We're the ones going home
We're coming home again
I started fuckin' running
Just as soon as my feet touched ground
We're back in the barrio
But to you and me, that's Jingletown
Home
We're coming home again

- "We're Coming Home Again," Part V of "Homecoming," Green Day

. . .

As Kensi finally drove her husband and son home, a sense of relief flowed through her. Deeks had been so adamant about feeling unable to face his own son, so haunted by nightmares that battered his conscience, that she'd worried over how their reunion would go. At the hospital, she was sure her heart had grown several sizes watching Deeks' face as he'd taken in his son's presence and actually appeared to find comfort in it. The love that had shone out of his beautiful blue eyes gave her tremendous hope that between the four of them - counting Delilah and Monty - they'd be able to mend Deeks' emotional wounds while time healed his physical ones.

She also took great pride watching her son with his adopted father. Derrick had borne the stress of Deeks being away, and her lengthy absences as well, with maturity and grace. Sadly though, she attributed Derrick's composure in part to his own past traumatic experiences, and worried that he should have been expressing more emotion the whole time. She regretted that she'd only had enough time and emotional energy herself to offer what had felt like transparently insincere reassurances.

The assignment had been traumatic for all of them, and Kensi vowed to make sure Derrick got plenty of opportunity to express any pent up confusion, sadness or anger over what had happened, and that she would spend lots of time with him – and Delilah - to make up for having left them alone so much in the last seven weeks.

She'd spent nearly all of the past two weeks in the hospital with Deeks, only taking a couple nights off once he was able to speak for himself. It was exhausting, running home for quick breaks to check on the kids and try to provide them at least a token amount of love and comfort, only to turn around and leave them in the care of one of the moms so she could give Deeks the support he needed. She hadn't wanted to be anywhere else than by his side, but the guilt of her inadequate parenting weighed on her.

Having taken a leave of absence from work, she relished in having time now to try to be everything to everyone. It would be more tiring than any op, but it was where she belonged, with the family she and Deeks had built, and she resolved to make them all healthy and happy once again.

. . .

For Deeks, the trip home had proved exhausting but encouraging. He'd chatted briefly in the car with Derrick before falling asleep, thankfully not long enough to dream. When they got home, he was pleasantly surprised by the new ramp that had been prepared for his wheelchair at the garage door entrance.

His mother greeted him, holding little Delilah in her arms. At first, the girl seemed shy, wary even, no doubt disturbed by the combination of Deeks' long absence, his appearance, and the somber and hesitant expression on his face, but she warmed up quickly enough with Roberta's encouragement. Once he'd been comfortably ensconced in the living room with them all, Roberta had tried to hand Delilah over to Deeks but he'd been reluctant to hold his daughter, as squirmy as she was. He feared she'd jostle his ribs more than he could handle and he worried he might hurt her. But he did kiss her and after a few moments spent gathering himself together while an excited Monty provided a happy distraction, he started babbling soft but happy words to her, telling her how much he missed his Little D, as he called her.

After a short while, he found himself tiring and Kensi asked Roberta and Derrick to take Delilah up to her room for a nap. He hadn't closed his own eyes for more than a few seconds before he opened them to see Kensi standing before him with a pain pill and a glass of water in hand. He took them, one at a time with his good hand, and thanked her. She set the glass down and knelt in front of him, reaching out and lightly taking his left hand in hers, telling him, "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too," he whispered back. Before he could say more, Kensi had pulled his ring out of her pocket and slid it home where it belonged. She pulled his hand up to her lips and kissed the back of his fingers, and though her eyes were glazed with tears, her wide smile drew a smaller matching one from him in return and with his good hand, he pulled her head up to his and kissed her sweetly.

A few days later, Derrick stood looking out the kitchen window into the backyard. The man he had come to view as his father dozed quietly in the sun in his wheelchair with Monty resting patiently at his feet. Derrick took in Marty's leg in its cast, raised in front of the chair to keep it horizontal. He thought about the small scars and fading bruising on his neck. He hadn't wanted to stare, but couldn't help but study them whenever he came upon Marty sleeping.

It scared him to think about how close Marty had come to dying. Since his mom's death three years before, he'd made a new life with Kensi and Marty. He felt safe with them, and happy. He fretted over how close it had all come to being torn away from him once again. And even though Marty would physically heal, he worried that the man who'd always offered him so much love and reassurance, and had encouraged him to embrace the sillier side of life, might have been permanently changed by his experience.

He thought back to when he had first come to live with them and to how much love he'd immediately received from both his adoptive parents. He remembered how they'd encouraged him to talk about his own traumatic experiences, and decided he needed to step up and support Marty in the same way now.

Kensi had taken Delilah over to her mom's for the afternoon, so Derrick threw together a quick lunch and took it out to the patio table where Marty sat. As he moved closer, he heard a whimpering sound and realized it wasn't coming from Monty but from Marty, who appeared caught in a nightmare. He watched Marty's face slowly contort into a grimace and hesitated over whether to wake him. He didn't have to decide though, for when he set the plates down on the nearby table, the noise roused him. Marty looked momentarily troubled and confused before peering up at Derrick and wiping his hand over his face.

Derrick asked, "Are you OK, Marty?"

"Sure," he rasped out, glancing at the table. "Thanks for making lunch." They ate in silence, with Marty offering an occasional compliment for Derrick's culinary prowess, a pursuit he enjoyed. As they finished up, Derrick took the plates inside. He was tempted to leave Marty to his rest, but decided to try encouraging him to talk more about his experiences. He refilled their drinks and returned to the patio, hoping he might be of some help to this man he loved so much, but fearing he could make things worse.

. . .

When Derrick had returned and sat down beside him once again, Deeks inwardly sighed, wishing to be left alone with his morose thoughts. As relieved as he'd been initially to feel comfortable with his son rather than overwhelmed as he'd feared, he knew Derrick's intuition and inquisitiveness made it only a matter of time before his questions would start. He didn't think he could handle them and feared he would lash out in anger at the boy.

It didn't take long for Derrick to start talking. "I was thinking," he said, "About when I first came to live with you."

"Yeah?" Deeks asked, wondering where Derrick was steering the conversation and knowing somehow it would lead back to his own emotional state.

"Yeah. I was remembering how sad I was, and how scared I was to leave the house because I didn't feel safe... You always encouraged me to talk about what I was feeling."

Deeks sighed, now understanding where the kid was heading and not liking it one bit. "You're right, I did," he replied, not wanting to volunteer more until Derrick forced him to.

"It helped," Derrick told him earnestly.

Deeks looked at Derrick and then out into the yard. He thought back to all that Derrick had suffered in his young life, and to how traumatized he'd been first by his kidnapping, then his rescue and his father's death, and finally, watching his mother killed in front of him. The magnitude of all that hit Deeks and he realized he had no right to feel sorry for himself while this brave boy sat in front of him having faced his own demons.

Eventually he told him honestly, "I'm glad it did, Derrick. More glad than you'll ever know… And I know I need to talk about what happened to me too. It's just… it's really complicated and I'm not sure where to even begin."

Derrick nodded in understanding, but he pressed ahead, saying, "Can I ask you questions about it? You don't have to answer them if you don't want to."

Deeks found himself hoping for a phone call or impromptu visitor to interrupt this conversation. How could he possibly explain any part of his experience to his now sixteen-year-old son? Granted, the boy was incredibly perceptive, wise beyond his years, but Deeks knew that was largely due to all that he had experienced. Derrick already knew how awful people could be, and he didn't want to further darken his outlook on the world. Yet, how could he shut down his son's earnest efforts to help?

"OK, yeah," he rasped out. "I want to answer your questions, and I want to help you understand what happened. But, you'll have to let me stop if I need to, OK?"

"Sure," Derrick replied evenly.

"OK," Deeks said, blowing out a calming breath, hoping that he'd be able to handle whatever Derrick threw at him without breaking down in tears or exploding in anger. He didn't want his son to worry about him, or see him as weak. He wanted his respect, and he was pretty sure talking about the op would not help him achieve any of those things. Yet he reluctantly forged ahead, not wanting Derrick to feel rejected. "What would you like to know?"

Without skipping a beat, Derrick asked, "What are your nightmares about?"

The question hit Deeks hard, seeing as it kind of covered the entire operation. He had no idea how to respond. He'd been tormented by changing nightmares for the past seven weeks. He took as deep a breath as his sore ribs would allow and replied, "That's a tough question. They're almost all different... But when I try to analyze them, I see that most of them are about somebody hurting me," he said, gesturing to his casts. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Or… they're about me hurting somebody else." Deeks guiltily turned away from his son's gaze and instantly wished he could take back his admission, or at least stand up and run away.

"Why would you dream about hurting people?"

In two quick questions, the kid had managed to cut right to Deeks' biggest issue. He closed his eyes as visions of Isaac swam in front of him, trying to halt a panic attack he knew would frighten Derrick. He concentrated on his breathing, and reached his hand out for the boy. Derrick pulled his chair closer and took the offered hand in his, saying, "I'm sorry, Marty. We don't have to talk about this. It's OK."

Deeks opened his eyes and focused on the warm brown ones of his son, watching him with so much concern and love. He wanted to be there for him. Derrick shouldn't have to be the one supplying him with strength and support. He resolved to push on with the conversation.

"I'm OK… I'm OK," he said as much to himself as to Derrick. He released the boy's hand and took a sip of cool water, giving himself time to figure out how to describe it all. Finally he told him, "Remember the day I left, when we talked about working undercover?" Derrick nodded and Deeks continued. "I think I told you that I hated being with the bad guys, but I got a lot of satisfaction in getting to arrest them, right? Well, one of the reasons I hated being with them is that sometimes I've had to do some bad things, things I'm not proud of, to fit in."

"Kind of like peer pressure?" Derrick asked.

"Yeah, kind of. The bad guys are doing bad things, right? And sometimes if you want to prove that you're a bad guy too so you can get them to trust you, you have to do bad stuff. And on this assignment… I had to hurt someone," Deeks said, his already soft voice fading even more at his disclosure, "And I'm ashamed that I did it, really ashamed." Deeks surprised himself with the amount of detail he'd just shared, and now could do nothing but wait, his heart pounding, for the judgment he deserved. He didn't think he could bear his own son thinking less of him. He was sure it would crush him.

Derrick's expression remained unchanged as he continued to sit calmly beside Deeks. He asked, "Is he OK? The man you hurt?"

Deeks told him, "Physically he is, although he's probably dealing with some emotional repercussions because of it." Deeks knew he was underselling the trauma Isaac had experienced. He knew it from his own experience with Sidorov. But he wouldn't share any more horrific details, trying to save his son from a little of the darkness.

Derrick asked, "Was he a bad guy?"

Deeks cringed as another wave of shame washed over him. "No. At the time I didn't know who he was. I found out later he was an undercover police officer."

Derrick sat for a moment, taking in the information. "Did you have a choice?" he asked. "Could you have gotten out of it and still stopped all those bad men from hurting all those people?

Deeks knew the answer to the question, yet he searched his mind once more for what he or the team might have done differently to avoid torturing Isaac. He wanted to be honest with his son so he took his time to think over the possibilities.

"No," he replied. "I keep thinking about what I could have done differently, or what the team might have done to help me, but I don't think any of us could have changed what happened."

Again Derrick pondered before replying, "Well, then I don't think you should feel responsible." Deeks was struck by the clarity of his son's thought process, and its logic. Could it be that simple?

Before he could consider Derrick's opinion further, the boy asked another pointed question. "Have you apologized to the man?"

The idea of facing Isaac made Deeks' pulse race and his stomach twist. He thought he might lose his lunch and again focused on controlling his breathing. He sipped some more water and admitted, "No, not really."

"Maybe it would make you feel better."

Deeks couldn't imagine going through with a face to face encounter with the man he'd traumatized, and he didn't think allowing Isaac an opportunity to express his anger would do much to alleviate his own feelings of guilt. But it did occur to him that he owed the man more than the frantic apology he'd whispered in his ear on that dark mountainside. He sighed and said, "Maybe you're right, Derrick... How'd you get to be so wise?"

"It just comes naturally," Derrick said, smiling. But again he turned serious, telling Deeks, "Kensi said what you did put all the bad guys in jail. A lot of bad guys, all over the country. She said you were a hero and you saved a lot of innocent people… I wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you, and really that I was already proud of you before this, but anyway of course you stopping bad men from hurting people makes me proud all over again."

Deeks smiled at his son's rambling, and told him, "Thanks, Derrick. That means a lot to me." His mind understood that his son was right and that he'd behaved in the only way possible to survive and bring down the Brothers. He just hoped his heart would catch up a little. Knowing Derrick didn't judge him had removed a heavy weight from his shoulders, and gratitude and love for his sensitive, thoughtful son brought tears to his eyes.

They sat silently together awhile longer. Deeks thought maybe Derrick was finished with his questions, but instead he went into full therapist mode, asking, "Why do you think your subconscious – your dreams - are still focused so much on you hurting this man?"

"Because I keep blaming myself," Deeks explained. Then, knowing that he and Derrick both shared complicated relationships with their fathers, he told him, "Because growing up, my dad always blamed me for everything that went wrong, and I got really good at it."

"I'm sorry you had such a lousy dad," Derrick said.

"Me too," said Deeks.

He was back in the desert, standing in the middle of the vast, dry lake bed. He watched as the clown cars approached. He knew each vehicle held men from the Aryan Nation. The cars stopped and once again a seemingly unending number of white supremacists started pouring out, and he was afraid. He felt the presence of people behind him, his team. He looked back and saw Kensi, Sam, Callen, Ehsan, Nicole, Eric, and Nell. He knew they would fight for him and he felt their support. As the shooting started, he dove for cover behind a boulder. He peered off to his right at a small outcropping of rocks and noticed Hetty and Jameson sitting together. He called for them to help. Though the team was badly outnumbered, they remained still.

During a break in the shooting, he ran over to them. As he got closer, he saw that Jameson was flipping a coin repeatedly. When it landed heads, he said to Deeks, "Brother." When it landed tails, he said, "Traitor." Hetty was playing with what looked like a bunch of dolls. He peered more closely and saw that she held a set of marionettes and was making them all dance. As he studied them even more closely, he realized there was one for each team member, including himself, and a small ripple of fear washed through him.

He woke at daybreak to find Kensi wrapped around his torso. The weight of her arms placed uncomfortable pressure on his ribs, so he gently pushed her off, rousing her from sleep.

"You OK?" she mumbled.

"Yeah," he replied softly, fighting back a groan and wrapping his own arms protectively around his midsection.

"Were you dreaming?" she asked, still not opening her eyes.

"Yup," he said.

With that news, she did slowly open her eyes, assessing him with a concerned expression. "Can you tell me about it?" she asked, pushing her tousled hair out of her face.

He'd Skyped with Nate a few times during the past week since he'd been home, and as he'd expected, Nate had encouraged him to talk about his feelings and experiences, with him and with Kensi and the team. He hated that advice, but he remembered the last time he'd shut himself away from everyone who cared about him, and he understood that moving forward with his loved ones was the only real option.

He sighed and told her, "It was about the team, and Hetty, and Jameson." He related the dream's details.

Kensi sat up and turned toward him, saying, "So you were happy with the team- we had your back. But Hetty not so much. And with Jameson, it was a matter of chance which way he landed."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," he replied. He hadn't found the dream particularly disturbing, especially compared to many others he'd had recently. Sure, the Hetty part was creepy, but he was heartened that his real team had backed him up rather than the Brothers of the Rope who'd appeared with him in a previous version of the same dream. Progress, he thought.

He'd decided that his own instinct to protect people had been the real reason he'd taken a bullet for Jameson, but he'd never been able to make sense of Jameson's last-second decision to save his life. He'd discussed it with Kensi, theorizing that perhaps Jameson knew he was caught and thought the action would buy him goodwill with the judge. Or maybe he had made a real bond with the man that in the end, finally shined through. They had worked together almost like partners, after all. Deeks wanted to believe that Jameson too had reacted on instinct, that maybe he wasn't a cold-blooded killer, and that the hate-filled environments he'd lived in all his life hadn't penetrated all the way through his soul. He didn't think he'd ever know. Kensi had suggested he visit Jameson in jail to get answers and maybe some closure, but he had decided he wasn't that interested in hearing what a murderous racist thought about him.

As he'd considered the Jameson part of the dream, he realized Kensi had also been thinking, but now she appeared hesitant to say what was on her mind. He wanted them to communicate well, knowing it was important to getting better, so he encouraged her, saying, "Kensi it's OK. Just tell me what you're thinking." He pushed the pillows down behind him so he could sit a little more upright, wanting to give her his full focus. The motion aggravated his ribs and his wince brought Kensi to his aid, shushing him and helping him find a more comfortable position.

After the pain had subsided, Deeks looked calmly into her sad face, raising his eyebrows to prompt her to share. After a moment's hesitation, she told him softly, her eyes downcast, "I was thinking back to the night you had to hurt Isaac… When I got to your apartment, you were angry, at all of us. I didn't blame you. In fact, it killed me not to be able to come up with a way to get you out of that situation. I was so angry at Hetty, but I was angry with myself too."

He knew Kensi felt guilty, and that he had been angry at her and everyone else for what he'd been forced to do. But he no longer held that anger, toward the team or her, having realized they had done all they could under very difficult circumstances.

He reached out to lift her chin up so she would meet his gaze and tried to reassure her, saying, "I was angry, at everybody. At the whole world for putting me in that position. Apparently I still am angry at Hetty. But I couldn't think of a single thing that would have worked to stop it from happening without ruining the operation. It's… unsettling… to think about though, because anything could have happened inside that trailer. Dexter might have killed Isaac at any point, and I don't know what would have happened if he had."

Kensi nodded, but he thought she likely still felt guilty. She told him, "Focus on the fact that he didn't die. He didn't die because you saved him with your quick thinking and your bravery."

He took in her words, and thought he might eventually believe them. He replied, "I'm trying to do that, I really am."

"I'm sorry I wasn't a better partner that night. And on the whole op," she told him.

He shook his head, dismissing her apology. She hadn't done anything wrong. "You don't have to be. I don't blame you, for any of it." She reached out to hold his good hand in hers and they sat for a while.

Finally, Kensi took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes, asking hesitantly, "Can I tell you something else I should have told you a long time ago?"

He had no idea what she would say, and was pretty sure he wouldn't want to hear it, but replied in his soft, gravelly voice, "You can tell me anything, Kens."

. . .

Kensi shook her head at Deeks' use of her nickname, knowing she didn't deserve it, didn't deserve his easy forgiveness. She told him, "I'm your partner. In all things. And I should have your back no matter what." She hesitated to continue, knowing Deeks might shut down her whole line of discussion, but she thought it was worth a try to finally share with him the thing she was most ashamed of, the action she still judged herself most harshly for. She said in a shaky voice, "I didn't do a great job on this op, but there's another op where I did even worse... When we found you in Sidorov's garage-"

"Kens-"

He tried to stop her, but she had started down this path and she needed to get it all out. "Please let me say this, Deeks," she pleaded quietly.

He looked at her in concern, nodding slightly for her to continue. She plunged ahead, telling him, "I never should have left you there. Again, I couldn't think of an alternative. But you were in so much pain, and you were begging me to untie you, and I, I turned my back on you." Kensi's whole body shook as the vivid memories of Deeks' pained expression and pleading voice, unlike any she'd ever heard from him, leapt to the front of her mind. She continued, saying, "I put the mission over you, Deeks." She wanted to look away but forced herself to hold his gaze, knowing he deserved at least that much. As tears spilled down her face, she finished with, "I'm ashamed of my actions that day, and I'll regret them for the rest of my life."

He pulled her hand to his chest, telling her, "Kensi, it's OK. We weren't even together then. Plus, how many lives were at stake?"

The fact that he'd minimized his value to her because they weren't a couple yet made her feel even worse. She couldn't understand it and rushed out a reply, saying, "Yeah, but I was in love with you. Please tell me the truth - deep down, aren't you angry with me for abandoning you, just like you were mad after Isaac?" She wanted to know. She wanted to give him a chance to express his anger. He deserved to have that chance, and she deserved to have to hear it.

Deeks thought for a moment, and she waited for his condemnation. He told her, "I was never angry about that… I can say I was… disappointed a little, I guess? It felt like a message about where I rated in your world. But again, coming in second to saving hundreds of thousands of people isn't a terrible place to be."

His lack of anger surprised her, but then she realized it was grounded in his lack of self-worth. That he didn't see himself as being worthy of being rescued, that he didn't see himself as being valuable to her even when she had treasured him so, saddened her. He was right that she had put the mission before his needs, but his acceptance of it felt wrong. She told him, "But you wouldn't have left me there."

Again he sat thoughtfully before responding with a sad smile. "No, I don't think I could've. Which is why Hetty would never have let me be the one to go in."

She told him sincerely, "You're a better person than me."

He huffed out a surprised laugh and quickly replied, "No, no. No, Kens, that's a crazy thing to say. Honestly? I'm glad you came because you gave me hope that I might make it out of there alive. And in the end, I'm glad you helped me complete that mission. It lets me feel proud about what we accomplished. I'm glad all that pain wasn't for nothing."

She felt like he was trying to find ways to make her feel better, and hated that he always put her before himself. She didn't think she could change that in this conversation, though, so she settled for assuring him, "You should be proud."

He smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

She hesitantly asked, "Can you forgive me?" She didn't think she really deserved his forgiveness, but thought hearing it might bring her a slight sense of closure.

"Aw, Kens," he replied, "I don't think there's anything to forgive, but if it makes you feel better, than yes, I forgive you. And I love you."

Kensi forced herself to calm down, realizing that she had made the conversation more about her than she'd intended. She wanted to put the focus back on his needs. After a few moments, she said, "I love you too... You know what? Both of those times, I thought I might strangle Hetty."

He chuckled. "Yeah, there've been times when I would have paid to see you do that… I love her to death for bringing me onto the team, for protecting me from Internal Affairs, and most of all, for bringing me you." She smiled. "But I keep having to relearn that she'll always put the mission above us, even if she sees us as her family. She knew the moment she heard from Nell about me running into Ripley that she was gonna send me undercover... I guess somebody has to be like that, to be able to do that job. I'm just glad I don't have to do it."

"Agreed, partner," Kensi said. She found Deeks' assessment to be spot on, but wanted to introduce another idea she was sure he hadn't considered, so she added, "But I also think her actions that day showed how much confidence she still has in your abilities. You've still got it, you know that?"

"Yeah, I just don't want to use it ever again," he replied. Kensi thought he was aiming for humor but his expression remained completely serious. She leaned forward tentatively and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to press into his ribs. She kissed him and he sighed contentedly and she slowly melted into his side, relieved that the conversation had at least landed them in a good place.

After a few moments, he asked, "Wait, you were in love with me back when I kissed you on that hilltop?"

She laughed at his finally catching onto her admission, kissed him and said, "Aw, baby, I was all in long before we were officially all in. And I plan on staying that way for as long as you'll have me."

He hugged her tighter and whispered in a cracking voice, "Till the end of time and back." She couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life any other way.

A/N: Call me self-indulgent, but I couldn't help but use this opportunity to make Kensi apologize for her behavior in "Ascent." What can I say? I love Kensi, and I love how happy she makes Deeks, but I hold a grudge.

By the way, I chose the name Delilah for Deeks' daughter because I liked that it started with a D, but it also seemed kinda right because Eric Christian Olsen had a dog named Delilah. Is that weird?