A Different Kind of Hero
"You can't be serious Deeks!" Sam yelled across the room as Deeks walked in dressed in a complete Spider Man costume that left nothing to the imagination. He got a couple of wolf whistles from some of the female staff and Callen choked on his coffee he was laughing so hard, while Kensi just admired the view of his obvious assets. Sam, however, thought it was the silliest thing in the world to be parading around in costume, no matter how close to Halloween it was.
"What, Sam?" Deeks said spreading his arms wide. "I think I look pretty damn good. Besides, Hetty said we all had to come to her party in costume or we would have to do extra paperwork for a week."
"He's got a good point Sam," Callen laughed.
"I thought it would be great if all of us came as one of 'The Avengers'", Deeks said with a serious look on his face.
"And who would they be, Deeks?" Sam said crossing his arms and staring in disbelief at a grown man in red and blue tights, twirling a rubber spider web.
"Sam, don't tell me you never read Marvel Comics?" Kensi asked with a shocked look on her face.
"I was busy with a real life," Sam replied, but they could see he was trying very hard not to smile.
"With my Spidey senses, this is the perfect costume for me," Deeks said as he did a three-sixty turn. "And Kensi can come as Spider Women."
"No way, Spider Boy," Kensi said defiantly. "I'm coming as Ms. Marvel."
"Ooh, yeah, now there's a nice costume," Deeks said with an even bigger smile and a devilish look on his face, contemplating the fun he planned on having after the party.
"Sam, you can come as the Hulk," Callen joined in, starting to enjoy the idea of seeing Sam painted green.
"And who will you be, G?" Sam asked, still trying to keep his composure in the midst of the nonsense going on all around him.
"I believe I might come as Captain America," Callen said, starting to enjoy the camaraderie. And that finally got a laugh out of Sam, who decided it might be fun to see his partner dressed in a skintight superhero outfit. He needed some new material.
"Very fitting, Mr. Callen," Hetty commented with a smile as she came in. "I'm glad to see you are all getting into the spirit of things." As she headed for her office, she called back over her shoulder to Deeks, "I'll let you drive my new Jaguar, Mr. Deeks, if you stay in that costume all day. I'm beginning to enjoy the view."
The team exploded in laughter, except for Deeks, whose face had taken on the shocked look of child-like embarrassment.
He was saved by the ring of his cell phone, which he answered almost immediately. The team continued to laugh at his expense, until they saw the look on Deeks' face. It went from comical embarrassment to stunned sorrow in an instant. His hand raked through his hair as tears formed in his eyes. He stood dejectedly listening to the caller, nodding and mumbling words that no one could make out until the call ended. Then he looked briefly in the teams' direction before going silently to Hetty's desk.
"I need to take the rest of the day, Hetty," he said quietly as he stared vacantly across the room.
"Are you okay, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked as she came around the desk to look up into his face.
"Not really," he answered, finally looking at her and seeing only kindness and concern. "A woman who means a lot to me is dying and I need to see her."
"Take all the time you need, Mr. Deeks," she said as she gripped his arm briefly.
"Thanks Hetty." He walked slowly out of the room with his head down.
Kensi followed him out.
"What was that all about, Hetty?" Callen asked.
"I'm not sure, Mr. Callen," she answered, shaking her head. "But, if he wants us to know, I'm sure he'll tell us."
...
"Deeks, what's wrong?" Kensi asked when he came out of the locker room dressed in jeans and a white shirt.
"I need to go, Kensi," he answered hurriedly as he headed toward the parking lot. "I'll talk to you tonight." Then he quickly left her standing there, worried and slightly upset that he had shut her out.
"What's up with him, Kens?" Sam asked as she walked back into the bullpen.
"He wouldn't tell me," Kensi said.
The crazy nonsense they had been laughing about was forgotten as uncertainly and curiosity settled around them.
...
He sat in the car for a long time, staring at the house he remembered from so long ago. It was run down now, the yellow paint was chipped and faded and that made him sad and feeling a little guilty. There used to be roses along the white picket fence and a large lemon tree next to the porch. He always thought the house looked just like her, always sunny and warm. Coming here back then, had been like entering a different world. This house had been a safe haven for him and she had been his lifesaver so many times.
...
"If you tell me why you stole Jaime's lunch, Marty, I'll let you go home," she said as she looked down at the skinny little boy with long, straggly blond hair and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. He wouldn't look at her and that was starting to make her mad. He was usually quite talkative, at least with the kids, but he was always silent with her. She remembered the first time she saw him laughing in the halls on the first day at her new school. He was acting like a complete goofball, jumping around and teasing his friends. When she discovered he was in her fifth grade class, she thought he would be a great kid to have around. She enjoyed kids that had lively imaginations and who got along well with people. They are the easy ones. How wrong she had been about Marty Brandel.
She sat down at the desk in front of him so she could see his face. "So, do I have to call your parents, and tell them what you did?" she asked in her best teacher's voice. The reaction she got was immediate as she saw raw fear fill his eyes.
"No!" Marty said loudly. "Please don't. I'll do anything you say, Mrs. Joyce, just don't call them, please." His voice was barely audible as he finished pleading with her. She could see the panic building and he was trembling as she put her hands over his. He jerked away from her touch and a look of distrust lurked behind his frightened blue eyes.
"Okay, Marty," she said quietly. "I won't call them." She saw him let his breath out slowly as he brushed the dirty hair out of his eyes. He usually looked pretty clean, but this week she had noticed how disheveled he had looked and she was pretty sure he was wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday.
"Do you want to tell me something, Marty?" she asked softly, patiently waiting for him to look at her.
"No," he mumbled, looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry I took his lunch," His voice was hesitant and at the end he glanced at her quickly with a softer look in his eyes and then he returned to looking down at his hands.
"Did you take his lunch because you didn't have one of your own?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her then, staring at her with those big blue eyes, and she could see him calculating whether he could trust her or not.
"Can I go home now?" he asked. The openness that had briefly flared in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hard wall of protection. It made her sad, and she made up her mind to find out as much as she could about this wild child's home life.
...
He remained in the car, staring at the house as his childhood memories flooded in and it was all he could do to keep his emotions under control. Then he heard the screen door slap shut and saw Annie come down the steps, stopping in the yard to light a cigarette. Her hair was short now, and looked tangled and uncombed and it surprised him. He had run into her at a Starbucks a few of years ago and she had been doing well and had looked amazing. He smiled, remembering the crush he'd had on her when he was ten and how she had teased him about it as they reminisced over lattes. Her mom had been fine then and he had promised to visit, but never got around to it.
He got out of the car and walked slowly across the street. She saw him coming and quickly put out the cigarette and he saw her smile. When he reached her, he could see the tears standing in her eyes and he pulled her into a hug. She clung tightly to him as the tears spilled down her face and she sobbed into his chest. They stood that way for some time, and he finally felt his own tears start and he pulled back from her.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, looking at the deeply saddened face of an old friend.
"No," she said as she wiped her tears with her sleeve and turned away from him to look back toward the house. He stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, waiting for her to stop shaking as more tears fell.
"Why didn't you call me sooner?" he asked quietly and she turned quickly with an angry look on her face.
"She didn't tell me, Marty," she said harshly. "I found out two days ago. She said there was nothing I could do and that she didn't want to upset my life. Can you believe that?"
She sounded bitter and he felt sorry for her. Her mom was the only family she had left and he knew how it felt the first time you realized you were going to be alone in the world. He had just been alone longer.
"Annie, it sounds just like her, and you know it," he said, and he smiled briefly at her as she nodded in agreement.
"Marty, she asked for you as soon as I got here," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry, I should have called you right away."
"It's okay, Annie, I understand. Sometimes you just want to keep them all to yourself for as long as you can." Marty said, remembering his own mom's passing.
...
She was walking in from the parking lot when she spotted a couple of kids next to the back door of the cafeteria. She yelled at them to go to class and one of them took off running. The other one was crouched down on the steps and as she got closer she realized it was Marty Brandel, the kid who had been in trouble just a few weeks ago.
"What are you doing this time, Marty?" she asked as she walked up next to him. The smell hit her first. He had vomited all over the landing and he was shivering and trying to wipe his face with the end of his shirt. As he pulled it up to his face, she could see dark bruises across his ribs. She caught her breath sharply and could feel anger rise in her throat. I should have known, she thought.
"I'll clean it up, Mrs. Joyce, I promise." He was crying and trying to get up and back away from her as quickly as he could. She saw him flinch when she reached out to try and help him up and he fell back against the door and gasped in pain.
"Marty, I'm not going to hurt you," she said as calmly as she could. His eyes looked wild and before she could say anything else, he bolted past her and ran out of the schoolyard.
She stopped by the principal's office on her way to class to report what she suspected and he agreed to look into it. She knew Marty wouldn't be in class today, but she was determined to find a way to help him. It took her almost an hour to truly calm the anger she felt.
...
She was sitting up in bed reading when Deeks came into the room. She had lost most of her hair, so she was wearing a beret, cocked at a jaunty angle, and it was perfect for her. She'd once told him she had always wanted to visit Paris but that she'd never had the chance. He always thought teachers weren't paid enough, and she was the reason he believed that.
"Marty, you look wonderful," Mrs. Joyce smiled and opened her arms for a hug. She was so thin he was afraid to hug her too hard. "I like the whole beard and long hair thing you've got going there. I bet the women like it too."
"It's been too long, Mrs. Joyce," he said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.
"Why do you still call me that after all these years?" she asked softly. "You know my first name and we've been friends a long time."
"Habit I guess, and because it seems disrespectful to call you anything else." he replied with a small smile. "Besides, you never looked like a Sarah to me."
"What's that supposed to mean Marty Deeks?" The teacher's voice was still there when she wanted it to be and it made him laugh.
"Sarah always sounded too old fashioned for you," he told her as he took her hand.
"You're still a weird kid, Marty Deeks." She smiled and it made him tear up suddenly and he didn't know if he could hold it together. He quickly wiped his eyes and she looked at him silently until he could collect himself.
"Do you have a steady girlfriend yet?" she asked, always knowing how to distract him.
"Yeah, her name is Kensi," he said with a crooked smile. "You'd like her, Mrs. Joyce, she looks out for me like you used to do and she's tough just like you."
They sat and talked for a while about Kensi and police work until he realized how tired she was getting. He said his goodbyes and told her he would come back tomorrow and he kissed her cheek, holding back tears until he got outside.
...
Marty wasn't in school for three days after she found him throwing up outside the cafeteria. She talked to the principal about it and he said he would call his parents to see if he was sick. When she got back to the classroom after lunch, one of the sixth grade students, Ray Martindale, was waiting outside. He had a reputation as a tough, wise-ass troublemaker. But she also knew he was a friend of Marty's.
"Do you need something Ray?" she asked as she opened the door and let him in. He went inside quickly and she could tell he was a little nervous.
"You need to leave Marty Brandel alone, Mrs. Joyce," he said with a hint of anger and bravado in his voice that she definitely didn't care for.
"And who are you to tell me what to do about one of my students?" Her voice was intimidating and she saw him back up against the wall and stuff his hands in his pockets. He was beginning to look less tough by the minute.
"I'm his friend," he replied, ducking his head down and looking at the floor.
"I know you are Ray," she told him. "But why should I leave him alone? He looks like he could use a little help."
"Because you're getting him in trouble," Ray answered angrily.
"With who, Ray?" she needed to hear the answer to confirm what she already suspected.
"His dad," Ray said dejectedly. "Every time the school calls, his dad beats the crap out of him." His voice became harsh by the time he finished the sentence.
She sat down at her desk and looked over at Ray and she suddenly felt such overwhelming sadness and regret. A child she was trying to help was suffering more because of her and she didn't know what to do about it.
"Where has he been for the last few days, Ray?" she asked.
"Hiding out at my house," he said as he moved toward the door.
"What if we could get him taken away from his dad?" she asked, feeling a little odd that she was seeking advice from a sixth grader.
"He won't leave his mom," Ray said. "He'll call you a liar, if you try that, and so will I."
"Did he ask you to talk to me?" She asked.
"No, but he was pretty sure you were the one who was checking up on him," Ray informed her. He started to leave, but stopped and said before walking out, "Not too many people care about kids like Marty and me." Then he was gone.
...
Kensi left a message for the fourth time and was starting to get worried. She knew he was upset about something and she wanted to be there for him. But if he wouldn't let her in, she would just have to be patient, and that had never been one of her strong points. She decided to go down to one of his favorite surfing spots, hoping she would find him there by chance. He usually surfed if he was working something out; it helped him calm down.
She walked slowly along the wave line, shading her eyes from the low sun as she searched for his familiar form among the few surfers still out on the water. The surf was quiet today, so she didn't hold out too much hope he would be at this spot, but then she saw him sitting on his board, far out past the break. His head was down and she knew he hadn't come here for the waves. She watched him float there in his own world of solitude, isolating himself from everyone like he used to do when she had first come to know him. She recognized then that whatever had happened this morning had something to do with his childhood. He still hadn't shared much about his history, but then again neither had she. Sometimes things were so painful you just wanted to tuck them away somewhere in the back of your mind and hide them even from yourself. But one of those painful memories must have come out of hiding and he was dealing with it the only way he knew how.
She watched him for a long time, until he finally caught a wave just as the sun was slipping below the edge of the sea. His form was fluid and graceful and she realized she was holding her breath. Her heart began to race as he got closer and the thrill of seeing the wind catch his hair made her smile. He saw her and waved and her stomach flip-flopped like a schoolgirl on her first date. He hugged her and then shook his wet head, showering her with salty water and causing her to give him a quick punch in the arm as she laughed. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were so sad that she pulled him close as they walked up the beach to where he had left his things.
"Sorry I left in such a hurry this morning," he said as he dried himself off. He didn't look at her when he said it and she got the impression he wasn't going to tell her about any of it.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She responded.
"I'm still in shock, I think, so I'm not sure I can talk without breaking down." He threw himself down on the still warm sand and stared out at the dusky sky, wrapping his arms around his knees as he pulled them to his chest. She knelt behind him and began to massage his neck and shoulders slowly until he leaned back into her, resting his wet head on her chest and sighing deeply. She wrapped her arms around him and they sat silently together until it was almost dark.
"A teacher who helped me when I was a kid is dying," he said softly. "She cared about me when I thought no one could, and she gave me a place to hide when I needed it."
"She sounds like a super teacher," Kensi murmured in his ear, then kissed him gently on the neck.
"She was a real hero to me," he whispered and she could tell he was having trouble dealing with the idea of losing her.
"I'd like to meet her," Kensi told him as she tightened her hug.
"Come with me tomorrow," he said and she kissed the top of his head and rested her cheek in his damp unruly hair.
...
She was walking across the front lawn of the school with her daughter, Annie, when she saw a red headed man come out of the entrance. He slammed the door open, rattling the glass and then he reached behind him and jerked a young boy out, shoving him down the walkway to a car parked halfway on the grass. It took her a moment to realize it was Marty Brandel and his father. The man was tall and muscular, but his clothes were unkempt, with his dirty blue tee shirt not quite tucked in and dark smudges on his ragged jeans. Marty stumbled slightly and his father grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the side of the car, holding him there as he yelled vile names in his ear.
She could feel herself reach her boiling point as soon as she heard Marty moan in pain as his father pressed his face hard against the car window and punched him in the back. She told Annie to stay where she was, as she moved quickly toward the man.
"Stop that right now!" she yelled as she got up next to him.
"Who the fuck are you, lady?" he asked roughly, turning toward her. His face was flushed and the flesh was puffy around his bloodshot eyes, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. There was rage in his eyes as he turned toward her, finally loosening his grip on his terrified ten-year-old son.
"I'm your son's teacher, Mrs. Joyce, and I want you to get your hands off of him right now!" she shouted at him furiously, standing as tall as she could. "Because if you don't let him go, I'm calling the cops."
He laughed harshly in her face, but she saw a hint of hesitation behind his unfocused eyes. She was convinced he was no stranger to the police.
"So you're the one," he said lowering his voice. There was an edge of meanest there that made her cautious and she looked quickly at Marty. His eyes were wide with surprise, as he stood frozen with his back against the car. "You keep your nose out of my family business lady, or I'll make you wish you had."
Then he yanked open the car door and started to force his son inside. Marty's eyes suddenly grew dark and his face grew determined as he slipped through his father's hands and took off running.
"You better not come home tonight you little pile of shit," his father roared. "Cause you know what'll happen."
Brandel glared at her and she glared back. She hadn't felt this angry in a long time and she wasn't about to be intimidated by a drunken child abuser. He walked around to the driver's side and jerked open the door. But before getting in he pointed at her.
"He's not worth the effort, lady," Brandel said harshly as he got in. Then he drove off, his tires squealing loudly on the quiet street.
...
Kensi could feel his hand tremble as he led her across the street and into the small yellow house. She met his friend Annie, and then she was introduced to Mrs. Joyce. They all chatted for a while and then Mrs. Joyce asked if she could talk to Kensi alone.
"You're not going to tell her embarrassing stories about me are you?" Deeks asked and looked doubtful as he started to get up to leave. "She lies a lot, Kens," he said smiling and getting a slap from his old teacher.
"Marty Deeks, out of the room," she ordered in her best teacher's voice.
"That sounds familiar," he laughed and dutifully trotted out into the living room.
When he was gone she motioned for Kensi to move closer.
"I don't have much time left, Kensi, so pardon me if I'm too blunt," Mrs. Joyce said seriously.
"I like blunt," Kensi said earnestly.
"Good. Do you love him?" she asked, and gave Kensi a tough, piercing look that surprised her. She had seemed so girly and sweet when Marty had been in the room, but she was all business now.
"Yes I do, very much," Kensi answered and she was pretty sure the former teacher would know if she was lying.
Her demeanor soften a little as she said, "I'm glad. He deserves to have someone love him. He's had so little of it in his life."
"Well, he knows how to give love and loyalty. I know that," Kensi told her. "Did he learn that from you?"
"His mother had too much loyalty, just not enough for Marty," she said bitterly. "I know she loved him, but she couldn't even protect herself, so I shouldn't have been surprised she couldn't protect him."
"He's very generous with his love," Kensi said. "He helps out at a shelter for the homeless and he's great with kids. He always sees things from their perspective."
"I'm not surprised," she smiled and looked out the window with a longing look in her eye. Then she looked back at Kensi and said, "I honestly don't know how he survived his childhood." She had tears in her eyes when she finished.
"He said you protected him," Kensi said, taking her hand. Mrs. Joyce just shook her head in reply.
"How much do you know about Marty's childhood, Kensi?" Mrs. Joyce asked.
"We really don't talk about it very much," Kensi responded, feeling slightly intimidated, which didn't happen to her very often. "I know he was abused and he told us about a few of the things that his father did to him and I know he shot his dad when he was eleven."
"You need to get him to talk about it Kensi," she told her vehemently. "Don't let him keep it hidden away or it will haunt your whole lives together." Then she smiled softly and calmed down.
"I was his fifth grade teacher." she began, "I discovered early on that he was living in hell at home and I tried to help him, but it wasn't easy. It took me almost half a school year to get him to trust me and talk to me about what he was dealing with. He was a tough little boy in a lot of ways, but he was no match for his father. I did what I could."
...
The day before Christmas break she found him standing next to her car in the teachers' parking lot. He was wearing a ratty old sweatshirt that was too big for him but he didn't seem to notice. His hair was stringy and she could see the beginnings of a black eye.
"Did your dad do that?" she asked pointing to his eye.
"Nah, I got in a fight," he said. "Ray was getting beat up by some guys, so I jumped in to help him."
"Is there something I can do for you, Marty?" she asked. She didn't want to look at him; afraid she would scare him off.
"Why did you stand up to my dad that day he came to pick me up at school?" His eyes were big and she couldn't quite decipher the look that hovered behind his pale blue eyes. Was it curiosity or disbelief? She wasn't sure.
"Why? Because he was hurting you." She was amazed he had to ask.
"People see my dad hit me all the time and they don't do anything," he replied as a matter of fact. "His best friend even joins in." He acted like it was normal. And for him, she guessed it was normal.
"Marty, what are you doing Christmas Day?" she asked as an idea swirled in her brain.
"Trying to stay out of my dad's way," he said barely above a whisper. "Holidays are usually the worst. He gets really drunk then." He spoke as he looked at the ground and she could see he wasn't used to talking to an adult about it. He started to back away, so she reached out and touched his shoulder and he stopped and stared at her, but he didn't pull away.
"If you want, and if your mother says it's okay, you're welcome to come to my house for dinner," she said lightly, quickly writing out the address and the time.
He looked shocked as he took the small note and he stared at it for some time before stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans and turning quickly away. He hadn't replied to her invitation, but at least he had taken the note.
...
"Mom?" Annie called. "That kid's standing in the yard. No wait, I think he's leaving."
Mrs. Joyce was out the front door in seconds. "Hi Marty," she said with a smile, "Why don't you come in, it's cold out here. I have hot chocolate inside." She tried to think of anything she could say that would get him inside. It was a cold and drizzly day, and he wore only a sweatshirt over his jeans. His hair was soaking wet, but it looked clean for once. He was facing away from her, holding the gate open and trying to decide whether to stay or go.
"I have a Christmas present for you." she called out to him, giving it one last shot. He turned toward her then, and she could see he was definitely curious about that. He made up his mind and closed the small gate and made his way up the walk and she quickly got him inside.
"Annie, could you bring me a towel," she called out as she led him into the warm kitchen. He walked hesitantly around the room, looking at everything with a shy look on his face. He seemed surprised when she handed him the towel. "Dry off, Marty, and I'll get you that hot chocolate."
"Hi, I'm Annie," Mrs. Joyce's daughter was a miniature version of her. She was a confident eleven-year-old with soft, curly light brown hair and hazel eyes that dominated her face. "You're a friend of Ray's, right? He's in my class." He stared at her as she chatted about school and watched her as she moved around the kitchen, and Mrs. Joyce could see a small smile begin to play around his mouth. She was pretty sure he was getting a big crush on her daughter and it surprised her. He still hadn't spoken a word.
They sat at the kitchen table and had hot chocolate and Christmas cookies. He would have eaten the whole platter if she hadn't told him he needed to save room for dinner.
"My mom used to make pretty cookies like this when I was a kid," he finally said. His hair was dry and formed soft unruly curls all over his head, softening his thin face.
"So you think you're a grown up now?" Annie teased him. He blushed and a crooked grin lit his face and his blue eyes softened.
"Sometimes I am," he said and she saw a shadow of sadness settle briefly in his eyes.
"Why don't we go in the living room and you can see the Christmas tree and get your present." His eyes widened at the mention of the present and she couldn't help but smile at his new enthusiasm.
The Christmas tree dominated the small living room and Marty stopped when he saw it, staring openmouthed at it with delight dancing in his eyes. He began to examine the ornaments closely and Mrs. Joyce wondered if his family even put up a tree.
"Here Marty," she said handing him his gift. He took it shyly, looking at her with a bit of amazement. He dropped to his knees and ripped off the paper.
"I hope you haven't read it yet," she said as he slowly flipped through the pages of "Treasure Island".
He gave her a brilliant smile that changed everything about him. The sadness and wariness disappeared with the smile and he couldn't stop rubbing his hands over the book.
"Thank you, Mrs. Joyce," he said shyly. "I love to read stories and this one looks like a good one. The pictures are cool." It was the longest comment he had made all day.
The timer on the stove went off and she enlisted the help of the two kids to get all the food to the dining room table. When she brought in the turkey, Marty's eyes became huge and she wondered if he had eaten anything other than the cookies and hot chocolate she had given him earlier. He wasted no time, cleaning his plate and asking for seconds. He and Annie kept up a constant chatter about kids at school and she realized what a funny kid he was as he told silly jokes with a crooked grin on his face.
She had never seen him smile as much as he did that day, and she was sorry when it was time for him to go home. He was very polite when he left, thanking her for the meal and for the book.
As she walked him to the gate she said, "Marty, you're welcome to come here whenever you need to. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
He nodded and his eyes were dark and serious. Then he hugged her briefly and fiercely and ran out of the gate and down the street.
...
"I liked her," Kensi said, stealing a look at him as they drove up the coast highway. He hadn't said much since they left the Joyce house. He was keeping himself tightly controlled and she wondered if that was a good thing. He pulled into a restaurant parking lot overlooking the water and turned to look at her. She saw his lip quiver as he took her hand and she thought his tight control over his emotions was beginning to unravel.
"The first time I was in her house was on Christmas when I was ten years old," he said hesitantly. "It was like another world to me, Kens, quiet and peaceful. She and Annie were so nice to me, I wasn't sure how to act. They gave me cookies and hot chocolate and it felt so warm and safe there." Tears pooled in his eyes as he remembered. "And she served this huge turkey. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I ate so much I got a stomach ache."
"Their Christmas tree was amazing," he said quietly. "My mom hadn't put up a tree for years, and when I saw the one in Mrs. Joyce's living room it looked magical. It was everything you want a Christmas tree to look like." Tears wet his cheeks and Kensi could see his mind had returned to that time so long ago. She kissed his hand as he collected himself.
"She gave me the book 'Treasure Island'." He still sounded amazed all these years later. "Kens, it was the only present I got and it's still the best Christmas I can remember. She's given me a book every Christmas since then." He smiled at the memory.
His eyes became a deeper blue as the expression on his face turned serious.
"When I left that day, she told me I could come over whenever I needed to and I believed her." His jaw clenched as he went on. "After that, whenever my dad got really drunk or had beat the shit out of me, I would go there and she would take care of me and let me sleep on the couch if I needed to spend the night. It was the only place I felt safe."
He sat back as his memories swamped him.
"I stayed with her after I shot my dad, Kens," he whispered. "My mom had to go in the hospital for a while, and Mrs. Joyce was given temporary custody of me. She was like a second mom to me, and I can't imagine life without her being there in that house."
He got out of the car and walked over to look out at the ocean. Kensi came and stood hugging him until he was ready to go. His emotions were in check now, but Kensi knew they were still raw, lying just below the surface as he tried to prepare himself for the loss to come.
...
She called him the day before she died.
"Be happy, Marty!" she said softly. "It's the best revenge and you deserve it. And marry that lovely girl of yours, she's a keeper." That last part was spoken in her teacher's voice and when he told Kensi what she'd said, he was laughing through his tears.
...
Hetty's Halloween Party went off as planned. Eric and Nell came as different colored iPods and spent the evening explaining how they made their costumes. Callen was indeed a stunning Captain America, getting several phone numbers stuffed into his belt as he wandered through the crowd. But the highlight of the evening turned out to be Sam, who showed up as Thor, complete with a long blond wig cascading out of his helmet.
"You should have come as the Hulk," Callen razzed him. "Green's your color, Sam. I'm just sayin'."
Occasionally, Hetty's voice seemed to come from everywhere as she announced different activities, and was appropriate since she told everyone she was coming as the Invisible Woman.
Deeks and Kensi arrived late. His Spider Man outfit got a number of wolf whistles, but Kensi stole the show in her gold Ms. Marvel outfit with knee high black boots and long black gloves. The four team members had their photos taken together and they did look like real Avengers. As the party continued into the night, Hetty searched until she found Deeks. He was standing alone outside by the pool. He was lost in thought when she came up next to him and he jumped when she spoke his name.
"You really are the Invisible Woman, Hetty," he said smiling.
"It comes in handy sometime." She smiled and handed him a glass of orange champagne.
"How are you, Mr. Deeks?" she asked, coming around to face him.
"I'm not sure, Hetty," he answered. "I'll miss her, but she gave so much of herself that I know I'll never forget her. She knew no fear, she just did what she knew was right."
"There are all kinds of heroes in the world, Mr. Deeks, and you had the privilege of knowing a real one."
...