I don't even know what possessed me to write this. Maybe it's the fact that I'm a little addicted to writing these sorts of stories. Reviews are always appreciated, even if they are just to tell me how much you hate me after this.
Chapter two is sort of an alternate ending which goes after the ending in chapter one. I wasn't quite sure which ending I wanted, so I figured this way you can either leave it with the ending it has here or read the second ending.
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS LA or any of the characters... and after this fic I don't think I'll be getting them for Christmas.
Hetty Lange had many regrets when it came to her life, many of which came from her professional life, but she still couldn't help the feeling of failure that came with each new regret.
"Please make the necessary arrangements to bring Agent Blye home."
They were the words that Deeks had been waiting so long to here. He wasn't eavesdropping exactly, but he couldn't help hearing as he walked past Hetty's desk. He stopped, turning around as Hetty put down the phone. A huge grin spread across his face; he couldn't help it. Hetty's face was carefully schooled to be unreadable, but Deeks had enough excitement for the pair of them.
"I take it you heard the end of my conversation, Mr Deeks," Hetty said in her usual firm tone. Deeks was about to explain when he was cut off.
"I was going to tell you at the same time as the others, but I think you need to hear it first. Take a seat."
Deeks did as he was told and sat down across from the older woman who most of the agents viewed as a surrogate mother. The feelings weren't one way either.
He practically had to stop himself from bouncing out of his seat with excitement, knowing that Hetty would tell him what he needed to know in her own time.
"As you know, Mr Deeks, Ms Blye was sent on a very dangerous and highly classified assignment in Afghanistan. She was needed for her superior skills. Her objective was to kill a man known as the White Ghost," Hetty began. Deeks nodded, wishing that she would hurry up and tell him when his Kensalina would be home.
"It was never my intention to cause problems in your relationship with Ms Blye, but she was needed overseas, and from the looks of things you both needed some time apart to sort out your feelings," she continued, her expression still unreadable. Deeks nodded again to show he was still following. Though he was initially upset when he had found out Hetty was the one to make the decision to send Kensi away, none of that really seemed to matter now that she was on her way home.
"They tailed the White Ghost for many weeks. Just as they were about to strike and kill him, they were ambushed by some of his accomplices. They were outnumbered, but Ms Blye still managed to get a clean shot and kill the White Ghost."
Deeks found himself beginning to worry a little. It didn't sound like a good situation, she would probably have some injuries from it, but she was tough and Deeks knew she could get through it. Plus, she was coming home. He would help her through whatever damage she had sustained during this assignment. They would get through it together.
"But, Hetty, when's she going to be back?" Deeks asked, deciding that if Hetty wasn't going give him an answer, he would ask her for it straight up. Hetty sighed, taking a moment to compose her features before looking up at her young liaison. He didn't deserve to hear this, but if he had to, which he did, he deserved to hear it the right way: from her.
"Her body will be on the next flight back."
Deeks sat there for a moment in shock. He couldn't have heard her right. Her body? But Kensi was coming back, his Kensi, not just her body.
"I'm sorry, Mr Deeks," Hetty said honestly. "She was shot in the back of the head; dead instantly."
Dead instantly. There were no last words for him, no goodbye, no last sentimental messages. Nothing. Feeling the tears welling up in his eyes, he stood up walked out of OSP. Hetty let him go; he would need some time to process what she had just told him. The questions from Sam and Callen as he passed the bullpen were not enough to make him stop. He just continued walking, ignoring them and heading outside.
Shot in the back of the head. Who had she had watching her back? Did she have anyone? Clearly, if she did, they didn't do a very good job. He wished he had been there to watch out for her. He had promised that he would always have her back and then look what happened as soon as he wasn't there. She'd made him promise that he wouldn't get himself killed. He'd never made her promise the same. He couldn't help wondering that if he'd made her make that promise in return that she might still be here.
...
"She was my partner, my best friend, and at the end she was something more. I spent so long trying to convince myself that we didn't have 'a thing' – our thing – and I spent almost as long trying to convince her that we did, even if I wasn't quite aware I was doing it at the start. We argued, a lot. Sometimes I wondered if we would ever be able to agree on anything."
The audience chuckled a little as Deeks smiled fondly at his memories.
"But we were good together. She was a damn good shot and a fantastic agent, which is lucky because if she wasn't I probably wouldn't be here right now. I could always trust that she would have my back, and I think, I hope, she felt the same way. If I'd..."
He couldn't go there. This was neither the time nor the place for what ifs. This was the time to remember Kensi. Her funeral. He took a moment to look around the audience. He could see Callen and Sam sitting in the front row. Kensi's mother sat a couple of seats down from them. The others from work sat together a few rows back. Hetty stood up the back. Deeks wasn't completely sure, but he thought he could see a few tears staining her cheeks. There were quite a few people here, more than he had thought Kensi knew, but he was the one up here talking about their memories. He was the one, her one.
"We were only together for less than a day, but it was the best day of my life. Every day I spent with her was special, even if we were just sitting at work doing paperwork or undercover together off chasing criminals or having a movie night on the couch."
He took a deep breath.
"Kensi Marie Blye was a very special woman, and I loved her."
He realised that that was the first time he had said those words out loud.
"I love her," he corrected.
Feeling the tears welling up in his eyes, he decided that this was as good a place as any to finish his speech. He hadn't prepared anything when he had been asked to talk at her funeral, he couldn't. Instead he had just spoken from the heart.
He stepped out from behind the podium and made his way back to his seat in between Callen and Kensi's mother. This was hardly the situation that he had imagined saying those three words for the first time, but it felt good to say them. He hoped that wherever Kensi was, if she was out there in some sort of afterlife, she felt those words.
...
They told him the hearse was nearly ready to leave. He nodded. Hetty asked if he would like a moment alone with Kensi's body. He nodded. Sam told him they would be right outside if he needed them. He nodded. It seemed all he could do was nod. Then he was left alone with the casket. Kensi's casket. The top half of the box was open, exposing her lifeless body to his eyes.
"Hey, Ke..." he began. He couldn't say her name. It hurt too much. He'd been expecting to have a serious conversation with her about their 'thing' when she returned, but nothing like this. He tried again.
"I'm going to call you Fern, okay?"
Unlike the first time, he was asking her permission to use this nickname. She didn't reply.
"Hey, Fern. It's me. Deeks."
He paused for a moment, realising how silly he sounded.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he continued, scoffing a little at himself. "Right now you'd probably say something along the lines of 'of course it's you, Deeks. Who else would be stupid enough to try to have a conversation with a body?' and then you'd laugh and say 'touché' and it would absolutely be the wrong time to use it, but I'd still laugh because that's just one of the things I love about you."
He thought back over all the times she had misused the word 'touché' and his efforts to teach her the proper context to use it in. He couldn't help chuckling softly.
"You know what? I'll give you that. Touché, Fern. Touché."
He found himself having to pause again, taking a moment to gather himself. The laughter had died out on his lips and the tears were threatening to return, but there was still a small fond smile that graced his features.
"How did we end up like this?" he asked, wishing desperately. "One day you asked me to promise that I'd never get myself killed. And I promised. I should have made you promise the same, but I didn't. Is it too late for me to ask that of you?"
As he asked it, he knew deep down in his heart that he was right. It was too late.
"I don't know if that promise still stands..." continued Deeks. "I don't know what to do now. We never really discussed what would happen if..."
Deeks had to pause again. He wished she were here to cheer him up. She would know just what to say to get rid of the tears. He knew he didn't have long until they took her off to the crematorium. Kensi's will specified that she wished to be cremated. It was so typical of her. She wanted to go out in flames. So this was it; this was his goodbye.
"I meant what I said before. I do love you. I just wish I'd had the courage to tell you before it was too late. Can I ask you something now? Come back to me? Please come back to me, Fern."
He was literally begging her now. The tears could no longer be kept at bay. He needed her back. There was so much that was left unsaid between them, so much left for them to do. He needed her. If he thought it would work, he would get down on his knees and plead with her to come back. But it wouldn't work. He sensed the presence of someone at the door. He knew his time with her was nearly up.
He leant down to gently press him lips to her cold forehead.
"Goodbye, Fern," he whispered.
Deeks turned and walked away. He didn't look back. He couldn't.