Title: Only Hope Can Keep Me Together
Rating: PG13 for injury, aftermath
Character(s): Deeks, Eric, Kensi
Disclaimer: Not mine. My Deeks would have been much scarier to Monica in "Parley."
Summary: She sends an SOS to the world...
You talk to Kensi this much during a stakeout?
Usually more. Sometimes we text even though we're right next to each other. It's pretty adorable.
Sometime between the first and second visits from the hospital's consulting oral surgeon, Eric appeared by his bedside.
"Um, don't try to talk, I just wanted to see you," he said, shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortably. " I mean, see you like you are now. Make sure you're okay. I mean, I know you're okay. Because Hetty said so, and I saw . . . I mean, I wanted to see you."
The meds made everything seem sort of sideways and far away, but it occurred to him then that Eric probably had been along for the rescue raid in helmet-cam spirit, if not in body, so the last Eric had seen of him, he'd been vomiting blood and broken teeth down Kensi's shoulder. Too bad for Eric that NCIS had the money for full-color cameras, he thought, and winced when he laughed at his own thought.
Smiling wasn't really possible, but he waved, and then offered a not-too-shaky thumbs up.
"Um, and I know you can't talk." Eric continued. "But they found your phone, with your gun and stuff. It got wet, obviously, but Hetty had Nell pull a replacement. Your SIM card was still good, and we swapped it out, so your contacts and settings should all still be in there. Put in your password and PIN and you're good to go. With texting and email, I mean. If there's anyone you want to get in touch with."
He placed it, face down, on the tray table next to the bed. Deeks made no move to pick it up, and Eric went on after an awkward pause. "So, yeah. It was good. I mean, I'm glad … I'm glad you're okay. And there's a scary nurse in the hall making a face at me so I have to go, but if it's alright I'll come back because Nell wants to come see you too if that's okay. We'll text before we come?"
With that, he backed away again, turned, and left.
The nurse wasn't an excuse; as soon as Eric had cleared the door she was at his bedside, carrying a fresh bag of antibiotics for the IV pump and wanting to do awful things with the gauze packing inside his cheek. Her visit required another click on his pain medication self-administration button to make everything recede to that far-away place again.
He was unsure how much later it was when he realized he was awake, he was alone, and he was restless. It was dark outside; the lights were turned down in the hall, and nurses were speaking more quietly. The guest chair next to the bed had been moved, telling him someone had been in earlier, but he had no memory of who it might have been or how long they had sat next to him.
Fidgeting hurt. Shifting his weight hurt. Clenching and unclenching his jaw to release all the tension - hurt a lot. He reached over and picked up the phone.
It was identical to the one he'd had in his jacket pocket when he dove into the pool, and turning it on brought up his familiar home screen. He fumbled his password the first two times he tried it, his hands shaking with the effort of working at that level of precision.
What did he need to do this for? Hetty, his next of kin, knew where he was, had visited earlier. She had reassured him that Monty was at his favorite dogsitter. Nearly everyone else on his important contacts list had been involved in his rescue in some way. Didn't need to tweet "I'm alive" to them. Didn't really want to deal with them all knowing what had happened. With them all seeing him in that condition.
There was no one he needed to talk to, no one he needed to reassure.
Still, there might be something to read. He could see what sort of stupid memes his high school friends had put on Facebook. A stream of posts about their boring daily lives, about needing to buy beer and being cranky about what was on TV sometimes was nice, to help him pretend he didn't know anything about nutjobs with smallpox or fanatics with plutonium or ideologues with cyanide or sociopaths with nuclear weapons. Or sociopaths with drills. He concentrated harder and typed in the necessary string of characters.
As the main screen came up, the phone vibrated, chimed, vibrated again. He realized that everything he'd been sent in every format while his old phone was out of commission was being delivered. Emails, app notifications, and texts.
Lots and lots of texts. He thumbed them open, and his heart dropped as he realized what they were. Text after text from his partner, with timestamps beginning almost at the moment his phone went offline.
Leather Chick tried to kill Michelle!
I've got her safe though
Lets not tell Sam how close that was, okay?
Where are you?
Answer your phone.
Just hit reply and whatever.
Where are you?
We'll get you back.
You promised me.
Callens going crazy
He doesn't talk to me when he's thinking
Not used to telling my partner to talk more.
Don't think that means you should talk more.
Though right now I'd give a lot to hear you talking.
Even about that stupid Facebook game.
You do know that communication skills mean talking, right?
Cause yeah. Skills. Talking.
Hetty said something to Granger that made him do that purple face thing.
I wanted to hear you do your impression of him.
Sabatino just showed. He thinks he gets to be in charge. Callen thinks otherwise.
Sabatino keeps looking at me like
Like he thinks you're not coming back.
The only frozen thing in my living room will be ice cream.
Which you'll be buying.
You promised.
Granger just did that neck vein thing.I couldn't hear what Callen said to him.
I can't believe lack of spycraft might break this. Sam would love this.
Even you don't eat the same sandwich every day. Veronika's an idiot.
Was an idiot.
Bullshit if Sabatino thinks I'm staying in OPS.I said we'd get you back.
Angry Callen is Awesome Callen. We're definitely in.
Sabatino's guy says he's got two non-moving heat signatures. They think that means you.
Please move.
Hold on, 're coming for you.
I need you to hang on.
I mean it.
Hetty sent me home
They said you'll be out of it for awhile.
And you're not supposed to try talking.
That's okay. We'll deal. I think we'll manage to communicate.
His hand was already tiring from thumbing through the texts, and it shook as he put the phone down. Only then did he notice Kensi standing in the door of his room, watching him.
He met her gaze very deliberately, as he picked the phone back up and hit "reply." Carefully, trying not to tremble, he typed out:
are we good?
She smiled as she read it off her own phone.
"You're alive. We're so good."
He exhaled heavily. It hurt, and he winced. Kensi walked over to the side of his bed, and gently took the phone from his hand. He tried to give her an indignant look, but moving his eyebrows caused stitches somewhere in his face to pull uncomfortably, and he closed his eyes in frustration.
He felt her hand slip, tentatively, to cover his own. She held it, rubbing circles on the back of it with her thumb.
"Here's something I actually mean," she said after a long pause. "You've become the most important person in my life."
He opened his eyes and stared up at her, trying to use his eyes to convey all the words that were stuck behind his swollen tongue, hoping she could read him and know he meant the same thing.
He opened his mouth, took a breath. She hushed him, reaching out a finger but stopping short of touching his wounded face. "Shush. And where that leaves us, is that we need to talk, when you can talk. And we will."
He bent his fingers to grip hers, squeezed them hard for a beat.
"But right now, I'm going to sit here and enjoy you bring alive. And you are going to lie there and concentrate on getting better." She pulled the chair closer to his bedside as he nodded agreement.
"Because that? Means everything."
AN: Had the first bits of this on my hard drive since last spring, when the thought of Kensi texting Deeks all the things she couldn't say while he was missing first got in my head. This is me trying to clear that out ahead of the premiere.
Title from The Police, "Message in a Bottle." "Love can mend your life, but love can break your heart."