A/N: Once again, thanks so much for all your thoughtful comments.
Terrence: You're always so kind in your reviews. If you're referring to Don taking on a mentor role, I think that would be a fantastic idea. If you're talking about more formal fostering, I don't think Deeks or Roberta would ever be in favor of it.
After a couple hours, some of Kensi's shock had dissipated and uncertainty crept in. Confronting him directly almost never worked, and was usually sure to result in one of their rare arguments. She could only imagine his response if she asked him about her suspicions.
To keep her mind busy, she grabbed a textbook on essay writing, curled up on the opposite end of the couch, and worked her way through a few prompts. She was struggling her way through devising an argument for a community tree planning program when Deeks made a throaty sound, sitting up so suddenly he nearly tumbled off the couch and the blanket Kensi had tossed over him slipped to the floor. His head whipped around, panic in his eyes for the few seconds it took him to register the familiar room.
"Welcome back to the living," Kensi said, choosing not to comment on his reaction.
"Ugh, you should have woken me up," he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Just after four. And don't worry about it. You seemed like you needed the sleep."
He looked better; not great for having slept nearly three hours, but better. Now that she was paying attention, she picked up on a dozen little things she'd overlooked or dismissed, like the faint shadows under his eyes and the lingering heaviness in his shoulders.
"That's me, life of the party. Can't imagine why the girls have stopped inviting me places," he joked, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
"Like you ever enjoy going to those parties anyway. You always pretend you're having a good time, end up talking ethics to someone in another room, and then make fun of everyone on the way home," Kensi reminded him.
She was glad for the familiar topic, since she'd been worried about giving something away. Deeks always read her face so easily, especially when she tried to keep a secret.
"That's only because there's only so many times you can hear some version of "she's hot, he's cute, and I just threw up in the bushes" before you get desperate."
"Snob," Kensi said fondly. She patted his shoulder, then stood up. Reaching down, she grabbed his t-shirt off the floor, and tossed it at him. He caught it against his chest. "C'mon." Kensi gestured for him to follow her as she picked her way around a few books and articles of clothing she'd forgotten throughout the day.
"Where are we going?" he asked, tugging the shirt over his head.
"The kitchen. I'm making pizza, and you need to supervise so I don't burn down the house."
"It'll be like the Great Waffle Incident of 94 all over again." He hopped up onto the counter next to the toaster while Kensi gathered supplies from the fridge and cabinets.
"Hey, that was not my fault. They shouldn't have put the instruction for the microwave and toaster so close to each other," Kensi objected, turning to point at Deeks.
"Right, cause ten minutes in the microwave makes perfect sense."
"Hush. I admit to my culinary failings, you don't need to rub it in." Tossing Deeks a box grater and a block of cheese, she grabbed a can opener and a can of sauce.
Together, they made two small pizzas. Once they fell into a rhythm, Kensi almost forgot that the entire venture had been a ploy to make sure Deeks ate again. The kitchen ended up covered in sauce and crumbles of cheese, which Deeks insisted on cleaning up of course while the pizzas cooked.
She could do this, Kensi decided. She could keep Deeks fed one meal at a time, if she had to. It would be worth whatever ridiculous story she might need to concoct.
Deeks left for work a little bit before her dad came home. She helped him throw together a quick meal of spaghetti and vegetables from a local market, though for once she wasn't all that hungry. Her thoughts had returned to Deeks again, leaving a sick feeling in her stomach.
"So, what did you get up to today?" Don asked once their plates were served.
"I went surfing with Deeks and then we came back here," she said briefly.
"You two have a fight or something? You're not talking my ear off about the massive wave he caught, or how you finally got up on your board before him."
"No, we didn't fight." Twirling her fork through a bite of spaghetti, she focused on making a neat little pile, hesitating to bring up the topic she'd been thinking of all day. Finally, she settled on a slightly less pointed question. "Dad, what do you know about Deeks before he came here?"
Don's brows furrowed at the non-sequitur, but he didn't seem angry or like he planned to ignore the question.
"You've probably heard more from Marty than I know," he answered.
"Assume I don't."
"Well, when they first came, there were a lot of rumors about their background. You know how I feel about rumors, so I didn't pay much attention to that." Don sighed and rubbed his hands together. "The best that I can gather is that they escaped a pretty nasty situation, and they pretty much came here to start over. Beyond that, the particulars of his story aren't mine to tell. That's up to Marty or his mom."
"Dad."
"Honey, you have to understand that this is something extremely personal. It wouldn't be right for me to tell you more. You remember how rough it was for them when they first came, right?"
"Of course. But I'm not going to judge Deeks. He's my best friend," Kensi said, offended at the thought.
"I know you wouldn't, but I bet Deeks is scared."
Kensi mulled that over for a few moments, setting her fork to the side. It didn't seem like she was going to get anymore answers. Dropping her eyes to her hands, she fiddled with her thumbnail, running her fingertip along the smooth edge.
"I think they're having a lot of money problems. More than ever," she told him finally. Don didn't comment, which confirmed her suspicions. She lifted her head, leaning forward. "You already knew that though, didn't you? It's why you let him stay for dinner so often and make extra food." She didn't attempt to hide the accusation.
Don shrugged. "I see a hungry kid, I feed him."
"And you don't ask any questions," Kensi surmised bitterly.
"That's not fair, Kensi," he said with a sharp edge to his voice that Kensi rarely heard. "Both Roberta and Marty Deeks are proud people. They're not used to asking for help, as you know. I've tried to help as much as I can without crossing over their boundaries."
Her anger dissipated in the face of her dad's reason, and gentle reprimand, and she deflated slightly, shoulders hunching.
"He's so skinny though, dad. I looked at him today…" she shook her head, not knowing how to put it into words. "Somehow I missed it and I just keep thinking of all the times I joked about food or convinced him to buy something he couldn't afford."
"You didn't know," Don assured her. "Because Marty didn't want you to."
"I'm supposed to be smarter than this though," she insisted. "Best friends are supposed to notice these kinds of things."
"I guess it won't do any good to tell you to stop beating yourself up, huh?"
Kensi shrugged. It was hard not to feel terrible when she saw Deeks nearly every day.
"Well, you might not realize it, but you've been helping him all this time even if you didn't know it," Don said, speaking quietly. "Every single time you gave him a snack or lunch. You made it a little bit easier for him."
"That's nothing dad," Kensi protested, a hint of desperation coming out. "There has to be more that we can do besides a meal or two. Mrs. Deeks should have done something before now."
"Roberta's doing the best she can with what she has," Don cautioned her gently. "I bet she doesn't even realize that Marty's been skipping meals. It doesn't make her a bad mom, just one in really bad circumstances with a boy who takes on more than his fair share of responsibility."
"You're right. She'd kill him if she knew what was going on," Kensi agreed with a touch of dark humor. She sobered quickly, picking up her fork again and dragging it across her plate with a sharp squeak. "There's gotta be someone who can help them out with bills and food."
"As much as I believe in following the rules and the organizations set up to support our citizens, calling attention to Marty and Roberta's struggles might cause more harm than good. Especially since it would take a whole lot for her to accept help from a food pantry or any of the more benign programs."
"So we just do nothing then? I watch my best friend work himself sick and probably drop out of school so he can work more?" Kensi retorted, pushing back from the table as tears suddenly filled her eyes.
"Hey now, we're not going to let anything like that happen. We Blyes look out for our own." He out a hand on Kensi's shoulder. "You help him out as much as you can like you have. Let me know if it gets any worse."
"That just seems like we're putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound."
"It's not ideal," Don agreed. "It's the best we can do right now." He gave her a little shake, then tugged her into his chest, hugging her just like he did when she was a little girl.
"You're a good person, Kensi Marie. You have such a big heart. And I know Marty is grateful to have you in his life." Kensi felt another rush of tears come at his quiet encouragement and as the weight of her realizations came to a head. She was glad she didn't have to face it alone.
"I love you, daddy."
"I love you too, my sweet girl."
Don held her until she cried herself out, then kissed the top of her head.
"Go pick out a movie to watch," he suggested. "I'll make some duros."
Kensi nodded, thumbing away the last of her tears. A movie and one of her favorite childhood snacks wouldn't fix anything, but she appreciated the thought.
Tomorrow though, she would come up with a real plan. No matter what her dad said, there had to be more she could do. No one had ever said Kensi Byle wasn't determined, or stubborn, after all.