Lost chances

Hey guys! I'm back after almost a year of not writing at all. I'm on my first vacation of my first year of studying medicine, and am finding that I have completely lost the ability to relax. So I thought, "What did I used to do before matric and university?", and I remembered that I used to spend quite a bit of time writing here! Haha, anyway, since this is the first fic I'm writing in a long, long time, I'm a bit timid in posting it. Please be kind.

Also, I haven't actually seen this ep, since South Africa is a bit behind in the screening. But my weakness for Youtube previews and reading ahead on Fanfic gave me the basic idea of it… So I apologize for any mistakes. But I decided that if I'm gonna get back into this, I should probably start with something I'm most comfortable with, and that's angst. And there isn't a better inspiration for a Densi angst fic than this right now!

Summary:

"That's why I was crying. Why I am crying. Why I can't freaking stop crying. I guess… I guess I'm crying over what could've been. What might not happen now? I guess I'm crying because everything has changed now. Everything has changed in a bad way, right before things could've changed in the best way…" Densi romance/angst, post Descent. Sam/Kensi friendship

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. All the characters belong to someone else, I'm just borrowing them.

It was already dark outside Deeks' hospital room window when Kensi woke up. She blinked for a few moments and re-orientated herself; the room itself was dark, but there was a faint yellow glow coming from the window, indicating that while her world was temporarily stalled, Los Angeles was still very much alive. That and the blue-and-red lights and numbers on the LCD screens of the machines attached to her partner. There didn't seem to be any change in his condition that prompted her sudden startled waking; the steady, monotonous beeping indicated no distress of any kind. She, on the other hand, had a decidedly horrific crick in her neck from sleeping upright in the unforgiving, ergonomically unsound hospital chair. She had been waiting here by his bedside since he had been placed in the room, and it had been two days now. Two days of the same stale clothes, staler hospital coffee and grasping his hand, trying to will away the tears. Kensi Blye was not an emotional person. But these couple of days… She just kept replaying the images in her mind, as if they were on a loop in her head.

X

They burst into the building with guns raised. She kicked in the door with an energy that was definitely angry, and ignored the concerned glances of the backup. Her heartbeat was deafening to her own ears, and there was a strange, nervous knot in her stomach that she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Bad ass Blye was scared.

They saw Sam first, tied to a chair, and as Callen started working on his ties he indicated with an uncharacteristically defeated look towards the next room. She rushed towards the door; the glass was paled and dirty, but before she had even opened the door, she saw his silhouette lying there on the floor.

X

She will probably never be completely rid of the horrifying image of finding him lying there.

His face was so swollen, especially around his jaw, and his mouth was bloody and open. And the whole time that she was there next to him on the dirty, blood-stained floor of Sidirov's hide-out, holding his hand, begging him to hold on, promising the ambulance was moments away, she couldn't stop imagining his smile. That sunny, slightly crooked, cheeky little smile of his, that reached his bright blue eyes, displayed his white teeth so brilliantly, and lit up any room he was in. It always made her knees embarrassingly weak when he flashed that smile at her. And more than once she had to quickly look away to hide the girlish blush on her cheeks to avoid his teasing. And sometimes it was more of a smirk than a smile… Then it made an irrational anger bubble up inside of her, and flushed her cheeks for seemingly no reason.

Though as magnificent as they were, Marty Deeks' smiles will never compare to another incident concerning his lips just recent…

Kensi closed her eyes in an attempt to dispel the warm moisture threatening to spill from her eyes. Her free hand reached up and she touched her lips with her fingertips, feeling the skin there tingle at the memory of his kiss.

When she started the argument about communication, she... she doesn't know what she had hoped for. Change, maybe. It had been a long time coming, their unmentionable thing, and as time was passing it was reaching an inevitable climax. It was getting harder and harder to deny that there was something more than a partnership or friendship between them. Yes, she had been jealous of Monica. Rather obviously so. She was embarrassed of her lack of subtlety during that op.

Perhaps the deepest, most hidden girly part of her was wishing for a confession of love. And admission on his part, affirming that he was feeling it too. That he loved her as she loved him. That there were no other girls, no other yoga bunnies or Nicoles or Monicas, that he wanted. Even though she was too scared to admit it…

Well, the reaction she had gotten...

Even though she knew she was just torturing herself by replaying the memory over and over, and that she should stop it already, she couldn't help remembering the feeling of his lips on hers again. So warm and full and tender and tentative; that kiss spoke words she had never expected from him, elicited feelings she didn't know she could feel anymore… And it left her completely and utterly speechless. Sitting here for two days straight, she couldn't stop thinking about how stupid she had been. She shouldn't have just run off after Michelle and left it unfinished and raw like that. She shouldn't have ignored him all the time after that, too scared to respond. And damn it, she should've kissed him back!

Because now, sitting here, she knows that she might've lost the opportunity she had secretly yearned for, for all of two years, forever.

A few hours into waiting for Deeks to wake up, Hetty had shown up in his doorway. She was wearing a stark black and pants suit that reminded Kensi of a funeral, and made her irrationally angry and teary.

X

"Miss Blye."

Kensi swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded as means of a greeting.

"The doctors aren't expecting Mister Deeks to wake up tonight; he is still heavily under the influence on some rather potent pain medication. It might be a few days, even."

"I know." She nodded, but her eyes were now locked on her and Deeks' interlaced fingers and they weren't budging.

"Personally," Hetty said in that quiet knowing way of hers. "I would suggest that you go home tonight. Shower, eat, sleep… Come back tomorrow, well-rested. Mister Deeks will not appreciate you abusing yourself."

"With all due respect, Hetty, I prefer to stay here. I'm just fine. I've eaten." She lied. One of the nurses, thinking she was a wife or girlfriend no doubt, had brought her some weak, sweet tea from the coffee cart a while back, but the Styrofoam cup was still half-full of ice cold liquid now on Deeks' bedside table. That had been the most she had taken in since Deeks and Sam were declared missing.

Hetty was no doubt not fooled, but she had nodded. And then the inevitable speech happened; the speech she had expected when she saw the diminutive figure, because there was no way that all-knowing Hetty had not noticed the change in relationship lately.

"Mister Deeks… having gone through what he had gone through-"

Kensi looked up, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but Hetty had raised a finger and stilled her.

"I am aware that there has been a shift and Mister Deeks and yours relationship. A shift that has been coming on for a long time, and that is somewhat overdue. But I'm sure you realize that in light of these recent events… When Mister Deeks wakes up, he will be facing a long period of psychological stress. He will no doubt need some professional help, and a lot of time before he feels normal again. If ever; I have seen many fall over less. And he will need all our love and support. And he will need you – he will need his best friend."

A couple of moments of silence passed as Kensi let the words sink in. She had been thinking them, but way too scared to believe them. They were harder to ignore now, coming from someone else.

"He'll need his best friend." Kensi said; her voice was huskier and rougher than she expected, and the emotion within it almost startled her. "And he wouldn't need any more… Kensi-Deeks-thing drama."

It had hurt her to say it, but she knew it was true. And Hetty had just nodded, and disappeared like a ghost into the disinfectant-scented halls of the hospital.

X

It was a painful truth, but the truth none the less. Deeks faces an enormous load of stress when he wakes up; he will not need any more. He would need normal – joking Kensi-and-Deeks; eating burgers and drinking beer and watching Top Model Kensi-and-Deeks; repressing sexual tension and flirting incessantly as if it's enough Kensi-and-Deeks.

She, more than anyone, knew that PTSD needed stability and a sense of normalcy in order to heal. And for Deeks, with no family, few real friends, and a job as unstable as theirs is, he didn't need the one stable relationship in his lifeto change right now as well.

And as much as Kensi was absolutely willing to swallow her tears and put what she wanted to the side to help her partner, best friend, and… whatever, move on from this horrible situation, she couldn't shake the fear that it would mean that their one chance would been completely obliterated.

More than two years they had danced around the line of friends and more. They had flirted shamelessly, had countless tensely romantic moments, shared 'cover'-kisses, and never pursued anything more, fearing change.

And now…

Kensi knew that the Deeks who will wake up won't be the Deeks she had known before. And she found herself terrified that, after dealing with the trauma and psychological scars of being tortured, Deeks won't want to-… be able to… try.

And she wanted to try.

After more than two years of denying it so fervently, she was finally ready to admit that she, Kensi Blye, was ready, willing and wanting to try and have something more with Marty Deeks. Warm, rebellious tears streamed down her face unchallenged, and she let the sobs wrack her freely. It flashed before her eyes: the life they could've had, had they – she – not been so damn stubborn, so damn stupid. A white picket fence around a big house in the suburbs, with a doggie door in the front door and a big yard with ridiculously green grass, cause he'd get into stupid competitions with the neighbours. Kids running around, two boys and a girl, playing with the dog; they'd be blonde, like him, with her eyes, and his-... his smile. And he'd love them so much, and be great with them. And she'd be scared at first, but he'd hold her hand through all the hard parts and whisper in her ear how he wouldn't have any other mother for his children. His little mutant ninja assassins. And she'd love it too, and be better than she thought.

Kensi was startled from her fantasy, when she heard the door opening. She looked up and saw Sam standing in the doorway; he was wearing a hospital gown and had a drip-stand beside him with a bag of saline attached to his arm. It looked a little odd, impressive, formidable Sam in the little blue dress-like outfit, and the pitiful look on his face. She clawed at her face, drying to wipe away the tears and somehow undo their existence. She hated looking weak in front of anyone; especially when they were wearing that look on their face.

"Kens?"

"What?" It came out harshly, and she regretted it a little a moment after. Sam either didn't notice her tone, or wasn't bothered by it.

"It's well past 3 am. You're awake." He stated.

"So are you."

"Couldn't sleep." He shrugged. "Thought I'd-…"

He thought he'd come here and sit beside Deeks' bed and torture himself. Same as her. Kensi knew it, and he knew she did too. For a couple of moments it was completely silent in the room, save for the beep-beeping of Deeks' monitor. Then Sam slowly waddled towards her; the wheels on his drip-stand squeeked harshly in the silence. He pulled a chair from seemingly nowhere and placed it beside her by Deeks' bedside, and another few minutes of silence passed.

Sam broke the silence. "This is my fault."

Kensi didn't look away; her eyes were still locked onto their hands. But her voice was softer, sadder, when she answered this time. "It's not, Sam…"

"No, it was. He was-… he was hurt like this because he refused to give up my wife, to give up Michelle. He did it for me, I swear Kensi… They called him weak, said he'd be easier to break than me, but the things they-… But he just wouldn't let up. He just kept saying he didn't know, he was a Narcotics officer, he didn't know… His screams…" Sam's hands went to his face. "I had treated him so badly, Kens. All this time, I was always giving him shit. Just the same as Sidirov… And still, he-… He still didn't say anything, despite-…"

Kensi just nodded, and kept nodding. She didn't know how else to react to this. Heart-to-hearts were never her forte.

"I don't blame you, Sam." She uttered. "And he wouldn't. You shouldn't either." She let out a long, shaky breath. "He was-… he was doing his job. He'd have done it in any circumstances. He's good like that. Brave like that. And a lot better than we give him credit for."

Sam didn't reply. After a couple of moments of further silence, and hesitation on Kensi's part, she let go of Deeks' hand and let her shaky fingers take Sam's large, slightly damp hand.

"I'm serious though." Her voice was softer now. "You should abusing yourself over it."

At the contact and her words, he looked up.

"I could say the same to you. You couldn't have prevented this, Kens."

Kensi sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's not why I was-..." She wiped away another rebellious tear from the corner of her eye with some annoyance. "Why I am crying. Why I can't freaking stop crying." With a teary chuckle. Sam reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a tissue for her, gently wiping the tear streaks from her cheeks. He had a gentle, inquisitive look on his face that prompted her to continue. "I guess… I guess I'm crying over what could've been. What might not happen now? I don't know… I guess I'm crying because everything has changed now. Between me and Deeks… Because everything has changed in a bad way, right before things could've changed in the best way…" She took another tissue and blew her nose. "He kissed me on the hilltop, Sam. And I ran away, after Michelle and left it just like that. Because I was stupid and scared and stubborn and… I don't know why. Maybe just out of habit. I'm so used to denying it. And now-…" Unused to feeling so weak, Kensi looked away, letting her tangled dark hair act as a curtain to shield her face from Sam's view. And, feeling desperate for the now-familiar comfort of Deeks' warm, slightly crooked fingers tangeled with hers, Kensi's hand found its way back to Deeks', and she squeezed tight.

The great thing about Sam was that, contrary to his formidable appearance and stature, the man was sensitive enough to know when it was better to keep quiet. He slowly and softly pulled Kensi into a gentle hug, slung one of his large arms around her shoulder, and let her cry. They sat like that for a long while, a long while after Kensi's tears had dried up.

Sam and Kensi fell asleep in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, side by side.

I know this was a bit of a depressing fic, but as I've said, I'm still getting back into writing from a looooooong hiatus, I'd figure I'd stick with the angst – how unfortunate is it that that's the genre I'm most comfortable with? Anway, please be gentle when reviewing, I am still trying to regain confidence in writing again.

Much love, Zanny