"It is good to see you back on your feet, Mr. Deeks!"
The fact that he currently resembled less a man and more of a desert lizard, basking in the sun, was because that was exactly what he was doing. It had been over a week since Deeks had been allowed outside to breath some fresh air. The warmth of the sun felt like a long overdue lover's touch against his skin.
The detective opened his eyes, squinting against the sun-glare until he could glimpse Hetty's face, standing right in front of him. Damn the woman, she could move silently!
"I wouldn't exactly call this one my feet," he pointed out, giving the wheelchair an aggravated nudge. "But nurse Brenda insisted and you know me, could never say no to a beautiful woman," he added with a half-hearted smirk.
"Nurse Brenda," Hetty pondered for a second. "Is that the rather large lady, the one who used to play football in college?"
Deeks looked around, pretending to make sure they were alone. "Yes," he whispered. "She scares the bejesus out of me!"
Hetty smiled. "I'm sure she has only your best interest in mind," she pointed out.
The detective nodded, forced to concede the point even if it pained him to admit the truth: had it not been for the wheelchair, he wouldn't have made it all the way to the hospital's yard. Honestly, he had been exhausted just from getting up and putting on some sweatpants, not to mention the absolutely lovely and disgustingly nostalgic moment when his mother had to help him get his sneakers on, like he was two years old again and couldn't do it himself. Which he couldn't, but that was beside the point.
"And speaking of your best interests," Hetty went on, looking around. "Where are Ms. Kensi and Mrs. Deeks?"
"It's Miss and she prefers Roberta," he offered with a smile and a wink, knowing the older woman would easily recognize her own words. "Mom was starting to go stir crazy inside that room, so I kind of begged Kensi to take her home and get some rest."
Hetty nodded approvingly, taking a seat besides Deeks' parked chair. "I imagine it cannot be easy for a mother to see her son lying in a hospital bed."
Deeks nodded, playing with the edge of his robe. "She had more than enough practice, before Gordon left the house," he let out with a sad smile. "I think it's the memories it drags back that's giving her a hard time."
Hetty nodded again, her gaze lost in the distance. Deeks doubted that she was looking at the dry fountain that decorated the center of the yard. He wondered if she could actually imagine what it had been like then.
For most days, the bruises had been easily enough to hide beneath his clothes, finger marks and knuckle punches that his teachers wouldn't be able to see unless he took off his shirt.
On occasion, it was bad enough that his mother had no other choice but to take him to the hospital, excusing the broken bones on a hyperactive kid with too much time on his hands.
And then, there had been that one time when his bruises had actually made it to the local news. Granted, his mother had been a little over creative with the whole snake story, but at the time saying that a python had tried to kill her son had seemed like a better choice than to actually tell the truth.
Sometimes, Deeks wondered what his life would have been like if his mother wasn't so imaginative at hiding the abuse they suffered at home.
"She regrets not having acted sooner," Hetty pointed out, almost as if she knew where his thoughts had drifted to. "Do you share her opinion?"
Deeks blinked, the question catching him off guard. Whenever the topic of his childhood came around, most people wanted to know about his feelings towards his father and the repercussions of the man's actions on Deeks' life, and by most people, he meant the court ordered psychiatrist and the school's councilor.
Neither had ever question Deeks' thoughts on his mother's actions. In fact, the idea of questioning his mother's choices at the time, had never even crossed the detective's mind. She had been a victim, same as he, nothing more.
"She did the best that she could, under the circumstances," Marty replied all too quickly. The answer sounded flat and institutionalized even to his ears. "How do you usually go about your regrets, Hetty?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from painful memories.
The older woman pursed her lips, turning around to face him. "Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, 'it might have been'," she replied with a knowing smile before returning her gaze to the dry fountain.
Deeks pondered her words for a second, smiling when he recognized the quote. "Vonnegut?"
Hetty's smile opened into a toothy one. "Very well, Mr. Deeks! Always had you pegged for a fellow fan," she cheered.
"Doesn't really answer my question, does it?" he pointed out. Everyone had more than one instant in their past where they wondered what might have been had their choices been different, going from simple things like choosing strawberry over chocolate for they sundae ice-cream, to picking a career. It was an intrinsic part of basic human behavior to wonder about options and possibilities; it was something else entirely to mourn or feel guilty about making a choice.
"Neither did you," she threw back without missing a beat.
Deeks rubbed his head, a nervous tell that he was well aware of but couldn't seem to avoid. "My mom got pregnant really young, barely eighteen," he said, more to himself than in answer to Hetty. The fact that she was looking away from him gave him a odd sense of privacy. "She told me she had been afraid of facing such a huge responsibility alone," he added, closing his eyes. "She never actually said it in so many words, but I could tell that, at the time, her choice had been between marrying Gordon or not have me at all."
"She chose wisely," Hetty pointed out after a moment of silence. "The world would have suffered a substantial loss had she picked differently."
Marty huffed a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, right," he let out in self depreciation. "Me and Gandhi, two peas in a pod."
Hetty chuckled at the comparison, probably imagining Deeks, surfing in a loincloth. Or maybe that was just his twisted mind. "Perhaps Gandhi isn't the most suitable example, given the violent nature of your line of work, Mr. Deeks," she pointed out. "But I would agree that both have worked to make the world a better place, wouldn't you say?"
Deeks gave her a sideways glance. "Is this a pep talk? Did you seriously came here to give me a pep talk? Because after what happened, I was expecting more of a detailed course on 'how to dodge bullets', or perhaps 'top picks for cover during a shootout' or-"
Hetty's gaze and her hand on his arm stopped the detective on his long list of things he could have done differently. There was no point in denying that the shooting and the events that led to it had been weighing heavily on his mind. Particularly, where he had screwed up.
Since he had been coherent enough to remember what had happened, Deeks had been silently obsessing over what he could have done differently, how he had failed and what he could do to be better next time. Sam hadn't mentioned anything yet, but the detective was sure that the former SEAL already a couple of lectures ready to give him once he was back on his feet.
"Martin Alexander Deeks," Hetty voiced very carefully, each word a speech in itself.
Despite his best efforts, the use of his full name never failed to make Deeks stand at attention, or as close as he could get with healing ribs and sitting on a wheelchair. Only his mom and the drill Sergeant at the academy used to call him that, and when either of them did, Deeks knew better than to ignore the call. "Yes, momma?" he asked sarcastically, hoping to cover his initial reaction. It would be extremely dangerous for Henrietta tiny-ninja Lange to realize the power of calling his full name. Very dangerous indeed.
"Don't be cheeky," she scolded gently. "I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say," she warned, waiting for Deeks full attention. "Do you remember the papers I gave you a few months after you joined us at OSP as a liaison?"
Deeks nodded. The file with both his resignation from LAPD form and application to NCIS were still carefully hidden at the bottom of his desk drawer, waiting for a time when it would feel right to sign them both.
"Do you know why I gave them to you?"
Deeks nodded, slower this time, as he wasn't exactly sure what kind of answer the older woman was looking for. "Because you were going on a suicide mission to help Callen and wanted to leave your affairs in order?"
"That is one way to see it," she nodded. "But mostly, because I could not allow for my personal choices at the time to stand in the way of NCIS gaining a most valuable agent."
"Hetty..."
"No... let me finish," the short, yet imposing woman, asked. "The report on the shooting that Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna delivered to me spoke of irreproachable decision-making in the middle of extreme danger and precision shooting in the most adverse of circumstances, to a level of expertise that I both value and expect of all my top agents," she pointed out vehemently. "The fact that you were injured in the line of duty was unfortunate, Mr. Deeks, but, under the circumstances, unavoidable."
Deeks could feel his cheeks reddening despite his best efforts. Grown-assed men did not blush in the face of a compliment. Except that he, apparently, did. "Thank you, Hetty," he offered sincerely, lost at words.
Truth was, the detective had become accustomed to being criticized for his work, no matter how hard he tried or how well he did.
Of course, his work choices had never been exactly conducive to high praise. No one liked public defenders, sometimes not even the people they defended; and the only thing that cops hated more than lawyers were lawyers who had decided to reach across and join the Police force. And last, but certainly not least, snitching on a fellow officer... that had earned him extra-cookie points as well! So, lawyer, cop-lawyer and telltale, the trifecta of making friends in the force.
Having his good work acknowledged by someone he held in such a high regard was... unfamiliar.
"Nonsense," Hetty huffed, getting to her feet. "Just stating the facts and clearing some misconceptions. Speaking of which," she went on, pursing her lips. "You should know that Mr. Hanna asked me for your file this morning."
Deeks frowned. "Why?"
Hetty shrugged. "He gave me no concrete reason, just said he was curious about something," she pointed out. "I gave him the... redacted version," she assured. "Didn't think the full version was mine to give."
The detective nodded, absent minded. He knew that, as a team leader, Callen had access to his LAPD file and he imagined that, had Sam shown any interest in the matter, his partner would gladly share that information. The fact that Sam had gone directly to Hetty meant that he was looking for something that wouldn't be in Deeks professional file.
Something Deeks wasn't sure he was ready to share with the rest of his team.