Author's note-

Well, I promised everyone a new story, and here it is. :) It should have been up last week, but work and a stinking cold have kept me from working on it.

Hope you enjoy this. :)

Lou

The Darkness Did Not Prevail

Chapter One

Smog coated the city in a thin, gauzy layer. Deeks barely noticed it as he drove, slowing for a red light. His eyes dropped to the thin, white scar on his wrist. It had almost become familiar after two long months. The skin paled even more as he flexed his wrist, thankful that the long scar was the only permanent damage from the attack that had almost cost him his life.

The car behind him honked its horn. Startled, he looked up, hitting the gas as he realised that the light was on green. He made it through the intersection and reached over, thumbing the radio on. A perky female voice read out the news headlines. He listened with half an ear as he made another turn, pulling neatly to a halt in front of a white painted coffee shop.

She's going to kill me for being late, he thought as he picked up the duffle bag laying on the passenger seat and slid out of the pick up truck, scanning the faces around him from long habit. He hummed a wordless tune as he walked towards the entrance, eyebrows lifting as he spotted the person he was looking for.

Kensi smiled at him as she stood up, reaching over to pick up the paper cups of coffee from the table. She wore dark blue jeans and a plain white shirt that showed off her light tan. Her hair was pulled up into a simple braid that hung thickly down her back.

"You're late," she said and pressed a cup into his hand, dropping a wrapped pecan brownie on top of it.

"I know, sorry." His lips twitched as he closed his hand over the chocolate brownie, tucking it into his pocket. He swallowed a mouthful of the rich coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue. "Had some things that I needed to take care of," he said simply, eyes dropping to his wrist again. "The doc gave me the all clear to come back to work full time."

"That's great news," she said, and smiled widely, a teasing sparkle coming into her eyes. "We all thought that you were going to stay off for as long as you could."

He lifted his eyebrow as he settled into a booth with her, fishing the brownie out of his pocket to unwrap it. "And miss your wonderful company?" He huffed a breath. "Not likely, princess."

She just shook her head, fiddling with the sugar packets. "My last day of freedom for God knows how long, and I have to put up you."

A waitress bustled past, coffee cups clanking in her hands. Her short skirt showed off long, lean legs that would have normally drawn Deeks' attention like a bee to a honey pot.

He barely even noticed her. All of his attention was fixed on the woman sitting across from him. "Nervous?" he asked, and sipped his coffee, giving her time to answer.

Hands stilling, she looked up, meeting his eyes for a split second before looking away. "Were you nervous before your first deep cover?" she asked slowly.

A flush covered her cheeks. Deeks couldn't decide if it was from the intimacy of the question or if she was ashamed for being nervous. A little of both, he decided, studying her covertly.

"You bet I was." He laughed, nodding. "Spent the night before chucking my guts up in a seedy hotel. I looked like death the next day, but the cover worked out fine."

She shifted and twirled her coffee in her hands, sloshing the drink around the cup. "Callen and Sam go under with no problems…" she shrugged. "I just hate…"

"Lying to people," he finished gently, and pushed a sugar packet back across the plastic table towards her. "Then why did you chose this job?"

"Because I'm damn good at it," she said, chin lifting with unconscious pride.

"Then you'll be fine." He smiled, then turned serious. "Shall we get this show on the road?"

She stood and drained the last of her coffee. "Let's do it, partner."

He held the door open for her as they left the coffee shop, watching her face change with quiet amusement as she spotted the car they were going to be driving. The old truck had once been blue, but time and sad neglect had faded the paint to dull grey. Large rust spots marked the wheel arches, creeping up the body in a slow war. Dents littered the bodywork.

She let her eyes run along the truck's battered sides, then shook her head and met Deeks' eyes. "What the hell is this?"

He threw her the keys and smiled. "Hetty asked me to pick it up. The engine's sound, even if the body looks like someone drove over it in tank."

She shook the keys out, finding the truck key easily, and opened the door. The smell of damp fabric, spoiled food and dirt wafted out. "Did something die in here?" she asked as she slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat.

"Not the last owner," Deeks said and slammed the door, wincing when the truck rattled ominously. "He's in County jail for the next five years. LAPD caught him with his pockets full of drugs."

"Are you sure?" Kensi asked as she started the engine and merged into the light traffic, letting the familiar act of driving calm her nerves.

Just like he expected, I bet, she thought wryly. Damn man can read me like a book. The thought should have annoyed it, but for some reason, she found it perversely comforting.

"Pretty sure," Deeks murmured, the banter calming the butterflies churning in his stomach. "We can check under the seats later though." He reached forward and opened the glove box, closing it quickly as assorted food wrappers threatened to spill out. "On second thought, maybe not."

She shot him a glance as she turned left, making a loop to check for tails. Five minutes later, she rejoined the main road, satisfied that no-one was following them.

"Nervous?" she asked.

Deeks blinked, caught staring out of the window at the passing city, and nodded. "Little bit." A sad, wry smile touched his lips for a second before fading away. "My last deep cover didn't really work out so well," he added softly.

The image of a car exploding into a deadly fireball filled her mind, replaced by one of her partner, hurt and furious, grinding a gun into the chest of someone he had trusted with his life. Someone who had betrayed him in the most awful way. Someone who had killed a person he had cared deeply about.

"I guess not," she murmured, lost for words, and shivered, despite the heat.

He tapped his fingers on the dashboard. "Don't worry, Fern. I trust Hetty a hell of a lot more than I trusted that bastard."

She pulled into the Mission's car park and parked the truck. "It wasn't your fault," she said.

"I know." He flashed a pained smile. "I keep telling myself that," he said and shrugged. "Maybe one day I'll actually believe it."

Unhappily, she followed him into the building, hoping that this operation would give them something to be proud of doing. By the time she reached the door, he had his trademark smile fixed on his face, hiding the hurt lurking just beneath it. She copied him, wrestling her own smile into place as she followed him to their desks.

Sam and Callen were already there. Sam had a pile of paperwork spread in front of him and was quietly filling it in. Callen's was stacked in the out tray, brightly coloured sticky notes adorning the pile.

Deeks tapped it with his fingers as he walked past. "Who'd you pay and how much?" he asked, dropping his bag onto his own desk.

Callen looked up from his newspaper lazily and lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe I did it myself."

They all stared at him. "G, you hate paperwork," Sam said after a long second. "Hetty practically has to tie you to your desk to make you do it."

Deeks eyed his own paperwork with similar dislike, then sighed and reached for the first folder. "Just be glad that you don't work for LAPD." He signed his name on a sheet and flipped to the next page. "They go through a minor forest of paper every day. We have to fill everything out in triplicate."

He looked up, amusement quirking his lips at the look of horror on Callen and Kensi's faces.

"Is Hetty in yet?" Kensi asked and dumped a folder into the out tray.

"I don't think she leaves," Callen muttered and picked up his newspaper again, shaking it out to read the sports section.

"I heard that, Mr Callen," Hetty said.

He looked up quickly, a guilty expression flashing across his face. "Hetty, you know…" he started.

She shook her head and walked into the space between their desks. "Now is not the time, Mr. Callen," she said simply. "Our contact from Interpol just arrived. I want you all to join us in the ops room immediately."

She walked away without waiting for an answer, clearly expecting them to all follow her.

Callen stood first, escaping from behind the desk with a sense of relief. Sam tided his paperwork and followed him, leaving Kensi and Deeks alone for a moment. He met her eyes, relieved to see nothing but steady, calm interest in them, almost hiding a tiny sparkle of excitement.

Deeks dropped his last folder into his out tray and stood. "Showtime, boys and girls," he said to himself, and shook his head, following the rest of his team up the stairs.