TIRED
A/N: Well, here it is—Chapter Two. I really hope that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just want to say, first, that I kind of altered how I wanted to do this originally. So, what this means is that the excerpt that tagged onto the end of the last chapter actually becomes a glimpse into Chapter three, instead of Chapter Two. So Sorry. And I just want to thank all you who commented, reviewed, favorited, and followed thus far. It's been real encouraging to see the response this story is getting and rather quickly too.
P.S. A big shout out goes to JerichoSteele – We appreciate your service. - Semper Fi
-Thanks, FeRnLoVeR
Chapter Two
We turn back now to our story, and a rather unwelcome conversation…
"I hope you don't have any plans for this weekend, Detective." Granger stated, as the Detective took up the offered seat just opposite the tiny operations manager.
"Actually, now that you mention it. I do have plans. Why?" The Blonde Detective delivered in the way only he could, and to his great pleasure it seemed to have rubbed the Assistant Director in a most unpleasant way.
Owen Granger's expression showed discontent for naught but a second, before it morphed into an eerie smirk that left Deeks feeling slightly uneasy—which wasn't an easy feat to manage by any means.
Though he had told the truth, and he did, in fact, have plans for the coming weekend. And not that he was willing to share them with the Assistant Director of NCIS or anything, but those plans did include some alone time with his gorgeous partner and best friend.
Things between he and Kensi had been, well, shall we say 'tense' ever since the whole Sidarov fiasco was resolved nearly 7 months ago. Sure, they still hung out with their usual 'Movie and Chinese Take-out' nights, they still went out for drinks, and even surfed together on the weekends sometimes, much as they had done in the past. However, it just wasn't quite the same as it had been before the torture. There was no great mystery as to why things had changed either. They both knew the answer, and it was a subject that they'd left untouched for far too long.
It was the kiss. The kiss they'd shared atop the hill overlooking Sidarov's private casa had changed everything. Yet two things had happened immediately following said kiss that further changed the dynamic that was Kensi & Deeks, and it was these two things that ultimately caused their 'thing' to fall into a sort of limbo afterwards. But that was to be no more.
They were both tired, oh so tired, of their constant dance around 'what could be' if only one of them had the courage to make that first move and step into the yet unknown that existed between them. Both Kensi and Deeks knew that their feelings for each other went far beyond that of just being 'partners' and 'friends', and up until recently neither really knew exactly what to do about it.
So together, they decided that what they needed was to just get away from everything and everyone, just for the weekend, and just talk. The chance to talk without interruption or distraction was something they'd not had, and were in desperate need of. It would be a chance to finally clear the air, and lay all of their cards upon the table for each other to see for perhaps the very first time. It was to be a chance at the happiness they both so deserved.
A sound like someone had cleared their throat stirred the Detective from his silent reverie, and with a shake of his blonde locks, to clear the dense fog from his brain, he lifted his eyes from where they'd fallen to gaze mindlessly at the floor near his feet. He looked, first to Hetty, and then to Granger in an effort to decide who it was that had so unceremoniously summoned him back from the realm of deep thought- into which he'd previously settled so effortlessly only moments before.
"Your plans, Detective." Granger said, in that low voice that would set anyone on edge upon hearing it. "Might wanna cancel them. Indefinitely." His tone remained indifferent.
"Come again?" Deeks shifted uneasily in his seat, and flashed that slightly crooked grin that was reserved for only those rare occasions in which he felt most nervous. One look at Hetty, and the seasoned Detective knew he wasn't going to like what came next.
Hetty took the opportunity to slide an otherwise unassuming looking manila folder across the oaken desktop until it came to rest just inches from the liaison officer's finger tips. The slight hesitation in her movements did not go unnoticed by the shaggy-haired surfer cop, and the unease he saw in her body language only served to further heighten his already growing anxiety.
His pacific blue eyes gazed unflinchingly at the simple object set before them, its implications far from lost on him, and the only thought his mind could muster, at the sight of the oh so obvious L.A.P.D. scrawl that covered the front tab, was a resounding 'Damn you Bates'.
His plans for the weekend were not such as to be easily broken, nor did he particularly wish to break them, but to do so meant the potential existed to actually lose the one person he cared most about in the world.
The Detective leaned forward, slowly, and placed the fingers, of first his right hand, and then of course those of his left upon the very edge of the ominous manila folder. He carefully slid it across the desk top back to the place from whence it came, and shook his head as he did so for further emphasis.
"Hetty—no. I-I can't." It came out almost as a whisper, and he had to swallow back a hard lump in the process as he carefully studied the petite woman's reaction in turn. "These plans I have, for the weekend, I can't just—what I mean is they're…" he had to pause a moment, eyes closed and his sentence left to trail off awkwardly and without resolution, as he desperately needed a second to collect his thoughts and form an explanation that wouldn't reveal so much as to potentially jeopardize his own personal mission.
Too much had already been allowed to come between himself and the woman he loved, and he wasn't about to let something else hinder their progress—not without a fight at least anyway.
"Hetty." Deeks said at last, and their eyes met at once as her name passed, with a slight quiver, over his lips. "This can wait. She can't." he made sure, as he spoke, to place the proper emphasis where he knew it would be most effective to his cause.
At first, Hetty appeared to accept it, as she simply gave him a nod of what he could only describe as understanding, but then she did something that made his whole heart suddenly sink deep within his chest. With a great heaved sigh she began to push the manila folder back towards him with firm, albeit reluctant, intent.
"Mr. Deeks, I understand your fervent commitment regarding your 'weekend plans', and I applaud it. Really, I do. However, regretfully, it was your pending 'Agent' status with NCIS that made it rather difficult to talk our way out of this one." Hetty stated firmly. A grim look of apology colored her features just before the tiny woman shot a crossways look at the silent Assistant Director.
Deeks could almost feel the smirk on Granger's face in that moment. He knew, well had always known, that the Assistant Director's opinion of him wasn't very high. He also knew that this was something that wasn't likely to change at any time in the near future. This was just another way for the older man to delay his entrance into an agency which he felt the shaggy-haired surfer could never truly belong. Though to say he could care less about the Assistant Director and his opinions, would be a drastic overstatement.
The soon-to-be Ex-Detective let go of a long, ragged sigh, and at last accepted the manila folder from the hands of the aging operations manager. "It's fine, Hetty. I get it. You did what you could, and when your hands are tied. Well, that's that I suppose." Deeks replied, in a dejected manner.
Hetty sat in silence for a long beat, and carefully studied the disheartened-looking man who sat before her. How she longed for the day when the usually effervescent young man would no longer have to be torn between two loyalties.
"So, what's the case this time?" Deeks asked, as he fully pulled the case folder to himself and stared at the tiny notes scribbled here and there upon its front cover. He mindlessly thumbed at a raised section of the folder's lower-right corner as he waited for Hetty's reply.
Instead, however, it was Granger who decided to speak up first. "Understand, Detective. This is a deep-cover assignment which, if successful, benefits not only the L.A.P.D.-but NCIS as well."
The defeated-looking Detective let out another sigh, and ran a hand through his shaggy, blonde locks while giving careful consideration to the Assistant Director's words. In his experience with undercover work over the years, the term 'deep-cover' usually meant prolonged or extended by days, weeks, hell, even months sometimes that had the potential of becoming years spent away or outside one's normal life. This knowledge only made his heart feel heavier, as any extended period of time apart from his partner could render their 'thing' salvageable. This he simply could not bear.
Deeks sat forward in his seat then, and numbly flipped open the front cover of the manila folder. He let his eyes fall upon the contents contained therein, and allowed them to briefly skim over the preliminary case report, which was stapled rather haphazardly to the folders' inside cover.
Hetty cleared her throat after some minutes had passed, and effectively drew the somber-faced Detective's attention away from his own clearly dreary thoughts, and back onto herself instead.
"How long?" Deeks asked, with a sigh, as he looked directly into the piercing eyes of the tiny operations manager who sat across from him. "How long will I be under?" he clarified, rephrasing his previous question.
"That, Mr. Deeks, is unknowable—and completely dependent upon how expediently you reach a suitable conclusion for this case." Hetty replied, in an attempt to garner at least some hope in her pending Agent.
"Could be a month—maybe two." Granger interjected then, and Deeks did not need to see his face to know that the older man was, at the moment, enjoying himself. "Perhaps longer. It all depends."
Great. Just fucking great. There was no way in hell he could possibly expect, or even ask, Kensi to wait that long for him to come back. She didn't deserve that. No, she deserved so much better. Better than him.
"Fine. Whatever. So, again, what or who are we dealing with this time around?" he figured he might as well ask the next most obvious question.
"Two weeks ago, Corporal Craig Myers disappeared from his post at Camp Lejeune. He was assigned as part of a two man crew tasked with guarding a high-level weapons repository, located on base, which contained several crates set to be re-located at the end of this month." Granger explained, as he leaned forward a bit more in Deeks' direction.
It didn't take a genius to see where Granger's story was headed, but Deeks opted to remain silent and let the Assistant Director continue uninterrupted.
"At first, everyone thought that Myers had simply gone AWOL." Hetty said, and effectively injected herself into the conversation.
Granger nodded. "Accept…now we know better."
"Indeed. Later inspection of the repository's contents revealed that two, of what was originally 5, marked crates are now missing as well." The operations manager leaned forward, hands folded and placed just so atop the desk before her, as she continued on with her case briefing.
Deeks decided to speak up at this point. He figured it couldn't really hurt at this point. "I assume we're all thinking this Corporal Myers guy had something to do with the missing crates. Correct?"
"Correct, Mr. Deeks. And if you were to assume, also, that Corporal Myers had recently resurfaced—then you would be correct in that as well."
"And if I were to assume that he resurfaced here in L.A.?" Deeks questioned.
"Once again—correct."
The seasoned Detective flipped over to the next page of the dossier that set before on the oaken desktop, and immediately felt himself cringe inwardly as his eyes fell upon the violent depictions portrayed in the myriad of photographs displayed before him. They were the kinds of things that one only hoped existed just in silver screen horror films.
"Not sure what it is I'm looking at now, but I gotta say, at this point—I wish I hadn't." Deeks remarked, and averted his eyes, briefly, from the opened page.
Granger reached over then, and slid some of the enclosed photographs around until at last he came upon one in particular that he proceeded to move to the top of said pile. "This man here…is Diego Alvarez. He's a real ruthless son-of-a-bitch who's in town looking to make a name for himself as the new head of the Los Santos drug cartel—originally based out of Baja and headed, until recently, by Juan DeSantos."
"I'm guessing that something happened to, uh, Mr. DeSantos."
"He died." Granger stated plainly, as if it were no big thing at all. "Last week, actually. Massive heart attack—probably had it coming in the long run." Granger didn't pause for much longer than a few seconds, before he picked up his story where he'd left off just moments earlier.
"For the past week, since DeSantos' death, one of his top enforcers, a man by the name of Enrique Rodrigo, has been holding the reigns of DeSantos' empire. According to intel gathered by our friends over at the DEA, Rodrigo is supposed to wait until the former leaders' son, Marco, reaches L.A. at which time he will most likely take over his father's drug empire. Now, several major players in the L.A. area, Alvarez included, have positioned themselves to make a grab for DeSantos' empire."
"This is all very fascinating, sir. But, if I may be so bold, how does Corporal Myers and the missing weapons crates figure into all of this?" Deeks asked, though something deep inside told him he wasn't going to very much like the answer he got.
"Patience is a virtue, my dear Mr. Deeks. An anonymous tip submitted to L.A.P.D. just three days ago identified a man, matching Corporal Myers' description, who was abducted from a street corner just outside the Beggar's Inn motel in downtown L.A." Hetty supplied.
"I know the place. It's a popular stop-in for out of town surfers on their way in, and drifters on their way out." Deeks commented, as he recalled taking part in a sting Op there during his early days with L.A.P.D. Deeks appeared thoughtful for a moment, but then quickly shook his head and returned his gaze to Hetty.
"Quite. The anonymous tipper also managed to identify a tattoo worn by one of the assailants as belonging to that of Diego Alvarez's crew. Early this morning, Corporal Myers' body was discovered in a construction site not far from where he was abducted." As Hetty conveyed this little bit of information, Deeks shuffled a single finger through the small clutter of photographs until one in particular caught his eye.
Picking the photograph up, Deeks cringed visibly, and a pained expression crossed his scruffy features. The sight of the horribly mutilated body depicted in the photograph brought on an uncontrollable flood of memories from his torture at the hands of the sadistic Isaak Sidarov, and this caused the Detective a considerable amount of discomfort. He had to shake his head once and then twice just so that he could see straight, let alone be able to think clearly again.
Hetty noticed her Detective's reaction to the photograph, and she knew then that this case would be extremely difficult for him, and even if he did succeed and if he did make it out alive—he would be undoubtedly changed forever.
"G-Geez, this guy looks like he went through hell before he died." Deeks finally managed, as he averted his eyes to avoid looking at the horribly violent depiction in the photograph. He quickly stuffed it back into the folder, and tried to quickly school his features.
"The gist of this is," Granger said at last, straightening in his seat. "Without someone on the inside of this, there's no way for us to know whether or not Myers has given up the crates. And if he hasn't given them up, then we need to find them before Diego Alvarez does."
"And that's where I come in, huh?" Deeks questioned quietly.
"We need someone who is cold, calculating, and not afraid to cross the line, if need be, and someone who has no shortage of seedy connections." Granger's face seemed to light up in an almost eerie way as he spoke then, and Deeks couldn't help but envision one person and one person alone—Max Gentry.
Oh what a sheer nightmare this was turning out to be.
…TBC…
…Stay Tuned For Scenes From Our Next Episode…
Excerpt from Chapter Three—
In the Firing Range…
They stood just feet apart, engulfed by deafening silence, while his words hung over them like an ominous black cloud. Then it was Kensi who finally broke the silence.
"So, what's your cover then?" she asked, as if she hadn't already figured it out. Her voice was thick with the emotions that stirred deep within her fragile heart, and she utterly dreaded the heart-wrenching answer she knew would come from his lips.
She waited patiently, and watched as her partner shifted uneasily before her clearly uncomfortable with his own thoughts at that particular moment.
"Kens, I think you already know the answer." he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. He chose instead to point his own gaze at a spot on the floor near his feet. He just could not help thinking that this time he might actually hurt the one person he cared about more than anything else. This was, after all, an alias whose name was synonymous with heartache and sorrow.
Her bottom lip quivered, but only slightly, and she willed herself not to cry as she finally uttered the vile name which she had come to loathe almost as much as she knew her partner did. "Gentry."
Deeks only nodded in return, and Kensi suddenly felt her heart sink within her chest.
...Please, join me next time won't you... :) :) :) :) :) :)
A/N: As you guys probably noticed, this chapter was mostly just a bunch of exposition. I would just like to say, however, that this was/is a necessary chapter in the overall plot of the story. Thanks again everyone! P.S. Also, the next chapter could possibly have some seriously heavy 'Densiness' if you know what I mean (wink wink) :) :) :)