A/N: I've had a few people express concern or dismay with the version of Deeks in this story. I freely admit that he's a little different than the one we're accustomed to and that I typically write. I do not like to see or write Deeks as weak, foolish, or incompetent. However, in this story I have him in an abusive relationship, not fighting back in many instances, and even trembling following altercations. That all might seem like indication of weakness, but when this story came to me, it occurred to me that even the strongest people can live with abusive people in their lives. And they might stay silent all the more because it's assumed they can't be abused. Anyway, that is my reasoning for this story and for this version of Deeks.
Once the shock wears off, anger sets in. Anger at Sylvia for questioning his loyalty, after everything he'd put up with over the course of their relationship. Anger at himself for not leaving the first time she threw a dish during an argument or the thousand little, and not so little, things she'd done.
Deeks had tossed the flowers and food, appetite nonexistent, and cleared off the bed in the spare room, staying there until he got too antsy and decided to go for a run.
He's gone on a lot of early morning, sometimes late night, run lately. It's an excuse to get out. Mind numbing. Sometimes a punishment for letting things go so far and so long that he now feels trapped.
The sun is just rising when he finishes, soaked in sweat, legs shaking, but his mind unfortunately still a mess. He decides to shower at their local gym rather than running into Sylvia if she hasn't left for work already. Right now, he doesn't think he can stomach pretending everything's alright, which is her standard practice after a fight.
So, he heads in for work early, brushes up on the updated LAPD handbook and offers to help out the guys in the motor pool to pass the time and keep his circling thoughts at bay.
"Deeks, I didn't know you were thinking of picking up another profession," Kensi teases when she finds him elbow deep in an engine next to what of the mechanics an hour later.
"It's aways good to have a fallback," he replies while watching the mechanic replace a spark plug. "Especially since I don't plan to go back to law any time soon."
"You're not thinking of abandoning us, are you?" Her voice is still teasing, but he can she's curious.
"Nah. I just like learning new things." Wiping his oily hands off on a rag, he pats the mechanic on the back. "Thanks for the lesson, Greg."
"Anytime," Greg says.
As they walk back to the office side of the building, he feels Kensi's eyes on him. He knows he's not acting like himself, and it's making her suspicious, but he can't muster the will to force cheerfulness today.
"So…you're here early," Kensi finally comments. Prying without prying.
"Yeah." He scratches the back of his head, brushing his bangs off his forehead. Damn, he forgot to gel it back today. "Sylvia and I had a fight." He glances to the side before he can stop himself, fiddling with his watch to cover the tell. It's a piece of the truth; enough to satisfy Kensi's curiosity and to get some of the weight off his chest.
It feels surprisingly good. He hadn't expected that.
"Oh Deeks, I'm sorry," Kensi says, her regret genuine as she stops, hand brushing his elbow. "Was it a bad one?"
"Wasn't great." He feels a rush of shame at admitting it, getting too close to the truth now.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He does, he really does, but he can imagine Kensi's expression shifting, her well-intended sympathy disappearing to be replaced by disgust and anger.
"Not really," he settles on.
"Ok. The offer stands if you change your mind," Kensi assures him, like she always does. "I'm sure you guys will figure it out."
Right, because they're the perfect couple. Deeks pushes that bitter thought away, knowing he won't get through the day if he continues to let this dog him.
"Thanks, Kens." Then without any transition, he asks, "How was your date?"
Kensi, God bless her, goes along with it.
"Actually, I took your advice and passed over both of those guys. Went out with the Cupcake Squad for this thing where you paint while you drink wine," she says.
"Oh my god, I have to see your painting," he begs and Kensi pulls outraged face.
"Hey, my final product was gorgeous."
Deeks watches her pull up a picture on her phone, her enthusiasm making him smile for the first time this morning.
As the day goes on, Deeks keeps the superficial conversation going. He tells her about a surfing tournament he competed in when he was 15, the time his childhood friend tried to convince him to take a neighbor's car on a joyride.
She's not sure if it's an attempt to distract himself or her, but she doesn't try to redirect him. He's clearly not ready to talk about anything else.
Plus, it's preferable to the troubled look in his eyes when the conversation lapses.
A series of minor traffic violations and non-violent crimes keep them busy throughout the morning and early afternoon. After finishing with a trespassing report, they passed a blue Corolla parked haphazardly on the side of the road.
"You see that?" Deeks asks, and Kensi nods, turning around to pull behind the car while he calls in the stop.
The back door on the left is open and a woman is bending inside. As they approach, she straightens, running over with a frantic expression.
"Oh my god! Please help me. My daughter—she was eating and started choking and now I think she's not breathing," she gasps out, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she leads them back to the car, Deeks reaching inside before she finishes speaking.
The little girl is about six or so, hair pulled up into little brown puffs at the top of her and in a dress with a strawberry pattern. Her eyes are wide with fear as she grips the arm rests on her car seat, a horrible wheezing sound the only noise she makes. The remnants of a takeout meal is scattered on floor of the car.
Deeks quickly pulls her from the car, setting her on her feet. She yanks back from him in fear, but he quiets her with a soft word of assurance Kensi doesn't catch as she puts in a rescue for an ambulance.
"Selena," her mother whimpers, hands clasped over her chest.
"It's going to be ok," Kensi tells her, taking her hand as Deeks gets to his knees, placing one fist just below the little girl's sternum and cupping his other hand over it.
He pushes in and upward motion several times, his face tense with concentration. Kensi holds her breath, silently praying right along with Selena's mother. With the sixth push, Selena makes a retching noise, expelling the object she choked on, along with everything else in her stomach, and catching Deeks in the spray.
Selena drags in a short, gasping breath, silent for a few seconds, and then starts sobbing, running to her mother, who catches her in her arms.
"Thank you," she repeats, over and over again, holding tight to her daughter. "You saved my baby's life."
"Just glad we were around," Deeks says, guiding her to a patch of grass. "Why don't you have a seat."
"An ambulance is on the way. They'll check Selena over and make sure she doesn't need to go to the hospital," Kensi adds.
The whole process takes another hour, but in the end, Selena is deemed in good health. Her mother gives each of them a hug, expressing her gratitude once more before they part ways.
"Good work, partner," Kensi compliments him on their way back to the cruiser. Deeks shakes his head with a self-deprecating smile.
"You would have done the same." He glances down at his stained clothes, nostrils flaring. "The movies always make it so much more glamorous though. You mind if I change out of this before we go? I don't think I can take the smell for the rest of the day."
"Oh, please do," Kensi says, opening the back and grabbing his bag with a spare uniform.
Grimacing, Deeks set his gun belt to the side, and unbuttons his vomit splattered shirt, balling it up. Unfortunately, his under shirt hadn't escaped the nastiness either, a dark stain having seeped through into the white material. He tugs that off too, his bare skin tan except for a blackish-blue bruise on his chest that has Kensi's eyes widening in shock.
It's a fist mark, so clear it might as well have been drawn on, planted firmly in the center of his chest. And it's too small to belong to the average sized man. Suddenly, something clicks and she feels sick.
He and Sylvia fought last night. Oh god. It makes perfect, awful sense.
His black eye wasn't the result of falling off his skateboard. He hadn't been getting into bar fights, or some other nefarious activities like she'd feared. It's so much worse than that. Because she knows. They've encountered dozens of women, children–little Taylor–for the bruise to not shine like a blinking warning sign.
Unaware of her sudden and stunning realization, Deeks quickly tugs a white t-shirt over his head, concealing the bruise again. Usually he's so careful, having the perfect explanation ready for every bruise, every cut, but today he seems to have forgotten himself.
Maybe he's forgotten in his haste to get out of his nasty clothes. Or the injuries are so commonplace he can't keep track of them.
Whatever the reason, Kensi can't stop herself from staring at the spot, now covered in white fabric.
Deeks looks up suddenly, damp curls flopping in his eyes, and she hastily pulls up a blank expression, hoping he can't read the horror, the realization in her eyes.
"You alright?" he asks, and she could almost laugh if it this wasn't so horrible. Of course, he's worried about her.
"Um…" She should say something. She should do something. Instead, she watches Deeks finish dressing, replace his gun, tug the wrinkles from his shirt. "Yeah, I'm fine," she hears herself mutter even though she's never been less fine.
"Ah, I know what's wrong. We missed lunch," Deeks deduces with a knowing nod. "I saw a Subway down the street we can stop at."
She should say something, but she doesn't. She lets Deeks buy her a lunch she can't stomach. She lets him pretend that everything is ok. That there isn't a giant bruise on his chest or a fading scar on his cheek. She lets him keep up the charade.
A/N: If you're at all angry with Kensi at the end here, please know there's a reason and a method to my madness.
Thanks to mashmaiden for her help with this chapter!