NCIS: Los Angeles - Hard Target

Turning the Tables

Time had ceased to exist...all there was for him was pain.  But pain, like emotion, could be controlled.  Slow, easy, calm breathing allowed him to slip into a place where family could be found; where joy and happiness abounded; where peace prevailed... 

NCIS Special Agent Sam Hanna had descended to this place shortly after his captor's hung him out to dry like a piece of meat on a hook.  His shackles dug deep furrows into his wrists; blood oozing from the insult.  Sam's shoulders were being stretched to their breaking point so much so that they had become numb from the decreased blood flow.  He could no longer remember how long he had been hanging there...only that he was.  Though his mind screamed that none were coming to rescue him, Sam's heart knew otherwise.  His team...his family...was coming for him.  Once  freed from his bindings, there would be hell to pay and he intended to collect.  Those responsible would soon meet their end and that thought alone gave him hope and purpose; a point to focus on in order to survive this horrendous ordeal.

Sam had been through many tough places; had stared death in the face many times first as a Navy SEAL and now as an NCIS agent, so the predicament he found himself in held no surprises for him, but it only served to irritate the crap out of him that much more.  As he hung there, breathing was starting to become a bit more challenging as the pressure on his diaphragm continued to increase.  Soon, little black dots began to form on the periphery of his vision and simple consciousness was getting harder to maintain...so was the temptation to close his eyes once and for all...let go and allow the pain to end for good.  Sam continued to hang on by the single thread tying him to this life...hope.

Skulking through the varied terrain that surrounded them, Special Agents Jana MacBride and a badly bruised Marty Deeks hunkered down behind a moss-covered boulder.  The pair had spent the last hour or so eluding the marauding band of murderous thugs snapping at their heels bent on collecting their 'prize' in a sick and twisted game of 'kill or be killed'.  Down below their precarious position languished their friend and fellow agent, Sam Hanna. 

"Cover me, Kerigan."  Deeks whispered as the lithe, scruffy federal agent stretched out onto his belly and slithered his way to the edge of the shallow ravine.  At the bottom, with his feet dangling about two feet off the ground hung Sam's unconscious form.  A sudden soft rustling of grass caused Deeks to whirl angrily ready to fight.

"Easy killer."  Kerigan whispered.  "We're clear for the moment."

"MacBride!"  Deeks growled.  "I'm wound way too tight for you to do that!  I nearly stopped breathing!"

"Sorry about that, partner."  Jana said as she laid a soft hand on his upper back after she slid next to him on the ground.

"He looks bad."  Deeks said sadly. 

"I know, but he's at least breathing...some."  MacBride added.  "My kingdom for a gun."

"You need to work on finding more creative ways to conceal your firearm, Kerigan."  Deeks smiled wickedly.  "I'm sure Clay can help you with that one."

"I am so gonna throat-punch you when we get out of this pickle."  Jana hissed irritably. 

"No need to hide your feelings about him, Jana.  He's a cool guy."  Deeks said as he crawled a bit closer to the edge.  "We all like him.  He's a good match for you." 

"Can we not talk about this right now, Deeks?"  Kerigan grated.  "Seriously?!?!  We have a happy gang of creeps who think this is a hunting expedition and we're the trophies.  I would really, really be put-out if I wind up stuffed and displayed in Jonas Kennedy's den!"