back of the seat, his eyes finding his partner as he waits for the Midol to work its magic.

She looks a mess, but in a decidedly beautiful kind of way. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, the occasional strand having worked its way free to fall where it pleases. There are white smudges of dust all over, streaking through her hair, on her cheek, the entire length of her right arm.

Deeks looks down at his own clothes once again, his personal collection of dust. "I need a shower."

He hears Kensi give a soft snort of laughter. "We all need a shower," she tells him, "and a nap that lasts for two days."

Deeks smiles and closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can agree with that."

They ride in silence for a few more miles, the occasional burst of wind threatening to push the car off the road, followed by a loud howl now and again. The lightening appears to get worse the farther they drive, and Deeks can see Kensi eyeing the clouds with a considerable amount of distrust.

The sound of Kensi's phone chiming causes them both to jump, effectively ending the trance-like atmosphere created by the roar of the tires on the road.

"Yeah?" Deeks smirks at Kensi's way of greeting, his eyes finding their way back to the clouds as he listens to Kensi's side of the conversation.

It's short and to the point, a quick "Alright" shortly followed by "We're right behind you" before Kensi's tossing the phone into the cup holder.

"Good news?" he asks, his fingers rising to massage his temple. He can already feel the medicine starting to work, even if just barely.

Kensi sighs heavily, leans forward to look at the sky with squinted eyes. "Callen and Sam want to pull over for the night, wait out the storm."

"We're only a few hours out," Deeks says, torn between the immediacy of having any bed and the comfort of having his own. "Can't we just drive through it?"

She's already shaking her head as she switches lanes, following the rented SUV in front of them towards the exit lane. "Eric and Nell have been keeping track of the storm." She tightens her grip on the steering wheel as another gust of wind hits the car. "It's worse than they thought it would be. 'S already washed out a few roads."

As if to prove her point, a particularly intense bolt of lightening stretches across the sky, followed almost immediately by a thunderous boom. Deeks concedes defeat. "So, Motel 6 it is, then."

Except, Motel 6 it ain't. The exit they take leads to a relatively small town. Bigger than your average Hicksville, but small enough to seriously limit one's choice in temporary residence.

"The Seagull Inn." Kensi reads the name of the small motel, the wooden sign swinging dangerously in the building winds. "Looks…homey?"

"Not the word I would use," Sam says, turning back to look down the town's main road, his eyes desperately searching for another Vacancy sign.

"I think she meant 'homely', Sam," Deeks offers, leaning against the bumper of the SUV. Sam and Kensi each offer a small smile, each looking away before Deeks can see.

"I'm gonna see what's taking so long." Sam doesn't wait for a response, he simply heads to the motel's small office, the same one Callen had disappeared into only a few minutes before.

Deeks turns so his elbows are resting on the hood of the car. He props his head on his hands, letting his palms dig into his eyes.

"How's your headache?" Kensi asks. Deeks feels the car shift slightly as she leans her weight against it, her arm brushing his.

"Better, but still there," he answers honestly. He gives his eyes one more good rub before turning to investigate their new home for the next eight or so hours. It's one of those questionable roadside motels, the kind that looks as though it's two harsh blows from being knocked down, something that's dangerously possible considering the storm that's steadily approaching.

Deeks highly doubts The Seagull Inn sees a great deal of business, at least not of the wholesome-family-just-passing-through variety.

"How much you want to bet they rent by the hour?" Deeks smiles as he turns to his partner, waiting for the expected eye roll. And it's there, followed by a crooked smile she fails to hide, and a slight punch to the shoulder.

There are only twelve rooms that Deeks can see, probably another dozen or so on the other side, each door painted a dull, dark blue. Despite his initial assumption, the Seagull's parking lot is relatively full. Aside from their two SUVs, there are a few more cars spattered about, along with two large, very dirty, passenger vans in the corner of the lot. Beneath the dust, Deeks can barely make out what looks to be a faded logo for a church, the image of Jesus plastered on the side, the paint peeling to the point that half of the savior's face is missing.

"You two are gonna be bunking together." Callen's voice carries through the wind, causing both Deeks and Kensi to turn. He holds up a single key before tossing it in their direction. Deeks catches it with no problem, frowning when he notices the lack of a keychain. Someone had written the number '12' on the broad part of the key in permanent marker.

Deciding to keep his comments to himself, Deeks silently contemplates sleeping in the car as Kensi none-too-gently shoves his bag into his chest. He gives a quick grunt, both out of annoyance and on principle, and then he's following behind the others, rooms 11 and 12 their destination.

Deeks won't lie, he's a little impressed, or maybe it's just relief as he stands in the doorway of the small motel room. There's not a lot of space to move around, the two queen sized beds taking up the majority of the room, but it's actually not that bad.

The room smells clean, a little more on the industrial-strength sanitizer side than he'd care for, but it's better than what he was expecting. The bedspreads look nice and clean, no questionable stains. The carpet even has the tracks from the vacuum cleaner. So, Motel 6 it ain't, but it'll do.

Kensi tosses her small bag on the bed farthest from the door before reaching for the room key. "I'm gonna head next door before the rain gets here, going to try and get something to eat. Want anything?"

Deeks shakes his head 'no', not finding the thought of gas station cuisine appealing, especially with the way his head feels.

"Suit yourself," she calls over her shoulder before pulling the door closed behind her. Deeks stretches his arms over his head, popping his neck a few times before staring at his bag. Now that a bed is within eyesight, all he wants to do is face plant into the pillow and take that two-day nap Kensi was talking about.

But one look at the shirt he's wearing, and he knows that a shower has been upgraded from 'possibility' to 'necessity'. He sets his gun, badge, wallet, and phone on the shared nightstand between the two beds, and frowns as he reaches for the worn duffle bag.

Deeks likes to be prepared, they all do. It kind of sucks on a grand scale to be caught off guard. But to be honest, they don't really spend the night a lot of places. Yeah, they have a bag ready for when they have to leave on short notice—two, in fact. One, for long distance trips that will more than likely take several days. The other is more of a just-in-case kind of thing.

Like the one he's looking at now. It's got an extra pair of jeans, some dry socks and underwear, and a shirt or two. There's half a stick of deodorant, a small first-aid kit, and of course, a coupon for a free burger from Carl's Jr. with the purchase of any large drink and side of fries.

Nowhere in the stupid bag is there anything to sleep in.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem. He'd just slip on the boxers and call it a day. But he's with Kensi, and that whole Justin and Melissa thing…well, Kensi had made it clear that Deeks was to wear pajama bottoms to bed.

But…

They aren't sharing a bed this time around. And he's really too tired to care. A clean shirt, boxers, and deodorant in hand, Deeks makes his way to the bathroom to claim first dibs on the hot water.

There are many reasons Deeks loves his partner. The big one being that she 'gets' him, knows him better than he'd like at times. Like now.

He emerges from the bathroom, boxers clinging to still damp skin as he wrestles a clean shirt over his head, and there, sitting at the room's small table is Kensi. She's still covered in dust from head to toe, her hands noticeably clean as though she had washed them at the store. She's munching on a slice of pizza, the small personal box resting before her declaring it to be 'The Best Hunk of Pizza'. The way she's devouring the large slice suggests the slogan might be right.

Deeks can tell she's trying to keep her expression neutral, trying not to get that smug 'I was right' look on her face as he slowly approaches the table and the second pizza box resting before the table's only other chair.

"Figured you'd be hungry," she says, picking off a piece of sausage with her fingers before putting it in her mouth. "That and you shouldn't take medicine on an empty stomach."

Deeks smiles, gratefully accepting the bottle of blue Gatorade she pushes towards him before opening the small box of pizza. He had been able to smell it the moment he opened the bathroom door, that sinful aroma that can only be associated with trans fats and grease. He hadn't actually realized how hungry he was until then.

Kensi had known he'd have wanted a piece of pizza, whether he did or not. It's times like these that he really appreciates the woman sitting across from him.

"D'you save me any hot water?" she asks in between bites.

Deeks nods, his mouth too full to really speak without offending anyone, even the Mistress of Table Manners sitting before him. "Plenty," he says after a quick swig of Gatorade. Between the Midol, the shower, and the fact that he now has food in his stomach, his headache is finally letting up, hinting at the promise of a decent night's sleep.

Kensi finishes eating first, rising from the table to get ready for her shower. She digs through a plastic bag, pulling out a small bottle of shampoo, the price tag plastered over the off-brand logo.

"You know, this place has those little complimentary bottles." Deeks holds up his hand, finger and thumb inches apart, signifying the approximate size of the small bottle of shampoo. "I even saved you some."

Kensi smiles, her own finger pointing at her head. "Enough to get this clean?"

Deeks turns down the corners of his mouth in mock consideration. "Probably not."

Her smile widens as she tugs on the zipper of her duffle. Deeks takes another bite of pizza, watching as his partner's smile slowly morphs, her lips pulling to the side in a contemplative kind of pout.

"Problem there, Princess?" Deeks knows she likes to be prepared, even more than he does. He had once joked that she'd kick any Girl Scout's ass, but like the rest of them, she hadn't known this was going to be an overnight kind of gig.

Kensi being Kensi, seems to know that he's already figured out her dilemma. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of pajama bottoms would you? Basketball shorts? Anything?"

Licking a spot of pizza sauce from his finger, Deeks leans forward in his chair, elbows propped on the table as he tries not to cross the line between playful and creepy. "I've got an extra pair of boxers. They're kind of like shorts."

"I am not wearing your underwear." Kensi lets her voice be stern, her face turn serious at the idea.

"They're clean," Deeks points out, already knowing she'll never go for it, but having to push those metaphorical buttons anyway. Continuing to sport the are-you-kidding-me glare, Kensi rounds the foot of the bed and pulls Deeks' bag towards her, catching Deeks more than a little off guard.

It's exactly four seconds before he realizes she hadn't changed her mind about his boxers. She reaches in his bag and pulls out a wrinkled, dark grey shirt, the smell of fabric softener mixing with pizza as she pops it in the air, checking it for decency.

Kensi narrows her eyes, silently challenging Deeks to say anything. To his credit, he keeps his mouth shut. But then he doesn't really need to say anything for her to know what he's thinking. The look on his face says it all.

While he'd be lying if he said the thought of Kensi prancing about in nothing more than her underwear and one of her tight-fitted, long sleeved tees didn't cause him to feel a bit of excitement, the idea that she'll be sleeping in a shirt of his… well, there's definitely some excitement there.

Before he can delve into exactly why it's best to stray away from that particular line of thinking, the bottom chooses to fall out of the sky. The sound of rain pounding on the roof suddenly takes over the small room, the wind echoing behind.

Deeks stands, pizza crust gracefully hanging out of the side of his mouth as he uses a finger to pull back the heavy, blue curtain. Fat raindrops ping against the window, one right after another, a constant barrage obscuring the view of the parking lot.

"Not gonna lie, I'm glad we're not driving in this," Deeks says, the crust bobbing between his lips like a deformed cigar. He turns to find he's speaking to an empty room, the bathroom door closing with only a small click.

"You're welcome for the shirt!" He tosses the remainder of the crust into Kensi's abandoned pizza box, instantly regretting the playful yell as it sends a small jolt of pain through his head, reminding him of his earlier headache.

Looking around the room, Deeks breathes in a deep breath, holding it for a long second before releasing it in a rush. Hands on hips, he chews his bottom lip, feeling the fatigue from the last two days settle in.

He turns the room's A/C on high and clicks off the light, fingers rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he walks blindly to the closest bed. As soon as his knees hit the mattress, he face plants, arms immediately circling the pillow as his foot kicks for the bag, knocking it to the floor.

He listens to the rain and wind, the whine of the A/C, the muffled voices coming from the room next door. He tries not to think about why his pillow smells like Pinesol as he eases into that lazy stage that comes right before sleep, the one that makes it hard to even focus on a single thought for long.

It isn't long before Kensi's coming out of the bathroom, her fingers pulling down the hem of the borrowed shirt, trying her best to hide as much as she can. Deeks doesn't say a word, deciding it best to play the gentleman. At least, for now.

The mattress springs squeak as Kensi gets beneath her covers, an occasional sigh slipping out as she tries to get comfortable. Within moments, she settles down, the blankets pulled up to her chin. Deeks gives a tired smile, and closes his eyes, expecting sleep to take over instantly.

Only, it doesn't. He had learned how to sleep with distractions early in life. Yet, despite the extreme exhaustion he feels, he can't help focusing in on the muffled voices coming from the next room. They're drowned out, not only by the wall, but also the storm and A/C, sounding very similar to the teacher on the old Peanuts cartoons.

"Can you tell what they're saying?" Kensi whispers as though the noisy occupants might hear.

Deeks looks to the other bed, the little light peeking through the room's curtain highlighting Kensi's dark eyes, making them stand out.

"Not really. You?"

Kensi shakes her head as she glances at the wall. They listen for another minute before Kensi turns over, props herself up on an elbow, and bangs her fist against the wall.

The voices stop immediately, and Deeks can see Kensi's triumphant grin even in the low light.

"If they start up again, I say we switch rooms with Sam and Callen," Deeks says, once again burying his face in his pillow.

"Sounds great," Kensi tells him with mock enthusiasm. "And you can be the one to convince Sam of that plan."

Deeks takes a moment to imagine the look on Sam's face before giving a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah, that plan might be a little on the idiotic side."

"Says the idiot who came up with said plan." The words might be harsh, but Deeks can still hear the playfulness in her tone, dulling any real bite that might have been there.

Squinting his eyes to better see her reaction, Deeks tries for innocence. "Then, how about this plan?" He hasn't even voiced it yet, and already he can see her face contort in suspicion. "They start it up again, we can make some noise of own."

Kensi doesn't even miss a beat. "Sure."

"Seriously?" Deeks lifts his head off the pillow, his face a picture of confusion.

"Yeah," Kensi answers, folding her hands behind her head. "Me kicking your ass would probably make a bit of noise."

Deeks lets his frown shift into a smile. "See, now that doesn't even sound a little bit kinky. You're losing your touch, Blye."

"It's late and I'm tired. Go to sleep, Deeks before Sam and Callen start banging on our wall."

Deeks laughs, but does as he's told, shutting up and burying himself deeper into the covers. A flash of lightening, another boom of thunder, and a thought pops into his head.

"Kens?" he asks quietly.

"What?" she whispers back.

"Don't tell the guys I took Midol." It's a statement, but one that holds a touch of pleading. Kensi's quiet laugh is his only answer as the storm rages, eventually lulling them both to sleep.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

It's the feel of something crawling across his back that wakes him. Or maybe it's the stifling heat. Either way, it's not the way Deeks had planned on being woken up. And judging by the pitch-blackness that he finds when he opens his eyes, it's much earlier than he had planned, as well.

He swings his arm, swiping at whatever's making its way down his back. That brief moment of panic subsides when he realizes it's only sweat. He can feel it in the bend of his knees, the nape of his neck.

The room is quiet. Silent, really. Only Kensi's occasional snore can be heard, and even in his sleep-hazed state, Deeks knows that it's all wrong.

The A/C is off, the lights on the dials completely dim. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand shows the same thing, the numbers dark. Deeks grabs his phone, the screen lighting up to cast a somewhat eerie glow about the room. He walks to the window, pulling back the curtain to see that the parking lot is also shrouded in complete darkness.

The storm is gone, having passed through sometime while Deeks was sleeping. Obviously, it decided to knock out the power on its way. Deeks turns to head to the bathroom, the phone light passing over his partner as he makes his way around the room.

She's lying on her stomach, face squished against the pillow, her still damp hair splayed about in a way that can only happen in sleep. She has the blankets kicked to the foot of the bed, one leg stretched, toes pointed as the other bends at an awkward angle. The borrowed shirt had managed to ride up higher than it should, revealing all she had tried to hide earlier and then some.

Deeks quickly looks away, reminding himself to be a gentleman as he ignores the way his heart rate jumps. The bathroom's mirror catches the light from his phone, reflecting back to his dark-adjusted eyes. He squints, and lowers the phone, only to curse when he trips over his dirty clothes lying in a pile by the toilet. He stumbles a step, ramming his knee into the side of the opened door.

Biting his lip, brow furrowing in anger and pain, Deeks sets his phone on the tiled counter. One hand busy rubbing the sting out of his knee, he uses the other to turn on the faucet. He wets his fingers, cupping his hand to capture the water as he leans his head over the sink.

He splashes a handful on the back of his neck, letting the cool water distract him from the sticky feeling covering his body. The heat has taken over the room, creating its own little bubble of humidity.

He runs his wet hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of the coldness on his scalp. He turns off the water, and reaches for his phone when he hears Kensi whisper his name. It's not a questioning kind of whisper, not one that's asking why he's up at whatever o'clock. No, it's one of those urgent kinds of whispers, the kind that demands his attention and sets the hairs on his arm to attention.

He takes a few steps back, his head peeking through the opened door. He shines his phone into the room, towards the direction he had last seen his partner. It's safe to say he's more than a little surprised to find Kensi kneeling on the edge of her bed. She's got that whole beautiful mess thing going on again, crazy, sweat-dampened waves framing her face. But what really has him surprised is the gun resting on her exposed thigh, her attention focused on the wall behind the bed's headboard.

"Kens…" he begins to ask, only to be stopped when she turns to him, her lips pursing in a 'shh' gesture. Deeks walks fully into the room, his phone still casting light. And then he hears it, the muffled voices, only this time a little clearer now that the other distractions have been silenced.

Deeks closes his eyes, shutting off one sense to heighten another as he focuses on the deep baritone trying to break through the wall. He frowns as it becomes clear that whatever language the man is speaking, English isn't it.

And neither is Spanish, or Japanese, or French, or any other language Deeks has basic knowledge in.

He opens his eyes, looking to ask Kensi whether or not she recognizes it. But she's no longer on the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, not bothering to whisper. Kensi jerks her head up, her lips once again forming the shh pose.

"Shine the light over here," she says quietly, gun-free hand gesturing to the floor at the foot of her bed. Deeks walks to her, holding the phone over her bag as she grabs a pair of jeans.

"What are they saying?" He whispers this time around. It's clear from her actions that she knows what's being said, and apparently plans to go confront them.

He watches as she slips one leg into dark denim, then another. He's still waiting for an answer when a loud cry comes through the wall, followed by a heavy thud, the impact causing the framed painting hanging over the bed to shake and tilt.

Kensi doesn't even wait long enough to buckle her pants. She grabs her gun and runs out the door, leaving a very confused Deeks alone in the dark, phone still in hand.

He blinks once before jumping on the bed, the phone abandoned as he reaches for the gun resting on the nightstand.

"Dammit, Kensi," he mutters through clenched teeth as he follows her through the open motel room door.

Two steps outside and he realizes he's still in his boxers, completely barefoot, and beyond clueless as to what's going on.

Kensi's standing outside room 13, her gun held slightly behind her, the fabric from the oversized shirt concealing it from view. She's got her head close to the door, obviously trying to eavesdrop.

"Feel like cluing me in here, Partner?" Deeks hisses, keeping his voice low, but letting his anger through. He might not be an agent, but he's pretty certain protocol dictates you let your partner in on whatever the hell's going on.

"They were talking about getting rid of the damaged merchandise." Kensi takes a step closer to the door. The little moonlight available lets Deeks see the way her jaw tenses, that muscle bouncing in her neck the way it does when she's either really pissed or trying not to laugh.

"What kind of merchandise?"

Kensi turns, her eyes wide as they meet his. "The human kind."

Deeks simply stares, his mind desperately wanting her to have heard wrong. "Are you su—"

"Yes, I'm sure," she snaps, those wide eyes narrowing momentarily before closing. She takes a deep breath, calms her nerves before continuing. "They're speaking Portuguese. Deeks, you have to trust me. I know what I heard."

"I'm getting Sam and Callen," Deeks says, both already knowing he trusts her, that there's no need for her to ask. He takes a step back, watching as Kensi gives him a short nod. He's barely taken three steps before the door in front of Kensi bursts open, a heavy set man with thick eyebrows and a receding hairline steps out.

Deeks isn't sure who looks more surprised—Kensi, Mr. Eyebrows, or the young woman hanging limply in the man's arms.

Kensi raises her gun, Deeks doing the same as the man hesitates, the girl's feet dragging sluggishly. It's obvious, even in the dim light that the girl isn't completely with it mentally.

"Federal Agents," Kensi calls, but isn't given an opportunity to say anything else as Mr. Eyebrows tosses his hostage towards Kensi. Deeks watches as the girl hits the walkway with a heavy thud, Kensi barely managing to stop the girl's skull from connecting with concrete.

"Go!" Kensi yells, one hand resting on the girl's shoulder as the other gestures to the man getting away.

Deeks takes off, bare feet slapping against the wet pavement as he follows the man through the parking lot. He doesn't know why, but Deeks isn't surprised when the man pulls open the back door to one of the white vans, the one with half of Jesus' face missing.

Deeks slides to a stop a few yards from the van. He doesn't even wince as his foot lands on a stray piece of gravel. All of his attention is focused on the opened van door.

Mr. Eyebrows is sitting on his heels on the van's floor, the vehicle's interior light acting as a backdrop, making the man look even more like a dark, hulking figure than he already had. From what Deeks can make out, the man's hands are fisted on his thighs, no sign of a gun anywhere in sight.

"You speak English?" Deeks asks, slowly placing one foot in front of the other.

"You a Fed?" the man asks in return, a smile gradually creeping across his darkened face.

"Close enough." Deeks lets a smile of his own work its way to the surface, preferring it to the nervous look of fear he knows would be there otherwise. But the smile doesn't last long. Not at all.

"Do you know what this is, Agent?" Mr. Eyebrows raises one hand slowly, three fingers dramatically uncurling from around the object held between his thumb and forefinger.

Immediately, Deeks feels his heart rate increase, his breathing speed up despite his best attempts to remain calm.

"Yeah, I got a pretty good idea," Deeks answers honestly, his eyes focused on the grenade.

The man nods his head knowingly, that smile turning cocky. "I thought you would."

Deeks licks his lips. He blinks a few times, and then a few more for good measure as he shifts his feet, mentally preparing to try and convince the crazy man not to blow himself up, especially if he's planning on taking Deeks with him.

But then all Hell breaks loose.

There's a shout from behind, more Portuguese that Deeks doesn't understand, followed by a gunshot. He hears Callen call for Sam, hears a woman scream, and a man cry out. Then there are more gunshots and it takes all of Deeks' willpower not to go back to the rooms.

He's about to order Mr. Eyebrows to put down the grenade, to ask politely if he has to. But the man's cocky grin has shifted, his head tilted, making Deeks think of Jack Nicholson as the Joker when the villain wasn't feeling like a particularly big people person.

"Do you know what I want?" the man asks.

Usually, Deeks would respond, give the guy some witty response, something like "world peace?" or something equally as inappropriate. But not today. His worry for his partner too great to allow him to do anything more than stand there, staring at the man down the barrel of his gun.

"I want you to let me leave," the man answers, seeming to know what's going through Deeks' head. "You're going to let me drive away. No problems, or I let go."

Deeks feels his mouth go dry as the man quickly pulls the pin from the grenade, effectively upgrading the situation from "oh no" to "oh fuck".

There's still chaos going on behind them. The Seagull's other residents having awoken. Deeks can hear sirens in the distance, but again, all his focus is concentrated on the van before him.

"What's it gonna be, Agent?" Mr. Eyebrows asks when Deeks is quiet for too long.

Deeks shifts his feet again, fingers flexing on his raised gun. "I think we both know I can't just let you leave." Deeks risks a step forward. "And I think we both know you don't want to die."

The man doesn't say anything, he simply raises the grenade, scared eyes warning Deeks to stay back.

There's a baby crying somewhere. Deeks can hear Sam ordering people to stay back, to go back to their rooms. He doesn't turn around to look, but Deeks can feel someone coming up behind him, can hear their feet disturbing the puddles of water decorating the parking lot.

"Looks like you're having fun." Callen eases up next to Deeks, his posture identical as he raises his own gun.

"I can think of a thing or two I'd rather be doing," Deeks tells him, actually feeling the urge to smile as Mr. Eyebrows looks at them like they're insane. Ironic, seeing how he's the one with the armed grenade.

Callen nods knowingly, his eyes trained on the man in the van. "Who's your friend?"

"Good question."

"Put down your guns or I let go!" The man shakes his fist, drawing attention to the weapon in his hand. As if they'd forgotten about it.

"Okay, okay." Callen's voice is calming, his eyes narrowed as he slowly spreads his arms apart, his knees bending as he moves to put his gun down.

"Seriously?" Deeks asks, his knees already moving to mirror Callen.

"Seriously," Callen answers.

Mr. Eyebrows looks a little surprised, but he quickly stands, ordering them to back away as he opens the van's driver door. The sirens are louder now, flashing blue and red dancing off the wet cars and pavement.

Deeks doesn't believe in precognition, but he swears he sees it happen before it actually does.

The first police cruiser pulls into the parking lot, the brakes squeaking as the passenger door flies open. The guy looks old enough to know better, a few years under his belt at least. But he does it anyway. A full-blown stereotypical cop move straight out of a bad 80's crime show.

The man pulls his gun, arms propped on the opened door, attention on the quickly panicking man with the grenade.

Mr. Eyebrows raises his hand, Deeks guessing his intention being to warn the cop to back off. But nothing about tonight has gone right. Why start now?

All the cop sees in the shadow of the van is a man waving something dark at him, face threatening. That's all it takes for the man to pull the trigger.

It's not a kill shot. At least, not in the traditional sense. The cop had aimed for the shoulder, his goal to be to disarm the man. It's a good shot, does its job. Too bad it's the worst thing that could happen.

Deeks hears Callen scream "No!" just before he sees the explosion, the sound never really making it to his ears as he's thrown backwards.

Deeks has had his share of hits to the head in his lifetime. Even been part of an explosion or two. But each time is like the first all over again.

There's the ringing in the ears, the complete sense of disorientation as his brain tries to stop vibrating. There's pain, a little numbness, and then panic.

Always the same, but always different.

He's lying on his back, his head turned to the side, watching what's left of the van burn. Then someone's there, kneeling beside him, hands gently slapping his cheek, trying to get his attention.

For some reason, Deeks finds this annoying. He swipes the hand away, squinting his eyes as a wave of dizziness hits him when he turns to see who it is that's bothering him.

"Deeks! Look at me."

And he does. Kensi's leaning over him, her face a picture of worry, her hair falling like a curtain.

"You 'kay?" he slurs, frowning at the sound of his voice.

Kensi's frown of worry turns to one of practiced annoyance. "Am I okay?"

"Mmhmm," Deeks answers, nodding his head very slowly as he tries to sit up, gratefully accepting Kensi's helpful hand.

"I think we need to work on your priorities, Deeks," Kensi jokes, her hand never leaving his shoulder. "I'm not the one who was almost blown up."

"You are my priority," he whispers, missing the look that crosses her face as his attention's too focused on his state of dress.

"I'm still in my underwear," he says, clearly unhappy.

"They're almost like shorts." Kensi echoes his words back at him as she grabs his chin, turning his face towards her so she can see into his eyes. Deeks sees she's managed to find a flashlight, and is none too happy when she tries to shine it on his face.

"Is Mr. Eyebrows dead?" he asks, once again turning to the van.

"Mr. Eyeb—what?" Kensi asks incredulously, that worried look coming back into play.

"You know," Deeks says, hand gesturing to the van as he searches for the word. "The bad guy."

"Yeah," Kensi nods, letting the flashlight rest in her lap. "He's dead."

Deeks nods as well, his hand rising to rub at a sore spot on his chest, brow crinkling as he feels a few cuts and bruises along his knuckles.

Then the panic sets in as he remembers.

"Where's Callen?" he asks, turning his head too quickly to look for the missing agent.

"Callen is fine." The Agent in question answers from his spot behind Deeks. He's sitting Indian style, his elbows resting on his knees, head balanced in his hands.

"Sam?" Deeks questions, heart rate quickly slowing.

"He's helping with the others," Kensi tells him, her voice sounding sad as she says it. Deeks figures he must look confused, because she gestures with the flashlight towards the motel rooms as she continues to explain. "The girl wasn't the only victim."

"Oh," is all Deeks can think to say. Whether because he just had the wind blown out of him, or because the lows of humanity keep surprising him, he isn't sure.

"Lets get you up, find you some pants." Kensi tries to smile as she stands, her hands stretched out for Deeks to take hold, but Deeks can see it's fake, that she's forcing the smirk into place.

Deeks lets her pretend, trying not to groan as his sore body protests the change in elevation. As Kensi helps Callen to his feet, Deeks looks around the hectic parking lot. The windows are blown out of the majority of the cars, the police cruiser's windshield completely shattered.

The two cops are nowhere to be seen, Deeks assuming they're helping Sam with the remaining victims.

"Deeks?" Kensi grabs his elbow, steering him towards their room, away from the burning van. Deeks follows, quickly falling in step with Callen. The motel's other guests have their doors open, a few recording or taking pictures with their phones, others looking scared, confused.

They pass room 13, its door open, a few bullet holes spackled about. The girl Mr. Eyebrows had been dragging lies where Deeks had last seen her. She's completely still, her chest not moving, bubbled spittle drying at the side of her mouth.

"I think she OD'd," Kensi says, following Deeks' line of sight. "She started to seize, and then…"

Deeks clenches his jaw as he looks into the opened door. He's found one of the cops, he's standing near the window, calling for Fire and Rescue through the radio. Sam's kneeling on the floor. His badge out as he tries talking to three children huddled against the wall.

They're completely silent, but their eyes wide, tear tracks marking their way down dirty cheeks.

A quick glance to the bed, the rumpled, blood stained sheets and Deeks feels his stomach turn. He steps away, coughing once before releasing bits of digested pizza onto the sidewalk.

A part of him wants to blame it on the possibility of a concussion. But he knows better. Judging by the reassuring hand on his back, his partner does as well.

"Come on." She waits until he's finished before she begins pushing him towards room 12. Deeks lets himself be led, his eyes following the beam of the flashlight as Kensi lights the way.

He sits on the edge of the bed, accepting the pair of jeans Kensi hands him, but doesn't put them on. Instead, he lays them across his lap, as he cradles his head in his hands. He hears Callen ask if she's got everything under control before leaving, presumably to help Sam.

"Deeks," she begins, sitting down next to him, the mattress creaking as she does so. "Talk to me."

He laughs, the sound closer to a bark than not, completely void of humor. "That was happening right next door."

She rests her hand on his knee, squeezing reassuringly. "We stopped it before it got worse."

He looks up, their closeness the only reason he can see her face. "You really think it could have been worse?"

"You know it could have been," she says immediately. Deeks can't really argue. He tries not to focus on the whole 'what-if' game his mind likes to play, trying not to imagine where those three kids would have ended up had they not stopped at the Seagull Inn.

"Agent Callen said I'm to come check on a Detective Deeks?" A young woman knocks gently against the doorframe, her eyes focusing in on Deeks as she shines her own flashlight towards the pair on the bed.

"I'm fine," he tells her, already waving her off. She smiles shyly, already walking into the room.

"He also said that when you said that, I have permission to knock you upside the head."

Deeks feels himself smile, can sense Kensi doing the same. He knows he'll deal with this like he does everything else, like they all do.

He sits still through the exam, answering the medic's questions, trying not to flinch as lights are shined in his eyes, as fingers probe the tender spot on his scalp.

In the end, he's given the all clear, ordered to take a day of rest, and prescribed a strong drink. He kind of likes this medic.

It's a few hours before everything's sorted out. The kids are taken to the hospital. The fire is put out, the news crews lining the street as more cops hold them back.

There's a phone call to Hetty, another to Eric, and then they're all on the road again. This time in one SUV thanks to the grenade rendering the other immobile.

The sun's just beginning to come up as they make it to the Interstate, the sky clear, no sign of a storm in any direction. The road is littered with debris, bits of leaves and sticks strewn about, the occasional piece of trash.

Deeks is propped against the back door, his bag balanced between his head and the window, serving as an impromptu pillow. Callen's sitting next to him, arms folded across his chest as he watches the scenery.

Sam's driving, Kensi riding shotgun, her eyes occasionally making their way to the backseat.

"We're not gonna break, Kens," Deeks says when she turns for the third time in as many minutes.

Sam smirks, but otherwise remains quiet as Kensi rolls her eyes. "I'm not expecting you to, Deeks."

"Then what's with the Worry Eye you're casting our way?" he challenges, adjusting the lumpy bag to better suit his stiff neck.

"I just…you guys almost gave a grenade a hug a couple of hours ago. Sue me for being concerned." She turns around in the seat, her eyes going back and forth from Callen to Deeks, daring either to judge her.

"Fair enough," Callen concedes, hands rising, palms out in the universal gesture of surrender.

Kensi shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and Deeks can tell she wants to say more. Probably wants to have a heart to heart about what had happened in that room, what had been happening while they were sleeping not five feet away.

But she'll deal with it just like she always does, like they all do.

"Damn," Callen whispers, his palms pressing into his forehead.

"Headache?" Deeks asks, already knowing the answer. His is killing him, too.

Callen simply nods, wiping his hand down his face before resuming his study of the window.

"I've got some medicine in my bag," Kensi offers, intentionally not mentioning what kind of medicine. "I can get it for you."

"Thanks," Callen says, reaching for the bottle of water he has resting in the cup holder. Deeks forces the smile away as he watches Kensi hand Callen a few white capsules, Callen tossing them back without a second thought.

The smile breaks through, turning grateful as Kensi repeats the process, handing a few to Deeks. He accepts them gratefully, any immature comments held back as he tries to settle back into the normal.

It'll be a while before the Seagull Inn isn't on his mind, before he can lie in a bed and not think about what might be happening around him.

He knows the same is true for the others, as well. But as he glances in the front seat, watching as Sam's face breaks out in a wide grin as he studies the bottle of Midol in Kensi's hand, Deeks knows they'll all get through it.

They'll deal with it like they always do.

The End

AN: Hopefully, I'll have more stories up soon. Depends on what all life decides to throw at me.