Deeks and Kensi are lying in bed, her head on his chest. She traces a triangular scar along his ribcage, and asks, "What's this?"
"That's from when I got shot," he answered huskily.
"No, those scars are here and here," she said, touching them briefly. "I mean this one," again tracing its perimeter.
"Oh," sighed Deeks. " That was a gift from Gordon. A kick to the ribs with the toe of his cowboy boot. I was doing the boot scootin boogie after that one!"
"Really?" Kensi sat up sharply upon hearing Deeks speak his father's name. She looked up at him, ignoring the sarcasm that meant he was trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah, really. But don't go feeling sorry for me. I had to give that up when I was 10. By the time I was 11, playtime was over. I was armed and dangerous." He paused. " Scared and hysterical was more like it." Deeks stroked her hair as Kensi laid her head back down on his chest. Deeks swallowed hard and steeled himself for the questions he was sure would come.
"Deeks, what about your mother? Surely she wouldn't just stand by and let your father "—she struggled for the right word, not wanting to use any that came to mind—"do that to you?"
"Mom was probably in the kitchen nursing her own black eye. I had learned how to get on Gordon's nerves enough to draw some of his anger my way. I was afraid he'd kill her otherwise. This way he'd split the difference, and we'd both be able to wake up the next morning. " He took a long breath, not realizing before just how much he'd needed to share this part of his life—always burying it just below the surface of his memory. Kensi's finger along the old scar was like a stone thrown into a pond, causing the memories to ripple through him, stirring dread and loathing.
"The time your father gave you this scar-" she began.
"Kens, please don't call him that…"
"Sorry," she said, sitting up and grabbing both of his hands. "When that happened, was that when you shot him?"
Deeks shook his head to clear it and took several deep breaths. "Umm, it was, um, soon after that. This was one time I couldn't hide the bruise at school, or deflect attention from it by clowning around. That usually worked. But this involved a couple broken ribs, so PE was a challenge, and uh, the gym teacher reported it to the principal who called protective services, and they had Gordon picked up. The court issued a restraining order after seeing my mom, and I thought that was that. Ray knew better, though. He watched a lot of cop shows, and he was pretty sure that restraining orders were easy for a guy like Big G to ignore. Ray's brother had several guns—which is another story—but Ray got one and brought it to me. I kept it under my mattress." Here, Deeks was breathing fast and hard, his palms sweating, and eyes vacant as he saw the memory vividly in his mind.
"Deeks, you don't have to.."
"No, I…need to…" he faltered. "A few days later, he made bail, then went and got drunk. He knew the back door didn't lock right, and we didn't have time to get it fixed, so in the middle of the night…. he started yelling my name from the kitchen. I heard my mom's voice, so I grabbed the gun and went down the hall until I could see them. She was sitting in a chair, and he was holding a shotgun to her, um head..' he struggled with emotions that he had repressed for decades. "I wanted to protect her, so I came into the kitchen, holding the gun in front of me, shaking and shaking. When he saw me, he laughed. He swung the shotgun around in my direction, probably just to scare me..but..I, …. pulled the trigger." Deeks's arms hung limply at his sides, as his breath came in jerks. "I had never stood up to him, but..I shot him. I wish didn't have to—I wish he could have been different. I wish we all could have been different, but…" his voiced trailed off as his eyes brimmed.
"Hey" began Kensi, kissing his cheek. You know that you didn't bring any of that on. He was a twisted person who had problems handling his anger. You deserved so much better."
"I hear you, and I know that, and I would say the same to someone else in the same position, but it is hard to believe that I wasn't just getting what I deserved. I was told that all of the time, and I always just thought I needed to figure out how to be different..better…make him happy and proud. I just couldn't. Want to hear something strange? When I heard he had died, I was partly relieved because I knew he hadn't come to get his revenge, but I was also a little disappointed. It meant that there was no chance to ever get it right."
Kensi sniffed, and Deeks saw her tears for the first time. He wiped her cheek with his thumb, and she grabbed his hand and kissed the palm. She looked at him adoringly and said in a tremulous voice, "You are the best person I know, and the only person I trust completely. I don't want you to be different, and you could not possibly be better. So, as much as I hate what happened to you, and I do hate it…..I am grateful for whatever road brought you to me." Deeks pulled her in and nestled his head in her neck, fingering her hair and taking in the scent of lavender as his breathing slowed.
Kensi whispered, "Hey, did that sound like a Rascal Flatts song?" They both laughed as their embrace tightened.
"Hey, what's this? Kensalina is making a joke to lighten the mood? That's very Deeks-y of you."
"You must be rubbing off on me," she smiled, looking up at him.
"I would like to be rubbing on you," he grinned.
"I thought you'd never ask," she whispered, sliding her long legs against his, and pulling him on top of her.