Thanks to everyone that's read and reviewed. You guys are awesome, and I'll get around to thanking you privately soon.
February 22, 2007
When he was in college, bars used to smell like cigarette smoke. Now they just smelled like old disinfectants and desperation. It's not something he normally paid much attention to, until he found himself sitting alone in a bar with his third Maker's Mark, neat. He looked sloppy, with his shirt untucked and his tie discarded in the seat next to him, but he didn't really care much about outward appearances. Take for example, his entire day. It wasn't actually as good as it would have appeared to an outsider. To some, it could have been cause for celebration.
He won his court case. Great, right? Not if his client was the scum of the Earth.
Before that happened, he made out with a smoking hot chick in his office. That would have been awesome too, if she wasn't his coworker and married.
Marty needed a major change in his life plan again. It's amazing that he ever managed to make it through college and law school, seeing as how he liked to reinvent himself every few years. Nothing was ever perfect. He was rarely satisfied. And he searched and searched but could never really find a home anywhere (or with anyone).
Bourbon in a bar all by himself when he was feeling low as hell probably wasn't the best way to get his life back on track. It was what it was though, he thought as he downed his drink and signaled for another.
"I heard you got David Serrano off on a technicality today," a familiar gruff voice spoke to the right of him.
"I had a job to do. I did it. It's not my fault your guys fucked up the paperwork." Marty didn't think he'd had so much to drink already that he wouldn't have noticed Roger Bates sliding into the barstool two seats over from him, but apparently he was wrong. Maybe he should have eaten first before coming to the bar to help soak up the alcohol. Fish tacos sounded good to him, even if was a potential disaster waiting to happen in combination with the liquor.
Bates scoffed and ordered a gin and tonic from the bartender. "It wasn't my men."
"Whatever," Marty said grumpily. "It doesn't matter anyway. The next set of charges will be the end of him, right? If you can properly fill out a chain of custody form, that is."
"Nice to know that alcohol doesn't muddy your charming smartass personality," Bates quipped. "But that's why I'm here actually. Your intel proved true again. We intercepted a truck full of stolen military grade weapons today, courtesy of the Molina cartel. MPs, AKs, grenades, even some old Ka-Bar knives."
Marty tried to be nonchalant, but he was curious and excited about this news. "That's...wow. Did you have to turn the case over to the feds?"
"Yeah, a good bit of it is their jurisdiction. But we've got a handful of the cartel's local contacts locked up now. We'll get them with intent to distribute, easily."
What Bates didn't say but Marty knew he was thinking - they'll get some of these shitheads and their weapons off the street. And that's always the goal, to make LA a safer place. It was a good goal to have. Maybe that's what he needed - a better goal, a greater purpose in life, like protecting people. "I don't guess Serrano was in that group, was he?"
"No. His time will come, I'm sure. He's low level anyway, though. Can't even afford a lawyer."
Lucky him, Marty thought, to have been assigned a public defender that hated his guts, leaked private information to the police about him, and yet still plead his innocence in court and eventually made him a free man. Jesus Christ, when did he become this person? He'd only been a lawyer for a short time but he could already feel his values slipping away.
"I'm thinking of a career change, Bates," Marty confessed, swirling his bourbon.
"Hmm." Bates took a sip of his drink. "Prosecution?"
"No. Enforcement." It could have been the alcohol talking, or maybe he'd actually been subconsciously thinking about it for a while.
"A cop?" Bates chuckled. "You want to be a cop? That's quite a demotion from your current position."
Marty finished his bourbon and slid his tumbler to the bartender. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you? Army Intelligence, regarded as one of the best interrogators in your field. And now you're just a lowly detective with the LAPD." He cast a side glance at the detective, who was giving him the usual annoyed glare. "You're not the only one who can do background checks, ya know."
"Lieutenant, actually. Effective next month," Bates said with a hint of pride. He didn't address his own demotion. Maybe he just didn't actually consider it to be a lesser job.
"You're welcome," Marty replied bitterly. The silence that met him solidified his belief that Bates' promotion was a direct effect of all the good work he'd been doing based off of their less than conventional cop/informant relationship.
"All that money, school...down the drain." Bates clicked his tongue. "I've been meaning to ask. How does a poor kid from Reseda afford Pepperdine Law with no loans? You sell a kidney? Or something maybe you don't want a narc to know about?"
"I'm clean," Marty answered, clenching his jaw. "It was a life insurance policy, okay? And it wasn't...isn't a waste. Even if I never step foot in a courtroom again, it wasn't a waste."
"Fine. So what makes you think that all of a sudden you want to be a cop now, Deeks?"
It must be a cop thing, he thought, being addressed by your last name instead of first. Maybe he could get used to that. "I need to do something that matters," he said with a sigh. "I want to put an end to the drug dealers that suck innocent kids into their lifestyle. I want to protect battered women that are too scared to protect themselves. I want to help people that might not even realize they need it."
"You talk too much, son," Bates said, shaking his head. "But those are pretty good reasons. If you really feel that way, you should do it."
"But if I do go in that direction, I don't want to be some traffic cop stuck giving out tickets." He looked pointedly at Bates, who nodded his understanding. Marty helped him out, and now he wanted that debt repaid.
"You'd have to pay your dues first, but I'll do what I can to help you out." Bates pulled out his wallet and pulled out more than enough cash to cover all of their drinks and tossed it on the bar. "But first things first. Get a damn haircut."
April 27, 2015
The start of the morning was nothing out of the ordinary - Deeks woke up to a beautiful brunette teasing him, only to leave him high and dry when they realized they'd overslept for work. Those few extra minutes of sleep and touching were always important, though. They never knew what kind of events would be in store for them on a given day.
As soon as they rushed into the Spanish Mission, Sam and Callen stood up from their desks and headed straight upstairs to their operational center.
"Case already?" Kensi asked as she and Deeks dropped their bags off and scurried after the senior agents.
"Been waiting on you guys," Eric called from the second floor landing.
Kensi made an apologetic face while Deeks just made excuses. "There was a lot of traffic."
Sam smirked knowingly. "Suuuure,"
Hetty, Nell, and Granger were all waiting when the team rolled into Ops one by one. Nell furiously tapped away at her tablet, still trying to pull together the necessary details of the case as her bosses waited patiently. Or rather, impatiently.
"So nice of you to join us," Granger said dryly, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets.
"Gotta love the 405," Deeks responded, sticking hard to his traffic excuse.
Granger wasn't buying it. "Uh huh."
"Before we get started," Hetty interjected, holding a hand up. "Today marks a special anniversary. Five years ago, Detective Deeks officially joined us as our liaison to the LAPD. An addition that, in my opinion, has been invaluable."
"Has it been that long already?" Kensi teased as Deeks bowed playfully to the team.
"Do we get a speech?" Sam asked.
Callen raised an eyebrow. "When do we not get a speech from Deeks?"
"Did you buy me a cake?" Deeks wiggled his eyebrows. "Or maybe we could celebrate with some of that Pappy's you've been hiding?"
"Sorry Mr. Deeks, no special treatment today. Ms. Jones, video feed please."
Nell nodded and tapped on her tablet again, bringing up the street view surveillance video of a small building. The general area was recognizable to the team, but nothing really stood out about the location.
"Wait for the boom," Deeks said, sticking his hands in his back pockets. It was then that he felt his phone vibrating, so he pulled it out to check who was calling. Bates.
"No boom," Eric replied.
Kensi looked at Deeks curiously as he typed a quick text message to his other boss - *kinda busy rn*.
Callen turned his attention to Granger. "Then what are we watching?"
Nell stepped forward, leading the way with the case details. "Yesterday at 9:20 p.m. the Navy's Office of Financial Operations was hacked. The breach was detected quickly but it's possible that an insurmountable amount of information has been compromised."
"Information?" Kensi chimed in. "Not money?"
Deeks' phone vibrated in his hand again. *IA wants to interview you. Next Monday at 9.* Sighing, he showed the message to Kensi, who rubbed his back to silently show her support.
"All files that were accessed were pertaining to last year's audits," Granger spoke up. "Inventory, responsible authorities, locations for everything owned by the Navy."
Again, Deeks' phone vibrated with another message. One of these days he was just going to turn the damn thing off so he didn't have to worry about it. *Be here at 8:30 and come see me first.* He gritted his teeth and shoved the phone back in his pocket, trying to refocus on the task at hand.
Eric held up his own tablet. "Anything as big as a helicopter to as small as this."
"Not necessarily that small," Nell said, smiling briefly at Eric. "But close enough. Anything that costs more than five hundred dollars is logged into the naval inventory, even if it is something that would seem irrelevant to every day operations."
"Why would somebody want this information?" Callen asked. "Domestic group questioning government spending?"
"That would be the absolute best case scenario," Granger answered.
Sam looked at Hetty. "Worst case scenario?"
Hetty frowned, clearly believing the worst case scenario to be possible. "Foreign operatives searching for the location of every weapon the Navy owns. And every location where naval operations take place."
"Follow the money," Deeks said softly.
"Exactly," Nell pointed to him. "For example. When Sam's weapon wasn't recovered after the Sidorov case, Hetty purchased a replacement for him. The government contract price for a SigSauer P229E2 is $600, so over the limit to avoid audit. Upon it's arrival, Hetty signed the paperwork acknowledging possession and responsibility of the weapon. It was then assigned an inventory number and added to the system with that number, Hetty's name, its value, and primary location."
"Here," Callen said, clenching his jaw. "Even we could be compromised."
"It's possible," Hetty said. "All secret operations are filed with code names for added security, but the locations are accurate."
"So what's the deal with this building?" Sam asked, pointing to the big screen.
"The breach occurred from multiple locations and happened quickly," Eric explained. "Most of the IPs were untraceable, but we were able to trace one back to this location here. I'll send the address to your phones."
"Do we think they might still be there?" Kensi asked.
Granger frowned. "Probably not. That would be too easy now, wouldn't it?"
"We're going tactical," Callen announced, heading towards to automatic doors.
"For hackers?!" Deeks called out in disbelief.
Nell placed a hand on her hip and gave the detective a fierce look. "I could be a hacker."
Deeks eyed his tiny friend up and down with wide eyes. "Okay yeah, definitely going tactical."
Tension was running high as the three agents and one detective stormed back into the armory. The day was a failure by mission standards, but a true victory only because they'd all managed to escape unscathed. It was a setup, of course - there were no hackers, not even any computers or networks set up at the location. It was just an almost empty building and the hired guns that were assigned to empty it. Two of the men got away, while two were on their way to the morgue. Hopefully their identities would help send them in the right direction of the mastermind behind the cyber breach.
Ever since leaving the Mission earlier, Deeks felt like there was some sort of ominous cloud hanging over the team. Despite their unfaltering skills and teamwork, it was apparent that something just wasn't right with them lately. In low stress situations, everything was fine. But the demons started to show themselves when the adrenaline started pumping. He knew he was overly paranoid, most likely because he felt that every move he made was being watched and scrutinized. The LAPD Internal Affairs investigation had been relatively quiet, though he was keenly aware of Detective Rivera's somewhat poorly hidden presence in his life. Meanwhile, Callen was moody because he was convinced that suddenly there was more to every little thing than met the eye. He was on the verge of going lone wolf again, to Russia or the Ukraine or God knows where his curiosity would lead him. His search for the missing pieces of the puzzle known as his life would never end until it was complete.
Of course, both of their partners were also on edge as a result of the tension, though Sam and Kensi had started gravitating towards each other for stability. They both saw the day for what it probably was - bad timing. Their partners had other ideas, unfortunately.
"We were screwed the minute we walked out the door," Deeks growled, slamming his vest on the floor.
"We were screwed before we ever stepped foot outside," Callen argued. "Every step we take, somebody is going to be ahead of us. Waiting for us."
"Probably your good friends, the Russians," Deeks muttered, kneeling to unpack his bag of supplies. "They've been making their presence known way too much lately."
Callen crossed his arms over his chest. "My friends?"
"Oh, are they the enemy again? It's hard to keep up with it. Maybe if you made us a schedule, that would help."
"Deeks," Kensi warned her partner. "You're taking your frustrations out on the wrong person."
"No, Kensi, let him say it," Callen said.
Deeks sighed. "No. It's not you." He stood up and looked at Sam and Kensi. "Or you, or you."
"Then what is it?" Sam asked.
A chorus of buzzes and chirps sounded in the room as all four of their cell phones alerted them of text messages. Kensi checked hers first, announcing with a sigh. "Granger wants a debrief in Ops."
They hurried their pace, quickly unpacking their gear and setting it aside for cleaning. Deeks felt another vibration in his pocket, and looked around to see if anybody else was checking their phones. The room stayed silent, so he pulled his phone out to read his message.
*can I talk to you privately later?*
He would usually expect a verbal request like that from Hetty, or even Granger. But this message was from Nell. He sent back a quick "ok" before tossing their bags in the closet and heading for the door. Before he could get too far, a strong hand grabbed his bicep and held him back.
"What's going on with you?" Sam asked quietly.
Deeks shook his head, but Sam just rolled his eyes. He couldn't be fooled.
"You ever just get a feeling and you just can't shake it..." Deeks scratched his jaw and avoided looking Sam directly in the eye. "Like, something bad is about to happen?"
Sam tried to play it off like Deeks was being paranoid by chuckling softly, but his smile never reached his eyes. Sam wasn't even privy to the IA investigation, but Deeks could tell that he felt it, too. Clapping his hand on the younger man's back, he led him to the doorway. "Forget that I even asked."