A/N: Here is another story about Deeks attending FLETC. A couple people had requested Deeks being somewhat known or famous for the Sidorov case. I already wrote one fic on that theme, but why not have more.
In some ways, this is highly indulgent on my part. There is mention of some vaguely graphic things given the subject matter. And some angst, as usual.
"Marty Deeks!" Deeks paused in the middle of the hallway, turning to find Special Instructor Daniel Flores with his head sticking out of his office. Flores taught, among other things, a series of trainings dealing with mental health and the psychological aspects that came with law enforcement. Deeks already had a class on counseling victims with him the week before.
"Deeks, can I speak with you for a minute?" Flores asked, waiting expectantly.
"Uh, sure," Deeks said, trying not to show his reluctance. He'd been hoping to grab some lunch before his next class, but he was still leery of rocking the boat too much. He was two weeks in and the last thing he needed was to piss off one of the instructors who seemed to like him.
He switched directions and jogged over to Flores, who was waiting just inside the doorway with his Sam-esque arms crossed over his chest. His gray hair was buzzed short, adding to the overall no nonsense attitude. From Deeks' brief experience, he was tough but usually fair.
"Good afternoon, sir, what can I do for you?" Deeks asked politely. He could just imagine Kensi laughing her head off at his deference.
"Have a seat." Flores gestured to one of the metal seats in front of his desk. He didn't sit in the more comfortable looking desk chair, but instead stood in front of Deeks, scrutinizing him for several long, uncomfortable moments. "You nervous?"
"Actually, I'm having flashbacks to being called down to the principal's office." Flores barked out a laugh at that, nodding in apparent appreciation.
"I like your sense of humor, Deeks," he said. "Most of the kids in here are so tense they look like they're about to have an aneurysm."
"It probably helps that I've had some experience," Deeks said with a shrug and Flores snorted loudly, leaning with his back against the front of his desk.
"Some? Kid, you worked on an NCIS team for what, 10-12 years? You probably could be teaching some of these classes."
Deeks smiled a little. He tried to keep his connection with NCIS to himself as much as possible. Given the rules that were waived to get him into FLETC in the first place, it seemed in his best interest to try and keep a low profile. He never knew when someone who had a grudge against Hetty, him, or just their team in general might decide to act on those feelings. And he only had one shot at this.
"That's right, Sir." When Flores continued to look at him expectantly, he added, "I started out as a detective with the LAPD and then was brought in as a liaison between the two agencies."
"That's what I read," Flores said, his expression speculative. "You were employed by LAPD until earlier this year when they cut your position due to restructuring."
"You've been looking into my history?" Deeks asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. In his experience, it was never a good thing when people started searching without due cause.
"Don't look so worried, I've only heard good things about you. Well, there were an awful lot of comments about your hair, but that's the least of my problems." His eyes narrowed as he looked at Deeks with an expression he couldn't identify. If he was pressed, he might say it was something like respect. "I actually knew about you before you came here. It took me a minute to place you when I read your name in the lineup, but as soon as I saw you, I knew."
"Knew what, Sir?" Instead of answering, Flores grabbed a booklet with the FLETC logo on it and flipped to a dog-eared page.
"Did you know that we use real-life cases for many of training scenarios?" he asked.
"Yes," Deeks answered slowly, not really following the non-sequitur. "I'm not sure where this is leading, Sir." Flores handed him the book, nodding to the page he'd turned to.
"You're featured in one of them." Only years of practice and conditioning kept Deeks from flinching as he glanced down at the page.
There was a full color picture, in nauseating detail, of him post fun times with Sidorov and his drill. God, he'd forgotten about all the blood, how swollen his jaw was. His hand was halfway to his mouth before he caught himself and hastily dropped it to his knee.
He stared at the picture for several moments, the words surrounding the image blurring together. It must have been taken immediately after the paramedics arrived. He didn't remember anyone having a camera. Then again, parts of that day were entirely missing from his memory, some horribly vivid and forever burned into his psyche.
His hand trembled a little as he flipped to the next page, which fortunately didn't have any more pictures of him. Deeks caught the words "dental" and "trauma" and forced himself not to clench his jaw.
"I, uh, I had no idea I was so famous," he muttered flatly. "Why are you showing me this?" Deeks finally glanced up at Flores, who looked sympathetic, but also strangely eager.
"I was already an instructor here when this happened. One of my buddies worked with your team on the case and I'll never forget how he sounded when he described the torture you and Agent Hanna survived. He quit after that," Flores explained. His tone was casual, almost conversational, and Deeks was suddenly angry.
"Well, I'm really enjoying this, but I have another class in 30 minutes and I haven't eaten lunch yet." Actually, he felt fairly nauseous, but he needed to leave before he embarrassed himself or said something he couldn't take back. He tossed the booklet to Flores, not caring when it smacked against the desk and crumpled to the floor.
"Deeks, I didn't do this to bring back bad memories for you," Flores said, grabbing for his arm. Deeks jerked away before he made contact and he dropped his hand, seeming to realize the foolishness of the action.
"Then why did you? You had to know this wouldn't go down well."
"I started teaching this course about six years ago. I pushed to have this case, to have you, included as once of the studies. It is horrific. And that's why I knew I needed to show it to incoming agents. Nothing is as effective at showing what is possible as cases like this."
Deeks was still not happy with him, but he understood the point he was making.
"And this was the best way you could think of to break it to me?" he asked. Flores actually looked a little embarrassed at that.
"I've never had a student with your experience before and I wanted to make sure you weren't thrown off guard in class," he said.
"Yeah, you, uh, might want to work on your technique a little. Cause this leaves something to be desired."
"Point taken." Flores paused, seeming weirdly hesitant to add whatever else he wanted to say. "I also had an ulterior motive for showing you this." He held up the wrinkled book. "Sometimes I have guest speakers present and if you're up to it, I'd like you to talk about your experience with Sidorov."
Deeks stared at him in disbelief for a moment and then started laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"No offense, Sir, but most people try and keep me far away from any type of recruit," Deeks said, figuring they were past the point of tiptoeing around each other. Flores had certainly crossed that line. "I think it's something to do with the hair and a failure to properly respect authority figures"
"And I bet neither of those things mattered much when you were letting that guy drill holes in your mouth to protect a colleague," Flores observed. This time Deeks didn't wince, but he still didn't appreciate the images bouncing around in his head.
"I was tied down with two guys holding my head and some kind of torture device-and I mean that literally-in my mouth. I wasn't in a position to "let" anyone do anything."
He saw Flores grimace, but he didn't seem shocked by Deeks' description.
"You could have talked. You could have given in, but you didn't and I admire that." He stepped forward, holding out his hand and Deeks shook it robotically. "I'll give you a couple days to decide what you want to do. Either way, know that I respect you, Deeks."
"Thank you, Sir," Deeks muttered, shaking his head a final time before he escaped from the room.