A/N: This is something I've been toying with the last two days and although I originally wrote it to amuse myself in the absence of anything useful to write on the Albeit Abnormal series (NCIS fic) - which I have not putted on hiatus; the fourth chapter is just establishing very slowly in my mind and so far, all I've written is crap - I have decided to publish this. It's NCIS: Los Angeles and it's mostly gonna be Deeks/Kensi - DENSI :D It's my first story about 'em, so please review and let me know how I'm doing. It'll be published in small pieces which will make new parts appear faster.
Also, the title is not meant to be discrimination or anything in that likeness; it is in this case used to describe the physical imprisonment of Kensi and her emotional awareness. I do not mean to insult anyone.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its content and characters.
Part 1: News
When he gets the news, he's not sure how to react. The fact that Kensi has been in a car accident is nearly ironic; and with her driving, quite possible. As the scenario unfolds in his mind, the quick smirk evaporates and is immediately replaced by worry, fear, and concern for his partner. The unreasonable angst that is associated with anything involving the possibility of Kensi being, or getting, hurt.
Amazingly, he manages to sweep his keys from their place and storm out the room, remembering nothing of it afterwards, forever lost in memory. How he has recalled which hospital is truly marvelous, because he doesn't remember asking or being told that Kensi had been admitted into the Los Angeles General Hospital ER. He only realizes that Nell is with him by the time he shuts the car door, rushing to the main entrance. She is following behind, trying to soothe his sudden apathy of the world. He has been a cop, he knows how bad car crashes can be. And what he fears the most is the irrationality of it; you cannot protect yourself completely from a car crash. With Kensi's driving, there's room for improvement, but she can't out her opponent in a car, cannot trick the bad guy. It is an un-calculated factor in their lives, a danger they cannot spin to their favor. And the thought terrifies him even though he wants to echo calm, being the visual of pure faith in his partner's ability to survive something like that. But he knows her hazardous ways behind a steering wheel, and it does not comfort him.
Panting, he arrives to the nurses' station, his badge appearing magically from somewhere on his person. He scans the room quickly for anything – maybe Kensi in a corner, huge smirk on her face, shouting, Gotcha!, but he recognizes no-one. Callen, Sam and Hetty are probably on their way, but he has no idea if Kensi, like him, has listed Hetty as their emergency contact. His faith in Kensi has left him baffled and far from omniscient. He knows the little ways of Kensi Blye, extraordinaire, but he has no idea about some of the more person stuff. He has acted on his belief that Kensi was somehow better than getting hurt.
He informs the first scrub-clad nurse he sees that he needs to know where Kensi Blye is. Frustration at her mere incompetence fills him up before he can even notice the pretty ringlets of the blonde twenty-ish nurse. He might have flirted with her if Kensi had been by his side, but nothing but Kensi being okay matters. He thinks he is doing well so far at keeping his worry succumbed. Anger rises, but he subdues it, impatiently waiting for the nurse to type in Kensi's name.
"Kylie" replies, bashing her eyelashes as she does so. "She is being tended by a doctor. She should be done in ten minutes, mr."
He nods dissatisfied, but knows that there's nothing he can do but wait. Despite this, he flashes the nurse his best puppy eyes, having actually practiced with Monty but never been truly tested until now, at Kylie, who, as intended, blushes slightly and sends him the corresponding look of sympathy.
"Would you please tell me when I can see her?" It doesn't sound much like a question, more like a plead. Whatever work, Deeks uses. Nell has caught up with him by now, yet has chosen to remain silent.
"Er," Kylie says, obviously in doubt. She knows it's against regulations to inform anyone of a patient's status if they're not relatives against the patient's wishes. But she also understands how adorable and needy this handsome lad in front of her looks. She seems like an opportunist, but they will never know, because Nell interrupts, steadily flashing an ID.
"This is her friend. I'm Kensi's cousin," the pixie-size intelligence analyst declares, and if any given situation were to happen, Deeks would have been gawk-eyed at Nell's affinity with lying, but for now, he only thinks of Kensi, as much as he tries to assure himself that she is probably fine. Who's ever been able to truly defeat his temperamental partner and get away with it?
Nervousness and mixed frustration takes over and the supposed ten minutes seem like hours passing by. Nell knows better than to soothe him now; he won't truly listen, and the shock of the news are slowly making their way to his conscious mind. He steadies himself, but actually finds himself slightly calmer by the time Nell's eyes catch his.
He wants to confirm that she's okay. But questioning whether or not she is okay seems wrong in the first place. Hell, she is Kensi Blye, and, as much as he tries to talk her out of it, it makes her basically invincible. The thought of it may be that kind of thinking that has ended her up here is dreadful and nauseating. Guilt surfaces where only a frail partnership is located. If he'd only been there to remind her that however offensive an LA citizen's driving can be, she breaks the threshold. Maybe she went into the car, hardheaded as ever, and somehow it seems like it's his fault.
Numbness actually renders him apathetic for about ten seconds. Then the overwhelming blend of frustration, guilt, worry, and fear resurfaces, powerful as ever.
Deeks solemnly wishes that he possessed that ability to empty out every thought and concern the way his teammates seem to. He is aware that nobody truly possesses that talent, but how many times has he not caught Kensi in going into something foolishly naïve. No, not naïve. That is not an adjective that describes her. Just thoughtless. Reckless. Not necessarily careless, just not thinking about how much it'd hurt others if she was injured. And he damns her, wishes to cuss in her name, but he cannot. Instead he blames himself.
Blame is something he does so wonderfully. Nine out of ten times, it is his fault, no matter what people tell him. He knows his responsibilities, even if people think he doesn't. He knows if somebody is trying to sugarcoat it, telling him that he had no way of knowing – that it wasn't his fault... Blame is an emotional lesson he was taught very early in life. Not like young boys trying to put the blame on others; no. He learnt to accept the blame, hate it for what it was, but to stand tall when his parents trashed him. Was it his fault his parents had ended up together? Yeah. His fault that his father couldn't get a job? Yeah.
Slowly, he'd started putting blame unto himself. By the time he was seven, he had been convinced that it was somehow also his fault that his mother couldn't fight against his father out of fear for his health. He had also gotten over that phase, instead seeing how piteous his mother was, showing her sympathy where she'd expected abuse.
Somehow, it was his fault, like it is somehow him to feel guilty for whatever has happened to Kensi. Maybe if he hadn't been so goofy. Maybe if he'd been more professional. His mind is full of maybes and it's tormenting.
A small hand breaks his train of thought, touching his shoulder lightly. He flickers his eyes furiously at Nell, startled to see her. He relaxes physically, then sees the news in her eyes. He is not sure what it is that tells him that Kensi is okay, not able to define what sort of emotion crosses the analyst's eyes, but he understands. Rising, he is led by Kylie, who has sympathetically offered to find them, through the ER to the more quiet patient rooms. Whether or not she is sent as a way to make sure he doesn't see her if she doesn't wish him to is out of the question. The thought doesn't brace Deeks.
The reach the room – 412 – in no time, but it seems like time itself is a concept stopped. The cream-painted walls aren't the least soothing, but perhaps that's because he worries for Kensi. The sterile scent of hospital equipment and medicine reaches his nostrils and before entering, he knows that if Kensi is conscious, she will complain. Maybe not in front of the doctors, but she hates hospitals – don't they all? Hospitals have the tendency to remind them of their mortality; sometimes too painfully a brace with death. Sometimes it is relief that is brought on, but mostly, hospitals send the message as a reminder of the risks they take every day. And the mistakes that leads to rare survivals, and deaths.
He thanks the lord, even though he is not that religious, when he is given permission to enter the small room. It reminds him of cubicles, even if there are four permanent walls instead of the curtains they usually use. Dreadful thoughts hit him. If she has been given a room, it's bad. Or the hospital just happens to have the beds for it.
She isn't as pale as he expected; which is good. She is talking to the male doctor about medication, but her words are slow and exhausted. Somewhere in-between the time of arrival and now, she has changed into a hospital gown. He wonders shortly if her clothes have been cut apart, but is overwhelmed by relief that she is even awake. He daren't think of the alternatives. Against her brunette hair, she is awfully white, but the truly white gown creates another glow to her skin that only because of her tan is able to win him over to the side of her being okay. He had no idea of why she was driving, but the usual suspects are molded inside him: to a bar, a club, a date gone wrong, perhaps? The possibilities are endless, but all that matters for now is her conscious mind. The fact that she's okay.
He lets them finish, barely in the doorway. Kylie has left him and Nell has as well as evaporated. He suspects that her tagging along was Hetty's doing, but he doesn't argue. There has been enough hazardous driving for one night.
He finds himself looking at her, truly looking at her, as if trying to memorize her for later detail. Albeit pale, she is tucked into bed like a child, the thin hospital-issue bedding. He feels himself pulled toward the discussion, but stops in a halt. Doctor/patient confidentiality. Whatever injury, it is strictly hers to discuss. He does, however, find himself grateful that her head seems to be untouched, a tiny bandaid hiding a, hopefully superficial, graze above her right eyebrow, though not too close to her temple.
The moment her mismatched eyes dwell upon him, he is struck by an unusually dry throat. He cannot find any words that suit the situation, and sighing her name in relief seems corny, so he hopes that his eyes express the turmoil within. Whether or not, her eyes widen slightly in surprise only to return to normal in relaxation. While obviously unsure why he's here, she is comfortable about it. Yet the doctor sends her a subtle look to be certain that leaving her alone with him is a good idea.
"Thanks, doctor Cho. It's okay," Kensi says, eyeing the Asian doctor for a moment before returning to the staring contest between them. Once Dr. Cho has left, Deeks wastes no time rushing to her bed. It makes it sound like the room is large, but every nanosecond is too long for Deeks. He needs confirmation that she is alright. He cannot spot any bandaids and casts beyond the bruising on her arm. Still, the worry remains.
"You okay?" he dares to ask.
She nods silently, her eyes harboring a different kind of hurt than the one he has seen. His ocean blue eyes flicker towards the IV in her hand. When he doesn't recognize the medication, he finds himself assuming it's a pain killer.
"What happened?" His voice is sharper, with an edginess he recognizes as worry and concealed disappointment. The slightest anger rises, but he chooses to giver her the benefit of the doubt. After all, their partnership wouldn't have lasted long if they weren't able to let the other explain.
She cringes. He notices that so far, she hasn't spoken at all. "Car crash," her hoarse throat says, as if it explains all. She sees the look upon his face and elaborates.
"I was driving a-and.." She swallows, not out of trauma or recollection but out of weariness. "I was hit by a car. It came out of nowhere," she admits, looking tired.
"What meds do they have you on?"
She informs him and he widens his eyes. The question in his eyes is, however, inevitable. He has never seen Kensi back away from a fight, but when it comes to her own emotional dilemmas, she is too easily shied away.
"How bad is it?"
"I've broken bones in both legs because I was squeezed in the wreckage," Kensi declares bluntly, awaiting his reaction. Sensing that it isn't all, he motions to her head. As if only remembering now, she travels her index finger along the white bandaid. "Yeah, I got a little smashed up," she admits sullenly.
Next part coming up!