Life, Lies and Video Surveillance
By Cortexikid
Chapter 32: Conniption (Part II)
A/N: Thanks for all your reviews guys, you're the best readers/reviewers ever :D
DEDICATED TO: The wonderful ImpactedJudgement :D
Disclaimer: NCIS: LA isn't mine. I will ask Santa for it for Christmas but...I seriously doubt I'll find the rights to it in my stocking this year or any year for that matter. Le sigh. But it would be nice to find Deeks in my stocking lol :P
WOTD: CONNIPTION; con·nip·tion noun. A fit of rage or hysterics.
"So I wouldn't be breaking any rules if I kissed you right now?"
Deeks' heart stopped. It actually stopped beating. It had to have done because he just died from shock. Never, did he ever, in the entire nearly four years he was Kensi Blye's partner believe those words would fall from her lips. Not outside his dreams anyway...
"I—what?" he gaped, struggling to wrap his mind around what she just said.
"You heard me Deeks," she murmured softly, turning slowly towards him, her eyes staring intently into his before she leaned forward ever so slightly, her lips an inch from his...
The blond's heart kick-started, thumping wildly in his chest as she stared at him, blinking as if waiting for him to stop her. When he didn't, her lips curled upward slightly as she took a deep breath and gently leaned in to close that last inch...
"Hey! Look who I found!" a voice called loudly from the doorway. The pair jumped in surprise, Kensi tilting back from Deeks quickly, hissing as her skin pulled roughly from under the bandage.
"Crap!" she gasped, her hand flying to her abdomen, a wince on her face.
"Whoa, hey, you okay?" Deeks asked, his eyes wide with alarm as Julia and Angela stepped through the door.
"I'm fine," she replied, her eyes rising to the two women, "nice to see you again, Angela," she said with a slightly pained smile.
"It's good to see you too honey," she smiled in return, rooting around in her large handbag and pulling out a bundle and handing it to her.
"I hear you're a fan of Oreos," she murmured, looking from Kensi to her son (who couldn't keep the 'what the hell, mom?!' expression off his face) and back again.
"Uh, yeah I am, thank you," Kensi replied a little unsurely, reaching out and taking the cookies.
"So, not interrupting anything are we? I was thinking that Marty and Angela could stay for dinner Kens, what do you think? Are you up to it?" Julia asked, already traipsing into the kitchen and unloading the shopping bags.
Kensi gaped at her mother through the open door, avoiding eye contact with her once ex-partner-now-sorta-new-partner. Slowly, she shifted her weight on the couch to a more comfortable position which just happened to be a little further away from Deeks and cleared her throat.
"Uh yeah sure that's—"
"I mean, I know it's a little late but, you're finally cleared to eat solid food and that's something we should celebrate, right? Angie, come in and sit down, I'll get you a glass of wine," Julia rambled as she began pulling out pots and pans from the kitchen cabinets.
Angela exchanged another glance with her son, her eyebrows raised in her signature 'okie dokie then' expression before turning on her heel and replying, "wine sounds good to me Jules."
Their two children sat motionless on the couch, watching as their mothers chatted animatedly.
"Jules?" Kensi mumbled.
"Angie?" Deeks echoed.
Darkness descended like a fog, a gloom enclosing, like a wall folding in on him, trapping him inside with nowhere to go. Silently, he gaped, unable to move any part of his body, his eyes frozen open in shock, he staring unblinkingly at his brother as he raised the gun to his temple.
"No! No, don't!" he wanted to scream, but all that came out was a squeak, no louder than a mouse.
A shot rang out, piercing the still night like the bullet pierced Kevin's flesh. His body crumpled like paper in the wind, collapsing onto the floor with a loud thud, blood pooling around his lifeless body.
Oliver gasped, still unable to move, speak, do or say anything, his eyes glued to his brother, his brother that was once so alight with energy, with joy, now dark, dimmed with cold and death.
He was gone...
With a jolt, Oliver Bradley awoke, his breathing rapid, his heart thumping in his ears. With a wince, he stretched his limbs, his bones cracking loudly in the otherwise quiet room.
It was the fifth time this week he'd snapped awake, having fallen asleep at his desk, sweating profusely and breathing heavily as if he'd just run a marathon. It was always the same dream, a memory really, of what Kevin had done five years ago. Ever since his ol' Navy buddy received that invitation in the mail, it was all he could think about. That and his plan. They consumed him like a virus that ate all his other thoughts up, his other basic needs like food and proper sleep being shoved to the back burner.
It wouldn't be long now. In less than 24 hours, he would get his revenge on the man that caused his brother's death...Captain Patrick Hart.
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"Seriously?"
"According to Callen and Sam, yeah," Eric Beale nodded as Nell Jones continued to gape at him.
"Deeks...an agent?" she asked, looking for clarification that she had indeed heard her partner correctly.
"Exactamundo," he clicked his fingers, spinning in his chair to face his computer.
"You are not the Fonz, Eric," the intelligence-analyst dead-panned before murmuring, "wow that's great!"
While momentarily disheartened that his partner was not impressed by his Henry Winkler impression, the tech-analyst found that he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.
"I know, it'll be great to have him and Kensi back at work," he agreed, chewing on the top of a pen, his face growing pensive as he thought about his friends.
"It'll be kinda weird though," Nell said suddenly, catching his attention.
He turned in his chair to face her.
"Why?"
The red-head shrugged, her nose wrinkling a little. Eric fought the little grin that wanted to creep out onto his face as he saw that.
"I don't know...I mean, Deeks has been a cop for what? Ten years? I just...it'll be weird to have him as an agent. Great, but different, I guess. I wonder what training he's—"
"Apparently Callen and Sam caught him getting his ass kicked by Hetty when doing Bok Fu," Eric cut across her, "there are pictures and everything."
"And why haven't I seen these pictures?"
"Because Hetty made Sam delete them..." Eric trailed off, turning back to his computer.
Nell very nearly pouted.
"But," her partner's eyebrow arched, "not before I managed to upload some to the server..." and with a click of a button, dozens of pictures popped up on his computer screen of Deeks (and some of Monroe) lying/sitting on the mat in the gym, looking a little...worse for wear.
Nell chuckled, shaking her head. Some things were worth staying in work a little late for.
"No matter who the opponent is, my money is always on Hetty."
Eric nodded, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"Mine too."
Robin Hart took a deep breath as she halted outside her father's study. It had been a long day. A three hour drive home, then being bombarded by friends and family members, not getting a moment's peace to herself the entire time. Now, all was quiet, most of her family, her mom, her elder sister and two nephews had retired to bed, her aunt and uncle in the guest house. It was just she and her father left still up, she in the sitting room, he in his study.
She'd barely since an inch of him all day. He was either busy talking with Uncle Joe or locked up in his study, no doubt going over his speech for tomorrow. What she did see of him, he looked better than she could have hoped, better than she expected. But that was her father. He would never let a thing like a brain tumor alter his usually pristine image – not when he had young minds to mold and impress.
Shaking her head to break through her rambling thoughts, she lifted her hand to knock softly on the door, knowing from experience that it was never good to just barge in – he hated when she did that. And she really didn't want to aggravate him, today of all days.
"Come in," his voice called after a moment.
Taking one last deep breath to steady her nerves, Robin turned the handle and opened the door, standing on the threshold.
"You're letting the heat out," he murmured distractedly, his eyes trained down on pieces of paper.
"Uh yeah, sorry," she stepped in, closing the door behind her with a quiet snap.
"I thought you'd gone to bed," he commented, still not looking at her.
"No I—I wanted to talk to you...before I turned in," she forced herself to say, her voice a little louder, more defined than before.
That caught his attention. Slowly, his dark eyes rose to try and meet her identical ones, but she was staring at the floor.
"Well, out with it then," he said, eyebrows arched as he waited.
A sliver of ice-cold fear dripped down her spine. Suddenly, she was frozen, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, her throat dry. No, no! She couldn't chicken out now, not after travelling all this way, not after all the talks she had with herself over the last few months. It was now or never. She had to do it now, before it was too late. She had to know if he supported her or not...
"Robin, what is it?" he asked, his eyes staring intently at his daughter who stood before him, motionless. His voice was a little softer this time, more inviting. Not incredibly so, but just enough for her to notice.
She raised her gaze to meet his, finding it not as hard as she thought to look him dead in the eye. She could do this, she could...
"Dad I—I just wanted you to know that I—I'm..." she trailed off, as she noticed he was no longer looking at her, seemingly distracted by something on the paper, taking up a pen and scribbling something.
She heaved a small, barely audible sigh.
Maybe it could wait until after the ceremony, when he wasn't so...preoccupied.
"I'm rooting for you tomorrow, I know you'll do great," she finished, the ache at keeping everything bottled up weighing heavily in her chest, "I—I just wanted you to know that..."
She watched with curious orbs as her father nodded, his gaze rapidly flying across the page he was now immersed in.
"Thank you Robin, I'll see you in the morning. Don't forget to wake your sister, you know she always sleeps through the alarm," he replied, his tone one of finality, still not looking at her.
She knew was that meant.
You're dismissed.
"What do you think they're talking about in there?" Deeks asked, his eyes trained on the now closed kitchen door, whispering to Kensi, sounding every bit of a paranoid conspiracy theorist.
"Why are you whispering?" Kensi asked lowly, forcing herself not to look at him but to keep her gaze on the TV.
"Because my mom has hearing as good as Hetty's," he continued to hiss under his breath, his eyes narrowed, his body tense, as if the door was going to burst open at any second.
"And you don't want her to overhear your top-secret spy plans?" she deadpanned with a roll of her eyes.
"No, I don't want her to hear what's probably going to be one of the most difficult conversations I've ever initiated," he replied cryptically.
Well, that was an attention grabber if she ever heard one.
A heavy sensation rose in her gut, her toes curling in anticipation.
"Kens—"
"Not here," she interrupted, shuffling forward on the couch and slowly rising, her arm wrapped around herself.
"What—"
"Bathroom. Now," she ordered, no room for argument before grabbing the front of his T-shirt with her other hand and pulling him up.
Deeks forced his feet to move, trudging along behind her, looking down at her fingers that were still clamped around his tee as she made her way down the corridor, her eyes staring straight ahead. When the bathroom came within sight, she halted, her hand unclenching from him and gesturing for him to step into the room. With raised eyebrows, he complied, his throat drying up a little as he felt her walk closely behind him. He caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and saw that she looked just as...anxious as he felt. This was it. This was the moment they had been avoiding the last three weeks.
"What's on your mind, Deeks?" she murmured, not able to look him in the eye, leaning back against the door, it closing with a soft snap.
He slowly turned on the spot, clasping his hands behind his back, trying (and failing) to slow his rapidly beating heart, staring at the beautiful brunette as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.
It was now or never.
Come on Deeks, spit it out!
"You were going to kiss me!" he exclaimed louder than he intended, a flush rising to his cheeks as he realized that all air of grace had escaped him.
Kensi's eyes rose from the floor to stare at him.
"Well," she shrugged, taking a step towards him, "you kissed me first."
Deeks' mouth dropped open. That was not the reply he was expecting. Frantically, he scrambled his brain to try and come up with a response.
"No," he shook his head, taking a step towards her, "you kissed me at the hospital. I just put it down to all the drugs you were on so—"
"You kissed me before that."
Those five words stopped him dead in his tracks. Wordlessly, he gaped at her, his heart practically going into cardiac arrest.
So she did know...oh god...
"I...I heard what you said...the night I was shot," her voice had lowered to barely above a whisper as she halted, barely a foot from him, arms still wrapped protectively around herself.
Deeks still couldn't find the words.
"You said that...I mean more to you than you could ever tell me but you wanted to try one day," she paused biting her lip, her brow furrowing as she struggled with what she wanted to say next.
"Deeks, something I've learned lately is—we never know what's coming one day to the next so...so I'd like to know what you wanted to tell me, please..." she trailed off, a hint of nervousness in her tone, her dark eyes gleaming brightly.
A silence descended on the pair as Deeks struggled to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. It was finally happening, the moment he'd been waiting for since...he couldn't remember how long. Years? It had taken four, but they had finally gotten to this point. Taking a deep breath, he looked up and caught her beautiful polychrome eyes. Suddenly the ex-detective felt at ease, the weight in his chest rising like a balloon. He could do this, it was long overdue, for both of them.
"Kensi I—"
"Kensi? Are you in there?" a voice wafted from behind the door, cutting him off.
The brunette inhaled a sharp breath. Really? Again? Her mother had incredible timing...
Deeks smiled softly at her, shaking his head, hardly believing their luck...or lack thereof.
"Yeah mom, I'll be out in a minute," she called, rolling her eyes.
"Okay sweetheart! Have you seen where Marty got to?"
The partners winced as they realized the awkwardness of their situation. There was just something in Julia's tone that suggested she knew exactly where Marty had gotten to...
"Uh..." Kensi looked to Deeks, her eyes wide in a 'help me!' expression but he merely shrugged, throwing his hands up in the air to silently reply, 'what do you want me to do about it?!'
"Oh honey, open the door for a second I want to ask you something," Julia continued as if she hadn't heard Kensi's lame attempt at answering her.
"No mom, I can't," Kensi shook her head wildly, despite her mother not having x-ray vision and glaring at Deeks, as if expecting him to just vanish into thin air.
"Why? What's wrong? Are you okay? I'm coming in!" Julia exclaimed before the door began to creak open.
Frantically Kensi pushed Deeks backwards towards the shower. Deeks gaped at her, realizing what she wanted to do and tried to argue but she just continued to push him, an aggrieved expression on her face as she clearly aggravated her wound. Noticing that it was causing her pain, the blond shook his head and jumped into the shower, Kensi just pulling the curtain back in time before Julia stepped into the room.
"Are you going to take a shower?" she asked, watching as her daughter stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving a little, her face stricken.
"Uh, no, was just...catching my breath. I—I think I stood up too fast," Kensi replied, her eyes glued to the shower curtain, watching for any sign of movement.
Meanwhile, Deeks was sprawled against the wall, staring up at the ceiling and holding his breath, wondering why the hell he was hiding from her partner's mother in her shower of all places. It wasn't like they were doing anything...untoward.
At that thought, his heart did a little rumba in his rib-cage. He had been so close, so terrifyingly close to letting everything just spill from him like cascading water from a bursting dam. It was tiring, all this time, keeping everything he felt bottled up and now he'd gotten closer than he ever had before to breaking the seal he'd kept a tight lid on for years...
From the doorway, Julia looked from her daughter to where she was staring and shrugged.
"Okay well...Angela and I are just putting dinner on the table now if you want to join us. You too Marty, when you're finished your shower, that is—"
Deeks' feet slipped from under him as he heard her address him, falling back against the faucet and turning it slightly.
Ice-cold water sprayed down onto his head, drenching his hair and clothes.
"Shit..." his hissed under his breath just as the shower curtain was reefed back to reveal a very unimpressed-looking Kensi Blye.
"What the hell, Deeks?!"
The blond merely shrugged as he tried to regain his balance, slipping even further until he was on his knees, the water running down his back.
"Little help?" he asked with a sheepish grin, shaking the dripping flaxen tendrils from off his forehead.
With a roll of her eyes, the agent reached forward and shut off the water, throwing him a look of dismay as she drank in his state, something akin to a drowned-rat. With a bite of her lip, she ignored how his gray T-shirt was sticking to his chest, turning translucent, defining his pecs and offered him her hand.
"Where did your mom go?" he asked, his bright eyes darting to the door.
"She said something about 'giving us some privacy' before practically skipping out of the room," she grumbled, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "come on...we gotta get you out of those wet clothes..."
His eyebrows raised and she sighed.
"You know what I mean."
"Oh I know what you mean, Blye..." he smirked, taking her hand and climbing out of the shower.
Kensi winced as droplets of water dripped from his hair down onto her. Once Deeks was upright, she grabbed a towel from the rack and threw it at his head. He dragged it down over his face and through his hair before letting his arms hang at his sides, knowing that the rest of him was a lost cause, his clothes sticking to his body uncomfortably.
"Come on, I might have something for you to wear," Kensi murmured before turning stiffly and walking out of the room.
Deeks followed after her, his shoes squelching loudly. It took him a moment to realize where exactly it was she was leading him, a room he'd only ever been once before (remembering sorely the swift kick he got for his trouble...) her bedroom. And rapidly, his heart was doing the rumba again...
"Uh—"
"Try not to drip everywhere," she called over her shoulder, stepping over to her closet and rifling through it.
"I don't think I'm the hot-pink négligée type Kens," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Neither am I," she replied smartly, her back still turned as she pulled out something that was most certainly not a négligée.
"Here, they should fit," she turned and shoved a pair of sweatpants and a dark T-shirt with the Navy insignia across the chest into his hands.
"Who—"
"The sweatpants are mine but they're a couple of sizes too big. The T-shirt...is Jack's," she finished, swallowing deeply, avoiding his gaze.
He stared down at the shirt, a heavy sensation settling into his stomach.
"I—I'll be in the kitchen. I can throw your clothes in the dryer, they should be dry again by the time we're finished dinner," his partner mumbled before shuffling slowly out of the room, closing her bedroom door behind her.
Deeks stood in the middle of the room, still staring down at the worn T-shirt, knowing it had to at least be nine years old but it was clean, smelled like it had been washed recently.
She still wears it...
Suddenly, the wet clothes felt a lot less uncomfortable than they had before. In fact, he had absolutely no desire to take off his wet shirt. The pants, they could go, but he was fond of his Ramones tee, wet or not. And besides...he wasn't in the Navy.
With a shake of his head, he placed the T-shirt back on her bed, trying not to let the insignia burn its image into his brain and kicked off his shoes, reaching down to pull off his socks. It was safe to say, he never thought this would be the way he'd be stripping in Kensi Blye's bedroom...
Dark eyes narrowed to slits as nimble fingers threaded a long, copper wire under the harsh light of a desk lamp. Tense shoulders hunched over the marred wooden table as steady hands gently attached the electronic timer onto a Kevlar vest. It was his very own uniform, one that would prove to make quite an...explosive impression. He smirked at his pun, Kevin was always better with the clever wordplay.
Just as he put the finishing touches onto his masterpiece and very carefully deposited it back in its case, his phone rang. With a sigh, he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and picked up his cell, pressing the accept button wearily.
"Stan," he muttered, not waiting for his Navy buddy to speak, "what do you want?"
There was a short, humorless laugh at the other end of the line.
"That's a nice way to answer the phone," Stan Jacobs groused, a sigh on his lips.
"Now I know you didn't call to check me on my manners Stan," Oliver responded, assembling his camera equipment into a neat pile on the table.
"No, I am calling to check you're okay though," his friend replied, a hint of concern in his tone.
Now it was Oliver's turn to laugh.
"And why wouldn't I be?"
There was a short silence. Oliver could practically see Stan struggling for words.
"Well, when you saw that invitation last time you were here you...you looked a little...upset," he grumbled lowly.
The memory flashed before the ex-Lieutenant's eyes. He had come so far since he first saw that invitation less than a month ago. He did love it when a plan came together...
"I'm fine," he shrugged as he stood up to grab his camera bag, a small, .22 calibre gun resting on top of it.
With one hand, he picked up the gun and dislodged the clip, letting it fall onto the table before stashing the parts in the bag with his photography equipment.
"Okay, once you're sure. Just—just so you know, I'm really glad you're doing better, man. How's the photography going?"
A slow smile spread across Oliver's face as he stared down at his handiwork.
"Yeah, it's going great thanks. In fact, I got a new gig, starting tomorrow..."
"Oh well, I better let you go then, it's late. I gotta catch a flight to New York tomorrow but when I get back, you'll come over for dinner, right? Jenny wants to make you her famous casserole," he paused, waiting for Oliver to say something.
"Uh...yeah sure, sounds good. So, you're not going to Hart's ceremony then?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Another sigh omitted from the Lieutenant.
"No man I—out of respect for you and Kevin, I thought I'd skip it," he mumbled uncomfortably.
A wave of relief washed over Bradley, a small smile spreading across his face.
"That's good, thanks man, I appreciate it. Enjoy New York..."
"Good luck with the new job," Stan replied before ending the call.
Bradley sat there for a moment, taking in his old friend's words.
Unfortunately, luck was the last thing he needed.
"And then, when Marty was eight, he met a young boy named Wyatt, he was such a smart boy, so mature, so...philosophical for his age—"
"He was about as deep as that Brad Pitt Chanel commercial," Deeks cut across his mother as Julia laughed and Kensi hid a smile behind her glass, "you just thought the sun shined out his ass because he handpicked you flowers from his garden."
"Marty! Language!" Angela mock-chided before adding, "he was ridiculously well-dressed for an eight year old, though. I mean, maybe it's just me but...I think kids should be allowed to actually run and play and explore the world, not be too worried because they might get dirt on their blazer..." she trailed off with a shake of her head.
Julia nodded, chuckling.
"I remember when Kensi was five; she had this desire of wanting to wear her underwear over her pants like the superheroes—"
"Mom!" Kensi scolded as Deeks snorted.
Angela grinned, elbowing her son.
"Oh, I remember those days. Marty was absolutely obsessed with comics growing up. I couldn't get him to go asleep at night. He'd just stay up with his flashlight under the blankets and read until he passed out. I remember having to explain to his third grade teacher why he insisted on wearing a cape to school every day," she paused as Deeks mock-glared at her.
"You made me that cape," he reminded her pointedly.
"Well, my baby wanted a cape, so I made you a cape," she shrugged, "it was essential in your crime-fighting...or so you told me, anyway. Personally, I think you just wore it to impress the girls."
"Oh yeah because nothing says impressive like a skinny, pasty kid wearing a red sheet around his neck," Deeks deadpanned as Kensi tilted her head at him.
"You were pasty?"
Angela nodded, waving her hand at the younger brunette.
"Oh yeah, Marty only seemed to start to tan when he hit his pre-teen years. Probably right around puberty—"
"Mom..." Deeks warned.
"And what age was that?" Kensi asked, a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat speaking across her face.
"Around the time he decided that capes wasn't doing it for the girls so learning an instrument would," Angela quirked her eyebrow at her son.
"And you thought that instrument should be the violin," he groused, digging his fork into a potato.
"The violin is a wonderful instrument Marty and you play it beautifully," his mother replied matter-of-factly.
"Yeah but chicks dig guitars and a violin does not a rock star make," Deeks reminded her before Kensi piped up:
"I don't know, I was never much of a guitar groupie," she shrugged, as she took a sip of soda.
Julia and Angela exchanged a look, one that did not go unnoticed by the two partners.
Softly, Kensi cleared her throat and pushed her plate away from her.
"Thanks for the meal mom, Angela, it was great," she smiled gently, laying down her cutlery.
"It must be nice to be back on solid food," Deeks' mom commented as she and Julia began to clear away the plates.
"Yeah, that mushy stuff was gross," Kensi grimaced as she recalled the glorified baby-food she was served at the hospital.
"It looked like snot," Deeks offered helpfully as Kensi slapped him on the shoulder.
"I honestly don't know where he gets his grossness from," Angela sighed wearily as her son smirked at her.
"From the best mom, from the best," he winked before helping Julia bring the dishes into the kitchen.
Kensi watched them for a moment, her face softening as she saw him tell her mom a joke, Julia laughing heartily. He was always so great with people, always quick with some funny quip to put everyone at ease; he really could bring lightness to any situation...
"Something on your mind?" Angela asked curiously, tilting her head at her.
The agent snapped to attention, her eyes finding the elder woman's.
"Oh uh...I was just thinking that Deeks he...he's a really good person, Angela. You should be proud," she smiled softly.
"I am," she grinned back, "you mom should be very proud of you too. From what Marty tells me, you're the best partner he's ever had..."
Kensi's eyebrows rose. She didn't know why, but that statement surprised her.
"Really?" she found herself asking as butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
"Yeah," Angela nodded, "you really mean a lot to him, Kensi. I hope you know that."
The brunette stared at her wordlessly. Before she could come up with a response, Julia and Deeks came back into the room, a pie and fresh plates in their hands.
"Alright everybody," Julia grinned, putting the pie down on the table and cutting it into slices, "dig in!"
"Oh my god, is that the time?" Angela exclaimed a while later as she checked her watch, "I better get going, Kensi, you must be exhausted!"
Kensi shook her head at her, perched on the couch beside Deeks, her head tilted a little, almost touching his shoulder, too tired to worry about the awkward tension between them.
"No Angela, don't go on my account, I'm fine—"
"Nonsense! You were just released from hospital this afternoon. I'm sorry, time really got away from me," she apologized as she stood up, waving Kensi and Julia's protests away, "I better call a cab—"
"No hey mom, I'll drive you," Deeks murmured, standing up gently as to not disturb his partner too much.
"Well if you're sure, you better go get your pants then, huh?" she laughed, pointing at Kensi's too-short sweatpants that he was wearing, showing off his bare ankles.
"Oh yeah, I'll get them outta the dryer," Kensi said as she gently got off the couch, shuffling into the laundry room, Deeks hot on her heels.
With a wince, she went to bend down to open the dryer door when suddenly two hands sprawled softly on her hip and back, moving her gently to the side. Deeks then stepped beside her, leaning down to take out his jeans and socks before straightening up, a somewhat awkward expression on his face as he stared at her, motionless. It was then that Kensi realized that they had somehow migrated to stand close together again, barely a foot between them, her back resting against the machine as he held his clothes out in front of him.
"You were right," she murmured, staring at a spot to the left of his shoulder.
"Course I was…about what?" he asked, frowning in thought.
"I was going to kiss you."
Deeks bit his lip, ducking his head as her cheeks flushed.
"You didn't let me dry your shirt," she said suddenly, realizing that his Ramones tee still looked a little damp.
"No it—it wasn't that wet so I just kept it on," he shrugged, eyes on his now warm and dry jeans.
Kensi nodded, stepping around him and heading towards the door.
"Okay well, I'll let you get changed—"
"Kensi!" Deeks exclaimed, halting her in her tracks. Slowly, she turned back around to face him.
"Yeah?"
He shifted his weight from bare foot to bare foot before clearing his throat.
"Uh that—that talk from earlier...I was just wondering...could we maybe continue it? There are some things that I really need to say to you—"
"There are things I need to say to you too," she murmured, a somewhat shy grin on her face.
Deeks returned it, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Okay then, I'll bring over some lunch tomorrow, we can watch some TV, reruns of Top Model, Some Kind Of Wonderful, whatever you like and we'll talk," he finished as she nodded, still chewing on her bottom lip, something he knew she did when she was nervous.
"I look forward to it. Don't forget the Oreos," she called over her shoulder as she walked back out into the corridor.
"Didn't my mom bring you enough?" he asked her retreating back.
"You can never have enough Oreos, Deeks..."
Soft rays of sunlight shone through the clouds, basking many cars of all colours and sizes as they pulled up outside The Regency Hotel in west Los Angeles. Taking a deep breath, Robin Hart reached out to open the door, shooting a glance at her mother who laid her hand on her husband's shoulder.
"Are we here already?" he asked, somewhat surprised at the shortness of the journey.
"Yes Patrick, come on, let's just settled in our room. The ceremony doesn't start for another hour," Elizabeth Hart said as Robin opened the door, stepped out and held it open for them.
"Thanks, sweetheart," she smiled at her daughter, reaching out to take her husband's hand as he struggled to stand up.
"I'm fine Betty, stop fussing," he grumbled under his breath, straightening his dress-uniform as he stood up, a wince crossing his features.
"Okay well, we'll get you settled so you can look over your speech," she replied, sharing a look with Robin who just shrugged and grabbed one of their suitcases, heading for the entrance to the hotel.
The Captain nodded, putting his head under his arm and following his daughter, eyes straight ahead, head held high. Betty watched his retreating back, a knot of worry in the pit of her stomach. To her right, her eldest daughter Marie climbed out of the other car with her two twin boys and approached her.
"How is he?" she asked under her breath, following her eye line.
"He's...holding up," she sighed before patting her grandsons' heads, "come on boys, let's go look at your fancy hotel rooms."
The boys cheered jovially, racing into the hotel and bouncing around their grandfather excitedly as he signed in at the lobby reception desk.
Off in the near-distance, unbeknownst to them, the family was being watched by dark, narrowed eyes. As they all piled into the elevator, Bradley took the opportunity to approach the lobby desk and the smiling blonde behind it.
"Hi, my name is Kevin Barnett," he grinned, holding up his pristine fake-ID, "I'm here to photograph the ceremony in honour of Patrick Hart this afternoon."
"Oh yes, Mr Barnett, we've been expecting you. There is a conference room down the corridor to the left where you can set up your equipment, if you'd like to follow me..." the cute blonde stood up, motioning to him.
Oliver nodded, a smile creeping onto his face as he was led down the immaculate corridor.
Phase One: Complete.
Marty Deeks stifled a yawn as he poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He had had one hell of a night. First, Kensi was released from hospital (a big event in itself), then he had been caught training with Monroe by Callen and Sam after getting his ass handed to him by Hetty and finally having a definite 'moment' with Kensi, one of the most important he has ever had.
A pleased grin broke out on his face as he thought about his partner. He knew that the shift in their partnership/friendship wasn't in his imagination. She was going to kiss him, just like she did in the hospital, except this time it wasn't a cover kiss or while she was under the influence of medication. She was going to kiss him and he was going to kiss back and—and that was terrifying. Fantastic, but scary as hell.
It was finally happening, after all this time, four years next month. He was excited, scared, happy and anxious all at the same time. The anticipation was killing him, he'd hardly slept a wink all night, running scenarios around in his mind as he lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how their talk today was going to go.
At that thought, he glanced at his watch; he grin growing wider as he realized that it was less than an hour before he arrived at her house. Little did she know (and he'd never tell her) he was up, showered, dressed and ready to go since practically the crack of dawn. He'd even made sure to pick up Oreos on the way home last night at the 24 hour store just so he wouldn't have to stop on the way to her house today.
He couldn't wait to see her again...
"Someone's in a good mood," a voice came from behind him.
"It's a nice day," he replied, pouring another cup of coffee and turning to give it to his mother.
"I bet it is," she quirked an eyebrow at him, "would that goofy grin have anything to do with a certain beautiful brunette?"
"Julia?" he asked with a mock-puzzled expression on his face.
"I was thinking more of Julia's offspring," she said pointedly as she poured milk into the cup.
"Oh..." he trailed off, not able to keep the smirk off his face.
"Something happened between you two didn't it?" she asked, as blunt as ever.
"What? Mom—"
"Don't even try lying to me, Marty, you're terrible at it," she rolled her eyes, "besides, you can't go two seconds without grinning like a loon so I'm going to assume something did, no matter what you say," she finished with a shrug.
"Well, you assume all you like. Hey, I'm going out later—"
"Oh! Me too! Me and Julia are heading out for lunch, that new Italian place opened up by the mall—"
"You two are getting really chummy, huh?" he interrupted, folding his arms and tilting his head.
"She's an easy woman to talk to. She—she's had a hard life too," Angela's eyes lowered for a split-second, a darkness passing over her face before she shook her head and threw him a wry smile, "so yes, she's proving to be a good friend."
Deeks nodded.
"I'm glad you're friends, mom. Does she know that you're heading back at the end of the month?"
Julia shook her head, her face growing pensive.
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Marty. Would...would you be opposed to me staying a little longer? I—with this thing with Jimmy and my new friendship with Julia and everything that may or may not be going on with you and Kensi, I guess, I'd like to stick around," she finished, looking a little nervous as she awaited his response.
He didn't have to think about it.
"Are you kidding, mom? I love having you here! Of course you can stay longer, as long as you like! Speaking of Jimmy...how are you guys?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and elbowing her.
"You can be so immature sometimes," she mock-chided.
"I wonder who I get that from?"
They both shared a laugh as she began making him his favourite pancakes. There were definite perks to her sticking around...
"Things are good Marty, they're more than good."
Deeks smiled at the warmth in his mother's tone.
"I'm glad, if anyone deserves 'more than good' it's you, Mom."
"And you Marty, you deserve it too."
The blond smiled, squeezing his mom's shoulders in a one armed hug, his mind travelling to Kensi again.
He definitely had something more than good...
Dozens of well-dressed people made their way into a large, lavish room that was lined with wide, circular tables donned with candles and fresh white tulips. Men and women dressed in Navy blues, others in tuxedos and gowns, all went in search of their names that sat in front of their appointed seats as close to the stage, Captain Patrick Hart sat re-reading his speech, oblivious to the world around him. Suddenly, he felt a presence overshadow him, making the words on his flashcards difficult to see. With a frown, Hart lifted his head and was met by a face that he hadn't seen in an incredibly long time.
"Well I'll be damned...I wasn't expecting to see you here," he remarked, standing up and staring at the dark-eyed man.
"Patrick, how the hell are you?" the man smiled, offering his hand.
"Better than you look Owen," he laughed, shaking his hand vigorously and slapping his back.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would please take your seats, we will be beginning in a few moments," a young woman dressed in uniform said into the microphone.
"Dad!" Robin called, crossing the room, weaving in and out of the guests and halting in front of the two men.
"Lieutenant Robin Hart, this is Owen Granger, an old friend of mine. Owen, you remember my daughter?" Patrick made introductions, motioning between them.
"Last time I saw you, you were ten years old," Granger smiled as he shook the young woman's hand.
"Nice to see you again Mr Granger," she replied politely before turning to her father, "come on Dad, our table is over here..." she trailed off, waiting for him to follow her.
He shared a look with his old friend.
"Well, duty calls Owen," Hart pointed a finger at him, "don't you go disappearing. When all this hoopla is done, I have an incredibly overdue bone to pick with you," he smirked before following his daughter.
Deputy Director Granger stared at his retreating back for a moment before he was overwhelmed by the intense feeling that he was being watched. Glancing around, his eyes as steady as a hawk's, he surveyed the many guests and Navy personnel around him, not quite able to shake the sensation. Coming up empty on anything suspicious, he shook his head and went in search of his seat, truly looking forward to the day ahead.
Standing in the doorway of the room, was the ever-observing Oliver Bradley, having witnessed the scene between Hart and Granger. Interesting. The man looked like ex-Navy but he didn't recognize him. And after today, nobody else would either...
"Excuse me sir, we need to search you," a security guard said as he stood with metal detector device in hand as another guard took his bag.
"Of course," Oliver nodded, outstretching his arms and legs.
"ID, sir?" the second security guard asked he searched his bag, seeing his camera equipment and zipping it back up again.
Bradley handed him the fake ID.
"Mr Kevin Barnett," the guard said to his friend as he finished his body check and looked to his clipboard.
"Yeah, we got him here, he's the photographer," he nodded before handing Oliver back the bag and ID.
"Here you are sir, enjoy your day," he smiled as Oliver took his possessions and smiled back.
"Thank you, I will..." he murmured before stepping into the room, heading straight backstage to where he hid his other bag earlier.
It was time to put on his uniform...
"He shoots, he scores!" G Callen grinned as his paper ball flew into the trashcan.
"I could make that shot in my sleep, G," his partner groused, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.
"Slow day?" Zack Monroe asked as he surveyed the two, walking into the bullpen and halting to rest against Callen's desk.
"Slower than most," Sam replied, "or maybe it's just because we don't have Kensi and Deeks here to entertain us..."
Zack chuckled, "sorry I'm no class-clown like Deeks."
"Don't worry about it, nobody is," Callen smirked as another paper ball landed in the trash can.
"Anybody see Hetty?" Sam asked after a moment's silence, glancing around to find his boss' office empty.
"She said something about meeting up with an old friend, you know how cloak and dagger she gets," Monroe murmured as he riffled through some paperwork, his head already aching despite the fact that it was barely past noon.
"You've no idea, kid," Callen said, getting bored of his game and going over to make himself a cup of coffee.
Maybe, he mused as he watched Sam and Monroe talk, just this once, they were actually going to have an uneventful day...
"And now, without further ado, the man of the hour, Captain Patrick Hart!"
Patrick stood up out of the chair that was lined with two others on the stage, kissing his wife and daughter on the cheek before shaking the Commander's hand and stepping up to the podium. As he stared out at all the smiling faces, all waiting for some grand speech, he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach. Honestly, he never wanted any of this. It was all a huge waste of time in his opinion and deep down, every single person in the room knew why he was being honoured today.
He was a dying man...a dying man who served his country for forty years and managed to not perish in combat. And they thought that deserved a big show. Well hell, he didn't think so. He would have preferred the money wasted on this event went to the youth, the young people who were just starting out in their careers, who were just finding their footing and would one day become successful men and women of the Navy – like his daughter Robin.
He was never more proud of her than the day she made Lieutenant. Standing tall and strong in her uniform, saluting her superiors, looking every bit like he did when he was promoted. He was really doing this for her. He knew how important is was for her to keep the faith, keep hoping that he would pull through this, that he would beat the cancer that had been slowly but surely killing him for a number of years now. And if she needed him to go through this fancy ceremony to keep that hope alive then so be it...
With a deep breath, he took one last look at his beautiful wife and daughter, and glanced to his other beautiful daughter and grandsons in the audience and began his speech, smiling warmly and for the first time in a long time, he felt well.
The audience hung on his every word as he thanked everyone involved with the day and reminisced about his old friends and old memories and how much he enjoyed his Naval career. Before he knew it, he was beginning his concluding paragraph:
"So friends, family and distinguished Naval personnel, it is with great honour and humble thanks that I conclude by saying I am incredibly lucky and proud of the career I have sustained serving the United States Navy. I wish now, to end my speech with a moment's silence for all of the fallen heroes, to give thoughts and prayers to them and their families..." he trailed off, bowing his head as they room descended into silence.
Suddenly, a flash of light shone in his face, the clicking of a camera taking a photograph disrupting the silence harshly. Glancing up, Hart frowned as he saw a young man in his early thirties, standing not two feet from the stage; large camera held above his head, it pointed in his direction. But that was not what caught his attention; it was the look of pure fury in the man's hazel gaze, the twisted expression of rage that marred his face.
"And you'd know all about the fallen heroes, wouldn't you Hart?" he called loudly, tilting his head as if waiting for a reply.
Hart merely stared silently at him.
"What? Don't remember my face?" he asked, tone dripping with false humour as he descended the steps of the stage, halting on the second, "that's funny, because no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget yours..."
There was a shift in the ambiance of the room. A tenseness that had begun to sink heavily into each guest as they watched on.
"What the hell are you doing? Get off the stage before I call security!" Robin Hart stood up, storming over to the man and reaching out to clasp his elbow.
"Ah, ah, ah lady, I wouldn't do that if I were you," he murmured with a smirk, tilting away from her, his jacket falling open in the process to reveal a large Kevlar vest, donned with wires and what appeared to be blocks of C4, a small red timer emblazed across the chest, the numbers 03:49:21 quickly counting down the seconds, 20, 19, 18...
"Now," Bradley said calmly as there were loud gasps, frantic murmurs and a couple of screams throughout the crowd, "if you value your lives, you will do precisely what I say..."
And so he began making his demands, retrieving a gun (now assembled) from his camera bag and pointing it at Robin Hart. Quickly, he told everybody to remain in their seats, forced two guests to chain the doors closed with large locks as another two went around with two black bags collecting cell-phones and other electronic devices, along with any weapons.
Patrick remained frozen to the spot, staring as the man shoved a pistol into the back of his daughter's head. Frantically, he searched for a familiar face and found Granger, at a table to his left. Silently, they engaged in a conversation.
Behind his back, Granger quickly typed out his distress message, sending it to the person at the top of his speed-dial before he was forced to deposit his phone into one of the plastic bags. As he caught the Captain's gaze, he gave a tiny, barely noticeable nod which clearly said:
Help is on the way...
Marty and Angela Deeks laughed as they cleared away their breakfast dishes. Deeks was getting ready; he was due at Kensi's in twenty minutes.
"Alright mom, have fun with Julia, I'll talk to you later," he smiled, bending down to kiss her cheek as he threw on his favourite jacket.
Angela smirked, looking her son up and down.
"You look very nice...you sure you're not going on a date?" she asked, her tone teasing.
"No mom, not a date," he replied, but the way his heart was hammering in his chest, it very well could be.
"Yeah, yeah, so you—"
Angela was cut off by Deeks' cell phone ringing.
"That's probably your not-date now," she laughed before waving and turning on her heel, grabbing her bag and leaving the apartment.
With curious eyes, Deeks walked over to where his phone lay on the table and caught the caller-ID. He frowned, why was Hetty calling him?
His heart skipped a beat. The last time Hetty called him, it was when Kensi was shot.
With shaking hands he answered the call, already rambling:
"Hey Hetty, what's going on? Is Kensi okay?"
After a beat of silence, Hetty's voice came from the other end, sounding a little on edge.
"Ms Blye is fine Mr Deeks...but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut your leave early, we need all hands on deck. We need you now, down at The Regency Hotel. There is a hostage situation, a man with a bomb strapped to his chest has crashed the ceremony of a Naval Captain..."
Deeks eyes widened as he grabbed his keys, a fire burning in his veins as he already began running scenarios in his head.
"What's the situation like? Are Sam and Callen—"
"They and Mr Monroe are on their way. But there's something you should know, Mr Deeks..." she trailed off as he raced to his room, opened his safe and pulled out his gun.
"What?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"Deputy Director Granger was the one that sent out the distress message to me. He's at the ceremony, with over fifty people, both Naval and civilian with enough C4 strapped to him to take out everything within at least a four-block radius."
Deeks let out a breath as he locked up his apartment and raced down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator.
This was bad, very bad.
Looks like his not-date with Kensi would have to wait...
Kensi Blye drummed her fingernails on her kitchen table, her chin resting in her other palm as she glanced at her clock for what must have been the tenth time in the last five minutes.
He was late.
While it wasn't rare for Deeks to be late, she had hoped that today would not be one of those days. She had barely slept all night and was on edge, a nervous excitement in her gut, a bubbly, fluttering sensation that made her want to keep moving, to not stay still. Unfortunately, in her current position, running around her apartment was not an option right now so she was forced to sit and wait, something she (a woman of action) couldn't abide. But she'd do it...for him.
But seriously? He was already fifteen minutes late! She could barely stand it. After yesterday, after admitting that she wanted to kiss him, that she had heard his bedside confession, she couldn't possibly be expected to remain calm, patient. She was only human, after all.
Four years. Four long years this had been building. Their 'thing.' And now, it was finally at a head, finally morphing, changing into something...different, even better than before. She could feel it.
And yeah, even as little as three weeks ago she would have been terrified...a part of her still was. But so much had changed between them, so many things experienced, said and unsaid. She wanted to at least talk it out with him, no matter how horrifying that sounded. She was never one to express her feelings, she was an action kinda girl, always was. But she knew that this was something that meant far too much to go in blind. To shoot first and ask questions later.
So, she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Just when she was going to cave and consider sending him a text with questions and demands and curse words, her phone beeped, signalling she got a voice-mail. Annoyed with herself for having missed the call, she snatched it up. Biting her lip, she held the phone up to her ear, a sense of foreboding settling into her bones, ice-cold dread sending shivers down her spine...
"Hey Kens, it's me..." Deeks' voice called into her ear, it settling her nerves a little, "listen, I—I've been called back into work...something's going down at a hotel in west LA. But I—I'll call you later, okay? And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about our talk. Rain check? Okay...bye."
Her heart simultaneously lifted and sank. She was conflicted. Half of her was disappointed that he wasn't coming and the other half of her was happy to hear that he hadn't blown her off, that he'd just gotten called into work...
Before she could drive herself crazy analyzing that, a knock at her door caught her attention.
Frowning, Kensi slowly stood up, careful not to aggravate her wound, and shuffled to her door. It was too early for her mom to be back from being out with Angela (and she had a key) and she wasn't expecting anyone else...
It was at moments like these where she kicked herself for not having her gun at hand. But, never to be one to be caught unprotected, Kensi wrapped her hand around the bat she kept by the door, taking the last few steps. Slowly, she reached out with her other hand and pulled back the drapes that hung on her door, her mouth dropping open in shock as she saw who stood on the other side.
Dropping the bat and quickly turning the key to unlock the door, she flung it open and stepped back to look into her friend's eyes, drinking in his tired but pleased form.
"Nate?"
A/N: Ten points to any Fringe fan that caught a very subtle reference somewhere in the chapter ;) Hope you guys enjoyed! An update will be posted within the next few weeks :D Forgive any mistakes, I had to update this super-fast...
NEXT CHAPTER TEASER:
"It has to be me."
"Deeks—"
"No listen, it has to be me that goes in there. You guys are busy with clearing the area and I have experience in hostage negotiation, I—I think I can gain his trust, get him to disarm the bomb," Deeks said, his tone dripping with determination as he paced back and forth.
"And if you can't?" Callen asked, exchanging a glance with Sam before turning to Deeks.
"Then..." the newly-appointed agent murmured, "boom."