A/N: I do not own any of the characters of NCIS LA.

This is set in the future, it's a small one-shot of Deeks reminiscing about the past.

Enjoy. R&R is always appreciated. :)


Paper.

It was nothing more than a sheet of paper, folds made permanent from having been kept folded in a tiny square shape over the years.

He unfolded it carefully, cautiously pulling at the brittle material in the hopes that it would not rip. With success he managed to unfold the tiny square, and gently smoothed the crumpled sheet out on the desk in front of him.

The sight of the writing hit him like a physical blow. Even now, years later, he could still remember writing the letter. So long had it been since he had had reason to write the letter; so much time had passed since his future had taken an unexpected turn. It was hard to believe where he was today, knowing full well – and being able to remember full well – where he had once been.

He swallowed hard, and continued.

It brought him some sorrow to relive that little piece of absolute hell from his past, but he did it to remind himself of the grave obstacles he had faced and overcome. He did it to push himself further in his vow to never let any other person live through the hell he had experienced. This was a link to his darkest hour, a piece of his deepest and darkest self that he had preserved. He kept it not to cling to negative memories, but to remind him of just how lucky he really was today.

"Whatcha got there?"

Deeks let out a small gasp as Kensi materialized behind him. Sluggish from the shock, he was only just too slow in his attempt to hide the paper, as Kensi reached forward and whisked it off the table into her hands.

"Kensi, please don't..." Deeks began, his tone begging, but he knew it was already too late. The room fell eerily quiet as she started to read his letter.

I'll never understand why they are the way they are; who designed them to have such a cruel nature.

They rush past during the happy moments, almost refusing to last the duration they're supposed to, when all you want is for them to stop so that you can actually enjoy the sensations they bring. Every millisecond of happiness, every sigh of content, every smile to play across your lips... You're made oblivious to it all. When it's time to be happy, you wouldn't know it if it smacked you across the face with the barrel of a gun. You don't feel it; any of it, any second of it.

Then they tick by ever so slowly during the painful moments, almost refusing to go by at all, when all you want is for them to pass so that your suffering can be put to an end. Every nanosecond of agony, every tear to slip out of the corner of your eye and roll down your face, every beat of heart ache to course through your body... You're made painfully aware of it all. When it's time to hurt, you know it. You feel it; all of it, every second of it.

How cruel they are, these seconds of time. How cruel they are to us, and how cruel it is that we are powerless to do anything about it.

I vaguely remember the first time we met. My heart had been beating so fast, almost in rhythm with the seconds that had so heartlessly flown by. After that day, time only continued to change; seconds melted into minutes, minutes into hours, days into weeks, months into years. The seconds we shared sped by at an accelerated rate; even the painful moments - which had previously gone by slowly - seemed to go by faster with just the thought of you helping me get by.

But then things changed. It all went by so fast. When I came back from my leave of absence, nothing was the same. I had changed, that I knew; but I was shocked to learn I was not the only one. I foolishly thought that things would eventually go back to the way they used to be – that we would go back to the way we used to be - given time. I thought you would stay with me, I thought we would help each other get back to what we had almost lost. I had stupidly believed for a moment that it would surely be the beginning of our future together; I had wanted us to last forever.

But forever was denied much faster than I had thought it would be.

Contrary to my recollection of when we first met, I distinctly remember when you said goodbye. I can draw each second to mind with perfect clarity, as if I had borne witness to a presentation with each second displayed on a separate slide. The emotions I feel are so strong, it's as if I'm transported back in the past. I feel as though I'm reliving that very moment...

"October 8th, 2013.

Five. As soon as your words reached my ears, the world fell silent. I was only aware of your voice ringing painfully in my ears, the words a never-ending echo beating against my soul. My eyes widened and locked onto yours, and I noticed they had changed. Where had your eyes gone, the eyes filled with color, filled with compassion, filled with love?

Four. I blinked once, a vague attempt to keep back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes. I opened my mouth to respond, to cry out, to say something, anything; but no words came. Instead I frowned, trying to display the feelings of confusion and the oncoming agony. I watched you mouth the words "I'm sorry", and they only finalized what had already been said.

Three. Your eyes tore away from mine as you began to turn from me. I made a conscious decision to reach out to you, to grab your arm and pull you to me, to stop you from turning away from me, to stop you from… leaving. But my body appeared to have become detached from my brain. No parts of my body complied with their orders; I was frozen, rooted to the spot, unable to move. My eyes widened, if possible, even more, as I watched in terror while you kept turning.

Two. The tears had fought their way through and were now cascading freely down both sides of my face. I made no attempt to blink them back, for I knew it would be futile. Through bleary eyes I watched as you walked away from me, step after step, second after second, heartbeat after heartbeat. It seemed like forever had come and gone, and yet I was still focused on your back getting smaller and smaller as you left me behind with nothing more than a broken heart and an empty soul.

One. You vanished. In this split second, I was suddenly made aware of everything. The whisper of the wind rustling in the trees; the cold night air pressing against my skin; the warm yet uncomfortable feelings of the old tears that had slid down my face and the new tears that continued to slip out of my eyes; the stabbing pain I felt deep in my lungs with every breath I took.

I suddenly realized my brain had somehow reattached itself to my body as I called after you, screaming your name, begging you to come back. I blinked furiously in an attempt to force any remaining tears out of my eyes, to clear my vision. I took one step, one glorious step towards where you had disappeared. This was where the seconds decided to veer suddenly in the opposite direction, as they so often did.

I ran. The seconds flew by with me as I tried in vain to catch up with you, but I knew deep down that you were long gone. I knew deep down that no matter how long I ran, no matter how fast I ran, I would never catch up. You were gone. Forever.

I knew then and there that the option of living in this world without you was not an option for me. I had suffered through enough of this life, doing good for the better of the world and receiving nothing but pain, pain and more pain. The only thing that had kept the pieces of my heart held together had been you; but when you left, you took my heartstrings with you, leaving it to fall into a pile of shattered, worthless remains.

With that, I had no reason left to live."

One thing condoles me; where time has ruled my entire life up until now, this is the one time where I am in control. Once I end my life, there's no going back. This is the one time where seconds are forced to play by the rules. This is the one time where not even seconds can screw around with what they want, where they want.

Because this is the one single time that forever will last as long as it is intended.

This is the single, only time that forever will last forever.

She gazed down at the paper in complete shock. Her hands trembling ever so slightly, she brought the paper down and looked at him.

"You… Why did you… But I didn't… I never…" Kensi stuttered, fumbling for something to say, but she was utterly lost. Yes, she and Deeks had parted ways for a year after he returned from being tortured; but she thought it had been for the best. She had wanted to give him space to heal…

She had never known he had tried to commit suicide.

"If it makes you feel better, I never actually… Y'know," Deeks mentioned. With a small chuckle, he added, "Turns out Sam's description of me as a 'cookie-selling girl scout without any balls' wasn't wrong for every situation. Although, between you and me, I've seen my fair share of ballsy girl scouts. Last time I told a girl scout I didn't like the taste of those chocolatey mint things, she kicked me in the groin! The groin, Kensi!" By this time, Deeks was laughing, certain he had diverted Kensi's attention from the letter; but the laughter quickly faded as he realized she hadn't budged an inch.

"Deeks, I… I thought… I thought giving you space had been for the best, I…" Kensi let herself trail off, looking up at the ceiling, frustration past its limits. She was well known for her rather unique ability of communicating emotions (or as Deeks so often called it, "verbal diarrhea"), but it was still so very irksome to her.

Deeks stood up and gently tugged the paper from her hands, setting it gently on the table. He turned back to her and wrapped her arms around her small body to bring her tightly into his embrace.

"Kens, don't beat yourself up for it. It was a long time ago." He smiled as he felt her place her arms around his back, pulling herself further into him. He took her silence as a sign to continue. "I wasn't myself, and as long as I was still grieving over that part of my life, I wasn't able to let you in. You weren't able to help me until I was able to help myself first."

A soft sigh escaped Kensi's lips as she drew back from the hug to look into his eyes, her own eyes shining bright with tears. Deeks smiled – not everyone could make Kensi cry, and he was one of the unique few who could (in a good way); but he was really smiling at how far she had come in opening up to him. Part of true happiness for him was that Kensi was comfortable enough with him to let her true emotions show through her thick façade of emotionless strength.

"Well… At least we're here now, right?"

Deeks' smile grew, lighting up his entire face. "There is no luckier man than I, the husband of Kensi Marie Blye."

Kensi returned his smile by leaning in and pressing her lips against his in a soft, tender kiss. Deeks closed his eyes, his sensory system erupting in pleasure. When they drew apart from the kiss, he asked, "Might this lucky guy have a chance at getting lucky tonight?"

He saw her reaction just before her arm came from the side and smacked him across the side of the head. She smiled that famous coy smile of hers as he muttered profanities (Kensi thought she heard something along the lines of "marital abuse"), and he knew he was about to hear something he wasn't going to like.

"Maybe this lucky guy would get lucky if he cleaned the dishes or put out the garbage more often, huh?"

Deeks shrugged in response. "Well, if your special services require special services, we're going to have to draw up a contract here or something. I mean, my services don't come cheap, and I need some more info. Like what special services are you offering? What would be the duration of said services? Will there be any invited guests? You know three's a party, Kens, I've mentioned that before. What about positions? See, Kensi, I need more details!" He called after her, as she had turned around at the word "special services" and had started to leave. He couldn't help but grin; this was perfect, she was perfect.

After she had left, he looked back at his note on the table, letting out a small sigh. He carefully refolded the letter into a square, removed it from the desk and placed it back onto the topmost shelf in the corner of his room, where he knew it would always be.

To anyone else in the world, it was just a piece of paper. It was a sheet of looseleaf with words, and nothing more.

But he knew better; it was much, much more.