By the third day, Deeks started to feel a little antsy. The nausea and headache hadn't stopped completely, and he definitely still couldn't remember the last six years, but the inaction was getting to him. He'd always been active, relying on surfing or running in his most stressed or angry moments, and now his concussion limited him to slow walks around the hospital.
Even though his symptoms were improving, his doctor wanted to keep him for at least another day of observation. So, he promised Nurse Amanda he wouldn't go too far, he explored the halls and whatever public spaces he could find.
If Kensi were there, she'd probably have insisted on holding his arm or suggest he go back to his room much sooner. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how he looked at it, Kensi had been called into work. Apparently Nell Jones couldn't come in her place again, because he'd been left to his own devices.
The increased independence was nice, and he certainly appreciated a chance to process his situation without an audience. As much as he appreciated all Kensi had done for him in the last two days, she was also a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.
He could sense her disappointment every time he failed to recall and detail of their partnership. He'd been tempted to tell her a couple times that he wanted to remember too, but that would probably have made her more apologetic and jumpier than usual.
Sighing, Deeks completed a loop around the wing and headed back to his room. He'd showered this morning and changed into some of the clothes Nell brought with her, which helped him feel a little more normal, even if he didn't recognize a single article of clothing.
He had a feeling in a few days, his amnesia would become more problematic. NCIS would need a liaison who could remember how to do job, which meant he would be unemployed since he'd apparently left his legal career behind without a second glance. That terrified him.
Deeks needed to work. It had given him a purpose, even in his darkest times, and he couldn't imagine not working for any significant amount of time. He didn't have anything else consistent in his life.
Someone knocked on the door, and for once, Deeks was relieved for the interruption.
"Mr. Deeks, alright if I come in?" Dr. Lesley asked through the closed door. He quickly sat straighter, dragging a hand through his hair out of habit.
"Sure. Not like I can get up to much in here," he responded wryly. Dr. Lesley walked in, chuckling as she brought a cart with her.
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
He nodded appreciatively, genuinely laughing. "I bet you've got some stories."
"More than I care to think about," she agreed. "Some people are very uninhibited."
"Well, if you ever get bored…" Deeks trailed off, and Dr. Lesley smiled briefly before she checked his heart and blood pressure. After she recorded the results, she ran through the now familiar orientation questions, a few memory tasks, and checked his visual responses.
"Good, you're focusing and tracking within the normal range," she commented, nodding in satisfaction. "Are you still experiencing any dizziness, difficulty with balance, or nausea?"
"I only felt dizzy when I woke up this morning," Deeks told her. "I haven't had any issues walking."
"And the nausea." Dr. Lesley regarded him shrewdly.
He sighed. "It comes and goes. So do the headaches."
"That's typical. You might continue to experience both symptoms for a few weeks to months," she explained. His frustration at this news must have shown because she assured him, "You're recovering very quickly. As long as you keep eating and drinking, you should be alright. I'll order an anti-nausea prescription for when you leave just in case though."
"Thanks."
"Of course. Any questions?"
"What about my memory?" he asked, almost regretting the question immediately. "I haven't recovered anything yet."
Dr. Lesley regarded him with a kind smile.
"Mr. Deeks, you're only a few days out from your head injury. I know it's hard, but it usually takes time to recover fully. As your TBI heals, you likely will see improvement in your memory as well."
"And if I don't?"
For once, she didn't have an immediate answer. "Then we'll cross that bridge when we reach it," she settled on finally. "It will be alright."
"Yeah, of course," Deeks murmured, not particularly reassured.
"I'm going to order another round of tests, and if they're all clear, you might just go home tomorrow," Dr. Lesley said. He nodded in response, only half-listening.
"Great. Thank you, doctor."
"You're welcome. Call if you need anything." She squeezed his hand on her way out.
And then Deeks was alone with his thoughts again.
Deeks ate a mediocre hamburger for lunch, listened to two episodes of "Little House on the Prairie", and went for another walk after Dr. Lesley left. It passed a couple hours, but didn't lessen his growing relentless and apprehension.
He'd just settled in his room again, when he received yet another visitor. Unfortunately, it wasn't Kensi, but instead an impressively tall and muscular, who didn't knock and definitely didn't want to be there.
Deeks gave him a once over, and decided he wasn't an immediate threat.
"Special Agent Sam Hanna," he introduced himself, offering Deeks his hand. He had an unsurprisingly strong grip.
"Marty Deeks. I take it you're another teammate?" Deeks guessed.
"Something like that," Agent Hanna responded. "I assume Agent Blye told you—"
"I'm some kind of liaison and her partner? Yeah, she did. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around that."
"Why?"
"Because last I remember, I had a DV case on my docket. Finding out I've had an entire career and a half since then is what you might call, uh, earth-shattering," Deeks told him glibly.
"You still sound the same," Hanna muttered. He didn't sound happy about it.
"So I've heard."
"Huh."
Unlike Kensi and Nell, who had greeted him with overwhelming relief and obvious happiness, Agent Hanna seemed reserved. He regarded Deeks with something bordering on suspicion.
"You don't like me very much, do you?" Deeks asked lightly. He felt simultaneously gratified and disappointed when surprise flashed across Sam Hanna's face. He didn't deny it.
"What makes you say that?" he said.
"Believe me, I can tell." Deeks smirked for all he was worth, even though he felt a weariness born of dozens of Sam Hanna's. He'd seen similar expressions on teachers, supervisors, and most recently, his direct superior. "Let me see, you think I should cut my hair, I'm too loud, and I don't know how to comport myself like a professional," he said confidently, and Agent Hanna had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.
"We haven't always had an easy relationship," he explained vaguely.
"Yeah, that, uh, seems to be a common theme at your office. At least Kensi seems to tolerate me, which seems an important quality in a partner."
Hanna inclined his head. "We have different approaches when it comes to work. You like to be method and unpredictable."
Yeah, that definitely wasn't a compliment.
"And you're by the book, which makes sense given your military background," Deeks mused. Hanna regarded him with renewed suspicion.
"Did Kensi or Nell tell you that I used to be a Navy SEAL?"
"No, but I've been around enough veterans to recognize the stature and demeanor. And the SEALS, that's pretty hardcore," Deeks said. "I've always found the military fosters inflexibility."
The muscles around Hanna's mouth tensed, but he didn't take the bait. Maybe he felt arguing with a concussed amnesiac wasn't even fighting ground. Either way, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out two wallets, a phone, and keys. He set it all on Deeks' tray.
"Hetty asked me to bring over your personal effects. She thought they might jog your memory. And you'll need 'em once you get out of here," Hanna explained. "Kensi brought them back to the office so they wouldn't get misplaced."
"Thanks," Deeks said, this time with full sincerity. He opened the thicker wallet first, finding a few credit cards, money, two member cards for gyms, and his driver's license. He opened the other wallet next, which contained a badge and ID baring his picture and name.
The picture had clearly been taken at least a couple years ago based on his hair and his slightly fuller cheeks. An unexpected wave of grief swept through him. Here he had tangible, undeniable proof of the past six years. Detective Marty Deeks.
"Everything ok?"
Deeks jerked and snapped the wallet shut, focusing on straightening the four objects on the tray instead of looking at Agent Hanna. "Yeah, I'm good. I just—" He gestured to his head. "I get these headaches."
"Right. Kensi mentioned that. I'll let you rest then," Hanna said. Deeks glanced up from under his bangs, to offer a grim smile. He saw Hanna lift a hand, but whatever he'd planned to do, he stopped mid-action, dropping his arm back to his side. "Feel better."
Once Agent Hanna left, Deeks laid back closing his eyes tightly, his hands clenched as his chest ached with a yawning emptiness.
A/N: I just had to have Sam drop in. You know he would be suspicious of Deeks since he didn't trust him at this point.