A/N: Hi, everybody! Well, I promised you all an NCIS: Los Angeles follow-up to Gianna, so here you are. For those of you who haven't read that, I highly advise you to. It's a prerequisite of sorts; you will not understand this if you don't read Gianna first. It's actually going to be ongoing, but I'm not quite sure how many chapters it will be. I suppose it depends on how things work out. Anyways, I did minimal research on the law for this fic, so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies. I saw some varying data and used whatever source seemed more reliable. I'm just 14 and my only resource is the internet... so...
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or NCIS. If I did, Deeks and Kensi would've confessed to their "thing" about 3 years ago...
There was a knock on Deeks's hotel room door in DC. He slowly got up from his place laying on his bed, reaching for his Berretta. He made his way to the door, careful not to make too much noise as he walked. With a since glance through the peephole, he tossed his gun back onto the unmade right side of the bed and opened the door to reveal his partner standing there. He let her inside without a word.
She entered his room quietly, the only sound being her heels knocking against the tiled floor of the hotel room's diminutive kitchen. She was wearing a black sweater and dark wash jeans, her hair down and wavy. She shot him a slight smile as he led her into his bedroom and flopped back on the bed.
"What's the probability that my father won't die in jail?" Deeks inquired.
"Why are you asking me? You're the lawyer here."
"I've asked myself too many times. I need a second opinion."
"Well, in California, the maximum sentence for a single Class C involuntary manslaughter charge with a criminal record is 15 years. With two manslaughter charges, he can face as much as 30 years – two 15-year sentences served concurrently."
"And the domestic abuse charges?"
"On average, each domestic violence charge results in at least three years of jail time and 24 months of probation for each offense. He already served time for abusing you and your mother, correct?"
"Not entirely…" Deeks replied. "He was never convicted of raping my mother. Add that to the list."
"Okay. So, if Sheila, Alicia, Jessica, and Gianna were all abused, that's five charges of domestic abuse. So that's fifteen years of jail, 120 months of probation, not to mention the 52-week mandatory batterer's program. That's a total of 46 years in jail. How old is your father?"
"Let's see… I'm 32… that'd make him 54."
"He'd be 103 by the time he gets out, if he lives that long. The life expectancy for prisoners doesn't exactly extend into a second century."
Deeks nodded.
"But, look, that's just an estimate and we haven't even considered the fact that Gianna and Jessica were minors at the time—"
"I did the math and got pretty much the same calculations," he replied. "But what if he gets a good lawyer who can dispute some of the charges? Or if the jury sees a flaw?"
"With the great Abby Sciuto's forensic prowess, the evidence will surely be damning in court. With multiple testimonies from those Brandel has abused, I doubt that any defense he could make could save him."
"I want to know that he'll never abuse anyone else."
Kensi sighed. She wasn't about to pressure him to talk about his father, knowing that Gordon John Brandel was a sensitive subject with the detective.
"Do you know who the judge is?"
"Callen said that her name was Zoey Vincent. Didn't get details."
"Should search her name—see if we can find something to strike a nerve with her. Might give us the upper hand in the case."
"In the end, Judge Vincent isn't doing the judging, Kensi. It'll be a jury."
"Yes, but if we have a judge in our favor, we're more likely to speak more and make a better case."
Deeks nodded.
"You have a laptop. Would you mind—?"
"Of course."
"Thank you."
Kensi took a seat on the bed beside him, ignoring the fact that she was, once again, next to him in a bed, not unlike their recent undercover mission as a married couple. She began her search on Judge Zoey Vincent. Scanning through dozens of worthless Google pages, it took her about fifteen minutes to find something worthwhile.
"Deeks… Deeks, look at this."
He sat up, looking at the screen of her laptop.
"That's an LAPD case report."
"Yep."
"For?"
"It says here that Zoey Vincent's half-brother, Artemis Vincent, was arrested two years ago."
"For what?"
"He was originally imprisoned for animal cruelty. Hundreds of dogs were killed in a dogfighting group that he'd organized. His sentence was 23 months in jail because it was finally named a federal offense for crossing state lines. Zoey felt as though his punishment wasn't severe enough and went to authorities, claiming that she was revealing her life's biggest secret."
"Which was?"
"When she was ten, Artemis sexually assaulted her. He was 22 at the time."
"That's terrible," Deeks muttered.
"I can't imagine a relative doing something so… unspeakable… to me. Maybe it's because I'm an only child and my father was always treated me with the upmost love, respect, and care. But it's just… wrong. It disgusts me. This Artemis guy and your father—they're complete… complete…"
"Douchebags?"
"Yeah. That."
Deeks sighed.
"That's convenient. We get the one advantage from the judge in the one subject we can't address directly."
"How so?"
"Agent DiNozzo told me that even talking about her abuse sends Gianna into panic mode. We can't have that."
"If she goes into a panic in the courtroom, we can make the jury identify with her and understand just how terrible Brandel was to her."
"But we run the risk of her health being at risk—or any of the jury seeing her as insane—both of which will affect the case negatively."
"I understand," Kensi replied. "She definitely is our first priority. If she has an anxiety attack in the middle of a trial it ends up being about Brandel and not about her."
Dees nodded slowly.
"I want to testify."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Deeks, you can't even tell me everything that happened with your father. What makes you think you'll be able to tell an entire courtroom of strangers?"
"The truth is a two-way street, Kens," he retorted.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't give me that fake innocence, Sugar Bear," he snapped, stressing one of his newer nicknames for her. "Try to tell me that you're completely truthful to me!"
"You're the one who walked away when I finally wanted to have a serious conversation with you!"
"You're still holding that against me? I thought you understood that I was trying not to take advantage of you! If I had let you finish what you were saying, I'd have come back and you'd see that our partnership was never in jeopardy! You'd assume that I was using my lies to take advantage of you! I didn't want to be unfair about it!"
"Deeks—"
"And, seriously, we've been partners for three years and you're still calling me by my last name!"
"Everyone calls you by your last name!"
"So? Sam's the only one who really refers to Callen as G!"
"That's different!"
"How?"
"Sam and Callen don't have a thing!"
Shocked by her own words, her hand sprung to her mouth.
"Kens…" Deeks murmured, his eyes widening. He stared deep into her polychrome eyes. His hand reached up, moving her hand away from her mouth and entwining their fingers. He gently placed one hand on her cheek and leaned toward her until the distance between their lips was almost indecipherable. Their lips were just about to meet when Kensi leaned back a minute distance, avoiding his eyes.
"Um… you should probably call Sheila and Alicia and Jessica and the twins and, uh, figure out a lawyer, and… yeah…"
"Yeah, I, uh, probably… you should… I need to…"
"I'll just… go…"
"Kens—"
Before he could stop her, she was out the door. He got up to chase after her, but by the time he got to the door, she had already made her way out of the hallway. Dejectedly, he shut his door and leaned back against it, sliding down to the floor and burying his head in his hands. What did he just do?
Any thoughts? Favorite lines? Ideas for upcoming chapters? Please no flames, but constructive criticism is appreciated. Thanks, everyone!
