A/n Thanks Maddie (NCISLAlover24) for the proof! Title may change. Continue?
XOXO-
Cierra

"I don't know, Deeks."

They'd been at it with the same conversation for the past two months. Roughly sixty one days ago had been their six month wedding anniversary, and Deeks had brought it up one night, obviously trying to sound nonchalant. He'd curled up to her, his toes burrowing into the back of her knee, eyes locked on the television screen when he said with that cute little drawl of his, "So... kids."

And here they are.

He's once again making fun of her housekeeping skills, telling her that crumbling clothes into balls and playing basketball using their drawers as the hoops isn't considered folding clothes.

"I mean, really, how hard is it to neatly fold up a shirt and place it in a dresser?"

"Hard," she replies coolly, climbing out of the car. They've come to question a marine about his involvement with some coke dealers, just another drug bust.

"Fern, Sweetie..."

"Back off, Shaggy. We're on the job. No time for domestication." She smiles then, her dark eyes narrowing mischievously as she leans closer to him and whispers into his ear, "But if this is your idea of trying to get me into a maid costume... I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, uncalled for," he says with a smirk, mouth going dry at the mere prospect of what she'd suggested. Oh, a maid costume? Now that sounded good...

Bang. Bang.

Without another moment's hesitation they both race the rest of the way up the rather long driveway, Kensi kicking the door open without a moment to lose. In the middle of the floor lays a broad man bleeding out, a tipped over beer bottle next to him. The alcohol and the blood swirl together, and Kensi practically skids across the hardwood and starts applying pressure to his wounds, yelling, "Deeks, they couldn't have gotten far. Go."

He knows she's referring to the attackers, and he takes off without another second to lose. It's obvious to Kensi that the former marine isn't going to make it, but she continues applying pressure to the wounds anyways. Surprisingly, unexpectedly, the man reaches for one of her hands, and when he squeezes slightly she grasps back. How he manages to gasp out his dying words she may never know, but milliseconds before his eyes go blank he levels gaze with hers. "Protect them."

Confused and unnerved she untangles his hand from hers, lying it against his heart. It's quiet for a beat, and then Kensi hears it.

A cry.

Ever since that night cuddled up together on the couch, he wouldn't drop it. Every three or so days he brought it up again in that annoyingly adorable persistent tone of his, and she knew that this was something he really wanted. As far as she went, however...

"I just don't know."

His bottom lip sticks out a bit and forms a pout, his blue eyes twinkling and wide. "Please? Pretty please?"

Despite herself, she laughs. "You seriously think you can get me with that? I practically invented it." But her smile is wiped off of her face when he doesn't stop staring at her as if he just lost his favorite novelty, like a kid who'd just had a hard earned lolly pop stolen right out of his hands. Man, that look. It makes her want to cry. "Deeks..."

Of course, when he sees how bent out of shape she's getting, he smiles widely, impishly. For a second she can almost imagine him as a child, blond curls splaying every which way, grin constant. And then she's seeing the same little boy with his hair a shade darker but just as unruly and his cheek bones slightly higher and his smirk missing a tooth.

"You're an ass," she shoots, crossing her arms over her chest. They're sitting on opposite ends of the couch but facing each other, her feet propped up on the cushions. It all reminds her of another time that they'd talked about having little mutant ninja assassins together, but this conversation is completely different. This time, there's a very real possibility that tiny killers could be in their future. In their near future.

"I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he replies, replacing his heartbreaking gaze with an easy grin, and almost like he can't stand not having just a minuscule bit of physical contact with her he scoots closer to her, arms outstretched. It's enough to make her heart flip. His constant need to touch her, it's new for her. Maybe two and a half years ago she wouldn't have liked the clinginess. Now, she thrives on it.

She wipes her red hands against her white top absently, trying to remove the dark liquid from her fingers. The attempt is moot, of course, but she didn't like having somebody's blood on her hands. Literally.

Picking up her pace a little when she hears pounding on what sounds like a door or a wall down the hallway, she finally arrives, hesitating only a second before unlocking the door. And as soon as she does, she's met by the site of a distraught three year old who immediately tries to dart past her towards where she must have heard the gunshots.

The blood on her shirt reminds her of the gruesome scene she just witnessed, one that she has no intentions of letting an innocent child see. So she races after the girl, desperate to get to her before she gets to the body. As soon as she catches up to the toddler she sweeps her into her arms, trying to keep her grip as the kid kicks and fights and wails, attempting to escape Kensi's grasp.

"Daddy," she cries, tears streaming down her face. "I want daddy."

And staring down at this chaste child, so pure, so obviously in need of her father, Kensi's heart shatters into a million different pieces. She doesn't say anything, only adjusting the toddler so that she is no longer in a bridal style position and liable to squirm her way out of the special agent's arms. And after Kensi reassures her in her gentlest tone that she's a good guy, a super secret agent that will help her out, the fight seems to have left the girl. She allows her cheek to rest against Kensi's collarbone, her tiny arms falling limply against each of her shoulders, the wetness of her tear stained face dampening the side of Kensi's neck.

There's a lump in Kensi's throat, and she's just as uncertain (if not more) of what she's doing now as she was when Javier collapsed against her chest. Javier was a teen, a young man. This is a small, strikingly young, unassuming naïve little girl that had just lost her daddy (well, Kensi assumed the man in the living room was her father).

"What's your name?" Kensi finally manages after some time, voice thick.

"Gracie," she mumbles in response, her reply muffled against Kensi's shirt. They're pacing the nursery now, Kensi supporting the girl, Gracie, as she balls her stubby fists into Kensi's top.

"That's a pretty name," Kensi tells her, absently rubbing her back.

"Do you have a name?"

Kensi smiles at the question. "Yep."

"What is it?" the girl askes, oblivious to her amusement at the vagueness of her answer.

"Kensi."

"Kensi," Gracie repeats. Suddenly she points to a crib in the corner of the room. Upon closer inspection she realizes that there's also a mini bed, more suitable for a toddler like the girl she was holding. Which was weird. Why keep an extra crib? Unless... "JT," she says, before allowing her hand to fall back against Kensi's shoulder.

Before she can look in the crib, she hears a voice calling her name. "Kensi! Kensi! Fern, where be you, My Sweet?"

"Uh... back here," Kensi calls down the hallway, and she feels the girl tense.

"Who?" Gracie asks, suddenly very scared.

"My partner," she assures. "He's another super secret agent. A good guy."

"Is he brown headed?"

"Uh..." The question is weird and irrelevant, and it suddenly strikes her that she's never been around a kid this age before. But she'd heard that younger kids went through a stage where they constantly made inquiries about everything, and maybe Gracie had hit that phase. Before she can come up with an answer her husband bursts through the door of the nursery.

"Guess we need a coroner. So much for a simple drug case. Must there always be a dead... hi there."

"Hi," Kensi says, waving dramatically for Gracie's sake, trying to distract her from the word 'dead'.

And, much to Kensi's surprise and delight, the toddler follows suit. She waves (not as enthusiastically. She still is obviously spooked by the sound of the bullets and the absences of her father), but it's really cute and enough to make Deeks grin. "This is Gracie," Kensi tells him in a pointed tone, trying to explain in the undercurrent of her words that they have to play it cool for a minute or two. Deeks discreetly signs her a thumbs up, mouthing, "Got it."

"So, JT?" Kensi asks the little girl, trying to look over her bouncy blond ringlets. Her hair is long and sun bleached, so light it's almost white. It's been pulled into a messy pony tail but more of it's actually out of the elastic than in it. She's tan, her eyes wide, a direct reflection of the ocean. In short, she's quite possibly the most adorable kid Kensi's ever seen in her life.

"He's a baby," she tells her importantly. "Teeny." She demonstrates just how small he is with her thumb and her pointer finger, showing a space of about a millimeter.

"That small, huh?" Deeks asks with a fond smile, smoothing down the girl's wild hair as he passes her. "Let's take a look."

He bends over the crib, and when he reemerges he's holding a sleepy-looking infant. Whoever killed these kids dad must have interrupted nap time. "Wow. You're right. He's tinsy wincy."

"Tiny whiny," Kensi adds, desperate at this point to try to brighten Gracie's mood a little. And she thought that Deeks's puppy dog eyes were bad...

The little girl shrugs and bites at her thumb nail. "Told you so."

"You were so right."

This whole exchange happens while Deeks is substituting the baby's dirty diaper for a clean one like an expert, Kensi watching with her mouth slightly open. "How did you... Where did..."

"Uh-oh. Looks like Kensi's forgotten how to talk," Deeks tells Gracie, frowning slightly as he finishes up with the boy, holding him adeptly in the crook of his elbow.

"Not really, right?" Gracie asks, glancing up at Kensi for the first time. "You're just kidding."

"I don't know, am I?"

"He's just kidding," Kensi assures with a small laugh, picking up on what he was playing at. "See, I can still talk."

She frowns slightly, ghosting the tips of her petite fingers over the special agent's lips. "Where's Daddy?"

Again, Kensi's heart lodges into her throat, successfully stopping any reply that she could've been able to muster. Luckily Deeks plays it off like it's no big deal, all the while casting concerned glances towards his wife.

"Hey, want to see a special hideout? It's super cool. There's a whole lake underneath it and everything. With mermaids. It's awesome. You'd be the first little girl to ever see it ever in the history of ever."

Kensi's eyes widen incredulously, mouthing the word, "Mermaids?!"

Gracie seems to consider it, still wary, but then Deeks adds, "It's cool with your dad. In fact, he wants you to go."

"Really?"

"Really really."

"Can I take a toy?"

"Sure," Kensi allows, setting her down but making sure to stand by the door encase she decided to go looking for her father. "As many as you want, okay? We can pack a bag."

Once she's settled with her back against his chest, her hair tickling his nose, he speaks. His words are closer to her ear now, and the talk seems suddenly much more intimate. Like it wasn't before, she thinks sarcastically, tempted to roll her eyes at her own inner dialogue. The closeness between them now is almost overwhelming, but it's nothing new. She's grown to accept the fact that he is the only person she would ever even consider let get remotely as close as he was to her.

"What about Javier?"

"That was... different."

"How so?"

"It was just different," she snaps, frustrated that she can't even defend her weak excuse for a reply.

She knows Deeks could easily call her out on her bullshit, but he doesn't. Instead, for once, miraculously, he backs off. If only a few centimeters. "Okay, okay. Don't get your granny panties in a wad."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly with a drawn out exhale. "The truth is I don't know."

"You don't know a lot, do you?"

"Not about this," she admits quietly, and it's the truth. She can empty a magazine into a target's crotch with one eye closed. She can face the grim reaper like he's an old friend without so much as a shiver, disarm a bomb with a bobby pin. Hell, she's hot wired a plane just because. But changing diapers? Burping? Rocking back to sleep at three o'clock in the morning? Kissing boo boos? Tickling half to death? Baby clothes? Toothless grins? Family movie nights? The pattering of little feet echoing through the hallways? Being called 'Mommy'? Strollers and rattles and teddy bears and big blue eyes and unruly dark curls and...

"Hello? Earth to Kensi?"

"Huh?"

"Want to tell me what was going on in there?"

"I was... just thinking."

"About?"

"Last nights America's Next Top Model, you dummy. What do you think I was thinking about?"

"No need to be so snappy," he chides, but he's kidding and she knows it, his big smile giving it away. "Anyways, as I was saying before you started thinking about Top Model, we would figure it out. You know we would. We are partners. Partner," he says, tickling her side slightly with the last word. She squirms and laughs, jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow. Not hard, not hard at all. She'll deny it if anyone calls her out on it, but she definitely has a soft spot for her husband. Softer than soft. Basically mush.

She's pathetic.

If only for him.

It's nearing nine thirty at night, and now she sits with a two month old boy in her lap named Johnathan Thomas, JT for short. He's just as precious as his sister even though they're complete opposites, personality wise and looks wise. His head's full of straight and soft brown hair, eyes big and dark. His facial features are so flawless he could easily be in a Gerber baby commercial. Gracie was more quiet and reserved whereas JT always had to be cooing or gurgling happily, and even when he cried he seemed to be in a good mood. And dammit, they could easily be mistaken for her and Deeks's kids if they were to go out in public.

Not helping her whole anti-baby strike.

Oh, and Deeks seems so happy with Grace (they'd discovered that Gracie was a nickname after looking at her files) and JT. So happy. Even if it's simply bouncing Gracie on his knee, or feeding JT a bottle. His eyes are alight with a sparkle she'd never seen before, his actions even more carefree than usual.

She watches from her spot at the other side of the boat shed as he colored with a tired Grace, and his compliments on her drawings echo throughout the big and empty room. "Woah, are you sure you're not a super secret artist and your just pretending to be a three year old? That is the awesomest thing I've ever seen in my life. It's a... Oh, that's a wave? No way! The ocean is the best place in the world. It really is. You're giving it to me?! No. Way. This is the best day ever! How can I ever repay you? How... can I... ever repay... you?" His rambles are punctured with her much quieter replies occasionally until her laughter interrupts his last question, and it's obvious that he's tickling her just as he'd done Kensi the night before.

"Marty!" she exclaims, girlish laughter hitching. "Sto-o-o-op, you poop head!"

"Oh my gosh. She just called me a poop head. Kensi, she just called me a poop head!"

And that, of course, makes Kensi laugh, and Gracie was already chortling nearly manically, blue crayon still in hand. Deeks pretends to be offended (faux hurt, like, the fauxest of the faux), which makes Grace laugh even louder, which makes Kensi feel inexplicably happy, which makes her laugh once again in turn, which makes JT grin up at her lazily, obviously copying her facial expression. And his face, his gummy grin, his too adorable nose scrunched up with happiness, it does her in.

This feeling... these strange maternal instincts... it's different. It confuses her and terrifies her because she likes it. Not just likes, she loves it. It's quite possibly one of the best things she's ever experienced.

When Hetty walks in through the doors of the boat shed, Deeks announced over Grace's laughter accusingly, "She called me a poop head!"

Hetty laughs slightly, shaking her head. "Sorry to break up the party, but I do believe it's almost bedtime. Are you sleepy, Gracie?"

"Uh-uh," the little girl says defiantly, eyes drooping all the same. And she reminds Kensi so much of herself that it nearly knocks her off balance.

"Well, still. We have to go to bed because the mermaids don't like it when we're in here too late. G and Sam are going to watch you and your brother for a bit, okay? Just a few minutes while I talk to Poop Head and Kensi."

Kensi can't hide her smile, her real, genuine smile, reluctantly handing the baby over to G. "Remember, G. Baby. Handle with care."

"This is a baby?" G asks stupidly, holding out JT in front of him. "Naw. I thought it was an infant shaped flounder."

"G, I think it's time we set you up with a psychiatrist. Your sarcasm is starting to make me think you're delusional."

Callen rolled his eyes. "I can handle a baby. Go talk to Hetty."

"Drop him and die."

"Down, mama bear."

"Not my kid."

"Sure acting like he is."

She opens her mouth as if to reply before closing it again, realizing that she couldn't say anything to that. Instead she swallowed and waved bye animatedly to Grace, who was currently hugging Deeks's leg and refusing to let go.

"You'll be back, right, Marty?"

"Pinky promise," he swears, completely serious.

"And I can see daddy tomorrow, right?"

He doesn't answer that question, Sam swooping in and saving him he notices that Deeks doesn't know what to say. He pries her away from Deeks's leg and spins her around, running with her around ops. The last thing Deeks hears before they go into the interrogation room for privacy is her laughter resonating through the small building, giving the rustic and old structure a nice splash of life that contrasted against the building violently. And it was inexplicably nice. So nice.

As soon as he's closed the door, Kensi's pacing back and forth, running her fingers through her dark hair.

"What do we tell her?" she asks, anxious and wired and dreading the inevitable. Deeks catches both of her wrists in one of his large hands, using the other to guide her chin so that she's forced to look at him in the eyes.

"Hey, it's going to be okay, Kensi," he tells her, even though there's no way he can be sure of that. No way either of them can be sure of that.

And even though she isn't quite sure she believes him, she nods. He releases her wrists but intertwines one of their hands together, and Hetty doesn't even call them out of their public display of affection. Deeks looks over towards the smaller woman, but Kensi takes control of the situation before he can. "What do we do, Hetty? What do we say?"

"This John Dresser character - JT and Grace's father - he was injured in Afghanistan and had to stop working. The mother of Grace died six months after having her but they were already divorced and he got custody afterwards. Another half a year later he remarried to a woman named Susanne and had JT."

"So there's a mother they can be returned to?" Kensi asks hopefully, the idea of the two sweet children in the neighboring room being handed over to foster care after everything was said and done seemingly inconceivable.

Hetty frowned slightly, and Kensi knew that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. "This Susanne... she's certifiably bi-polar. Around the time the two met, four months before the wedding, John started investing in alcohol, Valium, and a slew of other drugs. She's been convicted of domestic abuse in her former relationship, in which she also had two kids that got taken away by social services when teachers noticed cigarette burns and bruises on them. In short, Susanne is not a suitable mother."

Both Kensi and Deeks feel light headed as they take in all that these children had been through at the young ages of three and two months. Grace's step mom and JT's biological mom was unsuitable, Grace's biological mother was dead, and now their father was dead as Gracie's mother...

"We can worry about their future housing arrangements later, but for now I'd like you two to return to your house and pack a bag with enough clothes for a month. I'll give you a card and you can pick up the children's necessities on the way."

"I don't understand..."

"Mr. Dresser owed money to the wrong cocaine dealers. The cartel he's associated with is much bigger than he could have imagined, and he owed them enough to pay for a small house. This group... they are known for their reputation of taking out everybody associated with the person that did them wrong. Everybody. I'm positive they wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through a three year old's head and an infant's if it came to that."

Kensi's pulse hammered at the unwelcomed visual of a goofy baby's grin and shining dark eyes replaced with glassy lifeless orbs and a permanent frown, a bullet hole between his fine eyebrows. Deeks must be thinking the same thing, maybe about Gracie. It's enough to make him pull her close, as much for her comfort as for his.

"It goes without saying that they are the assets of this case. You guard them with your life, understood?"

The agents look at each other before directing their attention back at Hetty, nodding firmly. Deeks's voice is rock hard when he grits out, "Understood."

"Good. I'll text you directions to the safe house and other information later. Go and pack your bags. There's a long ride ahead for you two."

They're both well aware that she doesn't just mean the distance of the drive to the safe house.

"So, what do you say?" he asks after a minute, and it kills her how hopeful he seems.

"No."

"Kensi."

He sounds so disappointed, so sad. So sad. It's enough to make her backtrack. She turns slightly in his arms, one hand finding his stubble. He's not even looking at her.

"Give me... a month, okay? Just let me think about it a little more. I'll give you an answer then."

"So it's still up in the air?" he asks, not looking half as hopeful as he had mere moments before.

"Yeah." She forces a smile, and he forces one back.

She wants to give him a child. She really does. But she's just not mother material, nor does she think she'll ever be. Why would she want to plague a baby with the mess of a woman that she is?

One month. One month.

One month to make the biggest decision of her life.