A/N: This chapter is heavy on the hurt/comfort side of the story. Which, I think we all can agree Deeks highly deserves after everything I and Sylvia have put him through.
Deeks stops in the middle of the den, one hand still cupped over half his face still looking as lost as he had outside. He's pale and sweaty, and she knows she should probably do something about that, but exactly what is escaping her.
After a minute of standing there, she pulls herself together and leaves him in the den to go in search of a towel to staunch the bleeding. It feels odd to be pilfering through their belongings without Deeks, knowing that many of the items belong to the woman who hurt him so much. Pushing down her squeamishness, she grabs a few face towels from the bathroom, soaking one with water.
When she returns to the other room, Deeks has moved to the couch, head tipped forward, with his nose pinched between a thumb and forefinger. His has his other hand cupped below to catch any stray drops. There's a small pool in his palm that Kensi can't seem to avert her eyes from.
"Here," she says, and nudges his hand with one of the towels. Deeks takes it, keeping his head tilted down as he makes the switch. It doesn't escape her notice that he hasn't looked at her once in the last five minutes.
That'll come with time, she tells herself. She can't push him. It's hard to sit in the silence when Deeks is usually the one filling it.
Eyes drawn to his cupped hand again, she grabs one of the damp towels, and starts wiping at the quickly drying blood. It turns the pale blue towel a rusty color.
"You don't have to do that," Deeks says, immediately trying to pull his hand from her grasp. She tightens her hold slightly, not enough that he couldn't pull free if he really wanted.
"I know." She pauses, glancing up to see Deeks looking at her over the quickly reddening cloth, his eyes tight with a pain that isn't merely physical. He inhales deeply, shoulders rising with it, and then nods once, which Kensi takes as assent.
It only takes a couple of minutes to clean off most of the blood, though his nail beds are stained pretty badly. His other hand is also coated with a fair amount of blood, but that will have to wait for later.
"Thanks," Deeks mutters when she finishes, eyes once again completely concealed by lashes and towel.
Nell pops her head in the door, phone still to her ear. She takes in Deeks' hunched posture, eyes tightening in concern. "Hey, ambulance should be here in about 20 minutes. They got hung up by a crash."
"Good."
Nell nods to Deeks, raising an eyebrow, and Kensi cocks her head in answer.
"I'm not dying," he speaks up, because of course he picked up on their silent conversation. As annoying as it is, she's relieved he's cognizant enough to notice.
"Alright then. I'll keep you updated," Nell responds with another pointed nod in Kensi's direction before she disappears.
"Do you want some water or anything?" Kensi asks, because there's not much else she can do for him at the moment.
Deeks shakes his head. "I'd probably just throw it back up."
Between a likely mild concussion, inevitably swallowing some blood, and the stress, she isn't surprised he's nauseated. Settling a hand on his back, Kensi rubs in a circular pattern, hoping it provides some comfort.
Although Kensi's phone proves only 16 minutes pass before back up and medical arrive, it feels significantly longer. He tries to hide it, but she can tell he's getting more uncomfortable from the fine tremor rolling through his body and the way he keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs, fingers flexing every few seconds.
It's a relief when she hears sirens, even if it makes Deeks tense beside her. He probably hates the spectacle of it all. If his neighbors weren't already curious, the arrival of squad cars and an ambulance are sure to create a whole new wave of gossip and rumors.
A few minutes later, a paramedic knocks on the door, and Kensi lets her in.
"Officer Deeks," the paramedic greets him (Kensi think her name Gutierrez or something on a G). Deeks lifts his head just enough to see, and from the one eye visible under the cloth, she sees dismay that he quickly covers.
"Christine," he says as she efficiently snaps on gloves and grabs a penlight.
"That's a lot of blood, Deeks." Kensi agrees with her assessment; the entire rag is soaked now along with the front of his shirt. Though not as significant, a cut on his forehead has glued his bangs to his skin. "Go ahead and move your hand so I can take a look," Christine instructs as she drops to one knee in front of him.
He drops his hand, and Kensi make a small noise of dismay. The lower half of his face is entirely covered in a mixture of drying and fresh blood. In the last 20 minutes, dark splotches of color have had that chance to grow along his right cheek, temple, and around his nose.
"I don't think it's broken," Deeks tells Christine in a nasally, wet voice. Christina hums softly, gently probing the bridge of his nose with index and middle fingers. He winces, and another small stream of blood trickles down his upper lip.
"I agree it's probably not broken, but there's definitely some significant internal damage otherwise it would have stopped bleeding by now," she says, moving higher to gently examine his eye socket and cheek bone. "I don't feel any obvious breaks so that's good."
"Small mercies," Deeks mutters grimly, lifting the rag to his mouth and spitting out some blood. Kensi's stomach turns, not at the gore, but the graphic reminder of the violence done to him. By someone who supposedly loved him.
Christine doesn't comment on that, continuing to record and examine his injuries thoroughly. Although she clearly is concerned, she doesn't give into the emotion, remaining professional sympathetic.
"Alright, and open your mouth."
The split in Deeks' bottom lip stretches with the movement, sending a fresh rivulet of blood down his chin. Pointing the flashlight in his mouth, Christine runs her gloved finger along his teeth and gums, gently peeling his swollen bottom lip back to reveal a deep gash even with his front teeth.
"Your teeth appear intact. Do any of them feel loose or painful? Do you have any significant pain in your jaw?"
Deeks shakes his head in answer to both questions.
"Good. I'm going to pack your nose with some cotton pads which will stop some of the bleeding, but when you go to the emergency, I recommend you get x-rays just to make sure there's no smaller breaks or hairline fractures anywhere. You also might need a few stitches in your lip if the bleeding doesn't stop." Grabbing a few items from her kit, she takes two small tubes of cotton and carefully inserts them into either nostril.
Deeks doesn't make a sound or give any other indication that he's in discomfort, but Kensi knows it has to be beyond painful. When she finishes with that, Christine gives him a fresh pad of gauze to replace the now soaked-through rag.
"Ok, I'm going to leave the rest to the doctors at the ER," she decides. "I assume you don't want a ride in?"
His shoulders tense and he looks to Kensi with an unspoken question, and even if she didn't plan on driving him already, she can tell how much he hates the idea of taking an ambulance.
"I've got it," Kensi says, and his answering look is one of relief and gratefulness.
Since Deeks isn't considered in serious condition (Kensi would beg to differ), the on-scene officers take both his and Kensi's statements. They'll have to go in to the station later to file charges and answer any further questions.
Deeks keeps his answers short, voice and eyes distant as he recounts the events leading up to his decision to leave Sylvia, her arrival today, and subsequent attack.
When it's Kensi's turn, she has a much more difficult time remaining neutral. She wants to describe every single threatening text Sylvia sent him, the manipulation, every injury at her hands, no matter how minor. That won't help Deeks though; she needs to be a credible witness, not his biased partner, whatever path Sylvia's arrest takes.
Then finally they're allowed to leave. Deeks hesitates at the door, glancing at the two squad cars still out front. "Did Nell say if she's still here? I don't think I can handle seeing her again right now."
"They've taken in her in already," Kensi confirms. "Nell said they're just finishing up witness interviews."
He exhales in obvious relief, and doesn't resist Kensi sliding and arm around his back when he sways on the way through the door. She stay with him, a shield and support as they walk by the lingering spectators, past the two cops who they've both worked with before, and past the spot on the driveway stained with drops of Deeks' blood.