So, I find myself without sleep and a rabid plot kitten running around on my brain, and demanding I write this. Meh. I hope you guys like it.

This will be posted in three parts. This is parts one through three.

I turn fourteen in six days! Woo hoo!

One - Deeks

Gordon Brandel wasn't the only one.

His uncle's name was Tony, and he scared Marty Deeks more then Gordon ever did. He was a linebacker in college football, and towered over him. And boy, did Tony know how to pack a punch. Deeks could have easily saved himself a world of hurt had he only reported it, but he had a little sister, Mariana, and Tony could have easily gotten to her. He survived those years of Gordon and Tony because he always told himself that by surviving he was saving his beautiful baby sister. His little Mari was safe, and completely oblivious.

When he was eighteen, Deeks had taken Mariana and ran, ran from his tormentors. She was a kindergarten teacher now. Her first child was due in early June, and she was to be married in a few weeks. Deeks couldn't have been any prouder of her if Mariana had won the nobel peace prize.

He told himself he was over them, over the faint scars that scribbled over his body. But he wasn't. Not really.

When Abby Sciuto mentioned a friend of hers named Tony, he didn't blink, move, or even breathe until he heard Eric call the man DiNozzo.

Two - G

There's a balcony, in their new building. G goes up there sometimes, and sits on the railing, looking down at the street below. One day he leaned too far forward and fell.

It wasn't an accident, but he would never tell anyone that.

The doctors said he was lucky he escaped with three broken ribs, a concussion, and a fractured arm. His team were all there, Sam yelling at him for being reckless, Kensi telling him over and over how scared she was, and Deeks just stood there, a sad frown on his face.

He didn't tell them about the 'accidental' leaning, or the gun at his temple when he first joined the agency, the razor hovering over his wrist at college, the time when he tried to hang himself in high school... He never told them any of it.

But G suspected that Sam knew. Sam always knew. G suspected when the next time the two of them were near an edge of something, he saw his partner looking at him intently, seemingly ready to drag him back to solid ground.

But even though he suspected Sam knew, suspected that Sam knew this was his ninth attempt, he never, ever admitted it.

G was secretly scared that if they found out how messed up he really was, they would run screaming and he'd be alone again.

Three - Hetty

Hetty had a daughter.

Not by birth, but when she found the toddler, sitting on the beach completely emaciated and with the saddest look on her tiny face, with the bodies of her parents lying close by... She couldn't leave the baby. It was Soviet Russia, and a bad part of it, and that baby was the daughter of two mafia members. She never would have made it without Hetty.

She took the child with her and escaped over the border and out of the country. Hetty named the toddler Clara, and she was the most beautiful little girl she'd ever seen. Luckily enough no one asked any questions when you moved to a new city, and L.A. didn't know Hetty Lange didn't have any children.

Clara was like a baby angel, with golden curls that bounced around her tiny face. Her eyes were the bluest Hetty had seen, like pools of liquid sky. And her smile... God, the child's smile was so sweet, and innocent, and full of love. Hetty could still remember how she looked on Christmas morning, and sounded when she said 'Mama', and there was a photo of a six year old Clara taped to the underside of a drawer of her desk, where nobody would ever see it.

Hetty still visited Clara's grave, whenever she could.

Clara Lange

1965 - 1971

My Angel