Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my father's come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends…
Ring out the bells again
Like we did when Spring began
Wake me up when September ends
- "Wake Me Up When September Ends," Green Day
. . .
Early on a mid-October Saturday morning, a series of messy kisses woke Deeks from a dreamless sleep. He opened one eye to see his daughter's giggling face as she continued to plant kisses all over his head. He wrapped her up in his arms, wishing he could keep her there with him forever. He didn't know how he'd ever survive her someday leaving for college. Sure, that trauma wouldn't happen for quite some time, but he already realized how quickly time was passing and he tried to cherish every moment with both her and Derrick. "Good morning, DeeDee," he told her, smacking a series of loud kisses all over her own head, eliciting more giggles from the little girl.
Beside him Kensi stirred, turning toward them as she stretched. She opened her eyes and smiled at Deeks, leaning down to kiss her daughter and then back up to kiss her husband. "Morning," she whispered.
"Morning, sunshine," he replied with a crooked smile.
As Deeks continued to cuddle with Delilah, Kensi asked, "What did you dream about last night?"
Even as his nightmares had grown few and far between, she'd continued to ask him the same question each morning. Deeks speculated that she had suffered her own trauma worrying over him, and that she still continued to worry unnecessarily. He'd taken to making up the most outrageous and silly answers to her question, seeing if he could one-up himself each time, always going at least far enough to draw a smile if not an outright laugh. But in the end, he always told her the truth, letting her know if he remembered anything important from the night before.
This morning he kept his answer short but honest, certain that Delilah wouldn't allow him time to spin any tall tales. "Nothing," he told her. "I mean, nothing I remember, anyway."
They both drew comfort from his answer. He pulled Kensi to him and kissed her, softly at first, but then with more passion. It wasn't much longer before Delilah began to fidget between them, fighting for their attention. When they both turned to kiss her, her face looked so happy that Deeks took a moment to lean away slightly to better take in her and her mother together, to soak in double the sunshine.
He and Derrick spent the morning volunteering at the shelter. Deeks had been reluctant, or maybe terrified was a better word, to bring Derrick back to the same place where they'd encountered Ripley, the white supremacist who had ignited the past four months of turmoil. It wasn't until Hetty informed him that Ripley had been picked up on drug charges in Nevada that he felt confident enough to return to Skid Row with his son. Today Derrick had read stories to a group of younger children while he'd reviewed some legal documents with the shelter's manager.
They finished their work and then made their way slowly over to Spring Street for tacos. Deeks had been making good progress rehabbing his knee. He still carried a cane but relied on it less and less. His only concern remained his ability to surf, and he was hopeful that he'd get back out on the waves in the next few months, even if he needed to wear a brace to do it. In the meantime, Derrick had offered to go stand-up paddleboarding with him. He knew the boy wasn't overly fond of the ocean, which made his offer all the kinder. Deeks planned to take him out on the Long Beach canals instead, thinking maybe Derrick would enjoy the sport more under smoother conditions.
They arrived at the beautiful old Arcade Building with its arched, skylit passageway between Spring and Broadway, and entered Guisado's, placing their orders at the counter and snagging one of the restaurant's few tables.
While they waited for their food, Deeks asked, "How did it go with the reading today?"
"It was good. They were a sweet bunch of kids," Derrick replied.
Deeks had watched the last part of Derrick's storytelling from the back of the room, and Derrick's animated recounting, using different voices for the different characters, had impressed him and had easily held the children's attention. But even more notable had been the way he'd interacted with them individually once the session broke up, moving from child to child to let each one know that he cared about them. It had made his heart sing with pride. He told him, "You're really good with them, you know? Patient and kind and caring... I'm so proud of you, Derrick."
Derrick looked embarrassed by the praise, glancing around uncomfortably to see if his food was on its way yet. He sighed and glanced out the window before looking at Deeks and replying, "Thanks, Marty. I really like helping them. I just wish I could do more."
Deeks understood the sentiment. Everything on Skid Row was overwhelming – the size, the smells, the sounds, the congestion, and most of all the vast quantity of people in need. He didn't want Derrick to feel discouraged by it all. "Don't discount your contributions," he told him. "We can each only do what we can do, but every bit helps. You don't know what a huge difference a little love and compassion can make in someone's life."
Derrick nodded, a serious expression on his face, and told Deeks, "I think I do." Derrick's words resounded in his heart and he smiled at his son but said no more, careful to avoid pushing the conversation into too mushy a place, not wanting to embarrass the boy further. Derrick would kill him if he got remotely teary-eyed at their favorite lunch spot. He flashed back to the initial reason he'd wanted to bring him down here, to help Derrick see that despite all the pain he'd suffered, he was still lucky to be loved and safe. Today, he remarked to himself that he was the lucky one.
With perfect timing, the tacos arrived and they both smiled and dug into their respective selections. Deeks changed the subject slightly, asking, "What were you reading today?"
Derrick replied, "For the older kids, Mercy Watson. It's about a pig who likes buttered toast and gets into trouble."
"Hey that sounds like me!" Deeks joked.
Derrick laughed, "Yeah, I guess it does." He grew thoughtful once more and then added, "You know, one of the books I read to the younger kids did make me think of you."
"Oh, yeah?" Deeks asked. "Which one?"
"Ferdinand the Bull," he replied.
Deeks smiled, saying, "I remember that from when I was little. I'm glad it's still around." He chewed his taco, thinking back to the title character, who only wanted to sit in the shade and smell the flowers even when men came and tried to make him fight in the bullring. "I remember wanting to be Ferdinand… and wishing my dad was more like him."
"Well I think maybe you are him now," Derrick told him. "You're done with fighting, right?"
Deeks couldn't believe how Derrick could take a children's book and turn it into an existential discussion. It was a definite talent of his. He thought about his future plans, none of which involved new assignments from law enforcement. And he thought about Max Gentry and his father, and how he considered himself done with them both.
He replied with conviction, telling his son, "Yes, Derrick, I am most definitely done with fighting."
"Well, then," Derrick told him with a smile, "Now you can sit under the cork tree in the shade and smell the flowers."
Deeks smiled back at the thought. He still had everything he'd ever wanted, and he was grateful beyond measure. "That sounds pretty great, Derrick. Just as long as you and Little D and Kensi are all there with me," he said.
"And tacos," Derrick added.
"OK, yeah, and tacos," Deeks agreed. "Sounds like a plan."
A/N: There it is, my second ever story. I'd venture to say there will be few people who like it AND fluffy story number one (although this epilogue took a definite fluffy turn). Sorry for being so unpredictable.
The Mercy Watson books, written by Kate DiCamillo and illustrated by Chris Van Dusen, were a favorite of my niece when she was young. The Story of Ferdinand, by Munro Leaf with drawings by Robert Lawson, was one of my childhood favorites. Believe it or not, I had written this chapter long before our quarantine and Eric Christian Olsen's Social Distance Storytime began. In fact, after one of his first readings, I suggested he should read Ferdinand and noted that Ferdinand reminded me of Deeks. He never read it, but he did reply with a "hahahaha," for whatever that's worth.
I highly recommend the taco sampler (filled with different mini-tacos) at Guisado's if you ever get the opportunity.
As previously mentioned, this story's title comes from a line in a Green Day song called "Give Me Novacaine," from an album called American Idiot. I chose the lyric for the title because it reminded me of Max, a demon in Deeks' own head. But once I had chosen it, it actually inspired me to add the recurring nightmares to the story. This chapter's title song is about the death of the Green Day front man's father, who died when he was ten. (Of course, unlike Deeks, he was sad about losing his father.)
The album is my all-time favorite. It's a rock opera story of a young man (Jesus of Suburbia) whose dark alter ego (St. Jimmy) leads him into trouble. Near the end of the story, the alter ego dies after Jesus rejects him, allowing Jesus to find peace. I only realized the similarities after I had the story mostly written, and so it seemed fitting to pull from its lyrics for the story and chapter titles. Technically, I pulled them from the soundtrack to the Broadway show of the same name, which also includes songs from their follow-up album, 21st Century Breakdown, plus a few extras.
Thanks to everyone who offered advice along the way, including Sweet Lu, Psyched, Bluenet13, Jericho Steele, and Ejzah. This story couldn't have happened without their wisdom. And if somehow you haven't read all their amazing writing, I encourage you to go do that immediately. You won't be sorry. I feel so lucky to have been able to pick the brains of such a group of all-star writers.
Speaking of advice, if anyone out there is an attorney, or a social worker, I'm very much in need of someone who could answer some legal and procedural questions for a new story. Please PM me here or on Tumblr (anonkp) if you have time to help.
And finally, a huge thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited, or commented. As a new fiction writer, every bit of feedback is helpful and encouraging, and I greatly appreciate all of it. Even if you haven't shared your comments yet - or maybe especially if you haven't - I'd love to know what you thought of my little story.
Karen