A/N: One more time, please heed the Chapter 1 author's note about potentially triggering content.
After Marty had caught his breath and let the sound of the waves sooth his racing pulse, he staggered to his feet, filed back to his Jeep, put on a t-shirt, and then drove back to Carmen's generic low-rise apartment in the sea of generic low-rise apartment buildings that made up nearby Palms, just inland from Venice. He thought he might have spotted a tail but really had no idea, although it no longer mattered since the Russians knew where Carmen lived, and his returning there after the big meet would be his natural next move. He parked, still on guard for potential trouble as he walked to her apartment door.
She opened it and stepped back, allowing him to enter. She shut the door and gently grabbed his wrist, pulling him after her into the dining room. She eyed the cut on his lip as she pointed for him to take a seat and asked, "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine," he said, kicking his flip-flops off before he followed her order to sit. "Just another day at the beach."
She shook her head as she pulled her phone out, dialed a number and put the call on speaker. Bates' voice came on the line.
"I gotta hand it to you, Deeks," he said, "It takes a special touch to goad these guys into such a public display of violence."
"Um, thanks?" Marty replied.
"I'm gonna let your partner there explain a few more things to you about the subtleties of setting up the bad guys, but all in all, you did good, kid. We think they bought it. The man doing all the talking is a mid-level brigadier named Miroslav Pasternak. He definitely seems to see you and Maria as a path to a promotion."
They discussed the logistics of the next meet and Bates signed off. Carmen set her phone down and leaned toward Marty, a concerned expression clouding her eyes as they looked him up and down. She asked, "OK, how badly are you really hurt?"
"Like I said, I'm fine, really."
She reached out and took hold of the edge of his t-shirt and started to lift it. He pushed her hand away. "Seriously, Carmen, I'm OK." He didn't know whether to be annoyed at her inquisitiveness, touched by her concern or turned on by her proximity.
"I want to see," she replied in serious tone. "You need to be completely honest with me about things like this. About everything. You can't hide things from me or it could get one or both of us killed."
Her words sank in and reminded him how his actions - and his reactions - could affect their operation. Still, she needn't be concerned over a few punches, and he rolled his eyes before he reluctantly pulled his t-shirt off. Carmen's sharp intake of breath told him the bruising around his abdomen was more than noticeable. She reached her delicate fingers out to the bruises over his ribcage and he flinched away before she could touch him.
"I wanna make sure nothing's broken," she told him.
"Nothing's broken, trust me," he replied, suddenly uncomfortable with her attention.
"Do you even know what broken ribs feel like?"
"Yeah, actually, I do. And again, I'm fine, OK?"
She looked like she wanted to ask more, but instead got up and went into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a large, soft-sided ice pack, which she handed to Marty while telling him, "Let's talk in the living room."
He followed her there and put his t-shirt back on before gratefully sinking down into the comfy sofa cushions. He held the ice pack to his sore ribs and relaxed into the cool relief it provided.
"Now we debrief," she said.
"OK, what's that entail?"
"Normally you'd report on everything that happened, but since we watched and listened, that's not necessary. Instead, we're going to talk about your thought processes and try to help you learn from this experience so the next time will go even better, and preferably without violence of any kind."
"OK, that sounds like a good goal."
"So tell me what you were thinking when you refused to set up a meet for me." She ought to be angry with him for going off-script, yet the only thing Marty could discern from her tone and expression was curiosity.
He took a moment to think back to the conversation. "Well, I knew I couldn't look too eager, or it might make them worry it was a set-up. But then I think I just reacted more viscerally to the idea of those men getting their hands on you. That search they did out in the water, that was… not pleasant, and it just made me want to protect you. I get that's not my job, but in that moment I couldn't help it."
"You're right- that isn't your job," she said calmly. "Listen Marty, you did well today. You used your emotions to sell your cover and they totally bought it. But I want to make it clear that you don't need to protect me." Her voice began to rise. "I attended six months at the police academy and did five years on patrol and as a detective before another two working undercover. I am the one who needs to protect you. I could kick your ass. Got it?"
He couldn't stop a smile at the surprisingly appealing idea of her kicking his ass. He looked up from the carpet he'd been staring at to see her waiting for his response with her head tilted and an eyebrow raised. He schooled his expression, saying, "OK. I got it. I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize. I just want you to remember that just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't protect myself, and it doesn't mean that you need to protect me from whatever unpleasantness might occur. It feels sexist even though I think your heart's in the right place. It's part of my job to deal with things like that. And just because my alias is terrified does not mean that I am. You have to trust me."
He nodded, telling her, "You're right. And I do trust you. I just, I guess I have, um, more experience with women who weren't quite as strong. I'll definitely try to tone it down. It's just a gut reflex, I guess."
Ten-year-old Marty scampered downstairs a few days before Halloween to show off his new costume. His mom had finally caved into his incessant pleading for a store-bought Batman outfit. He'd always had homemade costumes, which had done the job, but he'd always coveted his friends' fancy costumes that came out of a bag and looked, to his eyes anyway, much more real than the versions his mom creatively devised.
He jumped down the last few stairs and landed at the entrance to the living room, where he gleefully shouted out in as low and manly a voice as he could muster, "I'm Batman."
His mother smiled at his use of Batman's catchphrase and told him, "Oh, yes, I can see that. Watch out for Catwoman- she's trouble."
He rolled his eyes and ran back upstairs to look at himself in the bedroom mirror. The fake muscles painted into the abdomen and legs made him feel like a strong man, big and powerful enough to fight all the bad guys. He raced back downstairs to ask his mom a question, making the same boisterous entrance, only to see that his father had just arrived home. He looked over at his mother to gauge her expression, knowing it would communicate his dad's mood, and his heart sunk when he saw fear there.
His dad turned to him and said, "You're Batman, huh? That's a mighty fancy costume you got there, Marty. Looks expensive. Bertie, what the hell were you thinking? You're gonna spoil this kid, make him think money grows on trees."
"Oh, Gordie, he's never had a store-bought costume. I just wanted to do something nice for him."
The smack across her cheek stunned both her and Marty. "No wonder he's such an ungrateful little punk. You need to take that back to the store and get your money back. Marty, go take that off right now."
Marty knew he had no choice but to comply, but he hesitated as disappointment washed over him. His mom tried one more time, "Gordon, how about if-"
"No!" his father yelled. "Do as I say, both of you." He slapped his mom again and this time she fell backwards into a nearby armchair.
Maybe it was boldness brought on by his would-be superhero alter ego, maybe it was just that little Marty really wanted to keep that costume, and maybe it was that he was tired of witnessing and absorbing so much pain. All three likely combined to generate his gut reaction. Without thinking, he ran to stand in front of his mother and looked up at his dad, crying out, "Daddy, don't hurt her!"
His dad laughed a full, deep belly laugh and said, "Well look what we have here. A real life superhero. Listen, Batman, I'm gonna teach you a lesson about disobeying your father."
As his mom cried out and tried to shelter Marty in her arms, his dad wrenched him away from her, backhanding her onto the floor. In one fell swoop he picked Marty up and heaved him toward the wall. He hit the wall but also managed to bang his chest against the side of the fireplace mantel. He dropped to the ground, unable to move, and he gasped for breath as sharp pain radiated from his side. He wasn't fully aware, but he did register his dad kicking his mom while he could do nothing to protect her. His broken ribs took weeks to fully heal, and he missed Halloween entirely that year.
A few days later a second meet with Pasternak and Petrov was planned at the same location. Given the timing early on a Tuesday morning, there was concern about a lack of beachgoers there so Bates arranged for extra undercover operatives to set up a group yoga session nearby. Marty and Carmen took their places by the rocks, Carmen wearing a striking turquoise bikini top with turquoise and black striped boy shorts. She held his hand and pulled him close, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Trust me, OK partner?" she said.
He blew out a breath and said, "OK… Shit, I think I'm more nervous this time."
She gave him a quick smile, apparently trying to get him to relax. "That's fine, Marty, they'll expect you to be nervous. Just try to keep calm. Let me take the lead. This is what I do, right? And don't freak out if I look scared- that's what they're expecting, OK?"
"OK, yeah, right," he replied as he hugged her and looked out at the waves, seeking their solace yet again.
She cleared her throat and stepped away slightly, still holding his hand, as the same pair of men approached. Pietyr and Lev again had their swim trunks on, and Marty forgot all about Carmen's previous pep talk as a fierce need to keep them away from her overtook him. He immediately reacted, and stepped in front of her.
"No, man, you are not gonna touch my girl."
Pietyr just laughed, totally relaxed and in complete control. Then he pointed to Marty's bruises, which had reached the green and yellow stages, saying, "Did you not learn anything the last time we met? We will do whatever we want."
Marty felt Carmen squeeze his hand but ignored her signal, telling Pietyr, "Yeah, and we'll start screaming our heads off and those yoga classmates over there will definitely take notice."
Carmen squeezed his hand again, more firmly, and told him in a quiet, quivering voice, "Marty, it's OK. I just want to get this over with, OK?"
He looked at her and saw the strength in her eyes and nodded, then looked back at the Russians and said, "OK, let's do this. But I'm staying with her the whole time, and that's not up for negotiation."
"Lead the way," said Pietyr with a grin.
They trudged out into the waves and stopped when the water rose above Marty's waist. "I'll go first," said Marty, still clutching Carmen's hand. He dunked himself under, and this time he stayed long enough to hopefully make Pietyr and his partner happy. As he resurfaced, he let out the breath he'd been holding once he saw that they hadn't moved. He gestured to Carmen to take her turn, and she mirrored his motions and ducked under the water, taking a few seconds before she surfaced.
Pietyr moved in to do the more invasive search of his swim trunks, and as Marty's jaw reflexively clenched, he tried to relax and smile at Carmen, to offer some encouragement. As he looked into her eyes though, he could see that Carmen didn't actually need any. Still, Maria would so he continued, offering, "It's fine, Maria. It's gonna be OK, sweetie."
When Pietyr was done, he moved over to Carmen and pulled her down until the water covered her chest. Marty could see his hands move first over, and then under, her bikini and it was all he could do to stand there and watch. Carmen had her eyes clenched shut. She looked like she was going to break down, which prompted Marty to plead with Pietyr, "Please man, can you make it fast?"
Pietyr looked at Marty, whose expression remained one of supplication. The Russian merely grinned and then moved down to Maria's shorts, but to Marty's relief, he did check them expeditiously. Then, he gestured back to the beach as he held Carmen's hand as if to escort her back.
When they got back onshore, Lev picked up their towels and offered them up. Marty quickly dried off his face and then wrapped his own towel around Carmen.
By then Pasternak, Petrov and their entourage had arrived and Pasternak stepped forward, addressing Carmen. "Ms. Jimenez, I apologize for the overly familiar treatment. It is necessary in my line of work. I do hope you can forgive me."
Carmen stood, shivering and pulling the towel tighter around herself, and she nodded as she eyed the older Russian man with apparent fear.
"Very good. It is important that we develop a good relationship, that we grow to trust one another."
Carmen remained silent.
"Tell me about your job, about your access to sensitive information."
Carmen explained, in halting terms that showed Maria's nervousness, exactly what type of information she could access and copy, and Pasternak demanded that she obtain everything she could on their operation and provide it to them the following week.
"I don't know if I can collect it all that quickly without being caught. And I don't want them to know I did this. I don't wanna get caught. I just want to keep Marty safe."
"My dear, we do not want you to be caught either. We will be discreet in our utilization of the information, of that you can be certain… And sweet Maria, do not think that you can betray us. What we did to Marty last week is nothing compared to what we will do to both of you if you betray our trust."
Carmen's eyes bulged at the threat and she allowed a few tears to roll down her cheeks.
Pasternak continued. "I am sorry, my dear, to be so blunt, but we want to make sure the terms of our relationship are completely clear. I am not so certain they are to your boyfriend here."
He made a small gesture to his men, who stepped up again to block the view of the yoga class as Pietyr and Lev grabbed Marty. He grimaced as Pietyr clamped his grip around his still somewhat tender arm right where he'd been shot, but he made no move to pull away. One of the bodyguards flashed a knife in front of his bare stomach and then pointed it slightly lower.
Carmen squeaked out a "Marty?" as Petrov grabbed her, flashing his own knife.
Marty's sense of protectiveness surged within him but tried not to overreact. He stopped himself from shouting for help and told himself to follow Carmen's lead. If she didn't use the safe word, he had to trust that her assessment of the situation was far better than his. Still, he breathed out a "Please," toward the men who held her.
Pietyr slid the knife along Carmen's stomach, up over her breasts and to her neck, where he paused. Anger boiled within Marty at watching her threatened. He wanted to explode, to fight them all, to protect her from being hurt, or even just frightened.
Pasternak interjected, telling them, "If you both want to live, you will do exactly as we ask, when we ask. Do I need to make a clearer case, or have you gotten the message?" he asked as he turned to look at Marty.
Marty looked into Carmen's face, searching for the strength he knew he'd find there, the strength that could help him see this through, to take the emotional abuse and physical threats. He saw her shaking in fear, yet he knew she wanted nothing more than to make these men believe their story, so he looked over at Pasternak as submissively as he could manage.
"Yes, sir. That's all we want, to stay alive. Please don't hurt Maria. We'll give you everything you want. We understand the stakes here, and we're anxious to do whatever we can to help you."
"That's very good, Mr. Deeks. Ms. Jimenez, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to a successful working relationship. We will be in touch to collect what you owe."
With that, the Russians walked away as Carmen fell into Marty's arms and he held her as she whispered, "We got 'em right where we want 'em."
A/N: The reference to Batman wasn't just a nod to COD's co-starring role. It was actually the most popular Halloween costume in 1989 due to Tim Burton's Batman having just arrived on the scene that summer. It kicked off a wave of enthusiasm for comically expensive Caped Crusader and Joker getups. A piece in the Richmond Times-Dispatch a week before Halloween noted that factories were working round-the-clock to crank out official Batman ($275) and Joker ($320!) costumes. I'm pretty sure Roberta paid a lot less than that. (By the way, COD didn't appear as Robin until the third film of the series, 1995's Batman Forever, with Val Kilmer playing Batman.)