It All Adds Up: An NCISLA FanFic

by Sweet Lu

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He was used to doing his taxes early. In fact he prided himself on having them done in early January. But, since he’d been undercover for the entire month and half of February, that wasn’t going to happen this year. He wondered if it was going to happen at all, considering the circus he was in the middle of. Nothing had panned out the way he thought it would. This assignment hadn’t gone anywhere close to plan, which is why he was tied up in a claustrophobic shed full of scary looking farm implements in a godforsaken place that smelled like horseshit. If they killed him, would it be tax deductible?

“Seriously, buddy… you are definitely concussed.”

But it was crazy thoughts like that one keeping him sane. At least he hoped it would until the team found him. If the team found him… which was a long shot. The crazy thoughts didn’t keep him from dealing with his real worries. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t faced death multiple times, but he hadn’t been this close for some time or had a child to worry about before.

They’d had to sit Rosa down before he left and explain why he would be gone for a while. She’d asked tough questions neither one could answer, the assignment being open ended until he could get the intel they needed to shut down the bad guys. Rosa had wanted specifics about the bad guys, unwilling to settle for his generic terminology. She wasn’t happy when they told her the information was classified. He wouldn’t answer her hardest question. Could he die?

“Yeah, Rosalita. Right now it’s a distinct possibility.”

He and Kensi both tried their best to minimize the danger they faced every day. But this time Rosa demanded to know, even though it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss or even admit. Kensi had tried to smooth it over, and assure her, but he could see the doubt in her eyes. They were the same doubts he was dealing with now. It was an old conversation, one he and Kensi had hashed over many times. Should one of them get out of the game before the game became lethal? And if it did, where would that leave Rosa? Where would it leave Kensi if this was the end for him? Had he left them financially secure if he didn’t make it? The bar still hadn’t sold, and was a constant drain on their expenses, not to mention the property tax burden. If he died today, it would be an albatross around her neck, one more hardship she’d have to deal with. And he blamed himself for that. Feelings of failure combined with the imminent danger he was in left him angry with himself.

“Sonofabitch!”

Death and taxes. A phrase now with a personal meaning. He should have put more effort into selling the bar. He should have saved more. He should have realized the bad guys were on to him. If he was losing his edge, he needed to consider the possibility that it might be time for him to hang up his badge and gun. If he survived.

The sound of a truck outside sent a shot of adrenaline through him and he struggled to free himself one more time, even though he knew it would be as futile as the last bazillion times he’d tried.

“Party’s over, shithead.”

A brilliant slice of sunlight blinded him as the shed door screeched open. The hulking silhouette of one of the members of the anti-government militia he’d infiltrated stood arrogantly in the doorway. He was as ugly as ever. His name was Bull, and he was full of shit.

“Ready to meet your maker, G-man?”

“Still lovin’ those clichés, yeah?”

“What the fuck’s a cliché?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. Foreign languages aren’t your forte.”

“They ain’t American,” Bull grunted as he dragged him to his feet and shoved him toward the door. “You got a date with the Devil.”

“And there’s another one,” Deeks said softly. “The Devil? Seriously? Would that be your leader?”

“Could be,” the man said. “He’s mean enough. Wants to meet you. He’s got questions.”

Deeks had never even seen the top guy. Maybe he had pushed too hard for an introduction, making them suspicious. But, now that he was about to die, he’d at least get a look at the guy. Not that it would do him or the assignment any good now.

He took in his surroundings as he was pushed toward a group of grumpy looking militiamen. He’d been unconscious when they’d brought him here. Plus it was dark. Now he was able to see the layout of a marginally maintained ranch. It was isolated. Possibly the headquarters of the militia. Home of the Devil himself, and probably the end of the line for him. He smiled at his own use of a cliché. Not that Bull or the others would have noticed.

The group of hardass men glared at him as they parted, allowing him to see their leader. He was finally going to meet the man who had ordered his men to blow up a border patrol station just to make a statement, killing seven agents and fourteen people seeking asylum. He was dressed all in black and had a smile on his face and a gun in his hand. The startling thing was, he knew the bastard.

…

The trio of helicopters flew low over the pale hills, the occupants armed and anxious. Kensi constantly urged the pilots to go faster. Callen and Sam remained stoic, their anger expressed by the intensity in their eyes. Hunched at the far edge of the back seat, Eric Beale hugged himself as he looked forlornly out the window as the helo skimmed over the low, grass covered hills. He’d insisted on coming, distraught and blaming himself for taking so long to find Deeks. When Deeks had missed his last check-in, they had pinged his phone, but got no response. They had raided his last known location in San Bernardino, but the warehouse was empty except for Deeks’ smashed phone. If they were going to find him they would need the best. Luckily Eric Beale was giving a talk in Los Angeles and when contacted, he immediately offered to help track him. That had been three days ago.

He had started out cocky, his confidence fading as time dragged on. He was constantly on the phone with Nell, who remained in Washington D.C., working her contacts there. The strain began to show when Eric began snapping at anyone asking if he had any updates. It was Sam who walked him outside and talked him down. Whatever he’d said seemed to work, and the tech genius began writing an algorithm in a last-ditch effort to force his new program to find a link to the militia they hadn’t tried before. When he showed them his breakthrough he met skepticism, but the team was out of options. Now they were essentially blindly following a link Beale had discovered, hoping his intel proved correct and that they wouldn’t be too late.

“Eric? Get on the floor,” Callen shouted into his headset. “We’re going in hot.”

The helos swept in low over a rocky ridge line. Deeks stood in the middle of a group of men who immediately began shooting at them as they scrambled for cover. Sam and Kensi were firing before they even set down. Once on the ground, Callen charged toward Deeks just as he body slammed a familiar looking man attempting to shoot him. They both went down in a heap, and Kensi screamed his name. Callen covered her as she ran for him. Deeks wasn’t moving. She pulled him off the man and into her arms, whispering his name.

“Talk to me, baby…please, Deeks. Tell me you’re okay.”

“He’s not hit, Kens,” Callen said.

“I’m good…I think…alive…mostly,” Deeks whispered.

“The guy on the ground wasn’t so lucky,” Callen said.

“How’d you find me?”

“Beale,” Sam said as he knelt beside them. “Just don’t ask us how he did it.”

“Don’t care,” he said as Sam cut his hands free. “Can we go home now?”

When they helped him to his feet, Callen was kneeling by the leader of the militia group, who was bleeding badly from a self-inflicted wound in his abdomen.

“Why does this guy look so familiar?” Callen asked.

“His name’s Hawley,” Deeks said. “He was the Assistant Agent in Charge of the Border Patrol sector out of San Diego. I worked with him briefly at the beginning of this operation.”

“The guy who quit?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Now we know why,” Deeks replied.

“Better get one of the medics over here before he punches out permanently,” Callen said.

“Come on, Deeks. Let’s get you looked at,” Sam said as he and Kensi guided him over to one of the helos and left him with an EMT.

Deeks was being treated when Eric approached him. He was hesitant, nothing like the goofy guy he remembered. He seemed sad.

“Hey, buddy. Shouldn’t you be in a boardroom somewhere instead of out here on the frontlines?”

“Deeks… I’m so sorry.”

“For what? Heard you’re the reason I’m not dead right now,” Deeks said. “Now I can file my taxes on time and put some real effort into selling the bar.”

“Wait… you were tied up with these guys for three days and you were thinking about your taxes?”

“Crazy, yeah? And Kensi and Rosa, of course, but the bar thing, too. If I can sell it, I might be able to afford to get out of this game before…”

“It’s too late.”

“Yeah… that,” Deeks said softly. “Thanks, Beale… not that saying thanks is even close to being enough for what you did for me today.”

“Deeks… I wouldn’t have my business if it wasn’t for you,” Eric said.

“What? Just to clarify, buddy… it’s the one project of yours I didn’t invest in,” Deeks laughed. “You didn’t need my help on the big, successful one. You did it all on your own. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“You believed in me, Deeks… when no one else did, except Nell,” Eric said. “Do you know how many people I asked to invest in my ideas over the years?”

“Ten? Twenty? A gazillion? No? Okay… I give up.”

“Too many. And most of them laughed. They thought my ideas were crazy… and some of them were,” Eric replied softly. “But, you never did…”

“I may have laughed at a few just a little bit,” Deeks said with a soft smile.

“But whenever I asked for financial help, you said yes. And I’ve never paid you back for any of it.”

“You did today, brother,” Deeks said and pulled him into a hug.

“I wasn’t sure it would work,” Eric said as he stepped away.

“Your billion-dollar business? Really?”

“No… the algorithm I wrote to find you. I wasn’t sure it would work. I was really scared it wouldn’t. And if it hadn’t… Deeks… if it hadn’t… I knew I would feel guilty for the rest of my life.”

“Come on, Beale…”

“No. I realized how much your encouragement meant to me, and how much I owe you,” he replied. “So… I am gifting you multiple shares in my company… enough to repay you for all of your loans and more… with interest. You’ll receive quarterly dividends, and I’ve already had my accountant deposit the current dividend into your account.”

“Seriously? How… how did you do that?” Deeks said, stunned by what was happening. “Did you hack my bank?”

“Yes. I hacked your bank… sorry… sort of,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why am I not surprised? You are a sneaky little bastard, Beale. But… listen, brother… you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do, Deeks. I need to do this. You’re like part of my family… and if you hadn’t…”

“Survived?”

“Yeah,” Eric replied in a whisper. “I felt an obligation to Kensi and Rosa. I didn’t want them to worry about money.”

“I don’t know what to say, Eric… except thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me… not for this,” Eric said. “And there’s one other thing I did.”

“You got me a shiny new truck?” The laughter they shared came with tears.

“I bought your bar.”

“My bar? Really? You bought my bar?”

“And I’m not changing a thing,” Eric said. “I’ll hire a manager to run it. You and Kensi, Callen and Sam, and Hetty if she ever comes home… can go there whenever you want. Drinks on the house… for life.”

“Awesome, brother. Truly awesome.”

“What’s going on, Deeks?” Kensi asked as she joined them.

“Our taxes are going up, baby…thanks to our knight in shining armor, Mr. Eric Beale.”