The Flower Child and The Fuzz

Chapter 1

...

Roberta slid a second serving of blueberry pancakes onto Callen's plate. He flashed a smile at her before drowning them in maple syrup. Deeks noticed that she didn't return the smile as he sat back down at the table with two cups of coffee, passing one to Callen. He waved off a second stack of pancakes she offered him, watching her closely as she looked away to stare at the far wall, seemingly deep in thought. She'd been conspicuously quiet for the past two days, and constantly on her phone with someone she wouldn't identify. It worried him.

"You're not eating with us, Roberta?" Callen asked, watching her with a critical eye as well.

"I had something in the kitchen," she replied absently as she turned to go.

"What's up, mama?" Deeks breathed out, lowering his coffee cup to the table. "I know something's bugging you. Wanna talk about it?"

"It's none of your business," she replied sharply, but then turned and quickly smiled. "Sorry. Guess I'm just not in the mood to be interrogated."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Deeks asked, confused by her response.

"Obviously, you've never been interrogated," Callen said. "Either that or Deeks has lost his touch."

"Come on, Mama. You're freaking me out here. I just want to know what's bothering you."

"Don't start with me, Martin," she warned. "You either, Mr. G. Callen."

"Hey. I'm just here for the pancakes," Callen said, smirking as he held up his hands in peace.

"You know what we used to call you cops?" She asked, sounding defiant and a little defensive. "The Fuzz."

"Really? I could have sworn it was 'pigs'," Deeks said with a lighthearted laugh.

"That too, but I liked 'fuzz' better," she shot back.

"When was that? Cause it's a helluva lot nicer than some of the names I've been called over the course of my career," Callen said, wading in again, his smirk widening into a smile.

"Don't you laugh at me. Either of you," she demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at them.

Deeks stood and took her hands in his. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Come on, Mama. You know I love you, but you're acting really weird, even for you. Now tell me what's pissed you off, other than serving breakfast to a couple of pigs or should I say, "the fuzz", as you used to call us."

"You wouldn't understand."

"According to Sam, pigs are quite intelligent," Callen said. "But I am curious as to why cops were called "the fuzz"?"

"It was the sixties. Who knows? We were stoned, what can I say," she said.

"What? TMI, Mama. TMI," Deeks groaned.

"So...you were so stoned the cops looked fuzzy when they were arresting you?" Callen asked, giggling lightly.

"It was all about the hair. Cops had crew cuts back then. You were all fuzzy headed, at least that's what I always thought it meant," she said. "And I was never arrested, Martin. Probably should have been, but the cop thought I was cute and let me go."

She smiled then, and it eased the tension between them. "I was a flower child. A very attractive one for your information."

"I can picture that," Deeks said softly. "My mama, the cute little hippy with flowers in her hair."

"You would have fit right into that scene, Deeks," Callen said. "No question you've got the hair for it."

Deeks raised an eyebrow at his remark, but noticed that his mom seemed to fold in on herself, looking longingly into the past.

"I used to have this great pair of bell bottoms. Man, I loved those pants. They had a huge brown and yellow flower pattern," she said wistfully. "And I had a suede jacket with fringe on the sleeves and all along the hem that I wore over a tie-dyed tee shirt I made myself. I lived in that outfit."

"When was that, Mama?" Deeks asked as he pulled her down into a chair beside him.

"Nineteen sixty seven. In San Francisco. It's where I met Wanda. Wanda Kowalski from Cleveland," she replied. "By the end of the year she was calling herself Summer...after the Summer of Love. The next year it all went to hell...what with the anti-war protests, all the heavy drugs, and people getting arresting right and left. No more innocent flowers in our hair after that."

"Not sure I want to hear this, but what happened with you?" Deeks asked. "You never talked about it when I was a kid."

"I met your father," she replied without looking at him. "I was seventeen and he was just back from Vietnam. My friend, Summer, spit on him, and he slapped her. That should have been a clue, but I was young and stupid, and he was big and handsome. What can I say? I fell for him and he brought me down here with him to LA."

"You never told me that before," Deeks said softly.

Callen looked embarrassed and quickly stood up, finishing his coffee in one swallow. "I should go."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Roberta said, pulling away and picking up their plates. "No one wants to hear about an old lady's mistakes."

"Come on, Mama. You're not that old," Deeks said, desperately wanting to pull her out of a familiar funk. "And I thought you liked being a hippy."

"Oh, honey...it was fun for a while, but...never mind," she said, her eyes suddenly full of sadness. "The past is the past, and it's best to leave it there."

Callen was watching her closely and hesitated before asking a question. "You never said what happened to Wanda...or Summer, as she called herself."

"Don't you have a job to go to?" She snapped and walked away, leaving them both surprised and curious.

"Guess I deserved that," Callen said. "She's right. It is none of my business."

"Something's up with her," Deeks replied, feeling unsettled.

"The past isn't easy to talk about, is it?" Callen said. "I know I'm not interested in revisiting mine."

"I've never heard her talk about anybody named Wanda or Summer," Deeks said softly. "Whenever my dad was gone, she'd tell a few stories about her past. Usually it was when the power went off, and the house was dark. She'd light a few candles and we'd bundle up on either end of the couch with a bag of cookies and she'd tell me stories. Some were pretty strange, so I was never sure if they were true or not."

"Ever check them out with relatives?" Callen asked.

"You mean investigate my own mother?"

"That's not what I meant," he replied, looking slightly miffed.

"Yeah I know," Deeks dropped his head and groaned softly before looking off toward the kitchen. "Something's going on, but to be honest, I'm afraid to find out what it is."

"Why's that?"

"Remember Guy?"

"That personal trainer she dated?" Callen smirked. "I never could figure out why you never warmed up to him."

"Seriously?"

"He spoke fairly good French."

"So?"

"You're a little overprotective don't you think?"

Deeks stared at him hard for a couple of seconds, his mind flashing back to the night he shot his father. "No. I don't."

Callen read him instantly, regret in his eyes. "Sorry. Shouldn't have said that, especially considering my own history. Listen...I'll see you at work. And thank your mom for the pancakes."

Callen made a quick exit, and Deeks sat wondering if he should follow him or resume the conversation with his mother. When she came back out of the kitchen she ignored him.

"Mama. You're pouting."

"And you're nosy," she replied, refusing to look at him. "I deserve a little privacy without my son, the cop, poking around in my past."

"Come on, Mama..."

"Butt out, Marty," she snapped. "For once in your life, stop asking questions."

"Okay. Okay," he replied reluctantly. "But you know you can talk to me about anything. Right? It doesn't matter what it is. I'm on your side, remember?"

"I know."

She patted his cheek and smiled, but he knew she was keeping secrets. He just had to figure out how to get her to share the one bothering her at the moment.

"I'll see you tonight," he said softly.

"Playing the waiting game, huh?" She said with a smile. "Hoping I'll change my mind and share my sordid past?"

"Now you're just trying to scare me," he replied.

"Oh, honey...I could if I wanted to, but not today," she said, looking sadly at him. "Go shoot some bad guys, Marty. I'm fine."

"That's not all I do, you know," he replied.

"Then go save the world, or whatever it is you do. I'm the least of your worries."

She walked back into the kitchen leaving him confused and a little concerned. It was usually pretty easy to read his mom. She had always been mercurial, and today was a downswing in mood, one he hadn't seen in a while. She'd always known how to lift his spirits, even when she was embarrassing him, and he'd always tried to do the same for her. When he was little she would seek him out to brighten her day when things got dark with his father. She called him her "sunshine boy". He had learned early on the effect his smile could have on her, his jokes too. Even though they irritated his father, she would laugh with him whenever he said something clever. But there had been those days when no matter what he tried, she'd remain in a funk, unable or unwilling to break free of the sadness that had settled over her. Like today, she would never tell him what had sent her into a downward spiral, and he usually placed the blame on his father. Today he couldn't.

"See you tonight, Mama," he yelled out before heading out the door, but heard nothing in reply.

The workday began with a change in partners. Kensi was down in Oceanside at Camp Pendleton leading a sniper training exercise with new recruits. She had teased him early that morning about being around all those buff looking Marines, and her attempt to get a rise out of him made him smile as he stood beside Callen in Ops. But his mind drifted as Nell briefed them, his thoughts returning to his mother's behavior at breakfast. She usually told him too much about her social life, so her reticence this morning was worrying. It wasn't like her, and he replayed their conversation in his mind.

"Mr. Deeks?"

"Huh? Yeah?"

"Are you with us this morning?" Hetty asked. "Miss Jones asked you a question."

"Oh...Sorry," he said, grinning sheepishly to cover the awkward moment. "Ask again, Nellasaurus."

"Did you hear anything Miss Jones said about this case, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked sharply. "If so, please summarize for us."

"Bad guys. Classified documents. World peace?" His attempt to be funny not putting even a small crack in her stony facade.

"One out of three, Mr. Deeks," she replied. "Want to explain what you were thinking about while the rest of the team was paying attention?"

"A flower child and the fuzz," he replied quietly, looking down at his shoes like a little kid in trouble with his teacher.

A slow smile spread across her face. "I can honestly say I was not expecting that particular answer, Mr. Deeks."

"Still trying to figure out what was going on with your mother this morning?" Callen asked.

"Sorry. I know. Not the time or place," Deeks said quickly.

"I hope all is well with Roberta," Hetty said. "But we have a case, Mr. Deeks, an important one, and it needs your full attention."

"Of course, Hetty. It won't happen again. I'm all ears, Nell."

The question was about a section of Los Angeles that he was quite familiar with, and he quickly provided intel on a few of the local drug dealers that operated there. One man in particular fit the profile of a man involved in their current case. He was a key figure in the trade and known to swap drugs for weapons, and vice versa. He and Callen were being sent to stake out his location in an attempt to corral a foreign operative thought to be using the man's services. Hetty eyed him critically all the way out the door.

"If looks could kill, I'd have a bullet in my cerebellum right now," Deeks whispered as he rushed out behind Callen.

"Then get your head in the game, Deeks," Callen said as they headed down the stairs. "You know Sam will kill you if you let anything happen to me."

"Then Kensi would have to shoot him to avenge my death," Deeks replied with a crooked smile.

"Then she would end up in prison," Callen replied. "Leading to the probable demise of the Office of Special Projects."

"For which I will haunt you all. And you in particular, Mr. Deeks," Hetty called out from the balcony.

"Copy that, Hetty," he yelled back as he hurried out of the building.

Once they were on I-10 headed toward Boyle Heights, Callen looked over at him with a questioning look.

"You're really worried aren't you?" he said. "Roberta seems pretty tough to me, but she was deflecting a lot."

"My mom usually talks more than I do," Deeks replied. "She has no filter on what she says at all."

"So this morning was unusual."

"Yeah. It was."

"You think it has something to do with this woman she mentioned? Wanda Kowalski?"

"Maybe. But why? I've never even heard that name before today," Deeks said.

"Maybe they kept in touch," Callen replied.

"It feels weird when your own mother keeps secrets from you," Deeks said.

"You're preaching to the choir here, Deeks. My dad was a spy who stayed out in the cold. Remember?"

"Okay. You win. But my mom isn't like that. She's a crazy woman, for sure, but what could she possibly be involved with that she couldn't tell me about?"

"Why don't you ask Eric to run a search on Wanda Kowalski?"

"Seriously?

"The tools are available to you, if you want to use them," Callen reasoned.

"She'll be pissed if she finds out."

"I'm just saying...if you really want to know, you can find out," Callen said. "It's what we do."

"You're kinda sneaky that way, aren't you?"

"I've been known to occasionally use Eric's services on the sly," Callen said with a smirk. "Sam too...and your wife, of course. She used every tool available to find her dad's killer whether she was authorized to or not."

"Yeah she did...and she kept it from everyone, including me, for a helluva long time," Deeks sighed and pulled his phone. "Hey Beale. I need a favor. A personal one. Are you alone?"

"At the moment," Eric replied. "What can I do for you that won't get me in trouble?"

"Trouble is in our DNA, Beale," Deeks said. "Pretend you're a secret agent flying by the seat of your pants."

"You mean like I did in San Francisco?"

"Not that scary, buddy," Deeks said. "I need you to track down a woman named Wanda Kowalski."

"Does Kensi know?" He whispered back.

"What? No. It's not like that," Deeks frowned. "Wait. You think I'd cheat on my wife?"

"Me? No. Glad you're not though, cause Kensi would get it out of me if she even suspected you were using me to find women," Eric said, sounding relieved.

"Seriously, Beale? You actually think she'd believe you were running a house of ill repute?"

"No, but maybe an online dating service," Eric replied, sounding excited.

"Beale's Babes?" Deeks laughed. "I could see that. Not that I would need that kind of a service."

"Okay. No. Is Callen laughing? You're going to use that name to torture me aren't you?" Eric whined. "It's just that Kensi can be very intimidating when she wants to be."

"Are you scared of my wife, Beale?"

"Maybe just a little," he said softly.

"You should be. I know I am at times," Deeks said, grinning widely.

"Is this our secret? Or can I tell Nell?"

"Just don't spread it all over the internet," Deeks said. "And make sure Hetty doesn't find out."

"So I will be in trouble," Eric said quietly.

"Not if she doesn't find out."

"We are talking about Hetty, Deeks. She knows everything."

"You're right. Never mind."

Callen yanked the phone out of his hand and spoke sharply. "Just find Wanda Kowalski, Eric."

"That might have been a little excessive, don't you think?" Deeks said with a grin. "You probably made him pee his pants."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Callen said, tossing the phone back to Deeks.

Cutting across traffic, he took the off ramp onto South Boyle Avenue. They parked in front of an apartment complex across the street from Mendez Towing, where their suspect was believed to hold court.

"What do you know about this guy?" Callen asked as Deeks shot a few pictures with his long lens.

"Enrique Mendez. Man of a thousand tattoos. That's actually his tag line if you can believe it," Deeks said with a long sigh. "He loved Max Gentry. That should tell you everything you need to know about the guy."

"Couldn't get anything on him?"

"Got pulled out."

"Why?"

"Ray warned me Mendez was getting nervous about another dealer. He was afraid he was being set up, so he bailed. Left the state, and Bates pulled the plug on the whole operation."

"He ever try and contact Max again?" Callen asked.

"Didn't answer that particular phone," Deeks replied. "I was already on another assignment at a certain MMA gym."

"The one where Sam beat you up?" Callen smirked.

"One and the same, brother," he replied, but smiled. "I might have lost that fight, but I met Kensi. And that, my friend, is what I call a win, win."

"You are a lucky man," Callen said. "Hold on. Check out the Jag. Little high class for this neighborhood, wouldn't you say?"

Deeks lifted his camera as they entered the lot and pulled to a stop, firing off multiple shots of the driver and his passenger as they exited the vehicle. Callen put in his comm and motioned for Deeks to do the same, then pulled his phone and called up the photograph of the foreign operative they were after.

"That's our guy," Callen said. "Banu Hamed of Yemen. Said to be a minor participant in the terror attack on the USS Cole in October of 2000. Looks like he's moved up in the terrorist hierarchy."

"Anyone else with him, Mr. Callen?" Hetty's voice coming through loud and clear on comms.

"Hold on," Deeks said. "Grey panel van pulling in. Two passengers."

"Photos, Mr. Deeks," she said.

"Sending them now," he replied. "Looks like this deal is about to happen."

"Bugger," Hetty replied. "Nell. Get Sam and a tactical squad out there."

"I already alerted Sam and Fatima, but they're at least fifteen minutes out," Nell added. "And the tactical squad is about twenty. Maybe longer."

"This wasn't supposed to happen this fast, but it is what it is," Hetty said. "Mr. Callen? You cannot let them finalize that deal. We need to secure those Stinger missiles if Mendez has them."

"Understood."

They watched as a boxy Penske rental truck backed out of the garage toward the van. Deeks shook his head, recalling how clever Mendez had always been. That yellow truck wouldn't garner a second look as it transported weapons around the city or up and down the state.

"So...what's the plan, G?"

"You never call me G," Callen breathed out as he checked his weapon.

"So, I can't call you G, even though we are about to get ourselves killed?" Deeks asked as he pulled his own weapon and slid a bullet into the chamber.

"Sam might have an opinion on that when he gets here," Callen said.

"So, we're waiting for backup?"

"If we can," Callen replied calmly. "Anybody got an updated ETA on Sam or the tactical squad?"

"We'll be there in twelve minutes, G," Sam shouted over comms. "Make that ten."

"Not sure we can wait, partner," Callen said, sounding a little more anxious.

The beeping from the truck as it reversed toward the back of the idling van acted as a countdown to the upcoming firefight. When it suddenly stopped, they looked at each other, Deeks blowing out his breath in preparation as Callen started the engine. Eight men, including Mendez, milled around the two vehicles. One slid the door up on the back of the Penske truck while another opened the backdoor of the van. Banu Hamed stood by the side of his Jaguar, yelling something to his men.

"What if those boxes don't contain any weapons?" Deeks asked quietly.

"Then we'll apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said in his ear. "Now go."

Callen swung the car out away from the curb and made a quick left turn across the street, gunning it as they roared through the open chain-link gate. Men scattered as he drove the car between the two trucks, slamming into the crate and the two men carrying it to the van. One of the stolen Stinger missiles flew out and into their windshield, shattering it into a spiderweb of glass. Deeks felt the sting when several pieces cut his face as Callen wheeled the car into a three sixty turn. The staccato of automatic weapons fire filled the air and bullets peppered the car as Callen floored it again and ran down two men firing at them. Deeks took out another gunman before the car spun sideways and crashed into the chain-link fence, smoke rising from its dead engine. Callen's door was pinned against the fence, but Deeks jumped out and began firing on Mendez. Callen crawled out behind him and took out the remaining shooter. As Deeks started toward Mendez, Callen shouted a warning as the Hamed's Jaguar roared toward the gate. Before either of them could fire, the Jag clipped Deeks, sending him over the hood of their damaged car and into the chain-link fence.

"Deeks!"

He thought he heard Callen shout his name as he ran past him firing at the Jaguar as it tore out onto the street, its tires squealing on the asphalt. The noise became muted as he lay in a semi-conscious heap against the fence, trying to catch his breath. When the shooting stopped, he struggled to get up, clutching at the chain-link, worried about Callen.

"Stay down, Deeks," Sam said as he knelt over him, blocking out the sun. "Just stay down."

"Callen?" He groaned.

"He's good," Sam said. "He's down the street cuffing Banu Hamed."

"We got him?"

"Yes, Mr. Deeks, you did," Hetty said. "Well done."

"Help me up, Sam," Deeks asked as his vision began to clear.

"You sure?" Sam asked. "Cause you look like hell."

"We should be dead," he replied. "Don't let Callen drive your car, Sam. Ever."

"I've known that for a long time," Sam laughed, helping him to his feet. "You're gonna need stitches. Hopefully, nothing's broken except G's car."

Deeks felt a trickle of blood along his cheek and swiped at it, only to wince at the stab of sharp pain from a tiny shard of glass embedded below his eye. He began to assess his bruised body, but other than a very achy hip and sore ribs, he seemed to be in one piece.

"Deeks? You okay?" Callen asked, jogging through the gate.

"Awesome," he managed to whisper. "Sam said you got the guy."

"We both did, with a little help from Sam and Fatima."

"Can we go home now, or do we have to tackle the shitload of paperwork that'll be waiting for us back at Ops?" Deeks groaned.

"I believe a trip to the hospital is in your immediate future, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said on comms. "Yours too, Mr. Callen."

"Why me? I didn't let myself get hit by a Jaguar," Callen complained.

"Really? That was your fault. You're the one who crashed the car," Deeks pointed out.

"My word. You two sound like a couple of kindergarteners," Hetty said.

"I'll drive both of them to emergency, Hetty," Sam said. "Callen's car is now part of a crime scene. He may need a new one."

"Shotgun," Deeks called, wincing as he pushed himself away from the car.

"I guess you earned it," Callen conceded.

Deeks limped along between them, wondering if he should call Kensi. She wasn't due back from Pendleton till the weekend, which was two days away, and he didn't want her to worry. He wasn't that badly hurt, just banged up and bleeding a little. All in a day's work. He thought about calling his mom, but she would overreact and fuss over him too much. So he decided to keep today's drama to himself.

After a three-hour visit to the hospital for X-rays and stitches, Sam drove them to the bar. Hetty greeted them when they walked in.

"Couldn't wait to debrief us, Hetty?" Callen asked.

"That was my idea until I got here," she replied. "I'm afraid I had to help myself to the scotch. The place was closed when I arrived. This sign was posted on the door."

She held up a piece of paper with a scribbled note saying the bar was closed until tomorrow. It was in his mom's handwriting. Deeks was stunned, and speechless for the moment.

"Just curious, Hetty," Callen said. "Wasn't the place locked up?"

"Yes, but it wouldn't be the first bar I've broken into," she replied. "And don't bother looking for your mother Mr. Deeks. I searched the place thoroughly. She isn't here. However, I did find this note beside the cash register."

He snatched it from her hand, and quickly read it. It made no sense and gave no clues, and he suddenly felt weak in the knees and sunk slowly into the nearest chair.

"Mama. Where the hell are you and what are you doing?"

...

...