And here is the end to this little story. "Plan B" have always been my favorite episode and I've always wanted to write something going back to Deeks' and Ray's conversation. Hope it made justice to an episode I truly love. Thank you to anyone that gave this a chance, I really appreciate it.

As the cop kept talking, Marty's mind became a mix of past and present. The words sounding similar to the ones that had been spoken on his house that night. The first time in his life that he had feared he could someday end up in jail. The second was today. That day the words had been spoken to his father. Today, they were being spoken to him. Like father, like son his conscience told him.

"Please, exit the vehicle." The cop repeated, as one of his hands moved towards the waistband of his trousers. "This is an order."

Taking the initiative, as the older boy and the one who had come up with this plan, Ray carefully turned around and fully exited the vehicle. Hands raised as directed and a stern look on his face. Marty then followed. Hands slightly shaking, and heart beating fast.

"IDs." The cop continued. "IDs." He repeated after seeing no movement from the boys.

Taking a minute to really notice the teenagers in front of him, the LAPD officer saw no malice in their eyes. Then he noticed the map still held in the younger boy's hand, a circle around the name Malibu, and he partially understood. "What are your names? I'm sure you have a set of worried parents looking for you." He decided to change his approach. Concerned and friendly might win them over.

"Don't say anything." Ray spoke quickly, stealing a quick glance to his friend who was standing a few feet behind.

"I'm trying to help you boys. I'm sure you both know you're in big trouble." Radio crackling to life, the officer informed dispatch that the car had been located, and the suspects were currently being apprehended. "Names?" He asked again after lowering the radio's volume.

"Max." Marty said simply, deciding to take the initiative this time. "We're sorry for the misunderstanding, we thought this was my uncle's car. He had lent it to us but the keys were inside the house, and we lost ours so couldn't get in." He continued, spinning out the first tale that came to mind.

"So… you decided to hotwire it? Where do you even learn a skill like that?" Deciding to follow Max's lead, and choosing to ignore the many ways in which teenagers could learn such desirable skills, the cop continued in his unthreatening approach.

"The library." Marty replied quickly. Hands on his pockets so the police officer wouldn't notice them shaking.

"What's your last name, son? And address?" The cop asked, question directed to the smaller boy now.

"Don't call me that! I'm not your son." Marty responded angrily, voice raising for the first time, and a hardness that wasn't there before appearing on his features. His pale blue eyes turning dark and cloudy.

"What's your real name, Max?" The cop enquired, deciding to stop playing games, and silently wondering who this teenager really was. More than just his name, but about his story. "I'm only trying to lessen your troubles, and believe me when I say you face many." He concluded as his hand moved to his side as if searching for something near his pocket.

Radio cackling back to life, the voice known as dispatch contacted the officer again, asking for a report. "On the way to the station now." The man lied, not feeling the need for more officers to get involved.

"Name?" He asked with an ounce of finality on his voice. Radio still on his hand, a silent threat of worse things to come.

"Marty." The younger boy not named Max responded. "Marty Deeks." Walking forward, the teenager joined his wrists and turned around, an unspoken invitation for the cop to cuff him.

Recognizing the gesture, the LAPD officer again wondered who the boy was, and he hoped he knew of the position from cop shows or movies, and not that he already had a criminal record and bad history with the law. "Do I need to cuff you, so… Marty?" Remembering his previous reaction to being call son, the man corrected to his first name. The gesture apparently having worked as Marty uncrossed his arms and turned back to face him. "Will you stab or shoot me while I drive you boys to the station, I trust neither of you will do that. I'm sure your worried parents must be already waiting for you." The cop tried to joke, but again was surprised at the shadow that crossed the boy's eyes after his comment. Each time he thought he had gotten closer to the teenager, something happened to drive him back again. He truly was a mystery.

Turning to Ray, the cop again asked for a name, taking the boy at his word after he gave him a first and last name. Then he directed the teenagers to the backseat of his cruiser and radioed dispatch to send someone to pick up the broken down Camaro. Wanting to know more of the teenagers, especially of the one named Marty, he tried to engage in small talk, but receiving only short, uninterested responses, he decided instead to turn on the radio and focus on the road ahead.

As the City of Angels moved outside the car's window, Marty Deeks noticed things he had never seen before. Darkened alleys with people sleeping on its streets. Broken down signs and lights no longer working on store fronts. Abandoned houses and dirty streets. The cheerful city of children trick-or-treating was no longer there. Replaced by the realities of a world unknown to the teenager and one he never wanted to be a part of. One that might have been invisible for a 16 year old boy, except when looked at from the inside of a police cruiser. A dark reality that made him realize he wasn't the only person in the world facing a harsh life. Some people, unfortunately, had it much worse. It was a life he didn't desire for himself, and a reality for other people that he could try to fight one day.

He chuckled at the thought. He was no hero. Just a teenage boy on the wrong side of a police car.

-x-x-x-

Reaching the station a few minutes later, Marty Deeks drew in a deep breath. Shaking hands still inside the pockets of his jeans, and heart beating faster than ever before. The sweat trickling down his neck a clear indication of how frightened he was. A feeling he hadn't experienced in nearly five years. Since the day he had stopped being scared of his own shadow, after the monster that lived on the room next door had finally gone to prison.

Taking small steps, he exited the car and marched behind the officer and Ray towards the station. A slight stumble as he reached the first step that would led him to the front door. Los Angeles Police Department written in blue letters in the white front wall of the building.

The whole experience felt surreal. As if he was an outsider forced to live the life of someone else. Because Marty Deeks was never meant to end up in jail. At least not for something like stealing. As he would have gladly been arrested for shooting his father and saving his mother. But there was a big gap between the rightness of self-defense and the wrongness of a true crime. And now he stood in the middle.

Following the cop's lead, Marty and Ray walked through the precinct and into an office located at the far right. "Please, take a sit. I will be back soon." The cop directed as he pointed to two empty chairs situated in front of the big desk in the center of the office. The door partially closing behind the man as he exited the room.

The boys remained silent at first. Both stuck inside their heads, trying to understand the situation they had gotten themselves into. "I'm sorry." Ray eventually whispered. "But everything will be okay, I promise."

"You can't be sure of that, Ray." Marty said sadly. Remembering all the times his mother had promised everything would be okay, but it hadn't. Just as they had no guarantees today would be any different. "But it's okay. I don't blame you." Deeks continued sincerely. Ray had been there for him when no one else had, and if it wasn't for his friend, he and his mama wouldn't even be alive right now.

Silence again enclosed the room after the few words shared by the teenagers. As time ticked by, Marty wondered what was taking so long. Then his mind went farther away, as he imagined himself being booked and locked in a prison cell. The imaginary sound of the metal bars closing and locking him inside making his heart fall. Marty Deeks didn't belong in a prison cell. Marty Deeks was meant to be better than his upbringing.

The door opening drew the teenagers away from their thoughts and back into the room. The arresting officer then walked inside and sat behind the desk. "Good evening, Martin, Ray." He started. "We have contacted your parents and they are on their way. Along with a prosecutor and my unit chief. We still don't know if the owner of the car is pressing charges, he is also on his way. For now, you're looking at joyriding, but the charges could escalate depending on what he says and after we determine if any other damage was caused." He continued to explain. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Both Marty and Ray nodded. Not knowing what else to say. Just wanting to learn their fate.

"Do you want something to drink while you wait?" Boys nodded again. The police officer then got up and went outside to the soda machine, getting some cokes and giving one to each boy, along with a package of Oreos he had decided to add. "Enjoy." He said with a smile, trying to ease their worries. Then he exited the office and closed the door again.

"How bad can it be, joyriding? I mean it has the word joy in it, it can't be that bad." Ray said in between nervous sniggers.

"Yeah…" Marty spoke dejectedly. Worst case scenarios going through his mind. Could I meet my father again if I'm sent to the same prison? He silently wondered. Heart beating fast at the farfetched possibility entered his train of thought.

The next time Marty realized where he was, the door had opened again. He had been so lost in thought he wasn't even sure how much time had passed. "Ray, could you come with me?" The officer asked, another man similarly dressed in a blue uniform standing beside him. Seeing the edginess in the boy's eyes, he quickly added. "Your situations are a bit different, so we will just take you to another office so they can start your case."

Ray turned to look at Marty, the little brother he never had, and the friend he always felt he had to protect. "Go." The younger boy spoke sadly. "I will be okay, I will see you later." He concluded doubtfully. Not sure when, or if, he would be able to see his friend again.

Looking down at his hands, Marty's heart again began to beat faster as Ray exited the room with the other man and he was left alone in front of the police officer that had arrested him.

"Can you tell me what else happened tonight, Marty?" The friendly cop began. "Were you boys drinking?" He asked directly. "I'm just trying to help you." He added quickly after noticing Marty's eyes darkening again.

"I don't drink." Marty responded drily.

Head turned sideways, the officer decided to believe his words based on the seriousness on his features. "Ok. Anything else I should know?"

Marty shook his head and then lowered his sight again. Not really wanting to chat. An uncommon occurrence for the usually overly-talkative teenager.

"I called a lawyer friend, he will help." The officer informed him, before again getting up from his chair. "And… eat your Oreos, Marty" He directed, and then walked to the door with a grin on his face. Cookies never failed to put a smile on his kids' faces and hopefully they would do the trick tonight as well.

After the cop left the room again, Marty was left alone for the first time that night. Gingerly opening the package, he began to slowly bite on the cookies, and was surprised to find himself feeling better than before. After eating half the Oreos, he dejectedly folded the bag and stashed it into his jean's pockets. He wanted more, but in jail they probably didn't have cookies so he thought maybe he could sneak those in.

With no cookies to distract himself anymore, Marty turned to look around the office, first noticing a sign with the LAPD Values written on bright blue letters. On top of the desk, he could see a framed photograph. The cop dressed in shorts and t-shirt, hugging a pregnant woman from behind, a little blonde girl holding her mommy's dress and his daddy's hand. On another wall, the man's university diploma, which to the teenager's surprise was a law degree. How did he end up a cop? He wordlessly questioned. Turning to his imagination as an escape, he then began to speculate about the cop's story. The man seemed kind. He was probably a good cop. Maybe a good father. For Marty's still childish mind, the man was like a superhero. He could probably do it all.

An angry shout, startled the teenager as he came back to the present and away from his daydreamed stories. For the first time he noticed the door had been left partially opened.

He stole a car. I don't care it is Halloween night! Came another angry remark in the same voice as before.

They just took it for a ride. They had no bad intentions. They weren't running or keeping the car. Answered the cop. He already recognized his voice.

So can anyone now steal something just because they need to momentarily use it? We don't judge intentions, we judge actions!

…Don't make an example of these boys. They're not criminals. Came a new well-spoken voice. Maybe the cop's lawyer friend, Marty thought as the man seemed to be on his side.

Fighting the urge to stand up, walk to the other room, and fight for himself, Marty decided for self-preservation and remained in his chair. His head swaying towards the door as his curiosity continued to get the better of him.

Criminals? The younger boy already has a record! If not criminal, what do you call that? Marty's hands began to shake again. His past was being brought to the surface. The past he wanted to forget and one they had promised was forever sealed.

He lost his father recently. He's just a boy acting out. He will mature.

Boy acting out? He's not a kid anymore. And he didn't lose his father… He's in jail! We can't excuse his behavior. Or he will become just like said father!

Eyes feeling with tears, Marty's biggest fear right in front of his face. Turning out like Gordon.

Come on, man. He did lose his father five years ago. He was… Words became inaudible after that, the man clearly whispering, and Marty smart enough to know what was being shared. His life story and that thanksgiving night.

Silence then followed and Marty's nerves only increased. Brushing the unshed tears away, he tried to trust the cop was really a kind man, able to recognize he was not a bad boy, and that his lawyer friend would be able to help.

Juvie is where he belongs! He committed a felony. If we keep forgiving behaviors like this, our city will descend into chaos. Another shout, and the conversation turning heated again.

This is his first offense, the car wasn't damaged. They just had the bad luck to choose a car with a bad engine. It breaking down wasn't their fault. We also didn't find any trace of alcohol or drugs. And we will do a test to confirm. There was no violent crime or vandalism committed. This is no more than a misdemeanor. Community service is a more reasonable punishment. The lawyer's knowledge amazed the boy, as he dreamed of someday being able to help someone the same way this man was trying to help him now. Even though he didn't even personally know him.

I will pay whatever damage they caused. I don't have much. But I can ask for an advance on my paycheck. I can also get another job. Please, my boy is all I have left. The new voice that had just joined the conversation being Marty's undoing. Roberta's desperate appeal bringing a rush of tears to his eyes as he had just failed the person that mattered most. Head on his hands, Marty began to sob as he hated nothing more than being a disappointment to his mother.

Marty blocked the conversation after that, the buzzing in his ears silencing the voices and his sniffles becoming the only audible thing in the room. In between his sobs, head on the desk and arms hugging himself, Marty unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

-x-x-x-

A half hour later, the cop that had arrested him got inside the room. Not realizing at first that the boy was sleeping he started calling his name, and after getting no response, he carefully moved to shake him awake. The unsuspecting cop not ready for the teenager's reaction.

Jumping out of the chair, Marty landed on the floor, and he quickly backed away, until his back hit the back wall. "Please, don't hurt me." He pleaded, hands having naturally moved to protect his face. "Please." He repeated. Eyes closed making the recently woken up boy not realize he was still in the station with the cop, and not back in his room with his father.

"Calm down, Marty. No one will hurt you. It's me, you're okay… you're okay." The man whispered, not wanting to scare the boy any further. "You're okay, Marty."

Lowering his arms again, Marty opened his eyes and slowly the world began to materialize around him. The chair, desk and rest of the office being noticeable again, along with the nervous looking officer that stood in front of him. "I'm sorry." Marty apologized sheepishly, not able to hide his embarrassment.

"No reason to be ashamed, Marty." The man now spoke knowingly. "I just came to get you, but you were sleeping and I accidentally scared you." He continued, choosing to blame himself and downplay the situation. "Your mother is waiting for you."

"I will be quick to say goodbye." Marty said sadly, as he shakily lifted himself from the ground. A hand moving to wipe the trace of tears from his face.

"Goodbye? You're going home with your mother, Marty. The only one you need to say goodbye is me. I don't expect to see you here ever again… Unless you ever decide to become a cop. You would be a good one." He partially joked. But a true sentiment behind his words. "I know what happened five years ago, Marty." Seeing the teenager move backwards, he lifted his hands in a placating gesture and continued speaking quickly before he fully lost the boy's attention. "What you did required a lot of courage, and knowledge of right and wrong. I know you will get far, Marty. Good luck." He finished as quickly, and extended his hand to the boy.

Marty's thoughts were all over the place. Not used to speaking with anyone that had knowledge of his personal story, and not sure how to respond to that. Seeing no other option, he moved his arm to shake the man's hand and was surprised to feel a cardboard on his palm. Turning it around, he saw the card and began to read.

Los Angeles Police Department

Officer Paul Gentry

West Valley LAPD Station

19020 Vanowen St, Reseda, CA 91335

"Just call me if you ever need anything." Officer Gentry said with a kind smile on his face. "Everything is solved here today, it pays to have old friends from law school and with great knowledge of California's penal code." He laughed. "Years after college, I met him on a call once. His son got caught on something, and I was able to help. So he was glad to assist today."

"Thank you." Marty was grateful, but a hint of embarrassment was still present on his tone. "I appreciate it."

Paul nodded and then signaled to the open door, Roberta visible on a bench at the end of the hall. "Your mother is outside in the hall, don't keep her waiting any longer. She seems like a good one."

Marty smiled, proud of the way the officer had spoken of his mama. Then he shook the man's hand one more time and after thanking him, began to walk outside the room.

"If you still want to go to Malibu someday, you can also give me a call."

Words barely audible now, Marty decided not to turn back around and just continued towards his mother. Roberta getting up and walking towards the front door without saying a single word.

"I'm sorry." Marty eventually said once they had gotten to the car and had started their drive home.

"We will talk tomorrow, Martin. I'm sure you learned enough lessons for one afternoon. You start community service next week. Soup kitchen. No complains about it." Roberta explained.

"Okay, mama. Love you."

The sight of her baby boy on a police station was still fresh on her mind, and the image mixing with that of her husband. Shaking her head, Roberta silently reminded herself that Martin was nothing like his father. And he would never be for as long as she continued to be the supportive parent Gordon never could be. Her love needed to be enough to vanquish whatever inherent darkness Martin had gotten from that man. So resisting the urge to scream and berate him for his foolish behavior, she just moved one hand to his unruly hair and pulled his head towards her body. Kissing his blonde locks without ever taking her eyes off the road. "I love you too, Martin."

-x-x-x-

In the upcoming weeks, Marty Deeks began to volunteer at the soup kitchen. An activity that started as part of his penalty for what had happened that Halloween night, but one that continued for many years to come. He didn't see Ray for a few weeks, the older boy, who already had a more complicated criminal record, having been sentenced to three months in juvie. When the boys had seen each other again, their friendship was still intact and they continued to be the brothers life hadn't given each other, until fate decided to push them in much different directions. But their paths destined to cross again someday.

In the soup kitchen, Marty met a world different to his, and his eyes fully began to open to the previously unnoticed, different realities around him. His desire to be a hero only growing after that night. But the doubt that he could truly be one remaining for much longer.

Three months later, Marty finally visited Malibu. With Paul and his family. It was a day he always remembered.

At the time unbeknown to the teenage boy, one day he would follow in Paul's footsteps and become a lawyer and then a Los Angeles Police detective. His last name, Gentry, never forgotten, and one that someday would add light to a dark alias that had also started on that night. Max would always remain a part of Marty, but Gentry would always be next to it ready to remind him of what side of the law he truly stood at.

After the experience lived on Thanksgiving night, 1991, on that Halloween night, 1996, Marty Deeks learned for the first time what it meant to stand on the right side of justice.