Thanksgiving

So, I wrote this years ago, back when I had a tumblr. I used to take drabble prompts, many for Densi, and out of the considerable amount, this one has always stuck with me. Warnings for mentions/memories of domestic abuse. This is a tough one...

I own nothing.

"Please, stop this! I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I swear! Please, think of Martin!"

It was the crack of a gunshot that woke him up. Martin Deeks jolted in bed, his eyes snapping open, seeking out the source of the noise. It became apparent quickly that the noise had been in his dream, an echo of a distant day.

Deeks glanced over to his side, his heart beating far too fast as he looked over at his girlfriend. Kensi lay sleeping beside him, her face calm and peaceful, and for a moment, relief overtook him. If she wasn't awake, it meant that his nightmare hadn't been loud. He hadn't been screaming, he hadn't been fighting.

The clock on the nightstand beside him read 2:45 in the morning. It was officially thanksgiving day.

Deeks sighed and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. He settled back down against the mattress, careful to not disturb Kensi.

Rolling onto his side, Deeks pressed his cheek against the cool side of the pillow, willing his heart rate to calm down. He was awake, the nightmare was gone, and that day was more than a decade in the past.

"Marty, baby, go upstairs, ok?"

"But mom -"

"Roberta, get in here! Now!"

"Just go, honey. I'll be fine. Go put your music on, ok?"

Deeks squeezed his eyes shut at the vivid memory. He had only been eleven years old at the time, but he had felt years older as he took in his mother's resigned expression. They both knew that Gordon had been drinking heavily since the night before. Thanksgiving wasn't enough reason for him to take a break, after all.

Roberta Deeks, already used to her fair share of beatings, had tried to coax Deeks into going upstairs. As long as he was out of sight, he was out of mind when it came to Gordon.

Deeks remembered how his mother had gently shoved him towards the stairs, her eyes tearing up as she tried to reassure him with a shaky smile. Gordon had begun banging things in the kitchen, each crash causing both of them to flinch.

As he came stomping into the living room, his angry eyes set on his wife, Deeks hurried up the stairs. He had just made it to the top when his mother had let out her first cry.

Deeks could feel his nose tingling, the slight burning signalling the arrival of tears. He blinked quickly, sniffling softly, biting down on his lip as the full memory assaulted him.

"Martin? Think of Martin?! That good for nothin', waste of space kid?!" Each one of Gordon's words were emphasised by a hit or a kick, but Deeks wasn't sure which. By the sound of his breathless voice, it was probably both.

"I'm surprised you thought of him, seein' as how you only think of yourself! I told you to get me more beer, and what do you do?! Huh?! Couldn't even do one thing right!"

Deeks was frozen on the stairs, tears streaming down his face, his body shaking. He thought of calling for help, of finally ending this all, but to get to the phone, he'd have to pass by his father. His mind flashed to the gun his friend Ray had given him the week before. Ray had warned him, told him to use it against his father if he was in danger, said that it was self defence and that made it ok.

Deeks finally moved, rushing into his bedroom. He almost turned his entire desk upside down, searching for the .22 handgun, fumbling with it to make sure it was loaded. Then, he left his room, the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

Deeks inched closer to the top step, peering through the railing to see where exactly his father was. The sight caused a sob to rise in his throat.

His mother lay on the ground, curled up into a tiny ball. There was blood leaking from her head, staining the lovely cream carpet she had bought the week before. She was crying, horrible, heart-wrenching sobs.

"Where is the little bastard anyway?!" Gordon asked, landing another harsh kick to Roberta's face. There was a sickening crunch, and she howled in pain. "Gonna set him right, so I am. Hangin' out at the beach, surfin' with all those low life kids. Gettin' ideas, thinkin' he's special just cause he's got some friends now."

"Please, leave him alone," Roberta mumbled, her voice strangled. "He's just a boy."

"He ain't nothin' but a mistake," Gordon spat. "Just like his mother. God, sometimes I just wish the two of you were gone. Dead and buried with the rest of the trash out back."

The few seconds of rest as Gordon ranted only seemed to charge his anger, and within seconds, he was back to beating his wife. Deeks watched on in horror, terrified and unsure of what to do. His brain was screaming at him to call for help, but how he was going to reach the phone without his father noticing, he wasn't sure. He didn't want to make him angrier.

"Oh, no, don't you pass out on me, I ain't done with you yet. I want you to watch this," Gordon huffed, stepping back. He grabbed a half empty can of beer from the coffee table and chugged the last of it before going over to the closet, and throwing open the door.

Deeks saw his opportunity, and while his father's back was turned, he rushed downstairs and into the kitchen. The sudden movement behind him caused Gordon to whip around. He caught sight of his son ducking into the kitchen, but only grinned.

"There's my boy!" He called happily, stepping towards the kitchen. Deeks, with the phone in his hand, two of the three important digits tapped in, froze. The sound of a gun cocking caused his blood to run cold, and he slowly turned to face his father.

A shotgun was aimed at his face, his father smirking at him, his eyes red and glistening.

"You're gonna wanna put that down, boy," Gordon warned.

Deeks swallowed thickly, the phone falling from his hand. More tears fell from his eyes, seeming to make Gordon very happy.

Gordon motioned for Deeks to enter the living room, using the gun as an indicator. Deeks moved slowly, stumbling when the barrel of the gun pushed into his back, shoving him.

His mother lay on the ground, barely able to lift her head up. Deeks made a move for her, to run to her, and help in any way he could, but the gun was still pressed against his back.

"Stand over there," Gordon ordered, pointing towards the couch. "You're gonna watch this. You're gonna see what happens when you don't listen, when you don't just mind your business and leave well enough alone."

"Please -"

The gun whipped around, now trained on Roberta. She was sobbing now, her eyes flying between her husband and son.

"You, stay quiet! You've said enough. I think it's time to finally shut you up," Gordon scratched the stubble on his chin. "Say goodbye to your mommy, boy."

"No!" Roberta screamed.

A gunshot rang out throughout the house, the loud bang causing ears to ring, and walls to shake. For a second, no one knew what to do.

And then Gordon was stumbling back, the gun falling from his hands as a blooming red stain began to spread through his shirt.

"You shot me," He whispered in shock, staring at the blood beginning to coat his hands. His eyes rose to Deeks, who still stood there, the gun raised in front of him.

Gordon fell to the ground, his hand still pressed against his chest. Deeks could hear his mom calling for him, could hear someone break open the front door. He registered Ray, and some neighbours, rushing in, drawn to the sound of the shot. He could see the paramedics arrive, along with the cops. He watched them load Gordon up in a gurney, an oxygen mask being put over his face. Deeks watched his mother be secured to a spinal board. He watched it all, and registered none of it. All he could feel was a deep emptiness.

Kensi Blye was having a good dream. She wasn't exactly sure what it was about, but she knew it was good. That is, until, everything began to wobble, and she was pulled out of her dream and back into consciousness.

The first thing she registered was how the mattress beneath her seemed to be shaking slightly. The next thing she noticed was that there was a soft sniffling noise coming from beside her.

Kensi rolled onto her side, her eyes roaming the expanse of her boyfriend's back. She watched as his shoulders shook, his back muscles shuddering with barely repressed anguish.

Kensi knew immediately what was going on. She had taken note of the date already, had anticipated this very thing to happen at some point or another. Still, her heart broke, and tears rose to her eyes.

"Deeks," she whispered softly, shuffling over to wrap her arms around him.

At her touch, Deeks fell apart. Heart-wrenching sobs were torn from his chest, full of pain and fear. He rolled over, burying his face into her neck, allowing her to comfort him. Kensi wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him.

"I've got you," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You're safe, it's all over."

"Kensi," Deeks cried, clutching onto her.

"I'm here," she promised. "I'm always gonna be right here."