Once they get to the emergency room, they wait again. Despite all the blood, he doesn't get pushed to the front of the line. A nurse takes pity on them though, and directs them to an unoccupied exam cubicle, which at least saves Deeks from all the staring of other patients.
"Here, this should help some. Remember to keep pressure on it," the nurse says, returning with a small ice pack, a cup of water, and an extra chair.
Deeks offers her a smile that's only a fraction of its usual brightness.
When she leaves, he clambers onto the exam table, the quickly melting ice pack, held to his lower face. He curls up as much as he can while still keeping his head upright, eyes slightly dazed and distant again.
She wonders where's he going in his head, if he's repeating the last few hours over and over again. Or if he's drifting, unable to process everything. She's noticed in the past week that he periodically shuts down, whether that be zoning out for a while or sleeping more than normal.
Ignoring her natural instinct to intercede, she worries that she's been hovering closely, so she stays quiet and as far away as the confines of the cubicle will allow her, only sneaking the occasional look out of the corner of her eye.
Until he starts shifting restlessly again, and Kensi looks at him head on and finds exceptionally pale. He swallows visibly, jaw tightening as he inhales deeply through his nose.
"You ok?"
"Yeah. Remind me not to swallow so much blood next time," he bites out in between heavy swallows.
"Deeks," she admonishes softly, even as she scoots her chair closer. She doesn't think about it too much this time, just starts rubbing small circles in the accessible part of his back. After a second, he leans forward, making the quietest sound of relief when she includes his shoulders.
"Sorry, but joking helps me not think about throwing up, which sounds super unpleasant right now."
Just the thought of Deeks being sick in his current condition makes Kensi's stomach turn. If she can spare him even a little bit of pain, she'll do whatever she has to.
"What can I do? Water? I can go track down a doctor—" Deeks puts a stilling hand on her forearm as she starts to get up, already on a roll before she even gets confirmation.
"No, just…" he trails off, brushing a handful of stiff hair off his forehead. Can you just distract me? That always worked when I was a kid and I got the stomach flu. At least for a while."
"Of course. What do you want talk about?"
"Anything." He sighs, tilting his head towards Kensi.
"Ok." She casts around for something light but interesting enough to keep Deeks' attention off how terribly he felt. "When I was five, I was learning to write letters and numbers. Usually, all the early academics came pretty easily, but for some reason, I struggled with writing the number 8 and lower case "g"."
She notices Deeks relax slightly, his head inclined towards her as he listens.
"My teacher sent home a bunch of extra worksheets for me to do at home, but I still couldn't get the hang of it."
"Unbelievable, Kensi Marie Blye wasn't automatically amazing at something," Deeks teases, and it's so normal, she let's herself pretend for a second that they're in the middle of a shift, and not an emergency room.
"Oh hush." She nudges his shoulder, far more gently than normal. "Anyway, one day, I'm working on these papers, my mom's in the kitchen and I'm complaining the whole time. Eventually, she comes in and finds me under the table, moaning that I will never, ever write a "g" or an "8". The only way she got out was by bribing me with ice cream and cookies."
It's a stupid, slightly embarrassing little story, but it has the desired affect of making Deeks smile. Even if it is a little rigid and shallow.
"That's amazing," he sighs. "How long until you learned how to write them."
"Oh, a couple days I think. But I milked as many cookies out of it as I could."
Deeks huffs out a laugh, shifting so he's lying on his side, head cradled on his unused palm. He's silent for a few moments.
"Granger is going to kill me when he finds out about this," he murmurs unexpectedly, pressing his thumb and forefinger over his eyes before he remembers his injuries.
"I think that's going to be the last thing on Granger's mind," Kensi says. He may not like the added headache that comes with any additional paperwork and Deeks being on medical leave, but he cares about them when it comes down to it.
"He's always told me I'm just trouble waiting to happen."
It's said despondently, with a hint of self-loathing and acceptance. Kensi presses her lips together, trying to find the right words, ones that won't seem like she's simply placating or chastising.
"Deeks, I know that no matter what I say, you're probably blaming yourself for what happened today. Maybe you're thinking about what you could have done different, but I was there. You did everything you could to keep your interactions with Sylvia peaceful and deescalate the situation."
"Yeah, but I should have listened to you," he says, bitterness in his voice. "Even with everything she'd done before, I never expected that she would…" he seems to force out the next words. "attack me. If no other reason that because you were all right there."
"As much as I wish you had, I understand why you didn't," she tells him, and she does. "You were being a good cop and friend."
He makes a soft sound she can't interpret, head dropping lower. The conversation is far from over, but she can see his eyes drooping. She lets the silence hang for a minute or two and then starts another silly story from her childhood. Just a few minutes in, Deeks' head slumps onto her shoulder, his eyes fully closed. She catches the ice pack just as his hand drops, pressing it gently against his nose, and tugs the blanket at his feet up and around his shoulders.
An attending doctor and nurse finally come for Deeks about two hours later. Kensi nudges Deeks awake as gently as she can, but he still jerks away, arms flying up defensively, and his breathing instantly short and uneven.
"Hey, it's ok," Kensi soothes him, and he stills, visibly forcing himself to calm enough to greet the doctor, who introduces himself as Dr. Jamerson. She sees Deeks' eyes flick away several times as the nurse sets up a table with instruments and a camera, but the doctor keeps him focused with a series of questions.
When it's time for them to begin documenting his injuries, Kensi plants to slip out, giving Deeks at least the illusion of privacy. Before she can, he grabs her hand, throwing her another one of his pleading looks, desperation back in his eyes. So, she stays.
She tucks herself into the farthest corner of the room, watching, and ready to jump in if needed. They take pictures of his face from every angle, of the blood on his clothes and hands, and measure the cuts and bruises. To her surprise, Deeks reveals the partially healed bruising along his ribs, which brings on a whole new flurry of questions and pictures.
Last time she'd seen it, the discoloration had turned to a yellowish-purple color. Now his skin is a darker purple and raised again, and Kensi has to bite back a noise of rage at the sight. It must have happened when Sylvia tackled him, careless of the injuries she'd already caused.
"Ok, Mr. Deeks, we're going to see what we can do about this bleeding and get you down to radiology for some x-rays," Dr. Jamerson announces once he's finished his examination, leaving Deeks shaky and exhausted.
Amazingly, Deeks doesn't have any broken or factures bones. There's some deep bruising, but Dr. Jamerson assured him that would heal within a few weeks.
He had needed several stitches for his inner lip, as predicted by Christine, and, unfortunately, his nose hadn't stopped bleeding completely while they waited. As soon as Dr. Jamerson examined it, the bleeding had increased. The cauterization process to stop it had been blessedly short, if unpleasant and messy.
By the time he's released, with a couple of scripts and care instructions, it's nearly 8PM and Deeks is dragging. He doesn't resist at all when she helps him to her car, or takes it upon herself to stop in at the closest pharmacy to get his prescriptions filled.
Her stomach growls as she comes back to Deeks dozing in the back seat, reminding her that neither of them has eaten in hours. He startles at the engine starting up again.
"Hey, where do you want to stop for dinner?" she asks, pulling back into traffic.
"Wherever you want is fine. I'm honestly not hungry at all." In the rearview mirror, she sees him sit up and clumsily clip into his seatbelt.
"You'll feel worse if you don't," Kensi says, holding up the small white paper bag of prescriptions and shaking it. "Besides, you can't take any of these on an empty stomach."
In the end, Deeks settles on a smoothie, mostly to appease her, she thinks, but she'll take it. She orders a combo meal from the fast-food place next door, and then automatically heads back to her apartment. Deeks doesn't object. She doesn't know if he's just too tired, or if the thought of returning home is unthinkable at this point.
By the time they get settled into her apartment, it's nearly 9:30, her food is cold, and Deeks looks ready to collapse. He makes it to her couch, taking a few sips of his smoothie before he shakes out an antibiotic and pain pill into one palm and downs them with a wince.
"Ok, I'm going to put clean bedding on my bed," she says, holding up a finger as Deeks arches an eyebrow. "No jokes about me having any clean laundry. I think I have some–"
"Kens, eat your food. I'll be fine," he interrupts with a tired smile. "Your fries are going to be inedible in another ten minutes."
"Fine. But do not move from this couch." She gives him a warning look and he throws out a slopping salute, sucking disinterestedly on his drink.
She hurries into the kitchen to grab a plate, and a glass of water, because she is starving and thirsty. She's gone for all of three minutes, but when she comes back into the den, Deeks is asleep, head tilted back at an uncomfortable angle.
Kensi doesn't have the heart to wake him again, so she gingerly tugs his legs up onto the couch, tucking pillow beneath his head, and several blankets around his body. She eats her stone cold burger and fries, and then switches the TV on, muting the sound, intent on keeping watch through the night.
A/N: Technically, I think a someone from LAPD would be documenting Deeks' injuries, but we'll pretend that doctors can do it too.
This chapter also includes another bit of ejzah lore. Can you guess what it is?