The car door slammed against the frame as Kensi slid into the driver's seat, frustrated by her lack of success. A pad a paper sat next to her, covered in her neat, tiny scrawl, before she lifted it into her lap and crossed another name off the list. Jack's college roommate was next to no help, and to top it off, he didn't seem to understand that she had no interest in him, especially not after hearing all of his cheesy pick up lines. Like the three others that she'd visited before him, he hadn't heard from Jack in years and couldn't remember any places that may have been special to him. The skills that she'd developed as an NCIS agent were failing her now, as the standard form for an investigation had turned up no results.

Her day off was starting out poorly, which was a shame because she'd gone through an extremely awkward conversation with Hetty to earn it. Though, if the older woman was suspicious, she hid it well, which Kensi appreciated.

"Please allow me to wrap my head around this, Miss Blye. You would like to take the day off?"

Though problematic, the Operations Manager's incredulity had been understandable. Since the start of her NCIS career, Kensi had never willingly called in sick before, instead preferring to work as long as she could before Hetty or Callen put a foot down and sent her home. For her to start now must be concerning to say the least, especially after the disaster the day before had turned out to be.

"Yes."

"But you are not ill?"

Hesitating slightly, Kensi had bitten her bottom lip before answering cautiously. "No."

"That is very strange," Hetty admitted, seeming bewildered, even over the phone. Kensi could have pictured blue eyes widening behind thick glass, making Hetty look deceptively surprised. To those that knew her long enough, it was obvious that she was rarely startled, and when she was, it never showed.

"I hear it's called a personal day," she said lightly, "Apparently, they're pretty common."

"If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow, Agent Blye. Enjoy your personal day."

After taking care of that, the agent had gone on to search for Jack, who had still not returned even after the sun came up. As she got into her car, Kensi had promised herself that when this was all over, she was going to sleep for three days straight to make up for all the lost rest. It had only taken her a few minutes to notice a odd rattling noise coming from the passenger door and frown thoughtfully. When she reached down to explore the pocket, she startled and pulled her hand back after something jabbed her palm. After pulling it up to examine it, she discovered a GPS tracker. Standard NCIS issued. Her phone had rung almost immediately after she flicked it out the open window and watched as it was crushed under the front tire of a passing Sedan.

The voice that greeted her was as close to panicked as she'd ever heard it, and for a moment Kensi had almost felt bad. At least, she did until she remembered that he'd been treating her like an errant teenager and tracking her without her knowledge.

She'd made a weak attempt to tamper down her irritation before answering her phone, but it apparently wasn't effective because her words came out as a sharp bark. "You're slipping, Callen. You didn't think to secure it so the noise wouldn't clue me in?"

"If I took any longer, you were going to catch on," he'd defended, sounding equal parts affronted and relieved, probably glad to hear that she wasn't crushed on the side of the road like his GPS tracker. "I took a risk."

"It didn't pan out," she'd ground out through her teeth, wishing that he wouldn't be so flippant about the situation. "Did you ever consider just trusting me?"

"Not once. You wouldn't either. Not if it was one of us."

That was mostly true, if she thought about it. She wasn't being treated any differently than the rest if the team would be if they were in her situation. It was just frustrating to be on the receiving end of their overbearing concern. "I'm fine, Callen."

"Any chance of you telling me where you are?"

The words had only been half out of his mouth before her cell phone battery was on the floor, separated from the phone with a flick of her wrist and a roll of her eyes.

Now, hours later when the streetlights had switched on and the sun was barely visible over the horizon, she was coming up empty handed and ready to throw in the towel. Several visits to an aunt, a grandfather, and an older brother had revealed that Jack was officially off the grid, again. No one had the slightest clue where he might have gone, which would have normally panicked her, had she not decided to pretend that this was just another case, one that had no bearing on her personal life. So far, the pretending game was getting old fast and she was running out of steam.

Instinct controlled her movements now, her mind slipping back to almost six years ago when she and Jack were still close. There were a few places that they frequented, back when she still actually had a social life. Most weren't local, though they were in the same state, and Jack was without a vehicle, so chances were good that he would have stayed in the area. He'd proposed to her in a diner that was a few blocks away from their old apartment. That was next on her list, after she paid a visit to the park near the airport that they'd stopped in after he'd returned home. The place was pretty much deserted all the time, not having any real playground equipment, but it was unusually comforting to the couple. There they'd made the last happy memories that they had together before Jack was diagnosed, and they'd frequently gone back when he was well enough to pretend that everything was alright.

When she pulled into the parking lot, Kensi could see Jack's form on one of the benches and sucked in a breath. After all the time she'd spent searching, it set her a little off balance to realize that she'd actually found him, something that she hadn't been able to do after he left the first time.

The man must have seen her car, he was sitting directly across the park and facing her, but made no move. Taking that as a good sign, she slipped out the car and started towards him, thrilled when he didn't show any signs of running again.

"Took you long enough," he said quietly, when she sat down next to him. "Are we going home?"

Had Deeks not built up her tolerance for comments like that, Jack would be incapacitated on the sidewalk by now.

"Yes," she agreed weakly, resisting the urge to throw her hands in the air in frustration, "We can go home."

If he said anything other than some variation of yes dear, she may just kill him.

"I drive," he said finally, moving to take the keys out of her hand.

Close enough.

It was a bad habit that she remembered from when they were dating, his insistence on always being behind the wheel, and it was one of the few things that they frequently fought about. Now, she had become accustomed to automatically driving, the rest of her team mates being too frightened of her to tell her no, but if he was willing to come with her, she'd take what she could get.

The paper with her list from earlier flew to the floor when she brushed it off the passenger seat to make room for herself. Jack was being shockingly compliant so far, but he did shoot a befuddled look at the cell phone that was still laying on the floor, battery long gone and probably stuck under the seat. When they were on the road again, hopefully going back to her home, the marine finally said something of value and tried to explain himself.

"I needed time, Kens. I had to think."

"Had to run off a hangover, too," she countered, slouching in her seat. His reflection in the window showed his wince, but Kensi was far from caring.

Being the passenger for once must be more disconcerting than she expected because it seemed that Jack was swerving slightly, unable to keep the car going in a straight line. Her eyes shut tight as she breathed deeply and kept herself from snatching the wheel out of his hand.

"Would you at least go the speed limit?"

Jacks eyes rolled slightly, and for a moment Kensi thought they were going to relive the many arguments that they'd had over her tendency to be a backseat driver.

"There's no one on the road, we're fine."

That simply wasn't true. There was something about his tone that made her glance at him, really seeing him for the first time since he'd left the house the day before. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair disheveled. More than just stress, or a hangover, or PTSD. His fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel, which was clutched loosely in one hand.

"Jack, pull over."

He wasn't drunk. He couldn't be. There was no amount of alcohol in the world that would make his stupid enough to drive on the freeway while he was drunk. As much as she kept telling herself that, Kensi couldn't pretend that she didn't notice the swerving. "Now, Jack. Pull over, now."

"Would you get off my back?"

It was possible that she could have talked him down if she'd had more time, however nothing she could have said would have kept them from drifting out of the passing lane and into the path of an oncoming SUV.

Kensi wished that she would have left the GPS tracker in the car when the sound of metal crunching reached her ears as the passenger door was demolished.