A/N: This idea was originally suggested by mashmaiden and is the next in a series about Deeks at FLETC, but deviates from canon. I put took me a very long time to figure out and I'm still not sure if I am fully happy with it.
In a previous fic, an instructor had asked Deeks to speak on his experience when he was tortured by Sidorov. Since this deals with some events from Descent/Ascension, there is mention of violence, trauma, and PTSD symptoms.
Deeks let out a very long breath as he waited for other students to arrive. After a lot of consideration, he had decided to grant Flores' "offer". He still absolutely hated the idea, but he knew he was technically doing Flores a favor. Plus, Flores wasn't wrong. Most of the current candidates had never experienced anything as traumatic as he had.
He hoped they never would.
The night before he'd spent a couple hours going over a rough draft of his presentation. Deeks had also covered some ground rules with Flores. Although he had no control over what questions his classmates would ask, he reserved the right to refuse to answer.
Pulling in another long breath, he closed his eye and rolled his neck a couple of times.
"You ok, Deeks?" Flores asked, actually looking concerned. He had an odd mixture of ruthlessness and deep understanding which didn't necessarily work well together.
"Yeah, fine. I'm good." He felt vaguely queasy and restless, but he wasn't about to tell Flores that. "We never discussed what I should do if no one has questions," he added. "Do you have a backup lecture?"
"Oh, believe me, there's always questions with this case. We'll be lucky if we get out on time." He seemed to realize that he sounded a little insensitive. "Based on what I've heard about you, you can handle this Deeks. But if you changed your mind, I won't judge you."
That strange feeling of embarrassment returned, but he didn't have time to evaluate it or respond to Flores as other students started trickling in.
Deeks had purposely chosen a chair to the side and a few rows in where he wouldn't be too obvious, but could get up without too much trouble. Flores gave them a couple minutes to settle and then walked to the front of the room.
"Good Morning, everyone. I hope you're all managing your classes alright," he said. "For today's class we will be focusing on case study 9."
He paused as the majority of the class flipped to the appropriate page. Deeks' pulse pounded faintly in his ears and he swallowed twice, closing his eyes briefly. Even if the details weren't burned into his memory, he'd reviewed the case, just to be sure he wasn't caught off guard.
It was surprisingly straightforward, not overly gratuitous and Flores reviewed the details with surprising speed. There was no getting past the pictures though. They were graphic, nauseating. He knew the exact moment everyone saw them and heard someone behind him whisper his name.
When Flores ended the lecture, which was over much faster than Deeks would have liked, he nodded to Deeks and added,
"Now, some of you may know that one of your colleagues was involved in this case and he was kind enough to agree to share his experiences with us." Deeks stood up, joining Flores at the front of the room. "Please welcome Marty Deeks, former LAPD Detective." Flores gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a supportive pat on the arm and then sat down a few feet away.
It was clear that many of the candidates hadn't made the connection between him and the battered guy in their text book, but as he glanced around, realized that maybe half the class were watching him with the same strange reverence Omar, Jake, and Charlie had when they first met.
Clearing his throat, he pulled in yet another shallow breath and glanced down at the small stack of notecards in his hand, then stuffed them in his pocket.
"As, uh, Instructor Flores said, I'm Marty Deeks," he started, pausing to clear his throat again. "But most people just call me Deeks. If any of you have spent more than a few minutes around me, you've probably figured out that I have a terrible habit of talking too much."
A couple people chuckled, but most stayed silent, some looking curious, others intrigued, and a few, mainly Alan, outright suspicious. He'd expected some skepticism since, as usual, he didn't fit into the mold they expected.
"Like it says in that case study, Agent Hanna and I were captured and held by a Russian arms dealer. They took turns torturing us‒" He swallowed harshly, holding back the shiver that crept up his spine and continued. "‒to gain information about a colleague who was undercover.
"They had us in separate rooms, but I could still see what they were doing to Agent Hanna. I couldn't do anything though because I was bound to a chair. I could only watch as they electrocuted him and wait to see what else they had planned for me."
Before he could continue, Alan raised his hand, his gaze almost defiant and angry as he waited for him to respond.
"Did you have a question?" Deeks asked mildly.
"What was it like?" he said, watching Deeks eagerly, and maybe with a touch of disbelief in his voice as he eyed him. "The case study mentioned that you experienced dental trauma, but it didn't really go into detail."
Flores started to intercede from behind him, but Deeks held up a hand, holding him back. If Alan wanted details, he could give him details. He'd avoided the guy as much as possible and put his arrogance and aggressiveness down to immaturity, but now Deeks was truly annoyed.
"No, it's ok." He smiled tightly at Alan. "One guy shoved this metal device in my mouth so I couldn't close it. Then Sidorov got out a drill and demanded to know the truth. The whole time I was lying my ass off, trying to keep it together even though I knew he was going to stick that thing in my mouth."
His breath hitched a little as he felt the phantom pain of the drill bit obliterating his teeth. Someone swore under their breath and Deeks felt perverse satisfaction when Alan squirmed uncomfortably.
Forcing the memories back, he took a couple of slow breaths and then added,
"I ended up with multiple broken teeth, damage to my mandible, and shredded gums-so yeah, dental trauma as they so nicely put it." Maybe that was going a step too far, but it seemed pointless and Flores had wanted them to know what it was really like. "It took years for me to stop flinching when I heard a drill or to make it through getting my teeth cleaned without almost knocking the hygienist's lights out. To this day, it's probably the single most horrific thing that's ever happened to me."
Everyone's eyes were on him, the anticipation and tension almost tangible. A woman-he thought her name was possibly Maria-raised her hand and Deeks nodded for her to speak. Unlike some of her peers, she wasn't staring at him like he was a particularly interesting soap opera.
"You said it took you years to get over the trauma," she started a little hesitantly. "Exactly how long did it take?"
"I wish I could tell you that there's a point when it no longer affects you, but it never really happens," Deeks said with a gentle smile, sorry he couldn't give her the answer she so clearly wanted. He saw her face fall and he realized just how young she was and probably pretty horrified at this point. "The memories and dreams and all the other symptoms can lessen over time. They never go away though. That trauma, those scars, they are with you forever."
"So, you're saying there's nothing we can do about it?" Another student asked, sounding annoyed and maybe a little scared. "If something like this happens to us, we just live with the trauma for the rest of our lives."
Deeks shook his head.
"No, there's a lot you can do. Go to therapy, let the people you love help you, and whatever you do, don't isolate yourself." A memory of eating bad takeout with Kensi when he was at his lowest point came to him and he added, "Whatever you do, don't try to face if alone. Believe me, your friends and family will be everything."
The questions continued for the remainder of the class and as Flores predicted, they went over by 15 minutes. Deeks was completely exhausted and a little shaky, but overall, not as much as he had expected. He would probably pay the price for being so explicit about his injuries with a resurgence of nightmares.
"Nice work," Instructor Flores complimented him as he was packing up his notes and untouched book. "I didn't expect you to be that…open."
Deeks grimaced, realizing that he'd basically taken over the class and gone completely off script from what they discussed.
"Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away."
"No, you got the point across. And that's what they needed." Flores patted his arm and nodded his appreciation. "Thank you."
Deeks left the room, intending to skip lunch and go straight to bed until his next class. Maybe he'd get in a quick call to Kensi. The sound of her voice sounded very appealing and comforting right now. He was about halfway down the hall when someone called out,
"Deeks!" He groaned, recognizing Alan's distinctive voice and turned as he approached, not up for dealing with him at the moment. He stopped a couple feet from Deeks, eyeing him warily.
"Was Everything you said in there true?" he asked and Deeks rolled his eyes, huffing out an exasperated sigh.
"No, Alan. I just made it up so I could get free implants," Deeks answered derisively. "Now are you done trying to intimidate me? Talking about the guys who drilled holes in my mouth is a little bit exhausting."
Alan flinched, but didn't back down.
"I wasn't trying to insult you." He glared at Deeks as though he'd done something wrong.
"So, implying that I embellished a case to make myself sound better isn't an insult?" Alan muttered a fairly creative curse under his breath and then said,
"I'm sorry for what I said the first time we met. I was wrong about you, ok?" He shook his head, jaw clenched like the words were almost painful for him to say. Looking at the ground, he admitted, "Look, I'm struggling with a lot of the courses."
"And you're telling this to the guy you hate because…?" Deeks asked, not overly surprised to hear that Alan wasn't doing well. He'd heard quite a few stories about him clashing with instructors among other things.
"Because I need help and you seem to actually know what you're doing," Alan said bluntly, apparently past his embarrassment. "So, what do I need to do?"
Deeks blinked at him for a second, resisting the urge to laugh. Even in a moment of crisis, the guy was still making demands.
"Well one thing that I always have to remind myself about is to not let yourself get cocky."
Alan gave him an incredulous look and shook his head.
"What? That's your expert advice? Don't be cocky."
"A piece of it. It's easy to get full of yourself. I do it all the time, but there's always room to grow. New things to learn," Deeks told him with a shrug.
"What could you possibly have to learn?" Alan asked acerbically. "I've seen you in most of these classes and you don't even break a sweat. It's freaking annoying."
Deeks actually did laugh then and nodded.
"I do have a lot of experience. Like you pointed out, I'm the old guy." Alan didn't look amused so he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Look, if you want, you can join the study sessions I have with some of other guys. But if you do, you need to lose the attitude because there's no time for that."
Alan clenched his jaw, but nodded in apparent agreement.
"I'll think about it." With that he turned abruptly, adding a terse, "Thanks." As he walked away.
Deeks just watched him go, shaking his head, and glanced down at his watch. If he hurried, he could maybe just squeeze in a half hour nap and the call to Kensi.