A.N - For those who are fans of my Fifty Things: Kensi and Deeks stories, you'll recall the one chapter where Deeks was off and a temp took his place. That idea has been nagging me for a while, so I decided to go more in-depth for it. Let me know how you like it!
It was late in the afternoon, and Kensi was fit to be tied. "What part of "I got this" was not explicit enough for you?"
"Oh come on, I said I was sorry!" Deeks groaned as his partner stalked into the Mission.
She whirled around and punched him in the shoulder. "Shove it, Deeks!" she shrieked. "And no, I'm not forgiving you!"
"It's not my fault!"
"You groped my chest!"
"Kensi, come on. How else was I supposed to reach that extra magazine stashed in your clea - "
Their bickering was interrupted by the appearance of Hetty, who walked in with purpose and not a little bit of sadness. "Mister Deeks," she said. "A word, please."
"I didn't take it, break it, or otherwise do whatever it is you think I did," he quickly denied, just to be safe.
But Hetty didn't look amused. "Mister Deeks." Something in her tone made the smile on his face slip off. Deeks quickly followed the small woman to her office, leaving Kensi with a perplexed look on her face in the bullpen.
"Mister Deeks, one of your old aliases in the LAPD has been contacted."
Deeks quickly became all business. "Which one?"
"A gentleman known as Benjamin Sherman."
The scruffy detective recalled the alias. Benjamin "Basher" Sherman was a hard hitter, almost as bad as Max Gentry, and dealed in the world of narcotics. He also had quite a few aggrevated assaults to his name. Deeks hated being Basher because it brought out the worst in him, a part of him he always believed came from his no-good deadbeat father.
Hetty noticed his conflicting expressions. "Not a favored alias, I take it."
"Basher and Max may as well be brothers," Deeks said. "You wouldn't want to meet either in a dark alley." Taking a breath, he asked, "Why has Basher been called?"
"According to the LAPD, his expertise has been sought out by a drug cartel in an endeavor to bring heroin, cocaine, and other assorted drugs across the border into California." Hetty handed him the file. "The cartel in question needs Basher to provide his services to get the drugs into Los Angeles and on the streets. You are to report to LAPD tomorrow for the assignment."
A reflex made Deeks glance over his shoulder at Kensi, working at her desk. "What about the team?" he asked. "Don't you need a Liaison Officer?"
"They sent over a few files for me to make my pick of a temp." She handed him a handful of files. "Do you have any suggestions?"
He glanced through them, noting which ones he knew and which ones he thought would work. After two minutes he settled on one. "Folks. Detective Michael Folks. He's good at what he does, and the shields actually like him, you know, for an undercover. I can personally vouch for him. He's solid."
"Then I shall contact him immediately," Hetty replied. "Thank you, and please be safe, Mister Deeks."
His grin was a lopsided smirk of sass. "Hetty, when have I ever done otherwise?"
Later that night, he toyed with his cordless phone and thought about calling his partner. Doubtless she and Callen and Sam had been appraised of the change, and she probably was warring with herself to call him and demand an explaination.
Deeks knew she wasn't going to like this. Of all the team, Kensi hated this sort of change the most. So he made his decision and dialed her number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Kensi," he said, feeling a smile touch his lips at the sound of her voice. "Who got voted off this week?"
"When were you going to tell us?" she replied, ignoring his attempt at levity.
Deek sighed. "Right now. I know you don't like this idea, but it has to happen, Kens. These cartel guys are very particular and won't accept a proxy. They want Basher, so Basher has to show up."
"But we don't need a temp," Kensi insisted. "We can pick up the slack ourselves."
"This guy is okay, Kensi. For a temp," he added with a chuckle. "He'll do the job that deeds doing. Plus the LAPD actually likes him."
Her response was petulant and laced with some degree of posessiveness. "You're our Liaison Officer."
"And while it is incredibly hot to hear you admit that, this is my op." Very, very hot, his mind agreed, churning out some inappropriate images that needed him to take a calming breath before continuing. "I'll be back soon. I promise."
"Don't die."
Deeks grinned at her order. "I'll do my best. For you." Having said his piece, he hung up first.
Monty whined and nosed his hand with a cold nose. The undercover cop ruffled his trusty pet's scraggly fur. "Don't worry, boy. I'll definitely be back. She made me promise, after all."
Besides, if he broke a promise to Kensi, she'd kill him.
The next morning, LAPD Detective Michael Folks stepped in front of the innocuous Mission building, frowning as he checked his directions for the third time. This couldn't be the headquarters of the NCIS Office of Special Projects...could it? He trusted Marty Deeks, but the scruffy blonde detective was prone to practical jokes.
However, Folks's confusion was dissipated by the appearance of a very short woman in a business suit and a large brooch on the lapel of her suit jacket. Power and authority radiated from her eyes as she peered over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses at him.
If you're greeted by a impeccably dressed ninja-woman you swore wasn't standing there two minutes ago, that's Hetty. Be very polite, very professional, and very afraid for your life, Deeks had warned him. So Folks nodded a greeting to her and said, "I take it you're Hetty?"
"You're very late, Mister Folks," she responded by way of hello. "Not a very good way to begin in a new work environment."
"I wasn't sure about the location. It doesn't look like a government building."
Her smile was small and amused. "That is the point, Mister Folks. Now, shall we?"
Never question the ninja. I'm pretty sure she can kill you with air pressure, Deeks had advised. Since Deeks was prone to exaggeration, Folks kept quiet and silently fell into step behind Hetty as they entered the Mission. She led him through a training gym, offices, and up to a small alcove on the main floor. "Everyone, this is Detective Michael Folks. He'll be temporarily replacing Detective Deeks as our Liaison Officer."
Folks saw the three people inside the bullpen regard him with careful hostility. Obviously they'd rather have Deeks there, but Folks put that aside and tried to make a good first impression. "Marty's told me a little bit about you all," he admitted, walking straight to the lean man who sat next to the woman. "You're Callen, right?"
They shook hands, and Folks turned to the other male. "And you're Sam Hanna, the guy with the sweet black Challenger outside, right?" He'd seen the car on his way inside, and recalled Deeks telling him about the power it had under the hood.
"That's right," Sam admitted, shaking his hand while giving Callen a subtle raise of the eyebrow. Folks figured they were sizing him up, so he turned to the only other agent in the area.
"Which makes you Kensi Blye. I look forward to working with you." He reached out to shake her hand, and she obliged. He took the opportunity to really look at her. Deeks had told him she was a beauty, but that was like calling the Mona Lisa a fingerpainting. Dark tresses the color of coffee, mysterious two-colored eyes, a mouth that looked soft enough to kiss, and a body with more curves than a winding road, all combined to mean Kensi Blye was so much more than beautiful.
No wonder Deeks had sounded so protective when he'd warned Folks, Don't even try it with her, man. She'll see through your crap and kick your ass to the curb before you can get out a wolf-whistle.
Yeah, Folks could tell a "Mine, not yours" as easily as the next dude, even when concealed in helpful advice.
Hetty found the first week of Deeks' replacement very interesting. Folks managed to insert himself into the group dynamic quite smoothly. LAPD did like him more than they did Deeks; that much was obvious by how easily they were able to gain juristiction and information. Folks also made an impression on Eric and Nell, who both thought of him as a friend after two days.
The only person who still held out was Kensi. In fact, it was after that first week that Kensi walked into Hetty's office while the small woman was sipping her tea. She set the cup down and said, "Yes, Miss Blye?"
"Hetty, is it weird to dislike a guy like Folks for no reason?" Kensi asked. "I mean, he's a good guy, I can tell that. He's smart, he's quick on his feet, and he gets his liaising done. He's a great partner too; he respects my space, even if he hits on me, but even then he's polite about it. But there's something about him...I don't know, is it me?"
The petite woman chuckled. I knew this would happen eventually, but I didn't think it would manifest so soon. Mister Callen owes me thirty dollars. "Yes, Miss Blye, it most certainly is you."
"Well, that's...I don't know what you mean," the agent said, confused.
"You're used to a particular type of partner, Miss Blye. It's normal to feel a bit irritated when your routine is distrupted by the presence of, for all intents and purposes, a new kid on the block." Hetty gave the junior agent a gentle smile. "While Mister Folks has been your partner, I've noticed you staring at him, as if not quite able to understand why you see him there. Care to wonder why?"
Kensi frowned, her eyes flickering as she seemed to recall her behavior the last few days. Then she seemed to relax as she came to grips with something. Hetty saw all these emotions flicker over her face, and then it settled to content. "Feel better?"
"Yeah," Kensi said. "I just...I miss my partner."
The smaller woman nodded. "As do I. But I am confident he well return to us in due time."
"One more week," Kensi said, more to herself than Hetty. Turning around, she headed back to her desk. Hetty smiled to herself as she took another sip of her tea.
One more week, indeed.
Deeks knew where he had to go. When he was cut loose after the arrests, he didn't go home. He didn't go out. He went to the Mission because he knew they'd still be there.
Folks was the first to see him, halfway out the door. He stopped and gave him a handshake. "They'll be glad to have you back, dude," he said, giving Deeks a friendly slap on the shoulder. "You have a good team, and a great partner."
Deeks nodded. "Don't I know it," he rasped, already trying to glance over and try to catch a glimpse of Kensi.
"Go on, get in there," Folks said. "I'll see you around."
"Thanks again, man." The blonde detective gave his friend a last smile and headed towards the bullpen.
"Deeks?" she managed to squeak out as he pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. He knew what he looked like - a scruffy guy in ripped jeans, button-down shirt, and and scuffed boots, covered in desert dust and scraped up to high hell. So he was completely ready for the look he got from Kensi as he walked up to her desk. But he didn't care. He had to hold her.
Being Basher was always tough for him; not to become him, but to return to being Marty Deeks. Basher, like Max, was too close to the meanness that he'd known in his childhood. He'd had to deal with scum-sucking drug dealers and thugs hired from the worst dregs of humanity. He'd come uncomfortably close to becoming his father, something he and Ray had sworn to never do.
He'd been through a living hell, both mentally and physically, for the last two weeks, and the only thing he could think of to keep him sane was Kensi.
"Deeks, you okay?" she asked. She sounded concerned, gentle, and somewhat relieved.
"Just...let me..." He couldn't finish his sentence, he was so drained. His grip on her body changed from tightly clutching to bone-crushing.
God be praised, she didn't question him. She just took his hands and led him to a somewhat hidden corner to let him be vulnerable. Kensi knew how much he hated showing weakness. Pulling him out of the public eye was her way of helping him decompress.
Deeks focused on her, only her, and on reconnecting with himself. Basher still had an unhealthy grip on him, and he didn't want to be in that alias for longer than necessary. It helped that Kensi was there for him.
Basher had no one. Max had Nicole, but that connection was long gone. But Marty had something neither of them had. In fact, Marty had something that none of his other selves had.
He had Kensi. And that was the best reason to come back from whatever mess he got into.
She wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. Then again, she was very rarely sure of anything when it concerned Detective Marty Deeks. Whether it was his spinning a cover from thin air to his sudden disappearance for an undercover LAPD op, Kensi had learned to just roll with it as long as needed to get her footing back.
Folks had been a great replacement, but that was all he was - replacing Deeks. Kensi missed the scruffy surfer-dude detective who'd managed to worm his way past her defenses and nestle in a slowly growing corner of her heart. Yes, she had missed him. It surprised her when she found that out too.
But when Deeks had walked into the Mission looking like the leftovers of a desert coyote, she'd seen such pain in his eyes. Pain, and confusion, and most of all, loneliness. All coupled with a look of loss that made her heart ache.
Maybe that's why she let him hug (read:cling) to her so tightly. Maybe that's why she led him away from prying eyes so he could keep holding on to her. Maybe that's why she didn't push him to tell her what happened.
So Kensi let him cling. She knew, sooner or later, he'd talk to her.
In about fifteen minutes, he started mumbling in her hair. Kensi listened and managed to piece together his story. Desert, scumbags, and a drug-running cartel that required him to wear an alias that was even more hated than Max. LAPD bust, arrests, slipping away to try and regain Marty Deeks from wherever he'd been tucked away for the last two weeks. Driving back, heading here, looking for something to help him return to himself.
Fear that while he wore that alias, he was just like his father.
Panic that one day he'd wake up and find out that he wouldn't be able to take off an alias.
Sheer dread that he wouldn't be able to return to being his normal cheery self - or return to her.
Kensi threaded her fingers through his hair and dragged her nails lightly over his scalp. His arms tightened, then relaxed slightly. "Kens..."
"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay. You're back now. You're okay." She kept ruffling his hair and reassuring him until the tension started to disappear from his body, his breathing evened out, and his grip on her loosened some more. "You're all right, Marty."
He nodded against her. "I know," he whispered. "I will be." Pulling away slightly, he stared at her with darkened blue eyes. There was a glint of - she didn't want to say pleading, because Marty Deeks never pleaded for anything. But it was clear he wanted to ask her for help, and his pride wouldn't let him utter the words.
So Kensi smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll give you a lift home." She went back to her desk and gathered her things, patting out the patches of dust that had transferred to her shirt and jeans. "C'mon Deeks, let's go."
The drive back to his apartment was silent. When they pulled up, Kensi walked up to the door with him. She wasn't really sure why. But when he looked at her and asked in a small voice if she'd stay the night, she didn't hesitate to nod.
The last two weeks had been tough for her, and absolute hell for him.
It would help if they stuck together a little longer.
Wow, this turned angsty without my paying attention. Oops.
Review please!