SPOILER ALERT: If you have not watched NCIS:LA episode 5x19 'Spoils of War' and do not wish to be spoiled, do not continue reading.

A/N: Is anyone alive after that episode?! It was both parts amazing and heartbreaking. A job well done on all parts. And now we get Kensi back in LA! I was so happy with how it ended on the Densi front, but my heart (which was in pieces, but in a good way) was begging me to write this. I only get a week to believe that this could be canon, so I'm going to use every second of it to hope that this happens. I know it won't, but that's what fanfiction is for, right?

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles

He hears the water shut off and the house is thrown into silence. There's still the sound of the water boiling on the stove and the nearly-muted television, but the white noise of the shower is gone. It feels empty, even though the house is fuller than it's been in months. The shower door slides open and he hears the squeal of the towel rack as she pulls a towel off of it. It's done that as long as he's known her, and he wagers it'll do that for a good while longer. She's always been bad about getting the small things fixed.

He stirs the pot on the stove, making sure the noodles don't get stuck to the bottom and burn. 4am is a strange time to be eating dinner, and so is having chicken noodle soup for breakfast. But they're both hungry and she has a cold, so he said he'd make something while she showered.

The flight was long. Ridiculously so. She slept most of the way, curled up next to him with her head against the window. By the end, however, she was sniffling and coughing so much that she couldn't stay asleep, and neither could anyone else. The last few hours, she just stared out the window. She seemed to be beyond tears now, and had worked her way into a solemn silence. It used to freak him out, that silence. It still does, but he understands her better now, knows what she's been through. To him, it's as much a part of her as her messy apartment and her bad jokes. It's the way she grieves, and even after they'd landed, she didn't say a word until he asked if she was ready to go home.

He hears the bathroom door open and her quiet footsteps as she moves into her bedroom. A few drawers open and close and then there's silence. He wants so badly to go in there and see how she is, but he doesn't dare. It's much better to let her come to him. He's learned that the hard way.

He spoons the soup into bowls, making sure that she has more meat and vegetables in hers. He also fills up two glasses with orange juice. They stopped to pick up essentials at the 24 hour store down the block. He'd grabbed the orange juice without thinking, knowing that it would make her feel better. She craved the stuff when she was sick. She told him once that it had something to do with how her dad would force it on her when she had colds as a kid, and now she couldn't break the habit.

The soup hasn't even started cooling when her bedroom door finally creaks open—another thing that will probably never get fixed—and she comes down the hall. She's wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt. He knows it's to hide her injuries, even though the ones on her face are enough to break his heart. And they do, every time he looks at her, even though he can't stop. He just wants to reassure himself that she's here, safe, and alive, even if looking at her causes emotion to build painfully in his chest.

Her small, sad smile breaks his heart too, as she comes into the kitchen and they lock eyes. Hers are red; she's been crying again. The cold probably doesn't help, either. "Everything good?" Deeks asks, unable to help himself.

She shakes her head. Usually he'd say something more, try to get something out of her, but now, he's just glad she trusts him enough not to lie. He hands her a bowl of soup and the glass of orange juice. Her smile is a little larger, a little more genuine, when she sees it. His heart lifts a little.

He follows her to the living room and they take up their familiar places on the couch. He has the TV turned to some channel that plays sitcoms for 24 hours. The muted background laughter is the only sound in the house.

"Can you change the channel?" She asks quietly.

"Sure," he answers, grabbing the remote. "What do you want to watch?"

She shrugs, and takes a bite of her soup. Through the smell of chicken broth and vegetables, her scent wafts over and hits him. He has to take a moment and catch his breath. There's her coconut shampoo, the scent he associates so closely with sunshine and summer, her lotion and its clean scent reminding him of fresh laundry, and something slightly citrusy. He's never been able to pin down exactly what it is, but it's there, so familiar it hurts.

Deeks skims through the channels, searching for something that neither of them will have to think about. It's really just background noise, especially since she's already falling asleep again, and he's not too far behind.

He stops on America's Next Top Model. Her eyes lift, something flashing in them that he hasn't seen since before she left. She perks up a little and her back straightens. "What episode is this?" she asks.

Deeks flips back to the channel guide and says, "It's brand new. Aired last night."

Her face falls a little, "I've missed all of it."

Deeks stretches out his feet on her coffee table and settles back into the couch. "It's a good thing you have On Demand. And a few extra hours since we don't have to be into work tomorrow."

Kensi takes a drink of her juice and sniffs. She grabs a tissue from the table next to the couch and wipes her nose before she says, "Ok, but we have to start at the beginning of the season."

Deeks shrugs and flips through to the On Demand channel. He finds the first episode and presses play. The theme music starts and he really should be ashamed that he knows every word, but he finds that he isn't. Not even a little bit.

They both finish their soup halfway through the episode. Kensi's already dozing off on the arm of the couch. She's curled up with her head on a pillow, but it doesn't look very comfortable, so Deeks says her name softly. She looks up sleepily as he pats the space beside him.

She waits a moment, and he thinks she might still be asleep, but then she scoots down the couch and he lifts his feet so he's lying along the length of it. She curls up between his body and the back of the couch, her head on his shoulder and one arm around his middle. Her body is still warm from the shower, and the smell of her fills his nose and his head and his whole body so that he can barely think straight. Her hair is still wet and the water soaks through his shirt. She lifts her arm and attempts to brush it back, but it's awkward in their position. Deeks reaches over and helps her, his fingers lingering over her temple for a moment.

She closes her eyes and breathes out slowly, almost imperceptibly. When she opens them, she locks eyes with him and says, very quietly, "Thank you." He knows that it means more than just brushing her hair back. So much more.

It's almost ten in the morning when he wakes up. The sun is streaming through the window on her front door and the TV is still on, though it's playing infomercials since the On Demand was abandoned. She's still curled against him, her hair having dried into curling tendrils that tickle his neck. She breathes quietly, peacefully, and Deeks really doesn't want to wake her up. His back is killing him though and he slips off the couch, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes open sleepily and her brow furrows when she sees him sitting on the floor beside the couch.

"Deeks? What are you doing?" She mumbles.

"I was trying to get off the couch without waking you up."

She smiles in her half-asleep state, and winces a little at the soreness in her face. "So much for that," she says.

He fights against the smile forming on his face. It's nice to see her back to herself, even if it's only marginally.

"What are you doing up?" she asks, stretching her legs a little farther down the couch, wincing again at the pain.

"I just woke up on my own. I wasn't gone long enough to get jet lag," he replies. "You can go back to sleep, though. I actually have somewhere I need to be."

She looks a little hurt, and a little panicked, when she says, "You're leaving?"

Deeks meets her eyes and says gently, "Not for very long. I can come back if you want me to."

She nods, the fear fading. "Ok. Where do you have to go? We have the day off."

"Just down to LAPD. I have to handle some stuff there."

She nods again and lifts herself from the couch. Deeks unconsciously holds out a hand to help her. She doesn't need it, but she doesn't push it away either. She gets up stiffly and Deeks stands up next to her, his hand still on her arm. "Now that you've woken me up, I might as well go sleep in my own bed," she says.

Deeks cracks a grin and squeezes her arm gently. "I'll be back in a few hours," he tells her. He leans in slowly, gauging her reaction before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep. You need it."

She leans into him and then steps away. He heads toward the door, grabbing his keys and phone before opening it. He turns and catches her eye, giving her a soft smile, which she returns. He heads down the drive, listening for the door to lock—it does—and then he gets into his car and drives away.

The chief of police doesn't object when Deeks hands in his badge and resigns. It's been a long time coming and the fact that Deeks still holds the title of "detective" at this point is really just a formality. He hasn't stepped foot into a precinct in years. He wishes Deeks good luck, though, and says that he'll be missed, which is also a formality. They both know that no one at LAPD is going to miss the witty, scruffy detective who just happened to be better at his job than all of them put together.

When Deeks stops in at OSP and tells Hetty that he's ready to sign that application that's been sitting in her desk drawer for three years, she pulls out the file and hands it over without question. When he's finished signing it, she takes the pen and hands him a badge in its place. "Welcome to NCIS, Mr. Deeks," she says with a smile. "I've been waiting a long time to give this to you. Use it wisely."

Deeks nods his thanks, bewildered that she already had a badge made for him. That woman really does know everything.

When he pulls into Kensi's driveway in the early evening, he sits in the car for a moment before heading in. The badge is in his lap. It's exactly like his LAPD badge, same size and color. The picture is different, though, much more recent. He looks older than he did in his ID photo for LAPD, even though it was taken less than a year ago. A lot can change in a year, though.

He wonders if he's making a mistake. The stakes are higher here, there's more at risk if he screws up. He can't go back to the safety of LAPD if things go south. But, he reasons, NCIS has given him more of a home in four years than LAPD gave him in nearly a decade. It may be more dangerous, but it's also the place that he feels like he needs to be, for himself, for his team, and for Kensi. He can't face the risk of being called back to LAPD on assignment and leaving her partnerless. They both know what that's like, and now that he's experienced what it's like to lose her, he never ever wants to go through that again. They have to stay together, no matter what, and this is the first step towards making that commitment.

He knocks on the door and opens it, peeking inside. Kensi is sitting on the couch in a fresh pair of clothes, though they're still sweats. She looks up from the TV and her eyes light up. The color in her face has returned a little, and she looks healthier and well-rested. When she speaks, however, her voice fails her. "You're back," she whispers hoarsely.

Deeks tries not to smile at it, but he fails. Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head, choosing not to speak this time. Deeks holds up the bag of food in his hand and says, "Sorry?" hoping that the food will make up for him laughing at her.

It seems to work, because she waves him over to the couch and grabs the bag from him the moment he sits down. Deeks stills her hands before she can tears into the burgers that she knows are inside. "Kensi," he says seriously. She looks at him, a similar expression her face. There's something different, though. She's waiting, he realizes. Waiting for the bomb to drop and shatter her world again. She's no stranger to the feeling, and now it's like she's paranoid it's going to happen at every turn.

"Kensi," he repeats himself, scrambling to tell her before she breaks down. "I want to show you something. Something…good. I think."

Her face changes and her tense stance drops. "Okay."

Deeks pulls the badge out of his pocket and holds it out. Kensi looks at the front, her fingers brushing over the NCIS seal. She looks at him, confused and he nods for her to open it. She does. When she sees his picture under the block lettering of NCIS, she stills in shock. Then, Deeks watches as her eyes fill with tears and she looks up at him. "You're really doing it?" she whispers.

Deeks nods. "I turned in my resignation at LAPD today. Hetty already had the badge made and everything. I think she saw this coming before I even thought about it."

Kensi furrows her brow. "You've been thinking about it. For how long?"

Deeks blows out a breath. "A while. I think I knew I wanted to join ever since our first case, but I only seriously started thinking about it when you left. Kensi, I don't ever want you to go without a partner again. And I don't ever want to be without a partner. I hope you're okay with that."

She's quiet for a moment, her hand pressed to the badge. Then she looks up at him, tears in her eyes. They're tears of grief and raw loss, but there's also happiness, and hopefulness. "I'm more than okay with that," she says, her voice conveying it all, even through its hoarseness.

She hands him back the badge and nudges him. "Took you long enough," she says playfully, though it's a little awkward after all this time. She grabs the bag of burgers and pulls out two.

She hands him one and he takes it, reciprocating the banter, "That'd be a little more menacing if you didn't sound like you smoke 12 packs a day."

She goes to punch him, but thinks better of it, and grabs a few of his fries instead, shoving them into her mouth. She chews, swallows, and says, "Just for that, I hope it stays this way so you're stuck having to hear it every single day for the rest of your life. There's no going back now."

Deeks laughs—it feels so good to laugh again—and he says, "I wouldn't dream of it."

Kensi's soft smile lights up his whole world as she says, "Neither would I."