A/N: Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews on the opening chapter. I appreciate your support!

Take away the sensation inside
Bittersweet migraine in my head
It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind
I can't take this feeling anymore

- "Give Me Novacaine," Green Day

. . .

As Ripley walked away and Deeks turned back to the shelter, the sounds of the busy Skid Row street fell away as he ran a hand through his long, unruly hair and tried to gather himself. He no longer carried a law enforcement officer's badge. He now defined himself as a dad and a lawyer, and had for a few years now. The scariest assignment he accepted most days was facing Delilah's stinky diapers.

Yet he could see the writing on the wall. While he knew the team would never force him to do anything he didn't want to do, he also suspected he'd likely be their best shot at recovering the weapons Ripley spoke about. If that were the case, he knew he would choose to return to the work he once loved even if everything inside him now urged him to stay far away. It was just the right thing to do.

His mind reeled at the possibility of embodying Max again. Hell, the prospect of going back undercover as anyone brought a tinge of fear. But above all, the desire to stay with his family pulled at his heart. With Kensi back at her NCIS forensics job full-time, he'd limited his hours working as an attorney so he could serve as the kids' primary caregiver. He couldn't imagine tearing himself away from that role to take up one from his past, particularly one that triggered all sorts of bad memories.

Deciding to focus on what he could control at the moment, he forcefully blew out his breath and walked back inside the shelter to retrieve Derrick, who'd been watching from a window and now looked him over with worried brown eyes. Deeks summoned all his rusty undercover skills and attempted to project an air of calm, telling the boy, "Hey, Buddy, I'm so sorry about that."

"Who was that man?" Derrick questioned.

Deeks wrapped an arm around his son's ever-taller shoulders and began steering him toward the back entrance, wanting to make sure they weren't followed to the car. As they walked, Deeks explained quietly, "He's a bad guy I met when I was undercover."

"He called you Gentry."

"Yeah. Max Gentry was the name of my undercover alias. I pretended to be a bad guy to catch the real bad guys."

"So did that man get away? He doesn't know you were a policeman?"

Deeks' confidence that his cover was still secure conflicted with his near desperate longing to have his gun with him. He tried to reassure Derrick, saying, "Actually he didn't get away. He got caught, only he didn't get a long prison sentence... He was arrested awhile after I was undercover with him, so there was no reason for him to think Max had anything to do with his arrest."

Derrick remained quiet as they walked straight to the parking lot, tacos long forgotten. Deeks spent most of the time checking behind him to make sure Ripley was nowhere to be seen, and trying to wrap his head around the situation. He stuffed down any thoughts about becoming Max again, and worried about the other difficult part of what he saw coming next - talking to Derrick about it and then, even scarier, Kensi.

They reached the car and Deeks breathed out a relieved sigh. His son was one step closer to safety. They pulled out of the lot and Deeks quickly hit the thankfully wide-open Santa Monica freeway and headed west toward the ocean. As the exits flew past his window and the distance between Derrick and Ripley grew, Deeks' blood pressure slowly reverted to a closer to normal level. "I'm really sorry to spoil the rest of our day," he told Derrick, "But, I need to make a stop to let my old team know what Ripley told me about. I'm gonna drop you off somewhere safe where you can watch TV or play video games while I do that, OK?"

"OK," Derrick replied before turning to gaze out the window. He had proved to be a bright and thoughtful young man and Deeks knew he had been quietly mulling over the unexpected twist to their day, and it was only a matter of time before he responded with more insightful questions.

It didn't take long before the next one landed. "What were all those tattoos about?" Derrick asked.

Sighing, Deeks weighed how much information to share. Should he be brief and vague, or should he give Derrick the detailed answer he sought? He decided his son was grown up enough to hear the facts, some of them, at least.

"They kinda tell you everything you need to know about the guy," Deeks began. "They're all white supremacist images. The Nazi swastikas connected to the crosses around his neck? Those are a symbol of a specific skinhead gang in Nevada he used to run with." He decided not to mention the elaborate number 33's on each of Ripley's hands, which were code for the Ku Klux Klan. The images they conjured were too terrible to force on his son, and Deeks just hoped he wouldn't ask about them.

He returned to alternating his focus between the drive toward Marina del Rey and the rearview mirror, checking for tails. After another few minutes, Derrick continued his questioning, except this time Deeks could hear concern, and maybe even a hint of betrayal, creeping into his voice. "Did you have to pretend to be a white supremacist?"

Deeks' heart clenched at the thought that his African American son might ever question his character or worry he couldn't trust him. "No, Derrick," he quickly replied. "I didn't. My alias Max was not a nice guy. He helped people buy and sell weapons or drugs, at least until we could collect enough evidence to send them to prison. But he was not a white supremacist... On the other hand, he didn't really care who was. He was just out to make money."

Deeks paused to allow Derrick time to absorb the information before continuing his explanation. "But Max had a very different outlook on the world than I do, you know that, right?" Deeks looked over at Derrick to try to read his expression before turning his eyes back to the road. "Max was just someone I pretended to be so I could fit in with the bad guys... You know, I arrested a lot of people in my time at LAPD and NCIS. A lot. And some of the people I was the absolute happiest to put in prison? They were people like Ripley."

Deeks glanced over again and saw Derrick nod in acknowledgement. He thought about his description of Max and knew he wasn't sharing the whole truth. After all, Max was far from a normal undercover alias. He was Deeks' alter ego, a part of him, the dark piece of his soul he'd inherited from his father. And although Deeks knew that Max – and himself by extension – wasn't racist, he also knew he shared Max's ruthlessness and cruelty, courtesy of his dad.

He carried enduring shame about that side of himself. As much as he always wanted to blame Max's actions on Max, he understood that doing so was merely a futile effort to distance himself from his own bad behavior. No matter what Max might have done, Deeks was the person who carried that darkness inside himself. He had shot his dad. He had tortured a cleric. He had killed his ex-partner under questionable circumstances.

Though he tried not to think about it - and most days spent with his children he largely succeeded - deep down he'd concluded that he didn't truly deserve to be happy. And even though he had fought for happiness all his life, he'd never expected things to really work out. Maybe this chance encounter was fate, or karma, finally catching up to him.

Derrick pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts by asking, "Wasn't it hard to be undercover with people like that?" From the worried undertone to his voice, Deeks wondered if the kid might actually think he enjoyed the company of sadistic, hate-filled criminals.

"God, Derrick, yes, it was really hard," he told him. "I hated every minute I ever spent with people like Ripley and his friends. But at the end of the day, I got so much satisfaction from tricking them - and then getting to arrest them - that it was worth it. People like them should be in jail, you know? And I was really good at getting them to believe I was who I pretended to be. Not just anybody can do that, that kind of work, and it was… rewarding to be able to rise to the challenge of it. I felt like it was the best thing I could do to protect people."

As he exited the freeway and headed south toward the marina, Deeks pictured what it would be like to do it all over again. He had trouble imagining himself back in his old role, pretending to be a bad guy and maintaining his alias long enough to take down the real bad guys.

They completed the rest of the drive in silence. Once they arrived at the boatshed, Deeks ushered Derrick inside, hooked him up with the television and a snack from the fridge, and excused himself to go back outside to call a number he thought he would never use again. As he dialed, the vigorous sea breeze encouraged him to take a series of deep, calming breaths, but he wasn't sure it had much effect on his overall frame of mind.

Nell had been spending her morning in the cool, dark confines of Ops updating some cold case files with newly compiled data when she heard the phone ring. She instantly recognized the number so wasn't surprised to hear Deeks greet her with a familiar but subdued version of, "Nellosaurus."

"Hey Shaggy, what's happening?" she replied lightly. It took a moment for her brain to recognize that Deeks had used the Ops line, but once she did, the concern in her voice came through loud and clear. "Are you OK? Are the kids OK? What happened?"

"Everything's fine," he told her. "I was just downtown with Derrick and we ran into someone who knew my alias Max Gentry."

"Uh oh," she replied, immediately ready to send reinforcements wherever Deeks needed them.

"Yeah, uh oh. Do you have time to do a couple things for me?"

"Sure, Deeks," she assured him. "There aren't any active cases at the moment, so just tell me what you need."

Falling into an old pattern with Deeks reminded Nell of their long history working together. He'd long hinted at how much he'd wanted to be a father, so when Derrick came to live with him and Kensi and he'd retired from the LAPD and NCIS, Nell had been thrilled for them all. Deeks had left his law enforcement career without hesitation, and other than worrying for Kensi's safety during the time she'd remained with the team, he hadn't seemed to miss any of it once he stepped away. Kensi had told her he'd wanted to leave for a long time before Derrick finally gave him an important enough reason to leave her behind with a new partner.

Seeing him with his kids, so relaxed and downright joyful, always brought a smile to her face. Nell knew from talking with Kensi that this new chapter of his life had brought him a sense of fulfillment he'd never had. Yet selfishly, she'd missed his presence at work. She'd missed the heart he displayed with the victims they encountered and the dedication and bravery he exhibited on every case they worked. But most of all, it was the lightheartedness he could bring to dark and scary situations that differentiated him from the rest of the team. Sure, they still bantered like champions, but they'd never come close to replacing his unique wit and charm.

Now as she waited to hear how she could help her friend, she worried that something bad had wormed its way into the happy family life Deeks had carved out for himself. He asked her, "First, can you send someone to the boatshed to watch Derrick, and maybe bring him some lunch? I brought him here because I was paranoid about keeping him safe, and wanted to get him away from anyone dangerous as quickly as I could. His mom can pick him up later."

"Done," Nell said, immediately starting to text an agent she knew was available for the task. "Where will you be?" she asked.

"I'm coming to you. Can you also pull up what you can on a Dwight Ripley? He did time a few years ago in San Quentin for drug possession, and before that he was part of a neo-Nazi group out of Nevada called the "Blut und Ehre Movement."

"Blood and honor?" she translated from the German.

"Yeah, it's a charming slogan from the Hitler Youth," he explained.

"Lovely," she responded, horrified that Derrick had been anywhere close to such a man.

"Ripley's only a small piece of the puzzle," Deeks continued. "The more important element is the white supremacist group called the Brothers of the Rope. They're operating out of the South Bay and they're run by a guy named Benjamin Jason Johnson, or Benny JJ for short. They may be in possession of stolen weapons from Pendleton. I can tell you more when I get there."

"Hmm," Nell said in response to the information, wondering if Deeks had stumbled onto something huge. "OK, I'll get on it right now."

"Thanks Nell, I really appreciate it."

"No worries. I think it's us who should be thanking you," she told him. She hesitated a moment before continuing. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this since you're not LAPD anymore, but there was a major theft of military weapons about six weeks ago. They weren't taken from Pendleton itself, but a transport truck going from there up to Twentynine Palms was hijacked. We're talking some serious firepower. And Deeks, three Marines were killed."

"Wow, OK, got it. See you soon."

Nell's mind raced as she started assembling the pieces of the puzzle Deeks had given her. The picture she already saw in her mind's eye made her wonder if he might soon be forced out of retirement and into a dangerous assignment, and the thought saddened her.

Deeks hung up the phone and blew out a long breath. The brief description of the Brothers had been enough to evoke some of the ugliest memories of his LAPD undercover career. Pushing the negative thoughts down, once more he tried to limit his focus to the next thing on his To Do list. He took a few minutes to ground himself, breathing deeply and looking up into the cloudless sky as several pairs of cawing gulls flew past. Finally, he headed back inside.

He debated what, if anything, to tell Derrick to prepare him for the possibility that he might have to go back undercover. He didn't want to abandon him there at the boatshed and then fail to return to collect him for dinner. He owed it to his son to tell him more.

Derrick was perusing a small bookshelf when he got back inside. Deeks muted the TV and sat him down on the sturdy but lumpy sofa, running his suddenly sweaty palms over his pant legs. "So, I have to go over to Kensi's office to talk to the old team about what Ripley told me. No one's supposed to be here alone, so someone from NCIS is going to come over and hang out with you until Kensi or I come back to pick you up. Is that OK?"

"Sure," Derrick answered with suspicion in his eyes.

Deeks knew the boy had picked up on his nervousness and he berated himself to keep it together so he wouldn't scare his son. "There's one more thing," Deeks added. Derrick eyed him expectantly. "There's a chance I may have to go back to work for a few days."

Derrick cocked his head to the side and asked, "With Kensi?"

"Well, sort of," Deeks hedged. "I may just be gone for a few hours, but there's a chance I might have to go back undercover to catch a few more bad guys."

"Why?" Derrick asked, his voice rising sharply. "Why do you have to do that? Can't someone else go?"

"Maybe," Deeks said. "I won't know until I talk to the team. But it may be that since I already know the bad guys – since my undercover alias Max does – it might make the most sense for me to do it."

"But you're retired from the LAPD," Derrick pressed. "You shouldn't have to do anything dangerous like that. You're just a lawyer now."

The word "just" hit Deeks harder than Derrick intended it. He knew his son didn't mean to minimize his current work, and he knew the boy respected what he did and how he still helped people every day. He also knew Derrick was afraid. Quietly but firmly, he told him, "You're right, Derrick. I don't have to do anything dangerous like that anymore. But if I can help the team stop the bad guys from hurting people, then I will. It's not that I want to do it – I really don't - but it's just that, well, it's the right thing to do."

"You want us to be proud of you," Derrick said softly.

Surprised by the boy's sentiment, Deeks replied, "I hope you're always proud of me, Derrick. But I also want to feel proud of myself. And if I don't help out, I won't feel that way." After a moment's reflection, he added, "I've always worked to protect people and to stand up for people who can't protect themselves. That's what I've done as a lawyer, and that's what I did as a cop. It's what Kensi, and Uncle Sam and Callen, and Nell and Eric, do every day... And it's what your mom did."

They sat quietly together, the only sounds the refrigerator's hum and an occasional seagull passing by outside. As Deeks considered what else he could say to make the situation less difficult and frightening for Derrick, the boy asked in a near whisper, "What if something happens to you?"

Deeks' heart sunk hearing his son's worries. "Hey, look, Buddy. If," he said, emphasizing the word. "If, I have to go undercover, I'll have the best team in the entire country looking out for me, watching my back. They have all sorts of secret James Bond-type gadgets to help keep an eye on me and they'll do everything possible to make sure I stay safe. Plus, you know, I was good enough at my job that Aunt Hetty recruited me to work as a federal agent. I may be rusty, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve." Deeks wasn't sure if he believed that, but hoped Derrick took him at his word.

The boy didn't look particularly reassured, and asked sadly, "Will Kensi go too?"

"No. No… Kensi may help from the office, or maybe even watch my back from a distance in the field, but she won't go undercover with me," Deeks promised, secretly hoping for several reasons that he'd be right. "She'll be there for you even if I'm gone for a few days." He left unsaid that he could be gone for longer, or god forbid, permanently. "It'll be just like it was for the two of us when Kensi sometimes had those longer assignments before Delilah was born," he added, referring to the time after he'd retired when Kensi still worked as a field agent.

"OK," Derrick finally said.

A few minutes later when the NCIS agent appeared and Deeks got up to leave, Derrick stood up with him. Deeks told him, "You have fun playing video games on the big screen there. If I can't come back to get you, Kensi will, OK?" Deeks wanted to sweep Derrick into his arms and hold him tight, but he continued to try to play it cool to minimize the possible stakes.

Derrick took the step for him though, wrapping his arms around Deeks' waist and telling him, "Be safe."

Deeks started to assure him that he would but stopped short, not wanting to make more promises he might not be able to keep. "I love you so so much" he said instead, blinking back tears and returning Derrick's hug, forcing himself to let go after a short time, lest he decide not to leave at all.

"I love you too, Marty."

Deeks forced a smile and tried to project a confidence he didn't feel as he trudged out of the boatshed and got into his car. As he drove away from his son and toward an uncertain future, his thoughts shifted to Derrick's earlier question about how hard it was to go undercover. He told himself he was really good at it, really good at lying, at telling the truth reimagined for the greater good. He used to be really good at it anyway. But was he still? Had two and a half years away made him soft? Was lying to hardened criminals like riding a bike? And what would it feel like to let Max loose again after all this time?

He contemplated these questions as his thoughts turned to the tacos he should have been enjoying with his son, and he felt trapped by his own words... Stopping the bad guys was the right thing to do, even if he no longer wanted to do it.