The next week passes with a surprising lack of drama. Deeks settles into a routine of waking up early to make them breakfast, then goes off to talk with his lawyer or handle other business while Kensi finishes getting ready for work.
Sylvia has slowed her wall of messages to a handful a day and occasionally not at all. Even though she hasn't said as much, Deeks knows Kensi views it as a good thing. She wants Sylvia to have as little contact as possible. Deeks on other hand, finds the silence foreboding. At least when she's texting him, he has some idea of her frame of mind.
For Kensi's sake, he doesn't press the point. She worries about him enough without adding on more.
Otherwise, he's going a little stir crazy. He's not supposed to exert himself much since it might aggravate his various injuries. He can't work, his apartment search has stalled out for the time being, and he's done as much as he can on the legal front. There's a stack of books by the couch and Kensi's helpfully written down a schedule of the local cable offerings, yet he'd too antsy to enjoy anything leisurely.
It's almost a relief when he has his next doctor's appointment to break up the monotony. At least it gets him out of the apartment, and he's mildly hopeful that a few of the restrictions will be lifted. This time he goes alone; it's the first time he'd driven in a week, and it's strangely liberating even if it is a little lonely without Kensi. She'd offered to come with, but he figures she's done enough hand-holding for him in the last few weeks.
His appointment is with his regular physician, Dr. Amy Kowalski, whom he's had since he graduated college. When she walks into his appointed examination room, she greets him with a sardonic smile, and a firm handshake.
"Well, Marty, seeing you before the new year was not on my bingo card," she says.
"Not mine either," Deeks drawls, and she nods, hooking her foot around base of a wheeled stool, and drawing it closer.
"So, I see you went all-out for this one," she comments, quickly reviewing his chart. "Internal septal tear, labial trauma, bruised ribs, general facial bruising, and a mild head contusion." She glances up. "Did I miss anything?"
"No, uh, that's pretty thorough." He sighs, waiting for the comments about the source of his injuries or questions about previous incidents, but they never come. It's one of the things he's always appreciated about Dr. K; she's forthright without pushing him past his comfort zone.
"Ok. And how's the pain?"
"Not bad."
She smirks. "Like you'd tell me anyway. Seriously though, take pain meds if you need to. Even if it's just over the counter. You don't need the added stress on your body of dealing with that." Deeks gives her a reluctant nod, and she apparently decides that as good as she'll get.
Then she runs through an impressive list of possible symptoms. Is he experiencing dizziness. Does he feel any nausea? Is there any lingering bleeding? Deeks gives another reluctant yes to that last one.
After that, she has him recline and begins the physical exam. Deeks jerks at the first contact of her gloved fingers on his chin, his heart rate spiking along with it.
Amy moves back instantly, and he's not so far gone that he doesn't recognize the concern in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Marty. I should have given you a chance to acclimate. Do you need a minute?" she asks.
His pulse is already coming down, though now he feels vaguely disoriented, which somehow is more alarming to him. "No, I'm ok," he assures her, convincing himself of the same as he says it. "I don't know where that came from."
"It's a perfectly normal and understandable reaction," she tells him. "Are you all right to continue now?"
"Everything looks like it's healing well," she decides 15 minutes later, flashing a light in his left nostril. His head is tilted back at an awkward angle while she inserts a small mirror, having just done the same on the right. She removes it after another minute, gesturing for him to sit up.
"So, does that mean I can start getting back to a normal routine," Deeks asks hopefully.
"Well, you said you're still experiencing occasional nasal bleeding and the wound it visibly fresh. As I said, it's healing well and quickly, but I wouldn't want you to risk permanent damage. There are also your bruised ribs to consider. I'd like to see you wait at least another 3-4 weeks before you do anything too strenuous. So, definitely not returning to work just yet and no heavy lifting. Ok?"
"Right." Deeks tempers his disappointment as best he can, flashing a smile of understanding.
"I know it's difficult," she says sympathetically. "You'll be better off in the end though." She tears off a script and hands it to Deeks. "I'd also like you to schedule an appointment with this otolaryngologist to confirm my diagnosis is accurate. You don't want to develop long-term breathing issues down the road."
"Is that likely?"
"No. It's just to be safe. Although, the doctor might prescribe a device for a short time."
"Awesome," Deeks says, taking the slip of paper, and tucking it into his wallet. Yet another sucky prize to add to the list.
"Now I know you're not going to like this topic even less," Dr. K. warns him, "but how are you doing mentally? I can make a referral—"
"I have a session scheduled with my therapist," Deeks interrupts before she can get too far. "And I have some good friends who are helping me out."
"I'm glad. Just make sure you actually go," she says, and he chuckles, momentarily drawn out of his frustration.
"Dr. K, sometimes I think you know me too well."
"That's probably true." Finishing up her notes, she gives him yet another script for a lower dose of pain medication, then walks him to the door. "Call me if you need anything else, and get that appointment with that specialist."
Deeks almost stops off at a grocery store to pick up the ingredients for steak dinners on his way back, but he doesn't feel like dealing with the inevitable stares and questioning looks.
Instead, Deeks starts chopping whatever vegetables he finds in the fridge, thinking of thawing out some chicken or ground beef. Kensi has a later shift today, so he doesn't want to make anything that won't reheat well. While the vegetables are sautéing, that he checks his phone, finding he missed a call from his mom. Against his better judgement, he plays the voicemail.
"Marty, why aren't you answering your phone? Sylvia just called me and said you moved out and you're saying the most awful things about her. Sweetie, what happened? I'm worried—"
He stops her frantic message before it's even 20 seconds in, shutting his eyes against the rage and disgust that fills him. His mother never particularly liked Sylvia, so he should have anticipated that she would go after Roberta too. He can only imagine the lies and carefully picked truths she'd shared in order to whip his mom into a frenetic state.
His hands are shaking, the right one still clamped around the chef's knife, and it takes all his effort to slowly release it. He inhales and exhales slowly several times, desperately trying to ground himself in the texture of the counter beneath his palms. It's not enough.
The room is suddenly too small, the walls too close, his skin too tight and hot, and he needs to get out. Deeks only pauses long enough to turn off the burner and pull on a pair of running shoes before he's leaving the apartment, breaking into a fast jog.
It hurts. Every step tugs at his sore body, every breath in makes his nose sting. Deeks draws on that pain, letting it replace the distress that threatens to overwhelm him. He watches the sidewalk pass under his feet for until he can no longer ignore the hitching pain in his chest or the hazy edge to his vision.
Deeks stumbles to a stop, collapsing against a lamp post, and drags in wheezing lungful of air. Something wet drips down his lip and he wipes it away, vaguely concerned when his fingers come away red. When he doesn't feel like he might pass out anymore, Deeks pushes himself to his feet.
A few people eye him warily as he edges back onto the sidewalk to start the long walk home, and it occurs to him what he must have looked like. Fortunately, none of them are brave enough to approach the beat up, bleeding guy.
"Hey Deeks, I'm back," Kensi calls out when she gets home, a bag of Chipotle in one hand. "You didn't text me back, so I got you a bowl."
She kicks off her shoes, nudging them to the side so Deeks might feel less compelled to pick up after her. Since he isn't in the living room and a quick trip down the hall to her bedroom shows the bathroom is unoccupied, that leaves the kitchen.
Her stomach drops as soon as she sees the abandoned pan and partially cooked food and Deeks' phone abandoned on the stove. Deeks would never leave a mess like that.
A dozen different scenarios, each worse than the last, run through her mind. She knows he made it back from his appointment because his vehicle is parked out front. Whispering under her breath, Kensi rushes for the back door, imagining finding Deeks passed out and bleeding on the ground filling her head as she opens the patio door. What if Sylvia found him?
The patio and small path of lawn beyond are empty though, aside from a startled rabbit. Closing her eyes, she forces herself to ignore the panic rising up her throat, and approach the situation rationally.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door closing and she runs back in, spotting Deeks' bowed head before she's fully in the room. Relief courses through her so strongly, she feels almost dizzy.
"Deeks," she breathes out at seeing him in one piece and unharmed, then almost immediately amends that thought as he turns around and she sees the blood on his lips and his sweat-stained t-shirt. "Oh my god, are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, looking anything but fine.
Still, he doesn't seem like he's been hurt, so Kensi crosses the room, and wraps him in a hug, reassured by the palpable beat of his heart. "I was really worried. Where did you go?"
Deeks eases away, putting a few extra feet between them. He seems unsettled and on twitchy despite the exhaustion caving in his shoulders. "I just went for a run," he admits after a moment.
"You what? Deeks, what were you thinking?" she snaps, angry that he would do something so risky. She never expects him to lean back even further, putting a hand up in defense and turning his head, as though he expects her to hit him.
Her anger evaporates immediately, replaced by horror and disgust. Deeks drops his hand, looking equally sick and guilty.
"Sorry," he whispers. "I'm kind of on edge. I know you would never…I think I would have done that with anyone."
"It's ok." She can't deny she feels hurt that, even though she knows his reaction was instinctual, and not a reflection of her own behavior. "I need to be more careful." She runs her eyes over him again; he looks roughly two seconds from collapsing. "C'mon, sit down and I'll get you some water and something for your face."
He's sitting with his elbows propped on his knees and head cradled in his head when she returns, and she stands for a moment, observing him while he's unguarded. She'd thought he was doing better, relatively, in the last couple days, but now she wonders if it all wasn't a front.
"Here."
His movement as he lifts his head is slow and measured, like he's guarding all his movements now. Kensi hands him a damp towel first, which he accepts and wordlessly uses to wipe his lower face. Thankfully, she doesn't see any new wounds.
She sets the glass of water nearby, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and tugs a pillow into her lap.
"So, how far did you run?" she asks eventually.
"I don't really know. A few miles, maybe more."
"Deeks!"
"I know, I know," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I wasn't paying all that much attention to distance at the time, and then it was a longer walk back than I realized. I was hoping I'd get back before you."
"I'm glad you didn't. You could have seriously injured yourself." She shakes her head, once again imagining him bleeding out somewhere. Or suffering some other crisis with no one to help him. Which reminds her. "Why didn't you take your phone?"
"I didn't even think about it that time. I just needed to get out as quickly as I could," he says.
"What happened?"
He draws in one of those soul shattering, shuddering breaths, and shrugs. "Cumulative effect. My doctor's appointment went fine, but I kind of freaked when she first tried to touch me. Like with you. And then, uh, I got a call from my mom," he adds, pursing his lips, and there's anger in his eyes amidst the tension and bleakness. "Apparently, Sylvia decided to help out and update her on our relationship status," he says and there's definite anger there.
Kensi's speechless. She could think of a thousand names to call Sylvia, but none of them seem strong enough. From what Deeks has shared about his mother, Kensi knows she's prone to hysteria, and never approved of his choice of profession.
"What did you say?"
"She'd left a message, and I wasn't in a state to call her back," Deeks says with a heavy sigh. "I was just suddenly so infuriated and felt like I could break everything around me or split in two if I didn't get out right then. So, I ran. God, sometimes, it feels like I'm going crazy."
"You're not," Kensi assures him, reaching out to rub his shoulder, and this time he doesn't react other than to lean into her touch. "Though Sylvia is many things that you'd probably prefer for me not to say."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm starting to feel less and less affection with every stunt she pulls." He slouches then, dislodging Kensi's head in the process, head tilting back on the couch. "You know, I was planning to tell my mom about all of this. I just wanted to wait until certain elements were more settled so she wouldn't be as upset. There was no reason for Sylvia to tell her because they never got along that well. She just did this to hurt me."
"Yeah, she did." She hates that it's happening this way, but she's glad that he's becoming less sympathetic towards Sylvia. He'll hopefully won't give into her manipulation when the time comes. "And she's probably going to keep doing those kinds of things to get back at your, or to get your attention."
"I'm sorry I worried you." Deeks tells her after a moment. "It's the last thing I wanted. Especially after everything you've done for me in the past few weeks."
"You're forgiven," Kensi says quickly and softly. "On the condition that next time you're feeling closed in like that, you at least try to let me or someone else you trust know. Deal?" She holds up her pinkie and Deeks snorts, but doesn't hesitate to hook his longer finger around hers.
"Deal."
"Good." Smacking her palms on her thighs, she gestures to the kitchen. I'm going to go reheat dinner, do you want to shower or eat first?"
"Eat first," Deeks decides, getting to his feet with significant effort. "I might fall over if I try to shower. Besides, you haven't told me about your new partner yet."
"Temporary partner," Kensi corrects instantly. She loops her arm through his, letting him lean on her as they make their very slow way to the kitchen. "And he's young and smart, but not nearly as funny as my real partner."
A/N: Yes, Deeks is still going through it. I promise, we are getting there, and Deeks will have better days.
