The one where he learns about her. The one where his memory of her proves useful more than half a decade later.

August 2008

"How deep under have you been?"

It is an innocent enough question, Deeks tells himself. He is simply trying to gauge the experience level of his new partner. He still mentally flinches when he thinks about how he would not only be responsible for his own ass, but for hers too. On a mission like this, no mistakes could be made. No mistakes would be tolerated, because any mistake could cost them their covers and their lives.

"Deep enough that I could have had trouble coming back, but not deep enough that I couldn't come back."

Georgia doesn't look at him when she says it, just stares out the dirty window of the truck he would soon have to give up when he goes undercover. He's had the truck for as long as he's been driving, and honestly he's surprised that the shitty truck hasn't called it quits and drove itself off a cliff to end its misery.

Deeks thinks that that was a good answer, vague and open-ended enough to skirt around any substantial response. He would have answered the same way. Georgia has clearly had practice in answering a question without actually saying anything at all.

Deeks can't tell by the bland tone of her voice if she wants him to stop talking about it, so he saves the topic for later. Even if he were able to read her voice better, he probably would have still pushed her for details eventually. Trading battle scar stories could be saved for not their first day together.

"Take a right up here."

They are driving back to her apartment. Deeks is driving his new partner back to her apartment. His partner. He shakes his head to himself at that again. Georgia sees the movement out of the corner of her eye but doesn't comment.

The mission they are going on is deep cover, obviously, and Deeks has so graciously offered to drive her back to grab clothes and maybe weapons and secure whatever she needs to before going under in the morning. It would all start tomorrow morning, and while his affairs are always in order, he wants to make sure she isn't overwhelmed.

If she's as experienced as his supervisors suggested, Georgia would have a go-bag waiting and ready to go. Deeks ignores the truth: he wants to test her.

They drive in silence, save for the directions she occasionally gives him. The thought of reaching over to hold her hand crosses his mind, but why on earth would he do that? It would't feel natural. Not at all.

"Do you ever think about leaving this life? I mean, you're still young. You could walk away and find something much better than this."

He can't believe how condescending that sounded. She can't be much younger than him, maybe a few years. Hell, he is still young.

"How old do you think I am? And you would know all about walking away, wouldn't you, counselor?"

Georgia stresses the last word so strongly that he can't help but visibly wince. He doesn't know where to start with his line of questioning. He supposes that it isn't a hidden secret that he came to the LAPD from being a practicing attorney, but it's still her first official day on the job. Maybe she actually did her research on her new partner.

"25, tops. Nice, snooty East Coast school spit out the perfect Criminal Justice major. Maybe even graduated early. Fresh out of college when you joined the Force."

It is all speculation. Deeks hadn't even looked at the file that was tossed on his desk, the desk he rarely sat at, before groaning and slamming his forehead against the folder. When his supervisor told him that he was going undercover again, he had really hoped it would be alone.

He realizes it isn't that bad, having company. He wants to like her. He think he might already.

"I'm your age, Deeks," Georgia snorts out a laugh, indicating she isn't the least bit offended by his assumptions of her. "You didn't read my file, did you?"

"Nope," Deeks pops the 'p' in the word and grins smartly at her. Georgia rolls her eyes.

"My birthday is March 1, in case you're wondering when you should buy my gift. I like Berettas, dogs, mountains, and fruit smoothies."

"Noted, my dear wife."

December 2014

There is nothing but stunned silence filling the Ops Center.

"Play that video again, Nell," Callen orders. There is no sound to the security camera feed, but they could all imagine the screams of terror from the frantic bystanders; the groans of agony from the lone remaining breathing man with bullets lodged in his shoulder and hip joints, bleeding out on the Los Angeles sidewalk; the faint echoes of the sirens that had probably already been called.

The woman finds the camera quickly and easily, as if she knew that someone would be watching. She makes a quick sign with her hands and an almost apologetic smile at the camera before flipping up the hood of her jacket and casually walking away from the crowd that is starting to gather.

Casually as if she hasn't just had a man press a knife against her throat and demand she get into his car. Casually as if she hasn't just gunned down four terrorists that NCIS had been searching for, killing three and conveniently leaving one alive and breathing. Casually as if every woman carries a bra holster and could shoot with deadly accuracy while being trapped in a chokehold and literally blindfolded.

Kensi almost makes a comment about not being the only one to own and wear a bra holster, but one look in her partner's direction makes her hold her tongue.

Eric clears his throat. "The security camera lost visual on her after that. We haven't been able to place her again, but we have facial rec searching. If she pops up on any camera in the LA area, we will be alerted."

"Hetty hasn't approved the funds to send out a reward for her whereabouts, so we're going to just do this the old-fashioned, back-channel ways first. It was weird. Hetty just got this strange faraway look when we showed her the video and went back to her desk to make a phone call," Nell reports with hesitation lacing her words.

"Search who she is. I want a full background on her." Callen makes to walk out the door with Sam's strong presence following when Deeks speaks up.

"Georgiana Abrams." His voice cracks halfway through her last name but he covers it with a cough.

"She one of ours?" Kensi reaches her hand out to skim down his arm. He nudges it off and Kensi tries not to be offended. They never had a problem with the slight touches in the office, even before they started their real relationship. She knows that this woman has to be of some immense importance for Deeks to ignore the comfort she is offering.

"She was never NCIS," Deeks acknowledges weakly. He stares, horrified, at the frozen rueful twist of the woman's lips. He looks like he was using every fiber of his being to keep from rushing to the screen and touching it to see if she was real.

"LAPD?" Sam holds a surprising amount of patience in the question. The entire room could feel the tension breaching the air.

"Briefly, yes." Deeks takes a deep breath and shakes his head to try to clear his thoughts and focus on the operation at hand. "She and I were undercover together."

"Anything we should know about her? Like where she learned to kill four people while being held in a chokehold without batting an eyelash?" It is Callen's voice this time.

"She was trained well. Frighteningly well. A variety of martial arts under her belt. Best at hand-to-hand combat. Hated long range weapons. Preferred Berettas. Loved dogs and mountains and fruit smoothies. Born March 1, 1979. Died December 26, 2008."