With the op and his testimony behind him, Marty returned to his old life. The Russians' reach could still extend beyond their prison cells, so he continued to watch his back, but he began to allow himself to believe that things really would return to normal. Yet somehow, he found he wasn't altogether thrilled at the prospect.

He'd never been naive- most of his clients were guilty of their crimes. But he'd never had to witness those crimes himself. Now that he'd seen - and experienced - so much violence, so much of the evilness these men were capable of, he found it difficult to head into work each day to play his assigned part in the criminal justice system. Maybe he could switch sides and work for the District Attorney's office. That definitely held an appeal. He would consider it.

One day he brought it up with Jeannine, who was as supportive as ever. "Marty," she said, "You've just begun your career. It's natural to test out different areas until you find what's right for you. I'm just glad you're still in one piece so you can go explore whatever interests you... Why did you decide to pursue law in the first place? Maybe that's something to think about, or maybe it's no longer relevant. Whatever you do, as long as you're following your heart, you'll land where you're meant to be."

The second time Marty and his mother met with Joe the public defender was to review his planned testimony about the stolen Camaro a few days before his hearing. At one point Roberta excused herself to use the bathroom and get some coffee at the small shop in the building's lobby, and Joe used her absence as an opportunity to follow up on their previous conversation. He moved his file aside and asked, "So, do you have an answer for me? About the question I asked you last time?"

Since their first meeting, Marty had given Joe's question of his future, of where he saw himself in a few years' time, considerable thought. It had unnerved him because it forced him to confront the contrast between his dreams and his expectations. They were two very different things, and the chasm between them made him feel like a failure. As much as he wanted to blow Joe off and offer a trite and safe response, looking into the man's earnest face pulled the truth right out of him.

Marty blew out a breath and said, "Honestly? I'd like to tell you I'm gonna be a big success, but I think we both know the odds are against that, and I'm way more likely to end up back here again."

Joe's open expression didn't change, and he asked, "Why do you think that is?"

Because I shot my dad and being a violent criminal is in my DNA, Marty thought. He struggled to word a less-revealing response. He shrugged, looking down before saying, "I've done other bad things before. Maybe it's just in my nature."

He peered out from behind his long blond hair, holding his breath to see if Joe would confirm his own worst fears. The man shook his head and replied, "No, Marty, you're wrong. I think that's your father talking... Yeah, I looked at your file, which includes everything that happened with him, and I don't see a single bad thing that you did. He was the bad guy, Marty, not you. You saved your mom's life. You were incredibly brave… And you might think you're your dad's son, that you inherited his terrible qualities, but genes don't make a man. You might have inherited his eyes or his hair, but his meanness? That was something he learned, probably from having shitty parents himself. You aren't destined to become a bad guy, you know? I sure don't see any indication that you are one now, even after everything he put you through."

Joe paused and Marty looked away, blinking back tears. The man was nothing if not sincere as he'd confidently stated that Marty wasn't like his father. God, could he be right? Was there any chance? The idea filled him with a profound sense of yearning, even as it went against the fundamental truths his father had drilled into him, and which the shooting had only reinforced.

"Let me ask you something else," Joe continued. "When you were thinking about where you'd be in a few years, did you have another answer, one that you wished would be your future even though you didn't see it as a real possibility?"

Marty took a deep breath. He couldn't look Joe in the eye and focused instead on that day's hideous psychedelic tie before replying.

"Yeah. I pictured myself going to college, and getting a good job doing something to help people, people like my mom... Unless I became a professional surfer," he couldn't help but add with a smirk.

Joe laughed heartily, encouraging Marty to make eye contact. "OK, that's a much better plan. I don't know how realistic the professional surfer idea is, but college? That's very doable."

"It doesn't feel doable."

"What's standing in your way? You have good grades, even without putting a lot of apparent effort into your schoolwork."

"Yeah but how would I pay for it? I should be getting jobs now just to help support my mom."

"You gotta look at college as an investment in the future, right? Your mom is getting by now without your help. Getting a degree and a good job would allow you to support her even more... You know I actually did my first two years at a community college while I worked part-time. Then I transferred to UCLA to get my degree… You know the most important part of getting yourself to college?"

Marty shook his head and waited for the answer. Joe told him, "You just have to decide to make it happen. You just have to assume you can do it and figure out the little steps to getting there. It's not rocket science, it's elbow grease plus believing it's possible. If you decide you can, then you can. You just have to take your fate into your own two hands and be the man of action who makes it happen. You can determine the kind of person you want to be, Marty, and you can decide the type of life you want to have."

He only had a few moments to ponder Joe's advice before his mother came bustling back in and they continued their preparations, but those words bounced around in his head for a long time afterward. Was his destiny already determined? Or did he have the ability to rewrite it? Maybe he could make a better life for himself after all.

As he sat on his board out past the waveline watching the sunset, Marty allowed Joe's words to reverberate once more. What did he see in his future? He was no longer certain he was on the right path. He could switch to the other side of the legal profession, but he realized that he'd also allowed a new, more radical idea to take root over the last few months.

Helping to take down the Russians had been terrifying, infuriating, and painful, but he'd also gotten more satisfaction out of the small part he played in the operation than he had from anything in his entire, albeit short, legal career. Dare he consider a full on career change from attorney to cop? How could he throw away the law after working so hard and sacrificing so much? His mother would absolutely kill him for choosing such a dangerous path, not to mention wasting so much time and money.

And did he want to be surrounded by violence, after all he'd endured as a child, and after all he'd gone through to escape that violent life to build something better for himself? He sighed, closing his eyes and letting the rhythmic sounds and gentle surges of the sea slowly drag away his stress.

The gun he now carried with him had, over time, morphed from an object of fear and shame into a tool, a means to an end, a way to protect himself and maybe even others. Maybe he had he learned how to harness its power. Maybe he could keep it from dragging him back to painful memories and instead use it for the greater good.

The previous week, he'd finally succumbed to his curiosity and jumped onto the LAPD website to learn more about the process of becoming a police officer. It would be a different world, a far cry from the law, but he couldn't get it out of his mind. He was probably - no, definitely - crazy for even considering it, but he knew a couple people he could reach out to for advice.

"Thanks for meeting me, Carmen," Marty said as the brunette walked into the coffee shop near their respective offices. She greeted him with a hug and a smile, which grew when he handed her a cup of her usual selection. They exchanged pleasantries, Carmen explaining that she was going to go under again in a few weeks and Marty avoiding the real reason for the conversation.

"What's up, Marty," she finally asked. "It feels like you have something to say, or maybe to ask?"

He sighed, gently blowing out his breath. "I wanted to get your advice about something."

"OK, shoot."

He chuckled at her apt choice of words. "I don't think I was totally happy with my job before everything happened with you guys, and I haven't been happy since going back to my normal life… I've been thinking about a career change."

"I see," she said. "Defending criminals must have lost a lot of its appeal after everything that happened?"

He nodded, saying, "Yeah, something like that. Anyway," he looked down at his coffee as he spoke, "I was thinking about applying to the Police Academy, and I wanted to see if you thought I was crazy, or if I would be any good at being a cop." He looked back up into her eyes, preparing to gauge the truthfulness of whatever she would tell him and readying himself for her to declare him too weak for the job.

"Hmmm," she said. "You are filled with surprises… You worked so hard to get to where you are now… but, I think I understand why you might see law enforcement as a better path."

Carmen took her time processing his news, and Marty sat with bated breath, waiting to hear her assessment of his potential.

"Marty," she said, leaning toward him ever so slightly, "I don't think you should rush into such a big change- LAPD is not a fully functional institution by any means." Deeks felt his stomach fall in disappointment. She was trying to let him down easy. "But," she continued, his hope rising, "if you decide to become a cop, I think you'd be a great one. Your instincts are so good, you're definitely not lacking in courage, and your heart is in the right place... You'd be doing it for all the right reasons."

"Really?" he asked, surprised at such a full-throated endorsement.

"Really."

He smiled, saying, "Thanks, Carmen. I appreciate your support."

"Anytime, partner." She smiled back, playfully nudging his leg with her boot.

They finished their drinks and Marty couldn't resist asking one more question, this one accompanied by a crooked grin. "So, what are the rules about new recruits dating seasoned undercover officers?"

"Hey, mister, who are you calling old?" Carmen said with a laugh.

"No, I said 'seasoned.' You know, experienced?"

"Mm hmm… There are certain rules, but sometimes rules can be bent."

"Oh my god, you're already trying to corrupt me," he joked.

"Never," she said. With her own grin, she told him, "But, one rule that can't be avoided is that new recruits have to cut off all their long curls."

He gasped, his hands protectively going to his head. "That's not funny! Plus, you know you'll miss these golden locks when they're gone."

Her smile continued, but grew softer. She surprised him by reaching out and gently running her hand through his hair. He stilled, waiting to see what she'd do next. She told him, "I am fond of these 'golden locks'." She leaned back and added, "You know, undercover officers get to do whatever they want with their hair. Just something to think about."

Marty pulled up to the familiar home off of La Cienega. It was closer to the 10 Freeway than the Hollywood Hills, but the neighborhood was quiet and well-kept. Its bright blue paint with dark orange porch said more about its residents than did the classic lines of its Craftsman architecture. A petite, older Asian woman met him at the door and greeted him with a warm hug.

"Mai, it's so good to see you," Marty said, hugging her back.

"Oh, Marty, it's been way too long." They exchanged pleasantries as she pulled him into the house to the kitchen and poured him a lemonade. "He's in the backyard," she told him as she handed him two glasses.

Marty headed out to the yard where his friend Joe was standing with his cane in a purple t-shirt, throwing a ball for a frisky little terrier.

"So this is how you're spending your retirement, huh?" Marty said as he set the lemonades on a nearby table.

Joe turned and greeted him, hugging him and patting him on the back. "Marty! How have you been doing? It's been too long since you visited."

"I've been fine. How about you? How have you been feeling?"

"Good. I got a new MS medication, it's been working well." He moved toward the small table where he gestured for Marty to take a seat.

"That's great. Have you and Mai been planning any trips?"

"Yeah, we just got back from a very romantic river cruise..." Joe proceeded to fill Marty in on all his and Mai's latest adventures. Each time he started asking about work, Marty deflected. Finally Joe said, "Marty, why do I get the feeling that all is not well at my old stomping grounds?"

Marty laughed at Joe's ability to read him. "Well, there have been a few developments. It's kind of a long story," he began.

"So start at the beginning. I've got all afternoon. Shall we switch to beers?"

Marty retrieved their new beverages and began recounting the whole story, being sure to "hire" Joe as his attorney with a one dollar retainer so he could share all the details.

When he finished, Joe told him, "Marty, I'm so glad you're OK. That you're safe and that you seem to be emotionally in one piece. You are, aren't you?"

Marty nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been having a lot of thoughts running through my head, and I was hoping maybe you could help me sort them out."

"Anything for a friend, Marty, you know that."

"I do, Joe, thank you… So the thing is, I'm wondering if I want to keep being a lawyer." Marty looked up into Joe's eyes to see what level of shock might register there. Like always, Joe looked as calm and non-judgmental as ever.

"I see," Joe replied. "Tell me more."

Marty did. He told Joe about all the strong emotions he'd experienced while working to stop the bad guys. The terror, the excitement, the intense feeling of satisfaction and even pride. He told him how comfortable he'd become with a gun, and about the thrill he got from fooling the Russians into believing his lies.

"Marty, do you remember anything about that conversation we had before your trial, when you told me what you wished you could do with your life?"

Joe didn't have to ask, given the powerful impact of his words that day, and his ongoing friendship and support ever since. "Of course I do, Joe. It stayed with me for a long time after we spoke."

Joe nodded, acknowledging what he and Marty had talked about many times before. "But do you remember exactly what you said you wanted to do?"

"I think I said I wanted to help people like my mother."

"Yeah, that's how I remember it too. You didn't say you wanted to be a lawyer. You just said you wanted to help people... It sounds to me like you haven't changed at all. You still want to help people, only you've just found a different way to do that that you might find more fulfilling."

Marty sat and absorbed Joe's words. "Yeah. I think I didn't have a lot of great role models as a kid. You were one of the few, you know?" He was treading into potentially emotional territory so he kept talking before Joe could make things too mushy. "And I saw how you used your position to help people, and I wanted to do the same thing. For kids like 14-year-old me, for kids like 11-year-old me… But I'm realizing that maybe I could help those kinds of people by being there in the moment when bad things are happening, to protect them. Or by being there before the bad guys even get a chance to hurt them."

"You know I'll support you no matter what you decide, Marty. I'm proud of you for dedicating your life to helping people, I don't care about how you do it. Follow your heart… You know your mother's not going to be too happy about this change, right?"

Marty sighed. "She got herself a new boyfriend and moved to Albuquerque last fall. I, uh, wasn't a fan of the guy and she and I had some words about it before she left. We haven't been talking much since."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It'll blow over between you, don't you think? It always has in the past."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's just a matter of time. She'll probably just show up at my place one day without even calling ahead, just to surprise me."

"You two have been through a lot together. I know you love each other, even if you drive each other a little crazy."

Marty smiled and nodded, saying, "Or maybe a lot crazy. But yeah, we always manage to reconnect. I'm sure we will this time too."

Joe went off to get them refills, handing a new bottle to Marty. He sat back down and asked, "So when would this change happen?"

"Maybe as soon as I can get all the pre-Academy application stuff finished. You can start classwork at the Academy at the beginning of every month. Or, I was thinking maybe I could take a little time off first. I was mulling over the idea of doing a little cross-country drive. See some of the things I've never had a chance to see, you know?"

"Sounds good, Marty. Whenever you start, I think you'll be a great cop… But you do realize, you'll have to cut your hair, right?"

Marty took Joe's advice and listened to his heart. Maybe protecting people from violence was what he was meant to do, and the sense of empowerment he'd found was worth the risk to his safety his new job would bring. He would figure out later how to break the news to his mom. But for now there was one more person he needed to tell.

"Bates, it's Deeks. I know you thought you were finished with me, but I just wanted to let you know that you might not have heard the last from me just yet."

Postscript

She sipped her tea as she re-read the final after action report on the Russian arms case out in L.A. She'd been considering a move back to Los Angeles, and familiarity with the ongoing cases there might prove helpful. She had found herself intrigued by the young attorney who'd managed to maintain a cover and survive amid violent criminals, and for fun she'd asked her technical operator to provide more information on him. His past turned out to be much darker than she'd expected, and more intriguing. And now he'd applied to LAPD. She'd definitely want to keep an eye on his progress. One never knew when such interesting people might come in handy.

A/N: I actually think it's possible Hetty followed Deeks from when he was 11 years old, that maybe she heard a story in the news that made her curious. I also like to think Hetty knew of Kensi from when she was very young- she did know Tuhon, after all, who knew Kensi's father (who also knew Granger). Small world.

I figured if a Gregory Peck-inspired name was good enough for Mama Deeks, it was plenty good enough for me, so I named Joe after the lead character in my favorite Gregory Peck movie, Roman Holiday.

By the way, the flashback to Deeks and Joe's conversation was first written here for this story, but was first published in my one-shot "Deciding on Destiny," for wikiDeeks' never-ending attempts to encourage the showrunners to write a "Deeks, M." episode. Thanks to Lindy AKA Sweet Lu for her edits and suggestions on that one-shot.

Anyway, there you have it. I began the story with a quote from Shakespeare about how our past doesn't necessarily define us. I think one of the things that makes Deeks such a fascinating character is how his past seems to absolutely have created the man we see now, and his past absolutely accounts for the choices he made along the way. But at the same time, that same past could have created an entirely different man, maybe one with a much darker and uglier life, except that Deeks fought against that alternate fate. He worked hard to determine his own destiny. It's one of the things I admire about him. I hope this story has explored that push and pull of past and future in a way that you enjoyed. I'd love to hear your final thoughts on it!

Thanks to all who have already reviewed, followed and favorited. Your encouragement means more than you can imagine.