Marty and Carmen reached his Jeep and got in. She briefly put a finger to her lips, reminding him not to speak until they'd ensured that the Russians hadn't planted any listening devices in the car. She dialed into Bates, saying, "Hi Rodge."

"You're clear," Bates replied. "We had eyes on the vehicle the whole time. No one approached."

They debriefed as Marty drove back to Maria's apartment. When they hung up, he glanced over at Carmen and told her, "I'm sorry, I know I didn't handle that as calmly as you wanted."

"It's OK, Marty. I know that was hard." Carmen closed her eyes, shook her head and sighed, seeming to relive the experience.

"You were so convincing. You even cried!" he told her. "It was hard not to believe your fear- it felt so real. And I know my fear sure as hell was real."

Her laughing response surprised him as she said, "Thanks. It's why they pay me the big bucks," but Marty thought he saw pain flash through her eyes before she turned to gaze out the window.

When they arrived at her place, Carmen showed him how to check for listening devices, but they didn't find any. That night they chose comfort food for dinner, ordering in pizza and watching the Dodgers game on TV. Marty found himself replaying the entire encounter at the beach in his head, analyzing his decisions and second guessing his performance. He kept going back to the sight of Pietyr's hands roaming over Carmen's body, invading her privacy in such a disgusting, violating way. He set down his second piece of pizza, his appetite suddenly gone.

"You OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I kinda think you're worried about something. Maybe a lot of things. We can talk about it. I know this has been a lot to process."

"Yeah, no, um, you're right, it has been a lot. Nothing I ever imagined having to deal with. But I just can't stop thinking about that asshole's hands on you in the water… It pisses me off."

She told him in a calm voice, "Marty, you gotta remember that I'm tougher than I look, right? I mean, the exact same thing happened to you- twice now. You seem to have shaken it off, why don't you think I can do the same? Or maybe that's still part of what's got you trying to toss away perfectly good pizza?"

He considered her questions, not sure of the answers. "Yeah, I don't know, actually. I think I compartmentalized it right after it happened. Maybe that's a sign of some deep-seated issues on my part, I don't know. But with you... I guess it triggered some old memories."

Carmen opened her mouth to ask but he quickly cut her off, saying, "Nothing I wanna talk about, no offense… I'll try to remember what a badass you are."

She smiled, telling him, "See that you do. I've dealt with way worse on this job, Marty. You don't need to worry about me."

He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, but this time she replied, "Nothing I want to talk about, no offense."

"None taken." He picked his pizza back up and tried to show more enthusiasm for the cheesy goodness, but he couldn't stop thinking about the dangers of Carmen's job. He said, "Can I ask you something else?"

She squinted at him, apparently assessing how invasive his question might be, but nodded her assent.

"How do you deal with your life being constantly in danger? How do you cope with the stress, the fear?"

She sat quietly for a moment, finishing up a bite of her own pizza. "I don't know... It's just part of the job. I guess you get used to it? It's a trade-off I think, because at the end of the day I get to do good, to protect people. I see the impacts I have and the difference I make. It makes it all worth it."

"Did you always want to be a police officer?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I lived in a neighborhood where people who looked like me weren't treated fairly by the cops. Where my brothers and cousins had to be afraid of what might happen if they got pulled over. I didn't want anything to do with cops."

He tilted his head, intrigued by her motivations. "What changed?"

"My dad always used to say, 'Be the change you want to see in the world.' He and my mom always told me how strong I was, and that I could do anything I set my mind to. One day the idea of becoming a police officer popped into my head, and it just burrowed away in there. I couldn't get it out. I finally looked into it more and decided that maybe it was a good way for me to follow my dad's advice. Maybe it was a way for me to make a difference. I'll never be able to fix all the problems at LAPD, but I can at least serve as an example of a cop who treats people fairly and works to protect them."

Her courage impressed him and he realized how little she'd ever needed his protection at the meet. "Wow," he said, "That's truly impressive... I appreciate you being here to protect me."

"Just part of the job," she said, smiling as she stood to take the pizza box out to the kitchen.

And with that, the operation was off and running. Carmen provided the Russians an initial cache of intel that didn't interfere with the heart of their on-going investigation but did provide just enough accurate information to keep the Russians believing she was on their side, and confident that their operation hadn't been overly compromised. She pretended to balk when they made it clear their relationship was to be a long-term affiliation and not the one-time exchange that had initially been negotiated, but quickly caved into their repeated demands.

Marty split his time between his own apartment and Maria's. He was always at her place any time she had a scheduled interaction with the Russians. Carmen tried to discourage him from being around during these times, but he felt better knowing she was OK. He told her that it was "in character" for him to want to protect Maria so he needed to make an appearance.

It was after she'd made the third drop that she came home one night with a black eye and a split lip.

"Oh my god, Maria, what happened?" Marty asked as he leapt up from the sofa. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. She attempted a reassuring smile but grimaced when it pulled at her lip.

"Sit down," Marty ordered, going to the kitchen to retrieve some ice and first aid supplies.

He returned, sat on the coffee table facing her, and asked, "What happened?" Unconsciously he sought physical contact, and his hands drifted down to her knees. She accepted the closeness without reacting and exhaled a shaky breath.

"They wanted me to give them Sarah McKinley's location. They're still determined to keep young Nikolai out of prison."

"Obviously you couldn't do that, right? But what did you tell them?"

"I said the Task Force didn't have information on witness locations, that it was kept by a different department and had a whole other level of security… They didn't like the answer."

Marty's stomach dropped at the idea that she might have been hurt even worse than first appeared, or that, god forbid, they'd assaulted her in other ways. He slowly reached for her hand, taking it in his, and asked, "What did they do to you?"

She read the concern on his pained face and reassured him, "It's OK Marty, they just slapped me around, nothing worse… I promise."

"OK. How did you leave things with them? Are they going to accept that you can't give them what they're asking for?" he asked as he began to gently clean her face.

"Hopefully? But watch your back more than usual for the next few days, OK? I don't want them to take their frustration out on you."

Marty did watch his back over the next few days. Several times he noticed suspicious-looking men lurking around the parking lot at his apartment, once even in the grocery store lot, but each time he left the area as quickly as he could. Still, he couldn't shake the awful feeling of vulnerability and started sleeping more often at Maria's. He even started researching self-defense classes, thinking it might give him more of a sense of control over the situation.

He tentatively asked Carmen if she thought it was a stupid idea but she encouraged him to pursue it. "Every little bit helps, as long as it doesn't make you cocky," she told him. "Remember, you are not a police officer, no matter how many cool tricks you learn in your class."

The instructor of his selected class had a mixed martial arts background, and he intimidated Marty just a little, but he found himself learning some valuable skills. He decided that, if he got out of this whole thing alive, he could continue the classes and begin actively working to pick up some of his very attractive classmates. He told himself that he'd had to tone down his naturally flirtatious self because of his fake girlfriend, but the truth was that he'd begun to think of Carmen as something more than just a police officer working to protect him, more than some sort of weird pseudo-work partner.

He tried to convince himself that his feelings were merely evidence of how well he'd taken on his cover story, that it had become second nature, but he realized that he'd developed genuine feelings toward Carmen. The situation was so odd of course- he'd spent more time with her than just about any real girlfriend he'd ever had, which only drove home to him how brief all his previous relationships had been.

But there was more to it than that. Her gentle humor, her incredible strength even as she played the damsel in distress, and that warm feeling he got from bringing out her soft smile all had won his heart. She'd been an incredible support to him, and he'd never have managed to get this far with someone less kind. It was her kindness in the face of such hard, cruel men while she did such a difficult job that he found most appealing.

But he had to suppress these feelings, at least for now. He had to keep things professional. It wouldn't be fair to her to try to start something now. It would distract them both at a time when they needed to focus on staying alive. At least that's what he tried to tell himself. After this was all over though? He just might unleash the full-on Marty Deeks charm offensive.

One night they sat together on the sofa as Carmen flipped through the channels while Marty prepped for a trial. She paused for a few seconds on an old, black and white movie in which a handsome attorney was giving an impassioned speech to a jury, telling them, "I'm no idealist to believe firmly in the integrity of our courts and of our jury system. That's no ideal to me. That is a living, working reality! Now I am confident that you gentlemen will review without passion the evidence that you have heard, come to a decision, and restore this man to his family."

Grinning, she asked Marty, "Is this what you'll be saying in court tomorrow?"

He looked up from his paperwork and with the beginnings of a smile on his own face, told her, "Something like that. But you'll never guess how this particular movie is connected to me…"

It was a chilly winter evening and little Marty and his mom were snuggled in front of the television. She flipped through the options, commenting on the level of inappropriate content each entry contained. She eventually stopped on an old, black and white movie where a young girl was having a heart to heart talk with a man who appeared to be her father. His mom exclaimed, "This is it, Marty! This is the man you're named after!"

"This is Atticus?" he asked. His mother had told him about his middle name's origins, but this was the first time he'd seen the actual proof.

"Yes! That is Atticus Finch, a smart and wonderful lawyer played by the handsomest movie star I've ever seen, Gregory Peck. You certainly didn't get his dark hair, but you're definitely just as handsome."

Marty smiled at the compliment and studied the man. He seemed kind and gentle, and Marty liked the way he talked to his daughter. His middle name had always embarrassed him. He'd never known anyone else named Atticus. But maybe he could learn to live with it after all.

Carmen grinned. "Atticus? I want so badly to tease you about that – and know that I definitely will at random times in the future – but for now I just wanna tell you how adorable that story is."

"Is that a threat?" Marty asked playfully, a crooked grin on his face as he reached for one of Carmen's nearby feet that she'd stuffed under a pillow by his side.

"You wouldn't," she said as she tried to pull away.

"Only if you agree that the name Atticus is noble and distinguished, as my mother always told me."

Carmen laughed and replied, "Oh my god, Marty, you're making this even funnier... I have to give your mom props though. She sounds like she doesn't let anyone stop her from doing what she wants."

Her comment threw him. He tried to cover, chuckling and agreeing with her assessment, even as he released her leg, but Carmen could read him too easily. Rather than continuing the teasing, she awkwardly changed the subject and the channel, and the moment was over.

Over the next couple months, Carmen made a few more intel drops to keep the Russians on the hook, all the while tracking everyone she met, slowly broadening their understanding of the criminal network and providing new avenues of investigation for the Task Force to pursue. The wiretaps they put on the burner phones the Russians used to contact Maria proved most fruitful. They didn't change them out as often as good tradecraft would have called for, so LAPD was able to track other incoming and outgoing calls made, leading to a treasure trove of new evidence.

During this time, Marty largely returned to his normal life. He resumed work, saw clients, and even surfed most mornings. He still carried his gun everywhere he went, and he couldn't believe how comfortable he'd become with its constant presence. He'd never have imagined being able to tolerate having a reminder of the most painful memory of his childhood so close, but he'd managed to focus on its present day purpose of keeping him alive. Most days he could almost convince himself he was safe walking around the streets of L.A. But even though his life, on the surface, appeared back to normal, the continuing tension weighed on him. He regularly pestered Carmen for updates on the operation and wanted to know when it would be over.

One night when he and Carmen were conferring with Bates by phone, he got the news he'd been longing for.

"It's time," Bates told them. "We're ready to take them all down."

A/N: I haven't been able to stop all the uses of "I'm fine" these two have exchanged. It's just felt like what they'd tell one another. But I did try to avoid the use of being "good" as a counterpoint the way Deeks and Kensi do. I wanted that to stay unique to their thing.

The quotes from To Kill a Mockingbird are taken from the movie, screenplay by Horton Foote, based on Harper Lee's 1960 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel of the same name.