Angst like whoa on this one. It's dark and there is a character death, so you've been warned.
I own nothing.
(Sorry for the mix up at first. Got my drafts mixed up and posted the wrong thing!)
We All Fall Down
I. Denial
She knows it's real.
She saw it happen.
She saw him leave her.
And maybe that's why it's so much harder for her to wrap her head around it.
It all seems to happen so fast. Too fast even. And that pisses her off.
They're laughing. Deeks is cracking jokes. If you didn't look too hard you'd think they were a couple, walking together with their arms lightly brushing from time to time. Their chemistry seems undeniable to everyone around them, but they're fighting a silent battle within themselves.
She refuses to take the plunge; afraid he won't be waiting to catch her and then she'll just be screwed. But she should know better than that, he's her partner and she should trust him with everything she's got. Should.
She never gets the chance to voice these fears though, because she's thrown onto a different battlefield in less than a few seconds. Unprepared, surprised. The gunshot is loud, louder than Kensi expected and her ears are left ringing for a lingering moment as she tries to piece together what the hell just happened.
And he's still beside her, clear blue eyes suddenly clouded with pain and fear and when she looks down she sees the red that's slowly blossoming across his white t-shirt. She's never been so scared in her life. It doesn't take long, maybe a fraction of a second before she has him pinned against the pavement, pushing down on the wound as it continues to gush and he groans against the pressure and pain.
People are screaming around them, cellphones pressed to their ears and she can only pray that they're calling 911. She looks around momentarily, looking for the shooter, for someone who will help her. But everyone is frozen and she knows she's on her own.
"Hey Deeks, look at me." She barks the words like an order, reaching out to lift his chin so she's looking right into his eyes. Her hands are sticky and red, making her stomach churn as she pleads with him.
"Deeks," she shakes him lightly and when he doesn't stir she does it harder. "Deeks." This time he looks up and coughs, blood staining the corner of his mouth. She can hear it gurgling in his throat.
"Wasn't really how I pictured my morning," he tells her, tying to laugh but instead more of that damn red stains his lips and Kensi has to bite back tears of shear panic.
"Don't talk," she says, smoothing back his curls as she cradles his head in her lap. His chest rises slowly, barely noticeable if you're simply glancing. Now she knows it had only taken a few minutes, not the many hours it felt like and it makes the thought a bit more bearable.
His breaths were shuddering now, his eyes shut as he grasped on to the last bit of strength his exhausted body held. Kensi, by now, is crouched over him with her hand pressed tightly against his abdomen. She can hear the sirens in the distance but by now she knows it's too late.
People look at her with pity when she finally lets go of him but it's not by choice. The paramedics have to pry her off of his body, she fights them and she doesn't even know she's yelling until Callen is there and telling her to stop. To look at him and breathe because she's gasping as the oxygen fights to enter her lungs and she feels her head spinning before things go black.
II. Anger
Anger is familiar.
She's always angry, he once told her to lighten up.
Now he doesn't say much at all.
Needless to say, people begin to avoid her after it happens and Kensi can't find one damn reason to blame them. She's on a rampage the first week Hetty lets her come back, she snaps at the smallest of questions, slams the drawer to her desk shut when she can't find her favorite pen and when Sam tells him it's buried beneath the pile of papers on top she tells him to go to hell.
She hates that people pity her.
She doesn't need pity.
She needs him.
Sadly she knows this is never going to be a reality and she empties the remainder of her clip into the target without blinking.
Things take a turn for the worst when Nate tries to get her to open up.
She knows he's trying to help and Kensi loves this man like a brother she never had but at that moment all she wants for him is to shut up as the pounding in her head intensifies and she whips around and grabs her head in her hands.
"I've already told you Nate. Nothing. I feel nothing! He's gone, dead. There's no reason for me to feel anything right now!" she shoves the psychiatrist for good measure, watches him stumble backwards and catch himself before he can fall and she stomps out of the building and runs until she can't breathe and tears make it too hard to see where she's going.
She calls him and sobs into the phone the next day when guilt threatens to make a mess out of her already ransacked life. After that she deletes him from her life. Or at least she tries.
All the photos are taken down, frames smashed against the hardwood floor and she yells curses to him and every god she's ever sent a prayer to because they've betrayed her and she has nothing to count on anymore.
She is alone.
III. Bargaining
Bargaining is easy.
Life is hard.
Both, unfortunately, are painful.
Hetty is the first to approach her. It's late one night and everyone else, even Callen, has gone home but she can't seem to leave her desk. There are dark circles under her eyes; she stopped trying to cover them up with makeup weeks ago. The lie wasn't worth the effort.
The tiny woman stands just in front of her, silent and stoic and Kensi wonders how she doesn't feel anything and if she does Kensi envies her ability to hide it from everyone else. Because all she does is feel and all she wants is to make it stop. She drops her pen and it thumps against the wood. Hetty folds her arms and the ultimatum falls from her lips without warning.
It is the only ultimatum she has been given, yet the blow is painful and it throbs like a bruise that is prodded over and over.
"You know I admire you Miss Blye, but I fear the line between real life and the fantasy you have playing in your head is dangerously blurred and I can't risk my agents lives by sending one in the field whose judgment is clouded. You need to seek help that goes beyond this office, and I suggest you seek it soon."
Kensi's breath catches in her throat and the choked sound she makes has Hetty's eyes boring into her. She wipes at her eyes and in an act of desperation looks at Hetty and begging. She never begs.
"Is it going to get easier?" she asks.
The silence is deafening, it's only silenced by the sound of the blood roaring in her ears.
Callen's approach is not as harsh but his words cut almost as deep as Hetty's.
"I can't watch you destroy yourself," he tells her. "I can't lose you too Kens. I need you to get your head on straight." His blue eyes are clouded and if she looks long enough she can almost imagine someone else looking back at her.
It's as simple as that.
A revelation, an attempt to make her see that she's still wanted.
Needed.
It's met with few words and general understanding.
IV. Depression
She has been in the company of depression many times.
It's an old friend, bitter with a tang of familiarity.
She is swallowed by the struggle, spit back out to face it on her own.
Because in the end alone is what she has.
In the end she decides admitting is the hardest part. She thinks it will be the surrender but she is wrong and when she looks at herself in the mirror and says the words out loud, it is worse than any defeat she can think of.
She was born and bred to be strong. She is her father's daughter and he taught her to stand tall. Yet here she is, crumbling and defeated. A pile of fragments and dangerously sharp edges that have lost their purpose and luster.
She needs help.
It's her last chance, the final play left in a game of loss and destruction.
It's her move, and it's hers to make alone.
V. Acceptance.
Accepting is not giving up.
It is a struggle.
The tragic end to a new beginning.
It's the only time she's visited his grave.
A white stone, neatly carved letters, and a pile of wilting flowers. She thinks it's too plain for his sake. He is not plain, he is alive and colorful and so full of joy. But this headstone is dreary and it lacks all of these things and it pisses her off.
She stands in front of it and her hands are trembling with the effort to keep it together, to hold the broken pieces in as one because she at least owes him that. She doesn't know what to say, she's had the better part of six months to think of what she is to tell him but she comes up empty handed and the irony makes her laugh and laugh.
She laughs until she feels the dampness on her face and she wipes her cheek and wonders when it began to rain. Then she looks up and she sees the sun beating down and in one last attempt to repair her broken life she tells him what everyone else already knows.
"I need help."