anonkp

[anonkp]

Yes! @ejzah with my favorite storyline of hers, fixing the absolutely awful version we saw on the show.

A/N: Takes place after Deeks returns from FLETC.

***

Sam: There’s the man. Investigator Marty Deeks. Bring it in, brother. *he pulls Deeks in for a hearty hug, squeezing the back of his neck*

Deeks, barely suppressing a wince: Good to see you too, man.

Sam: Congratulations. I knew you could do it.

Deeks: Thanks.

Callen: So, when do you amaze us with your stunning investigative skills, Investigator?

Kensi, looping her arm around Deeks’ back: He’s all mine for a few more weeks.

Sam, crossing his arms: Seriously. You got approved for leave after being gone for a couple months?

Deeks, reluctantly: No, I am on medical leave. Because I broke two ribs at FLETC.

Callen: Nice.

Sam: Doing what? You’re better at hand-to-hand combat than 90% the kids that graduate. Do I need to go have a talk with someone?

Deeks: I appreciate the brotherly concern, but it was an accident. At least I’m pretty sure it was. You know the guy they use to train combat, Sims?

Callen: That guy’s bigger than Sam.

Deeks: Yep. He was working with another cadet, lost his balance, and I made a nice soft landing for him.

Sam, softly: Damn. You’re lucky it’s only two ribs.

Kensi, tightly: Lucky isn’t the word I’d use. For now, Deeks has orders to avoid anything too strenuous and I am taking a few days to make sure he sticks to that.

Callen, chucking: Those restrictions must be killing you two.

Deeks, mischievously: It’s not ideal, but we can get pretty creative.

Kensi, touching his cheek: And I’m under no restrictions.

[anonkp]

You're my world.

[anonkp]

The way these two look at one another. Just, wow.

Why hasn't Granger arrested me? 'Cause we haven't told him yet.

[anonkp]

Definitely not too much. I’d say just right.

Blunt Force, Part 11

***

“You know, I’m not a big surprise guy. I kind of like to know what’s going on, particularly given recent developments,” Deeks commented. Kensi had arrived at his apartment early Saturday moment, armed with a hot cup of coffee just the way he liked it, a donut, and instructions to get ready for an excursion.

Normally, he’d have a few questions, but three weeks out from his TBI, cabin fever had started to set in. The worst of his concussion symptoms had resolved, but he still wasn’t cleared for most activities that would he’ll pass the time. Definitely not surfing or running, which he’d relied on a lot to deal with both frustration and boredom.

So, he’d changed into jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his phone, and let Kensi drive without any idea of their destination.

“Deeks, relax, I’m not kidnapping you,” Kensi said now, calmly driving along a road lined with a mix of gas stations, apartments, and retail establishments. He dipped his head to glance out the passenger window.

“Well, two minutes ago I wasn’t too worried, but this does kind of look like my old stomping grounds. Please tell me you didn’t stage an intervention with my mother.” He intended it mostly as a joke, but the surrounding area did look pretty familiar.

“Deeks, I’ve never even met your mom.”

“Really?” That surprised him after the amount of time they’d spent together since his injury. He started to ask why, but Kensi signaled to turn into a parking lot with a strip mall, which contained several chain restaurants, a boutique, and supplements store from what he could see. “Did you have a sudden craving for the Chinese buffet?”

“No. Though the crab Rangoon from that place are amazing,” she said.

“I know. I used to come here all the time when I lived in the area,” he told her.

She flashed him an odd look, but didn’t say anything else as she slowed in front of a nondescript gray building and parked towards the back of the parking lot.

“Kensi, where are we?”

“Do you trust me?” she returned, fingers clamping and unclamping around the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” he said without much thought. She hadn’t given him a reason not to.

“It’s a firing range.”

“That’s what I thought, which leads to my next question. Why?”

Putting the SUV in park, Kensi sighed and turned to face him. “We spent a lot of time practicing and training, so I thought being in a familiar environment might, I don’t know, bring up some memories. And if not, it’s a good bonding exercise.”

“And we could do that at the buffet or a walk in the park. Literally, anything else,” he said. Kensi pressed her lips together, staying silent for several seconds.

“Do you trust me?” she repeated, more softly this time.

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t call her on the blatant manipulation. “Ok, let’s go shoot stuff,” he said unenthusiastically.

Kensi rented two lanes for them along with ear protection. When the attendant asked if they needed weapons or ammunition, she said they had their own.

At this time of day, there was only one other patron at the far end of the room. Deeks instantly felt tense at the muted sound of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder.

Once they were set up in their lanes, Kensi removed a gun from her waistband. He instantly recognized the model thanks to way too many cases involving firearms.

“This is your preferred service weapon at the moment,” Kensi explained, offering it to him with the muzzle pointed towards the floor. “You switched from a Smith and Wesson a while back. Here, take it.”

“Guns aren’t my favorite thing,” Deeks drawled, side-eyeing the weapon with distaste.

“I understand, but I’d bet a month worth of dish duties that Hetty will ask for a firearms demonstration, so…” she presented the gun to him again.

With extreme reluctance, Deeks took the gun by the handle. The weight and coolness of the metal didn’t surprise him, but the vague sense of familiarity did. He hadn’t held a gun of any kind in his bare hands in over a decade. It felt odd, not wrong exactly, but certainly not something he enjoyed.

“Why don’t you take a shot?” Kensi suggested.

“Or I could just watch you.”

“Deeks.” Coming up behind him, she cupped his elbows, physically adjusting his arms and hands into the appropriate position. When she stepped back, he missed the warmth again his back. He automatically shifted slightly in a way that felt more natural. Raising his hands a little higher, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet pinged off a piece of metal outside of the target.

“Yep, I’m a natural,” he commented.

“It’s going to take a minute,” Kensi assured him. “Though I’m going to remember how bad that was later on.”

“Sure, keep making fun of the concussed guy.”

“Yeah, you poor baby.” Moving over to her own lane, she removed a second gun from her waistband, adjusted her headphones, and aimed with an impressive amount of speed, shooting several bullets in a row.

She casually stepped back with a smug smile and brought the target forward.

“Wow, that’s impressive. And kind of terrifying.”

“Thank you. Now it’s your turn again.”

“As delightful as your demonstration was, I don’t think I’m going to be any better this time around.” He tried to hand the gun back, but Kensi shook her head.

“Close your eyes and visualize yourself aiming the gun and shooting,” Kensi instructed him, and he followed along as she kept speaking. He’d never taken Kensi for the type to buy into this kind of thing. “You’ve done this a thousand times before. It’s second nature at this point. It’s easy.”

He focused on his breathing, letting his thoughts drift with the sound of Kensi’s voice. He imagined the times when he’d wished he could defend someone over the years. The little girl who got bullied by kids twice her age, the eighteen year old boy hurt in a carjacking, the terrified mom just trying to protect her children. Eleven year old Marty Deeks.

Deeks’ eyes sprang open and he raised his arms, gun held between his hands; everything stilled around him as he aimed and pulled the trigger six times. He lowered the gun, breathing as hard as if he’d just finished a race.

Beside him, Kensi reeled in the target, revealing six bullet holes clustered around the bullseye.

“Wow,” she commented. “I guess that muscle memory kicked in after all.”

Shaking, Deeks pulled the headphones off and shoved them into Kensi’s hands.

“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” he muttered.

“Deeks,” he heard her say, but he pushed past her, ignoring her repeated calls.

***

A/N: Was that too much?

[anonkp]

Love it.

Hey is it possible to get a chapter out for One wrong move?

A/N: Hey there! It just so happens I had this half written when you sent in your ask. Here you go. Thanks for asking!

***

One Wrong Move, Part 7

Kensi walked back to to Deeks’ room—he’d been switched to one with a higher level of containment—with trepidation. Her last glimpse of him, he’d been covered in medical equipment, and unconscious. The doctor said Deeks was conscious now, but who knew what condition he was in otherwise.

Thankfully, when she walked in, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. A nasal cannula partially obstructed his face and he had a new IV placed in the back of his other hand. Worry about further seizures and what would happen if the new medication didn’t work filled her.

Deeks was alive, she reminded herself, and that was something to be grateful for. Grabbing a mask from station set up outside the room, she pressed the entrance button, waiting until the door made a click and buzzing noise.

Deeks turned his head slowly in response to the door opening, the corner of his mouth lifting in a glimmer of a smile.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey.” He lifted his hand briefly, the movement slow and uncoordinated. His face was flushed, eyes heavy, and he looked completely exhausted. “This is not my week,” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry, Deeks.”

“Feels like the time my mom gave me a shot of bourbon and cold medicine,” he said slowly.

“They have you on the good stuff then.” Joking felt good. Normal. At least in their world.

“Mm. Supposed to relax me and bring my—” he waved his finger in the air near his head. “Bring my temp down.”

“Did they tell you what happened?”

“Doctor said some kind of seizure. Never had one of those before. Wouldn’t recommend,” he said with a tired sigh.

“Yeah. It was pretty scary, but they said it was probably the preventative medication. They’re going to try a different one instead,” she explained. She didn’t want to tell him too much and risk upsetting him. Then again, he didn’t seem capable of getting agitated at the moment with whatever medication he was on.

“Now I feel really special. Hope it works.”

“Me too.” Kensi wiped away a tear that threatened to spill down her cheek, and he gestured her closer with a lazy wave of his hand, movement hampered by the IV.

“Hey, c’mere.”

Taking his hand, she let him “pull” her close enough she could have climbed into bed with him. She settled on leaning on the arm rail, cradling his hand in both of hers, and focused on the familiar lines and crevices along the skin.

“It’s going be ok,” he whispered, sounding the most coherent he had since she walked in the room.

“I keep trying to tell myself that,” she said, unable to stop her breath from hitching, or another tear from slipping out. “It’s hard though.”

“It’s gotta be. I have my favorite Ladybird by my side and we’ve got so much more life together.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, the simple gesture reassuring. “I’m not leaving you yet, Kensi Blye.”

“You better not,” she whispered, lifting his hand to her cheek.

[anonkp]

This is really sweet.

A/N: What happens when I watch “Paper Soldiers”, a fairly angst free episode? I immediately write a very angsty fic borne from a few random lines of dialogue. I’m also back to borrowing random lyrics from Wicked.

***

Unlike I Anticipated

“Agent Blye continued to pursue,” Deeks muttered to himself, typing along with his monologue. He had about half of his report written when he fell Kensi’s gaze on him. Sure enough, the next time he checked his notes, he saw her watching him out of the corner of his eye. It was just the two of them now, in the quiet of the empty bullpen.

“Yeees?” he prompted. Kensi didn’t say anything. “Come on, I can literally feel you thinking. It’s super distracting. If this is about what that guy said to you, because I would have understood if you punched him.”

“No, it’s not about that creep,” Kensi told him. She fiddled with her pencil, pushed a couple of trinkets around her desk, increasing Deeks’ curiosity with every second she stalled. It either had to be something embarrassing or that he wouldn’t like.

“When we were talking about you being a public defender, it got me thinking. I was wondering what that was like?” She shrugged, and Deeks understood why she felt so uncomfortable.

They weren’t this direct. Not in this way. Not without jokes and work to act as a buffer. Not when it was just the two of them late at night.

He turned to face her. “What’s going on with you? First you’re imagining me at my former former job, now you want to know what it was like?”

“Sorry.” She held up her hands, instantly defensive. “God forbid I show some interest in my partner’s life.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Brushing her shoulder to stop her from getting up and leaving, Deeks waved her back down. “Just, stop for two seconds, ok? What exactly do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Most of the public defenders I’ve run into through cases have either been jerks or seemed like they just stumbled out of law school,” she said.

“That is pretty accurate,” Deeks agreed. He’d worked with one guy who’d hated his guts from day one and a woman who’d shook every day she walked into court. She’d quit after two months.

“You put up with a lot at LAPD, right? Bad partners, Bates, working rough undercover cases all on your own with almost no support. So, the LA court system much have been particularly awful for you to just up and leave after a couple of years,” Kensi surmised rather shrewdly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I just up and left,” Deeks hedged. “It did suck though.” He leaned back, addressing Kensi more seriously. He never liked talking about his time as a lawyer; he largely considered it one of the more miserable and disheartening points of his life. Which was saying something.

“I went into law because I wanted to help people. I had this idealized notion that I could—rescue kids like me before the worst happened. Or stop the people like my dad,” he explained. He smiled sardonically. “I guess I pictured myself as a modern day Atticus Finch.” He chuckled to himself at how poorly his own attempts at playing judicial savior had gone. Kensi would have a field day if she ever found out he shared a middle name with a literary attorney.

“So you weren’t stopping the injustices of the world?” Kensi guessed.

“I knew I’d have to defend criminals and generally bad people, but I, naively, thought I’d also get those cases with the wife who shoots her abusive husband or the teenager who needs a second chance. Instead, I had to defend truly awful people and watch their cases get dismissed because I had a better argument, or there was an issue with evidence, or the victim dropped charges. Nine days out of ten, I hated it.”

A moment too late, he realized just how much he’d revealed, and he swallowed self-consciously. Kensi’s eyes held a little bit too much sympathy and compassion as she watched him.

“So, I quit.”

“And you thought LAPD would be better?” she asked.

“Maybe not. I figured I’d at least have the opportunity to intervene where it mattered. I’d be able to make sure the chain of evidence wasn’t broken and maybe that mom wouldn’t need to shoot her husband because a cop actually listened to her for a change,” he said, his voice hoarse. His lips twitched in an approximation of a smile. “Then I jumped ship when Hetty offered the liaison position.”

“I’m glad you did.” For once, there wasn’t a hint of teasing in Kensi’s voice. “I hope NCIS is better than the courts or LAPD.”

“It is.”

“Good.” Kensi grabbed her pencil again, seemingly ready to get back to her paperwork, then paused, hesitating for several seconds before she added, “For the record, you did make a difference. Even if it didn’t feel like it at the time.”

Deeks sat back, letting Kensi’s words sink in. He didn’t know if he fully believed her, but for the first time, the thought of his previous careers didn’t leave him feeling bitter and hopeless.

[anonkp]

Aww, thanks @ejzah for humoring my request with such a charming story.

A/N: For @anonkp, who suggested a fic where Kensi and Deeks find out Whiting is actually Steven’s mom.

***

The In-Law

“They should be here any minute,” Rosa said, looking beyond Deeks, in the direction of the entrance. “Steven says they got stopped by a red light.”

“That’s ok,” Deeks assured her, gesturing around the restaurant. “It’s pretty busy, so we’ll probably have to wait anyway.”

After officially dating for three months (following nearly two months of being “just friends”), Rosa had agreed to let Kensi and Deeks meet Steven’s mom. The event had come with a good amount of back and forth between Rosa and Steven over details, worrying if everyone would like the food, and so forth. They finally settled on a Mexican restaurant both kids approved of and had an open table for five.

“You know, I thought we’d never meet either of Steven’s parents. He must be pretty important for all this secrecy.”

Rosa blushed, dipping her head. “I just didn’t want to rush things.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Baby, stop teasing her,” Kensi intervened.

“Thank you, Kensi.”

“You’re welcome. The teasing will come later, on the way home.”

“You two are awful,” Rosa complained without much heat.

“Which is how you know we love you,” Deeks teased. He grinned at Rosa’s unamused expression. He tried not to embarrass her too much, but occasionally, it was fun. Especially when it came to Steven, who Rosa clearly adored, despite her claims it was still casual.

“Shhh, here they come,” Rosa said, making a waving motion as she hushed them both and sat straighter.

“I wasn’t even talking!” Kensi protested.

Deeks turned to look, catching sight of Steven’s sandy blond hair first, then the woman standing slightly behind him. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

“What?” Kensi asked, but he didn’t have a chance to respond before Steven and Ellen Whiting, of all people, were within Kensi’s line of sight too. She had her hair down and wore casual clothes, but it was definitely her.

Standing, Rosa met Steven and Whiting a few feet away.

“No, this can’t be real. What are we going to do?” Kensi hissed.

“I don’t know, but they’re coming back, so try to act normal.”

“Mrs. Hardy, these are my parents, Kensi and Marty,” Rosa said as she returned with Steven and Whiting. She smiled nervously, clinging to Steven, who looked equally anxious.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Whiting drawled, looking at them with a mixture of amazement and annoyance. “Thought I was seeing things when Rosa pointed you out.”

“Good to see you too, Whiting,” Deeks said wryly.

“Wait, you know each other?” Rosa asked in obvious confusion.

“Oh, that’s one way of putting it.”

Whiting made a face at that, but before she could expound on her and Deeks’ past encounters, Kensi spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you, Ellen. Please, sit down.”

Soon after everyone was situated, a waiter came to take their orders, and Rosa and Steven began to visibly relax.

“So, where did you and mom meet?” Steven asked, twisting a balled up straw paper between his fingers. “I didn’t think you handled criminal law.”

“I used to be a detective,” Deeks explained shortly.

“And I worked in law enforcement too,” Kensi added.

“And I arrested Deeks once.” Whiting smiled at Deeks’ glare and Steven and Rosa’s twin looks of shock. “Just kidding.”

“Yeah, your mom’s just a barrel of laughs. I’ve always said that about her.”

“Baby, play nice,” Kensi said warningly.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat sharply. “So, I’m guessing Whiting is your maiden name.”

“I changed my name to Hardy after I got married but kept Whiting professionally. It’s easier to keep the parts of my life separate,” Whiting answered. “When we talked about kids that last case we had together, I never imagined my kid would be dating yours.”

“It’s definitely a shocker.”

“Is that why you asked me about Steven’s last name?” Rosa wondered, narrowing her eyes at them.

“We thought there might be a slight chance,” Kensi explained. “We didn’t think there’d end up being a connection.”

“I think it’s cool.” Steven nodded happily, sharing a smile with Rosa. “Since you guys already know each other, it’ll be a lot less awkward getting together.”

“Maybe we can have Steven and Mrs. Hardy over for dinner sometime soon,” Rosa suggested.

“Oh, sure, of course. You know, if you’re available. We know how busy your schedule is.” Kensi chuckled awkwardly.

“I’m free this Saturday,” Whiting said with a familiar, biting smile.

“Awesome. I’ll make something special for dinner,” Rosa offered.

“Great.” Deeks purses his lips, forcing a smile of his own. “This is going to be fantastic.

[anonkp]

Epic scene in an epic episode.

You're the one who never says what he means. That's not true. Then say something you actually mean.

[anonkp]

Very fine whumpage

You Had Me at Jack, Part 18

***

“How could you lose him so quickly?” Kensi asked, walking the length of the alleyway for some clue. It occurred to her that she might be falling into a trap, but her need to fine Deeks override any self-preservation. He’d gone missing on her watch.

“I don’t know,” Eric answered, sounding both confused and tense. “Something must have happened to his phone. Damn it, I knew I should have given him a watch instead.”

“Eric, there’s not time for that now,” Callen interceded. “Can you find video coverage around the club.”

“I’m looking now.”

“I’m checking traffic and surveillance cameras,” Nell added.

Kensi said nothing, phone still pressed to her ear as she scanned the ground. The pair of dumpsters outside the kitchen exit door caught her and her stomach swooped with a sickening feeling. She approached them slowly, with an almost certain dread. Just as she reached to open the closest one, Eric announced,

“I found him. Well, video from one of the security cameras. A woman and a man were carrying Deeks and put him in the trunk of a car. It looked like Deeks was unconscious.”

“He’s alive,” Kensi breathed out, almost weak with relief. “Where did they take him.”

“We’re still tracking the car,” Nell answered.

“But Kensi, at least one of them is armed,” Eric warned.

***

“Marie, if you kill me, you’re going to have two murders linked with the club,” Deeks stalled. Maria dropped the gun ever so slightly, her expression still unmoved, but he could tell she was at least listening. “A random customer is one thing, an employee is another. And I leave a lasting impression. There’s going to be cops crawling all over the second they find my body.”

“Not if they don’t find your body,” she replied calmly.

“That’s relying on a lot of ifs. And let’s face it, Marie, you’re not the type to get your hands dirty. Otherwise, I’d have figured out you were the one behind everything a long time ago.”

“Tell that to Mark Jackson,” she hissed. Deeks had suspected as much; though it would do little good without a recording. Lifting the gun back to its original position, Marie smirked. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Not a second later, the boom of doors being battered down split the air. Deeks instinctively rolled to the side as Marie took off in the opposite direction. Zeke made a grab for him, but Deeks kicked out, catching him at the knees and the other man went down hard.

Deeks nearly went down too as the room blurred around him unexpectedly. He clumsily fell to his knees, and the doors finally opened, revealing the NCIS team. With Deeks’ growing haziness, it felt like something out of a movie, especially when Kensi race in still in her lacy dress and high heels.

“NCIS,” Deeks heard Callen shout as they moved further into the room. Zeke tried to sit up again, but Kensi flipped onto his stomach with an impressive kick, then pressed the narrow heel of her stiletto into his back.

“I will happily shoot you if you move,” she informed Zeke calmly. Personally, Deeks wouldn’t have minded if he struggled a little. She cuffed him without issue, moving on to examine the ropes around Deeks’ wrist.

Reaching under her skirt, she revealed a garter belt equipped with several pocket, and removed a reasonably sized knife.

“Wow, that’s kind of hot,” he murmured, shifting around so Kensi could cut the ropes and hopefully not him.

“You like that, huh?”

“It’s almost worth getting bashed in the head,” he agreed. Finally, his hands were loose and he shook them out, wincing at the tingling sensation.

“I bet you didn’t expect me to save the day,” she said, moving in front of him now.

“Did Callen and Hanna go after Marie?” he asked. “Apparently she’s the mastermind behind all of this.”

Kensi nodded. “Yeah, they’re in their pursuit. I don’t think she’ll get very far.” As she spoke, she gingerly touched the back and side of his head, where he’d been hit. Up until now, he’d mostly ignored the pain. With her touch and the reminder of hid injury, the throbbing came back in full force. “Wow, you’re still bleeding quite a bit,” she commented worriedly.

“That explains the dizziness. I didn’t think there were three of you, though that wouldn’t be terrible,” he rambled. A wave of nausea had come over him, adding to the general feeling of awfulness.

“Ok, you’re going to the ER,” Kensi decided.

“Whatever you say, Nurse Kensi,” Deeks mumbled, then promptly fell forward into her arms.

[anonkp]

Interesting that Deeks realizes that the violence of police work may have been a selling factor in his career change.

Blunt Force, Part 4

***

“You ready to try that breakfast yet?” Kensi asked, nodding to the tray with the typical suspects for a liquid diet. He shrugged indifferently, but she seemed eager for something to do.

“I suppose.”

Kensi almost tripped over herself to get it for him, and he wondered if she was normally like this, or if the situation made her nervous. He had know way of knowing for sure having only met her yesterday. Well, that he remembered.

Setting the tray on the rolling table and carefully positioning it over his bed, Kensi took the plastic lid covering a small plate, revealing a bowl of lime jello and what he assumed was chicken broth.

“My favorite flavor. I guess it’s my lucky day,” he joked. To his surprise, Kensi smiled, almost looking relieved. “What?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just…the first time you were in the hospital once we were partners, you made a big deal about the jello,” she explained, waving her hand through the air.

“So, what you’re saying is I’m predictable.”

“No. It’s nice to know some things are still the same.”

With that comment to occupy his thoughts, he grabbed a spoon and started in on the small cup of jello. It didn’t taste bad, but he wasn’t particularly hungry. His thoughts drifted again.

He wondered if anyone had told his clients they would need new council. The district attorney would just love that. He’d been searching for an excuse to force Deeks out for months, and partial amnesia would be perfectly valid, unlike his frequent citations for Deeks’ appearance.

A second too late, he recalled that wouldn’t be necessary since he wasn’t a public defender and didn’t have clients anymore. Apparently he’d swapped out a briefcase and suit for a gun and a badge sometime along the way.

And wasn’t that something to wrap his head around? Even though he’d considered leaving criminal law, it surprised him he actually made that jump and so far to the other side. A dark voice in his head murmured that he’d always been the violent type, but he brushed that away with a shake of his head.

“Is your headache getting worse?” Kensi asked unexpectedly, and he inhaled deeply, glancing up from his uneaten jello.

“What, no I’m fine. Why?”

“Oh, you just do this thing with your eyebrows and your lips part a little bit.” She gestured to her own eyebrows.

“Wow, you really do know me well,” he murmured, and she flushed, which made him wonder just what their relationship was.

“One of the hazards of working together everyday, I guess,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “We’re pretty good at noticing each other’s quirks and judging moods.

It felt a little surreal every time Kensi made some reference to their partnership, work, or a detail of his life he couldn’t remember sharing with her. Hell, she knew things about him he couldn’t even remember experiencing at all. It left him with a strange sense of loss, an emptiness he couldn’t quite verbalize.

He supposed at the very least it seemed he was happier as a LAPD liaison than he had as a public defender. The thought that left a very low bar for comparison since he’d been pretty miserable for most of his tenure with the county law department.

His musing was interrupted once again, but this time by a nurse with a wheelchair.

“Mr. Deeks, I’m here to take your for your test and physical therapy evaluation,” she informed him. “Would you like any help washing up or any other tasks?”

“No, I think I can handle it,” Deeks said, easily transferring himself into the wheelchair without any assistance. It gave him a moment of pause, because he’d never used one before, but he shook it off, accepting that there were certain things he just wouldn’t understand for now.

He brushed his teeth and watched his face, attempting to use the plastic comb on the back of the sink to tame his hair before eventually giving it up. It looked like “styled by pillow” would be it until he could shower.

When he rolled back into the room, Kensi and the nurse were waiting for him.

“I’m going to get breakfast while you’re gone,” Kensi said, quickly adding, “but I’ll be back here when I’m done.”

He considered telling her again that she didn’t need to stay with him day on and day out. He didn’t think that would work any better than less time, so he just settled on a nod of appreciation.

“Ok. Sneak me back a donut, ok?” He winked as the nurse rolled him out of the room.

***

When Deeks returned from his CT scan and physical evaluation (he’d been deemed physically sound, but would need to use a wheelchair until he left since he was still a fall risk), he found a tiny brunette woman in his room in place of Kensi. She sat with a laptop propped on her folded legs, furiously typing away.

The moment she registered him, she set the laptop to the side as his nurse rolled him into the room. He assumed the mystery woman was either a friend or someone from the same agency as Kensi.

“This will be fine,” he said, indicating the end of the bed. After laying down for so long, it was a relief to be upright and slightly more mobile. Even if the position did bring back a touch of nausea.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Deeks?”

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks, Amanda.”

“Of course.” She offered him a smile and pat on the shoulder. “I’ll come check on you in a little bit.”

“Hi, I’m Nell Jones. I work with Kensi,” she explained. Once she’d left the room, the new woman stood up, smoothing her hands down the skirt of her dress.

“Marty Deeks, nice to meet you,” he replied, deciding to roll with it.

“Nice to me—” she started to say back before she caught herself with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. So, are you my new keeper?”

“Only temporarily. Our boss, Hetty, ordered Kensi to home for a few hours, so here I am.”

That was good.

“I see you drew the short straw.”

“No, I offered,” she corrected him seriously. “We’ve all been worried about you, so I jumped at an excuse to come.” She shrugged, though she didn’t look any less earnest. “I needed to see you were ok for myself.”

“I am. If you count partial amnesia as ok,” he said glibly.

“Yeah, that’s something I’ve only seen in movies and tv before,” Nell Jones admitted. “It must be weird.”

That genuinely made him laugh. “Yeah, it kind of is. In my mind, a new “Pirates of the Caribbean just came out, which was not as good as the first and I have a deposition in the morning.”

“I guess the good news is that you no longer have a deposition,” she pointed out, drawing another half-laugh from Deeks.

“That’s very true.” He grabbed the kid-size cup of grape juice still left on his breakfast tray, leaning back in the wheelchair, and gestured to the chair Nell Jones had previously occupied. “Make yourself comfortable.” He cleared his throat before taking a sip of the very sweet juice. “So, Kensi told me all about 2012 me. What’s your perspective, Ms. Jones?”

She made a face and held up a hand. “Oh, that sounds so wrong for some reason. It’s just Nell. And do you mean who you are or our relationship?” she asked.

“Either. Everything is a revelation.”

Taking a seat, Nell smooth her dress down, regarding him with a tilted head.

“Well aside from colleagues, you’re my friend, pseudo older brother.” She smiled conspiratorially. “You’re the kind of guy you can tease and joke with, but you’re also always there to lend a shoulder or defend depending on the situation. You’d walk me to my car late at night and block a bullet for me. Or help move a couch up three flights of stairs.”

“You make me sound like some kind of superhero,” Deeks commented. Her open and enthusiastic admiration made him uncomfortable.

“You are in a way. The whole team is really. But you’re you have a really special way of connecting with people that makes you different,” she explained.

“I guess I’ve always been a people person. It’s how I conned my way out of a lot of detentions. Or as the majority of supervisors have lamented, a trouble-maker.”

“You still are sometimes, but only in the best way. Honestly, if we didn’t joke around and act a little silly sometimes, we’d be miserable.”

He noted the difference between her and Kensi’s descriptions. Kensi had mentioned a rocky start while Nell presented a mostly positive version.

“You’re also really good at giving nicknames,” Nell added.

“Really? The prosecutors aren’t so appreciative.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“What’s one of nicknames for you?”

For the first time, she hesitated, then softly answered, “Sometimes you call me Nellosaurus. Or Velma and I call you Shaggy.”

“Like—?”

She nodded. “Scooby-Doo.”

“Gee, thanks,” he drawled, and she made a noise of protest.

“It is said with love. I happen to think Shaggy is an amazing character,” she insisted, trying to keep a straight face.

They broke into unexpected laughter, Nell nearly doubling over in an attempt to regain composure. Eventually, she sat up again, wiping under her eyes.

“Can I hug you?” she asked unexpectedly.

“What—yeah, I guess,” Deeks said, a little throw off by the wide swings in mood. Coming towards him, she bent down, wrapping both arms around him. Her hands just met in the middle of his back, and she squeezed him gently, pressing her face into his shoulder, with a shaky inhale.

“I was really worried about you,” she whispered.

***

A/N: I get to call Nell tiny, because I am also very short. I keep expecting to have this story finished up, but then there ends up being more to write

[anonkp]

Sweet.

Blunt Force, Part 3

***

Kensi woke up the next morning, cheek pressed into the blanket covering Deeks with her left hand loosely resting on his arm. The last thing she remembered was a nurse coming in to check Deeks around 3:30. She squinted at her watch; it took her eyes a few extra moments to focus on the bold seven on the small screen.

Minus the routine checks, Deeks slept through the night, much to Kensi’s relief. She’d worried he’d be plagued by the pain and nausea, but apparently the medication did its job since he’d only stirred a few times. She eased away from Deeks to avoid waking him up and slipped out of the room taking her go bag with her.

Yesterday, one of the nurses had shown her a restroom usually reserved for employees. It was stocked with toiletries and had a larger sink and mirror, which the nurse had encouraged Kensi to use if needed. Fortunately it wasn’t already in use at this time in the morning, so she locked herself inside.

She changed into a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt, swiping some deodorant on as an afterthought. Balling her used clothes into a ball, she shoved them into one corner of her bag, picturing Deeks’ teasing smirk.

As Kensi turned to the sink, she caught a flash of her reflection, and grimaced at what she saw. She might not have been injured, but she didn’t look all that much better than Deeks. The stress and minimal sleep had taken its toll; he eyes were shadowed and a little bloodshot, her hair stringy and matted.

Grabbing a spare hair band, she pulled her hair back in a tight ponytail, then bent over the sink to splash several handfuls of cool water over her face. It didn’t do much for her appearance, but she at least felt more human. She finished it up with a quick brush of her teeth before stuffing everything back into her bag, and hurriedly leaving the restroom.

It had only taken her about ten minutes, but Kensi didn’t want to risk missing Deeks waking up all alone. Fortunately, he hadn’t moved an inch in the time she’d been gone. He had one cheek turned into his pillow with his lips slightly parted.

Good. He needed the sleep, especially if his concussion symptoms persisted.

Ignoring the voice that told her she was being creepy and stepping way over boundaries, Kensi swept a few strands of hair out of his eyes. Then because she was this far in, she allowed herself to cup his cheek. His skin was reassuringly warm. For how physical they tended to be with each other, she’d only touched Deeks’ face a few times, and in this way even more rarely.

The memory of the one time she’d kissed him, under the ruse of maintaining a cover, sprang to mind. It had been rushed and overridden by the adrenaline of the moment, yet she still remembered the softness of his lips, the slight rasp of his beard under her fingers. It left her with an aching want that she usually suppressed. Now though, he had the desperate urge to lean down and press her lips to his.

Kensi hastily pulled her hand back, curling it against her chest to prevent acting on that urge. Clearing her throat, she glanced around the room, like someone might have caught her in the moment of weakness. She didn’t even have a brain injury to excuse her lapse in judgment.

Moving the chair back to what Kensi deemed a safe distance—Deeks didn’t need her fondling him in his sleep—she pulled out her phone. While he slept, she checked her emails and texts.

Callen wanted yet another update, Nell wanted to know if she needed anything, and Eric let her know he’d picked up Monty and would take care of him as long as needed.

Damn, she hadn’t even thought of Monty. Hopefully he hadn’t missed any meals or bathroom breaks.

She sent off a short update to Callen, then texted Nell, asking if she could bring more clothes and other necessities. Even though Deeks would likely encourage her to leave, Kensi had no intention of abandoning him unless ordered to.

A heavy knock interrupted the relative quiet of the room and an aide opened the door, a tray balanced on one arm.

“Good morning, Mr Deeks!”

Kensi rushed over to her, making a hushing gesture. “I’ll take it. He’s still sleeping,” she whispered.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman apologized.

“It’s ok. Thank you.”

Kensi shut the door quietly, but when she turned around, she saw the damage had already been done; Deeks’ legs shifted restlessly under the blankets as he started to wake up. He blinked several times, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion briefly. Then he landed on Kensi and his eyes cleared with recognition. And maybe a touch of disappointment.

Hey,” he murmured in a voice hoarse with sleep. Kensi quickly set the tray of liquids and jello to the side, hurrying over to him.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

He inhaled deeply, and stretched, his spine cracking audibly with the movement. “Better. I mean, my head still hurts, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode anymore.”

“That’s good,” Kensi said, feeling unaccountably awkward again. “Do you want some breakfast?”

His nostrils flared at her question and he gave the tiniest shake of his head. “Could I have some water?” he asked.

“Of course.” She filled one of the little plastic cups from the pitcher on his tray, handing it over to Deeks. His hand shook as he lifted the cup to his lips, taking an experimental sip. Apparently it settled well enough, because he took a larger swallow, and sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

“Did you stay here all night?” he asked, still speaking quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wouldn’t leave you like that,” she said, imagining him waking in the middle of the night all alone and confused. Not to mention, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

“Thanks.” He gestured vaguely, adding, “For all of this. Sticking around, explaining everything.”

“That’s what partners do,” she told him simply.

“Mm, partners.” Something in his voice shifted and he opened his eyes, observing her a curious look. “How exactly does that work if I’m not an agent?”

“You’re our LAPD Liaison,” Kensi explained.

“That sounds made up.”

Kensi almost laughed, even though she realized he hadn’t meant it as a joke. “The position was created so we’d have less conflict with the LAPD.” He didn’t interrupt, so Kensi continued, sitting down again.

“I didn’t have a partner at the time, so our boss, Hetty, paired us up. At first it was really rocky, I guess it still is sometimes—” she smiled softly. “We eventually learned to trust each other and we make a good team.” That seemed an inadequate summation of everything their relationships entailed, yet she didn’t know how to do it justice without veering into areas she’d rather not discuss just yet.

“It’s so weird to hear you talk about me, us I guess, in the past and have no memory of it,” he mused.

“It’s pretty weird from my point of view too.”

“Am I any good at it. Liaising?” he wondered, sounding doubtful.

“One of the best,” Kensi confirmed without an hesitation. At any other time, she’d have insulted him, teased him about his ego, but now he needed honesty. He needed to trust her and himself. “You have a way of looking at cases from a different angle than any one else would ever consider. It gets you some odd looks, but usually pays off.” She paused, considering how honest to be. “You’re also an amazing undercover operative.”

“I go undercover?”

“Yeah, pretty often. Sometimes for longer operations and other times last-minute roles that last a few minutes or hours. You’ve created several unique aliases, including a homeless man named Artie, who wears a disgusting jacket.”

“Ok, now you’re just making stuff up,” Deeks commented with a grin.

“I swear I’m not.” Kensi held her hands up. “You also have several criminal aliases you’ve used to infiltrate various crime rings and organizations,” she added. “Most importantly though, you have a way of connecting with witnesses and victims that never fails to amaze me. You’re great with kids.”

His expression softened at the last revelation, vulnerability in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted to work with kids. To help people. I like knowing that I was finally able to do that.”

So he’d already become disillusioned with criminal law. He’d never gone into much detail, but she’d figured out he’d been pretty miserable with representing dangerous criminals. A question was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back, not wanting to take advantage of Deeks’ vulnerability.

“You do help a lot of people. Every single day.”

He nodded, almost to himself, his eyes distant. “Do you trust me?” he asked unexpectedly. “As your partner.”

“Absolutely,” Kensi answered emphatically. “With my life.”

***

A/N: Turns out an amnesiac and concussed Deeks is very open. And Kensi can’t resist that.

[anonkp]

So good. Who wouldn’t want to run their fingers through Deeks’ hair?

A/N: Thanks so much for your lovely response to this story! It’s been a little while since I’ve really whumped Deeks. I’m trying to keep the medical and concussion/TBI parts fairly accurate, but I will take some liberties.

***

Blunt Force, Part 2

Kensi sat there for however long it took for the tears to subside and some of the immediate grief to dampen. She felt completely rung out; exhausted in a way that went beyond the physical.

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out, unsurprised to see a text from Callen, asking for an update. Pushing herself up with a wince, Kensi went over to the single sink, cupping handfuls of cool water over her face. A quick check in the mirror confirmed her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes red. No one would miss that she’d been crying.

With a sigh, she dried her hands and face, finally leaving the relative privacy of the restroom to find a secluded waiting room to call Callen back.

“Kensi, how’s Deeks?” Callen answered her, not wasting time on greetings.

“He’s awake.”

“Good.”

“Deeks has amnesia,” she blurted out, relieved to tell someone else.

“You’re joking,” Callen responded, and she snapped back,

“Would I make something like this up?”

“You wouldn’t,” he said carefully. “Are you sure this isn’t one of Deeks’ games though? You know he is.”

“I thought he might have been messing with me too at first, but it’s legitimate. He thinks he’s still a public defender.” She paused. “Callen, he didn’t recognize me.”

Callen paused for several seconds, then spoke in a softer, slightly uncomfortable tone. “Did the doctor give a prognosis?”

“She’s seeing him now. I mean, he’s alert and still Deeks…just from six years ago.”

“Well that’s not great,” Callen sighed after another long pause. “I need to go update Hetty.”

Kensi felt a surge of fury at both him and Callen. It was senseless; of course Hetty would need to know, but it seemed so callous with Deeks barely conscious.

“Let us know what the doctor says.”

“Right.” She started to hang up, but Callen asked,

“Hey, do you think he’d like any visitors?”

“I’ll ask, but it might be too overwhelming right now since he probably won’t remember any of you either.”

“Right. That’s going to be weird,” Callen mused. He sighed loudly enough it sent a blast of static in her ear. “Ok, let us know when you need a break.”

“I will,” Kensi said, knowing that she wouldn’t.

***

The doctor was still in with Deeks when she made it back to his floor. With nothing else to do, she grabbed a cup of coffee and sat on the bench at the end of the hall, sipping on the bitter drink. She kept going back to Callen’s mention of Hetty.

The implications of Deeks’ amnesia went so much further than just him not remembering the team. Assuming his memory loss didn’t resolve quickly, he wouldn’t be able to work with NCIS, or LAPD for that matter.

“Agent Blye?”

Her head snapped up, and she almost knocked her coffee from between her knees. She caught it at the last second, her hand shaking a little as she looked up into the kind, but vaguely concerned face of Dr. Lesley.

“Sorry. Hi. Is Deeks alright?”

“I just finished his exam. Mr. Deeks gave consent for me to go over the results with you,” she explained. “Would you like to come to one of the conference rooms with me? The chairs are more comfortable and the coffee’s better.”

“Uh, sure. But don’t you think Deeks should hear this too?” Kensi asked.

“I already filled him in. He was concerned he might not recall some of the details and figured you should know too.”

“Oh, ok.” Kensi nodded. At any other time, she would have been flattered that Deeks trusted he so quickly, but her brain had picked up on another indicator of memory loss.

She followed Dr. Lesley to a small conference room, which looked more equipped for staff meetings than patient debriefings. Dr. Lesley brought Kensi a fresh mug of coffee and a pastry from a white box before taking a seat across from Kensi.

“Alright. Based on the screenings I administered, Mr. Deeks doesn’t appear to have significant cognitive deficits aside from the amnesia,” Lesley explained.

“Amnesia seems pretty significant to me,” Kensi observed, methodically shredding her danish into minute pieces.

“It is. It would be worse though if he was showing signs of short term memory loss or trouble with executive function for example, which can be present with a traumatic brain injury and concussion. He answered all of the orientation questions correctly, aside from the date. Which makes sense since memory loss of the traumatic event is extremely common and he believes it’s 2006.”

“What about a brain bleed or swelling? I know you said the last scans didn’t show minimal damage, but could it get worse again?”

“It’s a possibility,” Dr. Lesley confirmed slowly. “I’ll order follow up tests to confirm there haven’t been any changes, but I’m not overly worried about it.”

Kensi nodded, worried enough for both of them. When had anything ever followed the normal path for their team?

When she didn’t say anything else, Lesley continued.

“I didn’t assess his overall motor function yet since Mr. Deeks said he was experiencing some dizziness and disorientation.”

“That’s not surprising,” Kensi muttered. It was more surprising that Deeks had been so alert. From her own injuries, she knew how debilitating a minor concussion could be.

“Do you have any questions? I know I just gave you a lot of information during an overwhelming time.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…he’s my partner.” To her horror, Kensi’s eyes welled up again before she could even think of controlling her response. Looking down, she tried to force the tears back before it turned into full-on crying again.

She froze when Dr. Lesley laid a hand over hers, her touch cool, yet oddly comforting.

“It’s alright to not be ok,” she told Kensi. “You’re probably used to being strong all the time, but you don’t have to do this alone. Marty’s in the very best of hands right now.”

“Thank you,” Kensi whispered. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course.” With a final squeeze of her hand, Dr. Lesley retreated, gathering up Deeks’ file.

“Can I see Deeks now?”

“Yes, but I should warn you that he was pretty exhausted by the time I finished with him. He may be sleeping or irritable. I also ordered a liquid diet for his first meal, so if you can convince him to drink some, that would be good,” Dr. Lesley said.

“I’ll try, but he’s pretty stubborn. I guess it’s part of the reason we worked together so well,” Kensi joked.

“Good. Most of my stubborn patients have something to prove. And he’ll need your support to get through this.”

Kensi smiled faintly, not overly reassured by the sentiment. She didn’t know if Deeks would want her around once he r got to know her again.

***

In contrast to earlier in the day, Deeks room was as dark as it could get, his bed lowered almost completely. He lay on his side, face buried in his pillow. She closed the door quietly in case he was sleeping, moving silently to the chair by his bed.

“Who’s there,” he muttered, making Kensi jump a little in surprise.

“It’s Kensi,” she whispered back. He turned his head, the slit of one eye visible in the dim light. “Go back to sleep.”

“Wish I could.” He sounded miserable, and as she sat down, she saw the faint lines of pain creasing his forehead. “What time is it?”

“A little after one,” she answered. “Dr. Lesley said lunch should be coming soon. Maybe there’ll be some lime jello.”

“Oh god no,” he groaned, swallowing convulsively. “I don’t even wanna think of how awful it would feel to throw up right now.”

“Is there anything I can do? Do you need more pain medication?” She’d already half-risen from her seat, but he waved her back down with a limp hand.

“I just had some. Doctor’s ordering Zofran.” He tensed suddenly, and Kensi grabbed the plastic basin nearby, ready to hand it to him. Clenching his fists, he inhaled through his nose several times, his lips tightly clamped together before he finally relaxed again, his head falling back on the pillow. “God, this sucks,” he sighed.

She hated seeing him in so much pain and discomfort. Kensi didn’t know what possessed her, but before she’d fully registered the action, she’d reached out and brushed his hair back from his temple. Deeks tensed at her touch, and she started to pull back, completely embarrassed.

“Don’t stop,” he begged. “‘S only thing that doesn’t hurt right now.”

Kensi stayed frozen for a few seconds while she process the revelation that Deeks found her comforting. Slowly she slid her fingers back into his hair, carefully drawing the tips through his curls, working through the knots and tangles.

Deeks made a small sound of relief, leaning into her touch. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. She ran her knuckles across his cheek in a soft caress.

Studying his now peaceful features, she knew this was something she could and would do for him. She would be here as long as he let her. Even if he wasn’t her Deeks anymore.

***

A/N: You didn’t think I was going to let Deeks off quite that easy did you? At least he has Kensi to take care of him.

[anonkp]

Exactly the kind of hurt/comfort I needed today.

A/N: What if Deeks was injured more significantly in “Free Ride”? Let’s explore that question in my Whumptober fic of the year. Ignore any medical inaccuracies.

***

Blunt Force

Kensi raced through the halls, pushing past crew in an effort to reach the man pushing the garbage bin. Sam rushed past her, tackling the guy, and the bin tipped over, Deeks spilling out in a limp heap.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, dropping in front of him. He’d fallen at an awkward angle with legs twisted beneath him and his head tilted to the side. She hovered over him, hesitant to move his head or neck if he had any injuries. Thankfully, she could see his chest rose and fall shallowly, but evenly.

“Deeks. Deeks, can you open your eyes?” Kensi asked, unable to control the shaking in her voice. Carefully, she slipped her left hand under his head and probed the back of his skull, wincing when she felt a prominent bump just below his crown.

“Kensi,” Sam prompted from behind her.

“He’s not responding at all. He needs medical attention.” She smoothed his hair back with the tips of her fingers. It scared her to see him so still.

“I’ll alert the on-board medic and have Eric call in a med-evac,” Sam said, and Kensi nodded without looking at him, completely focused on Deeks.

***

Deeks woke with a pained grimace, instinctively tugging away from something tangled around his arm. Opening his eyes, he squinted against a bright flare of light, and after a few blinks, realized he was in a hospital.

Crap, he must have pissed off a defendant.

Wincing, fumbled at his nose and after a few tries, removed the nasal cannula, instantly feeling better without it scraping the inner tissue. With that out of the way, he took stock of his situation.

His head throbbed worse than the only time he got drunk in college and opening his eyes more than a slit made the pain spike and his stomach clench. He heard the door open, and lazily turned his head towards it, praying that whoever it was wouldn’t turn on a light.

Fortunately, the nurse who entered with a rolling cart of medical equipment kept the lights off and spoke in a low tone as she greeted him.

“Good to see you awake, Mr. Deeks. Let me just check your blood pressure and heart, and I’ll grab your doctor.”

As she placed the stethoscope on his skin, he noted the name tag displayed below her left shoulder.

“Tamara, what happened to me?”

She recorded his heart rate, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his bicep. She offered him a smile. “I wish I could tell you, but you’ll have to wait for the doctor. You just rest for now.”

“You can’t even tell me how I bumped my head?” he pressed, turning up the charm as much as he could in his current state.

“Sorry, no chance, darling. I’ll come check on you in a little while. Maybe I’ll even bring you some jello.”

“Well, that is my favorite,” he commented with a wan smile. The thought of eating sounded awful right now.

Tamara left, and he leaned back, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to ignore how truly awful he felt. He let his thoughts drift to the last thing he remembered, but all that came to mind was something involving spinach.

The last case he’d worked involved a known drug dealer. No, a DV case. He rubbed his temples as his thoughts and memories ran together in a dizzying, confusing mess.

***

Kensi had been waiting for Deeks to regain consciousness for the better part of a day. He’d been through CAT scans, and MRI, and numerous other tests to ensure he didn’t have serious brain damage. So far they’d all come back with minimal signs of injury, which was a relief, but she wouldn’t breathe easily until he woke up.

She’d spent the morning pretending to read a book one of the nurses gave her—she hadn’t processed a single word of it—and staring at Deeks, silently pleading with him to wake up.

At lunchtime, the lead nurse had convinced Kensi to grab something for herself while she checked on Deeks. Kensi reluctantly agreed, running down to the vending machine rather than the cafe for a pop tart, which she ate cold before heading back to his floor.

As she stepped off the elevator, the nurse flagged her down. Kensi’s stomach sank and she thought she might be sick or faint as she rushed over to her.

“Agent Blye, Detective Deeks is awake,” she said, offering Kensi a smile.

“Oh my god,” Kensi whispered, pressing her hand over her mouth. “Is he ok? Did he say anything?”

“He’s conscious and responsive, but the doctor will need to examine him to know more,” she responded not unkindly. Kensi frowned at the vague answer and the nurse clarified, “It’s good news. Why don’t you go on in. Just remember to be gentle since he’s likely to be sensitive to light and sound.

“Of course. Thank you, Tamara.”

Kensi opened the door stepping into the dimmed room. Deeks turned his head, squinting at her through the slits of his eyes.

“Deeks,” she said, relieved to see him indeed conscious and apparently alert. “I’m so glad you’re awake. How do you feel?” She stopped at the side of his bed, resting a hand on his arm before removing it just as quickly.

He followed the movement with a confused frown. “Hi,” he said, voice throatier than usual. “I’ve been better. Have we met before? My memory’s a little shaky, but I’m pretty sure I’d, uh, remember a gorgeous brunette.”

Tilting her head, she gave him a measuring look, then folded her arms across her chest as she recalled the last time he’d been in a hospital bed. “Deeks, this isn’t funny. Stop messing around.”

“Believe me, I wish I was joking, but I don’t have any idea who you are,” he insisted.

“I’m Kensi. Kensi Blye,” she tried out of desperation. There wasn’t a hint of recognition in his eyes though. He stared back at her with a growing look of dismay, and licked his lips, lifting a hand to drag his hand through his hair before he apparently remembered it wasn’t a good idea.

“Well, this is new,” he muttered to himself. “I guess this explains why I can’t remember what I had for breakfast or my last case.”

He sounded so perfectly like her Deeks, his upper lip quirked in a half-smile as he stared up at her. He was as friendly as ever, but as he would be to a potential witness they met on the strange. Not his partner of three years.

She paced a few steps away, leaning against the nearest wall. “Ok, so what do you remember?”

Leaning his head back, he squinted as though the effort of thinking physically hurt. “Uh, my name is Martin A. Deeks. Most people call me Deeks, but some call me Marty. I am a public defender for the LA county court system and I like to surf,” he said, nodding as he said each point.

Kensi suddenly felt like her knees might give out, and she quickly grabbed onto the back of the chair next to her. Deeks hadn’t just forgotten her, but entire years of his life.

“Are you ok?” he asked, because of course even with a concussion and amnesia, he still picked up on her distress.

“Um yeah.” She awkwardly tugged on the hem of her shirt. How the hell did she break this kind of news to him. She supposed she could let his doctor handle it, but that seemed cruel. Not to mention, cowardly.

“I take it you know something I don’t. What exactly happened to me?”

Kensi inhaled deeply before she took the plunge. “Um, this is going to be difficult, but you were hit in the back of the head.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that out from the pounding headache and ostrich egg sized bump. What else?”

Suddenly standing felt to impersonal for this conversation, so she pulled the chair up to the side of his bed, sitting on the edge with her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“Deeks, you are not a lawyer. Well, you are, but you don’t practice anymore. You’re a detective with the LAPD,” she told him.

He took the revelation remarkably well, barely showing any reaction other than a slight widening of his eyes and flaring of his nostrils.

“Wow, ok. That’s, uh, that’s unexpected,” he said on a breathy laugh. “What year is it?”

“2012.”

“Crap,” he muttered, rubbing both hands over his face.

Kensi looked away, uncomfortable with his distress. She wanted to comfort him somehow, but they didn’t do that. At least she didn’t. She dealt comfort in stilted words and pulled punches. Besides that, Deeks didn’t remember her.

“So this absolutely isn’t an elaborate scheme?” she checked one more time out of sheer desperation.

“Fraid not,” Deeks drawled, rubbing his chin with his knuckles. “Though that would be significantly more fun than laying in a hospital bed recovering from a concussion. with nothing to go on from the last 6 years.”

“I feel like I should say touché or something.”

He gave her an odd look at that, then huffed another laugh, lowering his eyes to his lap. “I guess you do know me.” He scrutinized her for a few seconds, squinting with obvious effort before he made a pained expression. “Are you a cop too?”

“I’m a federal agent.”

“Based on the fact that you’re talking to me, I’d guess I either did some really bad, or I work with you in some capacity,” he said. Of course his mind worked just as quickly as ever.

“You’re a liaison for my agency,” Kensi told him. “And we’ve been partners for the last three years.”

“Oh.” He blinked a couple times. “That’s unexpected.”

“Why?” It came out a little more defensively than she intended.

“I tend to get on people’s nerves. They say I talk too much, or it’s my hair,” he explained, then added with a touch of bitterness. “Or I don’t know how to leave well-enough alone. I’m a trouble-maker.”

It sounded like he was quoting someone, and Kensi winced a little at the memory of how she and the rest of the team had treated him his first several months.

“Well, it was kind of a rocky start,” she admitted. “But I have a pretty strong personality too.”

“That sounds like a story waiting to be told.” He shifted uncomfortably, squinting again. He looked paler than when she’d walked in.

“Maybe for another day.”

They were both silent for a few minutes, with Deeks looking increasingly less well. Eventually, he sighed, pushing himself up on his forearms.

“Can you help me get up?” he asked.

“I think you should wait until your doctor sees you. You probably have a serious concussion.”

“I want to see what I look like.”

“Don’t you think that can wait?” she said, completely perplexed by the unexpected request.

“Right now I’m working with the Marty Deeks of 2006. A lot could have changed since then,” he explained, shifting around with the obvious intent to get up with or without her help.

Giving a perturbed sigh, Kensi held up a hand before he could try to get out of bed himself. “Let me go ask a nurse if I can borrow one. And don’t even think of leaving that bed.” She gave him a severe look that hopefully had more effect than on an unconcussed Deeks.

It took a few minutes, but with the combination of her badge and the mention of Deeks—who apparently was popular from his previous stays—Kensi returned with a small hand mirror. Fortunately, she found him still in bed when she returned.

He had a small furrow between his eyebrows, his head turned towards the wall. Kensi faltered, once again unsure how to proceed. Last time Deeks was in the hospital, they’d had catching his shooter to focus on. Now, the way forward seemed far more nebulous.

“I’ve got the mirror,” she murmured. His head jerked at her voice, and he ran a hand over his face before turning to face her. She handed him the mirror wordlessly, watching as he positioned it in front of his face.

“Huh.”

“Not what you expected?” she asked, and he shrugged, eyes shifting back and forth.

“I guess I finally ditched the baby face,” he commented wryly. “Or maybe it’s just the beard.” He touched his jaw almost absentmindedly. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Somehow I can’t picture you without a beard,” Kensi admitted. He’d always had some facial hair as long as she’d known him.

“Yeah. Shoulder length hair too.” Now his hand drifted to the matted hair at his cheek. “I’ve had it pretty long most of my life, but I grew it out in college and I keep it out of principal. Or I guess kept.”

His eyes took on that distant look again and Kensi guessed the full weight of the situation had finally hit him.

“Well, you can always grow it out again. If you want.”

He shook his head slightly in response. “I’m not sure it would fit anymore,” he murmured.

“Deeks, I—”

A firm knock on the door interrupted Kensi, though she had no idea what she would have said in an attempt to reassure him.

“Mr. Deeks, I hear you’ve rejoined the waking world,” his attending doctor, Dr. Lesley said. She nodded to Kensi before focusing her attention on Deeks again.

“Yeah. It’s been a wild ride so far,” he responded dryly.

“I’ll let you have a few minutes,” Kensi told him, hurrying out. Maybe she was a coward, but she couldn’t sit through Deeks finding out the full extent of his amnesia.

She headed for a restroom, locking herself inside. In the tiny room, she sank to the ground, and quietly sobbed, mourning the loss of everything she and Deeks had shared.

***

A/N: Part 2 to follow soon.

[anonkp]

@ejzah So happy you got this opportunity! And glad you overcame your nerves- I know the feeling. Thanks for bringing up @wikideeks with him, and sharing the info on the FLETC piece. It’s mind-boggling to think TPTB read my rant! And that Eric appreciated it.

As promised, here is a summary of my experience at Epic Cons Chicago and meeting Eric! I’m including some of the pictures I took (with poor attempts to censor my face). Heads up, this is a long post.

I started off early in the morning with a long drive since I’m a scaredy cat and avoid the expressway as much as possible. The convention center was very full when I arrived and it took about 50 minutes for me to register because the process didn’t seem well-organized, so that wasn’t the most fun.

But after that, I was on my way to watch Eric’s panel! The panel he appeared on, had actors from several different shows, so he wasn’t asked that many questions. As usual though, he was charming and disarming. One fan asked everyone what word they would use to describe their character and I believe Eric chose “fearless vulnerability”, which is technically two words, but so very in character for Eric. I always love listening to him talk about Deeks and the depth that he infused into the character.

I have a few poorly filmed videos from the panel that I can share if you message me. I’d rather not post them just in case my account would get deactivated again. I thought of asking a question myself, but chickened out.

After that I had a very long break before my next event, so I got some tacos from a little place inside convention center. I’d give them a 5/10. They were overpriced, pretty tiny, and overall mediocre.

Now on to the really good parts!

Next I attended a meet and greet with Eric. I was super nervous leading up to it, and kind of regretted the tacos at that point. About ten of us were ushered into a small private room with chairs set up in a circle. We were instructed not to take any videos, picture, etc, before the start, so I don’t have any additional content. Eric came in a few minutes later and ended up sitting one seat over from me (😱), which was pretty darn distracting for me.

After telling us he’d never done a meet and greet before, answered several questions and chatted with us. One of the things that really struck me was just as with every video and interview I’ve seen over the years, is that Eric was so genuine, honest, and generous.

In answer to questions, he talked about the last few seasons and why there were some irregularities. Such as that the show was supposed to end after season nine and each season after that was considered a bonus and based on ability to form a tight budget. He also confirmed that none of them knew what was in “the box” aside from possibly Shane Brennan.

The greet part of the event went by far too quickly, and before we knew it, one of the volunteers announced it was time for the selfie portion. Fortunately, another fan noticed I had been trying to ask a question and spoke up for me.

Before I asked my question, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoutout wikiDeeks first. Eric really lit up and expressed how much he appreciated the hard work and thought put into the writing and contributions. He brought up an episode many fans had issues with (we figured out it was probably from the FLETC episode that shall go unnamed), and said he showed a piece of wikiDeeks writing to the writers/TPTB and basically said that it was deeper and better writing. I believe that might have been @anonkp’s wonderful work! In general, he was very appreciative and complimentary of everyone at wikiDeeks. He’s so very gracious!

We were really short on time, but I did get to ask the question “what would you change about Deeks if you could?” Eric couldn’t come up with a response on the spot, so he asked me the same question in return. I told him I didn’t think anything needed to be changed about Deeks, but didn’t always enjoy how silly he was written in later seasons.

Eric shared that he tried to play those moments in a way that put Deeks in on the joke instead of being the butt of the joke as much as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t always have that luxury.

During our conversation, Eric was very engaging and attentive. For those couple minutes, I forgot to be nervous because he made the atmosphere so comfortable. It felt like he genuinely cared about what I was saying. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to emphasize how much I appreciate Eric’s acting and portrayal of Deeks.

After that, it was selfie time! When it was my turn, Eric bent down to my level (oh my lord he’s tall), naturally in my usual awkward way, I bent down too. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Eric saw it as charming rather than incredibly silly and awkward. Hey, at least I made him laugh, right?

He’s so beautiful!

If any fans on here were present for the meet and greet, please let me know if I forgot anything or misremembered events. My memory is often faulty.

I also chose to get a professional shot with Eric and for that one I got a hug! I’m still not over it yet.

It was a really long day and a lot of driving, but so worth it for the chance to meet and talk with Eric. And, I’m pretty sure I came out this experience even more of a fan of Eric than ever.

[anonkp]

This is delightful.

You Had Me at Jack, Part 6

***

Deeks kicked the bedroom door open, unsurprised when he found Tracey bent over the dresser, rifling through the drawers. She spun around, eyes widening as her hand strayed to the top of her dress.

“Jack, what are you doing?” she asked, voice missed with fear and outrage. He didn’t buy it. Especially when he saw her eyes flit around the room, as if looking for a weapon or escape route.

“LAPD, down on your knees. You’re under arrest,” he ordered.

“LAPD?”

“I said get on the ground,” Deeks repeated, raising his voice and gesturing to the ground with his chin. She started to protest again, then seemed to think better of it, raising her hands in the air and lowering to her knees with surprising grace despite her short dress and heels.

“Turn around.”

Exhaling heavily, she shuffled around so her back faced him. Deeks approached her carefully, figuring she was fully capable of attacking him from this position. He clamped one of the cuffs over her wrist, feeling a small spark of regret that his instinct had been spot-on.

“If you’re really LAPD, then you’re making a huge mistake,” she spoke up. He heard a spark of anger, and something that almost sounded like superiority in her voice now.

“Oh yeah, why’s that? You gonna tell me some sob story about how you got lost in a two yard hallway? Or maybe you needed some money to find your stripper habit,” he drawled.

“No.

“Because I’m a federal agent.”

Deeks paused, with one handcuff still loose, considering the possibility. It would certainly explain her suspicious behavior; it could also be another lie.

“Oh yeah, what agency?” he asked. She twisted her neck just enough to look back at him.

“NCIS,” she answered carefully.

“The Navy police?”

“I suppose you could call it that.”

He almost smirked at the irritation in her voice.

“How do I know you’re actually an agent?” he asked, not ready to let his guard down just because she knew the name of a more obscure federal agency.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he suggested.

“Fine. Can I turn around?”

“Ok, but no sudden moves.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said sweetly, shifting around on her knees and slowly reaching down to the hem of her dress. She lifted it to mid-thigh, flashing him a smirk when his gaze followed the movement. Apparently she had some kind of hidden pocket sewn into her dress, because a moment later she had an ID in her hand, and handed it over.

“Special Agent Kensi Blye. That’s fancy.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet, flipping to his LAPD ID.

“LAPD Detective Marty Deeks. Undercover unit,” he introduced himself.

“Unbelievable,” Kensi muttered. Deeks lowered his gun and she stood, holding out her cuffed wrist. “Would you mind.”

“Right. Sorry about that, but I thought you were getting ready to stab me with my own knife,” he explains, quickly unlocking it. “Speaking of, why did you crash my case tonight?”

“My team is investigating a murder.” Kensi lightly rubbed her wrist, then tugged her dress into place.

“Who’s?”

“Mark Jackson. He was in frequent contact with you.”

“Damn. Well, that makes things more complicated,” he sighed. “Mark was an inside contact. And not a bad guy.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Kensi asked incredulously.

“Hey, I’ve been under for weeks. You’re the new guy here. I’ll have to explain what’s going on to my boss before this goes any further.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” she admitted. “I just have one question. How often do you go undercover at strip clubs? Cause it seemed to come pretty naturally to you,” Kensi Blye said, chin tipped up in a clear challenge. Deeks chuckled, mildly impressed.

“I’m glad you appreciate the effort. It takes a lot of body oil and Velcro,” he replied easily, grinning down at her. “My question is, how much time do you spend propositioning random dancers?”

She gaped at him for a second, making a shocked noise. “That was for the—I’m undercover too, you know.”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he assured her. “It was pretty obvious you were freaking out when I suggested the lap dance. Though the whole Titanic bit was a nice touch.”

Her cheeks flushed unexpectedly, and he titled his head, instinctively leaning closer.

“Wait, that was the truth?” This time he couldn’t hold back an ecstatic grin as she fidgeted briefly, then threw her shoulders back.

“Maybe it was. For the record, you look nothing like Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“Uh-huh, is that why you, uh, kissed me like that on the couch.” Her eyes dropped to his lips. “A couple more seconds and you would have hit home plate,” he pointed out, dropping his voice a little as he dipped his head towards her.

“I thought you were a criminal, and I was just doing my job,” she insisted. “You know what, I need to call my team.“ She held up her cell phone, easing past him.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Agent Blye.”

[anonkp]

The answer is Always. I’ll always like another round of Stripper Exotic Dancer Deeks.

You Had Me at Jack, Part 2

***

Deeks sighed to himself, working a bit more hair product through his hair and combing it into place. He could hear the opening beats of the routine before his solo dance, which meant he had approximately four minutes to finish getting ready. He checked his reflection one more time, adjusting his suspenders, satisfied with the overall effect. Not that it would matter all that much since he’d lose the shirt within the first minute of his routine.

When his LAPD supervisor first suggested Deeks go undercover as a stripper—exotic dancer—Deeks has sincerely thought it was a joke. It turned out Lieutenant Bates was completely serious, and soon Deeks had been establish at “Love and Lust as Jason Wyler, a man who wasn’t afraid to shake his hips and wear tear-away pants for the right price. In between said dances, Deeks was supposed to uncover a suspected smuggling ring.

He’d thought playing a homeless man for the better part of a month sucked. Now he was beginning to yearn for his smelly coat and requisite shopping cart. Artie never got mauled by horny people on a nightly basis.

Ok, maybe it wasn’t quite that bad; most people stayed within the guidelines of the club. He got along well with the other dancers and waitstaff as well. The parading around half-naked in front of hoards of people he could have without. His fellow officers would joke, and had when they found out about this cover, he’d found his calling.

As much as he disliked it, Deeks had successfully curated a persona to go along with his dance moves and now had enough of a following that he wasn’t in danger of getting fired.

The last couple notes of music filtered in from the main room along with the usual clapping and shouting, so Deeks got up, maneuvering around other dancers hanging out or getting changed.

“Good luck out there, Jack,” a tall guy in tight pleather pants said. Deeks winked at him, putting on a little extra swagger.

“Thanks. I’ll try to save you a couple ones.”

He waited to be announced before taking his spot in the middle of the dark stage. It didn’t take much to fall into the rhythm of the music. Cheesy as it was, the audience loved the nod to Titanic, and he played into it, holding a woman’s gaze for an extra second, returning a smile.

As he worked the room, his eyes landed on a stunning brunette sitting almost in the center of the audience staring at him. She didn’t seem to notice his attention; her mouth open in a vaguely stunned expression. Deeks concealed a smile, moving to the other side of the stage. Every time he looked her way, her eyes were glued to him. When he finished with a particularly enthusiastic hip thrust at the end of the stage, he sought out the mystery woman, and winked.

She stiffened in surprise, and he was 99% certain that if he’d been closer, she’d be blushing. Tucking that away for later, he held his post for a few more seconds before standing and working his way around the stage, giving his enthusiastic fans a chance to throw money his way. With a final smile, he dashed backstage.

Grabbing a spare shirt, Deeks threw it on, taking a back route to the bar. He had a ten minute break before he needed to get out on the floor—his least favorite aspect of this job.

“Can I have a water, Marie?” he asked the bartender, a petite woman with blonde curls piled in a messy bun. She rolled her eyes and passed him a glass along with a basket of fries.

“You looked like you used a lot of energy out there,” she drawled.

“Oh, you take such good care of me.”

“Little good it does me.” She shook her head, stealing one of the fries before he had a chance to dig. “Eat up before they turn into styrofoam.”

Deeks blew her a kiss, knowing she flirted without any intent. Turning on his barstool toward the stage, he surveyed the crowd around him. Six dancers were gyrating to a Lady Gaga song, a man and woman sang along in an off-key pitch, and a bachelorette was in the middle of receiving a lap dance to the loud encouragement of her friends.

Automatically, he searched for the brunette from earlier. He found her in the same spot as earlier; from this angle, he hand a good side view. She sat straight, shoulders back, chin held high. More importantly, she hadn’t looked towards the dancers a single time. Her gaze scanned across the room, stopping occasionally, and he froze because he recognized that movement.

She was casing the place.

Forcing himself to relax again, Deeks kept an eye on her as he sipped at his water. The longer he watched her, the more he was certain she hadn’t come for the entertainment. When she reached the bar side of the room, he didn’t look away, waiting until she spotted him, her eyes widening in surprise momentarily. He raised his glass invitingly, and after a second of hesitation, she left her table, winding her through the tables towards him.

***

A/N: So are you liking another round of Stripper Deeks?

[anonkp]

Excellent work. Love that Sam respects him in the end, very satisfying.

A/N: A random little dive into Deeks’ thoughts as he returned to NCIS in season five and tried to pull himself together. I’m not quite sure this is as cohesive as I’d like.

***

Survivor

Deeks had told Nate he wasn’t sure why being tortured by Sidorov sent him into such a spiral. Why he suffered from nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia from this incident and not another. With a bit more distance, he knows the answer.

He’s been battling traumatic events his whole life. From his dad beating him and his mom, to shooting Gordon in self defense, to dozens of near misses in the undercover unit, it makes sense that his mind finally gave in.

He remembers when he was eleven and at one of his mandatory counseling sessions. His therapist, a nice enough woman who in retrospect seemed a little too emotionally effected by his story, told him how brave and strong he was. At the time he’d wanted to tell her that he didn’t feel brave, or strong, or dangerous, or any of the attributes people had applied to him in the weeks since he shot his dad.

He’d felt scared. Guilty. Angry at times.

Over the years, he’s gone to therapy more times that he can recall, but it’s never really worked. You had to have trust for that to happen. Even with Nate, he knew his deepest fears and revelations would likely be reported back to Hetty.

So yeah, it was only a matter of time before the cumulative trauma broke him. He’s actually a little surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

His return to NCIS post surprise dental work and the subsequent summer spent piecing himself back together has been uncertain at best. Callen watches him to see if he’s going to freeze and mess up. Kensi watches with thinly veiled concern, hyper-attuned to every little change and new quirk, every potential sign of PTSD. In a way, he’s grateful that he finally has people concerned about him, even if it goes back to his ability to shoot a gun and root out bad guys.

For the first few weeks back, every morning is a fight to get up and go back to the place that caused the most recent pain instead of crawling into bed and shutting out the world. He forces himself to play the clown as expected, threaten when needed, shoot that damn gun again. He does it every day, and eventually it becomes more natural again. Because fighting back is all he’s ever known.

Sam tells him he’s never met anyone stronger than Deeks. He shot his dad to save his mom. He endured torture to save Michelle. Because he’s a survivor.

He’s not brave, he’s not strong. He just survives.