Blye.
The first time in a LONG time that I'm writing again, and the first time for this fandom. This is an angst fic, through and through, with hints of Densi romance (in flashbacks though). WARNING: There is character death. Nothing graphic, but it's there. Be warned.
This fic was inspired by so many fics that I've read, it's impossible to name (or remember the names of) them all.
Disclaimer: NCIS: Los Angeles and none of its characters or anything else remotely associated with it, belongs to me. I'm purely borrowing.
The click of her heels, that decisive, unfaltering walk, and it's as if everything and everyone in the OSP pauses. The young analyst nervously rambles off the information, and her focused, mismatched eyes dart across the screen as she takes in every detail; then barks an order, and she and her team descends on Los Angeles, to solve another crime.
Kensi Blye. Operations Manager of the Office of Special Projects at NCIS.
A living legend.
The younger, fresher newbies still gape when the more seasoned veterans re-tell the stories at the water cooler; of her, and the legendary G Callen, and Sam Hanna, and some LAPD detective they can never remember the name of. Lead by the fearsome and fabled Henrietta Lange; a team that hasn't been equaled since its end all those years ago, not even by hers, though they're certainly good enough to become legends in their own rights one day, they say.
Then they hush when they see her walking down the hallway. Beautiful as ever, only the faintest of frown lies suggesting that years have past, and intimidating as ever. There are a fair share of rumors about over-eager newbies getting kneed in the groin and swiftly transferred as well...
No one messes with Kensi Blye.
The legend, the martyr, the magnificent.
X
"Boss, we're heading out now."
Her typing fingers still and she looks up, and sees the blonde-mopped head of one of her Senior Agents popping in through her office door. "You sure you don't want to join us?"
"No thanks. Still got a boatload of paperwork to get done. Thanks anyway. You guys go have fun - but not too much! Bright and early tomorrow."
"Yes Boss." He says and flashes a charming smiles; something in the pit of her stomach churns. He reminds her so much of another blonde that walked these halls, a long, long time ago.
Then they're gone, and she's all alone with her paperwork, and the hours pass like seconds.
Soon, it's much later than she promised herself she'd be home tonight. The building is completely silent and peaceful - a welcome rarity - and the only light that illuminates her face is the artificial glow of her computer screen.
For a moment, her fingers still, and her two-tone eyes dart from side to side. Knowing she's truly alone, she pulls out a key from her jean pocket and unlocks her right-hand drawer. She scratches around for a bit, and unearths her target; a delicious yellow-wrapped treat.
She savors the Twinkie, a lifelong weakness that stayed, and a rare smile spreads over her face. It's brief though; as she moves to throw the wrapper back into the drawer, her eye catches the photo frame that's lying flat inside.
The picture was taken at a restaurant, a celebration of some or other important case being closed. For her life she can never remember which one it was. But she does remember it was one of the few times when every member of the team - including Hetty, Nell and Eric - were present and accounted for. All sitting around the table, with Hetty at the head. She also remembers being teased to death by Callen and Sam the week after, when the photo arrived and Nell handed each member their copy. It might have been about how Deeks' arm was extended around her shoulder, or the way she leaned into his chest, smiling brightly. She and Deeks protested vervently in the bullpen; when Sam and Callen turned their backs however, they shared a private, secretive smile.
X
"Hey partner! Wait up!" She slowed her walk enough to let him catch up with her, turning to see his smiling face illuminated by only the street lights in the dark parking lot.
"What, walking me to my car?"
"Thought it would be the chivalrous thing to do." He walks beside her, pulling his jacket tighter to fend off the chilly night air.
She scoffs. "Chivalry? You?"
"What? I'm totally chivalrous."
She just shakes her head, and doesn't respond. They walk the last few meters in silence. and she tries her absolute best to ignore the comforting heat radiating from his body, so close to hers. Their "thing", the unspoken electricity that sparks between them and has from the very first day, is getting harder and harder to ignore. At first she thought (and truly believed) it was nothing more than a physical attraction. Though blonde-haired surfer boys wasn't exactly her type, there was no arguing that Marty Deeks was a good-looking guy... But these days it was different. These days, after all they've been through - after he got shot, after he got "fired", after she went rogue to find her father's killer - after being through all of that together, step by step, things have taken a major turn away from lust and towards something much more dangerous.
"Here we are." He says, and she notices they've reached her car. "I'm glad we came out tonight. It was fun."
"Yeah." She agrees. "It was. Strange to see Hetty downing tequila shots, but... definitely fun." His smile is infectious, and she the corners of her mouth tug up. "So where's your car?"
He shrugs. "Took a cab."
She rolls her eyes. "Ah, I get it. Your 'chivalry' was really just trying to mooch a ride off me. Lucky thing I'm this awesome, otherwise I'd make you sit in the cold and wait for a cab."
He chuckles and reaches for the door handle of her passenger side; he reaches around her, his arm circling her, and before either of them knew what was happening, their bodies and faces were close. Really close.
She could feel his warm breath fan across her face. She could almost feel the prickle of his scruff against her skin. His eyes are wide and so, so blue, she feels she could quite literally drown in them. They don't inch closer intentionally; only when she feels his lips brush against hers is she broken from the trance, and sent right into an overwhelming whirlpool of emotion she hasn't quite experienced before.
Marty Deeks is kissing her.
Holy shit, Marty Deeks is kissing her.
X
"Miss Blye." Hetty's clear and unexpected voice makes her jump just a bit. She turns and sees the petite Operation Manager's eyes glint with amusement. "May I see you in my office please?"
Kensi nods, and follows her. She turns her head and catches Deeks' nervous blue eyes for a moment.
Her head is screaming: She knows, she knows, she knows... It's Hetty, she knows EVERYTHING.
"Am I in trouble?" Kensi asks when she sits, momentarily remembering that the man occupying her thoughts, her partner, used those exact same words in this office, not too long ago.
"Of course not. I just wanted to discuss a little matter with you, something I'd rather not bring up in the bullpen with Mister Callen and Mister Hanna around."
"What is it?"
Hetty's eyes flash towards the door, where Deeks can be seen making small talk in the hallway with Nell.
"It's come to my attention that you and Mister Deeks have started a romantic relationship."
Kensi's mouth opens, but no words come out. Before she can co-ordinate her brain enough to try again, Hetty interrupts her.
"Don't fret, Miss Blye. Since Mister Deeks is still LAPD, you aren't technically breaking any rules. It seems you've found yourselves a loophole." She says with a little smile. "I just called you in to offer my sincere congratulations. And say it's about time."
Relief washes over her like a sea and a smile spreads over her face.
"Thank you, Hetty."
"Don't thank me yet. Though I'm very happy for you, I do feel that it is my duty to issue a fair warning: Yours and Mister Deeks' partnership. It's the kind of partnership that only comes once in a lifetime. Trust me. And after this, no matter how it ends... It will never be the same. If the two of you break up, no matter how cleanly and maturely, things will never be the way they were again."
Hetty pauses.
Kensi feels that old guilt and worry creep up on her again; all the reasons she's debated against their "thing", flooding back to hit her full force in the gut.
"However, a relationship built on the kind of trust and mutual respect that you and Mister Deeks have for one another... That's once in a lifetime too. And, if properly cared for, will surely last a lifetime."
"So... what you're telling me is... don't mess it up?"
Hetty smiles. "Exactly."
X
He slams the door loudly when he enters, and the window frames shake from the impact.
"I can't believe you!"
"You can't believe ME? I can't believe YOU! I told you I had him!"
"Do you even realize how close you came to dying today!"
"If you did as I said and ran around and cut him off, I'd have been perfectly fine."
"Perfectly-? You were running blind, UNARMED, on an arched ROOF, Kensi! If I hadn't run after you and caught you, you'd have fallen to your death!"
"If you'd just ran AROUND, you'd have caught him and I wouldn't have stumbled! But NO, Detective Deeks has to go and play the hero, rescue his damsel in distress. You know what, Marty? I'm not a damsel in distress! I'm not a porcelain doll that can break if you look at me funny! I'm a FEDERAL AGENT, and I'm perfectly capable of doing me job. I've been capable of doing my job long before you arrived, and-"
"I'm not saying you're incapable, I'm saying you're not BULLETPROOF. I'm saying you're freaking HUMAN. If you just realized that, maybe I'd have to stop running after you and saving your suicidal ass every time you do something stupid like run off a roof!"
"Stupid, am I?"
"You know what, Kensi, yes. Doing something reckless and stupid like that... there's no better word."
"I'M the stupid one! At least I'm not simple enough to fall for every blonde-haired big-boobed suspects little games."
"What are you implying."
"Nothing. It's just when you were interviewing that witness, you sure weren't looking at her criminal record. 'Oh, Detective Deeks, you sure are strong and impressive, the way you tackled down that awful, awful man.' Please!"
"You know what? I'm tired of this argument."
"You know what? ME TOO!" She slammed the door, and didn't look back.
X
A warm tear slid down Kensi's cheek, and she furiously wiped it away. The memories were still painful, even after all these years. Those were the last things she said to him, and they were so cruel. And false. Her temper might've flared away that day, but she knew deep in her heart, even then, she was wrong. In fact she had decided that night, while crying silently in her empty, cold bed, that she'd do the unthinkable and apologize the next day.
The next day, Hetty came with the news that the LAPD had called him in the previous night for an important undercover project they needed him for. With one glace across her face, Hetty's wise eyes seemed to know exactly what happened between them the night previous.
She had been relieved that day; another day or two to avoid apologizing, her least favorite thing ever, and to think through what she might say. You know, do this thing right.
She never got the chance.
Hetty got the call two days into the op, in the middle of the working day. When her eyes darted towards her, Kensi got a familiar stab in the pit of her stomach. Deeks had been shot. Not just anywhere; in the neck, straight into his jugular vein, the work of a trained and professional sniper who aimed perfectly above his Kevlar-vest.
When she arrived at the hospital, she was met by doctors with grave faces.
Sam and Callen and the rest of them made an effort to catch the guy who was responsible; the head of operations was found, but shot to death in the inevitable gunfight before the identity of the sniper, his killer, was revealed. With no way to track him down, he got off Scott free. Perhaps that's what hurt the most.
That, of course, and hearing about him in the water cooler gossip, unnamed and seemingly unimportant. She, Callen and Sam had gone on to achieve in their fields; their names were famous here, they were respected and revered. Even Eric and Nell were well-known among the analysts and agents. He had never gotten to that point; he had never become an agent, even though she knew from their late-night talks that he had wanted to, one day. So he was destined to forever stay 'that LAPD-guy that was with them', or 'the blonde guy on the picture they all used to keep', or some other meaningless equivalent. They;d never know of the great things he did; how many times he saved the great Kensi Blye's life. How many times he could make the cold, intimidating woman smile like a schoolgirl.
Sometimes when she hears someone talk about one of their missions, adding their own details and getting most of it wrong, she'd remember a joke he'd told her then. She'd remember how focused his blue eyes got in the heat of a gunfight; how many times he'd save her, have her back.
Or, most painful of all, she'd remember the soft look in his eyes when she lay in his arms at night and talk about whatever. Like he could look at her like that forever, and well intended to. When he whispered that one day he and she would get themselves a little house by the beach and, who knows, he said with a shrug, maybe even raise a kid or two. With his blonde hair and charm, and her gorgeous eyes and temper. She had giggled at his absurdity then.
Now, feeling the years weigh on her shoulders heavier than she'd ever let on, feeling more lonely than she ever thought possible, she wishes she could have all of it back.
With a final shaky breath, she closes the screen of her laptop and locks the drawer. Wiping at her wet cheeks, she gets up, gets her coat and walks out of her office, towards what will surely be another cold and lonely night in her apartment.
The decisive click of her heels, doesn't falter though.
Woah, pretty angsty. Hope it was worth the read. Feedback is always appreciated.
Much love,
Zanny