Don got home a little before six that evening, even though he'd tried to leave work early. His mind had been with Kensi and Marty throughout the day and he wondered if he should have stayed; at the very least it would have put his mind at ease.
The car Kensi had driven sat in the driveway, which Don figured was a good sign. Kensi would have called him otherwise, or so he hoped.
When he walked through the front door, he saw Kensi on the couch and his initial feeling was one of relief, immediately followed by concern when he noted her hunched shoulders and pinched eyebrows.
"Sweetheart?"
"Dad, I'm so glad you're back," she said, uncurling and rushing to meet him. She threw herself against his chest, arms crisscrossing on his back.
"Kensi, is everything ok? Did you find Marty?" he asked, alarmed by her response.
"Yeah, he's upstairs."
He noticed she hadn't answered his first question.
"Good. Where was he?"
"I can't tell you. I don't think intended to run away or make anyone worry about him," Kensi insisted, her expression softening.
"I take it he wasn't in the best condition when you found him," Don guessed, and Kensi shook her head, a couple tears appearing at the corners of her eyes despite her desperate blinking.
"I've never been so scared for anyone in my life." Wiping at a couple more tears, she walked back over to the couch and sat, hugging a pillow against her chest. "He told me about his dad," she admitted in a whisper.
"Oh Kensi," he sighed. He could only imagine how painful that conversation had been for both of them. Kensi was far from naive, but she'd never experienced the kind of pain and betrayal Marty had. Dredging up such terrible memories must have brought it all back to Marty like the day it happened.
"Now you know why I couldn't tell you myself." Don sighed heavily, joining her on the couch. Days like today he felt a hundred instead of pushing forty.
"Yeah, I do. I just…" Kensi exhaled shakily. "The way his dad treated him and his mom, I just want to make him pay for everything he's caused. His dad dislocated his arm," Kensi said emphasizing the words with her fury. He hadn't known that particular detail, and he wished he didn't now. "If it weren't for him, they wouldn't be in all this financial trouble. How does someone do that to the people they're supposed to love?"
"I don't know, sweetheart," he admitted. "I've seen that kind of evil throughout my whole life, but I've never understood it."
"Deeks has been practically killing himself to help with bills, and his mom works all the time too. He—" she stopped herself short, not finishing whatever else she might have said. Even now, she'd still protect Marty's confidence as much as she could. "We need to help them, Deeks and his mom." It wasn't a request, but rather a demand. "Not like we have been. They need more than a few extra meals."
"We will." He knew Kensi would except nothing less and he'd elected not to interfere only as long as Marty and Roberta's situation didn't deteriorate further. He might not know all the details, but Marty running off was enough of a sign for him.
"Do you promise?" Kensi asked, regarding him with a stern expression.
"Yes, Kensi, I will help them. First, I need to talk to Marty. You said he's upstairs?" he checked, and Kensi nodded.
"He was so tired, I told him he could sleep in my room."
"I take it neither of you called his mom?"
This time Kensi shook her head, tucking her thumbnail between her teeth. "No. I didn't think she should see him like this. She was already so upset when she called this morning, I know she'd be over here right away," she explained with a pleading note in her voice.
"I understand you wanted to protect both of them, but that woman's been worried about her son all day." Kensi started to object, so he held up a hand. "I'm not mad, Kensi. We do need to call her now soon. Go upstairs and wake Marty up so we can talk."
With a reluctant sigh, Kensi pushed herself off the couch, and stalked upstairs. Despite everything, he felt just a tinge of amusement. He figured it would be a few minutes, at the very least, before Marty and Kensi made an appearance. She'd likely fill him in on their discussion and work out his story.
Scrubbing his hands through his hair, Donald took in the random belonging Kensi had scattered across the table and room. He gathered a few books and pencils up, distractedly putting them away as his mind wandered.
"Mr. Blye."
Donald turned at the sound of Marty's voice. He stood midway down the stairs, tugging awkwardly at the hem of his oversized shirt as he looked down at Don uncertainly. Kensi hadn't been exaggerating; Marty looked worn to the bone. His lank and completely uncombed curls, dirty clothes, and red eyes added to the overall impression that he was not doing well.
"Marty, it's good to see you. I'm glad you're back," he said, gesturing towards the couch. "C'mon down and sit."
"I didn't mean to cause any problems," Marty insisted. Don didn't think he'd ever seen him so uncertain and scared. "I just—" He lifted his hand in the air, letting drop back down without adding anything else.
"I know, son. I don't blame you for anything that happened the past few days. Would you come down here so we can talk. Or before you fall over."
Kensi appeared behind, her hand settling on his shoulder, and that seemed to give him the push he needed. He tripped down the stairs, sitting on the very edge of the cushion with his back so straight it had to be uncomfortable. Kensi silently followed him, sitting in the closest chair.
"I don't need you to tell me any specific details right now," Don began, because he had a feeling getting anything out of Marty would be like pulling teeth. Marty seemed relieved by that; the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "I just need to know if you were hurt at all."
"No." With a quick, almost frantic shake of his head, Marty repeated, "No, sir. I was stupid and forgot to eat or sleep, but no one hurt me and I didn't have any accidents or anything."
That was a relief "Ok. Are you in any other pain? Are you hungry?"
Marty shook his head again, though this time he looked away ever so slightly.
"I'm good. Kensi gave me some food earlier." He gave the barest hint of a smile in her direction. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. I should probably go home."
"Ah, not so fast, Marty," Don said, stopping him with a gentle yet firm hand on his forearm. "I don't know if Kensi told you, your mom called earlier and she was very concerned about you. I can't just send you home in good conscience without talking with her first."
Any relief disappeared in a second, and Marty looked ready to bolt. Kensi reacted to, leaning towards Marty. He managed to control himself though, his fingers clenching briefly before he offered one of his disarming smiles. It wasn't at its usual strength, but Donald knew most people would have bought it.
"Mr. Blye, I'm fine. You don't need to talk my mom. I'll explain everything to her. I'm not even sure she's home right now," Marty insisted.
"And I'm sure you could convince her everything was just fine, but we all know it isn't. So, I'm going to call your mom, explain that Kensi found you, and see if she can come over for dinner."
Marty shifted uncomfortably in front of him, then reluctantly nodded.
"In the meantime, why don't you take a shower?"
"I don't have any other clothes," Marty whispered.
"I'm sure I can find something for you to wear while we wash yours," Don said, giving Marty an encouraging squeeze. He caught Kensi's eye then, and she actually seemed relieved.
"I'll get you some stuff for the shower," she prompted, reaching for Marty's hand. Marty let her lead him back upstairs without any further protest, but Don saw the weariness return to his shoulders as he walked.
Once they were out of sight, and hopefully out of listening range, Don picked up the phone receiver, dialing the second number on the list they kept nearby. Rubbing his hand over his face, he listened to the ringing, and hoped he was making the right decisions.
A/N: I hope you all are still enjoying this story. Thanks as always for you thoughtful comments.