Hello. I'm writhing over these last few episodes, so I had to do something. It's short, but it's the best I could do with limited time. Most of my time is spent editing the second book in the Human Sacrifice Series. Book One, Human Sacrifice (with its original characters, plot line, etc. Not the version adapted for fanfiction) was released on Amazon this week. Check my profile for the link. I hope everyone takes a look. In the meantime, here are a few words...enjoy!
Deeks can't sleep. It's not that he isn't used to sleeping alone. He is. He's slept alone for a very long time. Still, he lies awake, staring at his open laptop on the nightstand. The photo of himself and Kensi stares back at him, her smiling face making his heart ache. Every memory of her – of them – dances through his mind, from the first to the last. And it's agonizing. He misses her. The worst part – which is pretty damned hard to isolate, since this whole damned situation is the worst part – is that he didn't even get to say goodbye. He was ready to begin the next phase, to step onto that brand new stretch of road and see what the future held. Finding her gone, and hearing that she'd been reassigned, had seemed like a bad joke. And then the punch line, which held all the impact of a physical blow…the word indefinitely.
It felt then, and still feels now, like punishment. Like Hetty – Hetty, of all people, the woman who'd all but given her blessing – had decided to mete out discipline to her insolent, misbehaving children. He had wanted to grab her that day, shake her and demand that she stop this insanity. He had wanted to ask her, point blank, why the hell she had let him believe it was okay to fall for his partner. To ask why she sent him a note with sunshine and gunpowder scrawled on it. Why? Why lead him to believe it was somehow meant to be, and destined, and acceptable. Why, if this was to be the outcome?
He lies awake, feeling the knife twist in his chest. He loves Hetty, has the ultimate respect for the woman. She brought him in to the fold, after all. Saw something in him that no one else ever has, that made him feel worthy and needed and wanted. Integral. Important, for once. She brought Kensi into his life. And then she tore her away. Lying here alone; confused and aching, missing Kensi so much it physically hurts him, the words evil troll queen come to mind. He drags a hand through his hair and blows out a breath.
He doesn't want to go back to the LAPD. He loves this team and loves his place with them. He'd give it all up, though, if it would bring Kensi back home, where he knows she's safe. Where he could at least see her after hours. He'll forfeit their partnership at NCIS if it means she's within reach. He'll gladly trade one kind of partnership for another if that's his only option. His mind rolls back to that night in the restaurant. He had been terrified to say what was on his mind. Afraid she'd deny him, reject him, tell him he's out of his mind. Afraid he would bare his soul to her and be turned away. And what damage would that have done? His heart thumps uncomfortably as he relives that fear and trepidation.
Of course, she had drawn it out of him, finally. The drive back to his place had been silent. Neither had spoken a word. The ground they trod upon was fragile and strange, and strewn with land mines just waiting to go off. Emotional IEDs that could blow them apart, eviscerate them, and change them forever. Words were risky, and for once, he had none. They were a jumble inside his head, tripping over each other. There was nothing he could say that would convey what he felt or what he feared. So he kept quiet, his pulse pounding, a tremor he fought to hide by gripping the steering wheel, travelling through him.
He'd had no idea how it would play out. With any other woman, he would have been confident, even cocky, and would have jumped into a night of abandon head first, without hesitation. But this wasn't any other woman. And this wasn't just a night of passion and physical release. It was something he hadn't encountered before, not really. This was years in the making. Years of friendship and banter and flirtation. Years of never saying what he meant, because he was too afraid she wouldn't want to hear it. Years of longing for what he thought he'd never have. What he never realized he needed until he met her.
Love changes everything. It isn't just a saying. It's the God's honest truth. It takes on a life of its own. It takes over. It's relentless and brutal and beautiful. And it was so unexpected that it knocked the breath from his lungs and the ground from beneath him as he'd stood staring into her eyes in his living room. His heart had threatened to beat out of his chest, the tremor in his hand surely obvious as he'd reached to touch her. . . .
His fingertips grazed her cheek, and he watched her catch her lower lip between her teeth, uncertainty showing in her dark eyes for only a moment.
"Kens…"
She shook her head, bringing a hand to his face, mirroring his movement from a moment earlier. "Don't…just…" Her lips caught his, her hand slipping into his hair, the other coming to rest between his shoulder blades.
And that was it.
No words were needed. No bravado or bullshit. She saved him from himself and did what he was too afraid to do. She made that terrifying first move, and she did it with a sort of gentle passion that said she had wanted this for as long as he had. It took only the span of a breath for him to respond, to pull her into his arms and open his mouth, to let her soft hands stop his from trembling and grow steady enough to tangle fingers in her hair.
After that first tender kiss, they gravitated to the couch. He sat back against the cushions and looked at her, only inches away. And still, they didn't speak. His fingertips traced her cheekbones, drifting through her hair, brushing it back from her neck. His lips skimmed her soft skin, his eyes closing as he breathed in her light perfume. Gooseflesh rose against his lips as he slowly exhaled against her pulse point, and he felt her breath hitch when he let his tongue trace over the soft staccato beat beneath. As he kissed and gently nipped her neck, her hands found their way into his hair and onto his back. Breathy gasps punctuated the silence, along with the sound of his own breath and the beating of his heart in his ears.
Drawing back, he stared at her, at the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She smiled a bit and caught her lip between her teeth, as if uncertain. And then she enveloped his mouth with hers, kissing him slowly, her lips urging his to part. Every sensation to follow was perfect and exquisite and fought for. Sensations he feared he would never feel, not with Kensi. And maybe, had he been left to his own devices, to stumble over his words and his intentions, he wouldn't have. But Kensi – strong, persistent, insistent Kensi – had grown angry and frustrated and forced his hand earlier. And thank God for that. Exactly as she had that day while on stakeout, she had grown irritated and impatient with his blathering, deflecting bullshit. And fearing he would lose her, his courage had been bolstered just enough to spur him to action. Of course, that day when he kissed her, he'd had no idea what would come next. No plan whatsoever. Impulse had overridden common sense. Tonight, though, he knew once the words were out of his mouth, that it was either do or die. Either Kensi would get up and walk away, or take his hand and lead him to the next level.
And she hadn't walked away.
Hearts beating in sync, hands touching skin in ways they hadn't before, their lips joined, tongues engaged in a sweet. slow dance. There was no rush, no frenzy. Just tender, honest intimacy. Love, though the word was yet to be spoken. Between kisses, she gazed into his eyes, touched his face, slipped her fingers into his hair. She looked at him with a kind of gentle reverence each time they drew apart. He took her hands and studied them, playing with her fingers, stroking each one, feeling the softness of her skin. Hands he had seen do so many things…tapping computer keys, gripping a steering wheel, firing a weapon, clutching a suspect during capture. Hands that left their prints each and every time she'd ever casually touched him. Hands that fit so perfectly in his.
He studied each crease of her knuckles, ghosting over them with the pad of his thumb, allowing himself to relax and open up. "I don't know why it's so hard to say what I mean," he said, thoughtfully, looking up at her. "Maybe it's because…because I'm afraid if I screw it up, it's over and I won't get a second chance. Maybe I'm afraid of ruining things and losing you."
She gazed back at him with a soft smile. "That's not a bad reason at all."
"I don't want to lose you, Kensi. I don't want to ruin what we already have. I'm…I'm terrified right now, and…and I don't know what to do."
She reached out and stroked his cheek, her fingertips drifting over his scruff. "This," she said, kissing him softly. "You do this." She kissed him again, the passion building.
Eyes closed, he whispered between kisses, "This I can do."
"Good," she breathed against his lips, capturing them.
The languid kisses seemed to go on forever. Were they each secretly afraid to take the next step? Was Kensi just as fearful of what it could do to them as he was? Despite the worries, their passion began to soar. His heart raced, not with fear, but with arousal. Need. Desire. Her breath came fast, her kisses harder, deeper, more insistent. Those soft hands roaming everywhere, finally venturing beneath his shirt, short nails scraping the skin of his back, fingers clutching. This was it. This was the crossroads at which neither believed they would ever stand. He pulled back and stared into her eyes questioningly.
Her voice was breathy and desperate. "Yes. I don't care. Yes."
He didn't argue. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue delving inside to taste her, to feel her, to claim her. He ended the kiss and again looked into her smoldering, dark eyes.
"Yes."
He took her hand in his and led her into his bedroom, where clothes were peeled away along with the layers of armor she'd spent years surrounding herself with. He stared reverently at her naked body, and stood silently as she did the same to him. His tentative, trembling fingertips skimmed her shoulders, down her arms, to catch her hands and twine them together before he kissed her and pulled her onto the bed. He hovered over her, gazing into her eyes.
For long minutes, his hands explored her body, eliciting sounds he never imagined her capable of. Whimpers and gasping little breaths that went straight through him, making him need her and want her all the more. And when neither could take another second of separation, he brought them together, Kensi's deep moan echoing in his ear, her fingers clutching at his back, her body arching up, urging him on. Although the pace was slow, it went far too fast, and all too soon they were lying in each other's arms, panting and spent. And still, neither spoke.
He aches, reliving that night, needing her so much that it hurts. The desperation that comes in those few moments, as he stares at her face on that screen and knows there's not one thing he can do to see her, touch her, or even hear her voice, is brutal and eviscerating. His heart hurts, as if it's being squeezed of all its life force. He swallows back the lump forming in his throat, and presses his eyes shut.
Damn you, Hetty. Damn you and your decisions and your telepresent robotic bullshit and your stupid mind games.
He opens his eyes and stares at the screen, at his partner's beautiful, smiling face, and wonders if she hurts as badly on the other side of the world.
Lying alone in her bunk, Kensi stares at the image on her phone. She zooms in, cutting out everyone else but herself and Deeks. Partners then, and so much more now. More than she ever conceived possible. She looks at his deep blue eyes, crinkling at the corners as he smiles. God, how she loves that smile. How she misses it. How she wants to stare up into those eyes.
How long until I see you again? How long until I hear your voice, Deeks?
She rolls over, blowing out a breath. She doesn't understand this. Not any of it. Not the sudden separation, not the reason behind it, not the mission itself. She's not the only person capable of making the shot when the time comes to take out her target. It makes no sense. Is she being punished for her rash behavior? Is Deeks being punished for leading her astray? Is it both of them? For a long time, Hetty had seemed to favor the idea of Kensi no longer being alone. And unless Kensi is losing her mind, or has completely forgotten how to read people, it sure seemed on more than one occasion, that Hetty favored the two of them together. And they were. Now they're apart. At Hetty's hand.
She looks at the photo again, and remembers the night that obviously set all this in motion. The night that compromised them emotionally. The night she would like to repeat over and over for the rest of her life. So much was left unsaid. For all her anger and resentment over his never saying what he means, she'd left it alone that night, never daring to press, never daring to risk her own soul being bared. Now, lying alone, halfway across the planet, she wishes she'd said more. No one will say how long she's here, or if another bogus assignment will be fabricated once it's over. Another assignment designed to keep her and Deeks apart. She's sure that's what this one is.
She wishes she'd said she loves him. She hadn't said it to a man for so, so long. Not in years. She hasn't felt it. She guards her heart, protects her soul, walls herself off so she can't be hurt again. What she went through with Jack was excruciating and out of the blue, and she can't go through it again. Not with anyone. She never planned to fall for Deeks. She never wanted to. But damn him, he made her do it anyway. His playfulness, his sweetness, and yes…his sexiness got to her. She loves him. For better or worse, good idea or bad, she does.
She's alone and feeling lost, tired, frustrated and cold. Tears prick the back of her eyes as she wonders for the hundredth time how upset he was at her sudden, unexpected absence. They hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. It was as if Hetty wanted to make this separation as poignant and painful as possible. To make them as uncertain as possible. She'd had no idea where she was going or why or when she'd be back. The variables still seem endless, like the distance back to L.A. and her best friend, partner, and man she loves with everything. She has no idea how long they'll be apart, or what it might do to them. Staring at the photo on her phone, she shuts it off and tells him goodnight, although he can't possibly hear her. And as she closes her eyes, her only prayer is that they survive the miles.