Well, this is my first time writing an NCIS LA fic, but if you're a fan of the original NCIS too, you should totally check out my other stories :) (I'm a shameless self-promoter) Anyway, I saw the whole Kensi/Deeks pairing from the beginning, and I'm finally doing something about it! As usual, this idea came to me at a very inopportune moment (in the shower, on my study break; I hate finals) so I'm going to write this very fast, but I hope it turns out alright :) let me know (wink wink)

Oh, this takes place right after the end of the finale, when they're in Romania.

Disclaimer: you all know what goes here, it's pretty self-explanatory.

Marty Deeks watched his irate partner glare at her reflection in the foggy mirror. Apparently, the calming shower he'd suggested hadn't been quite as calming as he'd thought it would be.

"- just don't see why they had to hole up in their room to sort this out on their own," she was currently ranting. "It affects all of us! Why can't we help?"

She would have continued her tirade, but Deeks cut in, "Kensi!" He winced slightly as she turned her furious gaze to him. "Hey, just think about this for a second, okay? Callen just realized that what little he thought he knew about his past isn't at all true. He has to deal with the thought that everything anyone ever told him was a lie, and he really has no idea who he is. You'd want to be alone too, wouldn't you? Don't even try to tell me you wouldn't," he said as she opened her mouth to argue.

She sighed and turned back to the mirror, grabbing her brush. "I hate being kept in the dark, that's all," she growled as she started ripping the brush through her hair. Deeks frowned. "Everything with Hetty, and the director, and this Lauren Hunter! Who is she anyway? According to G she can't even shoot! Why on earth would-"

"Kensi!" Deeks broke in again. This time her piercing glare didn't faze him. "Come here. You're going to hurt yourself." At her confused look, he raised his eyebrows and motioned her over to the bed where he was sitting. Never one to back down from a challenge, even if she didn't know what it was, Kensi strutted over and stood in front of him. "What?"

"Give me the brush and sit down," he ordered sternly. Surprised, she complied, turning to sit on the edge of the bed with her back to him.

Without another word, he confidently took a few strands of her damp, tangled hair and began gently brushing it smooth. She had beautiful hair, he thought, not for the first time. Her dark curls bounced back into place just moments after the brush passed through them. After a few moments of blessed silence, she said quietly, "You've done this before."

It wasn't a question. Deeks sighed. "Yeah... When my mom got sick I had to help her out a lot. On the bad days she couldn't lift her arms, so this was my job. I... had to take care of my little sister a lot too, even before Mom was diagnosed."

The particularly stubborn knot he had been working on was yanked out of his hands as Kensi turned to look at him in astonishment. "You have a sister?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "Hey, I almost had that one untangled! Turn around."

To his mild surprise, she obeyed. He found the snag pretty quickly and quietly worked for a minute before answering her question. "Yes," he said. "Michelle." The faint smile that crossed his face when he spoke the name did not go unnoticed by Kensi, who watched him in the mirror that hung over the desk across the room.

"She had long blonde hair that got tangled if you so much as touched it. She had to have it long though. She cried when Mom or I cut the ends off," he laughed softly. "Man she loved her hair."

Kensi watched as the reminiscent smile faded into something darker.

"Dad... cut it off one day in a drunken rage. Almost took her ear off too."

Kensi couldn't help the gasp that broke through her lips, though he didn't seem to hear it.

Laughing mirthlessly, he continued, "I was so mad. I yelled at him. Think I may have thrown something too, maybe a lamp? I don't know. I don't really remember much. I do remember him breaking my arm though."

Kensi's heart broke for the little boy Deeks had once been, robbed of his innocence too early in life. "How old were you?" she whispered.

Deeks flinched at her voice. He'd almost forgotten she was there. "Nine," he answered automatically. "Michelle was six. That was the day I decided I had to do something, though I didn't until three years later. Michelle was terrified of him. Couldn't stand to be alone in the house with him; I had to take her everywhere with me. No one really minded though, she was a sweet girl. Everybody loved her."

He'd finally finished brushing Kensi's hair and was unconsciously braiding it, imagining his sister's shining blonde hair instead of his partner's beautiful brunette. He hadn't even realized what he'd said until she brought it up a few minutes later.

"Deeks," she started hesitantly, "What do you mean you didn't do anything until three years later?"

His hands froze in her hair. "I- nothing. It was nothing," he tried to brush it off.

Of course, being Kensi, she wasn't going to let it go. "Come on Deeks! You would have been eleven, right? It's not like you-" She stopped, and Deeks watched her eyes go round with realization. "Gordon John Brandell," was all she said. It was all that needed to be said. He simply nodded and tied off the finished braid. She immediately turned to face him.

"He was your father," she clarified. Again, Deeks only nodded. "Oh, Deeks," she whispered. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"He had a shotgun," he explained, needing her to understand, to not hate him.

"Deeks, I don't blame you at all!" Kensi told him forcefully, knowing exactly what he was doing. She lifted her hand to his cheek, brushing away the tear she found there.

"Kens, I shot my own father," he whispered, another tear joining the first.

Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms. "And if you hadn't he would have shot you," she replied.

After a moment, he pulled away. "My mom."

Puzzled, she asked, "What?"

"He would have shot my mom. Not me."

She reached out and grabbed his hand this time, knowing he needed something to hold onto, and sensing he wasn't done with his story yet.

He gave a short, barking laugh, and said, "You know, I regretted shooting him a few years later, when Mom got sick. I used to lie in bed and think, why didn't I just grab the gun? He was in jail, Mom was dying, and I was only fourteen. I knew if we got thrown in the foster system we'd get separated." His laugh was more genuine this time. "Apparently Mom knew it too, though we never talked about it. She died a week after I turned eighteen."

"You never talk about your sister," Kensi said curiously after a long silence.

His eyes turned dark again, and he fixed them on the generic, ugly hotel duvet. "No," he sighed. "She... got into some bad stuff after Mom was diagnosed. I tried to help her, but I was also trying to keep my grades up, and make enough money to keep us in our house and to get Mom her meds. I guess... I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most. She... she disappeared the night of the funeral. Left me a note that said she was... pregnant. She said she didn't want to have to see how disappointed I was in her, and she didn't want to burden me with her mistake. She told me not to look for her. Of course, I did, but I... All the years hiding from Dad made her good at disappearing."

Kensi didn't think he realized he was crying at this point. She gathered him into her arms again, and held him as he poured out everything he'd kept locked inside for all these years. She had to wonder if he'd ever told anyone what he'd let out tonight. As she blinked, a tear of her own slid down her cheek.

A long while later, they were lying next to each other on the bed previously designated as his, but neither of them thought the other bed would be getting much use that night. "You know," she started quietly, her voice hoarse from crying, "Eric and Nell could find her."

She felt him nod. "Yeah," he sighed. "I just... I don't know what I'll find. And I'm not sure I want to know. It scares me." Kensi gently squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"I know," she said. They both knew she understood perfectly. "When we get back, when you're ready, we'll both ask them, okay? You ask Nell to look for Michelle, and I'll ask Eric to look for Jack," her voice wavered only slightly when she said his name. "And when they find them, we'll be there for each other, just in case. Okay?"

Deeks had to smile at her determination. "Okay," he agreed.

Kensi stuck out her hand. "Shake on it," she said.

Laughing, they shook on it.

So, now that you've read it, you have to tell me what you think :) (and be sure to check out my other stories :) )