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Marty Deeks has to work out his relationships with his partners. One is the love of his life, but she is no longer available to him. The other has always been there, but can he love her enough?
Disclaimer: The characters and sets of NCIS:LA are all owned by CBS, Donald P. Bellisario, and Shane Brennan. I only own a copy of the DVDs from season 1-5 (but I do have season 6 on order). I do get to play with everyone, but they all have to be home by curfew.
Do Not Speak Ill of the Dead
Chapter 10
Ops, Mission Headquarters || September 29, 2010
Finally, the case was over. Deeks still had a lot of things to wrap up before he could consider it done. The first thing he had to do was Hetty's paperwork, then the paperwork he had to turn in to Lieutenant Bates at LAPD. Hetty's wasn't that hard to do. He became just like a robot, busy typing to answer all the questions, offering a short explanation on his part in the operation.
The after mission report for Bates was a different story. He sat staring at it for almost an hour, wondering what he could put down that would adequately express what had happened. The plain truth was that his partner had been killed, and he wasn't there to try to stop it. But Jess wasn't just his partner. She was the one with whom he could have spent the rest of his life. She was dead, and it was his fault. Deeks didn't even remember what he put down in the report. There were words on the page so he threw it onto Bates' desk and walked back out of the South Bureau Police Building without saying a word to anyone else.
When he got back to his apartment, he put in a call to Captain Murray, Jess' former boss in Chicago.
"Captain Murray? I'm Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD. I'm calling on behalf of Jess Traynor, I'm sorry, I mean Karen Hendricks. It's just so hard for me to call her that. I always just knew her as Jess."
"Karen once called me and said that she had been partnered with you. How is she doing out in the land of sun and fun?"
"Sir, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Jess was killed on the last mission we were teamed up on. Her car was blown up just as she got in. She died instantly. I'm sorry, sir. I was undercover and wasn't able to prevent it." Deeks struggled hard to keep the tears from falling.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Detective. Karen told me that she thought the two of you could become more than just partners on the job. She thought a lot about you and knew she had found someone who was very important in her life."
"I should have been with her, though. I could have done something. She should be the one who is still walking around, not me."
"Detective, you were doing your job, just like I imagine that Karen was doing. You can't blame yourself for what someone else did to her."
"Well, all I can do for her now is to bring her home. She said you knew a judge that had her declared dead and someone else buried in her place. I was wondering if you could get that judge to order that body to be exhumed so that I could bury her with the rest of her family?"
"I'm sure that we can arrange that, Detective Deeks. When would you like the grave site to be available?"
"Whenever it is convenient for you. I just want to accompany the body to Chicago and stay for whatever service that can be set up for her."
"Of course, I understand."
"One other thing, sir. I know she was so proud of her police service. There won't be any viewing because she was burned so extensively. But I was wondering, would it be against any protocols if I have her clothed in her uniform for her interment? I just feel that would be something that she would want."
"No, Detective. Go right ahead."
"Thank you, sir."
"Detective, can I reach you at this number? I will give you a call when we have everything set up here."
"Yeah. This is my personal cell. If I don't answer, just leave a message and I will get back to you.
With that, Deeks hung up the phone and steeled himself to go over to Jess' apartment and make a final disposition of her things.
. . . . .
Traynor's Apartment, Harbor City, CA || September 29, 2010
Deeks had already decided that all of Jess' clothing would be donated to the woman's shelter where he still did pro-bono work. All of the personal pictures and her jewelry he would take with him and decide how to dispose of them later. He had already talked to the apartment manager and worked it out with him that the place would be rented out as a furnished apartment, so all the furniture and dishes would stay. After loading up all of the clothing into plastic bags and carrying them down to his car, he cleaned out the refrigerator and freezer, took all of the groceries from the cupboards and bagged up the trash.
He suddenly realized that he had to do the same thing in the bathroom. After cleaning out the medicine cabinet, tub area and underneath the sink, he grabbed the wastebasket to get rid of the trash in it. A brightly colored box caught his attention. It was a home pregnancy kit. He pawed through the rest of the trash looking for the test strips that it had contained. There were supposed to be three of them. He found two. They both were positive. He realized that must have been what she wanted to talk to him about that day. She must have brought the third test strip with her to show him.
Deeks was not ready for the gut-wrenching pain that went along with the realization of what that actually meant. HE was the father. She was carrying HIS unborn child when she was murdered.
His legs gave way and he sunk down to the floor, screaming just one word over and over and over again, "NO! NO! NO! Finally he ran out of breath to scream, and just lay there on the floor crying. His whole world revolved around those two positive strips of the pregnancy test, and the fact that not just Jess' life was taken from him, but also the life of the child that they would have had together was gone forever.
He never heard the police officers pound on the apartment door. He only noticed them when they came in the bathroom and found him, drowning in his tears on the floor.
"Are you all right, sir? The manager called us and said that there was a disturbance here in this apartment."
Deeks mumbled something in reply, but neither of the officers could understand him.
One of them reached down to help him up so he could sit on the edge of the tub. As he did so, he felt the weapon that Deeks had tucked in the back of his pants. The officer pulled back and drew his own weapon and pointed it at Deeks, telling him, "Sir, please raise your hands."
That seemed to bring the detective back to reality. He raised his hands and told the officer, "If you look in my right-hand pants pocket, you will find my credentials. I am Detective Marty Deeks of South Bureau, LAPD. This is the apartment of my former partner. She was murdered on our last undercover assignment."
The policeman looked at his partner, who checked Deeks' documentation. "That's what his ID says. Is there anything we can do to help you, Detective?"
"No," Deeks responded. "I just found something out about my partner that I never knew, and it's gonna take me a long time to deal with it. Thank you anyway, officers."
"Okay, we'll go back on patrol. Just call in if you need any help." Both officers turned and left the apartment.
Deeks took a towel and soaked it in cold water, wrang it out and placed it on the back of his neck. He used the ends of it to wipe his face and try to remove the tear stains there. He knew the scars of those tears would always be there for him, no matter how hard he tried to wash them away.
Deeks' Apartment, Long Beach || September 29, 2010
The Detective returned home and called Lieutenant Bates. He found out that Jess' body was still being held as evidence by the Los Angeles County Coroner. He put in a call to the office.
"Coroner's office, this is Dr. Rose Schwartz."
"Dr. Schwartz, this is Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD. I'm calling about the body of another Detective, Jess Traynor. I am wondering when the body will be released.""
"Just a moment, Detective. Let me check my records." After a minute, she came back again, "Detective, as far as I can see, most of the tests have all been done and recorded. We just have to make sure that all the pictures have been developed, and the final report is written. That can probably be done by the end of the day."
"As far as I know, she has no family here in the area. I was her partner and the closest thing she had to a friend here in Los Angeles. I would like to take her body home to Chicago and have her buried beside her family there."
"Is there any funeral home you would like for me to send the body, that they may make arrangements for transport?"
"I never even thought of that. I wonder if Hetty would know if I could tag along on a military flight and have her transported that way."
"Wait a minute, Detective. Do you mean Henrietta Lange?"
"Yeah, I sorta work for her when I'm not working full-time for the LAPD."
"I am sorta dating Dr. Nate Getz, their operational psychologist, and I've done a lot of work for Hetty. If you want, I will contact her for you and arrange everything."
"I've met Doc Getz. He's a good man. Anyway, I have her police uniform and I wonder if she could be dressed in it before the coffin is closed for the last time. And I know she doesn't look very pretty now because of the severity of her burns. But could you ask someone to make her look as good as possible. She always had a bright smile and a twinkle in her eye."
Dr. Schwartz heard the pain that was behind those words and assured the detective, "Everything that you want and need to be done will be carried out as respectfully as possible. Bring the uniform over this afternoon and I personally will take care of it."
Before he took the uniform over to the Coroner's office, Deeks slipped one of the pregnancy test strips in her left shirt pocket, so it would forever lie close to her heart.
. . . . .
The Mission, Los Angeles || September 30, 2010
When he came in the next morning, Hetty called the Detective into her office.
"Mr. Deeks, tomorrow morning at 8:27 AM, you present yourself at the freight terminal of United Airlines at LAX. You will wait there until Detective Traynor's body is loaded on the plane. You will escort the body of Detective Traynor to Chicago, where you will be met by members of the Chicago Police Department, and accompany the body to the cemetery for burial."
"What's the flight number, Hetty? I will need to buy my ticket," he said.
"Everything here and in Chicago has already been arranged. All you have to do is show up," the tiny woman said. "I know that you are the closest thing to family that she has. Please accept my condolences and that of the rest of the staff here. We are sorry for your loss."
. . . . .
LAX || November 1, 2010
The following morning, eight uniformed Los Angeles police officers stood near a wheeled cart that had a long box on it. Hetty and her three agents stood off to the side looking on. A hearse drove up and six of the officers went to the back, opened the door and pulled out the casket. These officer pall bearers transferred the casket from the hearse to the airtray on the cart. Then they saluted the officer and marched off toward the terminal.
The two remaining officers saluted the coffin, as two airport ground employees reverently put the top of the airtray on and secured it. Even from the distance, the three agents could see it was marked several places with signs that said, 'FRAGILE' and 'HUMAN REMAINS'.
Sam looked around and loudly whispered to Callen, "You would think that Deeks could have managed to be here. His partner is just about to be loaded into the plane, and where is he?"
Hetty turned toward him and gave him her gorgon stare as she said softly, "Oh he is here, Mr. Hanna. Just watch."
An airport tractor had driven up. One of the ground employees went and took a manila envelope with all the paperwork from the tractor and gave it to the older officer, then went back and sat in the tractor. The second ground employee was busy hooking the cart to the tractor, then sat down on the side of the cart to make sure its precious contents didn't slip. The tractor and cart headed off in the direction of the planes.
The two officers turned toward each other and saluted. The older one extended his hand, then used the handshake to draw the younger man into a hug. They parted and the older man handed the manila envelope to the younger, saying something that no one else could hear.
The younger man quickly walked toward Hetty and her agents. It was only when he got closer that they could recognize him. It was Deeks, but in a form that they had never seen before. He was clean shaven. His hair was closely trimmed and fit under his hat without any stray wisps hanging out. The creases on his uniform were sharp enough to shave by. But what truly surprised them, was all of the department decoration ribbons on his chest indicating the medals, awards, and decorations that he had earned. Sam looked at these and wondered if the LAPD gave them out like candy. If not, then he needed to take another look at this police detective that Hetty had saddled them with. Deeks had as many decorations, if not more, as he did from his SEAL days.
Deeks went up to Hetty and looked at her with gratitude in his eyes. "I don't know what to say, Hetty. 'Thank you' seems just so inadequate."
The little lady looked up at him and said kindly, "Don't worry about it, Mr. Deeks. We can talk about it when you get home. Right now I believe you have a plane to catch."
Deeks quickly headed off toward the terminal, leaving the rest of them to wonder if the man they saw standing there a few minutes ago was real.
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