Promises to Keep

Epilogue

...

Deeks motioned for Callen to move position and saw him nod and crouch low to the ground as he made his way around the corner, his breath foggy around his face. Deeks gathered his ammunition and hurried to flank the exit, waiting expectantly for their target to finally make his appearance. He glanced at Callen and they both grinned, but the sound of the opening door sobered them and they both became tense as the target walked nonchalantly out on the porch and down the steps, pausing at the bottom totally unaware of the danger he was in. Deeks' snowball hit Joe square in the side of the head and Callen's exploded in a satisfying splat at the base of his neck and Joe let out a threatening string of curses and charged straight at Deeks, tackling him into a pile of snow and giggling like a schoolboy.

"You ganged up on me with Callen?" Joe yelled as he held Deeks down and rubbed snow in his face. "He's the new guy. We should be the ones burying him in snow, little brother."

"Yeah, let's do it," Deeks sputtered as he struggled under Joe's weight. "Help me up."

Joe got up and pulled him to his feet, his wide smile infectious and slightly diabolical as the two men turned to face a grinning Callen who was standing tantalizingly in front of a large snow bank. Deeks looked at Joe and then back at Callen, whose smile was slowly fading as he realized he was the brothers' next target. He made a try for the porch steps, but slipped, looking up as the two men charged him, yelling and hooting as they tackled him into the snow drift, piling heaping handfuls of snow on his head and face and shoving more down inside his jacket and shirt. He managed to slam some snow down the back of Deek's parka, but was blinded by a well-placed mound of the fluffy white stuff from his laughing brother.

"You boys ready for some breakfast?" George interrupted from the porch. "Coffee's hot, but Diane's not gonna let you eat her buttermilk pancakes till you change outa those wet clothes. So come on in, boys. We still gotta go find our Christmas tree before it starts snowin' again."

Deeks and Joe pulled Callen out of the deep snow and after a bout of shoving, the three men draped their arms over each other shoulders and stumbled toward the steps, their breath clouding their smiles as they laughed.

They all went to change and when Callen came out he found George warming his back in front of the fireplace, a bemused look on his face.

"Glad you decided to come," George said as Callen stood staring into the fire.

"Thanks for having me," Callen said softly. "You've got a great place here."

"Thanks for looking after my boy," George told him quietly. "You mean a lot to this family."

Callen didn't reply and George looked at him sharply, before heading into the kitchen and returning with a mug of coffee. He handed it to Callen, who nodded as he took it, his eyes returning quickly to the fire as he drank.

"Marty wasn't used to family either at first," George said. "He didn't trust that something so simple could be real. At least not for him. But he needed a family and so do you. We'd like you to be part of ours. In our minds you already are."

"You don't have to say that," Callen said gruffly, stepping away.

"No, I don't, but you care about my son and he cares about you," George told him quietly. "He told me you were like another brother to him and that makes you family in my book."

Deeks and Joe came into the room together, quickly noticing how stiffly Callen was holding himself and they exchanged knowing glances before Deeks slapped him on the back.

"Did Dad tell you guys about The Great Christmas Tree Hunt?" Joe asked. "No? Every year since I can remember, we saddle up the horses on Christmas Eve and head over beyond the birches to a big stand of fir trees. We take along some thermoses of coffee and we all pick out our favorite tree and then George decides which one we haul back and decorate tonight."

"Told you we'd get you on a horse before you left," Deeks laughed.

"No way," Callen said, shaking his head.

"You afraid?" Joe laughed as he punched him lightly on the arm.

"Give it a rest, Joe," Diane yelled from the kitchen. "Come and get these pancakes before they get cold."

"Did I hear pancakes?" Kensi asked as she carried Chris into the room.

"Hey, let me hold him," Deeks asked as he intercepted her. "You always eat with both hands when you have pancakes."

"Do not," she pouted as she handed the little boy over to Deeks.

Callen was the last to sit down at the table, keeping quiet as Joe told stories about his new son and Diane kept piling pancakes and bacon on everyone's plates. Deeks entertained the baby, smiling softly and talking baby talk to him until Diane scooped him up and wrinkled her nose at the smell before heading back to the bedroom to change him.

"Where's Uncle Jim?" Deeks asked as he drenched his pancakes in maple syrup.

"He's checking on Sheila," George said. "Only a couple of months to go."

"He's missing Elan," Joe said softly.

They all went silent at that and finished their breakfast and coffee quickly.

"You coming with us to find a Christmas tree, Kens," Deeks asked as he stood and headed for the door.

"No thanks. I'll keep Diane company and let you big strong men bring home the prize," she ended in a soft Southern twang.

"You staying with the womenfolk, G?" Deeks drawled, exaggerating the accent.

"Okay, okay. I'll come, if you both promise to stop talking like those guys on Duck Dynasty," he said, catching the coat Joe tossed to him.

The four men trudged toward the barn through the crisp snow, now brilliant under the low sun. Deeks caught Joe watching him, the look on his face making it obvious what he was thinking about, so he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at him.

"Don't Joe, it's Christmas," he said, a slight hint of pleading in his tone.

"Yeah, sorry," Joe replied softly, reaching out to muss Deeks' hair before shoving him toward the barn.

They found Jim Littleshield in the stall with Sheila, who whinnied loudly when she caught sight of Deeks. They watched as he went about his exam, answering Deeks' questions as they talked quietly about the coming birth. When Deeks finally entered the stall, Sheila immediately moved to push her head against his chest, snuffling softly and making the men smile.

"She missed you," Jim said.

"Her belly is huge. How's she doing?" Deeks asked, rubbing his hand along her silky neck.

"Gonna be a good sized foal," Jim said. "Probably drop her in February."

"Come up with a name for her yet, Son?" George asked.

"Ruthie. He's gonna name her Ruthie," Elan said, surprising them all as he came up behind them.

"Elan? You made it," Deeks said, walking quickly out of the stall to envelope his cousin in an intense hug. Joe wrapped his arms around both of them as the others gathered closely around.

"Thought I heard a truck. Did Lily come with you?" Callen asked with a hopeful smile.

"She's in the house," he answered, but kept his eyes on his uncle as he made his way slowly toward him, the old man's eyes shining with tears as Elan hugged him gently.

"You okay?" Jim asked as he pushed him back to take a look at him.

"Still limping a little, but I'm good," he said.

"Can you ride?" George asked. "Crow needs some exercise."

"I can always ride," Elan said firmly, before smiling widely. "Wouldn't want to miss The Great Christmas Tree Hunt."

"What horse you gonna try and get Callen on?" Deeks asked lightly.

"I'm thinking that rank stallion you brought over from the Rez, Cousin Jim," Joe said with a slight smile.

"Don't be a smart ass, son," George said. "Go saddle that Appaloosa gelding. He's easygoing for a first timer."

"What makes you think I'm a first time rider?" Callen asked as he crossed his arms in front of him.

"Deeks told us," Joe answered.

"Well, Deeks would be wrong then," Callen said. "I once spent three days on a Mongolian horse, traveling with some nomads who rescued me after Chinese agents left me for dead. That horse was small, but he had stamina and kept moving even when I fell asleep in the saddle. Lucky for me, they'd tied me on or I wouldn't be here ready to go find a Christmas tree."

"Really?" Deeks looked stunned.

"Why would I lie?" Callen asked with a small grin.

"Seriously? You lie for a living?" Deeks laughed.

"Well son, if it is just a tall tale, it's a damn good one," George said with a hearty laugh. "You'll like Scout. He's smart and calm. Doesn't scare easily."

"Sounds like a perfect match," Joe quipped. "Now what about our little brother here?"

"Ruthie called you the Lone Ranger, Cuz," Elan laughed. "She told me you should ride a white horse which I might have mentioned to Uncle Jim during one of our phone calls."

"Traded for this Leopard Appaloosa," Jim said as he led a speckled white horse over to Deeks. "He's a stallion, so stay sharp."

When they were all mounted and started out, Deeks looked longingly back at Sheila as she kicked at the door of her stall, wanting to go with him as she always had. The six riders guided their horses through the gate and spread out over the crusted field of snow, heading for the familiar group of stark white bare birches and the dark green stand of fir trees far beyond in the notch between two hills. They were in no hurry, and Deeks called out his sighting of a Red Tail Hawk, earning a surprised look from Callen and a proud nod from George. Elan had started out at the same slow pace as the others, but he finally shook his head and whooped, kicking his black horse into a sudden gallop and raced across the frozen ground in a wide arc, his black hair mimicking Crow's tail as it streamed out behind him. His loud yells were joyous and rang out across the valley, joined by a few responses from Littleshield and the pure, free laughter of the men. When he swung back to them, he challenged Deeks and Joe to a race to the birches and the three were off, Deeks horse quickly taking the lead.

"You didn't tell me he was fast, Jim," George said.

"Got some thoroughbred blood in him and his sire ran the quarter horse circuit for a few years," he replied with a laugh. "Must of slipped my mind."

The three men watched with wide smiles until the race ended at the birches, Deeks bowing low over the saddle, his arms spread out wide as Joe and Elan conceded the race.

"It's good to see him so happy," Callen said softly.

"Is this how he used to be before I met him?" George asked.

"Yeah, a little bit. He's not quite the laid back surfer he used to be, but he's getting there." Callen answered. "He began to lighten up after Preston Burke was killed and Ruthie was safe, but he's still holding something inside he's not telling."

"We all have our secrets," George remarked quietly. "For some people it's just easier than facing the pain. I imagine you have a few secrets of your own."

"A few."

"Marty shared some of what he went through," George said. "Must have been tough for you to watch."

"Tough to get out of my head, too," Callen said.

"Look around you, son. You're surrounded by some of the most beautiful land in the country and by people who consider you family. Anything you need to work out, you can do it here and if you want to talk, I'll listen. This ranch has brought solace to each of us at one time or another. Even Jürgen couldn't change that." George reached over and squeezed Callen shoulder gently and Callen looked over at him, his eyes searching his face for any falseness, but he saw only honesty and acceptance.

The ride continued, mostly in silence, each man caught up in his own thoughts. Callen noticed Deeks' look of concern when Elan began rubbing his injured leg, but the big man just brushed it off as nothing and pulled Deeks' old straw hat off and hit him with it when he became annoying and then took off with Deeks in pursuit, both men laughing.

"I gave him a real nice warm hat for winter, but he wouldn't wear it," George said, shaking his head. "Said he didn't want to get it dirty."

"The way those three are actin', it was probably a good idea," Jim said. "You should go join 'em, Callen."

"I'm happy right where I am," he replied.

"Since you're family now, seems like we should be calling you by your first name?" Jim said as he pulled Red to a stop.

Callen shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as the two old men turned their mounts to face him. For some reason he was surprised that Deeks hadn't told them about his lack of a first name, but slowly warmed to realization that he had respected his privacy, knowing it was not his story to tell.

"Call me G," he said quietly.

"That stand for something, son?" George asked.

"No one ever told me," he answered quickly and kicked his horse, guiding him between the two men.

They let him be and soon they were all spread out, riding through the sweet smelling fir trees, calling out wise cracks until each had found a Christmas tree to their liking. Then they waited for George's final selection, smiling at how seriously he was taking it. He inspected each one several times, listening to the pleading pitches of the men as they pointed out their tree's finer points. There were groans of defeat when George chose Callen's tree as the winner, but laughter and joking banter won out as Joe and Deeks cut it down and Elan tied a rope around the base and hitched it to Callen's saddle horn. George passed around a big thermos of coffee before they headed back, Deeks riding close by Callen, talking quietly to him, their voices lost in the gathering wind.

...

"You picked a good one, G," Deeks said as they stood in front of the big fir tree, now covered in lights and ornaments and draped in garlands of popcorn and cranberries.

"I feel like we're in a movie," he replied.

"Or 'Little House on the Prairie'," Deeks said softly. "It still amazes me when I come here. Never thought I'd be this comfortable in the wilds of Wyoming, but it just feels like home now. I'm glad you came, man."

"Me too. George is..." he paused, unable to find the words to express his feelings.

"He won't ever lie to you," Deeks told him as he draped an arm over his shoulder. "So, don't lie to him. Believe me, he'll know if you do and he'll call you on it. He'll respect your need for privacy, but he might push a little if he thinks you need it. You can trust him, G. He's on your side."

"You picked a good family to be a part of, kid," Callen said.

"They picked me, G and now they've set their sights on you," Deeks smiled.

"Reminds me of Hetty," Callen laughed, turning to look around the room.

"Yeah, and that reminds me, I have a gift she wants me to deliver," Deeks said as his eyes came to rest on Elan.

He had his arms wrapped around Lily's waist, as they stood in front of the glowing fire, oblivious to those around them until Deeks tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can I talk to you, Elan?" Deeks asked.

"Sure, Cuz," he answered, gently kissing the top of Lily's head before following him into the empty kitchen.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Hetty asked me to give you this," Deeks said, holding an envelope out to him. "But, before you open it, I want you to know that she interrogated me about you when I got back and she is very good at it. She has her eye on you, which means she probably knows more about you than you want her to."

"What did you tell her about me, Cuz?" Elan asked easily.

"I told her you snore incredibly loud and that you smell like horses most of the time," he flashed a smile before becoming quiet and serious. "And I told her about your son."

"Why would you do that?"

"I thought she might be able to help," he answered. "But I'm sorry if it upsets you."

Elan turned his back on him and ripped open the envelope. By now, everyone in the living room was watching them and Deeks caught Callen's eye, his expression full of doubt that he had done the right thing. Elan stepped toward a lamp, his hand trembling slightly as he read the letter. When he turned back to Deeks, his face had softened and his eyes were glazed with tears.

"How?"

"Remember Eric, the tech that helped us in Paris? Well, he can track down just about anybody and Hetty asked him to do a search," Deeks told him. "She wanted to repay you for your help."

"What's going on, Elan?" Jim Littleshield asked as he joined them.

"They found my son."

...

Spring, Los Angeles, California

...

Deeks inhaled the soft warm air, hoping it would calm his anxiousness as he rang the doorbell and waited, his mind returning to the night of the first attack as he looked down at the bushes where Cruz had died. He hadn't seen Ruthie since returning from France, talking to her only once over the phone when he got back to LA. Paul Walters had contacted Hetty afterwards, asking that he not call again, explaining that he wanted Ruthie to get back to normal, worried that talking to him might bring back all the bad memories. Deeks had understood his concern and the man's desire to protect her, but it still left him feeling sad and a little empty. So, he'd been surprised when Hetty had come into the bullpen all these months later to tell him that Paul Walters had called, asking if he would come and see Ruthie. As he waited at the front door of her grandfather's house he wondered what had happened to make her father change his mind, fearful once again for the little girl he had made promises to.

"Can I help you?" The irritated woman who unexpectedly opened the door was a younger version of Paul Walters with intelligent eyes, and a short, no nonsense hair cut.

"I'm Marty Deeks," he said.

"Of course," she said. "Sorry. It's been a bit crazy around here. I'm Faye Walters, Paul's sister. Thank you so much for coming."

She stepped back for him to enter and as he did more memories flooded into his mind and he searched the familiar rooms for Ruthie.

"Paul's in the kitchen," she said, leading the way. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds good. I've only had three this morning," he said with a wide smile, but his small attempt at humor got no response.

"Agent Deeks," Paul Walters reached out to shake his hand, but he looked frazzled, and Deeks' own agitation grew as he looked over at the couch where he had slept the night of Preston Burke's first attempt to take Ruthie.

"How is she?" he asked, tired of all the social politeness.

"Out of control," Paul said quietly. "Faye has been kind enough to move here so Ruthie could be in familiar surroundings, and things were fine for awhile..."

"What happened?" Deeks asked as Paul's voice trailed off.

"Tuesday was Ruthie's birthday, the first without her mother and she's not handling it well," Faye Walters answered. "She hasn't talked to me since."

"She hasn't talked at all, and that's not like her," Paul said, his exasperation plain. "I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I called you."

"Last resort, yeah?" he said seriously.

"Up until Tuesday, she talked about you all the time," Faye said with a faint smile. "She called you her Lone Ranger, but Tuesday at her birthday party she got very upset and said nobody cared about her, not even you."

"I called you because she needs to know that's not true," Paul said.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In the orchard."

"Let me guess. She's up in the old apricot tree," Deeks grinned softly, his eyes softening at the memory of their first meeting.

Both nodded and he turned toward the door to the patio, moving quickly past her room and out into the familiar landscape of the old farm. He slammed the gate loudly to alert her to his presence as he walked into the orchard of apricot trees, pausing as he became aware of the soft hum of bees moving over the delicate white blossoms. Slowly winding his way through the trees, he was excited about seeing her again, but concerned about whether she would accept him or refuse to have anything more to do with him, their bond sadly lost in the aftermath. When he reached the old gnarled apricot tree she favored, he saw a branch shake and a shower of broken petals marked her hiding place, so he stooped down to pick up a piece of fallen fruit, still tinged with green.

"You think this apricot is too green to eat?" he asked softly. "I wouldn't want to get a stomach ache."

He heard her climb higher, studiously ignoring his question and staying silent. When she finally settled, he could see her face and she was chewing her bottom lip as she watched him.

"You are the expert in these things," he said as he tentatively nibbled at the firm piece of fruit. "When I first met you, I didn't even know what kind of fruit this was. I've learned a lot from you."

"I eat the green ones all the time," she called down. "Aunty Faye says I shouldn't, but she doesn't know anything."

"I know she's worried about you," he said as he walked over to the base of the tree. "So's your dad."

"He's not my real father," she said sullenly.

"That's not true, Ruthie. He's loved you your whole life. That's what real fathers do," he said, reaching up to grab a branch, pulling himself up and onto one of the lower limbs.

She didn't say anything, just watched him with big sad eyes full of tears.

"I see you got new glasses," he remarked as he settled on the limb. "Makes you look older."

"I'm ten," she sniffled. "I didn't like my birthday cake. It was ugly. Aunty Faye bought it."

"I didn't even get a birthday cake on my tenth birthday," he told her as he stared out at the steep ridge behind the orchard.

"How come?"

"My real dad said I didn't deserve one," he answered. "He said screw-ups didn't get birthday cakes."

"What did you do?" She climbed down beside him and took his hand.

"I guess I was bad," he said quietly. "I was never really sure how to make him happy."

"What about your mom?" she whispered. "Did you make her happy?"

"I tried," he said. "I would tell her funny stories when she was sad and sometimes she would laugh so hard she'd cry."

"I miss my mom."

"I know, sweetie. I miss mine too," he told her, brushing her wild hair out of her eyes.

"Aunty Faye is trying to be my mom now, but she's not very good at it," Ruthie said with a deep sigh.

"Maybe you could teach her how," he said with a lopsided grin. "You're very good at telling people what to do."

She giggled at that and he felt himself relax just a little.

"I brought you a birthday present," he said as he pulled a picture out of the back pocket of his jeans.

"Really? What it is?"

"Not so fast, Wonder Woman," he said, holding the picture just out of reach. "You have to promise me something first."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll give your Aunty Faye a chance. She's new at this mom thing, so be patient with her, okay?" He watched her closely until she nodded solemnly, but rolled her eyes as she did, making him laugh.

"Can I have my present now?" she asked, tugging on his sleeve.

"No. I need one more promise," he said softly. "Promise you'll give your dad a hug. George taught me that they like that kind of thing."

"Okay, I promise," she said dramatically, crossing her heart as she nodded.

The photograph he handed her showed him standing between Sheila and her new foal, the birch trees behind them bright with new leaves. She took it shyly, her smile growing as she examined it carefully.

"What's the baby's name?"

"I named her Ruthie, after you."

He knew he would never forget the smile she gave him.

...

...

The end

...

Thanks to all you faithful readers for following this long journey. For those who sent reviews, it was always a pleasure to read your comments and I appreciated your valued insights about all three stories in this trilogy. Wishing you all a joyous holiday season and an exciting new year.