Life, Lies and Video Surveillance
By Cortexikid
Chapter 34: Aphorism (Part IV)
A/N: And here it is. After a 33 chapters and an eight-month wait, the moment has come. From the bottom of my heart, I hope you enjoy it. Again, Merry Christmas Everyone :D
NOTE: This also ended up being incredibly longer than I thought it initially would so take breaks if needed :)
Disclaimer: I wish the wonderful NCIS: Los Angeles and its characters were mine but sadly, they're not...
WOTD: APHORISM; aph·or·is·m noun. Expressing a belief. Often true.
"Kensi what the hell are you doing here?!"
The brunette merely stared past Callen, ignoring his question and hobbling further towards them, Eric's laptop in her eye line. Silently, she peered at the screen, a small gasp escaping her as she saw the blurry figure of her partner, standing perfectly still as another man pointed a gun at his head.
"What's he saying? Have you got audio? What's—"
"Excuse me!"
Kensi was cut off by a voice calling from across the parking lot. Slowly, the team turned towards it, it belonging to a tall, blond-haired flustered man who was rushing towards them.
"Sir, you can't be back here, this is a cordoned area! Sir!" Detective Rhodes was hot on his heels.
"Excuse me, are you in charge?" the man ignored Rhodes, directing his gaze at Nate who gaped at him.
"Uh..." he murmured, looking around, waiting for anyone to jump in.
"I'm Lieutenant Alex Johnson, my uh partner..." he cleared his throat, "my friend Robin Hart is in that building," he gestured to the hotel, "I—I saw the report on the news. Is it...is there really a bomb?"
Callen and Sam exchanged a quick glance.
"Lieutenant, would you happen to know a man named Oliver Bradley?" Callen asked as he stepped forward, took Alex by the elbow and led him away for a private word.
Kensi stared at the trio converse off in the distance for a moment before turning back to Eric and Nell who were still gazing at her with widened eyes.
With a wince, she trudged over to them, her orbs never leaving the small screen, glued to her partner who stood in front of a man wielding a gun and apparently talking animatedly, if his body language was anything to go by.
With a bite of her lip, Kensi turned to Nell who was still staring at her as if she couldn't quite believe she was there, asking worriedly, "what the hell is Deeks doing?"
"Uh...run that by me again?"
Marty Deeks stood perfectly still as he watched Oliver Bradley pace back and forth, growing more and more agitated.
"You heard me. The hostages can go, but you can't..." he replied pointedly, gesturing from Deeks to the scared people lined along the wall.
The agent's eyes searched the crowd until he found a familiar face, his gaze interlocking with Granger who was staring at him unblinkingly.
"Okay, me for the hostages," Deeks nodded, ignoring Granger whose face had now turned into a glare, "how about we untie them though huh—"
"They stay bound," Bradley interjected, "makes it harder for them to try anything stupid. They can leave as soon as I get one thing," he trailed off, pacing again, back and forth.
Deeks could practically see the cogs turning in his brain. He knew, could feel that Bradley was highly disorganized, powered purely by a ravenous need for revenge and frankly, that didn't bode well for any of them. A disorganized man was a dangerous, unpredictable man.
"Okay, what's the one thing?" he asked, shoving down the bile that was beginning to rise in his throat.
Bradley looked up then, straight into Deeks' eyes, before turning around and looking into the camera that hung on the top left corner of the room.
Outside, Kensi, Eric, Nell and Nate stared back, barely breathing as they waited for Bradley to say something.
"I know your friends can hear me," he spoke to Deeks without turning, his eyes still on the camera, "so, whoever's listening, this is for you..."
"Absolutely not."
"Henrietta—"
"I said no, Leon," Hetty Lange folded her arms, standing up straight as she stared at the large, flat-screen television where her boss's face could be seen, sitting at his desk in Washington.
"And what if I said that it was already done?" Director Leon Vance asked, his elbows coming to rest on his desk as his eyes trained on his computer.
"I'd say that that was a rather foolish thing for you to do," she replied without a beat, "considering that Owen has neither resigned nor ceased breathing..."
Vance stilled at her words.
"Nobody wants him to get through this more than me, Henrietta," he responded, "but, there are precautions that need to be upheld and Owen of all people—"
"I have every faith that the Deputy Director will get through this. Thus, this conversation is null and void," Hetty interrupted him, "I shall be back in touch once I get word on my team's progress. If there are any more bureaucrats that wish to waste my time, tell them I'll deal with them when there's no longer an imminent bomb threat. Always a pleasure, Director Vance," she finished, closing down the laptop and ending the video call, her eyes trained on the now blank screen.
There was surely to be hell to pay for her boldness but frankly she was on the defensive once the words 'precaution', 'precedence' and 'protocol' entered into Vance's vocabulary. She knew he was just doing his job and Owen was a close personal friend of his and he was getting pulled in every direction by the other higher ups but to ask this of her, just stung. For everyone.
Checking her watch, she grabbed her bag and made her way out. She had spent too long already stuck in meetings, on the sidelines, on the fringes of this investigation. It was time she dove in, head-first.
"This guy is crazy," Kensi gaped as she watched Bradley check the zip-ties personally on each and every one of the hostages, the timer on his chest quickly counting down the seconds ever an ominous presence: 1:10:57...56...55...
"You know, I don't think he is," Nate piped up, "I think he's just desperate."
"That's exactly what Deeks said," Eric murmured, he and Nell sharing a look.
"Yeah but...to have us record whatever the hell is gonna happen next? I mean, what for? And what does he need Deeks there for anyway if he's just letting the hostages go?" Kensi asked, frustration flashing across her face.
"Leverage," Callen replied, walking back over to them, his partner and Alex Johnson in tow.
"Tell them what you just told us, Lieutenant," the agent gestured at Johnson.
Alex's eyes widened as he paused, clearing his throat and shifting his weight from foot to foot, staring straight at the building, his mind clearly a million miles away.
"It was soon after I enlisted, one night we were all in the mess hall having dinner. Everything seemed normal for a while until a fight broke out right outside the door. It was Captain Hart and Lieutenant Bradley..." he trailed off, not meeting any of the team's eyes.
"Oliver?" Eric couldn't help but ask.
"Kevin," Alex replied, "they were really getting into it, yelling, I think he actually shoved the Captain at one point..."
Everyone's eyebrows shot up.
"Anyway, I heard a little of what they were arguing about...we all did," he paused, frowning, "it was something about some mission, Kevin was shouting it from the rooftops and this was a classified operation but he just lost it...abandoned all protocol and called Hart out on some big mistake he apparently made..." he heaved a sigh, taking a seat next to Kensi, shoulders tense, his hands clasped together tightly.
"Action was going to be taken against him, that was obvious but...but before anybody got the chance...Kevin committed suicide three days later," he finished, hanging his head.
There was a short silence as the team let that information sink in.
"So Oliver blames Hart for his brother's suicide?" Kensi asked softly, her eyes darting to the screen every few seconds to check on Deeks.
"Yeah, I think so. Seeing him die like that—"
"Wait, Oliver witnessed his brother's death?" Nate cut across him; his eyebrows knit together, his forehead crinkled with lines.
That could not be a good sign...
"Uh yeah, Oliver was in the room when Kevin killed himself, it was reported later that he was trying to talk him out of it, he nearly got shot himself when he tried to wrestle the gun out of his brother's hand," Alex murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes following Kensi's to the screen and falling silent.
"That could be why Oliver let Deeks in..." Nate muttered almost to himself.
"What?" Kensi asked, not ungluing her eyes from the screen, watching intently as her partner was shoved by Bradley, over towards the hostages, the gun still pointed at his head.
"It could be why he spoke to Deeks and let him come into the building. Maybe he saw Deeks like he saw himself with Kevin, just a man trying to talk down another man from doing something drastic," Nate elaborated, gesturing at the screen.
"He doesn't have the characteristics of the typical bomber, that much is clear. He seems to be playing things by ear, his initial plan, whatever it was, has changed. His rage is focused entirely on Hart; he yells right down into his face, the hostages are almost an afterthought, like he forgets they're there. Which begs the question, why the spectacle?" the psychologist asked, looking around him.
"To get attention..." Kensi half-whispered, "that's what he wants right? He wants to draw attention not only to himself, but Hart too and what does that better than a bomb threat? He wants us to record when he tells us to so...maybe he's looking for a confession?"
Before anyone could offer a response to that, Oliver turned and stared directly up into the camera. Eric clicked the buttons so they could hear through Deeks' com as Callen, Sam and Lieutenant Johnson stepped nearer.
"Looks like," Callen murmured, arms folded tensely, "we're about to find out..."
Ex-Lieutenant Oliver Bradley shoved the blond man towards the hostages, keeping the gun pointed directly at his forehead.
"So Marty...is it detective or agent? You may not be LAPD, but you're definitely something," he remarked, glaring at Deeks as he stepped in front of a young girl, no more than fourteen, shielding her from view and Bradley's potentially explosive temper.
"Uh..." he murmured, looking Bradley dead in the eye, wanting to have his full attention, "I suppose now it's Agent."
"Now?" Bradley asked, ignoring the sniffling coming from the petrified hostages.
"Well, I recently had a career change," Deeks continued, feeling the eyes of the Deputy Director boring into him, hoping that opening up a little would build even more of a rapport with Oliver.
"And I'm your first case? I'm flattered," the ex-lieutenant deadpanned before turning his back to Deeks.
After a second, he clicked his fingers, rolling his eyes as if he was irritated with himself.
"Oh do me a favor and hand over the gun you have strapped to your ankle," he smirked.
Deeks' heart thudded in his chest. He could feel Granger's glare become even fiercer.
"I know you Agent types are always packin' Marty...good thing I like you or I would have blown your brains out for lying to me..." he grinned as Deeks unstrapped his gun and threw it to him.
Oliver stared at it in his hands for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly and flinging it into his camera bag before turning on his heel and addressing Captain Hart who sat, bolt upright in the chair, his eyes on the floor.
"You're being awfully quiet, old man," he stepped closer, pistol now pointed at Hart's chest, "you haven't said a word since I got here, in fact. Nothing but pleas, 'please let the hostages go', 'please don't hurt my family.' You got anything else to contribute to all this before we get the show on the road?" he hissed, coming right down into Hart's face, spit landing on his cheek.
Hart's jaw clenched, his eyes shining like steel as he glared up into the younger man's face, not remotely fazed.
"The show?" he asked quietly.
"Oh yeah," Oliver waved theatrically, spinning around and making his way over to the corner of the room, staring straight up into the camera and addressing the people he knew to be listening from outside.
"Hey cops...feds...whoever you are, listen up. As a sign of good faith as your buddy Agent Marty here so eloquently put it, I'm gonna let most of the hostages go," he paused, as if waiting for the team to reply.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marty go still.
"Is Big Brother paying attention?" he asked firmly before turning back to the camera.
"Yeah," Deeks nodded as he heard Nell assure him that they did, "they're listening."
Oliver nodded, bouncing on his heels.
"Alrighty then, well, like I was saying...as a sign of good faith, I'm lettin' most of the hostages go, on one condition," he paused again before clearing his throat.
Deeks almost rolled his eyes at his theatrics.
"Like I said before, I want you on my say-so to record the happenings inside this room. Once I'm assured that that will happen, I'll let the first half go..."
The tension in the room was thick enough that a chainsaw would have trouble cutting through it.
Deeks' ears perked up as he waited for someone to reply.
Outside, Callen looked to Nell and Eric as the rest of the team plus Nate and Johnson waited with bated breath.
"We can make copies of the hotel's footage, right?"
Nell nodded, "yeah, but only the visual, the only audio we have is Deeks' com..."
A sickening feeling rose in Kensi's stomach. She gestured to Nell to cut the communication with Deeks for a moment. With a frown, the tech-analyst complied and turned to her.
"What's up?" she asked quietly.
"Get Deeks to give Bradley his com. That way, we can hear everything he says and give him what he wants. You can record the audio from the ear-bud, right?"
Eric and Nell exchanged a glance.
"Yeah, it's doable," the former nodded, "but should Deeks really go radio-silent?"
A shadow passed over Kensi's face as she realized just what that meant. They would be able to hear everything in the room, but Deeks wouldn't be able to hear them...
"He knows what he's doing," she said, her voice sounding far more confident than she felt.
Her nerve endings felt like they were on fire. This could go wrong, very, very wrong.
A silence descended on the team for a moment as each member deliberated silently.
"Okay Nell, un-mute us," Callen ordered, staring at Eric's small-screen laptop, half of their colleague's body still in the frame.
"Deeks, can you hear us?" he asked, watching as the newly-appointed agent's body stiffened before offering a slight nod.
"Good, okay, give Bradley your com," he instructed, watching as one half of Deeks' face began to frown.
"That way we can still hear everything that's going on, record it and talk to him at the same time," Callen explained, "tell him it's the only way he can get what he wants..."
Kensi watched as Deeks cleared his throat, stepping a little towards Bradley. She tried to shove down the portentous feeling that she had just signed his death warrant.
"You won't be able to hear us Deeks...you got this?" Sam asked as they all watched him reach up to his ear and pause, his hand stilling.
"Trust me, I'm an agent," he breathed under his breath with a cheeky wink to the camera before taking the com out of his ear.
Kensi's heart thumped in her chest. She knew he was just trying to be reassuring but she could sense his nervousness. She wished she could let him know she was here but...he needed to focus, it was better if he still thought she was safely back home.
"Oliver..." they heard Deeks' voice, a little quieter than before as they watched him outreach his hand towards the ex-Lieutenant, "my team want you to have this..."
Bradley stared at it suspiciously, before his eyes darted up the blond.
"You're giving me your only form of communication to the outside world, Marty?" he asked, not sure if he was being played or if this guy was just exceptionally stupid.
"Call it a sign of good faith," Deeks replied, nodding to the bud in the palm of his hand.
Bradley stared at his hand, eyes narrowed before nodding, as if winning an inner-battle with himself and took the bud from the agent and deftly placed it into his ear, clearing his throat.
"Let's just hope," he began, his gaze trained on Deeks, "that whoever is taking the reins is as courteous as you Marty; otherwise we may have a problem..."
Three Weeks Earlier...
The shrill sound of an alarm clock shook awake one Mr. Oliver Bradley from his fitful sleep. Tiredly, he let out a groan, rolling over and shutting it off, his eyes still tightly shut. He had had a long night, re-working his résumé, trying everything and anything he could to land a job. So far, he'd tried out for a fry-cook, a waiter at an Italian restaurant, a cashier, a telemarketer...but he just couldn't keep any of them for long. His mind was going numb, his body aching from underuse, he needed something more physical, more challenging, something he could be passionate about...
He loved photography.
He always had, ever since he was a little boy. He and his brother Kevin would always go hiking back home, the higher the better and he'd always remember to take his trusty camera so he could get some shots of Kevin acting like an idiot in front of a glorious sunset or some foraging squirrels...his younger brother had thought it was stupid, had made fun of him for it at first. But after a while, when he saw the wonderful pictures Oliver had taken and how happy it made him, he stopped, had supported his dream of being a world-renowned photographer.
That is, until their father insisted that they enlist.
Their lives changed forever that day. They, two boys from Indiana with barely eighteen months between their ages, were shipped off, neither looking back for years...
But now, everything had changed once again. Ever since that day—Oliver winced as he thought about it, staring up at his bedroom ceiling—ever since the day his brother committed suicide, ever since he left the Navy, the only thing he wanted (apart from revenge) was to pursue his dream of photography.
So, when he grieved and hit rock bottom and decided it was time to pick himself back up, he enrolled himself this time into a photography night class at the Community College, using the money he scraped together from his odd jobs to pay for it. And that time had been the most enjoyable he'd had in years. He had training now. So, it was time to put that experience to work and find a job, a photography gig.
With a determined nod, Oliver sat up, swung his legs over the side of his bed and pushed out all the negative thoughts, all the bad memories from his past life and vowed that today was the day that he found himself something to start him off in his new career. Today was the first day of the rest of his life...
Suddenly, he heard the sound of mail being pushed under his door, right on time as usual. With a frown, he wondered what it could be now; it seemed all he got these days were bill after bill: electric, gas, his mom's retirement home...
With aching bones, he shuffled out of his room and down the corridor. He made a mental note to feed Heisenberg, his Blue-Freckled Cichlid fish, as he passed by the tank. Stifling a yawn and stretching his arms over his head, he made his way into the kitchen to put on some coffee. It was just as he was buttering some toast that he decided to stop delaying the inevitable and go get the damn mail already. Mrs McGregor was so kind to pick it up from down stairs for him, there was no point ignoring it any longer.
Heaving a sigh, he padded out towards the door, seeing a quite large, folded manila envelope lying on the floor.
Mrs McGregor must have had a hard time getting that out of the mail slot...would that even fit in the mail slot?
It was then when he turned it over and realized that there was no address written on it. It just had his name, in large, bold, black-ink letters across the middle...
MR. OLIVER RYAN BRADLEY
"Weird," Oliver grumbled under his breath, suddenly feeling the need to sit down, a wave of unease washing over him as he slowly made his way over to the couch and sank down into it.
With fumbling fingers, he held the envelope out in front of him, staring at it for a moment before making a snap-decision and quickly but carefully ripping it open.
His eyes widened as three different pieces of paper dropped into his lap. Silently, he picked up the first one, an involuntary gasp escaping from his lungs as his eyes landed on the face of a man he hadn't seen for years and never wanted to see again...Captain Patrick Hart.
Gaping, he stared at the black and white photo of the casually-dressed man smoking a pipe on what appeared to be his own home's porch.
What the hell?
Shaking his head, Oliver shuffled the papers and read the second piece.
It was a4 in size, with just two short sentences typed in the center.
HANK'S GYM, LOCKER 947
YOU'LL FIND WHAT YOU NEED THERE
His heart thumping in his chest at the endless possibilities, he took out the last piece of paper, this one having a little weight to it. With a bite of his lip, he realized that was because there was a key marked 947 taped to the page, it only containing the words:
BE QUICK ABOUT IT
Before he could properly process what was happening (or he could talk himself out of it) Oliver bolted to his room, threw on some clothes, grabbed his keys, the pieces of paper and slammed the door shut behind him.
There was no way he was passing this up...whatever 'this' was...
What should have been a twenty minute drive took him nine he broke that many traffic laws. As Hank's Gym came within his sight, he swerved into an empty parking spot, grabbed the envelope and exited, barely remembering to lock his car before he bolted into the gym, the small key digging roughly into the palm of his hand. With wild eyes, he ignored the gym-enthusiasts and headed straight for the lockers. With hurried but cautious steps (not wanting to draw too much attention to himself) he searched the lines of small, metal boxes until his eyes landed on 947.
With a shaking hand, he reached out with the key and shoved it in the lock, turning it quickly. Bracing himself (for what he wasn't sure) he took a deep breath before he swung the door open, frowning as he saw a small bag with another piece of paper taped to it.
IN HERE YOU'LL FIND EXACTLY WHAT YOU NEED TO DO WHAT WE BOTH KNOW YOU'VE WANTED TO DO FOR A VERY LONG TIME.
KEEP THE PHONE TOO. I WILL BE IN TOUCH WITH FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
His frown deepening, Oliver pocketed the paper before glancing around him, making sure that nobody was paying attention to him before he shakily opened the bag, nearly dropping it in shock as his eyes landed on what was inside.
There, sitting comfortably in the bottom of the bag beside a black burner phone, was a small, silver pistol...
Present
"Mr Bradley, this is NCIS Special Agent G Callen," the agent said clearly, watching as the ex-lieutenant stilled, his attention peaked.
"NCIS huh? So Marty here is one of you?" he asked, his eyes turning back to Deeks who took his place in front of the young girl, his hands hanging loosely at his sides as he pondered what the team were saying to Bradley.
"Yeah, he's one of us," Callen confirmed as he and Kensi exchanged a glance, worried what that confirmation would cause.
"Huh, he doesn't look like an agent," Bradley scoffed, his orbs raking up and down Deeks' form.
"Then again," he mused quietly before Callen could respond, "he doesn't look much like a cop either..."
Deeks smirked, "well, I look like a cop and I get dead so...this look works for me."
"I get that," Bradley nodded, a not entirely unpleasant expression crossing his face.
Callen and the rest of the team watched this exchange.
Nate, murmuring softly so the tech wouldn't pick up his voice, leaned into Kensi's space:
"Deeks has built a rapport with him; I think he might be able to do this..."
Callen waited a beat to see if Oliver was going to stir back the conversation. When he didn't, he decided he would move things along.
"So Mr Bradley, how do you wanna do this?
19 Days Earlier...
It had been two days now. Two days he had this phone and the pistol that remained hidden in the small, black bag in his closet. Two full days and the phone hadn't made a sound. There were no numbers, no messages; nothing programmed into it, nothing to give him any indication what was going on.
He had been staring at it almost every second of those two days, falling into fitful, warped dreams only to snap awake, startled, ringing in his ears but never did it come from the cell phone. It was weighing on his nerves, his last nerve in fact. Perhaps it was just some sick joke? An old Navy colleague? Someone he pissed off in the past? Jesus, that could be anyone...
"Well, Heisenberg," he sighed, standing up and turning his back to where the offending object lay, staring at his fish tank, "looks like it's just—"
The shrill ring of the cell phone cut him off abruptly. With widened eyes, he whirled back around, stumbling to the coffee table and snatching up the phone, not pausing to take a breath before he pressed the button.
"H-Hello?" he stammered, suddenly incredibly nervous.
"Oliver Bradley?" a robotic voice, clearly disguising the caller's true tone, wafted into his ear.
"Uh...yeah...who are you? What—what do you want?" he asked, trying and failing to sound confident.
"Well, as for your first question, let's just say I'm a concerned acquaintance. As for your second? I'd say it's rather obvious what I want...or should I say, what you want..."
Oliver gaped, the words sticking in his throat. The voice continued as if he had responded.
"Captain Patrick Hart will be outside The Regency Hotel at 9am on December 17th. He will be unarmed. The pistol is unregistered and untraceable. I don't think I have to tell you to be discreet, get in, get it done, and get out. There will be one-hundred-thousand dollars wired into your bank account for your trouble. Nice doing business with you Mr. Bradley—"
"Wait! Wait! Don't hang up..." Oliver cut across the voice, "please, just...tell me why—"
"You aren't the only one that wants Patrick Hart to die Mr. Bradley. But, seen as I'm not in the position to do it myself, I see that this is an adequate way. I get what I want, you get what you want and a cash bonus...everybody wins..."
The click indicated that whoever it was had hung up. Oliver listened to the dial tone for a few moments before slowly lowering the phone from his ear.
Maybe his wish of becoming a world-renowned photographer hadn't come true yet, but his wish for revenge sure was sure as hell on its way...
Present
Oliver Bradley advanced on the small, fourteen girl, blade in hand. The girl's dark eyes widened, her breathing hitched, fear written across her face.
"Oliver..." Deeks warned gently, "maybe it would be better if I did it?"
The ex-Lieutenant halted on his descent, the blade lowering to his side.
"Okay Marty, if you insist," he murmured, flipping the blade so that the handle faced Deeks.
The agent stared at it for a moment, finding it comforting that Oliver trusted him enough to give him a weapon, or maybe it was just that he didn't think he was stupid enough to attack a man with a bomb strapped to his chest...either way, it was a good sign.
Slowly, Deeks leaned down to the girl's level and looked her straight in the eye, offering her a soft smile.
"Hey sweetheart, this won't hurt a bit I promise, just keep your hand still for me," he murmured, lifting the knife and slipping it through the wrists of the young girl and the older woman she was bound to until it fell away.
"I'm sorry ma'am, it's only the first half for now, but I promise, it won't be long," he mumbled softly to the older woman before taking the young girl's hand and beginning to walk slowly towards the emergency exit, every bound person from the first half of the hostages following behind in a long, single-filed line.
Owen Granger watched from his position, one of his hands bound to the older woman who now had free right hand. The newly-appointed agent was so far doing a good job in keeping the situation relatively calm. The Deputy Director had been observing Bradley for over two hours now and couldn't help but notice that the man seemed to be waiting for something, almost casually, as if time weren't literally working against them. He hoped that Deeks or the rest of the NCIS team had picked up on this as he didn't want to jeopardize himself.
Meanwhile, Deeks was halting at the emergency exit, hoping that Monroe was still in position, ready to escort the hostages out. He had been quiet for the last while, but Deeks knew he was just being cautious. With Bradley securely in his peripheral vision, Deeks took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping back and gesturing for the young teenager to take the first step out.
"Go on, it's okay," he murmured, a small smile forming on his face as she nodded her thanks and took a few steps, her shoulders sagging in relief as she was hit with a breath of fresh air.
Off in the near distance, Deeks could see Monroe beginning to lead the hostages to safety. He offered him a nod before taking another step forward, waiting on the last person to step over the threshold. When they did, he leaned over and closed the emergency door.
"There," Bradley called, walking back over to stand under the camera, "half of the hostages are free. Now, am I gonna get my recording?"
Outside, Callen and the rest of the team watched as Monroe lead the twenty-five people towards the police tape. Once they had settled and begun to get their ties cut off, Callen replied:
"Yeah, you'll get your recording..."
He gestured to Nell to hit mute button for a moment. She did and she, Kensi and Eric all turned to catch the eye of everybody else.
"Question is," Kensi began, knowing why Callen was suddenly frowning, "what happens after he gets his recording?"
After a beat of silence, a familiar voice omitted from behind them.
"No, Ms Blye, the real question is, what is an out-of-commission agent doing at an active crime scene?"
Hetty Lange always did have impeccable timing...
It was the fifth time since he got here that Oliver Bradley checked his watch. It hadn't escaped his attention that this was a little drawn out, almost like he was...waiting. He wanted to question him about it and figured now was as good a time as any. He had just let half of the hostages go, the plan, whatever it was, was about to enter in to the next stage, so he may as well take advantage of that...
"One hour, two minutes and thirty-four seconds..." he called out, reading the timer that was steadily counting down.
Oliver turned to him, frowning before glancing down at his chest.
"You're right Marty; I better get a move on. Don't want to blow this place up before I get a chance to prove to the world just how much of monstrous bastard Captain Patrick Hart is..." he replied, ignoring Deeks' grimaced as his plan backfired, a spring in his step as he leaned down into Hart's face, gripping his silver hair and reefing his head back as far as he could to force him to look right up into his ears.
Hart barely winced at the pain or the sniffling from his wife and grandsons and the shouts of protest from his daughters. He merely sat back and let his gaze fall upon the man's face, a man that had once been a boy so full with pride for what he did, a boy with so much potential...
"You guys getting all this, Callen?"
"Loud and clear," the agent replied instantly from outside as he exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Hetty.
She wasn't particularly thrilled at Kensi's presence if her steely orbs and set mouth were anything to go by, but ultimately knew it was futile and a waste of time they didn't have to try and get her to leave. So, they all stood around the small fold-up table as Kensi, Eric and Nell sat, each and every gaze now on the large television screen that Eric commandeered from the RV, recording every second of the happenings in the function room of The Regency Hotel.
"Good..." Bradley murmured, running a blade lightly over Hart's throat, "because the good Captain here is going to tell us all a little story..."
Marty Deeks tried so hard to focus entirely on Bradley and his tirade on Hart but his attention kept getting caught by the soft sniffling coming from where Hart's family sat, the two young boys in particular.
They couldn't be any more than five and seven years old, if he were to guess. Each had large, tear drops falling from their eyes, their mother trying her best to shield them from the scene but they could still peek through, their little faces still seen, staring intently at their grandfather with a knife to his throat.
It was a sight that no child should ever see.
"Stop."
The word flew from his lips before he could stop it.
Outside, the team waited with bated breath.
"What the hell is he doing?" Sam muttered, looking to his partner.
"It's the kids," Kensi whispered, her eyes glued to Deeks, "he doesn't want them to see whatever happens next..."
"The boys," Deeks continued, his feet carrying him over to Oliver on their own accord, his brain scrambling to keep up, "please don't make them watch this, Oliver. Please. They have so much of their childhood left; don't take that from them..."
The blade on Hart's throat shook, Bradley's hand quivering so much that he dropped the blade, it crashing to the floor, it echoing around the room. His shoulders sunk, his entire face changing, his eyes travelling to the two young boys for the very first time, as if now only noticing their presence, sitting on the floor, huddled against their mother. Something broke in Bradley then, Deeks could see that. A dimness rose in his dark eyes, a...sadness. He was clearly no longer in the room, lost on memory lane, his mind no doubt thinking of his own brother...
Suddenly, Hart jumped, his hands inexplicably free from their ties, his left fist flinging out and connecting roughly with Bradley's jaw.
Deeks could only gape as the once-distracted Oliver was harshly spat back into reality by a bone-crunching punch to the face.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?! HE HAS A BOMB!" one of the hostages yelled, struggling against his bonds, chatter lowly rising between the people like the buzzing of angry bees.
Before anyone could reply, Oliver's own fist shot out and swung at Hart's jaw, smashing into it with enough force to knock the Captain from his seat, his body landing on the floor with a loud thump.
"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!" he shouted down at Hart, spit flying from his mouth, his eyes wild.
Deeks stepped forward, his hands rising at his sides.
"Oliver...Oliver it—"
"GET THEM OUTTA HERE! NOW!" he yelled, whirling on Deeks and pointing at Hart's family.
"IN FACT," he paused, turning on the spot and pointing at the other hostages lined along the wall, "GET THEM ALL OUTTA HERE!"
Deeks' eyebrows rose in shock.
"Oliver—"
"I thought I needed an audience, but you'll do. The whole world will know the truth soon anyway. There's no point in torturing innocent people any longer...it makes me no better than him..." Bradley murmured, his voice almost one of defeat.
"Go on!" he hissed, still looking down at Hart but talking to Deeks before turning his attention to the camera, "you heard me Callen, you're gettin' the rest of your damn hostages now!"
There was an eruption of noise as the rest of the hostages left their relief be heard.
"SHUT UP! NOT A DAMN WORD FROM ANY OF YOU OR I SWEAR..." he let his threat trail off, nobody needing any more description.
A silence descended on the room as Deeks took action, doing precisely as he did before, this time taking the older woman's hand from before and leading her to the door. After a beat, he opened the door and ushered her through, catching Monroe's eye.
Owen Granger paused in the doorway, a silent understanding passing between him and Deeks before he was forcefully pulled by the woman in front of him and pushed by the person behind him. The afternoon sun felt good on his face...
Outside, the NCIS team watched quietly as Monroe lead the other bound hostages over to where the initial half still stood getting debriefed by LAPD, their Deputy Director clearly seen in the crowd.
Deeks waited until the last bound hostage passed through the door before letting it close, turning on his heel and making his way over to Hart's family.
"Patrick! Patrick!" Mrs Elizabeth Hart was sobbing, her eyes trained on her husband who still lay on the floor.
"Ma'am," Deeks murmured gently, patting her elbow, "ma'am please, come with me, I need to get you to—"
"I'm not leaving without my husband!" she snarled, reefing her elbow away from Deeks as if scalded.
At a loss of what to do, the agent looked to the two Hart daughters, Robin in particular.
"Mom..." Robin spoke softly, nodding at Deeks before turning to her mother, "Marie and the boys need you now. Please...go...I'll stay with Daddy..."
Outside, Kensi heard Lieutenant Alex Johnson gasp.
"No! She can't!" he hissed, looking at the screen helplessly as his friend offered to stay in the building, unaware of the team of people around him, staring.
"Robin..." Marie murmured, looking to her little sister with wide, terrified eyes.
"Go, bring the boys..." Robin urged, helping her mom stand up, "Marty here will escort you to the door," she paused before dropping her voice to a whisper so Bradley couldn't hear, "we'll see you both soon..." she finished before hugging them tightly.
Reluctantly, they broke apart and the two Hart women and the little boys followed Deeks to the door, he reaching out to open it, nodding to Monroe once again, catching sight of Sam off in the distance, helping tend to the hostages.
Marie went through first, holding on to each boy's hand, nodding to Deeks in thanks. Elizabeth watched her daughter step out into the dim sunlight for a moment before suddenly gripping Deeks' arm, leaning in, her eyes wide and full with fresh tears, her voice shaking as she whispered:
"He's sick..." before pushing a pill bottle discreetly into his hand and bolting out the door, racing after her daughter, it evident that she was forcing herself not to look back.
Deeks subtly slipped the pill bottle into his jeans pocket before closing the door and turning on his heel, prepared to face the situation once again.
"What was that?" Kensi asked quietly, having seen the interaction, but just barely as it was nearly out of camera range, "what did she say to him?"
Nell shrugged, "the com didn't pick it up...it was too quiet but, it looked like she gave him something..."
Back inside, Deeks made his way over to Robin, sitting down beside her, listening intently as Hart spluttered on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Good. That meant he was still alive...
"So..." he murmured, staring up at Bradley, "what now?"
It had been a great plan. Fantastic, even. Beautiful in its simplicity. He would just show up at The Regency Hotel at 9am on December 17th, pose as a casual passerby as Hart's car pulled up outside and when it did, he'd shoot the bastard right between the eyes. The panic of hearing gunshots, would be enough to provide him an easy get-away, he could then ditch his dark jacket, sunglasses and hat and blend right back into the crowd, a new man.
It was the perfect crime.
But he just had to go and see that damn invitation.
Everything had been arranged, had been honed down to the finest detail up until then. He had an entry point and an exit strategy and it was wonderful. But, as soon as he realized why it was that Captain Patrick Hart was going to be in The Regency Hotel in the first place, all rational thought went out the window.
He was actually getting a ceremony in his honor?
The man that caused so much pain and didn't own up to it?
No. Hell no. Not if he had anything to do with it...
So, he devised a new plan with telling Mr Mysterious Phone Guy. It may be more complex, messier, but at least, this way, justice would be done. When he was finished, the whole world would know that Patrick Hart was a murderer of an innocent young woman and caused the suicide of an innocent young man.
And then Oliver Bradley could be at peace.
"Time's nearly up Hart, so how's about you start talkin' huh? I promised NCIS you'd tell them a story and I'm a man of my word," the ex-Lieutenant murmured into Hart's ear as he lifted him up back into his seat, leaving his hands untied. He wasn't stupid enough to try and attack him again.
"Come on Captain, you tell the world what it needs to know, and maybe, just maybe, I let your little girl live..." he hissed, running the blade along his captive's jaw, his eyes trained on Robin.
"I don't...negotiate with terrorists..." Hart gasped.
Bradley erupted in laughter then, hysterical, manic laughter. Deeks and Robin exchanged a worried glance as they watched him begin to pace in front of them.
"I may look like a terrorist Hart but...I don't mess with innocent people's lives," he smiled, jabbing the blade through the air.
"You have a bomb with enough C4 to take out four blocks strapped to your chest and you don't think that's messing with innocent people's lives?" Hart responded, having regained his breath, his voice steely.
Oliver chuckled, peeling open his jacket, a remote-control detonator visibly attached to the inside of his chest-pocket visible again.
Deeks gasped. He had that all along?!
Outside, the NCIS exchanged anxious glances, Kensi biting her bottom lip. The stakes were just irrevocably raised.
"Theatrics," Oliver dismissed with a wave before pausing pensively, "what was it you always said, Captain? If your enemy is large, fool them into thinking you're larger?"
Deeks frowned at that, wondering if the team were thinking along the same lines as he.
"Not all of that C4 is real, is it?" Hart apparently jumped to the same conclusion.
"No," Oliver shook his head, a smirk playing about his lips, "just enough, though. Enough to bring down this one hotel with you, me, the good agent and your beautiful daughter and really...Captain...isn't that enough?"
At Hart's silence, he continued:
"Now, I could have told you about the detonator earlier but...I figure, what was the point? A count-down is always more dramatic isn't it? It really gives you time to think...to reflect...but you know what Hart? I'm done giving you time. You either start talking right now or I press this button and blow this place to smithereens, count-down or no count-down..." he trailed off, letting his jacket close.
"Bradley," Callen chimed in, "you don't—"
"You know, Agent Callen, it's been nice and all but I'm done with you being in my ear..." he said before plucking out the com and placing it on the table beside him.
"Now, I know you can still hear everything so, we'll carry on if you don't mind..."
Deeks stared at the com, then at the camera, an ominous feeling rising in his gut. The atmosphere had shifted in the room, it appeared as if Bradley had reached the end of his tether, no longer wanting to listen to reason...that was not good.
"I think I've been patient enough Captain," he said, stepping towards Deeks and Robin, "but an imminent bomb count-down doesn't seem to be fazing you so let's try another tactic—"
He pounced, catching Robin by the throat and holding the knife up against her flesh, digging it in to near piercing point.
"No!" Hart hissed.
"Yes," Bradley nodded as Deeks' brain whirled with possibilities, frantically trying to think of a way out of this.
Suddenly, words just started falling from his lips:
"Oliver, I know what it's like, man. To have someone you look up to, someone you respect let you down so much. I was a cop for ten years, worked shoulder to shoulder with what I thought were good men, only to find out that one of them helped cover up the murder of my friend..." he trailed off, his brain reeling a mile a minute.
Bradley stilled.
"And what did you do?"
Deeks' mouth opened and closed for a moment, he feeling oddly like a fish.
"Well I—I didn't do anything like this...my team and I got the two men responsible and threw them in jail..."
Oliver laughed again, it as hearty as last time.
"You think I didn't think of that, genius? But they just covered it up...he and his other Navy buddies. It makes me sick. Kevin knew, knew that you were responsible for Medina's death but you still sit there denying it, even when I have a blade to your own daughter's throat...just how important is your precious career to you, Hart? Just how far do I have to go to get you to give up the ghost, huh? HOW FAR?!" he roared, dragging the blade across Robin's collar-bone forcefully, it leaving a fresh crimson trail in its wake.
"STOP!" Hart and Deeks yelled in unison as Robin cried out in pain, her hand clasped over her wound.
Oliver did stop. He froze, in fact. Staring down at Robin as if he had no idea what just happened. A shadow passed over his face, one of horror and deep shame...
"I never wanted it to come to this, you know..." he whispered, catching Deeks' eye, his orbs shining with unshed tears.
"I've been angry for such a long time. At my brother, at Hart...at myself. And I'm not gonna lie Marty, part of me is enjoying making this bastard suffer. But I never wanted it to come to this. Not really. I guess...I was blinded by revenge and I knew there was other way but this to get him to admit what he did..." he mumbled, glancing to Hart whose head was hung lowly.
"Okay..." the Captain sighed, raising his head, his eyes gluing to his daughter that Deeks was now tending to, "just please, don't hurt my daughter, don't hurt either of them...I—I'll tell you what you need to know..."
Five Years Earlier...
He couldn't get it out of his mind. Two large, green eyes, full to the brim with tears, they streaming down her rose cheeks in quick succession as she sobbed and sobbed.
"I'm so sorry for your loss Mrs Bradley," he murmured softly, offering her another tissue.
"T-Thank you..." she stuttered, nodding politely and taking the tissue from him.
"You-you say that my boy...my Kevin he...committed suicide?" she whispered, her large, olive eyes lowered to the floor.
"Yes ma'am, it's such a tragedy..." he replied, a frown creasing his eyebrows.
"And—and Oliver? When—when can I bring him home?" she asked, her gaze hopeful as she blew her nose.
"He's still in the infirmary Mrs Bradley, he—he's in shock. You can take him home as soon as he's feeling up to it and we sign off on all his paperwork. I—he is being Honorably Discharged..."
The elder woman gasped at that.
"What—what for? Oliver loves the Navy he-he's a good—"
"Your son has had a wondrous career here Mrs Bradley but...in light of recent events we...deem it necessary that Lieutenant Bradley step down from his Naval duties...I'm afraid that's all I can divulge."
And that's that.
Another twenty minutes later, Captain Patrick Hart finally waved Mrs Bradley off, offering his condolences once again before shutting his door gently. Slowly, he stepped back over to his desk and sat down, massaging his temples with his hands.
The headaches had been getting steadily worse. It was only a matter of time now before they got so bad that he'd have to step down...perhaps that was for the best. After everything that had happened in the last few weeks, he wasn't sure he wanted to do this job anymore.
Before he could properly dwell on that depressing thought, his old friend John Klein let himself into his office.
"I saw Mrs Bradley," he said as a means of hello, "how did it go?"
Patrick heaved a sigh, waving for Klein to take a seat.
"About as bad as I thought it would. She's such a sweet woman...I can't help but think—"
"Patrick," John's warning tone interjected, "you can't keep going over this. You made a judgement call...you sent in those men because that's where Zaid was. Because of you, our men tore apart a terrorist cell—"
"Because of me, a young, innocent woman working for the Peace Corps was killed!" Hart hissed, thumping his desk in frustration.
"Collateral damage is a part of the job Patrick," Klein murmured, stricken by his friend's outburst.
"She was a young, American woman trying to make a difference and because of a case of mistaken identity, she was gunned down. Because I mistakenly identified her as one of Zaid's and gave them the green light to..." he trailed off, burying his face in his hands.
"Kramer took care of it...it was ruled an accident, neither you nor the Navy is liable..." Klein replied.
"Don't you get it?" Hart murmured into his hands, "I didn't want Kramer to 'take care of it.' That poor woman's family will never be the same because of me! She was Robin's age John she—she had her whole life ahead of her and...Kevin Bradley—he loved her. He knows what really happened and that's...that's why he did what he did. So, not only am I responsible for an innocent civilian's death but I'm also to blame for my own Lieutenant's death and my other Lieutenant's dismissal all because this damn tumor mixes me up!" he hissed, pushing papers and books and stationary off his desk in anger.
They both watched as they crashed to the floor.
After a moment's silence, Hart whispered:
"I should have resigned as soon as I got the diagnosis. I should have taken the mediation at least. But I didn't...and now two innocent people are dead and countless other's lives ruined..."
Present
Marty Deeks, Robin Hart, Oliver Bradley, the NCIS team, Nate Getz and Alex Johnson all stared at Patrick Hart as he finished telling the tale, hanging his head in shame.
"I'm so sorry..." he whispered to the floor.
Oliver stared at him, frozen on the spot as he finally heard the words he'd waited half a decade to hear.
"Kevin he...he loved her so much. She was half-American half-Iraqi so she said she wanted to join the Peace Corps from when she was a kid. She was a beautiful, smart, amazing woman and she's dead because of you..." he said softly, his eyes glued to his old superior.
"Yes," Patrick Hart nodded.
"And my brother...he confronted you, realized it was a lost cause, he could never prove what really happened. He was in so much pain, lost the woman he loved and killed himself because of you..." Oliver continued just as softly.
"Yes," Hart nodded again.
"And I lost my career, years of my life and did all of this because of you..." Oliver finished, dropping the blade stained with Robin's blood on the floor.
"Yes," the Captain gave one final nod.
A silence engulfed the room. You could hear a pin drop, nobody dared breathe.
With a bite of his lip, Oliver turned on his heel and walked over to where the ear bud was left on the table. Slowly, he picked it up and put it back in his ear.
"You guys get all that?" he asked, glancing up at the camera.
The NCIS team stared back at him on the television screen, still shocked by Hart's confession.
"Yeah Bradley," Callen said after a moment, "we got it..."
At that confirmation, Oliver nodded, satisfied, picked the com out of his ear and nonchalantly dropped it on the hard-wood floor.
The team grimaced at the screeching noise.
"We still got audio?" Sam asked.
"Barely..." Eric replied as everybody turned their attention back to the screen.
Bradley stared at the com on the ground for a moment before glancing once again at his watch.
"That call isn't coming Oliver..." Patrick murmured suddenly, looking up and staring straight into his eyes.
"What?" he gaped, "how did you—"
"It isn't coming...because you didn't stick to the plan," Hart continued, anger shining in his eyes.
"It was simple...walk up, shoot me between the eyes, walk away. Tell me, what was so damn difficult about that?!"
Deeks and Robin gaped between the two of them, not knowing what was happening. It was if Hart was morphing into another person right before their very eyes.
"Oh no..." Robin mumbled under her breath as she pressed Deeks' make-shift bandage he made from a piece off his shirt to her chest.
"What?" Deeks whispered to her, "what's—"
"I mean," Hart stood up suddenly, with such force that it knocked the chair over, "how inept do you have to be to fail at a simple execution? You were in the Navy for Christ's sake!"
Oliver gasped, a look of realization passing across his face.
"What is he talking about, Oliver?" Deeks asked, feeling like he was trying to complete a puzzle with a few pieces missing.
"I'm not...I'm not the only one that wants him dead. They—they're the ones that started all this...they used me," Bradley replied, not looking at Deeks, his eyes glued to Hart.
"Who used you?"
"The guy on the phone. He knew my hatred for Hart and used it against me. Used it to make me do his dirty work for him."
"Somebody hired you to kill Patrick Hart?"
"Yeah. I was supposed to shoot him between the eyes before he got to the ceremony but...I thought I'd add my own flair. I wasn't letting the bastard die so easily, not without exposing him...how—you knew the whole time?" he asked Hart, his eyes wide with shock.
Now it was the Captain's turn to laugh, although to everyon'es ears it just sounded tragic as he hissed:
"Who do you think called you, genius?!"
Everybody, inside the room and out, froze at those words.
"There was no way I was gonna let cancer take me. I survived two tours, severe injuries and countless hours with no good, selfish jackasses that had no respect for the job. If I could do all that, achieve all that, there was no way I was going out a sick, frail old man and suicide was never an option. So, one day, I thought...who on this godforsaken planet hates me more than I hate myself?"
Oliver was becoming more and more disturbed as Hart went on, stepping closer and closer to him. Robin and Deeks could only watch, horrified and fascinated by the turn of events simultaneously.
"I owed it to you. If anyone deserved to pull the trigger on me, it was you, Oliver. But no, just like when you were enlisted, you couldn't follow the damn plan!"
"Dad!" Robin yelled, bolting up off the floor, ignoring her wound and advancing on him, seeing the dangerous gleam in Oliver's eye.
"Dad stop this, please, it's the cancer, the tumor, it makes you...it makes you act— not like yourself, please just..."
"No Robin, he has to hear this, one way or another. We only have what," Hart paused to glance at the timer, "thirteen minutes to live, might as well clear the air..."
"Oliver please," Robin turned to Bradley, her eyes shining, "please don't listen to anything he says. He—he hasn't taken his medication and—and for a while now he's been getting these mood-swings and he doesn't even remember what happens afterwards. Please, let us go, you don't have to kill us! He confessed! Your brother—"
"Don't you dare talk about my brother!" Oliver hissed picking up the pistol from the table and aiming it at her.
Deeks' stared at the black bag about thirty feet from him that contained his gun. If he could just get to it...bomb or no bomb, it was time for some weaponry.
"Oliver..." he called, "you don't want to hurt Robin; that has never been your goal. You wanna know how I know your goal isn't to hurt innocent people? You contained all this to one room. You could have taken over the entire hotel but you didn't. You gave the other people a chance to get away. You didn't bind the people in here to their seats; you didn't abuse them verbally or physically...because underneath all the anger you're still a good guy, Oliver. You're still the upstanding Lieutenant you always were..."
Bradley stared at Deeks, his pistol now moving from Robin to Patrick.
"I hate him," he growled with as much conviction as he could muster, "I hate him because he gave the order for them to go in. And they shot Medina for being 'a threat.' She was eating dinner! She had a bread-knife in her hand! Kevin just never got over it and...and he killed himself, right there in front of me. And YOU," Oliver yelled suddenly, jabbing the gun in Patrick's direction, "YOU DID NOTHING! You stood there and held my mother's hand as she cried and told her about how wonderful Kevin was and how good of an Officer he was and when you brought me into your office that day and gave me your condolences all I wanted to reach across the desk and choke the air from your lungs!"
Hart stared at him, seemingly beginning to calm down again.
"But no," Bradley continued, "after all that you still wanted me to do the dirty work for you, huh? You wanted me to take your life because you couldn't. You just couldn't do that to your family, couldn't shame them, couldn't put them through the pain Kevin put my family through. So what? You thought that you'd get what you want and try to offer me some sick closure, is that it? What if I got caught huh? I'd just go down for murder? Well, regardless, I'm pretty screwed now. But, while I'm here, I might as well do the job you paid me for," he raised the gun at Patrick's chest.
"No!" Deeks yelled.
A shot rang out just as Deeks' body collided with Bradley's.
"Oh my god..." Kensi gasped as she watched her partner jump on a man strapped with a bomb, the sound of a gunshot piercing her very soul.
This couldn't be happening...not now...not after everything they'd been through...
Patrick Hart's eyes widened as he sunk to the floor, blood dripping from his body.
"Dad!" Robin screamed, catching him before he could fall fully, her foot accidently standing on the com, crushing it.
"What just happened? Why can't we hear anything?!" Kensi exclaimed, looking from Eric to Nell and back again.
Meanwhile, Deeks was wrestling the gun from Oliver's grasp, ever aware of the detonator that lay within his jacket pocket.
"It's—it's over Oliver just—" the gun fell to the floor with a loud thump, but that was not what caught Deeks' attention.
Bradley glared up at him, tears in his eyes as he now clutched the detonator in his grasp, his thumb hovering over the button.
"We have to do something! Send in the bomb squad or—"
"Everybody stay back!" Callen's yell to the rest of the law enforcement that were left in the immediate area, interrupting Kensi whose heart was hammering a mile a minute.
"Callen! He's going to blow up that hotel! We have to get Deeks and the others the hell outta there!" Kensi continued, standing up, ignoring the pain in her abdomen and fighting the urge to shake him.
"Mr Deeks has things under control Ms Blye," Hetty said, her voice calmer than she felt.
"Oliver," Deeks murmured, leaping up off him and kneeling at his feet as the ex-lieutenant stood up, "Oliver please, I'm begging you. Don't do this. Let Robin take her father to the hospital and let all of us walk out of here alive, please...it doesn't have to end like this..."
Bradley slowly shook his head.
"I got what I needed Marty, I'm at peace now. Hart confessed and got what he deserved—"
"Then it's over! You—you don't have to blow up anybody. Please, don't—don't you have anyone to live for—"
"My mom has Alzheimer's, I doubt she'll know if I'm gone..." he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.
Deeks took a deep breath. Okay, time to change tactic.
"Okay, I hate to play this card but man...Robin has people to live for. I have people to live for," the agent gasped, it hitting him suddenly that this could very well be it.
This could be the moment he was dreading. The moment where he realized that he wasn't coming back from this one. This was his last case, these were his last breaths...
And all he could think about was her.
"Please," he mumbled, wiping the blood from his temple (when did he get cut?) as he stared up at Bradley who had begun to sweat profusely.
"Please, let me make just one phone call. It's very important...there's someone out there that needs to know how much I love her."
Oliver stared at him, seeing the desperation etched on his face, seeping from every inch of his body. After a beat, he gave a very slight nod.
With shaking hands, Deeks retrieved his cell phone, biting his lip, pushing down the tears that wanted to break free and forcing himself to press number 1 on his speed dial. With a sigh, he waited as it rang and rang and rang...
Robin Hart cradled her father's head in her lap as she watched Marty plead with Oliver. She didn't think they were getting out of this. There was only six minutes left on Bradley's timer and help wasn't coming...
"Daddy...Daddy please, stay with me," she whispered, stifling her tears and pressing her hands to the large wound on his chest.
"Robin..." Patrick breathed, his eyes landing on his beautiful daughter, "I'm...I'm so proud of you..."
"No Daddy please...don't talk like that..." the tears were flowing freely now, she couldn't stop them.
"Oh baby...it's okay...I don't feel any pain...for the first time since...since I got my...diagnosis. This...is what...what I want..." he murmured softly, "tell your mom...and...and your sister and nephews that...that I love them..."
"No, you can tell them yourself," she said adamantly, wiping a stray hair off his forehead with her other hand.
"And...and keep that boy Johnson...he's good for you..." he smiled gently.
Robin couldn't help but let out a choked laugh.
"You—you knew?" she gaped.
"Honey please...I'm your father...give me some...credit," he whispered, squeezing her hand.
Hi, you've reached Special Agent Kensi Blye, please leave a message after the beep...
Deeks' heart sank as he got her answering machine. But, it was either this or die without her ever knowing...time to say the words that were four years in the making, he'd run out of perfect moments:
"Hey Kens..." he breathed, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek. "I—I never imagined that I...I'd be making this call. I—I don't even know where to begin but and god knows I practiced this enough times and I'm rambling sorry I—I shouldn't be rambling. This...this is supposed to be one of the most important things I ever say in my life and I'm screwing it up. Sorry. I—" he broke off, dragging a palm down his face.
"What is he doing? Who is he talking to?!" Kensi gasped from her position in front of the screen outside, "is he calling for help? Did Bradley disarm the bomb?"
Back inside, Deeks was trying to compose himself.
"Kensi I...I have four minutes to live, maybe less so I'll try to keep this brief...well, I guess I'll have to, won't I?" he let out a little laugh, wondering if he waited until the very last moment of his life to finally lose his mind.
"I—I've never been too great with uh...expressing my feelings, I mean, I'm not as bad as you and wow...sorry that—that's not what I'm—ignore that. I—" he broke off, letting out a little puff of air in frustration.
"There aren't words, Kensi, that's the problem with us. There aren't words to describe what we have so...so that's why this isn't going so swimmingly. And yes, I just said swimmingly. I'm no character from a John Hughes movie so there will be no boom boxes or confessions over breakfast or whatever the hell The Breakfast Club is about. Can you believe I've never seen that movie? I was always too afraid to tell you just in case my punishment would be ten viewings of Pretty in Pink like I was repenting and it was the Bible...
"Man, I really suck at this, huh? I wish I had some rom-com writer to feed me the lines Kens but...I can't be fake with you. You always make me want to be the best me I can be and if that means the more annoying me then so be it. You complement me and I complement you. I think that's why our partnership works as well as it does. You're Ying and I'm Yang and even though that sounds like some weird type of sushi it—it makes sense. We make sense, Kensi. Us, together..." he paused, biting his lip, his eyes falling shut.
"You asked me once what I was going to say to you that night you got shot and...and honestly, whatever I was going to say would probably have gone as horribly as this is so for that, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of other things too...I'm sorry that I have to leave this message at all. I'm sorry I have to leave you but...just know Kens, that I would never, ever leave on purpose, ever. You'd be stuck with me and I can hear your eyes rolling right about now..."
The beep omitted from the phone, alerting Deeks that he was running out of time.
The irony was not lost on him.
"Okay Kens...that's my cue. I just called to say...you're...you're the woman I jump into showers fully clothed for. You're the woman I cook dessert for dinner for. You're the woman I would follow anywhere she asked and stand proudly next to. You're the woman I'm not only proud to call my partner, my colleague, but my best friend. You're the woman I...I've fallen in love with...so, I guess I called to say I love you, just like the song says...in case you didn't figure that out already. And yeah, I know Stevie Wonder would be pissed if he heard what I just said...okay, bye partner..."
The ex-liaison lowered the phone from his ear, a great weight lifting from his shoulders and settling onto his heart. At least now, she knew. She wouldn't have to spend the rest of her life wondering what he really felt for her...
A wave of sadness washed over him. They say, whoever 'they' are, that when you're at the brink of death, your life flashes before your eyes. But for Deeks, what was actually happening, were the moments that he would miss out on.
His and Kensi's first proper kiss as a couple. Their first date. The day they moved in together. The day he finally plucked up the courage to ask her the question she knew he'd been planning for months because he could never hide anything from her. The moment where he'd see her walking steadily up the aisle, looking so beautifully angelic in her very own (what was sure to be) kickass version of a wedding dress. He saw the babies he would have with her, a perfect mixture of them both. Her amazing cheekbones and warm eyes, his fluffy hair and cheeky grin. They would be fun and smart and kickass and just a little mischievous to keep their parents on their toes...and it would be the best years of his life.
Except in reality, he only had two minutes, forty seconds to live.
"Go..." Oliver's voice spat him out of his very last reverie suddenly.
"W-What?" Deeks gaped.
"You heard me, get going, take the girl with you. I'm not like Hart, I'm not causing the pain he caused by taking someone away from the person they love so much...go..." he gestured to the door before turning his back on him.
Deeks didn't need to be told twice.
He leapt up off the floor, but instead of running for Robin, he bolted for the back, snatched up his gun before lunging at Oliver, kicking him in the shin and snatching the detonator from his quickly but carefully.
"What are you—"
Deeks smashed the butt of the gun into Oliver's face, rendering him unconscious. Gently, he sprawled Oliver's limp arms over his head and inched the jacket up his body, before pulling the Kevlar up over his head. Slowly, he held out the jacket out in front of him, and padded over the table, gently depositing it on the table.
He blew out a breath when the timer continued to count down. 00:02:33...32...31...
The team watched from the monitor outside, shocked into silence at what their colleague just did.
"Come on Deeks," Kensi murmured under her breath, gripping the edge of her seat, "get outta there..."
Scrambling back over to Oliver's unconscious form, Deeks bent down, grabbed him around the waist and heaved him up over his shoulder and turned to Robin, yelling:
"Come on Robin, this place is gonna blow!"
"I'm not leaving my dad!" she screamed.
Frantically, Deeks looked around for anything that could help them to carry out the injured man. A grateful smile graced his face when his eyes landed on the dessert table at the corner of the room that appeared to have wheels.
Plonking Oliver down in one of the chairs, he raced towards the table, swept the dishes off it and grabbed it with both hands, wheeling it rapidly towards Robin and Patrick, trying to ignore the large pool of blood on the floor.
"Okay, help me," he gasped as he put his hand behind Patrick's back and tilting him upwards.
The man cried out in pain but Deeks and Robin just worked as quickly as possible to heave him up. After a few agonizing moments and one final pull, Patrick was laid flat out on the table.
"Go! Now!" Deeks yelled, his eyes darting to the timer...00:00:32...31...30...
"But—"
"GO!"
Robin took off in a sprint, pushing the table with all her might towards the emergency exit doors as Deeks raced towards Oliver. Just as he was wrapping his arms around his waist to lift him up, he awoke, groaning and pushing at him.
"Oliver—stop!"
"No! I'm not going—" Deeks stumbled back as Oliver shoved him.
00:00:19...
18...
17...
"Deeks! DEEKS!" a voice was yelling somewhere in the distance.
He frowned. Huh...that sounded oddly like—
His train of thought was cut off when his fist suddenly flew out, punching Oliver in the face on its own accord. Before his brain could catch up, he was pulling him up off the chair and dragging him towards the door...it mere feet away.
05...
He could see the sky outside.
04...
He could see his team in the near distance, they yelling and waving...
03...
He could hear a beautifully familiar voice calling his name.
02...
He could see tousled brunette hair fluttering in the breeze...her beautiful face stricken and pained...
01...
The ground erupted underneath him, a tremendous boom blowing out his ear-drums, lifting his and Oliver's bodies up into the air...
And then he could see nothing...
"DEEKS!" a voice cried out as the ground shook beneath her feet, the vibration blowing out the windows in the hotel and setting off car alarms and raining shades of glass like lethal snow-fall, thick black smoke omitting from the building as it was engulfed in flames.
It took Kensi three seconds to realize that it was her voice; she was the one that was yelling as she started to sprint towards the hotel, only to have a sharp pain in her abdomen knock the wind out of her, she doubling over in pain.
"Kensi! Kensi, stay back!" Sam raced after her, grabbing her arm.
"Can—can you see him?! Where is he, Sam?!" she whirled around, her eyes wide in horror as she saw the fire fighters begin their trek towards the building.
"We'll find him Kensi, he got out, we saw him run through the door, he's out..." he reassured her with a squeeze to her shoulder as the scene began to grow more chaotic around them.
"H-He was far enough away from the blast right? He can't be too hur—" her voice died in her throat, her gaze frozen as she saw the medics rush into the clouds of rising smoke.
For five agonizing minutes, she stood stock-still, Sam, Callen, Hetty, Nell, Eric and Nate joining her, watching with desperate eyes, waiting for something, anything...
Just when she was about to break free and run after the medics (injury be damned) the two gurneys were pushed though the black smog, a mound of dusty flaxen hair visible on one. It took every ounce of strength in the agent not to bound over to it like a bat out of hell, instead, she followed it with her eyes and after a quick, knowing glance from Hetty, she walked briskly over to the ambulance.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she drank in her partner's form, his skin covered in dust, ash and debris, marred with scratches. His arm also was lying at an odd angle...it was definitely broken.
But he was breathing...
"Deeks...Deeks...come on, wake up, please," a voice breathed softly into his ear.
With a groan, he struggled to open his eyes, they feeling a ton weight.
"Come on partner," a finger gently poked him in the shoulder.
"K-Kens?" he croaked, his light orbs fluttering, a sharp pain in his head jarring him suddenly awake.
"Ugh, I feel like there's a rave going on inside my head," he muttered as his eyes tried to focus.
He shifted on the gurney, a sharp pain shooting up his left arm.
"My arm hurts too," he hissed, grimacing.
"Well, you did kinda get blown up..." she reminded him as if he'd forgotten.
Her face, the face he'd been longing to see suddenly swam in front of him, a little warped, a little fuzzy but clear enough to cause the familiar fluttering of butterflies in his stomach.
"Hart? Bradley?" he asked, trying to sit up.
"Hey—hey—lay back down," her hand came up to his shoulder, gently pushing him back down.
"Hart was rushed to hospital, his pulse was weak but he was hanging on. You shielded Bradley from any harm when the bomb went off so he was taken immediately into custody...you got out just in time..." she trailed off, trying to shove the horrid memory of watching the timer count down and he still being in the building.
"How—how are you even here?" he whispered, a strong wave of emotion welling up behind his eyes as he stared at her tired but smiling face, one that he never thought he'd get to see ever again.
"You really think you could walk into a bomb-rigged building without me knowing about it?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.
Before he could respond, Sam and Callen came to the open ambulance door, knocking loudly.
"Sleeping beauty awakes," the former smirked and the latter folded his arms, squinting at him.
"Only Deeks could have a first day on the job that ends up in the destruction of public property," he said to his partner as Kensi and Deeks stared at them.
"Yeah, good job Agent Deeks," Sam grinned, "if this is how your first case went, I'm not sure I wanna stick around for the second..."
Deeks opened his mouth to defend his honor when a familiar voice jumped in for him:
"On the contrary Mr Hanna, if the calibre of Mr Deeks' work continues to be as it was today, it would be in your interest to 'stick around,'" Hetty Lange said pointedly, coming to stand in between her two agents, but it was not her presence that caught everyone's attention.
There, standing behind the Operations Manager stood Deputy Director Owen Granger, looking a little rumpled but otherwise unharmed, his dark eyes boring a hole into Deeks' skull. The blond swallowed nervously, he sharing a quick glance with his partner before bracing himself for the worst.
"Looks like you were right Hetty..." he turned to his old friend, not addressing the ex-detective, "Agent Deeks is more than capable for the job..."
And with that, he turned on his heel and began to walk away.
"But I think," he called over his shoulder without a backwards glance, "learning some bomb-defusing techniques might come in useful for next time..."
The team stared after their boss for a moment before turning back to Deeks who heaved a small sigh.
"For the record, I would have settled for a 'good job, Deeks.'"
"Okay, hold on a sec," Kensi Blye murmured as she and Marty Deeks halted outside her door.
"And why can't I go back to my apartment?" he enquired for the tenth time in the last hour.
"Because, your mom is staying at my mom's place tonight and the doctor said you can't be alone. And for obvious reasons, neither can I. So, sorry, you're stuck here," she tilted her head at him, unlocking the door, stepping in and holding it open for him.
"And they say chivalry is dead," he murmured sarcastically as he squeezed by her, wincing as he jostled his injured arm.
"Why is my mom staying at Julia's place?" he asked, his voice lacing with confusion.
Kensi closed the door behind them and looked towards the kitchen.
"Well, your mom called your phone when you were getting checked out by the doctor so I answered. She said something about going a little overboard with the Christmas shopping and wanting to wrap your present and hide it somewhere you can't find it. Apparently, my mom is doing the same thing for me," she shook her head in amusement, her face falling when she noticed the wince on her partner's face.
"I'll go get you some water so you can take your pain meds, stay right there," she murmured before turning on heel and making her way into the kitchen.
"You know," his voice floated in from the living room as she poured him a glass of water, "I think the worst thing we ever did was let those two become chummy. I have a feeling they're gonna plot for world domination any day now..."
Kensi chuckled, about to reply when a quiet beeping caught her attention. Confused, she glanced around for the source of the noise, only for her eyes to land on her cell phone that sat on her kitchen table.
"Huh," she mumbled under her breath, realizing that in her haste to get to the hotel she had forgotten all about it.
As she picked it up, she noticed that the beep was alerting her to a voicemail she'd received. With a quick glance towards the door and not hearing any troubling noises from Deeks, she pressed the button and held the phone up to her ear.
"Hey Kens...I—I never imagined that I...I'd be making this call."
Her heart lurched in her chest, her mouth dropping open in shock...
Marty Deeks' cerulean eyes glanced around the place, wondering where exactly in this organized chaos his partner called a living room was the remote. It had been one hell of a long-ass day and all he wanted was to sit back, relax and enjoy some mindless drivel with Kensi until his tired and aching body decided that it was time for sleep.
After as much of a thorough search as he could manage in his injured state, the newly-appointed agent was going to give up when he seen the offending device sitting on the little table beside the door. With a triumphant smirk, he trudged over and picked it up just as he heard his partner's footsteps omit from behind him, alerting him to her presence.
"Seriously Kens, what kinda place is that to keep the remote? Why don't—" his voice died in his throat as he turned around to face her only to see her cell phone raised to her ear, her eyes as round as saucers, her face ghostly white.
Oh my god...
In all the commotion after the bomb, he had completely forgotten about the call.
Kensi stepped towards him, an unreadable expression on her face.
Fear rose in Deeks' gut as he stepped back.
But she kept moving forward, slowly but steadily, staring right into his eyes, right into his soul...
Deeks took another step backwards, only to find that he was pressed up against the door. There was nowhere for him to go...
He was unable to tear his eyes away from her as she took one last step towards him as she lowered the phone from her ear.
Deeks began to panic, terrified that he had made a huge mistake. Maybe he had misread everything. Maybe he just made the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe he just ruined the most important relationship he ever had...
It was time for damage control.
"Kensi I can—"
She cut him off by leaning in and pressing her lips to his. His brain short-circuited; he was unable to think of anything but how soft they felt. As if on auto-pilot, his uninjured hand came to rest on her cheek as his lips parted, deepening the kiss. She stepped even closer to him, her hand clutching the back of his neck, her fingers running though his hair as he licked her bottom lip, begging for entrance. They could feel each other's smiles as their hearts beat in unison, both frantic with excitement. It was amazing.
But, the need for oxygen soon forced them to part, but not far, their foreheads resting against each other as they fought to catch their breath.
"Wow..." Deeks gasped, his hand moving from her cheek and trailing down her arm softly.
She slapped it away suddenly.
"Ow! Kens—"
"You are such an idiot!" she growled, her eyes opening and glaring at him, they flashing with anger.
Deeks gaped at her as she slapped his uninjured shoulder in frustration.
"You nearly got yourself blown up and you thought sending me a goodbye voicemail bearing your heart to me would be okay?! God Deeks I—I've been driving myself crazy these last few weeks, months, years trying to—trying to make sense of everything that has happened between us. I—I was trying to convince myself that it was just some...dream I had deluded myself into believing! I couldn't let myself believe that it was real, even after everything that happened! But then you go and just blurt it all out over the phone! What the hell would I have done if you died, huh? Was I just supposed to be content with your dying confession? Have you any idea what hearing that after your death would have done to me!?" she pushed him into the door, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek.
Deeks' eyes widened, trying to find the right words.
"Kens I...I'm sorry. I just—I just couldn't die knowing that you didn't know how I—" she cut him off again, her hand coming up to press against his mouth.
"No Deeks, it's my turn," she whispered before inching closer, trying to calm her nerves.
"Now what was it you said? Oh yeah I suck at expressing my feelings—"
"Kensi—"
"Shut up," she pressed her hand harder against his lips, "and yeah, you're right, I do suck at this but...I'll do my best," she took a deep breath, staring straight into his familiar, warm eyes.
Suddenly, as they looked into each other's eyes, it didn't seem so difficult for her to speak.
"You're future-Deeks," she said suddenly, the words tumbling from her lips.
Deeks could do nothing but stare at her quizzingly.
"You're..." she bit her lip, the dream from the night she was shot fresh in her mind.
"You're future-Deeks. Not past-Deeks, but a mixture of present and future Deeks," she continued, feeling a little foolish, her eyes trailing to the floor as she lifted her hand from his mouth.
There was a beat of silence until Deeks reached down to clasp her hand, squeezing it gently.
"Are you still high?" he asked, a small smirk on his face.
She shook her head at him in annoyance, rolling her eyes.
"Deeks I—"
"I hear what you're saying Kens...and I want you to know, that you're...you're future-Kensi," he whispered, nudging her chin with his knuckle, silently begging her to look at him.
She slowly raised her head, her heart finally slowing down as his words washed over her.
Hope rose in her veins.
"Looks like it only took me getting shot and you getting blown up for us to finally stop kidding ourselves," she whispered, her eyes falling closed as his breath bounced off her cheek.
"Looks like..." he murmured, "now do I get to finally kiss you or are you gonna ambush me again?"
She let out a quiet laugh, not opening her eyes, just waiting.
Marty Deeks had never seen a more beautiful sight.
Slowly, gently, he leaned forward and captured her lips, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He let out a gasp as she bit his bottom lip playfully, a low heat pooling in his stomach as she let out the tiniest groan as she pressed against him.
Pain shot through his arm causing him to jump back, breaking the kiss.
"Oh crap sorry!" she apologized, unwrapping her arms from him quickly only to grimace at the ache in her abdomen.
It didn't go unmissed by Deeks.
"Guess we're both...a little roughed up huh?" he smirked.
"Yeah, I think we need to go to bed," she said without thinking.
He arched his eyebrow.
"Oh you know what I mean!" she scolded, "sleep Deeks, we need sleep..." she trailed off, taking his hand in hers and walking backwards.
Deeks followed obediently, wondering if he'd somehow already fallen asleep and he was actually dreaming all this.
His heart skipped a beat when Kensi turned, still keeping his hand in hers and opened her bedroom door, gently pulling him after her.
"You sit down here, I'll get you something to change into," she said quietly, leading him to sit down on the right side of her bed before turning to the closet, unable to keep the little grin off her face.
"You're giving me the right side?" he asked, his voice raised in surprise, watching her, entranced as she moved about the room.
"Well," she said, handing him some clothes and unzipping her jacket, aware of his eyes glued to her, "you've had a tough day."
The mattress was soft and comfortable when he lowered himself down onto it a few moments later as he waited for Kensi to come out of the bathroom. He couldn't believe today. Never did he in his wildest dreams think when he woke up this morning that this is where he'd end up. His heart was singing, his veins aflame as he remembered their kiss, their first proper kiss that not two three ago he was convinced that they'd never get to have.
There was just something about coming so close to the brink of death to make you feel so incredibly alive.
Just as that thought left his brain, the bathroom door opened to reveal his partner, clad in sweatpants and a T-shirt, a very familiar T-shirt.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed as she made her way towards him, "I knew you had my shirt..."
Kensi shrugged, sitting down on the left side of her bed and catching his eye.
Her heart skipped a beat at his expression. There were so many words being passed between them and yet neither spoke aloud.
After a moment of exchanging grins, Deeks stifled a yawn as Kensi draped the blanket over them.
"You should get some rest," she murmured.
He nodded, his eyes feeling heavy once more, comforted by the warmth omitting from her body.
"Deeks," she whispered as she leaned over to turn off the light, shimming down the bed, facing him, "you're the only one I'd surrender the right side to, just so you know."
His eyes opened in the darkness, staring at the outline of her body, catching her hand in his.
"Ditto," he replied quietly. "We...we still need to talk about...everything..." he trailed off, trying to quench his nerves.
"We will," she squeezed his hand, ebbing his fears away, "tomorrow, we'll tackle it all tomorrow...together."
She sealed her promise with a kiss, light and sweet and full of hope.
And they slept, long and restful, the best either of them had in a very long time...
A/N: *Peeks in* So...what d'ya think guys? Densi are now official! All the following chapters from now on will be the development of their romantic relationship :D Hope you're all as excited as me :D
Oh and I just want to note, to any Hawaii Five-0 fans, I came up with the Patrick hiring Oliver to kill him plot-twist before seeing the twist in the 'Ha'awe Make Loa' (Death Wish) episode. Funny coincidence XD
NEXT CHAPTER TEASER:
"You kidding? It's the perfect foundation for a relationship. Karty, Beeks, Dyle. Oh no, I got it! Mensi! Oh yeah, that's it…we're totally Mensi…" he trailed off, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Kensi's nose wrinkled, "eww Deeks, don't be gross."
"Not gross…creative," he smirked, sweeping a brunette tendril behind her ear with a grin.
"And gross," she groused before a small smile spread across her face, "you said relationship, by the way…" she trailed off, poking him gently in the chest as her other hand wrapped around the back of his neck.
"I know…" he murmured before chuckling as she closed the gap between them, leaning up on her tip-toes and capturing his lips with hers.
Happy Holidays! Please Review :D
~Cortexikid x