The Sofitel Hotel- Los Angeles

"When things get really hard for us, sometimes it's best that we keep the pain a secret to protect the ones around us."

Marty Deeks remembers the day his mother had told him those words. It was the evening that he had shot his father. His mother, Isabelle, had pulled the young boy into her arms, ran a hand over his long hair, and whispered those words into his ear as they sat in the Los Angeles Police Department.

After Gordon Brandell had been sent to prison, Isabelle had told her son to tell no one, not his teachers, his aunts or uncles, or friends, of what had happened. Isabelle Brandell carried the pain of the abuse around with her for years until the stress had finally killed her. It left Deeks angry and confused over on why Isabelle would choose such a painful way to deal with her abusive past.

Now 20 years later, Deeks fully understands why his mother did what she did.

He stands in the lap pool room at the Sofitel hotel on an early Monday morning. He's alone, standing at the very edge of the pool ready to do his morning swim. The LAPD detective takes a breath, stretches his arms above his head, and then dives into the pool head first. He surfaces quickly and starts freestyle swimming towards the other end of the pool, turning his head left and right as he goes along. Deeks makes it only a quarter of the way across the pool before he stops abruptly.

His PTSD is kicking in.

Two months ago, Detective Marty Deeks had been put through the worst 27 hours of his life. He had been doing a simple op as a favor to LAPD when he was kidnapped and assaulted brutally. His attack resulted in PTSD induced panic attacks, nightmares, and uncontrollable emotions. Or as like now, a flashback.

"No…..no, no, no- not right now," Deeks exclaims. He begins to paddle to the edge of the pool as quickly as he can. When he reaches the edge, he puts his hands on the pool walkway just as a memory from his assault flashes across his mind.

"Take the pain, detective!"

Deeks' head is pulled back and he begins convulsing from the electricity being shot through his body. He's lying on a gritty warehouse floor, blinded, naked, and bloody from whippings and the other unthinkable torture his body's been put through. The detective can hear the laughter from at least seven- no, eight men that surround him.

One of his assailants leans in close, his alcohol infested order making Deeks want to vomit. The man spits in his ear, "Scream all you want- no one can hear you."

"Ahhh…." Deeks yells out as he puts a hand to his forehead. "Stop it, stop it, stop it- you aren't there right now-"

Ring!

Deeks hears his cell phone rings from his gym bag sitting near the door. It's his alarm, warning that he needs to get ready for work. The detective has no choice- he climbs out of pool and begins to get ready for work, while ignoring the dark memories the best he can.

OPS Center

Deeks walks into the bullpen and places his briefcase and go bag on his desk. There's no greeting, no nods- no acknowledgement of his arrival from his teammates, Sam Hanna, G Callen and Kensi Blye. Deeks' PTSD has destroyed his relationships with his teammates- the detective's irritability, random angry outbursts, lack of sleep, and unwillingness to talk has turned him into the one person that no one wants to work. And with Deeks following his mother's advice, none of the three agents know that the LAPD liaison that they've grown to hate is a victim of a brutal, unsolved assault. Deeks is ok with that because in his mind, it's better that his teammates hate him and not know of the pain he's struggling through.

As he sits down at his desk, Deeks takes a second to glance over to his partner, Kensi Blye. She doesn't notice him as she's writing down notes from an old case file. When she finally does notices that he's staring at her, she looks him in the eye for a second, shakes her head in disbelief, and then returns her focus back to the paperwork. Her anger towards him hurts the most- before the attack , Kensi and Deeks had their thing- a beautiful, sexual unresolved tension that defined their relationship. Their last conversation, on the morning of the attack, had ended badly.

"I wanted to talk to you about something personal," Deeks states as they stand on the terrace. He's in a crisp Armani suit, courtesy of Hetty. Kensi is donning a long black Vera Wang dress, also courtesy of their operations manager, and looks beyond stunning to the detective.

"What's up?" Kensi asks with a smile. Deeks takes a minute to admire her before chuckling, "Ok- well, um, this sounded a whole lot better in my head."

"What's going on, Deeks?"

Deeks is speechless and decides to do the only thing he can to express what he wants to say- he pulls Kensi close and kisses her. The kiss lasts a minute before Kensi abruptly pulls away. Panicking, Kensi whispers, "We can't-"

"What- why?"

"I just ...we can't, Deeks! It's against the rules and I just….I'm so sorry, Marty."

There was nothing said after the fact; that very night, Deeks had been brutally attacked.

Deeks snaps out of his daze at the sight of team leader walking past his desk. He's carrying at FBI case file in hand.

"What's that?" Deeks calls out in a hoarse voice.

Callen looks up at Deeks with a raised eyebrow. Within days after the attack, Callen had tried and tried to figure out what was wrong with Deeks. His patience had ran out when during a sparring lesson, Deeks had broken his nose without an explanation. Like the rest of his teammates, Callen had no idea that the detective's behavior was unintentional.

"Why do you care?" Callen snaps as he sits down.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you seem so uninterested in anything that we do around here," Callen mutters. Sam, who's sitting at his desk cuts off the leader and says, " G, don't even bother. Don't waste your breath."

Deeks flinches when a memory of his suddenly flashes across his mind.

"Please don't do this," Deeks whispers as he sees the red hot branding iron in the hand of an assailant.

"You have no say in this, Martin. Don't waste your breath."

The memory triggers an angry outburst- " What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Deeks roars with his entire body shaking. Before Sam can reply, Eric whistles for the entire team to assemble in OPS. Sam and Callen shoot a glare at Deeks before walking towards the stairs behind Kensi. Deeks stays behind for a moment and tries to shake off the anger and fear running through his veins. Callen suddenly yells, "Deeks, let's go!"

The detective sighs and slowly makes his way to the operations room.

There's work to be done.

"The FBI is calling this team to assist in a case that's considered to be out of our jurisdiction," Hetty tells the team when the entire team has made it to the operations room. "Across the country, there have been eight distinct attacks against seven known individuals- a police officer in Hawaii, a lawyer in Mississippi, two DHS workers in Nevada, an assistant district attorney in Illinois, an retired postal worker in Texas, and corrections official from San Francisco. "

"That's only seven people, " Sam says, " Who's the eighth?"

"We aren't sure yet, but we do know the attack was in the Los Angeles area about 2 months ago. Anyway, they were all kidnapped, tortured in horrific ways- all within 27 hours."

27 hours? Kidnapping? Torture? That sounds like me! Deeks feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. He doesn't know whether to run, scream, or collapse from the fear and panic running through his veins.

He's the eighth victim and his team doesn't know it.