I got into NCIS: Los Angeles during season 4 and have caught reruns here and there of the previous seasons. Please forgive me of any inaccuracies in regards to the show, as I haven't seen every episode yet.
This is set after season 2 episode Personal. After receiving the file and learning of his father's death, Deeks needs to see for himself that his father is really dead. What happens when he visits his father's grave? This is a look into his dark past, something I've always been more curious about.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS: LA or any of it's awesome characters.
Detective Marty Deeks watched as Hetty walked from his room, grateful he could put her down as his next of kin. He really had no one else to list. He glanced back down at the file in front of him. Part of him was relieved to see that his father had died and part of him was saddened that his father had died. He didn't know why he felt a bit of sadness. Possibly it was because his father was the only family he felt he had left in the world and this meant that he had no one. He was alone.
Oh, how Marty was wrong. He was not alone. He had a whole team to back him up, something he wasn't used to with the LAPD. More importantly, he had Kensi. She was only his partner, but he felt something more with her. There was something special about her and they shared something that went slightly beyond partners.
Staring at the file, Marty knew that he had to see for himself that his father was dead. He had to see his grave. After sitting restless in the hospital for a few days, he was finally released. It was that same day, that he finally got to enjoy one of those elusive jello cups. Kensi hardly left his side while he was in the hospital and somehow, she had always managed to intercept the food cart and steal his jello.
Kensi drove him to his apartment from the hospital. He was given some time off due to his injuries. The doctors ordered him to get rest and to make sure he didn't push himself too hard. He was also told that he wouldn't be able to surf while the wounds were still healing. That bummed him out the most. Surfing was something that calmed him. It's something he started doing and learning as a child, though his mother was against it. She thought it was too dangerous for a young child, but she saw how happy it made him to be in the water with the salt spraying in his face and the waves crashing over him. She used to joke that he was her little fish.
When they got to his apartment Kensi had offered to stay with him for a while in case he needed anything, in case he just wanted to talk. He appreciated the gesture, but told her he would be fine. He explained that there was something he had to do and that he had to do it alone. He assured her, it was nothing that he couldn't handle and that he would call her later.
Kensi had left, but she worried about her partner. After hearing that he had shot a man when he was only 11 years old, she was curious about what exactly happened. She was curious about who the man was. It wasn't something easy for Deeks to admit, that she could tell for sure, so she didn't push him on the subject. In all reality, she didn't know all that much about Deeks' past. It was something he didn't talk about.
Marty packed a small bag and headed out to his car. He drove north to Sacremento, where his father had died and was burried. Supposedly his father died of an auto accident. He didn't know the details of the accident, but he suspected his father was probably driving drunk. It was a bad habbit of his fathers, though certainly not his only bad habbit.
After nearly a 5 hour drive he arrived in Sacremento in the late afternoon. He sought out the cemetary his father was burried in and walked slowly to the grave. There was no formal headstone on the grave, just a small plaque with the words Gordon John Brandell, Born: August 8, 1954, Died: July 6, 1998. He stood, staring at the plaque for what seemed like an eternity. Memories started to flood back to him, memories of things he tried so hard to forget.
Marty sat down and let the memories flood through his mind. The first one to come was the only good memory he had of his father. He was four years old and in the hospital with a terrible fever. His mother was out talking with the doctor, while his father sat bedside holding his frail little hand. Even as a child, Marty had shaggy hair and his father tousled his hand through it. "You're going to be ok." He had said with a small smile. "You just need to relax and get some rest. How about a story Marty?" Marty nodded his head and waited for his father to continue. "One day a little boy wandered through the zoo. Somehow he had lost his parents and before he knew it, nightime had come and the zoo had closed. He was scared and didn't know what to do, so he sat and cried. Then he heard laughter behind him and turned around to see that some of the zoo animals were out of their cages. Music started and the animals began to dance. He wandered over to them and the lion, who had seemed big and scarey earlier that day in his cage, was like a big teddy bear, laughing and having a great time with the other animals. A zebra spotted the boy and invited him to join in on the fun...that was all Marty could remember of the story. His father had comforted him in a time of need, but that was the only time he could remember his father being so nice.
His father was a drinker. He preferred the hard liqour, none of that weak crap. He was a mean man and an even meaner drunk. He got violent on so many occasions. Gordon used to beat he and his mother senseless on some of the bad nights. He was careful not to hurt their faces though. He didn't want anyone to be able to see the scars and bruises from the pain he inflicted on them.
Marty's mother, Mary, was very comforting and calm. She never raised her voice. She was weak though and she lacked the courage she needed to save herself and to save her son. She let his father beat on her day in and day out. Marty used to beg her to leave him, but she loved him and she thought that despite his rage and anger, he loved her too. She didn't think there was anything better for them out in the world.
Marty remembered his mothers eyes. They were blue like the ocean and a perfect match to his own eyes. She always did her best to try and shield him from his father, but sometimes her futile attempts at protecting him were useless.
One day when his father was beating on him in one of his drunken rages, his mother had intervened. She begged and pleaded with Gordon to leave poor little Marty alone, but he only got angrier. "This piece of shit doesn't deserve the air he's breathing. He's pathetic." Those were words Marty would never forget. Finally, his mother was able to pull Gordon away from him. He was starting to slur and stumble from the drinks he had consumed. She got him settled in bed and hoped he would sleep out his anger and drunkenness. She looked at Marty with such sadness in those blue eyes. That day, the were cloudy and merky.
Mary took Marty's hand and lead him outside to the car. He remembered thinking that maybe she had finally come to her senses, that maybe they were finally leaving his father and going somewhere that they could be happy. He looked in her eyes as they sat in the car wondering what they would look like with happiness in them, but that was something he would never see.
Mary drove them to the beach. There was a little surf shop near Santa Monica pier that served the best ice cream. He remembered sharing a big bowl of mint chocolate chip with her before they went and walked the beach. He saw someone surfing and stood watching in awe. He looked at his mother and asked if he could learn to surf. He begged her for a surf board, but she thought Marty was too small and too young to surf. She thought it would be dangerous for him.
That same day on the beach, they ran into an old friend of Mary's who had just finished surfing. His name was Daniel. They talked for a short while, as Marty admired the man's surfboard. "You know, I can teach you to surf if you want Marty. I've even got an old surfboard I might even be willing to part with." Marty begged again for his mother to let him learn. Though she was against it, she could see how excited he was about learning and all too quickly gave in to him.
Marty was a quick learner and he became so graceful out on the waves. She loved to watch him. He seemed so peaceful, despite being in the rough ocean waters. It seemed like all of his worries slipped away from him when he was out on the water and she was grateful for him to have that escape from reality.
Besides surfing, Marty also became quite well at playing the violin. It was such a beautiful instrument. Kids at school used to tease him for playing such a 'wimpy' instrument as they called it. Of course, it wasn't the only thing they teased him about. He was often ridiculed for the way he dressed or the way his shaggy hair laid on his head. His parents never had a lot of money, so he often wore hand me down clothes or thrift store bargains. He was never up on the latest fad. After a while, Marty played things off with a bit of comedy. He started making jokes to help himself cope. One day another kid at school punched him and he joked "I bet your sister punches better than you do."
On another school day, he was in the gym playing dodge ball with the other students. A ball slammed into his stomach and he found himself curled up on the floor in pain. The gym teacher was alarmed and rushed to his side. Marty played it off like it was nothing when the teacher tried to raise his shirt to check for any signs of serious injury. The dodgeball hadn't struck him that hard, but when you're nursing a set of bruised ribs, even the slightest touch can cause pain. The teacher let him be, but there was a part of him that wished the teaacher had been more persistant at checking him. Maybe the teacher would have seen the bruises over his ribs and maybe the teacher would have done something to help him and his mother. Sure, he could have just told the teacher what was wrong. He could have gone to anyone at the school and told them, but something always stopped him. He worried his father would snap and do something really bad, something that he could never take back.
The truth is, that sometimes Marty feared for his life and for his mother's life. Over the months and years, his father's drinking got worse and worse and his abuse got worse.
One day after Marty's eleventh birthday, his mother took him out to Santa Monica pier for an afternoon of fun. Her friend, Daniel, had met them there. He and Marty surfed for a few hours and then he offered to take them to dinner in celebration of Marty's birthday. Marty went off to the bathroom and when he came back he over heard Daniel asking his mother why she stayed with Gordon, why she didn't take Marty and run. Her answer was the same one she always gave Marty. She loved Gordon and deep down, she knew Gordon loved her. She had no where else to go anyways and that's when Daniel told her that he could help them.
"Can you really help." Marty snuck out from behind the booth and asked quietly. Mary looked at her watch and before Daniel could respond, she was grabbing her son's arm and dragging him to the door. "I'm sorry, but we have to leave. It's late and Gordon...he..." She had looked down at Marty. "He's not going to be happy that we're late." That was the night that his life had changed forever. That was the night he stopped his father.
Gordon had empty liquor bottles scattered around the house. That, of course, was not unusual. Tonight though, he had drunken far too much and was in such a fierce rage. His brown eyes almost seemed black there was so much rage in them. He was pacing by the front door waiting for Mary and Marty to get home. It was late and Mary had not been home to cook him dinner. He filled his hunger with alcohol and when Mary got home he immediately laid into her. "Where the hell have you been?" A frieghtened Mary tried to sheild her son behind her, but it was no use. Gordon thrust her aside and snatched him up. Marty fought his father and lost. "You can't fight me, you're to weak. You'll never be anything Marty." He beat into him, punching his stomach over and over, taking the breath from him and causing such immense pain on ribs that had barely healed from his last beating. He got bored with Marty fast and refocused on Mary. She begged him to calm down. She told him that she had only taken Marty out to celebrate his birthday. "Lies, you're always telling lies. His birthday was last week. You were out with another man weren't you? I know it. You're not plotting to leave me are you? If you even think about it, don't count on Marty leaving with you." He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the bedroom.
Marty stood on shaky legs and slowly made his way to the bedroom where he could hear his mother's screams. He peaked into the room, lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. His mother was silent now. Her face was swollen and red, like it had been used as a punching bag. She seemed limp and lifeless laying there on the bed. He took a step forward and the floor creaked under his feet, getting his father's attention. "You little brat." He reached into the closet behind him, pulling out his shotgun. Marty paniced and ran to his room, fearing for his life.
At school, he had friended another boy named Ray. Their personalities were very different, but their personal lives shared many common elements. They were both victims of drunken fathers. Ray was the only person he could confide in when it came to his abuse. Sometimes he and Ray found themselves comparing scars, or battle wounds as Ray used to call them. Ray said that someday they'd have to fight back, so he had given Marty a gun. Marty hadn't a clue as to where Ray had gotten it and he almost didn't take it. He was afraid to take it. He didn't really know anything about using a gun. Ray told him the basics, which in his young mind was basically to point and shoot.
That night when his father came at him with a shotgun, Marty didn't know what to do or how to stop his father. He was terrified that he would be shot, that this would be the night his life would be taken. He remembered the gun Ray had given him and pulled it out from under his mattress. He cocked it and aimed it at the doorway to his room.
Gordon stumbled in the room, his shot gun aimed all willy nilly. He was so drunk that he couldn't see straight. When he shot, pellets from the gun went out in all directions, plastering the wall near Marty. His father tried to steady the gun so he could shoot again and that's when Marty took action. He aimed for Gordon and shot. The bullet grazed his fathers thigh causing him to fall in pain, releasing his grip on the shot gun.
The rest of that night was a blur. His mother was still alive and he remembered spending some time in the hospital. His father was carted off to jail after his wound was addressed. Eventually, he ended up in the Folsom State Prison with various charges that included child endangerment, battery, among other things.
Part of him was happy that his father was gone, but his mother was so devestated over what had happened. They were finally free and while they should have been happy about it, they weren't. His mother didn't know what to do without Gordon. She was lost without him and she blamed Marty for taking him away from them. She fell into a deep depression and one day she tried to take her own life. She had swallowed a bottle of prescription pain meds.
Until Mary got help for her depression, she was deemed to be unfit to care for Marty. He had been forced into foster care. She never did get the help she needed, at least not that he knew of. She never came for him. She never tried to rescue him from foster care and he hadn't spoken to her in years. The only thing from her that he took after being taken away from her was her name. Deeks was her maiden name. He hated his father with a passion when he was growing up, especially after that night. He didn't want to be associated with him in any way whatsoever. When he was 18 and legal, he changed his name from Martin Brandell to Martin Deeks.
As the memories came to him, Marty hadn't even aknowledged the time. Before he knew it, it was nearly dark. He took one last look at his father's grave, sadness and relief in his blue eyes. He let out a soft smile. "I grew up thinking I was pathetic and worthless because of the words you constantly drilled into my head. Whereever you are, I want you to know that I mean something. I have a life and you can't hurt me anymore. I'm done living in the past and it's time to move on with my life." With that said, Marty left. It was one of the few times that he had actually said what he meant, one of the few times he was honest and open. He stayed in a motel that night before heading back to his life in Los Angeles, the life where meant something, the life where he wasn't just some pathetic, worthless piece of shit.
He smile when he thought about Hetty and his teammates back at OSP. He thought about his life and the good things he had done as a cop and a liaison with NCIS. No, he was certainly not a worthless piece of shit.
When he got back to Los Angeles the next day and stumbled into his apartment, he found Kensi sitting on his couch. "What are you doing here? Wait, scratch that. How did you get in here?" He asked.
She smiled mischievously. "I'm a master lock pick. I came to check up on you."
"I don't really appreciate you breaking in..." Marty trailed off.
"So where have you been?" She saw the bag in his hand. "Oh I see, you were at a girls house last night weren't you? I thought you were supposed to be resting?"
"If I was, would you be jealous?" Marty asked, putting the bag down.
"What, no. Of course I wouldn't be jealous. I can get guys ten times better than you." She snapped back.
"You wish." It was this witty banter that Marty loved. He and his partner clicked so well. Sometimes he almost felt like an old married couple.
"I'm serious. Where have you been? You ok?" Kensi asked, putting the banter aside.
"Yeah, I just had some old demons to sort out, but I'm fine." That was a typical answer for Marty when he didn't really feel like talking or getting his feelings out in the open, but for once, he really did feel fine and he would continue to be fine so long as he didn't let those demons from the past haunt him any longer.
Please review. Your thoughts and comments are all welcome and appreciated. Thanks!