Footsteps slightly unsteady, Kensi made her way into the public toilets, almost sighing in relief when they were empty. She placed the phone on the edge of the sink, and clutched it to steady herself.

She was panting already, even though it was only a short journey from Megan Steven's house to where she was now. Her sides felt like someone had set a fire on them; the pain coursing through her veins and making her head throb. Each breath she took was torture, and every move she made was agony. It was only the adrenaline left over from the shoot-out and her will that made her go on.

Squeezing her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to dull the pain, she tried to concentrate on each breath she took.

In. Out. In. Out.

"You can do this, Kensi," she thought to herself as she opened her eyes. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and a bit disheveled. "You can do this."

Taking in another breath and turning to lean against the wall, she made a split second decision, dialing the number she knew too well. She didn't care that she would regret it the moment he picked up; she just needed to hear his calm voice assuring her everything was going to be alright.

"This is Deeks," came from the other side of the phone.

She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. The words that were on her lips rolled back down her throat as her partner's voice turned into one of worry.

"Kensi. Kensi, is that you?"

If it were any other time, Kensi would be amazed that Deeks knew it was her calling when she was using someone else's phone. She may even tease him about it, just to cover up the pleased feeling that arose from her gut.

Today was not the time, however.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

No, she wasn't okay. "Come and get me, Deeks," she wanted to tell him. "I don't want to do this anymore."

But she was too stubborn to say it out loud. She had to finish what she started and catch the son-of-a-bitch that killed her father. She had to.

"Kensi, talk to me. Kensi."

She couldn't talk to him yet. Not when she was so close to finding closure on her father's case. Not when she knew he would be there in a heartbeat to pick her up if she asked. "Not yet," she shook her head and ended the call.

Taking a few seconds to collect herself, she scrolled through the contacts of the fake Megan Stevens' phone, stopping at the name she was looking for

"Get yourself together, Blye," she demanded herself.

The guys were counting on her to get back. Hetty was counting on her to get back. Her partner was counting on her to get back.

Deeks.

She made him a promise to return, and she fully intended to keep it, but after knowing that the real Megan Stevens died because of her, she wasn't sure if she could. If she hadn't been digging through her father's files, then his teammates wouldn't have been murdered by Clairmont, and Megan Stevens wouldn't have died that young.

It was all her fault.

She had to end this. Today.

Pressing 'call', she held the phone up to her ear, the tired and vulnerable Kensi gone, and the composed and deadly Special Agent Blye in place.

"I guess you really are Donnie's little girl."

THE END


A/N:

Idiot9: Another story produced in the middle of the night. Urgh, please forgive me if there are any mistakes in it or the characters sound, well, for a lack of a better explaination, out-of-character, cause I'm actually struggling to keep my eyes open...

So, read and review, and criticism is fine too; I need all the help I can get with my writing! Or at least review to award my bravery when I still decide to post this after I realised the great and awesome Fictionista 48 has already written an epic piece on the same scene. My writing is like kindergarten level compared to hers...