Life, Lies and Video Surveillance
By Cortexikid
Chapter 37: Inamorato (Part II)
A/N: So guys, I think we're at the home stretch now...just about ten-ish more chapters to go. I can't believe it :O Without further ado, here's the next update, quick as promised. It'll be my penultimate arc, I think, so I hope you like it! :)
Oh! What did you guys think of "The Box"? (The capitals are necessary I think XD) Let the speculation begin!
Disclaimer: Been writing this fic for about 11 months now :O but NCIS: LA still isn't mine.
WOTD: INAMORATO; in·am·or·at·o noun. Flame, male-lover, beloved.
"He's called Heisenberg?"
"Yep."
"And you're keeping him?"
"Yep. Well, temporarily."
"You're keeping the fish of the man who tried to blow you up?" Kensi asked for clarification, convinced that her partner (more than partner!) had finally lost whatever sanity he had.
Deeks merely shrugged at her, his gleaming smile reflected in the large tank where the Blue-Freckled Cichlid fish was now swimming.
"You realize that he's not Bryan Cranston, right?" she poked him in the shoulder, his awed expression at the fish making her smirk.
"He's not?" he gaped before pouting, "man, and I always thought Bryan Cranston had gills and an affinity for swimming in circles," Deeks replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
The brunette rolled her eyes, sauntering over to his couch and sitting down, her hand coming to rest around her abdomen, pleased to only feel the slightest pinch of bandage against her skin.
"So tell me again, what exactly did Bradley say to you? Word for word..."
The ex-cop continued staring at his new pet for a moment before turning from the tank and walking towards Kensi, folding his arms.
"He told me he knows exactly what's going on down at The National Center for Wounded Warriors...and why Mr. Collins was killed..."
One Day Earlier...
"War Vet Terrance Jensen Collins, aged forty-two, was found dead in his room on Wednesday evening by one of the night-nurses. The COD is blunt force trauma to the back of the skull and there appears to be no sign of a struggle in the room. We're still waiting on a full report from LAPD but it has been ruled a homicide and due to Mr. Collins' affiliation with NCIS, the case has been handed over to us," Nell Jones was saying as Deeks walked into Ops, a few steps in front of Kensi after making their plans for a date later that night.
Due to the severity of the current situation he was trying extra hard not to let the 100 watt grin that wanted to break out onto his face at the thought of a date with Kensi Blye rise to the surface but it was incredibly difficult. He'd finally done it! He'd finally asked out the literal woman of his dreams and she didn't kick him in the nom-de-plums or threaten to shave all his hair off while he slept or anything. Today was a good day.
Well, not for Terrence Collins.
Grimacing at his thoughts that were in bad-taste, the blond spoke up, "no sign of a struggle suggests a blitz attack, he was taken by surprise, struck from behind," he murmured, his eyes glued to Kensi as she walked into Ops and halted about three feet from him.
At the teams' murmur of agreement with Deeks' hypothesis, Kensi looked to Nell, "you said he has an affiliation with NCIS?"
The intelligence-analyst nodded, her eyes darting to Hetty for a moment before tapping on her tablet, three photographs appearing on the screen.
"This is Special Agent Megan Collins, sister to Terrance," Eric piped up, gesturing to the first picture that was off Megan's driver's licence and then to the second which was one of she and her brother smiling together, clearly taken from Terrance's personal affects.
"She is also an Agent, part of the Georgia Green Team," Nell added, pointing to the last photograph which was from Megan's NCIS badge where her ID number could be seen.
"First Red now Green, what, are we trying to make an NCIS rainbow?" Deeks murmured under his breath, pleased to see a small smirk form on Kensi's lips, "because that sounds kinda awesome. I still think we should have a colour. Personally, I like gold. The Gold Team. Team Gold. It has a nice ring to it..."
His response was silence.
"Mr Callen," Hetty turned to the agent as if Deeks had never spoken, "it has come to my attention that the Red and Green team have collaborated on a number of cases together so it would be beneficial for you to contact Ms Summerskill and see if she can shed any light on the situation, get a lock on Ms Collins and determine if this was a personal attack on her family. Also, I'd like for you to get in touch with Special Agent Twirling, the head of Green Team and request a sit down with them. Last thing any of us needs is a highly trained, incredibly dangerous, grieving sister going off on a personal vendetta and mission for justice."
Callen nodded, not looking particularly psyched about any of what Hetty had just said. The team were wise enough not to make any comment on he having to contact Paris, even if Sam's face was practically screaming it in various languages and at rising decibels.
"On it," G merely responded, taking leave of the room, pulling out his cell phone without a backwards glance.
The rest of the team watched him go, awaiting further instructions.
"Mr Deeks, Mr Monroe, I want you to go to the crime scene and interview the night-nurse that found the body. Mr Hanna, I want you to go to the Collins' family home and interview his mother. We might get lucky and have Ms Collins already back and not on an active assignment..." Hetty trailed off, before turning on her heel and beginning to walk out of the room.
"Oh and Ms Blye," she halted, but didn't turn around, as Kensi's eyes widened, her heart speeding up at the idea of actually getting something to do on this case, "I believe there are some documents that need filing and some paper work that still needs filling. Now would be a great time to catch up, don't you think?"
And with that she was gone.
Another silence descended on the room as Kensi gaped at the empty spot where her boss used to be. After a beat or two, Deeks shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing from one team member to the next.
"Was it just me or did she say there's an Agent Twirling? How awesome would it be if their first name was Baton?"
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 12:30pm
Thunderous blows reverberated around the room, a steady rhythm ever building as unsteady breaths escaped chapped lips. Hazel, squinted eyes glared at the swinging bag as a strong, left fist collided with it, followed by a right, again and again and again, a thick sheen of sweat glistening upon stretches of dark skin.
"Megan...Meg..." a voice called but the fists never stopped their metrical pace, thumping left, right, left, right...
"Special Agent Collins!"
The fists halted, shoulders tightening, chest heaving.
"Leave me alone Liam," a jaded, agitated voice replied.
Footsteps drew nearer, stopping just behind Agent Collins.
"Meg...talk to me," Liam Carbury urged gently, stepping around his partner and folding his arms across his chest, his eyes boring into hers.
"I said I don't wanna talk. I don't need to talk. What I need is to get the hell to Los Angeles but seen as Twirling decided that that's not an—"
"We're leaving in five minutes," Carbury interjected, holding up his hand. At his partner's dazed expression, he elaborated, "Twirling just got a call from Special Agent G Callen from the Los Angeles Office of Special Projects. They have taken over your brother's case and are asking for a sit-down with us tomorrow."
Meg took a moment to let those words wash over her.
"I—I gotta call my mom back, let her know I'll be home sooner than I thought," she murmured, taking her cell phone out of her pocket.
Liam nodded, backing out slowly, giving his partner some space.
"It'll take over a day to get back to LA so try and get as much rest as you can Meg, I'll keep you updated on everything," he promised, throwing her a small smile before turning on his heel and making his way to his bunk room.
As he slid the door shut behind him, he felt his friend and colleague Chase Grayson stand up from his bunk and wait for him to speak. When he didn't, instead just crossing the tiny room and sitting down on his own bunk, eyes glued to his clasped hands, Chase spoke up:
"How is she?"
Liam shrugged, "she's punching the crap out of the bag right now, was on the phone to her mother for the last two hours and now has to call her again...so yeah, she's holding it together as best she can, you know how tough Collins is."
"I know she'd kick all our asses from here to Tennessee if she knew we were talking about her," a new voice came from the doorway where their tech-analyst Kim Hanway stood.
"Ain't that the truth," Chase echoed.
"So...Los Angeles?" Kim continued, stepping further into the room, sliding the door behind her and sitting on the edge of one of the empty bottom bunks.
"Yeah," Liam nodded, "the Office of Special Projects caught TJ's case."
Kim bit her lip, her brow furrowing in thought, "I've heard rumors about the OSP. Is it true that their boss is—"
"Hetty Lange? Yeah," Liam interrupted with a grimace, "Claire—you know from the Red Team? She told me a little about her and the OSP guys a while back. They sound...intriguing."
A short silence descended the team before Chase let out a small sigh.
"I guess we'll find out just how intriguing tomorrow."
"Promise me."
"I'll do better than that, partner. I pinky swear," Marty Deeks grinned at his partner, holding out his pinky finger in front of her face.
"You know," Kensi said, smacking his hand away, "sometimes when you say things, I genuinely think that you're reading lines from a script written by a twelve-year-old girl."
Zack Monroe chuckled as he watched the pair, his eyes darting back and forth between the two.
"You see what I have to deal with on a daily basis?" Kensi turned to Monroe with a tilt of her head, "all I can say is – good luck. And whatever you do, don't let him pick the radio station."
Zack opened his mouth to reply but Deeks jumped in before he could say a word.
"Hey, hey, you're always saying that the driver picks the station so I'm taking the opportunity to educate young Monroe here in the fine lyrical ways of Mister—"
"Justin Timberlake?" his partner interjected with a snort, having complete knowledge of the content on her partner's iPod and wasn't afraid to let the outside world be privy to it too.
"I think I'm good on the JT front Deeks, thanks," Monroe smirked as he and Kensi exchanged a teasing glance.
"See, Deeks? The man has taste," she pressed, gently taking a seat at her desk, ignoring the mountain of paperwork in front of her.
"Says the Queen of Techno and secret die-hard fan of My Chemical Romance," Deeks folded his arms with a pout.
"I like techno and My Chemical Romance are always great to listen to when you're pissed off," Monroe grinned as Kensi let out a laugh.
"Thank you Monroe," she turned to Deeks with a pointed look, "see? Taste."
Deeks looked between the two, eyes flickering from Kensi to Monroe and back again, holding his partner's gaze.
"Yo Deeks, don't you guys have somewhere to be?" Sam's voice carried towards the bull pen from the doorway.
Without breaking eye-contact with his partner and a small smirk touching his lips, Deeks called over his shoulder, "we'll be right there, Sam...when Kensi finishes flirting with the new guy."
Kensi leaned forward a little in her chair, looking up at him with her chin in her palm, "technically out of the two of you," she gestured between him and Monroe, "you would be the new guy, Agent Deeks," she finished with a wink.
The blond gaped at her, apparently rendered speechless. The brunette took that as an opportunity.
"Promise me, Deeks."
After a beat, he shook his head and cleared his throat, trying and failing to will the blood to abandon his cheeks.
"Alright Kens," the very recently-appointed agent spoke, hoping that he was distracting her from the fact that she made him blush, "I promise I'll keep you updated on the case. You won't die of boredom, not on my watch."
"Good," Kensi nodded, "and don't forget to bring me back some Ding-Dongs. And Twinkies. And those donuts from that new place."
Deeks tipped his imaginary hat and faux-bowed, his eyes shining brightly at Kensi, "as you wish..."
"So...how's Paris?"
G Callen threw a side-glance at his partner as they made their way to the home of Terrance Collins' mother, Veronica.
"I wouldn't know...haven't been in France in years," he replied with an arched brow before turning his attention to the sights flashing by the window.
"Very funny," Sam shook his head, "I'm sure she hasn't heard that a thousand times. Seriously G, how are she and the Red Team doin'?"
Callen let out an audible sigh, knowing it was pointless, that his partner wasn't the type to just let stuff like this go and knew it was less effort to just answer his questions.
"Great. Busy. She couldn't talk long, just said that she had met Megan Collins personally and thought she was a good agent. She gave me a brief run-down of the Green Team and patched me through to Agent Twirling," he finished, his eyes still out the window.
He could practically hear the cogs turning in Sam's brain as he fought to come up with an appropriate response. After a second or two he just shrugged and asked:
"She mention when you guys could go for that beer?"
And there it was. It took exactly 6.9 seconds for it to come to that. Sam was getting impatient in his old age.
"No Sam, she didn't mention anything about beer. It was a work-call," he responded pointedly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever G," he dismissed him with a wave before pulling up outside the Collins' house and turning off the ignition, eyes glued on the small, quaint, family home.
Now came the tough part of the job...
"Anyone ever tell you, you look a lot like a taller Scott Baio?" Deeks asked after about five minutes in the car and about thirty seconds into 'Sexy Back.' Damn Kensi for putting Justin Freakin' Timberlake in his head. He was better than that, dammit.
"Anyone ever tell you, you make a lot of pop culture references?" Monroe answered, tilting his head in the other man's direction.
"Yeah well, guess I'm just written that way," he smirked, thinking about the comment Kensi made about him earlier.
"So, what's this place again?" the younger agent asked after a beat of silence, flicking through the folder on his lap when they were stopped in traffic.
"The National Center for Wounded Warriors, it's a clinic that specializes in housing and treating soldiers and members of law enforcement for an array of conditions from the physical to PTSD, that kinda thing..." Deeks trailed off, pressing on the gas as the light went green and forcing down a strange fluttering in his stomach that formed when he spoke about the clinic.
Weird.
"So, it says here, Terrance Jensen Collins was a patient for the last eighteen months but there are no details of his condition or what led him to the clinic in the first place," Monroe murmured, almost to himself as his eyes raked over the incredibly small file that Nell and Eric managed to obtain (legally) online.
"Well, I guess we'll just have to get more out of the staff," Deeks shrugged as he turned onto the interstate.
"Yeah," Monroe groused, "like that won't be like pulling teeth."
Bored.
Bored, bored, bored.
Was there another word for bored? She flicked through her mental thesaurus as she balanced a pencil on her nose like a pro.
Spent. Jaded. Uninterested. Disinterested. Fatigued. Inattentive. Disenchanted. Disentranced. Discontented. Satiated. Wearied. Listless. Lackadaisical. Supine. Insouciant. Phlegmatic.
Okay, she could have made those last four up, she wasn't sure, but damn, was she bored! It may be an overused and plain word but it was a good one. It summed up exactly what she was feeling right now, had been feeling all morning, in fact. Well, maybe it didn't sum up everything she felt but the main one, at least. All the others – pissed off, frustrated, angry, lonely...those weren't her top priority, those weren't slowly but surely driving her insane.
Was it still only 11am?
How was that even possible!?
"Keep up the practice, Ms Blye, and you may be able to give Lucy down at the water park a run for her money," a voice broke through her reverie, causing the pencil to slip from her nose and clatter down onto her desk.
"Lucy?" Kensi asked with a bite to her lip as Hetty made herself visible (from God knows where) and stood in front of her desk.
"The seal, Ms Blye. She's quite talented at balancing balls and buckets on her nose," the Operations Manager clarified with an arch of her eyebrow.
"Oh..." the younger woman replied for lack of a better response, finding the image of Hetty at a water park somewhat strange. Still, it wasn't as bad as that time Deeks imagined her trying to get onto rides at Disneyland.
"Something amusing?" Hetty asked, alerting Kensi to the fact that a grin had spread across her face at her partner's smirk once he conjured that particular image of their bantam boss.
"I...uh—"
"I gather it's not your paperwork that brought such a beam to your face," Hetty interjected, something Kensi couldn't put a finger on in her tone, clasping her hands and holding them at her abdomen.
When her agent failed to respond, Henrietta continued:
"I know you detest being out of the field, Kensi," she paused, "and believe me, I hate taking you out of it—it's where you flourish best. But, rules are rules and you know how much of a stickler Owen Granger can be," she tilted her head, her lips pursed as if she herself were conjuring a certain image, "but, it won't be forever, remember that."
Kensi nodded, not being particularly psyched up by Hetty's supposed pep talk.
"I know Hetty," she murmured, flicking open another batch of paperwork and grasping a pen.
"You and Mr. Deeks are quite the pair, Ms. Blye. It would never be my intention to keep either of you away from your work if I could help it..."
Kensi dragged her eyes up from the paper as found that Hetty had moved closer to her desk, her bespectacled gaze boring into her. Her throat went dry at that stare, her mouth hanging open a fraction. After a few seconds, she forced herself to swallow and form a coherent sentence:
"Uh...thanks Hetty, I know," she rasped, a line creasing her forehead as she watched Hetty nod once as if they had just settled an argument and turned on her heel, walking away.
It was only when she was out of sight did Kensi realize she was holding her breath. Once she expelled it and took in a few deep breaths, she let her boss's words wash over her, a mass of something heavy and uncomfortable forming in her pit of her stomach.
Why the hell did that just sound like a warning?
A large, Victorian-styled building with dozens of small, rectangular windows laid facing out onto a large garden in the bright, morning sun of west Los Angeles. Just as they passed the impressive stone feature with the words 'The National Center for Wounded Warriors, est. 1990' Marty Deeks felt compelled to break the silence.
"I feel like McMurphy is gonna jump out behind a tree any second now," he remarked as he and Zackary Monroe made their way across the parking lot, towards the large green, surrounded by foliage, directly in front of the impressive building.
At his temporary-partner's silence, the ex-cop threw him a sideways glance.
"Randle Patrick McMurphy? One Flew Over The Cuckoo's—"
"I got it, Deeks. Again with the references," Monroe shook his head in amusement.
"Great book, great movie...although, I'm pretty sure McMurphy isn't actually a real Irish surname," he said almost to himself as they approached the long row of steps up to the giant oak doors.
"Actually, it is," Monroe replied as they flashed their badges to the guard and waited to be escorted inside, "it's not as popular as 'Murphy' but it does exist. It's derived from the Gaelic word 'murchadh' which means sea warrior."
Deeks stared at him.
"I'm half-Mexican bro, on my mom's side," he shrugged, "my dad's side are all mostly from Galway."
"That's...surprising..." the ex-detective grinned as they saw a man in a long white coat approach them.
"Yeah, the Catholic guilt is stifling," Monroe smirked just as the tall, raven-haired doctor halted in front of them.
"Welcome gentlemen, I'm Doctor Leo Murphy."
Deeks could not contain the chuckle that erupted from him. Monroe bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely.
"Uh, nice to meet you, Doctor. I'm Detective—Agent Deeks and this is my colleague Agent Monroe," he gestured to Monroe before shaking the medical-professional's hand.
"Well, what is it, detective or agent?!"
The two agents stared at the doctor for a moment, taken aback by his exasperation.
"Sorry, sorry, I apologize," Doctor Murphy grimaced, "it's just—it's been a little hectic here the last two days after...what happened to TJ, everybody is a little on edge. We—the staff—have been trying to keep things as hush hush as we can, we don't want to alarm any of the patients," he paused, gesturing for them to follow him.
"So, in the spirit of discretion, I would appreciate it if you didn't question any non-staff members or announce your occupation to any patients," he halted abruptly outside a door marked 'Staff Lounge', "not until you've fully questioned all staff. In the meantime, if anybody asks, and trust me, they will, you ignore them or think of a plausible lie. I will not have havoc breaking out. Some of these people are ex-law enforcement and I can't afford them going all Colombo when they find out their friend has been...has been—" the doctor broke off, waving his hand to dismiss the unspoken word and motioned for the agents to enter the staff lounge.
"You'll find Nurse Reed in there; he's the one that found...TJ. Please Agent, wait until we've broken the news to the patients ourselves tomorrow morning before you question any of them, it needs to be handled delicately. Also, for most patients, a supervisor will need to be present when you speak to them so please, when you're finished with my staff, let me know and I will accommodate you," Doctor Murphy finished before turning on his heel and walking away, head held high with an air of ostentation.
Deeks and Monroe watched him go with raised eyebrows before each shrugging at the other and walking through the door, badges held up as they approached a tall, brunet man with blue eyes.
"Derek Reed?"
The man turned towards Deeks' voice, his skin ashen, dark circles under his eyes, his head hung lowly.
"I'm Derek," he murmured, his voice raspy, as if he were in pain.
"Hi, I'm De—Agent Deeks and this is my associate Agent Monroe, NCIS. Would you mind answering some questions?"
It was as if a switch had been flipped in Reed, transforming him from a demure and sluggish, clearly grief-riddled man to a jittery, animated, speaking-a-mile-a-minute man as he launched into every last detail he could think of about Terrance Collins, not even pausing long enough for Deeks or Monroe to jump in with an actual question.
"And he—he was such a good guy, TJ. He'd been here just over 18 months and was making so much progress and he...he'd give you a cigarette even if it was his last one, y'know? He was just that kinda guy. Always asking everyone how they were, how their day was going but never worried about himself, always made sure that he called his mom every second day to update her on his progress and made sure she got the flowers he sent for Mother's Day and her birthday...he—he just—was a good man. Why would someone wanna ever hurt him I...don't know," Reed shrugged, eyes lowered to the floor, a shiver wracking his body, his thoughts clearly far away, perhaps back with TJ's cold and lifeless body.
"Nurse Reed," Deeks took his eventual pause as finally an opportunity to interject, "I was wondering if you could tell us why it was exactly that Mr. Collins was admitted here 18 months ago?"
Reed's eyes grew a little wide at the question, his face contorting into something of discomfort, before his focus tilted to the left, looking over Deeks' shoulder, "I—I can't divulge that sort of information Agent but, if you want to discuss it with someone, there's your guy. Jack! Jack!" he called to a man at the other end of the large room that had his back to them.
Slowly, the man turned and began walking towards them.
"Jack, these are the agents here to investigate TJ's death," Derek introduced them before holding up his hands in apology and stepping away from them, out of the room.
"Agent Deeks," Deeks gestured to himself and then to Monroe, "Agent Monroe, NCIS."
"Nice to meet you Agents," Jack shook Monroe's hand, then Deeks', his emerald eyes locking with the cerulean as they firmly shook, "what can I do for you?"
The blond raked in the brunet's face, also showing signs of fatigue like Reed's, sporting a five o' clock shadow despite it being barely past 11:30am, the skin around his eyes marred with bags and weary lines, his lips turned down in a perpetual frown. Collins' murder really was taking effect on the staff.
"We were speaking to your colleague about Mr. Collins' condition and he referred us to you...we were wondering, seen as patient confidentiality no longer applies after death, could you shed any light on what instances led to his admission into the clinic?"
Jack's broad shoulders tensed a little at the question but after a few moments they relaxed and slumped a little, a frown spreading across his face.
"I suppose, due to the circumstances, he wouldn't mind me letting law enforcement know," he sighed, before motioning to a circular table with chairs a few feet from them, "please, come and sit down. Would you like some coffee?"
After they said their 'no thank yous' and sat down, Jack took a deep breath, as if the very thought of divulging his client's secrets physically pained him.
"I'm TJ's councillor. He began treatment with me 18 months ago for severe depression and PTSD after two tours in Afghanistan. He had been home for over a year but just wasn't assimilating back into regular life and one day he...snapped. Had a complete breakdown, flipped out and beat the crap out of his boss, broke the guy's arm and fractured two ribs. He blacked out, couldn't remember what he'd done when he woke up in a holding cell. He's lucky the guy didn't end up pressing charges. That's when his mom and sister suggested that he come take a look at this place, and when he did, he decided to stay here and try to get better. And he was. Getting better," Jack paused, interlacing his fingers and planting then on the table in front of him.
"We get all types in here, Agent Deeks. Ex-military from soldiers to SEALs to marines, ex-law enforcement from officers to lieutenants to police commissioners. Men and women all plagued with physical and mental conditions from their careers and personal lives and we try our best here to help them in any way we can. TJ Collins was a good man, I've no idea why anyone would want to harm him but I will help you bring whoever did to justice. Just let me know what you need..."
"Thank you for your cooperation Mister...?" Monroe trailed off.
"Bennett," Jack replied, "but please, call me Jack, everybody does."
"Well Jack," Deeks piped up, "can you show us to Mr. Collins' room, please?"
Soft sniffles echoed around a small living room as Veronica Collins, mother to the recently deceased TJ, fought to compose herself.
"I'm sorry...what was the question?" she croaked, taking a handkerchief from out of her pocket and blowing her nose softly.
"Your son, Mrs. Collins," Sam Hanna prompted gently, "we were wondering if there were any changes in his behaviour leading up to his death?"
The elder woman paused a moment in contemplation, glancing over to a picture of her son in his college graduation gown, a small but sad smile on her face.
"He—he was a little more on edge than usual," she began tentatively, "he...said something about a new patient bothering some of the more fragile patients. He didn't go into detail but, if there was something Terrance despised was innocent people being picked on. I remember a friend of his was bullied in high school and Terrance would get so mad at the bullies, was always standing up for the little guy. He was...he was a kind soul, my boy. A gentle giant. Why—why would someone hurt my Terr—" she broke off, wracked with a sob.
Sam leaned forward; his hand enveloping the woman's, squeezing it gently.
"We are going to do everything we can to bring the person who did this to justice, ma'am."
Veronica nodded, sniffling a little before her large, brown eyes rose to meet Sam's.
"Well then, you better start with Jeremy."
Callen sat straighter in his chair.
"Who's Jeremy?"
Veronica turned to Callen, dabbing her eye with her handkerchief.
"He's the man that tried to kill my son before..."
"Hey, you guys get the call too?" Callen asked Deeks and Monroe as they all happened to convene at the entrance of OSP at nearly the exact same time.
"Yep, Eric said something about a break in the case?" Deeks asked as they all traipsed through the door, towards the bull pen.
"Yeah, that's what he told us too," Sam piped up, "you have any luck at the clinic?"
Deeks and Monroe shared a glance before the latter replied, "marginal. We spoke to a couple of staff members before Eric called us back to base camp."
"I still say the Bat Cave sounds cooler," Deeks interjected.
"You're no Batman, Deeks," Kensi Blye's voice sounded from behind them.
"You're more of a Robin," she continued with a cheeky grin as they all filed into the bullpen, watching as she tilted her head at them from her desk.
"No way, Callen's more of a Robin than me," Deeks pouted just before Callen lashed out and punched him in the arm.
"Ow! See?" the blond flailed. "The man has cat-like reflexes!"
"Wouldn't that make him Cat-Woman?" Nell Jones asked from the top of the stairs just before Eric let out his signature ear-splitting whistle.
Callen glared up at them, pointing his finger straight at Nell, "do not encourage them..."
"Aw, come on, G," Sam clapped him on the back as they all made their way up to Ops, "let the kids have their fun."
Kensi and Deeks shared a grin as they walked up the stairs behind them, Monroe following.
"Yeah Robin, listen to Alfred..." Monroe smirked as they entered Ops, secretly pleased at the scandalized look Sam threw him and the chuckles that erupted from the rest of the team.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Deeks nudged him with his elbow.
"Ahem..." Eric faux-coughed, "to get to why I called you back to The Bat Cave," he paused to smirk at Deeks, "there has been some interesting evidence found on Collins' tox-screen."
His paused again for dramatic effect. Nell rolled her eyes.
"He had a high level of Ketamine in his system, a fatal level," the tech-analyst sighed, "looks like someone wanted to make doubly sure this guy died."
"So," Callen stepped forward, eyeing the toxicology report on the screen, "this guy was drugged and hit over the head with a blunt object? Just what did Collins do that warranted that kinda over-kill?"
"Admittedly, it's been a while since I got my head shrunk but I don't remember it being this…sneaky."
Nate Getz jumped, standing with his back rod-straight on the spot, chancing a sheepish glance over his shoulder.
"Uh...hey, Deeks," he grinned far too widely before turning, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Hey Nate..." the new agent replied, tilting his head to the side, confusion etched across his face, "any particular reason why you're poking around my desk, buddy?"
The psychologist cleared his throat nervously, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.
"I-I thought that you guys were gonna be a while up in Ops so—"
"So you thought you'd slip away and rifle through my desk Nancy Drew style?" Deeks interrupted, a confused grin on his face as he raked in the shrink's discomfort. He wasn't mad or on the defense but it did bewilder him why Nate would be snooping around the bull pen, made him a little suspicious, actually.
"Hey Nate, you uh...you never did tell us why you're back in town," the ex-detective pointed out as he stepped towards his desk, eyebrows shooting up as he saw the taller man tense a little at his approach before circling him and taking a seat at his desk, his fingers lacing behind his flaxen hair as he regarded him with a steady stare.
Nate's dark eyes widened a fraction, barely noticeably really, but Deeks was trained to look for anomalies after all and the shrink may as well of been a neon sign flashing 'up-to-something!'
"Hetty may have called me," he replied with a shrug of his left shoulder, apparently not elaborating.
A crease formed above Deeks' nose.
"Hetty called you and said what?" he prodded, subtly looking around to check if the woman in question was somehow ninja-ing somewhere nearby.
Nate shuffled his feet uncomfortably and unclasped his hands from behind his back, a small manila folder in his grasp. Deeks' eyes glued to it, barely registering the psychologist's next words.
"She may have alluded to an event where you—"
"So this has something to do with my…meltdown a while back?" Deeks interjected with a wince, as if the words were forcefully pulled from his throat. He swallowed down the burning taste of bile.
"You quit your job, dealt with your partner being shot and switched careers in a matter of days," Nate stated simply, as if he somehow needed reminding. "And let's not forget the minor incident of getting blown up in front of your friends and colleagues recently..." he trailed off, noticing that the new agent was transfixed on what was in his hands.
"But," he continued, "I wouldn't use the word 'melt down', Deeks. It is a perfectly normal reaction to—"
"And this somehow requires you going all Sherlock Holmes minus the deerstalker in the bullpen while the rest of us slum it up in Ops?" the ex-detective interrupted again, a slight edge to his tone now.
Nate's eyes shone with something Deeks couldn't quite name.
"Slum it?"
"Semantics. Figure of speech. Don't start reading into things that don't need to be read into, Nate," he murmured, standing up from his desk and holding out his hand.
"So, I take it that's the file. You know, the one where all my accomplishments and screw ups go, the one that let's Granger know if I'm an inch away from losing my marbles, spilling government secrets and jumping off an interstate," he deadpanned with a twitch of his lips.
Nate stared at him, motionless.
"Well?" Deeks asked, wiggling his fingers in mid-air, "am I allowed to take a peek or is it for shrink's eyes only?"
Before Nate could answer, the rest of the team began to descend the stairs, chatting loudly.
"Don't get too comfortable Monroe, I'm a fast healer," Kensi laughed with a roll of her eyes as the agent snorted.
"After the first day I had Kensi, I don't think comfortable is a word I'll ever be too familiar with in this job," he replied, a hint of tenseness in his tone but a small smile on his face.
Kensi nodded, eyes lowered, it suddenly hitting her how traumatic it must have been for Monroe to find her like that, shot and bleeding out on a dirty warehouse floor. With a shake of her head, she forced a grin and punched him lightly in the shoulder, catching Deeks' eye.
"Yeah well, everybody knows that we gotta haze the new guy so I'd watch out if I were you...Hetty's not the only one with a girl-scout badge in craftiness and deception."
Deeks snorted, drawing attention to himself, five pairs of eyes landing on him.
"Sorry," he smirked, holding up his hands, "I'm just imagining Hetty in a girl-scout uniform."
Sam stepped forward and clapped him on the back.
"Whatever floats your boat, Deeks."
The blond grimaced as Callen stepped around him.
"Those would be some cookies I'd never buy," he said under his breath as his sat at his desk.
"Not even if she had Samoas, G? I thought they were your favourite?" Sam grinned widely, his eyes shining with mirth.
"No, that's just what I told Michelle when your cute but cunning daughter tried to sell me fourteen boxes by guilt-tripping me for missing her birthday party last year," Callen replied with a faux-glare.
"How many boxes did she end up selling you, Callen?" Kensi asked with an amused tilt of her head as she took her seat next to him.
The agent murmured something indecipherable under his breath.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Deeks asked, leaning forward and cupping his ear.
"Sixteen," Callen mumbled barely above a whisper.
The team broke out in laughter as Sam chuckled, "that's my girl!"
"She learns from the best, Mr. Hanna," Henrietta Lange's voice broke through the jovial atmosphere.
Slowly, everybody turned to look at her but she only had eyes for one person.
"Mr. Deeks...a word, please."
"You're kidding,"
"I seldom kid, Mr. Deeks. But believe me, if I were, you'd know it," Hetty tilted her head at him from behind her desk.
"Why me? I mean, Sam has more experience—"
"But you're ex-law enforcement, Mr Deeks, and the man Jeremy that Collins' mother told Mr Hanna and Mr Callen about is an ex-detective. You two speak the same language, can build up a rapport. As of now, he is our prime suspect, so time is of the essence," the bespectacled woman said with a pointed look.
"For…for how long?" the blond was almost afraid to ask.
Hetty tapped her chin, her eyes skyward for a moment.
"For as long as it takes, Mr Deeks."
"You're kidding."
"That's exactly what I said," Deeks grumbled in reply to his shocked partner, dragging his palms down his face as he sat at his desk.
"For how long?" Sam asked, his interest peaked at the recent turn of events.
"For as long it takes," Deeks made a face as he echoed Hetty's words.
"Didn't you run into any patients today? Won't they recognize you?" Callen pondered.
"We didn't get a chance to interview any patients today, just staff members," Monroe piped up from his spot in the extra chair in the bullpen.
"So the staff knows that you're NCIS?" Kensi frowned.
"Well, three of them. Doctor Murphy, Nurse Derek and Collins' councillor, Jack," Deeks shrugged, "so you guys can handle those interviews. No serious red flags yet. For now, I'm gonna focus on our prime suspect Jeremy Thyne."
"He's an ex-cop," the voice of Nate Getz interjected as he entered the bullpen, "so hopefully you two can bond over shared experiences, traumas…"
Deeks stared at the psychologist, the uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut again. But, before he could reply, his cell-phone began to ring. With a sigh, he glanced down at the screen to see 'blocked' and frowned, but answered anyway:
"Deeks."
The team watched as the blond's frown deepened, something dark passing over his face. Kensi did not like the look of this. The last time he wore that expression when answering the phone, it had been Logan Banks calling about Gordon Brandel's involvement in Fay Benson's murder.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," Deeks said just before hanging up, his eyes wide, clearly confused.
"What is it, Deeks?" Kensi had to ask.
"That uh…" her partner rubbed the back of his neck as his orbs met hers, "that was Viktor Kajetan, a lawyer. He—he wants me to meet his client that apparently has information on Collins' murder…" he trailed off, standing up from desk, an expression of determination crossing his features.
"And who's his client?" Kensi murmured, eyes narrowed at the tight set of his shoulders.
Deeks slowly turned on the spot, shoving his hands into his pockets, a scowl on his face.
"Oliver Bradley."
The loud clanging of chains reverberated down the corridor, edging ever nearer to the cell that Marty Deeks found himself in. He could feel Viktor Kajetan's eyes boring a hole into the back of his skull but he pointedly ignored him. He was here to see Oliver and didn't really want to waste his time with another skivvy defense lawyer if he could help it
Before his thoughts could dwindle even further, he heard the tell-tale buzzing of an electronic lock being opened and soon the clanging of chains was in the room. There, standing just visible behind a large, uniformed guard, stood Oliver Bradley, exactly how he remembered him, save for a little weight loss.
"Marty Deeks, the very man I've been waiting to see," he smiled, allowing the guard to lead him to the table and chaining him to it.
"I gotta say Oliver, you've got me curious," Deeks mused as the guard stepped away to stand outside the door.
"Tell me Marty, how is that girl of yours?" Bradley asked as if he hadn't the agent speak.
The blond's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"You know," Bradley leaned forward conspiratorially, "the girl you made that phone call to. The phone call that saved your life…" he trailed off, watching with intense eyes at the other man's subtle body language.
"She's…good," Deeks answered, "but we're not here to talk about her, Bradley. Tell me what you know about Terrance Collins' death."
Bradley leaned back as far as his restraints would allow, tilting his head, "oh come on Marty, don't leave me hangin' man. Did your girl get your voicemail? Did you guys run up to each other in the pouring rain and profess your dying love to each other?"
Deeks scowled at Bradley's teasing tone. With a shake of his head, he started to stand up from the table.
"Well, it's been nice Bradley but I kinda have better things to be doing so if you're not gonna get to the point then I'm just gonna—"
"Wait!" Bradley held one of his hands up, the chain scraping against the metal bar bolted to the table, "I'm sorry, I just—I need to get my kicks somehow. Look, I—I'll tell you what you need to know…"
Deeks chanced a glance at his watch, ever aware of his upcoming date with Kensi that was less than two hours from now. With a bite of his lip, he stared at his watch one more time before his gaze rose to meet Bradley's.
"Make it quick."
"Hey Kens, I'm on the way, I'm so sorry, Bradley is such a talker and you'll never guess what he—no, I won't ruin the surprise…I'll be home in like five minutes and I can get changed and we can go out somewhere else and—"
"Deeks…." Kensi interrupted, a smile in her tone, "it's fine, don't worry about it, I get it. I'm at your apartment; your mom and my mom have gone to the movies so…I'll just wait for you. Don't break any traffic laws on the way home. Last thing I need is hauling my ass down to the station to bail you out for resisting arrest," she finished, thankfully not sounding put out at all.
"Okay Kens, I'll see you in fifteen," he said into the phone, a little guilt still in the pit of his stomach but feeling better after hearing her voice.
After she hung up, he threw the phone onto the passenger seat in frustration. It bounced a bit but did nothing to cool his anger. He had been so looking forward to tonight, had been daydreaming since this morning about how their date would go and now as usual, a case got in the way. He loved his job, he did but this…this was Kensi. He and Kensi and their thing becoming more than a thing and this being the first step to properly acknowledging their 'more than just partners' status.
But it was not a total loss, not if he had anything to do about it. With a renewed vigour and a smile to his face, Deeks drove the rest of the way to his apartment complex with a new plan. Just because the reservations he'd made two weeks before (okay so he knew he was pushing his luck a little by only being finally brave enough to ask her out that morning but sue him, Kensi scared him a little) were now rendered useless, didn't mean that he could treat her to a nice meal, courtesy of Chef Deeks. Home-made was always better, right?
Right.
He was going to sweep her off her feet with his culinary genius. The Banoffee had been a success in the past, so there was no doubt that his savoury choices wouldn't let him down.
They couldn't.
Tonight was too important.
"Okay Kens, be prepared to have your taste buds treated to the most delicious meal you've ever—" Marty broke off his loud call as he stepped into his apartment and made his way to the kitchen only to find his partner, clad in an apron over what appeared to be a very nice, black silk blouse and pants, her hair loose over her shoulders, her feet shoved into fluffy sleepers as she held out a glass of wine for him to take.
"Way ahead of you, cowboy," she grinned, her polychrome eyes shining brightly in the candle light.
Deeks couldn't take his eyes off her.
"Close your mouth before you start drooling, Schnauzer," she rolled her eyes at him (failing to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks) "and sit down, dinner is almost ready."
Deeks did what he was told in an almost trance-like state, taking the wine from her and sitting himself down at his small, square table that was dressed with a decorative candle and the expressive silverware his mother insisted on buying him for his birthday a few years ago that had never made it out of the drawer until now.
"You…made dinner?" he gaped, still not believing his eyes as she made her way over to the oven, donning some gloves and carefully taking out a piping hot dish.
"Contrary to popular belief Deeks, I can cook," she faux-scolded with a look over her shoulder before scrunching up her nose in a way that made his heart flutter, "well, very specific things anyway," she amended as an afterthought.
He hid a grin behind his glass.
"Is this your…signature dish?" he couldn't help but ask, remembering that time nearly a year ago, when she tried to cook for that accountant guy…what was his name again? Hank? Harry? No, that wasn't it, it had something to do with the weather…
"It is," her voice spat him from his reverie, "I knew that you'd be wallowing about having to push back our…date," she paused, apparently trying that word out for size and liking the sound of it if her grin was anything to go by, "so, I decided to treat you. You've been so great to me over the last few weeks, making sure I'm eating enough and drinking fluids—"
"Which you complained about endlessly," he reminded her with a tilt of his head.
"Which I complained about endlessly," she agreed with a roll of her eyes, "but," she continued, dishing out the food onto plates, "I thought it was about time I return the favour," she finished, turning around and untying her apron, letting it flutter to the floor, revealing her little black blouse with plunging neckline in all its glory, a wolfish smirk spreading across her face.
Deeks' throat went dry.
"Oh my god, this is amazing, Kens," Deeks groaned for the fourth time in twenty minutes as he took another bite of food.
"So you've said," she replied, chuckling, the light catching her skin just right so that she looked like she was glowing.
He could look at her forever…listen to her forever…be with her forever…
After another pleasant twenty minutes of light chatter (about anything but work) and not so subtle brushing of hands, feet, anything they could reach, really, they both stood up and began clearing the plates. Deeks was suddenly struck by the overwhelming feeling of domesticity, how comfortable Kensi had become in his home, how comfortable he had become in hers and how much they enjoyed each other's company outside of work. As he bent down to put the dishes into the dishwasher and caught sight of his beautiful more-than-partner in his peripheral vision, he couldn't ignore his urge anymore. Straightening up, he stepped closer to her, watching as she stilled, her eyes still flickering brightly as they caught his, almost teasingly, as he reached up and tucked a brunette tendril behind her ear.
"Thank you for the perfect end to a not so perfect day, Kens," he whispered into her ear before brushing his lips to the edge of her mouth, smiling when she shifted a little so she could brush her lips against his.
"You're welcome, Deeks," she whispered back as they broke the kiss, her forehead resting against his cheek, "but there's more…"
Deeks' eyebrows shot up.
"More you say?" he asked, his heart-rate quickening.
"Yeah…" she trailed off teasingly before reaching behind her and thrusting something into his hands with gusto, "ice-cream!"
The blond laughed heartily at her as she quirked an eyebrow.
"What? Were you expecting something else, Agent Deeks?" she pondered faux-innocently with a bite to her lip.
Never had 'Agent Deeks' sounded so good…
"Nope," he shook his head playfully, "ice-cream and the company of Badass Blye, what more could a guy ask for?"
His partner (more than partner!) winked at him as she carried two bowls out of the kitchen and into the living room area, pausing only when she saw the two large objects Deeks brought home with him.
"What are those?"
The ex-detective followed her gaze, landing on a large rectangular object draped with a blanket and a small round object in a plastic bag sitting on his floor beside the door.
"Oh yeah…uh…Bradley may have given me something."
Kensi's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"No, no hey, I know it's against the rules to accept gifts, especially from prisoners but…this is only temporary until I can find him a new home in a few days," Deeks held up his hands in defense, "and neither of them were really taking no for an answer and besides…" he crossed the room, carefully picked up the round object and unravelled the bag, revealing a fish-bowl where a large, scary-looking blue fish swam.
"Look at this little guy, isn't he cute?"
Kensi stared at fish and then up at Deeks with a puzzled expression.
"Uh yeah…sure, Deeks."
He looked positively gleeful at that.
"I know, right?! Wanna help me set up the aquarium?"
Well, how could a girl say no to that?
Present
"So tell me again, what exactly did Bradley say to you? Word for word..."
The ex-cop continued staring at his new (temporary!) pet for a moment before turning from the tank and walking towards Kensi, folding his arms.
"He told me he knows exactly what's going on down at The National Center for Wounded Warriors...and why Mr Collins was killed..." he trailed off, reaching down for another spoonful of ice-cream from the bowl on his coffee table.
"And…?" Kensi prompted, knowing that he was getting a kick out of deliberately taking his time catching her up.
"And he told me about a doctor that worked in the clinic when he did a stint there a few months back. A Doctor Evans, who he was certain, was sleeping with one of his patients, Marlowe Green. Apparently, Terrance Collins walked in on them in a compromising position and reported the doc who was then fired. Marlowe however, is still a patient and holds quite the grudge…" he trailed off, sitting down on the couch beside her.
"So," Kensi leaned into him, their hands brushing, "you've another patient to cosy up to while undercover…"
Deeks stilled as her words sank in.
"What?" she asked, sensing something was up.
"I don't think it was the luck of the draw that I was chosen for this," he muttered under his breath.
"What do you mean?"
He could feel her puzzled glance directed at him but couldn't bring himself to look at her, not knowing if he was being stupid, paranoid or both.
"Earlier today, I came down from Ops to find Nate snooping around my desk," he trudged on, deciding to voice his theory anyway, knowing that she wouldn't judge, "and we talked a little about…about the last few months. I just—I don't think he being in Los Angeles is a happy coincidence, that's all…"
Kensi's hand covered his, interlacing their fingers, prompting the man to look at her, their gazes interlocking.
"I don't think it is either," she paused, "at first, I thought it might have to do with my shooting but…maybe it's both? He said that Hetty called them and—she said something really weird to me today that got me thinking."
That peaked Deeks' interest. An elusive Hetty was a dangerous Hetty…even if it was her default setting.
"She said…something like, she'd never keep me or you away from our jobs if she could help it," Kensi continued, her brow furrowing before her face froze altogether, eyes wide.
Sitting up, she turned her body towards Deeks fully, a look of panic crossing her features.
"You—you don't think she…you know…knows about us?"
He let that thought wash over him. If he were being honest, if anyone was to find out about them first, his money was on Hetty. But…even with all her wiles, could she detect their shift in dynamic so quickly? After all, they were only having their first date tonight.
"I—you never know with Hetty, Kensi," he opted to go with the truth, "but as long as we're careful, don't provide her with any definitive evidence, I think we'll be okay, safe from any Hetty integration."
They both visibly shivered at that idea. It was the stuff of nightmares.
Before either of them could continue, the soft sound of music began wafting through the wall. A smile broke out on Deeks face as Kensi stilled, listening intently.
"Is…is Mrs Davis playing Michael Buble?"
"Yep. She frickin' loves the guy. One Thursday every month, she comes home from her night out with the girls and puts on some Michael to help her wind down," he cooed, just before standing up and offering her his hand.
"You're not serious," she laughed but took his hand anyway, letting him help her up and wrap her in his arms, gently swaying back and forth.
"I wish it was another song, though…" she sighed into his neck as she raked a hand through his hair, "maybe you could drop by and ask her to change it?"
Deeks tilted his head back to stare blankly at her.
"And how exactly am I supposed to charm my way into a little old lady's apartment without coming across as a complete pervert?"
Kensi shrugged.
"Maybe you could dazzle her with your Margaret Thatcher impression?"
He let out a laugh, one straight from his belly, smiling widely. Only Kensi could get that kind of reaction from him. She laughed too and he spun her before pulling her gently back into his arms, staring down into her dark orbs as they flickered from his to his mouth and back again.
Slowly, he leaned down and captured her lips, the sweet taste of chocolate chip ice-cream still on them. She pressed into him, standing up on her tip-toes, her fluffy slippers shuffling across the floor as she pushed him backwards, down onto the couch. The kiss broke, Deeks staring up at her with a dazed but pensive expression on his face.
"Why so serious?" she quipped, tilting her chin down, her hands on her hips.
"Did you actually just quote The Joker?" he gaped, a sense of wonderment following through his veins.
"Uh, yeah," she shrugged.
"Okay literally, you've never been hotter to me then right now," he rasped before gently tugging her down on top of him, she straddling his waist.
She chuckled, brushing her tongue against his bottom lip as he wove one hand into her hair, the other encircling her waist. She clutched at the collar of his shirt (which he insisted on changing into when he saw her 'fancy' outfit), bunching it up in her fist, stretching its buttons.
"So..." she breathed between kisses, "how's our thing going?"
"Really?" he gasped as she found a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, "you wanna talk about this now?"
"Better than you talking about…aphrodisiacs," she whispered against his skin, noticing how his pulse jumped.
"It's seduction 101," he faux-griped (his mind far too gone to mind that she was teasing his topic of discussion for over dinner) as his hand splayed on her lower back.
"Have you been reading Cosmo again?" she chuckled, her fingers pushing themselves into his shirt, popping one button, then two, then three—
"Not that I'm complaining…because I'm totally not but…is this—do you want this Kens? Right now? You're still healing and I don't want you to get—"
"I'm just giving you a teaser before the main event, Deeks…isn't that how it works? You give them a taste to get them hooked?" she cooed, clearly enjoying herself, watching him from her perch on his lap.
"How much wine have you had?" he teased her, but she merely shook her head, ignoring him.
"Just like when you first kissed me…it was like a sneak peek of what's happening right now," she smiled, pecking his lips again.
"You kissed me too," he faux-pouted, rising to meet her halfway.
"You kissed me first," she reminded him with a nip to his bottom lip.
"We've had this conversation before, Kens. You were asleep when I first kissed you so that makes it—"
"Creepy?" she suggested.
"Was it creepy when Prince Charming kissed Snow White?" he asked, both his arms wrapping around her waist, fingers brushing over the silk of her blouse.
"Yes."
"Was it creepy when Prince Charming kissed Sleeping Beauty?" he tried again.
"Yes! Wait," she paused, lifting her head to meet his eyes, "are you Prince Charming in this scenario? 'Cause I gotta say Deeks, I see you more as the frog."
"Wrong fairy tale," he nipped at her lips, drawing her into another kiss.
"Only because…" she gasped after a moment, "Prince Charming seems to get around and you—"
"Wait for my Princess?"
She stared down at him, her eyes dancing brightly in the dim light.
"Could you be any cheesier?" she laughed, running her fingers down his chest, smiling at his skin that was radiating heat.
Deeks' eyes fell closed.
"I'm gonna miss your ugly mug when you're undercover," she whispered into his ear, her breath bouncing off his cheek.
"You really know what to say to a guy, don't ya?" he mused, capturing her hand that was torturing his sensitive skin and squeezing it in his.
"So…" he began, opening his eyes and finding hers, "you wanna stay over? "You could always bunk with me," he wiggled his eyebrows, "G-rated stuff only, I swear. Or PG if you want...PG-13 at the very most," he threw her a cheeky grin as she leaned into him.
"I would hate to see you actually rate TV and movies. Because what we've been doing lately, Deeks, has definitely been a little more than PG-13. Not NC-17…yet…but somewhere in between. You'd probably rate Fatal Attraction and Basic Instinct as Parental Guidance," she rolled her eyes, flicking his earlobe.
"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off before clasping her waist and lifting her gently off him, standing up.
"But what about the ice cream?" she pouted, pointing to what was left of their chocolate chip.
"We can bring it with us," he sing-songed, taking her hand in his.
"Wow, a comfy bed and chocolate chip ice-cream?" Kensi grinned, pulling him towards his room, "now that's what I call a great date."
"You ready for this?" Kensi asked her partner the next morning as she stood in Ops, waiting for him to be admitted as a patient in The National Clinic for Wounded Warriors.
"Marty Deaton is," he murmured quietly, knowing his com could pick it up.
"Mr Deeks, you are to rendezvous with Doctor Murphy, he is going to get you settled. Ms Jones and Mr Beale are conducting comprehensive background checks and so far Doctor Murphy clears. As for the other men you met, they will be interrogated by Mr Callen and Mr Hanna today and are going to be aware of your undercover status but are prohibited to divulge it to any other members of staff or patients. Your primary focus is to be Jeremy and Marlowe…Mr Monroe will be acting as your visiting relative," Hetty trailed off, watching as Deeks entered the building and was escorted to reception.
"Roger that," came the soft reply.
"Okay," Nell mumbled to herself, tapping on her tablet, pulling files on the nurse and the councillor, "we've got Derek Reed, twenty-seven, no criminal record, lives alone, modest finances—"
"And we've got Jack Bennett, thirty-two, no criminal recor—"
"Wait, what did you say, Eric?" Kensi interrupted, crossing the room in a flash, staring at the tech-analyst.
"Uh…no criminal record?"
"No, what did you say his—"
"Mr Deaton, please follow me, I'll show you to Doctor Murphy's office," a very familiar voice on the large screens interrupted her as a tall, brunet, very familiar man with green eyes approached him, his face in a clear shot as Deeks' button recorded everything.
Kensi's heart stopped. Her blood running cold. No, it couldn't be…he couldn't be him…
She stepped closer, her dark eyes glistening as she stared up at the man who looked exactly the same as she remembered, had barely aged a day since she last seen him on Christmas Eve when she was 21 years old, just before he left her forever...
"Jack?"
A/N: DUN, DUN, DUN! The fiancé returns! :O I know, I know, I'm so cruel with the timing. They just had their first date and Densi sexytimes is so close to finally happening and BAM! In walks Jack. Do I feel bad? Kinda. But it'll all work out readers, that I promise :D
NEXT CHAPTER TEASER:
"And I just want to watch some TV, okay? Preferably something where hot people kick bad guys' asses and everything is freaky and exciting."
"Supernatural?"
"I was thinking something more along the lines of—"
"Porn?"
"Oh my god," Deeks groused, not looking forward to another therapy session with his girlfriend's ex-fiancé and having to go along with Kensi's not-believable-at-all tactic of 'everything is okay despite my world being turned upside down.'
How was this his life?