DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
STORY NOTES: December 2013 - Deeks on his own.

1. "I'm a man with a mission
in two or three editions.
And I'm giving you a longing look
Every day I write the book." - Elvis Costello
.

Sent December 12, 2013 at 9:30AM PST
TO: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org
FM: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil
Subject: Sunday the 22nd

Have tix for Sunday's Clippers game against the T-Wolves. Was supposed to go with Rose but her Mom is having knee surgery next week so she'll be with her in Atlanta. Rose does not want to subject me to her post-op Mom. Or pre-op Mom, to the truthful. Since I'm still going to the game and you're my one friend who actually loves the Clippers (as opposed to bandwagon fans that have been there lately), I'm offering you the extra seat. They're great seats and freebies from, well, a high ranking official from this task force I'm on lately.

Hope you're doing well. Was glad to hear you're back in the field.

Sent December 12, 2013 at 4:17PM PST
TO: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org
Subject: RE: Sunday the 22nd

Hey Nate,

While I'm always up for good seats for the Clips, especially free good seats, I'd ask two favors. First, no head shrinking at the game and second, please don't introduce me at your back-up boo. If that's OK with you, I'm in. I'll even pick up dinner after the game. Maybe the Water Grill?

High ranking official from a task force with access to great seats, hmmmm...name wouldn't rhyme with Oarak Bobama would it? Thanks for thinking about me. Things are what they are here, catching bad guys and looking awesome doing it. Hope the task force is more fun than it sounds.

Sent December 13, 2013 at 8:54AM PST
TO: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org
FM: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil
Subject: RE: RE: Sunday the 22nd

Definitely the Water Grill. Mmmm...fish. Definitely not Oarak Bobama.

No head shrinking at the game, no introducing you as my plus one (original or back-up). I'll have the ticket sent to you via the Mission's courier drop. See you a week from Sunday. Say hi to everyone for me.

Deeks looked at the seat location and was still stunned. Maybe President Obama didn't get Nate the seats but Section 101, fourth row and an aisle seat - winning. Not winning - the Clippers. Nate was terrific company and had the most interesting way of stringing words together to not quite swear but still express his extreme annoyance with the team.

They left the game and Deeks drove them to the Water Grill - Nate took the subway to the Staples Center. Deeks recapped NCIS's last trip to the subway, including Callen and Sam on the tracks. Nate, who did a year of post-grad work at the VA Hospital on 23rd Street in New York, told Deeks he never even gets near the edge of the platform to see if the train is coming. "It's not like the train arrives any faster if you do."

Nate made reservations, which got them a booth in back and seated long before the throng of unhappy and reservation-less Clipper fans arrived. That and Deeks knew the hostess from a short undercover job two years before NCIS became something more than another law enforcement acronym. The waiter dropped off the menus and promised to return.

"I was hoping Doc would make them tougher," Deeks told Nate, bemoaning the state of his basketball team.

"Give him time. It's tough for a guy to take over a team and get rid of the stench of decades of losing. Remember, Donald Sterling still owns the team."

"Last few years have been better," Deeks conceded. "But all I want is a parade like the Lakers get, an overpriced championship hat and tee-shirt."

"Cubs fans have waited over one hundred years."

"Yeah, well, they can keep that record. One parade, one big party for the team and some swag – that's all I'm asking." Deeks said as the waiter came by for their order. After deciding to split a plate of fish tacos as an appetizer, Nate ordered the Mahi Mahi with a beer while Deeks, who was driving, got the Chilean sea bass and a near-beer. The waiter complimented them on their order before leaving. "Just once, I'd like the waiter to say 'You blew it man, you should have ordered the swordfish," Deeks joked.

"Or the Nelson Muntz 'ha-ha' laugh," Nate added with a smile. "How's it going with Nell?"

"She's smart, she laughs occasionally at my jokes and doesn't try to make bad ones of her own. All and all, not bad. I like Nell, we're good. In a lot of ways we started at the office around the same time so she's not talking about events or cases I missed before I was there."

"Have you heard from Kensi?"

"She's officially on a classified, black operations mission that is well above both my pay grade and my security clearance. How could I have contact with her?"" Deeks decided to take this conversation carefully. He knew more about Kensi's assignment than any of them thought. While Hetty told him to keep the call from Kensi quiet, and he would, he wouldn't mind showing off his detective skills. Remind someone that he was more than just Officer Joe Friday hanging out with the feds.

"That's not an answer," Nate noted.

Deeks chuckled. "If the shrink thing isn't working for you, law school could be an option."

"Also, not an answer."

"Every day I don't hear about her from Hetty is a day I'm sure she's safe and OK. If it went south, someone would tell me."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Do you?" Deeks asked.

"Are you going to keep answering with some misdirection?"

Deeks thought about his answer. Which in some ways was an answer.

"You know where she is, don't you?"

"Her exact location? Right now? No."

"But you know."

"Off the record?"

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Well, when nobody would tell me anything, I started making of pest of myself. Figured I'd get an answer from someone who just wanted me to go away."

"Did it work?"

"Not with the people I was pestering. I had a strange conversation with Hetty which caught a lot of people's attention. I used the pest and pity cards to my advantage."

Nate smiled. "You played them?"

"Not played. But there are aspects of the liaison position that nobody knows about except me. For example, the 'Can I ask you a favor, man, just between you and me' part"

"You collect favors?"

"Playing people, collecting favors, why are you choosing such ugly words for how I deal with my co-workers, Nate?" Deeks faux-chided before adopting several voices. "Hi, Detective Deeks, this is Willa in Wardrobe. I totally understand if you can't help but my son was pulled over for doing 45 in a 15 mph zone. He's willing to pay the ticket but can you call someone about the points? I'll owe you, especially if you don't mention this to Hetty." Voice change. "Hey, Deeks, this is Patty in Purchasing, I know we're not supposed to do this but I woke up this morning with a boot on my car, can you help out? I'll pay back the favor, I swear." Voice change. "Hey man, it's Aaron from accounting. My neighbor is having parties until 4AM every night. Can you talk to him? I'll do your taxes or something. I can make your expense reports sing, Hetty would love it." Voice change. "Detective, this is Eric's pal Ollie in Ops. I know there are a lot of ex-cops working Staples Center security, One Direction is playing there this week and my 12-year old would love to see them. If you can get us in, I'll owe you forever."

"You called in a favor."

"Didn't have to. Three different people reassured me Kensi was fine while dropping little pieces of information that I was able put together. And if you tell that to Hetty or Callen or Nell or anyone else, I'll deny that to the end. I'm a highly trained undercover operative. I could probably pull that off."

Nate smiled. "I believe you could. But I'm not talking to Hetty, Callen or Nell. I'm talking to you, Deeks. Just you"

"Then I should warn you about my new project."

"Uh oh."

"I told Nell I'm going to figure out how you two know each other."

"She still hasn't told you?" Nate smiled.

"No, and I expect you to be equally closed-mouthed. But I'm a detective, I detect." Deeks told him as the waiter returned with fish tacos, beer and near-beer. "Since you're both scary smart and you know scary smart people who do scary smart things, that's going to be my first avenue of investigation. Mensa meetings or something."

"You're a smart man. I didn't meet you until your NCIS psych eval in April 2010."

"That was a psych eval?" Deeks joked as he took a bite out of his taco. "And here I thought you were just really interested in me."

"I am. Actually, that's why I wanted to talk to you tonight."

Deeks put his taco down on his plate and took a sip of his near-beer. Only semi-awful, he thought. "I thought you promised no head shrinking tonight."

"Actually, if you remember the e-mail, counselor, I promised no head shrinking at the game," Nate put his hand up before Deeks could object. "But no head shrinking today."

"Hetty arrange this?" Now the great seats made sense to Deeks.

"No. No Hetty involvement at all. As I told you when we spoke on the beach a few months ago, I don't share Hetty's agenda when it comes to you. She has hers and that is to put in place the best team possible. My agenda is having the people on the team in the best place possible."

Deeks thought Hetty's agenda lately included taking away all the things that put him in the best place possible but he kept that belief to himself. "So if Hetty didn't arrange this..."

"I did. The tickets really were a gift from the new SecNav's Director of Mental Health Issues. And I was actually going to the game with Rose until her Mom tore up her knee. But this gave me a chance to talk to you in a more informal setting instead of meeting you at the boat shed after the first of the year," Nate explained before finishing his taco. Washing it down with his beer, he continued. "I'm a member of a joint military mental health task force about the use of coercive tactics against members of the military in the global war on terror."

"As it has been pointed out time and time again, I'm not military," Deeks said, working hard to keep his growing annoyance out of his voice.

"No, you're not. You're barely a civilian, though. You're a specialist."

"Okay." Deeks was regretting the near-beer. Some Grey Goose, maybe a lot of Grey Goose, and a cab home may have been a better plan, especially if he knew he was going under the microscope.

"You work with military personnel because you're a top flight operative, a stateside version of a military contractor in some ways. Your long undercover operations show a discipline and skill those pointing out you're not career military should envy."

"Most of them can't get past the hair."

"Sam didn't for a long time," Nate said before the server removed their appetizer plates. "His reaction to you after help arrived in the garage was just another example of that."

"He was worried about his wife," Deeks told him. "Wait, how do you know about that?"

"I read all the after-action reports. Interviewed some of the people present."

"Great," Deeks sighed. "Is this my interview? Do I need my union rep or a lawyer?"

"You are a lawyer."

"And I don't have a fool for a client."

"I'm not questioning you. I'm telling you about my work," Nate said. "I spoke to the EMTs and the members of the rescue team who didn't know Quinn was Sam's wife. They also didn't know the extent of Sam's injuries but they all saw yours and several were troubled by his reaction."

"As long as the EMTs got me out of there, Sam could have reacted anyway he wanted. I wanted to get out of that chair." And nobody seemed to understand that, he continued to himself.

"Kensi was there."

Speaking of someone who didn't seem to understand just how much he wanted out of that chair. "Yes, she was. Both times."

"So it didn't bother you Sam had a harsh reaction and had it in front of a group of other law enforcement and medical professionals? In front of Kensi?"

"I was finally being allowed out of that chair. They were getting me medical attention. I told Sam the truth and then I didn't give a damn what anyone thought. I did my part. I held up my end. And he was helpful in the E.R.," Deeks explained.

"Finally?"

"Not finally. I was in a bad place and Sam was good to me right off in the E.R."

Nate shook his head. "No, you said you were finally being allowed out of the chair. Finally and allowed are telling words in that statement."

"Kensi and Granger found us. They told us what we needed to do to get Michelle back in with Sidorov. We did what we were told to do and then they took Sam and me to the hospital."

"That's a rather dispassionate recounting of the situation."

"Kensi and Granger knew where we were which made a big difference. The plan was to have Michelle do her thing and to get us out of there. That's what happened."

"So you don't think Sam, and I going to use one of the words of a person there, humiliated you in front of the others."

"I was covered in my own blood, spit and if we're being honest here about body fluids, tears and a little bit of piss. I got the crap beat out of me back at Sidorov's house. I lost my gun and had my teeth drilled by a psycho. Add in the lovely chlorine smell in my clothes and the fact that I caused a scene in the E.R. - Sam freaking out over his wife was the least humiliating part of the day," Deeks answered him somewhat disgusted. "Aren't you glad we're going to eat soon?" This was not his idea of dinner talk.

"What about his comments in the park? About your character, your appearance."

"Nate, someone on the team needs to look like a civilian. Sam could hardly pass as homeless or a junkie. That's why I'm there. Besides, it wasn't anything they hadn't heard before from Sam."

"But you rarely defend yourself and certainly not like that."

"You heard?" Deeks was surprised.

"I got the recordings of everything that went into that day. Your time with Sam and Michelle in the park. What happened when you were found the first time, what happened when you were taken to the hospital after Michelle's cover was re-established, Ty showed up with your weapon and encouraged you to rejoin Sam and Kensi in the field – studied it all. The mental health task force asked me to write a chapter for a manual they're putting together. It has sort of grown."

"Two chapters? Am I footnote worthy?"

"The operation has turned into a full case study. You're the heart of a treatise."

"Oh, can I get an autographed copy?" Deeks teased, hoping it would mask how he felt about this bit of news. "To Marty, Without you, none of this would be possible. Your friend in Freud, Nate."

Nate pulled a silver thumb drive out of his pocket and handed it to Deeks. "You're not happy."

"Never been a lab rat before. Not sure I like it." Deeks looked at the thumb drive. "Do I get to comment on this?"

"That's why I gave it to you. I'm interested in any constructive comments you may have."

"Happy I'm allowed to have an opinion," he muttered as he tucked the drive in his back pocket.

"Again with allowed," Nate mused. "Hetty told me she's worried about you."

"Hetty needs a hobby. I'm a little tired of her circling like a traffic helicopter over a car wreck she thinks my life is. Last time I checked, I can make my own decisions. I have been for fifteen years, maybe twenty-five."

"The motorcycle?"

"Among other things."

"Kensi?"

"Among other things," he said more to himself as their food arrived.

"Hetty told me the motorcycle is actually making you some money," Nate said as the server left the table.

"Yes, she pimped it out to a movie Ron Howard is making. I'm getting forty grand when the production end is over. She also has something lined up for some two-day long modeling shoot for Vanity Fair for five large and possibly a movie with the guy who is Thor down the road. I could have some sweet bank by next summer. Hetty was good enough to make sure the checks for the Ron Howard movie and the magazine are sent next month so I can prepare for the tax implications. All tied up in a bow for helpless little me."

"And you're angry about that."

"I don't do angry, Nate. Angry got my old man six years as a guest of the state of California. Besides, I'm being paid to be screwed out of something that's mine so what's the difference? It's not like I have any say."

"So pimping..."

"...is an appropriate term," Deeks told Nate. "I'm just wondering when I get control of my life back."

"Excuse me," Nate seemed confused.

"Well, in some ways, since I was strapped to that chair in the garage, everyone's got plans for me. Some good, some really bad but I don't have a say in a single one of them."

"Hetty never liked motorcycles."

"Yet she has no issue with sending me out on one if it helps clear a case. If I want to have something for me, something fun, well, then that's dangerous since I can't be trusted not to kill myself doing something that isn't work. And of course Kensi has one because she's, well, Kensi and can be trusted to make adult decisions. I'm just some man-child who is told what to do and has to be protected from himself."

"I told her I thought taking the motorcycle away from you was a mistake."

"Hetty doesn't make mistakes," Deeks shoveled some of his fish into his mouth. "She makes decisions in the best interest of the team and the case."

"Not your best interests."

"Off the record and between you and me," Deeks said.

"Of course," Nate said sincerely.

"If anyone gave a damn about my best interests, maybe Kensi would have cut me loose and gotten me to the hospital when she first found me in Sidorov's garage."

"That was a mistake. Hetty should not have sent Kensi in to deal with you."

"You think?"

"Are you angry at her for doing that?"

"I'd ask which her you're talking about but I'm not angry with either of them. I'm not angry that Hetty wanted me to stay there. I'm not angry that Kensi was the messenger and did what she was told. I'm not angry that Kensi left me in the hospital to finish Hetty's assignment. I'm not angry that Kensi isn't here and that Hetty sent her away. It doesn't change what happened in the past and doesn't change where anyone is right now. So no, still not angry."

"The urgency of Sidorov having the nukes..."

"Bullshit. When Sam was locked up as Quinn's boyfriend a few months before my time with Isaak and his drill, someone had to tell Sam he was staying in jail while Michelle met with Sidorov. Hetty went herself because she didn't want Sam to be angry, unhappy or whatever with Callen. At the time, Sam was a little annoyed but perfectly healthy. Healthy enough to get himself out of jail and save Michelle."

"Sounds like something Hetty would do for their partnership."

"For their partnership, you bet. For me, however, well I was knocked around pretty good before I was brought to a garage. I was strapped to a chair and well, you know what happened happened. So unlike a healthy Sam Hanna back in March, I'm in that place when Hetty sends Kensi in to tell me I'm staying tied to that chair because..."

"If you read what I gave you, one of my conclusions was that sending Kensi in to deal with you was one of the biggest mistakes of the entire operation."

"Sidorov's dead. They got the nukes. Janvier is rotting in a cell in ADX Florence. I'm sure nobody is looking for what went wrong. Especially since I eventually returned to work and I have fabulous new teeth that I don't ever have to worry about getting cavities or needing root canals or being tortured by psychos with drills ever again."

"Every operation is reviewed for what could be improved. A positive outcome..."

"...is not the sign of a successful plan," Deeks finished Nate's thought. "My LAPD boss is former military intelligence. I've heard it before. And to tell you the truth, 'severe dental trauma' and weeks of insomnia aren't really positive outcomes."

Nate nodded his head, taking a bite of his meal. "So if you're not angry, what are you?"

Deeks was surprised by the question. "Working things through, I guess."

"What are you working through?"

"All still confidential?"

"I told you, Hetty's agenda isn't mine. You want to talk, you need to talk, I want to listen. It stays between you and me. And between you and me, you've needed someone to talk to for a long time. Talk."

Deeks put his fork down and sighed. "I'm thinking about my future. What I want. What I want to do," Who I want to do it with, he kept to himself.

"Are you not happy with your current assignment?"

"Outside of working part-time for a catering company from when I was sixteen until I passed the bar, this is the longest time I spent in one job, assignment, whatever."

"A case of wanderlust, perhaps?"

"Maybe it's a case of trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing," Deeks said as he picked up his fork and started picking at what was left of his dinner.

"How does Kensi not being around impact you?"

"Not helpful in some ways. Helpful in others. Not helpful in that when you work with someone for a long time, you fall into rhythms. Kensi was my first full-time partner, really, ever. I had what the department technically considered partners but they were always the handler and I was undercover boy." Deeks quickly added, "Nell isn't the problem. I like working with her, she's not the issue."

"What is?"

"Just thinking maybe it is time to move on. Maybe I'm with NCIS because I like working with Kensi and Callen and Sam. Maybe if they were all out of the picture, maybe if the team didn't gel like it did when I got there, I'd be back at LAPD now. There are three other liaison officers at LAPD. I'm the only one embedded with his agency. Everyone else works out of the Police Administration Building. Maybe I'm getting too comfortable and it's time to try other things."

"Do you want to try other things?"

"Not sure. Maybe I should finally learn how to master something before I try something new. I was a lawyer for a while, was an undercover cop for a while, now I'm this. Someone once said I was a jack of all trades, master of none."

"So you're torn."

Deeks leaned back in the booth. "I guess I'm trying to figure out why I'm still doing this. Is this the rest of my career? Do I want to go back to the LAPD? Do I take up Hetty's long ago offer to join NCIS"

"Do you?"

"Been thinking about it."

"And..."

"And I don't know. I wasn't crazy about the assignment I had before I got strapped to that chair."

"Granger was running that case, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I had to testify at Monica Davis's sentencing hearing week before last. She was my mark with Granger acting as my handler. I like undercover work. I like setting up someone like what Michelle was doing with Sidorov. Bad people doing bad things deserve whatever play we run. Monica was a hostess at a club. I got friendly with her so I could access her boss' computers and be there, hanging around, when the boss met with people."

"You didn't make her steal the diamonds. You didn't make her..."

"Max did. Max is a bad guy who does bad things and she was trying to keep up."

"I read the sentencing report. She's probably only doing the six months in Level I lock-up at CIW because of what you wrote in your pre-sentencing statement and what you told the judge."

"And if she never met Max, she's probably flirting with some rich guy and oh yeah, not going to jail and recovering from a gunshot wound. That's the part of the job I'm...I don't know." Deeks looked at his food and wondered where it all went. He cleaned his plate and didn't the taste of remember any of it.

"You also were lying to Kensi while working Monica Davis."

"Yeah, that wasn't great. The whole case stunk and for the record, Granger isn't a barrel of laughs to work for, either and he's with Kensi now on her super-secret assignment."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. That wasn't even a favor from someone. Got the heads up from someone outside of NCIS." Bates told him when he explained that Kensi was off on assignment. Seems Army Intelligence and the CIA work well together and gossip like teenagers. "I figure a few more weeks with Assistant Director Sunny Personality and she'll miss my jokes."

"She's going to miss you."

Deeks shook his head. "She's too busy saving the world," Deeks told him.

"Did you figure it out?" Nate asked, looking genuinely curious as he pushed his plate away.

"Figure what out?"

"What made your partnership different? What makes what you and Kensi have special, unique?"

"Sorta."

"Sorta?"

Deeks knew Nate knew the answer to his question. Nate knew on the beach. But Deeks also knew he was half insane at that point because he wasn't sleeping. Any conversation he'd have about Kensi that day would not be what Nate needed to hear. And now, well, Deeks listened to what he told Nate and was more sure than ever he was going back to LAPD. Not today, not next week but if he couldn't work with Kensi, if it was going to kill whatever they have or could have, whatever it was, if he wasn't going to be allowed to be himself and live his life, he was done with NCIS. He might be done anyway. Saying it out loud to Hetty earlier that month opened the door.

"Marty?"

"Marty," he laughed at the use of his first name. "What makes my relationship with Kensi unique, special, whatever," he mused. "Being strapped in that chair, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Shitty childhood, living in my car for half a semester in college, spending 83-days undercover as a child molester - all better. By a lot. I wanted to die. It had to be better than where I was. I gave Sam and Michelle everything I had to keep her safe so I had nothing left. I was done. And I was strapped to that goddamn chair, marinating in this mix of pain and blood and trying to forget what's left of the inside of my mouth when Kensi came to me. I thought I was safe. I thought I was getting out of there and it was over. But no. Kensi asked me to stay there. And I did. I wouldn't have done that for Callen or Hetty or Granger or you. Sorry. I wouldn't have done it for anyone but her. She asked and I did it for her. That's what makes our partnership unique. If she needs me, if she needs me to do something, I'll do it if she asks. Because if someone that amazing, that awesome has faith in me, trusts me, maybe I'm someone worthwhile."

Nate looked like he wanted to say something, even started once but changed course. Leaning in, he asked, "Are you worried that she may not see you that way?"

"I think she does. And if she doesn't, then I was wrong. Not the first time in my life, won't be the last."

"Then what?"

Deeks shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe work on becoming someone worthwhile."

The waiter stopped by to clear the table, asking if they wanted dessert. Deciding he deserved a treat, Deeks ordered the caramel bread pudding - it had a holiday sound to it - and a cup of decaf. Nate went with the key lime pie and a second beer.

"You just blew up a chapter of my monograph with what you said," Nate shook his head. "Sending Kensi in to talk to you..."

"No," Deeks shook his head. "It would be obscene to ask someone to do that to their partner. It was for us on some level. Kensi still has issues with it, with me. Wanting to protect me from what happened."

"I don't understand."

"Unique. It's what makes us special. How to deal with what happened can be your case study but honestly, how we deal with each other … do you want to do the shrink thing here?" Deeks saw Nate nod yes. "How many cop-lawyer-surfers with a talent for undercover work are teamed up with federal agents with a Type A to the extreme personality who have survived everything we have? There is nothing to learn about what happened between us in that garage. It's all part of the mix of what makes us work as partners."

"OK, but without reading what I wrote then, what would be your suggestion to the next agent or operative who found someone in your position that day?"

The waiter returned with their dessert and beverages. Once he was out of earshot, Deeks answered. "Unstrap the poor son of a bitch from the chair and get him medical attention. He's already done his fair share."

Dessert conversation turned to holiday plans including wondering what Kensi was doing. It was nice to talk to someone that didn't openly pity him every time he mentioned her name. Deeks invited Nate to work at the soup kitchen Tuesday night - an offer Nate was happy to accept. Nate wanted to pick up the check but Deeks considered it a payment for the tickets and the unplanned therapy session. Since Nate's Culver City condo was on his way home, Deeks dropped his fellow soup kitchen volunteer at his front door. Nate promised to return the favor Tuesday night.

Sitting at a red light, he saw the Office Depot a few miles from his place was still opened - "Opened Until Midnight For Your Holiday Needs!" Because who doesn't need an electric stapler at twenty to eleven on the Sunday before Christmas. Then he remembered he had about four sheets of blank paper in his apartment and was shaking his toner cartridge when he printed his "Hobbit" movie tickets last week. Since he planned on reading Nate's treatise Monday and having his notes ready on Tuesday night, a quick Office Depot visit was needed.

While the cashier feigned Christmas cheer with the best of them, 500 sheets of paper and a toner cartridge probably wasn't her idea of holiday needs. He threw in the snowman thumb drive to add to the festive feel to his otherwise sad purchases.

Once home, he loaded the toner, the paper and then Nate's masterwork. He took Monty for a quick walk to the corner while the printer did its thing. He returned with a relieved dog to over two hundred printed pages and a very cranky printer. Closing the file, he took Nate's thumb drive and locked it into his desk with his gun. Deeks took his just purchased holiday thumb drive and put it on the corner edge of his computer monitor. Finding a YouTube video of the old Yule Log from TV, he pulled out his phone and took a shot of the only Christmas decoration he had in his apartment.

He downloaded the snowman by the YouTube fire photo and another he had on the phone figuring he'd show them to Kensi when she got back. Maybe he'd take a picture of Nate at the soup kitchen too. He looked at the holiday thumb drive and smiled. Plugging it in, he copied the photos onto the little snowman drive and dated it. Closing the file program, he noticed his word processing program was still opened. What the hell, he thought as he started typing.

December 22, 2013

[img 02119]

[img 02130]

Hey Kens,

Merry Christmas three days early. I hope you liked the photos above. Monty and I decorated your place, as you can see. Unless you show up in the next thirty-six hours (and sorry, our luck just doesn't run that way so you'll be gone through Christmas), I'll keep the tree up until you come home. It is plastic, no fire worries. We can do Christmas when you get back. I'm not expecting much from Afghanistan. You coming back is my gift. I did get you something however. It's a surprise and under the tree. The other photo is the holidays here at Casa de Deeks. Well, I have some cards on top of the fireplace. Sam Hanna, you'll be happy to know, is anti-Christmas cards, especially ones with glitter. I feel a Martha Stewart glue gun and glitter project in my future for Sam's birthday.

You'll never guess what happened today. I became the star of one of Nate's psych term papers: "Marty Deeks as the Prisoner of Isaakaban". Nah, I can probably come up with a better title than that. Anyway, it seems Nate is turning "Deeks and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" (not much better) last May into some sort of case study about "coercive tactics" impact of torture. I got the title! "The Effect of Dental X-Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Martygolds"

I don't mean to sound so jaded. Nate's a really good man and he's doing important work. I am going to read his Deeksertation (ha ha) and give him serious feedback.

God, I miss you. Talking to you on the phone, it just reminded me how much not talking to you every day hurts.

OK, enough whining.

Nate and I caught a Clippers game - they lost, of course, because they stink (not really) and I can't have nice things. He told me about his case study after the game. We had a nice talk, actually. Nate thinks I need someone to talk to. He's right. I do. But that someone is you. Everyone's being great, they all want me to know I can talk to them, hang with them, forget you're on the other side of the world with them. It's been fine hanging with Callen, Sam, Eric and Nell, who by the way laughs at my jokes so you're going to have to work on that when you come back to work.

When you come back to me.

Anyway, I want to talk to you. Since I can't, I think when I have something to say, I'll say it here. I got this great little thumb drive and really, in L.A. in December, who isn't thinking of snowmen?

I hope you're warm wherever you are. I hope they're treating you right. I know you're dazzling them with your all around awesomeness. You've dazzled me every day since we met.

This is getting depressing and morose with a glitter-like dusting of self-pity. If you were here you'd kick my ass for this. And I'd deserve it. Instead, I will sign off the first chapter of the Book of Marty this way - I miss talking to you. It's been one of my favorite things to do since we met.

Be safe, come home,
Deeks, Test Subject

Postscript:

Sent July 6, 2014 at 10:43PM PDT
TO: henrietta . lange at ncis . navy . mil
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org
Subject: How I'm Spending My Summer Vacation 1.0

Hey Hetty,

Hope you're enjoying your summer break. This is just a quick note to say thanks for so much for arranging the leasing of my motorcycle to all those photos shoots, film and television productions since last fall. After figuring out what the IRS needed and putting money aside so Monty and I can live a little more comfortably on a cop's pension, I decided to have some fun with a bit of the rest:

Deekscursion dot tumblr dot com

See you August 15th. I'll have photos, too.

Marty Deeks

Hetty stared at the e-mail. Deeks was evasive about his summer plans, "just hanging around" was his constant answer. She had Eric do a quick search of Deeks's credit card expenditures and the airlines before she shut the office down for six weeks - no plane tickets, no hotel reservations, nothing out of the ordinary for the Detective.

The web addressed worried her. Clicking on the address, a bare bones website opened. There was a locked video and a pop-up box that said "Password paid for this - two words, no spaces, no caps."

Hetty typed in "triumphbonneville" and the video started. "I Believe I Can Fly" graphic showed up over a helicopter taking off at the base of a mountain. There was a fade to a small group of adults standing at the top of a mountain in wingsuits. A quick cut changed it to a split screen with video from what looked to be a pair of helmet cams. Hetty only recognized one profile - Marty Deeks.

"Oh, Mr. Deeks," she said from her rented villa in Monaco.

Soon enough, the group jumped. The split screen provided a look of what Deeks saw as he glided through the air and what he looked like as he sailed through the clouds. It was beautiful, exhilarating and absolutely insane. A few minutes into the flight, Deeks and his fellow wingsuit jumpers opened their parachutes. The video switched to Deeks's point of view as he slowly made his way back to terra firma. There was a triumphant scream as he landed followed by some heartfelt laughter. Another cut in the video was from a professional camera on the ground, following Deeks's descent for the last fifty feet, the joy on his face as he landed and the celebratory scream when he landed as well as a website address for Oregon Wingsuit Leaps.

Before fading to black, a final graphic appeared:

Cost of Wingsuit/Parachute - $1,972.28
Cost of Instruction and Practice Jumps - $6,200.00
Cost of Mountain Jump - $1,000,00 (and cheap at twice the price)
Having $15,827.72 in cash left over and five more weeks of adventures - Priceless.

To be continued...

"You cheeky bastard," Hetty chuckled without an ounce of malice.

-30-

Oh, the odious author's notes.

1. This is likely a three-parter. There will not be weekly updates as is my wont. More monthly but finished before Kensi returns to Los Angeles. Probably part two sometime in mid-January and mid-February for part three.

2. Type "Every Day I Write the Book - Ron Sexsmith & Elvis Costello" into youtube. Click on the video from "deerfried" - 5:30 in length. It is how this all started.

3. Happy holidays. Thanks for reading. Thanks for all the fun I've had for the last year. I am so grateful for all the kind words, the feedback, the follows and favorites. Just amazed and overwhelmed by everyone's kindness.