Tuesday 28th September 2010
Human Traffic: Epilogue

"Go after him."

I turned round in astonishment to find Sam standing there, with his arms crossed. "Go on," he added, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What are you waiting for" Callen adding, striking the same post. Honestly, I've I wasn't so worried about Deeks, I would be asking some serious questions about those guys. First it's Callen staying with Sam and his mysterious 'wife' (whom nobody has ever seen and whose existence I am seriously beginning to doubt) in his 'spare room', and now they're mirroring each other's body language. I'm not so daft I can't see what's right under my nose. Still, live and let live, that's what I say. They wouldn't be the first partners with benefits after all. It is strange though, because I was almost sure Callen had a bit of a thing for me thought.

"He needs someone." Sam jerked his thumb in the direction Deeks had gone off in. "Guy's hurting right now and there's no telling what he might do." He sounded worried. More than that, he sounded like he actually cared.

"And you're his partner." Callen smiled at me. "He needs you."

So I went after Deeks. Not because I was stuck on him, and certainly not because I was smitten with him – but becauseI was his partner. And because right now I was the only person he had. And after all the effort we'd gone to saving his butt, I didn't want Deeks to go and screw everything up. I ran after him and found him without any difficulty. He was standing just around the corner, leaning back against a wall with his head bent down. And he was breathing hard, like he was trying to take back control of his life.

"Deeks?"

His head jerked up. "That's my name. Of course, I haven't heard it much in the past few months." He was nursing his right hand and I could see that his knuckles were bleeding and bruised.

"Looks like you've done yourself a bit of damage there."

"That? That's nothing. You should see the rest of me." And then he smiled, a slow smile that looked almost automatic, because it went nowhere near his eyes. The mask slipped back down into place and the familiar light-hearted note crept back into his speech. "And that is not an invitation, Fern. My body is a temple, don't you know? A sacred place, to be approached with due reverence."

It was like he'd been reading my mind or something – all those dreams I'd been having about worshipping before the glory that was Deeks – particularly gloriously naked Deeks. Not that I was about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. And anyway, that nonchalant pose he was assuming didn't fool me for one second.

"Shut up, Deeks. Just shut up, will you? And let me look after you. God knows, you need someone to look after you, judging by the state you're in right now. You look like something the cat dragged in." I wasn't taking 'no' for an answer; in fact I'd grabbed his hand and was dragging him towards his hire car.

"You say the nicest things." Deeks wasn't exactly putting up much resistance, in fact he was trotting along quite meekly at my side.

"And you don't have to put on that front. Not with me. Not right now." I turned around and stared directly into his eyes, those eyes that can be so dreamy, or so angry and found that they were clouded with confusion, so that he looked like a little boy. "We're partners, Deeks. Partners – okay?"

He knew what that meant: he knew exactly what it meant. Your partner is the person you are closest to: they are the person you literally trust with your life. So that means you can trust them with other things too.

"Sure. Whatever you say." His shoulders kind of sagged when he said that, and all the fight went out of him. "But I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital."

I could have made him to hospital, simply by poking him sharply in the solar plexus, which I was pretty sure was covered in bruises. But that would have been cruel. I've got other, more subtle weapons at my disposal. And anyway, he looked so pathetic, like some puppy that is just waiting to be kicked. "I'll believe you, Deeks. Thousands wouldn't, but I will. Aren't you lucky you've got such a trusting partner?"

"Believe me, I've been thanking my lucky stars since the first day I saw you in the Warrior's gym. Every single day and every single night."

I was tempted to go along with that, because it was such a cute image: Deeks thinking of me as he lay in bed at night. Or not. Somehow I didn't think he was thinking chaste thoughts. But I couldn't let him see how much he got to me. "I did not give you permission to have fantasies about me, Deeks."

"They were good ones, Kensi – really good."

"I don't care." I wondered if they were half as good as the fantasies I'd had about him. Somehow, I doubted it.

"So when are you going to give me permission? On my birthday? Or how about Christmas - -that's sooner."

"How about never?" I shoved him none to gently into the passenger seat and he winced slightly.

"How come you're driving and it's my car?"

"How come Superman wears his underpants on top of his tights?" I countered. Sometimes you have to think laterally with Deeks and this was one of those occasions.

Deeks was silent for a bit as he pondered this. "How come he wears tights in the first place?" He actually sounded serious, like it really mattered.

There wasn't any answer to that, so I just drove instead. And guess where we ended up? I'll give you a clue: it was not at the hospital. Well, I tried to suggest it again, and Deeks turned those soulful eyes on me… I bet he did that to the midwife when he was born, and managed to get out of having his butt slapped. And I bet that ever since then there have been lots of women whose hands have just itched to smack some sense into him. Or just to smack that great butt.


Which was how we ended up at the beach. Not just any beach, but this 'special' beach Deeks directed me to. It was kind of pretty and it was well away from the normal tourist meccas. In fact, it was deserted, so there was just me, Deeks and the sun slowly sinking down into the ocean. Under other circumstances, it could have been romantic. If I was with another guy, of course, instead of being with a bashed-up Deeks. He did look kind of cute though, in a bruised, rumpled sort of way. That is the downside about being partners with someone – you have to put your own personal feeling aside a lot of the time. This is exactly the sort of thing you have to do for your partner: you get to freeze your ass off on a deserted beach and in doing so you pass up possibly them most romantic moment you've had in years, simply because you don't want to go and ruin everything. Frank and Nancy Sinatra knew what they were singing about, believe me.

Somewhere during our drive, the sun had set and there was a cold wind starting to come in from the ocean. When I looked at Deeks he was almost blue with the cold. "You're shivering." The breeze was moulding his shirt to his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination. He'd left his jacket in the car, of course. Men – I ask you. None of them have the sense they were born with.

Deeks shrugged again. He seemed to be doing an awful lot of that. "My blood sugar's probably a bit low."

That didn't sound good. Deeks is slim, but he's also tall and well-muscled. If he passed out on me, there was no way I could lug him back up the beach to the car. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

He thought about this for a moment. "Yesterday morning?" He didn't sound too sure about that. "I had a cup of coffee with Hetty earlier today though."

Well, that made it all right, didn't it? He'd put a whole cup of coffee into his system in thirty-six hours and he sounded like he thought that made everything just fine. "You need to eat, Deeks."

"I'm not really hungry." His hair was blowing wildly around in the wind and he looked frozen to the marrow. I looked at him standing there, staring out across the ocean hands jammed into his pockets and this looks of despair on his face. I reminded me of a lines from a song: 'You walk past a café, but you don't eat when you've lived too long.' This operation had taken a huge toll on him, and that's the truth. He can't hide it anymore and I don't think he's got the strength to even try to pretend that everything is fine. Deeks needs someone to look after him. It's a good thing he's got me.

I couldn't help myself: I took hold of his hand again. "How about another cup of coffee? I'm buying."

"You're buying? Then I'm drinking."

"Good." Maybe I could dump a couple of spoons of sugar into the brew without him noticing. I might even be able to force a brownie down his throat. Everyone likes brownies, right?

"I make a point never turning down an invitation from a beautiful lady."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Deeks." Not tonight, at any rate. Mainly because what he needs is to go to bed and sleep for about a week. A deep and dreamless sleep.

"It'll get me a cup of coffee though. I'll settle for that." He gave my hand a squeeze and then pulled me close. "How about we go back to the car before my junk turns into a popsicle?"

"You are so disgusting." I pulled back, but I was smiling. "Seeing as you look so pathetic, I'll even put the heater on for you."

"You say the nicest things."

"You have no idea." He doesn't know the half of it. Deeks has no idea about all the things I'd love to say to him, at the same time as I am draping my body across his and running my hands through his hair as we lie together in bed. And he's never going to find out, because that is never going to happen. Which is a pity. And it is turning into a beautiful evening and walking hand-in-hand along the beach with Deeks could have been the start of something epic. Oh well – maybe it'll just be the start of a beautiful friendship instead? And nobody has actually died of frustration, have they? If I'm wrong about that – I don't want to know. I'll just die in ignorance.


We're sitting in a coffee shop and Deeks has finally stopped shivering. He's got both hands wrapped around his coffee cup and, as he moves it towards his face, I notice that his eyes half close as he savours the aromas floating upwards. The cup hesitates for a second and then he takes that first sip, and at that exact moment his eyes shut fully and an ecstatic look transforms his face. Finally, once he's swallowed, Deeks lets out a low groan of pleasure.

Wow. That was – pretty graphic. Deeks is clearly a man who revels in the sensory delights of the world. If this is how he acts to a coffee, what the hell is he going to do when he's, errr – rather more involved in the moment? If you get my drift. I never knew there was such a thing as coffee porn before – well, I know now.

"Good?" I ask. I'm just glad the shop is almost deserted, because I never imagined I'd be playing in a remake of When Harry Met Sally, and especially not with Deeks playing the Meg Ryan role. Although they do have similar hair, now I come to think about it – all thick, blond and shaggy.

Deeks is looking a whole lot more relaxed now. In fact he looks almost exactly like someone who has just been transported in raptures, heights, if you know what I mean. "You have no idea," he sighs happily and then takes another sip. He seems equally delighted with that one too.

No, but I would like to. I'd like that very much. "You've got foam on your moustache." Without thinking I stretch across the table and brush my fingertip slowly across the place where the short golden stubble meets his upper lip. And then I feel like a complete idiot, sitting there looking at this coffee foam lining the edge of my index finger. What the hell do I do now? I settle for slipping my finger into my own mouth, and Deeks' eyes open just a little wider. What was I meant to do? Wipe it on my jeans or something? That would be gross.

"Kensi?" His voice is low, and he's looking down at the coffee cup, which is still cradled in both hands. "Thank you." He doesn't need to say any more, because we both understand. Sometimes it's the words you do not say that have the most meaning.

"You're welcome." I could leave there, in fact I probably should leave it there – but I can't. "I've got to look out for you – partner." And for some reason, I put my hand on top of his and smile at him.

His eyes are so blue and they are an instant guide to what he is feeling. Deeks is a good actor, but he's not that good. He can't hide the hurt and hope in his eyes. "You mean that? Even after…"

"Even after we had to haul your butt out of there? Yeah, well – you saved Sam and Callen a couple of months back, so we kind of had to, didn't we? We owed you."

"I owe you." Deeks looks at my hand, which is still resting on top of his and then he looks up at me, and I think that there's a little less hurt in his eyes now and a whole lot more hope.

"I'll hold you to that." I give his hands a little pat. "And I'm going to start calling in that favour right now."

Is that a pout I see? Surely not. Grown men do not pout, after all. "I don't need to go to hospital."

"Who said anything about hospital?"


I didn't have the heart to make Deeks go to hospital, even though I knew he should have got himself checked over. Basically I am a complete sucker for those wide-eyed appealing looks that Deeks has got down to a fine art. We swung by the apartment he was using under his alias as Dale John Sully, the corrupt lawyer who was not averse to a little human trafficking, just as long as the money was right, and we grabbed his personal stuff.

"Are these yours or the department's?" I asked, pointing to at least four other business suits hanging in the closet. I still wasn't used to Deeks in a suit and it seemed strange to even contemplate he might even own more than one. Every guy has to have at least one suit, after all – for weddings and funerals, at least. Unless they're in the services, of course, when dress uniform will do nicely.

"They're mine," he said shortly. "Remnants of a misspent youth."

"So I heard."

"Don't believe everything you hear." Deeks grabbed the suits, some dress shirts and a handful of ties and stuffed them all into a garment bag, and then put the remainder of his belongings into a kit bag. It didn't take long to pack all his stuff, mainly because there wasn't much of it, other than the clothes.

"No hairbrush?" I couldn't resist it.

He gave me a very old-fashioned look. "Can I change my mind about going to the hospital now? Because my sides are splitting."

It was just the opening I'd been waiting for. "You've got a choice – you can either go to the hospital, or you can come back to my place and let me check you over." I sighed when he raised those eyebrows in what I suspected was his trademark suggestive look. "Medically speaking, Deeks. Down boy."

"You're so heartless, Fern – you lead a guy on and then you drop him right back down."

"I'll have you put down if you don't start to behave, Deeks. And start to look after yourself."

"But I've got you now, Fern. You'll look after me, won't you?" he cajoled, almost like he was flirting with me.

"Somebody has to, I guess." It was a hard job, but somebody had to do it. And it looked like that somebody was me.

"Thanks, Kensi." The joking tone was completely absent from his voice now and he was staring straight at me, with those eyes that were so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

"Just don't make a habit of it, okay Deeks?"

"I think I can manage that. I'll try."

Oh, he was trying, all right. He would try the patience of a saint. And I am no saint. Far from it.

Anyway, that was how we ended up back at my apartment, just me and Deeks.


There's a couple of song references in there: Somethin' Stupid, by Frank and Nancy, which I'll always associate with my Dad, and then Rock and Roll Suicide, by David Bowie.

Anyway, you'll see that this epilogue has not ended. It was only intended to be one chapter, but like Topsy, it just grew and grew. Part two will be coming tomorrow.