I actually dreamed the seed of this fic one night last spring. It's not the first time I've ever dreamed a story, but it is the first time I managed to get it down on paper (so to speak). It's a little darker and grittier than what I usually write, but it comes as it comes. Since this one is outside my wheelhouse, I would love to hear what you think. Feedback is much appreciated. :)
Huge thanks go out to imahistorian, beta extraordinaire, who helps me focus, tweak, tighten, and improve, as well as providing the occasional geographical assistance.
She gasped for breath, an ugly choking noise that filled her ears. His hand around her throat tightened just a bit, and black dots began to dance in front of her eyes. Her fingers scrambled around his, trying to ease his hold, but his grasp was unshakeable, brutal. Final.
"Not so sure of yourself now, are you, Agent Blye?" he hissed in her ear, his head bent towards hers in a cruel parody of a lover's stance. "You still think you can take me?"
She found enough air to whisper, forcing words she'd never said before through trembling lips. "Please. Please….don't."
His free hand began to roam over her body, squeezing and pinching. Hurting her. He loosened his hold on her neck, but she was so weakened from lack of oxygen that all she could do was lay passively back against the wall, held upright only by his grasp. She tried to lift her hands, to fight back or at least push him away, but her hands refused to obey her, and her arms hung lifelessly by her side. He grinned at her, perverse pleasure brightening his gaze.
"I can tell you like that. Not even trying to stop me any more." He reached under her shirt, his fingernails scoring the skin of her abdomen as he pulled it up. She was filled with horror, unable to stop this from happening, to stop him. Her heart pounded dully in her ears, and she closed her eyes in denial. "Let's get down to business."
"No!" Kensi sat straight up, her hand automatically reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Of course it wasn't there. The moonlight streaming through her open window gave proof that both hands were empty, and she was safe in the comfort of her own bedroom. But the light of the full moon also showed that her hands were trembling visibly, and she wrapped her arms around herself so she wouldn't have to see the outward signs of her inner turmoil.
"This has got to stop," she whispered to herself, trying to sound stern. "I am going to get over this."
But she reached over and turned the lamp on, then sat in the meager comfort of the small circle of light for the rest of the long, long night.
She was late to work, of course, and the guys ribbed her about it as per usual. But she couldn't quite drum up an appropriate response as they teased her about a late night, a one-night stand, being hung over. Callen and Sam let it drop, thinking perhaps that she was a little off or not feeling well. She wasn't sure what they thought, to be honest, and she couldn't really bring herself to care. But she was aware that Deeks' eyes stayed on her most of the morning. Her partner was harder to fool than the other agents. She would have to be more careful with him.
So when he suggested sandwiches from Joe's for lunch, she made sure her eyes were clear as she faced him.
"I think I'm going to run home for lunch," she said. "I still have some leftovers from the weekend and I don't want them to go bad."
"Why didn't you bring it with you?" Deeks asked, eyes never leaving hers. "We always eat lunch here."
"I…guess I just forgot." She shrugged a little. "You know, I was running late this morning, and I didn't think about lunch."
He didn't say anything else, but his gaze narrowed in concern. "Kens…"
She cut in before he could finish, sure she wouldn't like whatever he was going to say. "Well, I'm going home. I'll be back after lunch."
She sighed heavily, aware she'd given herself away as she hurried towards her car. She'd successfully avoided most mealtime situations with her partner the last several days. Callen and Sam didn't notice when she just picked at her food, but Deeks was different. Deeks was watchful even when he didn't appear to be watching. Deeks would notice she spent more time using her fork to make funny shapes with her food than actually putting any of it into her mouth. Deeks would notice that by the time she'd pulled most of the stuff off her sandwich, there was very little left to eat.
And at some point, Deeks was going to successfully put two and two together and realize there was something terribly, seriously wrong with her.
But until that point, she would continue to put on a façade of having it all together. Of being all right, of being strong and powerful and herself. Of being Kensi.
Hard hands reached for her in the darkness. She struck out, trying to fight him off. But her own hands were weak, ineffectual. They slid off his brawny shoulders to dangle uselessly at her sides.
"Not so strong are you now, Agent Blye?" he whispered. He lifted one mammoth hand, slid it in a surprisingly gentle caress down the side of her cheek. She shuddered in horror, trying to turn her face away, but he grasped her chin hard enough to leave bruises, forcing her to face him. She closed her eyes then, but she couldn't shut out the sound of his hiss in her ear.
"After all this, you're just as weak as all the rest. Just a woman, like the others." His hand slid down from her face, over her breast and torso, seeking the soft skin underneath her shirt. Her skin crawled, and she tried to squirm away. But his grasp was inescapable. Rough hands scratched as he pulled her shirt up. She reached out blindly, trying to find a weapon, anything to stop him…
And she woke herself up as her grasping hand knocked over the floor lamp behind her couch.
Lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her. She shook her head, trying to wake herself up, but a persistent fog seemed to envelop her mind, forcing her thoughts to circle around and around. She couldn't keep this up. She couldn't keep trying to function like this. Someone was going to figure it out. Deeks was going to…
But the thought of her partner finally broke through, and she pushed her body to stand. That helped a little, maybe. She'd already known she wasn't going to be able to eat. Eating had become more of a chore than a pleasure, and sometimes her throat closed up and she couldn't force the smallest bite down. She'd lost a few pounds already, and her favorite jeans were looser than she'd liked. But even so, she'd known coming home today that it was one of those days when she just couldn't swallow so much as a crumb.
She'd thought to relax, catch up on a little reality tv instead of trying to force down food. But as soon as she'd sat down on the couch, she'd felt fuzzy, unnaturally calm, and she'd slipped into slumber within minutes despite her best efforts to stay awake. She'd known. Known exactly what was waiting for her when she couldn't keep it at bay. Fear had become a familiar companion, and not just because of the nightmares that persisted every time she closed her eyes. She feared what she was, and what she'd become if she couldn't kick this. If she couldn't control it, couldn't get past it, couldn't fight her way through it, then this…this thing, this fear, this specter from the past was going to mean she couldn't do her job anymore.
And if she couldn't do her job anymore, she feared she was going to become nothing at all.
She started violently as her phone buzzed at her. She wasn't surprised to see the text from her partner.
Where r u? it said, and she wished bitterly that she knew.
With another deep sigh, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to orient herself in the here and now before making her way back to OSP where she knew she'd spend another afternoon trying to disguise what she was and what she'd become from her partner.