I have no idea why I keep writing about snow.
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Her name is Brooke and she doesn't look anything like Kensi.
She's blonde and tiny, only reaches his shoulder in her little kitten heels and she likes to laugh and drink and walk around in a bikini.
He doesn't love her, sometimes he thinks he can't love at all, but he has a certain fondness for her some days when he's had to much whiskey and she's wearing her dancing dress.
Brooke loves to dance, something that Kensi doesn't like at all.
He's known the girl for a total of three weeks, but he's standing in the living room with her parents, dodging the accusing eyes of her father and wondering what the hell he's doing here. Brooke's mother looks exactly like her and she shows Deeks pictures of Brooke in high school. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine it's a teenage Kensi: all legs, and mismatched eyes, and a tangled of dark hair. He can see the scars of childhood and the imprint careless people can leave on a girl; and he wishes he could have been there to save her.
But he sees no flaws in the pictures of Brooke's childhood: its easy and filled with bright colors and pink sparkles and happiness Kensi's never known.
"Marty!" Brooke says coyly, her voice drawing Deeks out of his distracted thoughts of his partner. She stands on tiptoes to lean her head on his shoulder. "Do you see, darling? Look at the prom pictures!"
Deeks rubs tired eyes. Maybe Brooke and him will never work because he is so much more broken than her: she has two parents who love her and a little brother who wants to be a fireman, and she is good at playing the piano and she is to nice for him. He has this sudden intense urge to see Kensi. "Brooke, I need to leave. Can I call you later?"
Brooke is hurt and her mother is angry, but Deeks can't find it in his heart to care. He wants to drive to Kensi's house in the glare of the sunshine, and try not to think of Christmas that's coming or the family he no longer has.
Presents and holiday dinners and happy celebrations aren't the same if you're alone. Deeks has been alone too damn long.
But he just drives to his apartment, pretends its his home, and drinks hot chocolate on the back patio and watches the waves.
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Its Christmas time, and it's the same amount of warm it always is but this is the first time she's missed the cold. She's been seeing a man named James in her free time, and she's almost in love with his imposing British accent, the way he sweeps her bangs off her forehead, and the way he likes to open doors for her like a gentlemen.
She wants Deeks but she's tired of coming home to an empty house, the way the hallway is dark and open and aching for someone to yell "honey, I'm home". But no one yells anything, and Kensi hangs up her jacket and keys in silence.
It's the twentieth of December and James gives her sugar cookies and cooks her dinner, and asks her if she loves him. And Kensi thinks of her father, of Jack, of the way she sometimes feels dizzy when she looks at Deeks. She shrugs heavy shoulders and forces herself to meet his eyes. "No."
Maybe she wants him to know what today is, even though she's never told him. But she's harsh in the hopes of being honest.
He leaves in the darkness, her scarf around his neck as if to block out the chill but its never ever cold in California; sad expression and hands shaking away the pain of loneliness no one can escape from.
Kensi's tired of hurting people, but she doesn't know how to end this pattern. But she doesn't love him, so it doesn't hurt.
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Deeks holds hands around a mug hot chocolate because he wants to know what the frost looks like on dawn-chilled grass, wonders at snowflakes on pine trees and what it would feel like to have a holiday with a family.
He wishes he had been brave enough to run away from home all those years and years ago.
There's a knock on the door and when he raises tired eyes out the window, he sees palm trees and sunshine and pours the chocolate drink down the sink in disgust.
Whoever knocked opens the door before he can reach it, and all he can think is KensiKensiKensiKensiKensi before Sam storms into the kitchen, loud and imposing and not the brunette he was imagining.
"Kensi's gone." He says. Voice normal; warm and firm and in-charge, nothing to suggest tragedy in his tone.
If he had been still holding the mug, it would have shattered on the kitchen tile like a broken heart, but instead his hands clench into fists and he follows Sam to the Charger. His heart is beating beating loud and fast and he can hear it over the hum of the tires on highway.
"What do you mean 'missing'?" Deeks says. He finds his voice thirteen minutes from his apartment, when the door of the Mission is fifty paces away and Sam strides are so hurried they leave him behind.
"We've called her six times, went to pick her up and her apartment door was wide open and she was gone. Car still in the driveway."
Deeks doesn't answer, doesn't let himself think of the worst. He's buried to many, he can't think, because he can't be without her.
"We thought she was with you." Sam adds as an afterthought: quiet, almost pondering.
Deeks shakes his head, feels his blonde hair hit his face and his eyes sting. He turns away, faces the waves. He lets himself calm down, takes a deep breath, and thinks like Kensi. He asks: "What's the date?"
"The da-" Sam clears his throat, glances down at his watch. "The twentieth. Why?"
If he was a stronger man, he might let the tears fall at the utter sadness of this. He just shakes his head and turns to face the older man, leans back to meet his eyes. "She's not missing, Sam. She's okay, I can find her."
He looks about to argue, but he takes one look at Deeks face and nods slowly. "I'll let the team know to call off the search. Let us know." Its phrased like an order but sounds like a question, so Deeks agrees.
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She's at the memorial.
It's thirteen miles from her apartment but she's in running shoes and a sports bra and there's no car in sight.
Kensi's sitting cross-legged on the grass, hands hugging knees, face blotchy with earlier tears. Deeks has a moment of guilt because he doesn't know if he's ever loved anyone the way Kensi loved her father. But he shakes it away when he leans down to sling an arm over her shoulders and settle on the grass beside her.
She doesn't say anything and it takes him a moment to realize tears are falling from her brown-and-green eyes and hitting the green grass beneath her. He wonders at what age she had learned to cry so quietly.
When Kensi finally talks, her voice is quiet but he strains to hear her in the wide openness of this grassy field.
She tells of lazy barefoot summers and the boys who broke her heart. She talks of the old car she used to ride and the stories her dad used to tell, and the sound of the Titanic music will haunt his dreams for days after. My heart will go on. Kensi tells of the cold of Camp Lejune in December, and about how she misses the cold un-forgiveness of the snow, and this makes him wonder how he ever doubted they were soul mates. Her voice is tired and oh-so-empty as she tells him of all of the December twentieths since he left her that last time.
Some have been cold and some have been warm, but they have all been empty.
And Deeks holds her tighter because he is afraid she will leave him for colder places and brighter people, and he is terrified that she won't take him with her.
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Its December 20th and there's not a snowflake in sight. He wants to feel the cleansing cold of snow on his face, wants to see his footprints in a white wonderland, wants to taste the flakes on his tongue.
He's tired of the slow feel of the heat around him, the way it blurs his vision and makes him itchy.
He wants to escape. But he doesn't want to leave her.
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Deeks has learned more about Kensi in the last two hours than he has in the last two years. Maybe her words are seeking forgiveness for the person she has become. But if she lets him, he will love her every day for the rest of his life. He is just finding that they are all broken people, and he does not blame her for mistakes that they all make.
He is suddenly more sure of himself than he has ever been, so he looks sideways at her from underneath his to-blonde bangs and meets her mismatched broken empty eyes. (He is grateful for the smile that she gives him).
"You want to get out of here?" Deeks asks, feeling the courage he always wished he had rising up inside him. He feels brave in the glow of the streetlight, in the way he can't see her face in the shadows that have come with the dusk.
But he can hear her soft laughter, can feel her cool breath of her relief on his face, and so he smiles before she can even say anything.
"Yes." She says, laughter breathy like static on a telephone.
"Let's go somewhere with snow." Deeks says.
She takes his hand.
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I wrote this story in twelve minutes so please don't judge my mistakes! Please don't favorite without reviewing. I love to hear your thoughts :)