Author's Note: This kind of feels like a filler chapter (Also, this chapter was kind of a personal indulgence for me; we almost never get to see interaction between Deeks and Callen without Kensi or Sam), but this and the next chapter are very important because Callen finally starts to not distance himself from his emotions. And…let's just say he is going to get very angry pretty soon; he needs to stop blocking certain things out to do so. So please bear with me! :) Reviews are loved!
NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA
Please don't beat the crap out of me, please don't beat the crap out of me, please don't beat the crap out of me. Deeks pleaded in his mind as he sat down across from Callen. He knew the lead agent was not pleased about Hetty's orders, and Deeks really hoped he didn't take out on him. Not that he was scared of Callen or anything…
Deeks gave a shaky laugh and set the first aid kit down. "Well, I guess we better get this over with."
Callen dropped his arm, palm up, against the table; face pensive. Deeks expected more of a fight, but thanked Heaven for small favors. He reached into the first aid kit and pull out some bandages, rubbing alcohol, and various other things he felt he would need. He paused, feeling a sensation of uncertainty as he touched Callen's arm. The only person Deeks had ever seen Callen allow to touch him was Sam; why couldn't Sam be the one doing this? He gently started cleaning one of the wounds, ready to duck and run for cover. Callen grit his teeth against the disinfectant's sting, but made no further protest. Deeks took that as a good thing, but the distant expression on Callen's face worried him.
He moved on, looking at the next one. "Man, Callen; you should have cleaned these or bound them or something."
"I was a little busy saving a witness." The sneer on the last word did not go unnoticed by the detective.
"You want to talk about it?" He asked as he cleaned the wound.
"Just because you are holding my hand doesn't mean I am going to pour my heart out to you, Deeks." Callen said briskly, although a tiny hint of a smile played about his lips for a moment. Heartened by the reaction Deeks looked up at his in-field boss, but the distant look was back in Callen's eyes.
"Oops. There's a piece of glass in here." Deeks said, looking at the next cut. He glanced at Callen. "You didn't feel that?"
Callen shrugged. Deeks frowned slightly. He knew the senior agent kept things bottled up and pushed down, but this was ridiculous. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and glanced at Callen. "This might hurt a little bit, but I got to get it out."
Callen's lips twitched; his face still remote. "Just do it, Deeks."
The blonde man leaned over Callen's arm, carefully grabbing the bit of window glass. "You know…I know what it's like."
Callen glanced at him but didn't say anything. Deeks felt obligated to continue.
"I know what is like." He repeated. "With people like him. To feel like it's your fault, that you are the one the blame for everything. If you were stronger…less clumsy…less afraid, it wouldn't happen again."
Callen's arm tensed under Deeks's hand, but the detective didn't look up, nor did he release the lead agent. Working as gently as he could, he began to remove the piece of glass. "But because you are afraid, you are angry. Angry at him for doing it, angry at others for not seeing it, angry at yourself for not fighting back. And if and when you do fight back, things don't get any better, only worse." Deeks didn't know where the words were coming from, they were just coming out. "And even though you know it isn't your fault, you can't help but believe it is. And then the doubt sets in…maybe it isn't as bad as I thought. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe this is good for me. And then the shame sets in. How could I let it happen again? Why me?"
Deeks swallowed hard, remembering every time his father got drunk and began beating him and his mother. Anger worked his way into his chest, remembering the night he had had enough…the night he shot his own father. "You know…the worst thing I remember from the night I shot my old man was hearing he was going to live…and I remember being disappointed."
Deeks pulled the bit of glass up, quickly reaching for a towel and pressing it against the now bleeding cut. He felt the flood of words keep coming out. "And then you grow up, and you don't have an excuse anymore; you are tough, you can fight for yourself now. But the anger, and the confusion, and the blame and the shame and the hate are all still there, just buried. And then it all comes back to you like one big slap in the face, and you find the fear is still there too. Because what if you aren't strong enough? What if you can't fight well enough to be left alone?"
Deeks lifted up the towel to see if the bleeding had stopped. It hadn't. He replaced the towel and kept talking.
"And then you have to decide which one wins out; anger or fear." Deeks finally looked up at Callen, hoping the older man would not take offence to his words. Please, please don't beat the crap out of me. Deeks thought again as he looked at Callen. The senior agent had a stunned look on his face.
Callen stared at Deeks in surprise. He had been shocked at Deeks's speech; the seemingly carefree surfer king persona he had associated with his liaison officer had just been shattered. He felt almost guilty for not remembering Deeks had been through an abusive situation, just as he had; about the same age too. Every word that Deeks had said cut right through his mind, throwing light on shadows Callen would much rather leave alone. It was like Deeks had been there, seen his life. And in a way, Callen guessed, he had. He had seen it in his own childhood.
He realized Deeks was staring at him with uneasiness in his eyes. Callen guessed the detective hadn't meant to speak, and was unsure how he would react.
"I hate it. I hate how he gets in my mind." Callen's voice was rough, and surprised him. He hadn't meant to speak; his mind was betraying him just like it had in the car when Kimball was baiting Sam.
Deeks nodded in understanding, relief also flooding his face; Callen guessed it was from the realization Callen wasn't going to punch him. "My old man was good at that too. He'd get you all twisted around until you would swear the sky was purple. When he told me that I got that bruise from falling off my bike, I almost believed him."
Callen nodded, that sounded familiar. "I could handle it if it was just me, Deeks. But he's bringing Hetty and Kensi and you and Sam into it. He's screwing with their heads just like he-" He slammed his mouth shut. What the hell was he doing? How did Deeks do that? Even Hetty couldn't get him to talk. There was a sudden sting in his arm and he looked down. Deeks had gone back to cleaning the cuts, but was nodding to show he was listening.
"I don't want you all brought into this. This shouldn't even be happening; we never have to see him again after we close this case. It isn't worth bringing up all that old dirt." Callen said stubbornly.
"Rationalization." Deeks said knowingly. "You don't want to deal with it so you justify ignoring it. Been there, done that, man."
Callen glared at Deeks. "I am not ignoring it; I am just-"
"Not dealing with it." Deeks finished for Callen, and Callen frowned. "That's not what I was going to say…"
"But that is what you are doing."
Callen ground his teeth. He remembered being the one doing this kind of thing to Sam whenever his partner felt guilty or blaming himself for a case gone wrong. Now he knew how it felt, and he didn't like it. There was a minute or two of silence, Deeks bandaging Callen's arm expertly.
"You do this a lot?" Callen asked in curiosity, mostly to break the heavy silence. Deeks paused. "Yeah. One of my undercover cases, I went in as an emergency response for a rodeo. I got a lot of practice."
Callen smiled. "Rodeo?"
"Long story." Deeks suddenly frowned. "This one cut needs stitches, man. I'm sorry."
Callen stood instantly, snatching his arm against his chest. "No, Deeks."
Deeks stood as well, folding his arms. "Callen, it is over a half inch, the skin does not touch, and it will continue to tear and bleed if not treated. That is the textbook case for stitches!"
"I hate needles, Deeks. No. End of discussion."
"It will reduce the chances of scarring."
"Women like scars." Callen said defiantly. Deeks shook his head. "You have enough scars to impress the entire Sports Illustrated modeling staff, dude. You don't need another one."
Callen eyed the shiny sliver of metal in Deeks's hand. "No."
"Look, Callen, Hetty will flay the skin from my bones if I let you get infected, and then Sam will take great pleasure in breaking those bones. It is three stitches max. Just let me do it." Deeks pleaded. "I'll even blindfold you, if you want."
Callen snorted. "You are not blindfolding me. Ever." He finally sighed.
"Sorry, Deeks." He sat and held his arm out again. "I guess I'm just on edge."
Deeks sat and threaded the needle. "It's okay to be on edge, Callen. Keeps you on your toes."
Callen snorted. "I just freaked out over a two inch needle, Deeks. I think I'm past being on my toes." He suddenly slammed his free hand down on the table. Deeks squeaked and jumped, his face flushing in embarrassment. Callen barely noticed. "I am just so sick of it! Damn it, I lived in thirty-seven places. Most of them were crappy; and a few of them were violent. Kimball wasn't even the worst… so why is it so hard for me to move on from this one? I even came to terms with Jason's death! Why not this one?"
How'd he do that? Callen thought again, astonished at his own sudden outburst. He got me to do it again!
"You were ten, Callen. Those kinds of things don't just heal, especially if you don't let that anger out. And at the time…you didn't have anyone to let it out to, did you?" Deeks guessed. Callen frowned. Deeks continued. "And you just got reminded of it, after you thought it was over forever. I'm guessing if you saw the guy that beat...Jason; you would find you haven't come to terms as well as you think you did. And, I am guessing that Kimball was the first violent one, am I right?"
Callen nodded sharply, then looked away, signaling he didn't want to talk anymore. Deeks's words hit home in a way Callen hated; he wanted to drop the whole thing.
"Callen, I don't know who you were even two years ago; but I know who you are now. I know you are one of the strongest people I know; I know you are strong enough to fight. But I think you're strong enough to walk away, too. Strong enough to let go." Deeks's voice was quiet but firm. "You just need to talk it out, let it out of its box. And I'm not the one you need to talk it out with." He nodded towards the bathroom. Callen understood.
"And I would recommend doing it soon; the faster you let go the faster Kimball loses his hold over you." Deeks stood. "See? The stitches weren't that bad, were they?"
Callen looked down quickly. He hadn't even noticed Deeks stitching up his arm. He glanced up. "Thanks, Marty."
The use of his birth name let Deeks know Callen wasn't just thanking him for the first aid. "Anytime." He nodded.
Just then Sam came into the room, rubbing his neck. "I saved you some hot water, G…" He trailed off, looking at the white bandages that covered Callen's arm from wrist to elbow. "I knew you weren't fine." He said in a friendly, teasing way. Callen looked from Deeks to Sam. "You have no idea." He said quietly.
The wall between him and his emotions trembled and he swallowed. Deeks ducked out quickly, leaving Sam and Callen alone in the kitchen. Sam walked casually to the fridge and began rummaging for food. Callen looked at the door to the basement and swallowed again.
"Sam?"
His partner looked up expectantly. "Yeah, G?"
"I think I'm ready to stop lying."
