A/N: Okay, so this is kind of a songfic - but that's only because I thought the words of the song fit so well. They were perfect, so I couldn't not put it in. I suppose you could see Callen/Kensi hints if you squint.
And for the record, I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or Rascal Flatts' What Hurts the Most.
REGRET
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
It's been years since I saw you, and longer still since you saw me. You were the spitfire of the team, the one who gave it life. I was the reserved, cool-headed leader, the one who was born for undercover work, but who relied on himself far too much. Sam was the muscle, the one who always had our backs. Deeks was the one we always got annoyed at, though we knew he had a good heart under his playful exterior. Eric watched over us, making sure we'd be okay. Nate was there for us when we insisted we didn't need anyone. And Hetty – well, what can I say? – she's Hetty.
That don't bother me
We haven't been the same, though, since you left us. We're missing something very important. We never replaced you, you know. None of us could stand to see anyone else at your desk, taking your place. Director Vance kept sending us agents, trying to get us to accept one- but Hetty refused them all. The few who did make it all the way to your desk were never there for long. We drove them away with distance.
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I still remember your last days with us. You smiled and told me I needed to get off my butt and find some furniture for my house. (Would you believe I'm still living in the place? I've actually got way too much junk in it now.) You jousted verbally with Deeks and flipped Sam on his back in your wrestling match. You joked with Nate and got Eric to stop talking technical. Looking back, I think we all thought you'd be with us forever. You just fit in so well.
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
The day you got shot was one of the darkest days of my life. I should've gone in the second you were compromised, even though you didn't say the safe word. Deeks thought I was taking too big a risk. He was right.
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok
But that's not what gets me
Hetty keeps saying I shouldn't blame myself. But how can I not? I was the leader; I put you on that op. I was in charge. I was responsible for you.
What hurts the most
Was being so close
It all happened so fast. One minute you were negotiating your way out, and the next you were on the floor. We moved the second the guy pulled the gun out, but we weren't fast enough. The sound of the gunshot made my blood run cold.
And having so much to say
You were still conscious when we went in. Eric called the ambulance; I was relieved when they told me the shot wasn't too bad. I didn't know then that that would be the last time I'd ever see your chocolate brown eyes. How could I? The doctors said you should be okay.
And watching you walk away
And you would've been too, if there hadn't been a complication with the surgery. The doctors didn't know what went wrong – I sure as hell don't. They told us you were in a coma and all we could do was hope you'd wake up.
And never knowing
What could have been
We hoped, Kenz, we really did. We kept telling ourselves you were so strong it'd be impossible for you not to pull through. And for a while we believed it.
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
But then the days turned into weeks, and we lost that belief. We started praying like mad for a miracle. I prayed the hardest.
It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
I promise you, Kensi, we did everything we could not to stop hoping. You know that saying, "When you lose hope you've lost everything"? We tried to keep that in mind. Nate even wrote it up in big block letters and pinned it up on your desk so we wouldn't forget to keep hoping.
But I'm doing it
But then the weeks turned into months, and you still wouldn't wake up Slowly, we stopped daring to believe you'd come back to us. Eventually we lost hope altogether. By then three months had passed us by. Isn't it sad that we could only hope for three months?
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone
It still took us another month to decide to take you off life support. Don't get me wrong – we'd stopped hoping, but we just couldn't bring ourselves to take that final step. It would've cut too keen, made it too real.
Still harder: getting up, getting dressed, living with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
In the end, the doctors approached us, saying they couldn't keep using funds to keep a lost cause alive. I wanted to punch them – you weren't a lost cause. Not by far. But I didn't really believe that.
I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
We knew it was logical. We knew it was the right thing to do. We weren't being fair trying to keep you when you were supposed to be somewhere else. I know you wanted to come back, but I guess Heaven needed its own little spitfire. Why else would there have been a "complication"?
What hurts the most
Was being so close
It was the hardest decision any of us has ever had to make, and I still regret it. What if you'd been only two days away from coming back? I knew it was highly improbable, but I couldn't help thinking about it. I guess I still had some hope left.
And having so much to say
Whatever small belief I still had, it died with you – it was lost forever when I heard the flatline of your heart monitor. I swear that was the first time I cried since I had to leave my first foster home.
And watching you walk away
It was four months from the day you were shot to the day we finally let you go. Four months – but it felt like four years. Everything changed – nothing's been the same since. I know it sounds cliché, but it's the truth.
And never knowing
What could have been
And now, three years to the day since you were shot, I'm alone in my house writing this letter to you. The others don't even register this date anymore – they only remember the day we pulled the plug on you. In another four months I'll be writing another letter, and they'll join me this time – it's sort of become a tradition by now, since we know how much you loved letters. But they don't remember this day. Only I do – because I was the one who got you shot. I shouldn't have assigned you to that stupid op. The others don't notice this day because it's not their fault you're gone.
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
God, Kensi, I'd give anything to be able to see your eyes again. The day you were shot was the last day I saw them. Every time I visited you in the hospital I wished with everything I had that you'd open your eyes – but when they closed that day they closed for the last time. I can't see your eyes anymore, Kensi, and that hurts.
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
It sucks that I can only think of you two days in a year now because you aren't around to pull my attention to you anymore. It sucks that whenever I think of you I have to remember how you were taken from us. It sucks that I have to recall that it's my fault you're not with us anymore.
And never knowing
What could have been
But I'll take what I can get, because this is the only chance I have to remember you – and to apologize for my horrendous mistake. On these two days, the lines between the past and the present blur and I can pretend that you can hear me writing all this to you. I can pretend you'll get my letter.
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
I'm sorry, Kensi. I'm so, so sorry. And I wish to God I had never put you on that op.
Not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do