A/N: Tada, another chapter! We're coming to a close here, so I hope this has been worth the wait.
Disclaimer: Es ist nicht meins.
Reviews: Thanks for all the comments and encouragement. You all are so nice.
jmlane1966: I'm glad you like it. I like to keep things as canon as possible, even when going AU.
Fanficforyou: That is the question…what shall I do to Deeks next (cue maniacal laughter).
Mefoote: That would be nice but I'm not sure how likely it is. I can go Tiva, or Jeanne/Tony, or basically any realistic ending that has him happy and not cut off from his surrogate family.
Honus47: I try, but I usually don't succeed. I think there are only one or two more chapters after this so not too much more waiting.
Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
What's Thicker Than Water?
Douglas Tourney was tall, lean and reasonably handsome with brown hair a few shades darker than his skin. He was all in all a rather clean young man who at least by his appearance, seemed the least likely individual to be involved in anything underhanded. Based on the way Kensi was currently glaring at him; however, he may as well have been a mass murdering maniac who lit puppies on fire in his spare time.
Doug shifted nervously in his chair as Kensi tapped a nail against the table and glanced anxiously around the interrogation room. They had been sitting there for roughly twenty minutes and every slow click of Kensi's fingernail seemed to increase Doug's agitation exponentially.
"Is...is somebody gonna tell me why I'm here?" He ventured for the third time since they'd picked him up outside his apartment. Kensi growled and Doug automatically leaned back in his seat. "Look I told you guys a hundred times, I didn't do anything!" Doug nearly shouted, sending a terrified and almost pleading expression towards the camera in the corner of the ceiling.
Outside the room Callen and Sam watched, looking mildly amused by Kensi's performance. She hadn't asked a single question yet and already the guy was ready to spill every secret he'd ever kept.
"So, how long do you think you guys are gonna be?" Callen turned towards the speaker with a disinterested expression. "Cause we've got interrogations of our own to do." His back was already turned by the time Officer David Lewis finished speaking.
"We'll let you know when we're through." Sam offered in a bland tone. He glanced over his shoulder to find the man wearing a clearly frustrated expression.
"You know, I didn't have to let you in here. I'm sure somewhere in the LAPD protocols there's a rule against this." Officer Lewis said warningly. His friendly demeanor had become decidedly cooler over the last hour as the three NCIS agents had taken over select parts of the precinct. It most likely had not helped matters that they were treating the officer like their own personal lackey.
"Yeah, tell that to Hetty." Callen said in that same bland voice with just a hint of amusement and superiority. Sure enough, Officer Lewis blanched a little and looked a less sure of himself. The inevitable run-in had happened shortly after he had insisted that he couldn't let the agents dress in police uniforms or for that matter, pretend to be members of the police force. He'd remained staunch in that respect, not even yielding to the reminder that they were a federal agency…that was until Hetty had popped up on a video call and mentioned traffic control. To sweeten the deal the tiny women had already gone over his head and straight to the chief of police.
Suffice it to say, David was feeling less than delighted by NCIS and its members' continued presence.
"You are related to Tom and Jerry Gelitz?" All three men snapped their attention back to the one-way mirror as Kensi asked her first question.
"Uh, yeah." Douglas answered hesitantly as he glanced down at the photos placed in front of him. "What's this got to do with my uncles?" He asked, chuckling nervously. "I mean, I haven't even seen either of 'em in like two months."
"Last month they were wanted for the suspected robbing of a convenience store. Since then two more stores have been robbed in the same manner." Kensi slid a photo of Doug shaking hands with Jerry as she spoke. Doug stared at it as though it contained condemning evidence.
"I have nothing to do with anything like that." He said with raised hands. "I'm just an intern…I help people."
"Yes, you help people. Like your uncles." Doug swallowed convulsively.
"No, I didn't–"
"Then why were you talking with him?" His noise of protest was caught off as Kensi slid a glossy and remarkably clear photo of him next to Jerry Gelitz.
"How did you even get…?" Doug cut himself off, seeming to realize that denial was useless and weakly added, "We were just talking."
"Doug, if we find out that you had any prior knowledge of your uncles' actions you could be considered complicit in their crimes." Kensi informed him without remorse.
"Look, I never–" Doug swallowed harshly again. "That was never my thing. I knew for a long time that they were into some stuff that wasn't exactly…legal. But I never had anything to do with it." Kensi fixed him with another burning stare.
"So you didn't help them, you just knew that they were involved in illegal activity?" He glanced at the two-way mirror and let out a nervous chuckle.
"You keep twisting everything I say." Doug murmured ruefully as he shook his head. After a few moments he met Kensi's gaze again and leaned forward. "I'm not a bad person." He insisted.
"Then tell us where they are." Doug looked away again, with a nervous yet oddly determined expression.
"You know," Officer Lewis said from the other room. "He's not gonna tell her anything."
"Don't worry, Kensi's just getting started." Sam answered dismissively.
"But your guy doesn't have that much time, does he?" Lewis said in a voice that was surprisingly sincere. "You want him to break, give him a few minutes in a holding cell with our catch of the day. He won't be so loyal once he's faced with the possibility of real jail time."
"I thought you were worried about the code of conduct." Callen drawled, still facing away from Lewis.
"At this point, I'm ready to do anything to get you three out of this precinct." He responded, his voice acidic. "Besides, we're doing this for one of our own, right?" Sam smiled at the man for the first time.
"I like the way you think. Now where's this holding cell?"
Marty shivered, the old brick walls he walked between emanating a deep chill that seemed to penetrate his skin. A pipe dripped nearby, sounding like a cannon every time the water made contact with the ground and reverberated through his skull like a gonging bell. It was getting harder to see in the growing darkness which hindered Marty's already impaired ability to walk.
He ran into something hard for what seemed like the hundredth time and swore extensively in a slightly slurred voice.
"Really?! Come on!" He growled to the darkening sky. "You don't think this week has been hard enough?" Naturally a light sprinkle of rain was the only answer he received and with another growl, he began moving again in an unsteady weave. It was futile. The chances of him actually making it somewhere safe that offered medical help without the brothers finding his were about as good as a bet that Sam would eat his weight in Twinkies. It would be so much easier just to lie down and wait for the inevitable to happen. At least then maybe his chest would stop aching. He was just so tired.
"C'mon, Marty." He whispered to himself. "You don't just give up, not like this." Marty brought in a shaky, icy breath. "And definitely not for a mouse and a cat." He shook his head a few times in lieu of the more traditional preparatory hopping, given his current condition.
"Ok, ok…this area runs on an east-west grid…which means I want to turn right." Peering around the edge of a building, he saw nothing particularly innocuous. "Alright Marty, let's do this. Let's get you home…maybe Kensi will give you a nice back rub." He chuckled, hearing Kensi imaginary gag and 'In your dreams.' in his mind. "Oh, a guy can always dream." He responded breathlessly.
Stumbling down the next alley, he continued muttering to imaginary Kensi. Oddly he felt the pain begin to fade just a little as Kensi's mocking tone floated through his mind.
Sam yanked Douglas' arms behind him, tightening the cuffs in a way that elicited a squeak of protest. As the two agents dragged him towards the holding cells, his expression grew more apprehensive. Despite his obvious fear Doug was still spouting a flood of excuses and promises that he wasn't involved in his uncles' crimes.
Kensi might have felt just a tiny bit sorry for him if he wasn't related to the scumbags who had Deeks. She reminded herself of how vulnerable her partner was the last time she saw him and was soon imagining the creative ways she could use her stick fighting skills when they found Tom and Jerry.
"Man, I didn't do anything. Yeah, I talk to them sometimes, they're my uncles, but I never did anything illegal and I don't know anything about their jobs." Doug insisted, his voice rising as Callen shoved him into a cell next to a man wiry looking man with stringy, graying hair and bloody knuckles.
"I'm not a criminal!" He said in a panicky tone that made his cellmate chuckle darkly. Sam shrugged and shared an indifferent look with Callen before he swung the cell door closed with a resounding clang.
The two men headed back up the stairs and were met by Officer Lewis who seemed in a much better mood now that he'd regained some control. Callen jabbed a thumb in the direction of the holding area.
"You sure he'll be okay alone with that guy?" He asked as Lewis lead them into the break room
"Who, Lenny?" Lewis responded in an amused voice. Sam frowned.
"Lenny? You gave him a nickname?" The cop let a chuckle escape.
"Lenny is actually Jacob Larter. He does most of his work in undercover. Just got back from a three month stint as a homeless, paranoid schizophrenic. When I mentioned we needed a last-minute plant, he jumped at the chance." Sam shook his head.
"Sounds like someone we know. Does he always look like that?" Lewis poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Callen.
"Nah, he cleaned up before he came in. He doesn't like to change too much because he's just gonna get sent out again. Lenny likes to get practice without the pressure of potentially getting killed at any moment." Kensi stalked into the room, took one glance at the three men calmly sipping on their coffee and slammed her hand against the table in the middle of the room. Two officers who had been quietly chatting to themselves looked up at the sharp sound.
"Kens…"
"Callen what good is this doing? We're sitting around waiting for some guy to maybe tell us something if he gets lonely enough during timeout.
"Kensi!"
"No, you said to follow you lead but it isn't working."
"Officer Lewis?" Kensi glared at the woman who interrupted her while Lewis gave an apologetic nod.
"There's a Douglas Tourney in holding who's asking to speak with you. Johnston's waiting on line four." Lewis smiled genially and picked up the phone hanging on the wall. He listened for a few minutes, inserting the occasional 'uh-huh' before assuring the other cop that he would handle it. He turned to the NCIS agents with a grin.
"He's gonna talk. Apparently Lenny had one of his fits."
"Well, then let's go talk to the little creep." Kensi muttered, stalking from the room before anyone could notice the flush coloring her cheeks.
A few minutes later they stood in front of a truly freaked out Doug who was all but hiding in the farthest corner from Lenny. Unfortunately for him the tiny cell didn't leave much room for solidarity.
"Get me out of here!" Doug hissed. He sent a wary glance at Lenny who currently had his head pressed against one of the concrete walls and was softly moaning to himself. Kensi could only wonder what he'd done to terrify their witness so thoroughly.
"You first." Sam said with a pointed tilt of his head. Doug frowned and started to say something when Lenny let out a high pitched howl, suddenly darting across the room. Abandoning all sense of dignity, Doug scampered back into the corner and shouted, "Fine, just get me away from him! I'll tell you anything you want."
Impressively even as they let Doug out and secured his arms once more with cuffs, Lenny continued to make a series of disturbing noises and odd frenetic gestures. Kensi had to look away after a few moments when she realized it made her think of Deeks in some of his more bizarre personas. Instead she focused on Doug who was shaking slightly, his breath hitching in and out at infrequent intervals. She couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit of pity for him, try as she might to push it away with thoughts of Deeks bleeding somewhere.
It was with those somewhat conflicting thoughts that Kensi led the way back up to interrogation where Lewis deposited a trembling Doug into a hardback chair. Glancing around at the various assembled agents and officers, even she had to admit that it might be a bit over-kill. Sam stood over the younger man with his flexed arms across his chest which produced a shaky breath from the suspect.
"Ok, spit it out." Kensi prompted when it didn't seem that Douglas was planning to speak anytime soon. He jerked before pulling in a second shuddering breath.
"Ok, ok just…I need a minute." He took several more shallow breaths, whispering something under his breath as he did so. "Ok, so there's this place that Tom and Jerry…go. I mean they've got a bunch of places where they can crash but this is where they go when they need someplace to hide." Doug said, keeping his head down as he spoke.
"And the address?" Doug squeezed his eyes shut.
"109th Westchester Avenue."
Deeks stumbled into a wall, his head spinning, blood pounding so loudly it made his skull feel as though it might split. Phantom Kensi had disappeared maybe half an hour ago. He'd been chatting with her one moment and then the next she wasn't there and no amount of calling her name or begging brought her back. He'd stopped when his voice was so hoarse that only a thin, painful whisper emerged.
"Kens." He croaked out, the word splitting in the middle. "I could really use you right now, partner." Predictably, she didn't answer. Most stubborn woman he'd ever met. Marty supposed he should be grateful that she hadn't hit him yet. His friendly neighborhood thugs hadn't taken care of that department, thank you very much.
"Ok, I'm sure Sam wouldn't mind a chat. You think you won't miss me, but you'll wish I was there when you least expect it. C'mon Kensi, don't make me do this alone." This time he did hear something, but it wasn't Kensi's voice but rather the sound of someone running, quickly, towards him. Marty heaved in a breath, the cold air sticking in his throat and nearly choking him. His legs were unsteady and he reconsidered just sitting down right there to wait for whoever was coming for him. It would certainly be a lot easier than fighting it out in his condition and if Kensi had given up then he just didn't see much point.
Always knew you were a wimp. Cops just can't hack it with a federal agency. Marty chuckled hoarsely.
"Oh yeah, Blye? Well, I'll take your feds and raise you a public defender who made it through four years of college with shoulder length hair."
Gah, so glad I missed the wonder years of Marty Deeks. He grinned at a water-stained patch of bricks that was apparently standing in for Kensi.
"So, what does the great Agent Kensi Blye, able to leap tall men in a single bound, suggest I do?" Kensi snorted.
Well, numb-nuts, that gun in your hand isn't just there to make you look pretty. This it sounded more like a conglomeration of Sam and Marty's father, but he got the point. He lifted the weapon a little, watching it glint with rain.
"I don't know if I can shoot, Kens. My hands are shaking."
I also suggest you run. Kensi added, her voice completely serious. Now, Marty. He ran.
"You get that address, Beale?" Sam asked, speaking into his comm.
"Roger, on that." Nell answered back. Eric's noise of complaint echoed in the background. "Ok, we got it. It is a legitimate location." She continued after a few moments. "Hmm."
"What's, hmm?" Kensi asked immediately.
"Well," Eric started. "It's just that this place looks pretty nice for the Gelitz, Gelitezes? Anyway, it's not like the Ritz or anything but I think the cops would be able to track them down. I also don't think they'd need to turn to break-ins if they lived here." Callen and Sam shared a worried look while Kensi appeared ready to punch something. "Ok, I located a traffic cam and….ok, yeah, a couple with a baby live there and there's no sign of the Corvette."
"That little piece of crap lied to us!" Kensi hissed.
"Huh, apparently he's tougher than he looks." Callen mused.
"So what are we gonna do?" Eric asked.
"Let him go." Callen decided. "If he's willing to lie to us, then he cares enough to go warn them."
"So all we need to do is follow him and we'll find Deeks." Kensi finished in a calm tone that left no doubt in anyone's mind that finding Deeks wasn't all she had planned. Standing beside the three agents, Officer Lewis looked slightly unnerved.
The steps were getting closer and Marty was getting slower, each movement taking a momentous amount of energy. Marty knew he was supposed to be walking, but he just couldn't remember why it was so important and his legs were refusing to cooperate. He lifted his foot except it didn't follow his command and he ended up stumbling into a battered metal trashcan that lay sideways in the mud.
A choked noise that might have been a sob or laugh escaped as Marty slid down in a heap. Rain continued to pour from above, soaking his already shivering body. His hair, now a sopping, tangled mess, hung in his eyes but he didn't have the energy to shove it back. Footsteps now echoed loudly from what sounded like just a few yards away.
Well, it was now or never…and never was looking a whole lot closer since it was taking all his effort not face-plant in a pool of muddy water. Raising himself up on shaking arms, Marty managed to flip his body over before his strength gave out again and he collapsed, his head landing in something that made a nasty squishing noise. Everything was blurry, not that there was much to see in the dark, rain sky. He let his eyes slide shut.
"Max." This time there wasn't a hint of warmth or humor in Jerry's voice. It was a deep, growl of barely contained rage and if Marty had even an ounce more energy he might have felt a hint of fear. Well, this was a crappy way to die. Kind of poetic given his upbringing, but he'd really thought he'd come to a more heroic, or at least less miserable, death than this.
"Oh, Max." Jerry repeated, in an icy tone that promised significant pain. Marty managed to lift his head just enough to see the man standing at the end of the alley, his form blocking out dim light. Through slitted eyes he saw Jerry pull something from his pocket which was accompanied by a sharp snick. Fingering the shiny blade, Jerry took a step closer.
A/N: So there you go. Hope phantom Kensi wasn't too cliché or anything else in this chapter. I had to have a little fluff amongst the angst and pain.
They should really treat cops better than they do. Never know when you might need a stringy haired schizophrenic on your side. (I loved writing Lenny, no matter how briefly he appeared).
