Because ECO talking about the zombie apocalypse on Instagram makes my brain do weird things.
The streets of Los Angeles aren't the same as he remembers from his childhood, or hell, even from a few weeks ago. It all happened so fast that sometimes he thinks that this is just the longest nightmare he's ever had. Maybe he'll wake up soon, wrapped around a beautiful brunette instead of his shotgun.
Detective Marty Deeks anxiously pulls up to their meeting spot by the water on his motorcycle. For the first time in years, he proudly wears his badge displayed on his buckle for anyone that is left to see and respect. He is here to serve and protect his fellow man, and to fucking destroy those that are responsible for this hell he is barely living in. The team, or what is left of it, split up and took bikes through the streets that looked far more like the book of Revelations than Tinseltown, USA, to find survivors and take them to safety on the ships at port.
He hasn't seen a friendly face in days, and longs for the laughter and teasing from his friends. He longs for the touch and smell of his partner, to feel her warm soft flesh against his again. It is already an hour past their scheduled meeting time, and the longer he waits, the more he fears he'll never be a part of anything happy again.
A familiar frame comes into his line of sight, her small body stumbling through the wreckage to reach their safe place. Hetty. Deeks climbs off of his bike and waits excitedly for his boss. Maybe she has good news. Maybe she knows where everybody else is. Or maybe he's just not the only person still alive in this wasteland.
But a cold chill takes over his body as her appearance becomes clearer. He recognizes the gray pallor, the black eyes, and the weepy mouth. He fights the urge to call out to her. She won't answer anyway. Closing his eyes, he says a prayer to no one and anyone and pulls his pistol out of his pants. His mind forces him to remember that even as a living being, she was fallible. He pictures Kensi's face and her tears after her ordeal in the desert instead of the day he was offered a job that would forever change his life. As he opens his eyes and sets his sights, he tells himself that Hetty is no longer the woman he once thought of as a surrogate mother. Now, she is nothing.
Closer and closer she approaches, quiet and dead as the night. His ammunition is running low, and he can't afford to miss. Just a few more feet and he'll be ready. He has to be ready.
Without flinching, he fires two shots to the center of her forehead and is surprised that he feels very little emotion as he watches her melt into the broken asphalt. He turns away, avoiding the dead eyes that watch him as he walks to the outer perimeter of their boat shed. This place and its familiarity offers a small amount of comfort and hope to him. The others will come. He just has to be patient.
Settling his back against the outer wooden wall, he reloads his shotgun and counts the few bullets left in his only remaining magazine. And he waits.