Ok, I know a lot of people hate author's notes and there are a few of them with this chapter so my apologies ahead of time!

A/N – Huge thanks to Raderle, who graciously allowed me to use aspects and characters from her wonderful story "Who is Marty Deeks?" This doesn't completely follow her story line, as I'd already set some things up in prior chapters that don't mesh with it, but I think her characters are wonderful and wanted to pay a little tribute to them here!

A/N2 – Thanks, as always, to my beta and friend, Honus47! She finds my mistakes, she keeps me honest and she talks me down off the ledge…when I let her!

A/N3 – To all my guest reviewers who I can't respond to personally: Thank you! Je vous remercie! ¡Gracias! Vielen Dank! Grazie! I'd also like to thank those who commented on women in combat. I contemplated going back and changing Christy's background a little but then decided to leave it as is. Everyone who serves, in whatever capacity, is critical to the functioning of the armed forces.

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Chapter 10

Callen stared up at the ceiling of their shelter, a little of the night sky visible around the edges, his hands clasped behind his head, ankles crossed. He'd had no luck falling asleep, even one of his famous cat naps eluded him. It wasn't the ground; he'd slept on harder surfaces over the years, some of them beds in small rundown hotels. No, it was the questions about Deeks and the situation at hand that kept running through his head and chased away any chance at even a fitful slumber. Who was Chet? Why did he seem familiar? Who was taking these kids and why? What little he'd learned about their Liaison's childhood had piqued his curiosity and he wanted to hear about the rest. He wanted answers to the questions about how often he came down here, why everyone seemed to know him, what was his part in creating this network of people who called themselves the Protectors. It sounded like something out of a comic book and yet there was something oddly compelling about it. They all went round and round like a hamster on a wheel. He knew Deeks was as stubborn as he was and he also understood why the younger man might want to keep some things private. He also had things of his own that he'd rather not share. Understanding that, didn't squelch the need to know. He'd always thought his innate curiosity was part of why he was such a good agent but tonight it was driving him crazy.

He listened to Deeks's even breathing, envying him the escape of sleep. He was therefore surprised when the man in question said. "G, I can hear you thinking from here. What's going on in that head of yours?"

"I have questions, Artie. Ones you refuse to answer or just plain ignore."

"Well, I have questions of my own."

"Such as?"

"We're really going to play this game?" Deeks rolled over, propped his head on his fist and looked at him.

"Why not? You ask me, I ask you, we don't answer what we don't want to. It's one way to pass the night if neither one of us can sleep. Course, we can always tell ghost stories instead."

Deeks quickly shook his head no and said. "Ok then. I ask first."

"I'm senior, I get to go first."

"Nope, it's my way or the highway. I'm perfectly content to just sleep the night away."

"So, you're telling me you've not curious about me?"

"G, you know me by now. I'm curious about everyone. However, I also know what it's like to be asked questions I don't really want to answer. I can respect that desire in someone else. Well, except maybe for Kensi. From the very beginning I wanted to know everything I could about her and never let her push me off."

Callen opened his mouth to comment on that there was no 'maybe' about it when he realized that Deeks had done it again. He'd almost distracted him from his original intent and this time, he was having no part of it. He drew in a deep breath and let it out as he wondered if he could do this, this whole idea of tit for tat in the dark, under the L.A. night sky. He decided he could give it a try...with safe guards. "Fine. You get to ask first. But we both agree that, if a question is asked that we don't want to answer, then no is no and we don't push."

Deeks hesitated. He'd been so sure that Callen would decline and he'd be off the hook. He thought about it some more and figured that this might be the only time he'd ever be able to ask questions of the legendary G. Callen and not get beat up or shot. Wait, correct that. Grisha Alexandrovich Nikolaev Callen. He smiled as he remembered Sam teasing his partner and best friend about getting a new badge with the whole name on it, saying that he was surprised it all fit. He let out the breath and agreed, hoping he wasn't making a mistake, pretty sure Callen was thinking the same.

"Ok, G. My first question." He paused and one popped into his head. He asked quietly, wanting to be sure that no one could accidentally, or on purpose, overhear him. "During the microbot case, when Sonny Amador was killed trying to blackmail the traitor, you told his buddy Lance that you'd been in 37 foster homes. You said some of them were good until something happened. I've wondered since then, what kind of things happened?"

All things considered, Callen thought this wasn't so bad a start. He wondered if Deeks was trying to ease his way into this game they were playing. He thought of two stories he could relate and suddenly realized, it wasn't as easy as he'd first believed. He found he'd almost rather the question had been about the abuse he'd let slip a couple times. For some reason, this bothered him more than that. These were the times when his hopes had been raised and then crushed. The ones where he was hurt by the people who were supposed to care for him? That had come to be expected. He gathered his thoughts. I can do this.

"When I was nine, I was sent to a home where the couple was good to me. I wanted so desperately to fit in, to be wanted. I was so tired of being shuttled from place to place. I started doing things around the house to help out, without being asked. Clearing the table, loading the dishwasher, helping with yard work. They had a biological son of their own, about thirteen if I remember correctly. He was either at school, out with his friends or holed up in his room every day and he balked at doing any chores. At first, it was all good with him. He didn't have to do anything; I'd do it for him. Eventually his folks started to ask him why he couldn't be more like me and this didn't sit so well with him. The first time it was a cassette tape that went missing and somehow ended up in my room. He made quite a stink about it being gone and about how I'd said I wished it was mine."

He laughed humorlessly. "I didn't even like the group! I told his dad that and he believed me, he'd heard me give my opinion about their music. He fluffed it off as the tape getting caught up with something else. Like maybe his wife had accidentally picked it up with the laundry and left it in my room. Everything was okay for a couple days, until the next item went missing and once again showed up in my room. This time it was the kid's watch that had been given to him by his grandfather. This time the father remembered that I'd admired it and, yeah, he easily believed I'd stolen it. Like that cheap watch would be what I would've taken if that was my intent! I made the mistake of saying his son had planted it and I was being framed. He backhanded me and told me to keep my filthy mouth shut!" He realized he was getting heated and took a calming breath. "I was sent back to the orphanage that day, my continuing denials falling on deaf ears and I was branded a thief."

"G…"

"Let me repeat what you said to me this morning Artie. Never pity me!"

Deeks huffed out a laugh. "I would never think to pity you! I value my life."

"You'd better!"

"I have a feeling that wasn't the only time."

"Oh no, it's my turn."

"I'll give you that. Ok, your turn."

Callen thought for a bit. There were so many that came to mind. He decided on one. Like Deeks, he asked quietly, his voice low and serious. "You seem to know this area really well but say you never actually lived on the streets. How is that? I know you don't have all that much free time to come down here and map it out, at least not now. Between work and Kensi, I can't see you being able to be here more than maybe one day or night every few weeks."

There was silence for a moment and Callen figured he'd be hearing Deeks say no and he'd have to move on. He was surprised when he a softly spoken. "Her name was Trina."

Callen waited to hear what came next, not sure what one had to do with the other. When there was no follow-up, Callen prompted him. "Trina?"

Deeks sighed and rolled back onto his back. He stared up at the underneath of the tarp and remembered the first time he'd run away and ended up down here. "I was seven. My dad had beat my mom almost unconscious. When she wasn't any more sport, he turned on me. It wasn't the first time; it was just the first time it got that bad. I managed to get away from him and ran until I couldn't run anymore. I ended up down here, bruised and bloody. We didn't live all that far away but I was just a kid. I was scared and I was lost. This big black woman approached me. She was dirty and dressed in ragged clothes but, for some reason, I didn't fear her. Maybe I had just given up. She was gentle and she was kind. She listened to me, didn't talk down to me. I ended up telling her everything, things I hadn't told anyone else about what was going on at home. She asked me if there was anyone at school I could talk to. I told her I was afraid of what would happen if I did. Told her I was afraid for my mother and what would happen to her if I wasn't there. She understood and asked me if I truly wanted to go home. I said yes and then freaked out when I realized I didn't know how to get there. She walked me to the nearest bus stop and talked the driver into letting me get on for free. It didn't get me home, but it did get me to a place I recognized. When I finally got there, dad had passed out on the couch and mom had bandaged herself up. She didn't seem to even realize I'd been gone."

He paused and Callen was silent, not wanting to break his concentration. "After that, Trina was a refuge of sorts. I would come down here when I could, or when I needed to get away from him, and she would walk me around. She had a speech impediment that made it hard for her to pronounce her M's so when she introduced me as Marty, it sounded like Artie and so he was born. Most everyone loved her and no one bothered me when I was with her. I learned the area pretty well during those visits, over the weeks and months and years. I was kind of informally adopted by her and her friends. It was her home and she was good to me. That makes it important to me. I still come down when I can, do what I can. I know that, if I'd said I didn't want to go home, that I didn't want to be turned over to the state, that she would have taken me in, protected me with her life. I loved her for that."

"She sounds amazing."

"That she was." He cleared his throat a little, choked up at the memories. "My turn. Second incident you thought of telling me after the theft one." Knowing Deeks was done for the moment and surprised that the other man had somehow known there was more than one, Callen settled himself deeper into the grass under his butt, trying to make himself a little more comfortable, not sure if he really wanted to relive this one. Surprisingly, the last story had been a little cathartic so he decided to chance it.

"I was thirteen this time and starting to fill out, not the scrawny little kid I used to be. I was taken in by family of three who were willing to take a chance on a thief. This time they had a daughter, much older than me. She was seventeen and daddy's little girl. Jake had desperately wanted a son but they'd only had the one child. She was as girly as they came and he was into cars and sports. I'd learned to be careful by then, I did what I was asked to do but I didn't go above and beyond, didn't single myself out from the biological child, or at least, so I thought. I liked cars, I liked sports and Jake and I bonded over that. He began teaching me how to keep a car in good shape and he was the one who introduced me to the more intricate details of baseball and football. I thought things were good and I let my guard down a little." He paused, remembering, then continued.

"Turned out Amanda wasn't happy that she no longer had daddy's undivided attention. All it took was him telling her she couldn't have the car one Saturday because he was showing me how to change the oil and suddenly I was public enemy number one. A few nights later, she knocked on my door and asked for my help, said there was a spider in her bedroom. I knew she hated them and I fell for it. I went with her and, once I was in the room, she ripped her nightgown at the neck and started screaming. Mommy and daddy came running and she accused me of coming into her room while she was asleep and assaulting her, touching her, trying to kiss her. Jake was beyond livid and I thought my life would end that night no matter how much I tried to tell him the truth. I think a little part of him believed me because he only beat me bloody, not unconscious. And so, back I went. I thought for sure I'd have another black mark against my name, this time as a sex offender. Like I said, I think he suspected what the truth was but…it was his little girl versus a kid off the streets who they'd taken in out of the goodness of their hearts. The mother believed everything Amanda said and she wanted me gone that moment. Jake took care of it but told the social worker it just hadn't worked out, didn't mention the supposed assault."

"That's just messed up!"

"Tell me about it. Funny thing is? I ran into her in a bar a little over ten years ago. I had just made the switch from the company to NCIS. We'd had a long difficult case that was finally over but it had cost us one of our own. Sam and I were partners but we weren't friends back then, not like we are today, so I really didn't have anyone to decompress with. I stopped in, alone, to have a beer and try to wind down. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, when these two women sat down next to me. The one closest to me started to come on to me and I was a little interested until I turned to look at her. I recognized her immediately. She hadn't changed that much, just older and harder. Talk about a buzz kill!"

"What did you do?"

"Well, it was obvious that she had no idea who I was. I was older, taller. I'd filled out. I let her go on for a bit and then indicated I was totally not interested, might even have been a little brutal about it. To say she didn't take it well…that would be an understatement. I got the feeling she was still used to getting what she wanted, something else that hadn't changed. She started yelling at the top of her lungs, asking why I wouldn't leave them alone, why I couldn't take the hint that she wasn't interested, to keep my hands off her. Trying to make it sound like I'd been harassing her. Her girlfriend made herself small, looked like she was trying to sink into the floor. It only took a few seconds for the bouncer to show up. I never even looked at him, just pulled out my badge, opened it and said 'Federal Agent'. He walked away and she was silent, but I could see the wheels turning. I put my badge away, threw money on the bar and stood up. I looked down at her and asked 'Still afraid of spiders, Amanda?' and then I headed for the door. She started yelling at me again, saying she remembered me now, that she couldn't believe they'd let a rapist become a federal agent."

"Oh man…"

"Yeah, not what I was looking for when I stepped into that bar. I turned back and looked at her. Then I said calmly and quietly, but loud enough to be heard by everyone in that bar, 'You need help Amanda. I hear most health insurances cover psychiatric care. You should look into that.' I turned around to leave but I will always remember the look of utter shock on her face. I'm not proud to say I felt some satisfaction. As I walked out the door, the bouncer patted me on the shoulder and whispered that I shouldn't worry about what she'd said. She was a regular and they'd had issues with her before, no one would believe a word she said. I just nodded at him and left."

"Jesus G, Nate would have a field day with her!"

Callen started to laugh, picturing Nate having a go at Amanda. He knew that was exactly the response Deeks had been going for and he felt a little lighter. "Ok, my turn again. You told me how you met Trina and that she was a refuge for you. Tell me more about why."

Deeks sighed and thought about it. He sat up and pulled his legs in, Indian style, resting his arms on his knees. There was something about it being dark out, something about knowing the man opposite him would probably understand, that led him to being open and honest. Something he hoped he wouldn't regret tomorrow in the bright light of day. "The beatings at home got worse. I ended up in the hospital so many times. Each time, I listened carefully to what my dad said and I repeated it when the doctor or nurse asked me what happened. I'm pretty sure they suspected but they couldn't prove anything and eventually had to send me home with him. When I was eight, Ray moved in next door and I had an ally. When I was ten, he saw how things were headed and gave me a .38 for protection, told me not to ask where he got it. He taught me how to load it, how to shoot it. I tried to get him to come down to the Row to meet Trina but he wouldn't go. He badmouthed the homeless in that area, parroting what his own abusive dad had said. So, I would come down by myself when I just couldn't stand it anymore. More often than not, covered in old and new bruises. Ones I'd hide at school under long sleeved shirts and long pants. When I came down here, more often than not I had on shorts and a t-shirt to try to keep cool. I could tell it bothered her but she didn't judge me for staying. I always wondered if she understood, if she'd gone through something similar. You know what happened when I was eleven. Dad got so bad one day after losing yet another job. He was so drunk he could barely stand but he managed to beat me with a broom, breaking my left arm in three places. He'd already beaten my mom unconscious. I knew I didn't have a choice, nobody else was going to protect us. I went and got that gun but, when I got back to the kitchen, I saw that he'd already pulled out his shotgun. He actually shot it at me, left me with some buckshot in the right side. I didn't think, I didn't hesitate. I shot him. I dropped the gun and ran without thinking, so sure that the police would put me in jail. There were only two people I could turn to and I was afraid to bring trouble down on one of them. So, I ran to Trina."

"Did she help you?"

Deeks felt the vestiges of the long ago grief well up. "No. When I got down here, I found one of her friends, told them I needed to talk to her. I was in pain, bleeding and barely coherent. He told me Trina had died a few days earlier. No one was really sure why, she just didn't wake up one morning. I just stood there in shock, not able to think, not able to plan. I turned away from him and ran again. Somehow I ended up back home. I found myself thinking that maybe I'd just let it happen. Maybe jail would be better than what home had become. I got there before the police. I guess it took a while before someone in the neighborhood worked up enough interest to call them. Everything was just the way I'd left it. Mom and dad both bleeding on the floor. I wasn't sure if either one of them was even alive. I picked up the gun again and trained it on him, afraid that, if he wasn't dead he might wake up at any moment and come after me again. That's how the police found me."

Callen wasn't sure what to say. He knew Deeks wouldn't want any platitudes or pity so he said the first thing that came into his head. "Good for you!" Deeks just stared at him, open mouthed. "What? Did you think I was gonna tell you that you shouldn't have shot the bastard? That you shouldn't have done everything in your power to protect yourself and your mom? Jesus, there were times I was in places that I would have given anything to have a gun. My only choice was to run but then, I didn't have anyone I loved that I was leaving behind."

Deeks mouth closed as he thought over what this man, a man whose opinion he respected, had just said and he finally found a measure of acceptance within himself for his actions that day. "That…that means a lot to me, coming from you."

"I mean it Artie. I would have done the same thing. Hell, I'm not sure I would even have waited as long as you did."

"Yeah, well, we all know you have a tendency to go all lone wolf at times and with no Hetty around to taser you."

As a joke, it fell flat, but Callen knew he was trying to cover up the emotions his story had brought up. He let it slide. "So, what happened?"

"One of the cops talked me into giving up the gun, assured me I wasn't going to jail. He told me that he knew about all the domestic calls his precinct took from our house. Once he had the gun, the paramedics were allowed in and we were all taken to the hospital. I didn't want them to work on me. I was out of my mind with fear, convinced my mom was dead and that somehow, some way, I was to blame. Afraid that they were going to hurt me. I finally told them about the one other person I trusted. Told them, screamed at them that I wanted Sam."

"Sam?"

"Samuel Deeks. He was a friend and the only adult I really trusted. He owned a music shop that I stumbled into one day. He took his time with me, taught me to trust him. Hell, he even got Ray to trust him and that is one hard nut to crack. Sam always told me I could count on him whenever I needed him. He knew something bad was going on at home. The hospital called him and he came right away. He calmed me down, got me to allow the doctors to take care of me. He was my first and last foster home. Lasted sixty days."

"He gave you up?" Callen was furious.

"No, G, he adopted me. Gave me my first real experience of what a happy home was like. He loved me like a son and showed me what a father should be. He was a widower with no kids of his own. His wife and unborn child had died years ago. It was tough to convince the courts that he was the right person to take me on but we were lucky. We had a sympathetic social worker on our side. He worked tirelessly to get it approved and I've thanked my lucky stars every day since then. I would have turned out much differently without Sam's influence in my life."

"Is he still alive?"

"No." The tone in Deeks's voice let Callen know to leave this line of questioning alone.

"Was he related to you?"

"No."

"So Deeks isn't your birth name?"

"No, I was born Martin Andrew Brandel. I changed my name as soon as Sam adopted me. I wanted no part of Gordon John Brandel left in my life."

"What about crazy Aunt Barbara? She didn't want you?"

"No, she never wanted children and, while I think she cares about me… from a distance, she wanted no part of Brandel's brat in her home. My mom was her sister and she hated my dad with a passion for what she knew he was doing to her. To this day I think she's still worried that he's lurking in me somewhere." He sighed and said softly. "I can understand her concern."

"You what? Why in the world would you think that?"

"He's a part of my genetic makeup, G. And there are times when I see him in me, especially when I'm under as Max. Max is based on him and he scares me sometimes."

"You are not your father and you never will be! I've seen you as Max, we all have. We also all have aliases just as bad, some even worse. It's an unfortunate part of the job. But, if you were your father, you wouldn't come back from it like you do, even when it's hard to."

Something Nate said to him on the beach in Venice when he'd tracked him down for their 'talk' after Sidorov, popped into Deeks's head. Quietly he said. "I guess it would be of more concern if I didn't worry about it?"

"Damn straight. You're a good man and I have no worries that you'd ever treat Kensi, or any other woman, the way your dad treated your mom. Have you ever beaten up a woman when you were under as Max?"

"What? No! Other guys, yeah, but never a woman! May have treated them badly, hurt their feelings but I never laid a hand on any of them, not in that way!"

"There you go then."

Deeks blew out a breath, thinking about what Callen had said. He wondered if he would ever be able to fully let go of the fear that he could turn into his father and then he realized, maybe it's a good thing that he didn't. It kept him vigilant and careful. He felt some of the weight on his shoulders lift a little. It would never be fully gone, but it was manageable. He grinned at the senior agent who wrinkled his nose at the sight of the fake rotted teeth. "Mind not doing that Artie? Makes my skin crawl!"

He laughed and flopped back down on his back. Unexpectedly, a huge yawn escaped. "Enough show and tell for tonight G?"

"Yeah, I think I've had enough. Try to get some sleep." With that, Deeks rolled over and was gone within moments. Callen slowly sat up and watched him sleep. He thought about everything they'd shared tonight and knew he would never tell another living soul what Deeks had told him, not even to his Sam, just like he knew Deeks would never repeat his stories, even to Kensi. He sighed, they were quite the pair. He reached out and placed a gentle hand lightly on Deeks's shoulder. "I'm here and I'll watch out for you, always."

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A/N4 – Yes 4! I wanted to focus on the foster homes Callen was in where the parents weren't abusive. I think we can all imagine what happened there. Instead, I wanted to explore the ones he mentioned in the episode Skin Deep where it starts out good, the child begins to get comfortable and then something happens.