AN: This took a lot longer than I anticipated, because Whiting was so damned hard for me to write. True to character, she was being very uncooperative.
Spoilers: Up to and including Payback (8x15). It's AU after that, since I assume Deeks has not yet told Kensi about his confession (still waiting to be proven wrong about that, PTB!).
Disclaimer: I put in a bid to buy NCIS: LA, but until I hear back, let's assume I don't own it and I'm not making any money from this.
Kensi hesitated outside the door. She knew she shouldn't be here, but she'd already made the drive across town on a Saturday morning and had her arms full of what she hoped were appropriate provisions. Reminding herself of the reason for this trip, Kensi steeled herself mentally for what she needed to do, stood up straighter, pulled back her shoulders, put a what she hoped was a warm smile on her face, and rang the doorbell.
Less than twenty seconds later she spied a faint rustling of the curtain that covered an adjacent window and knew that now was the make it or break it moment. She wondered if the door would open or if the occupant was slowly creeping away, hoping Kensi would go away.
She didn't know if she was surprised or not when she heard the deadbolt being drawn back and saw the knob turn before the door opened as far as a chain lock would allow.
"I can't say I thought I would ever see you on my doorstep," were Detective Ellen Whiting's first words, delivered in her usual humorless tone.
"That makes two of us." Kensi came here to have an honest talk with the woman (okay, as honest as she could be under the circumstances). She may as well start now.
"Are you armed?"
"Only because it's required. My service weapon is at my back. I left the backup and my knife at home. I promise not to draw on you if you'll do the same." She smiled slightly, "Besides, if I'd wanted you dead, I could have easily gone to the hospital and done the job there."
Kensi figured she shouldn't have gone for the joke when Whiting closed the door in her face. Two seconds later, though, she heard the head of the chain sliding through its channel and falling against the doorframe. The door opened fully another few moments later and Whiting took a step back to allow Kensi entry into her apartment.
Stepping over the threshold, Kensi was surprised by the warm and inviting décor of the living room and kitchen as she quickly scanned them. They were definitely more feminine than Kensi had envisioned. Kensi also noticed evidence of Whiting's nine-year-old daughter: pictures of and by her on the walls and shelves, a backpack by the door, what looked like a chore chart hanging on the wall dividing the two rooms.
She would not have guessed this apartment housed the cold sternness she associated with the detective. But neither did the wavy hair that currently hung past her shoulders or the t-shirt, jeans, and flipflops the now attractive woman was wearing. Kensi hoped it was a good sign that she and Whiting could probably share a wardrobe and hair styling tips.
"You planning to poison me instead?" Whiting asked, looking at the items Kensi was holding in one hand and balanced on the bend of her arm: two six-packs of Yoo-hoo.
"Uh, no. But I did some research and found out this is a guilty pleasure." Not sure the woman fully believed her, Kensi sighed and volunteered, "Pick one, any one, and I'll drink it first. Really, Detective, I'm just here to talk."
Kensi took the carton that had been resting on her arm and against her chest and held it out. When Whiting accepted it and turned toward the kitchen, Kensi followed her from the living room. The gift bag that had been hanging in the crook of her arm slid down to her wrist.
Whiting opened the fridge and put the bottles in. "I'd offer you one, but they have to be –"
"Cold, and not with ice." Kensi completed the thought with a grin. "I got these from the refrigerated section, ready to drink." She put the second pack on the island between them.
As Whiting pulled two bottles from their sleeves and slowly shook them, Kensi put the bag on the counter and explained, "I know what it's like to have a scar in a hard-to-hide place." She touched left side of her neck, where her own fading mark could still be seen, a memento of her time under a helicopter in Syria. "So I brought you a jar of cream that I use several times a day. It doesn't do much for the scar itself, more for the dryness and itching, which helps the wound heal more cleanly. Also, some scarves. My mother actually bought them for me, but it turned out I never really left the house except to go to rehab, so I didn't need them. I figure you'll be going back to work soon, maybe you can use them."
Kensi reached into the bag and pulled out one last item. "And most important, a bottle of your favorite Moscato. I didn't know if you were on any kind of pain meds, so I didn't bring this chilled."
"Probably not a good idea for two armed people on opposite sides of a murder investigation to be drinking alcohol together, anyway," Whiting said flatly.
"Good point," Kensi acknowledged.
"You do all this research in that high-tech room upstairs in your super-secret lair?" The detective placed both well-shaken bottles on the island in front of her but made no move to offer one to the agent.
Kensi nodded. "Wasn't difficult with all that equipment to find out where you shop regularly and what you buy." Kensi pursed her lips in consideration of the other woman. "I have to say I wasn't expecting the sweet tooth…Yoo-hoo, Moscato." Kensi tried a small smile again, "I prefer my sugar in the form of Twinkies, doughnuts, and ice cream. And pretty much any kind of chocolate." She shrugged, "But to each her own, I guess."
"What makes you think the Yoo-hoo isn't my daughter's thing?"
"Pictures you've posted on social media. She drinks it, but you do too." Nodding at the full calendar that hung on the fridge, Kensi added, "I also learned this is your ex's weekend with your daughter. I wouldn't have come today, otherwise."
There was an awkward lull in what Kensi might generously call an uncomfortable conversation while the two studied each other. Ellen Whiting looked her up and down. Kensi was dressed in her typical weekend fare: a tee, shorts, and sneakers. The shorts were a deliberate choice because Kensi wanted the detective to see the scars on her leg from her surgery. She wanted as many commonalities between them as possible.
Despite her hair partially covering it, there was no hiding the bandage on the right side of Whiting's neck. Kensi knew Whiting spent more than two weeks in the hospital, much of that in critical condition. She'd been home for ten days now, and Kensi assumed she would be returning to work soon. So it was now or never if Kensi hoped to accomplish her task.
"You're going to have to do a lot better if you're trying to bribe me." Whiting stated blandly, finally breaking the silence.
Kensi laughed, "I work for the feds and you know exactly what Deeks makes. I'm sure we couldn't come close to that kind of money. But again, I only came here to talk. Not to bribe, not to kill."
"So talk." The detective slid one of the Yoo-hoos across the counter toward Kensi.
"Can I sit?" When Whiting merely nodded, Kensi pulled out one of the two stools that was tucked under her side of the island and sat. She opened the bottle and tipped it toward the detective in a silent toast before she took a sip of the chocolatey drink. Kensi savored the momentary return to childhood the flavor provided while she tried to figure out where to begin in the present. This had been much easier in her head and seemed like a better idea when she was at home.
Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. No turning back now, Kensi thought. "First, I want to apologize."
This seemed to surprise Whiting. "For what?"
"I feel partly responsible for you getting shot. If you hadn't been out there helping my team look for me, you wouldn't have been hurt."
Whiting shrugged as she opened her own bottle and took a pull from it. "I had my reasons for being there. If that abduction video was legitimate, I had no intention of letting someone be killed if I could do something about it. I may be in Internal Affairs, but I'm still a cop."
"Oh, it was legit. Guy that took me was a deranged CIA officer out for revenge."
"Against you or Deeks?"
Whiting's tone was acerbic, but Kensi ignored it. "Me. Apparently I shot his leg off a few years ago while he was hanging out with some undesirables when I was on assignment overseas. I didn't know he was CIA, or American for that matter," Kensi quickly added when she saw the look on the other woman's face.
"He brought a reciprocating saw to the party and wanted to cut my leg off as payback. Said he wasn't going to kill me, but I didn't see any first aid supplies, so I'm not sure how he was going to keep me from bleeding to death."
Kensi let that settle between them for a bit before moving on. "I understand that was a real concern for you, too. When you were shot."
"Bullet nicked my jugular vein," Whiting confirmed.
"You're lucky to be alive. I heard Deeks was instrumental in that."
Whiting arched an eyebrow in response. "I'll be sure to send him a thank-you note."
Not the answer I was hoping for. Okay then, Plan B. "I don't know if you're aware how I got my little souvenir here," she tapped her neck. "Or the IM rod in my femur," Kensi twisted on the stool and stuck out her right leg, showing off the scars on her thigh. "Last year we were on a mission and I ended up trapped under…a piece of heavy machinery." Kensi didn't go into specifics due to the classified nature of their operation, and assumed Whiting realized that.
"I was knocked out for a little while, and when I woke up, Deeks was there, putting out a nearby fire. The rest of my team showed up a minute or two later and tried to free me, but I was pretty well pinned. I remember that first attempt at getting me out, but nothing after that. Even though, according to Deeks, I was awake and talking for several more minutes before I finally lost consciousness for the long haul. He's told me all about it; says he'll remember every bit of it until the day he dies, but as hard as I try, there's just nothing in my memory. The doctors said it was probably from a combination of the trauma and the blood loss." Kensi met Whiting's eyes as she spoke her last sentence, hoping the woman would take the hint and tell her what she wanted to know.
When the detective continued her silent treatment, Kensi swallowed and plowed ahead. Let's hope the third time's the charm. "I'm sure you know, Deeks was shot several years ago. Took two to the chest. He remembers everything leading up to and including the first shot, and then even after that, as the guy took aim for the second. He suffered practically no memory loss, as it turned out." Kensi shrugged and added casually, "The mind can be unpredictable in what it chooses to remember, I guess."
Whiting smirked and, slowly shaking her head, finally spoke, "For someone who's a part of an elite team of highly skilled federal agents who routinely do undercover work, that was a pathetic attempt to find out whether or not I remember Detective Deeks' confession."
Now it was Kensi's turn to raise an eyebrow. "But it worked."
"And if that was the point of this whole exercise, you can run along and tell your fiancé that his luck has run out."
Kensi raised her left hand, devoid of any jewelry, "Nope, not my fiancé yet. And that's not the purpose of my visit. Deeks doesn't even know I'm here. But it does help me figure out what I'm up against."
"What you're up against, Agent Blye, is the knowledge that your partner, the man you apparently still plan to marry, is a murderer. I know it, you know it, and he admitted it to me. I hope you two tie the knot before he goes to prison, so you can at least get conjugal visits."
Kensi chose to overlook the personal comment, and took a breath to calm herself. She had to walk a very fine line here. Kensi needed to be careful not to further incriminate Deeks or herself, otherwise Whiting could use this conversation against both of them.
She changed the subject. "Have you or anyone at IAB spoken to Tiffany Williams yet?"
"I'm not going to talk to you about an ongoing investigation, Agent Blye. You should know better than that."
Kensi smiled slightly, "Thought it was worth a try. I already know what she's going to tell you, though. She doesn't know who killed Boyle, because she wasn't there. But she thinks it was John Quinn."
"Oh, alright then, thanks for saving me the time in interrogation. Case closed, I guess. So glad you came by." Whiting replied cynically. "Because the four hundred dollars a month your partner has been paying her almost nine years certainly doesn't make me wonder where her loyalties lie."
"So give her a lie detector test."
"I'm sure by now she probably believes that line of bull Deeks has paid for."
"She was a scared kid who had no future and no job prospects. Deeks helped her out; that's all. You heard a little about his father, you know he has a long history of helping women in a difficult spot."
"A long history of shooting abusive men, you mean."
"God! You twist everything around so that it fits your narrative." Kensi let her emotions slip.
"You seem to forget that we both know he killed Francis Boyle. My narrative is nothing more than the truth, Agent Blye."
"I know what Deeks told you when you had a bullet in your neck and you were bleeding out. But we also know that can easily be explained in court if the time comes."
"Really? He confessed to the murder of a cop, his partner no less, to the investigating officer."
"He told you what you wanted to hear, just like he promised he would, when he was frantic to find me. Didn't you think his choice of words was strange when you made that deal with him, Detective? He said he would tell you what you wanted to hear if you helped him find me. He didn't say it would be the truth."
"Nobody's going to believe he could be that deliberate in his choice of words when, as you just pointed out, he was so desperate to find you."
"He's a lawyer, that's how his mind works. He was leaving himself an out for when it came time to pay the piper."
"And why on earth would he confess to me? Oh wait, because he thought I was dying? So it was a noble act." Whiting laughed bitterly, "You have got to be kidding me."
"Is it really so hard to believe? He thought you were dying and he gave you what you wanted. Let you think you were right. Or maybe he said he killed Boyle to give you the motivation to live. That comes across as a pretty selfless act to me, considering you're standing here today and he now has an alleged confession to defend against as well."
"I don't buy it." Whiting crossed her arms in front of her.
"It doesn't matter what you buy, ultimately, does it? What matters is what a jury will believe, or better yet, what the DA thinks a jury will believe. And just think about this objectively for a second here. His California beach boy good looks, that sincere smile, the way he can charm just about anybody? He did it with all those hardened criminals you put in lockup with him, you know he can do it with a jury as well. All he'd need is for one person out of twelve to recognize that his intentions were pure when it came to his so-called confession, or when he was helping Tiffany financially. And all of your hard work would be for nothing."
Whiting was quiet again, but this time Kensi suspected it was because she was thinking about everything Kensi had just said. She gave the detective some more time before softly continuing. "Look, I know what you think Deeks did. But I'm willing to bet you also know enough about him that if you or your daughter were in trouble, Deeks would be one of the people you'd want on your side. He's a damned good cop and a damned good person, and I think you know that."
"That doesn't mean he should be allowed to get away with murder."
"Then ask yourself this: in the grand scheme of things, is the public safer with Deeks in prison or out on the streets doing his job?"
"That's not the point. He murdered a cop! Up until a few years ago, people got the death penalty for that. And you think I should just ignore all of the evidence and a confession because he's a nice guy? Wow, Agent Blye, love really is blind."
"I think that whoever did kill Boyle probably did the city, and IA, a favor. Francis Boyle was a dirty cop who never should have had a badge. He abused his authority, used unnecessary force against suspects, beat underaged and defenseless girls whose only crime was prostitution, put a gun in his own partner's mouth, and stole weapons and drugs from busts to sell them to other criminals. Not to mention the cache of money he was collecting from busts as well."
"The system has ways to deal with people like Boyle. No one had the right to kill him in cold blood."
"And yet 'the system' and LAPD repeatedly failed when it came to Boyle, and Steadman for that matter. Deeks tried to stop Boyle by using the system. And what happened? Nothing. Oh, wait, Deeks got reassigned to the undercover unit. You know what happened to Steadman's new partner? She was killed after six months with him."
"So Deeks killed Boyle to protect other cops, is that it? He'll never sell that as defense-of-another. It's still murder, and he still has to pay for it."
"You know that's not what I'm saying." Kensi took another breath. It was becoming obvious that Whiting wanted nothing more than to put Deeks in a cage for murder. "Look, I'm not going to argue with you anymore – "
"Will wonders never cease!" Whiting exclaimed.
"Or try to get you to listen to reason." Kensi had to school her features to keep from glaring at the other woman. "But I do want to leave you with two more things to think about." Kensi waited until the detective met her eyes before continuing, "First, Deeks had your life in his hands when you were shot. He could have let you bleed to death. Hell, anyone else in the same position probably would have. But he didn't. He did everything he could to save your life, and this was after he said what he did, knowing full well what it would mean for him if you survived."
Kensi got up from the stool and started walking toward the door. She turned when she reached it. "Second, Deeks is human. He's done, or not done, things he regrets. Just like I have, and like I'm sure you have too. We don't get out of these careers with clean consciences. But he suffers for it. Some nights he wakes up screaming from nightmares about them. And I can tell you that he has never had a nightmare about Boyle. Take that for what it's worth to you."
Whiting countered calmly, and confidently, "All that tells me is that he doesn't feel any remorse for murdering a fellow cop."
"Maybe it should tell you he has nothing to feel remorseful about." Kensi opened the door and left.
When she arrived home, Kensi could see Deeks and Monty on the back stoop. He was combing out the dog's coat after a morning spent at the beach, and from the looks of them it had been a good time in the surf. Deeks' own hair was still wet, and Kensi wondered if he'd showered yet. She hoped not, because she loved the salty scent of the ocean on him.
Kensi tossed a wave at Deeks when he heard her come in the house. She headed straight for the kitchen, both for a couple of beers, and to delay talking to Deeks for a few more minutes. She was frustrated with the outcome of her visit to Whiting. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but this wasn't it. She'd hoped against hope the detective would decide it wasn't worth it to pursue a murder charge against Deeks anymore, but saw now how naïve that had been. For every point Kensi made, Whiting had a counterpoint. Worse, Whiting had the facts on her side, if not the truth.
Whiting had been right about one thing, though. It was good that they didn't open that bottle of wine. They might have come to blows had either one of them been even slightly impaired or lacking in judgment.
Popping the caps off the bottles, Kensi made her way to the back door.
"Hey," Deeks greeted her with a kiss when she sat down next to him and then returned his attention to Monty, who was enjoying the brush-down. "Good time shopping with Nell?"
She'd told Deeks that Nell had asked her to help shop for a baby shower gift for a cousin back east. Kensi inhaled deeply, preparing for the talk to come. She could smell her favorite body wash on her freshly showered boyfriend, maybe her third favorite scent on him. She hadn't told Deeks about her plans to speak with Whiting because she knew they would only argue about it. He would have told her it was a bad idea, and either asked or demanded that she not go, and she would have done it anyway. In this case, Kensi figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
"I actually didn't meet up with Nell."
Deeks turned his head to look at her, the question in his eyes.
"I went to Detective Whiting's apartment, to try to talk her out of continuing her investigation into you."
"You did what?" Deeks stood up so quickly he stepped on Monty's tail. The dog yelped and jerked away as soon as his human moved his foot again, but Deeks didn't seem to notice the dog's distress.
Kensi knew he wasn't looking for her to repeat her statement, so she just continued to meet his stunned gaze.
He paced away from her and back again while Monty moved to her other side, keeping out of Deeks' way. "Kensi! What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if she recorded the conversation?"
"I was thinking that I couldn't just stand by and watch you go to prison without doing something –"
"Kens, that was –"
"No, let me finish. You asked a couple of questions. At least let me answer them before you lay into me about this." Kensi waited until Deeks nodded his agreement before speaking again. "As for her recording the discussion, she didn't know I was going to show up at her door uninvited, so I really don't think we have to worry about that. And even if she did, I was very careful about what I said and how I said it, Deeks. I may not have a law degree, but I know enough to avoid saying anything that would cause you problems."
Deeks ran his hand though his hair and it settled on the back of his neck as he huffed out a breath. "I'm not worried about me, baby. If you implicated yourself, you could be charged as an accessory after the fact and with obstructing justice."
"Well, I'm worried about you, and apparently one of us needs to be." She held out a hand to him, and when he took it, Kensi tugged so that Deeks would rejoin her on the stoop. She put an arm under his and linked their fingers together. "I'll tell you everything that was discussed if you want, but I can promise that whenever the topic of your confession came up, I said something like, 'What Deeks said.' I never once implied that I already knew."
His head fell into his other hand as Deeks let out a beleaguered sigh. "You told her about my confession?"
"Sweetie, I know you're not thinking straight right now because I just dumped this on you, but give me some credit here. Of course I didn't. But I got her to tell me that she remembers it. Which was one of the reasons I went there. At least now we know what to prepare for."
They spent the next hour reviewing and rehashing what Kensi and Whiting talked about; from Kensi's exact words to the detective's verbal and nonverbal responses. Kensi admitted to being particularly pleased with herself that she never once refuted that Deeks killed Boyle. Rather, she consistently denied that he had murdered the man, and figured the legal distinction between the two definitions would protect her from an obstruction charge. In the end, Deeks agreed that Kensi probably hadn't done any damage to either of them, but he still wasn't happy.
"Baby, you've got to promise me you will never do anything like that again. I know you meant well, but it was a potentially incredibly stupid move."
"You say stupid move, I say calculated risk. Kind of like when you confessed, don't you think?" Kensi's voice lacked recrimination, but her look dared him to contradict her.
"Right. And look how awesome that turned out." Deeks sadly reminded her.
Wednesday after dinner, Kensi and Deeks hooked Monty up to his leash for an evening walk. Opening the door, they were both startled to find Detective Whiting there, obviously about to ring the bell.
"Detective Deeks, Agent Blye," was all she said.
Kensi got over her stupor first, stepping in front of Deeks. "Detective," she said warily, as she looked beyond the interloper to check for the presence of patrol cars. Certainly she wouldn't come here alone to arrest Deeks.
Whiting held up her hands, revealing them to be empty. "No warrant. I'm not here to make an arrest. Just to talk." With her last words, Whiting met Kensi's eyes.
Kensi, for her part, wouldn't move until she knew what Deeks' play was going to be. He didn't keep her waiting long. She felt him step back just as he said, "Come in."
Kensi moved out of the doorway and watched as Whiting stepped inside and walked a few feet past her. She didn't seem to be wearing a gun at her back or leg from what Kensi could ascertain. She assumed it was in her shoulder bag, since the detective wasn't wearing a jacket of any kind. Despite Whiting's claim that she was there only to talk, Kensi was glad she and Deeks were both armed. She now appreciated how the other woman must have felt when Kensi showed up at her home out of the blue.
Deeks, further in the living room already, invited the detective to have a seat as Kensi approached his side and placed her hand on his lower back. The gesture was one of support and defense; she would be able to grab his gun before he could.
"I won't be here long enough for pleasantries, Deeks," she said blandly. "I have a proposition for you."
His eyebrows rose. "I thought we talked about this already, Kensi would not make a very good sister-wife." Deeks felt Kensi's short nails dig into his back. "Sorry," he said with a small smirk. "Please continue," Deeks encouraged, unable to keep the curiosity from his tone.
"Agent Blye here, despite her best efforts, was unable to convince me to drop the charges against you. But she did make a compelling case for the likelihood that if I am able to bring you to trial, chances are about even that you'd be acquitted."
"Better than that, I'd say," Deeks interjected confidently. "You've seen these pearly whites, haven't you?"
"Deeks," Kensi gently chastised him.
"Regardless, I'm sure it's a chance neither of us wants to take. So I'm willing to recommend that the DA drop the charges for lack of evidence, assuming Tiffany Williams doesn't implicate you when I speak to her next week. I will consider your statement to me after I was shot as a kindness, or even a hallucination, and I will not report it. In return, you will resign from LAPD with the stipulation that you never seek employment as a police officer or detective in any other jurisdiction in the country. I won't dump my mess in someone else's front yard. You won't be my problem anymore, and you can probably get a real job with NCIS. I have a feeling that boss of yours knows the truth, and frankly, she deserves you if her idea of supporting her people is leaving dead bodies all over their property."
"What assurance would I have that you won't come after me again one day, when you're bucking for a promotion, maybe? Or that this isn't a set up?" He directed himself toward the purse that hung from Whiting's shoulder and spoke louder, "Even a first-year law student would recognize this as entrapment."
"No guarantee. You'll just have to take my word for it. But the second option might be more appealing to you."
"I get a door number two? Wow, what did I ever do to get so lucky?" Deeks asked sarcastically.
Whiting didn't rise to the bait, for which Kensi was grateful. She was more than stunned that the detective was here and willing to put aside her desire to send Deeks to prison. But it wouldn't come without a cost, apparently. Despite their previous discussions about leaving law enforcement one day, the first option would not sit well with Deeks. Kensi could only hope the second was more palatable.
"I do want that promotion one day Deeks, but Boyle had a bad enough reputation with the higher-ups that finding his killer probably won't do that for me, even if it is another cop. So your other choice is to help me land a bigger fish."
"So, what, you're like the Equalizer or something? You help me today, you call on me to help you at some point in the future and I can't say no? Or is that like the mob?"
"Oh no, this is an immediate job. IA has suspected for some time that we have at least one cop in bed with the Molina cartel. You help me identify, build a case against, and get a conviction on whoever it is, and this all goes away for good. I get my promotion and you get to keep your badge. Hell, you'd probably get promoted too."
"If he doesn't get killed in the process," Kensi felt the need to add.
Deeks didn't respond.
"No smart-ass reply, Deeks? Of course, if we do this, you'd have to be arrested for Boyle's murder again to establish your own bad-boy credentials, and we might need to 'discover' some new evidence that would make you attractive to this dirty cop and Molina. But that would all come out as a cover in the end."
"Do you have any idea who it is? The cop in bed with Molina?" Deeks was all business now.
"It may be more than one. We have a list of potentials, so you wouldn't be starting from scratch. But we're not talking a short-term operation here either." Whiting reached into her bag and Kensi had her hand on Deeks' gun before the detective pulled out a cell phone. Deeks hadn't even flinched.
Passing it to Deeks, Whiting said, "I have the other burner. The number's programmed already. You have until Sunday night. I go back to work Monday morning, and if I don't hear from you, my first stop is to the DA to tell him about your confession." With that, she turned and left.
Kensi and Deeks let out their breaths slowly and stared at each other for several heartbeats before making their way over to the couch.
"God, Deeks, I'm so sorry." Kensi groaned, her head in her hands.
"What for? She just offered me a way out. Two, in fact."
"Sure, so you get to pick between the lesser of three evils."
"But now there's a choice, Kens. That's what's important."
"You would actually consider one of those options, Deeks? One results in you losing your badge and the other may end with you losing your life."
"Either one or both of those things could happen if I'm found guilty of murder, Kens. Or if I plead to a lesser charge." Kensi looked alarmed at the thought of Deeks taking a plea deal. "I know what you and I have said to Whiting, but juries are notoriously unpredictable, baby. I'd like to avoid taking this to trial if possible."
Kensi imperceptibly nodded her understanding, still in shock at the turn not only in their night, but in their lives.
They sat quietly for a while before Deeks took Kensi's hand and stood, pulling her along. "Come on partner, let's take Monty for that walk. We've got a lot of talking to do and a big decision to make."
The end.
AN: I'm marking this complete. It may seem like a cliffhanger, but really it's not…you know what Deeks would choose. I know what I would have him choose, and I may continue to this tale as its own story, but I make no promises. Honestly, I don't know if I'm the person to do it; major undercover plots are way too complicated for me to write, I think.
I'm pretty sure the inspiration for one of Whiting's offers came from a discussion with Max and Fern 4Ever, who has a wicked mind, in the best possible way. More props to her and sassyzazzi for their help in nailing down some background facts I was foggy on.