Hello, all! Between finals and the start of the holidays and training horses and life in general, I haven't gotten around to this fic very much—you all have my sincere apologies for that. To make up for it, I've included cute fluffy romantic moments in this chapter that will make you all want to go snuggle with a puppy. Or a small kitten. I hope. Anyways, here it is! :) Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS:LA!
Chapter Eight
"He should be here by now." Kensi said, pushing the little wire brush in and out of her Glock's barrel. She had settled down at the kitchen table to clean her gun, drawing slightly apprehensive looks from Deeks. "Don't worry—I won't shoot you. I'm not that desperate." She paused, then added, "Not yet, at least."
"Ha, ha." Deeks rolled his eyes and twitched the dirty curtains aside. A snowy vista stretched beyond the window, utterly devoid of human life. The trees were large and looming and silent, everything draped in deep quiet snow. It was unsettling, really, the utter silence. Deeks went and sat down the beat-up couch, folded his arms, then rose suddenly and commenced pacing yet again. His agitation was contagious.
"Robert Smith." Kensi broached the subject first; at the sound of their informant's name Deeks twitched.
"Something's weird about him. Really. Something's off."
"But what?" Kensi jabbed the wire brush into the barrel again.
"I don't know," Deeks said uneasily. "I can't put my finger on it."
"Yeah." Kensi agreed quietly. She finished cleaning the Glock, reloaded it, holstered. Outside, a light dusting of snow had begun to fall.
"We need more firewood." Deeks poked through their scant fuel stack—mostly smaller branches collected from the snow outside the little house. The pile had grown considerably smaller, because every night they lit a fire in the fireplace to keep the house warm, and every morning there was a lot less wood in the stack beside the front door.
"I'll help you get some." Kensi said. Deeks snickered.
"Get some firewood, Deeks. Firewood." She snapped, and shrugged on her parka. They left the house in silence, Deeks still smirking. The two agents trekked through ankle-deep snow, shivering. Wind had kicked up, chilling Kensi to the bone. She had forgotten a scarf but had (luckily) worn a lurid green woolen hat.
"It's so...quiet." Kensi whispered, hunching her shoulders against the wind. No birds sang, no small animals scurried through the brush. Kensi's thoughts were a million miles away, in Los Angeles. The quiet trails in Topanga Canyon, or the Santa Monica Mountains, where you could run for hours beneath a hot blue sky, down narrow dirt paths surrounded by squat oak trees and tangled shrubs, everything warm and smelling soothingly of sun and dirt.
"I hate this damn place." Deeks said suddenly. "Damn Alaska. Who the hell does Hetty think that we are? Jack freakin' London?"
Kensi did not reply. She had frozen, mittened hands drifting towards her gun. "Did you just—"
But before she could speak, a great force slammed Kensi sideways. She fell hard, rolling in the dirty snow. Deeks was on the ground, too, and someone was crouching over her, going for her gun.
"HEY!" Kensi screamed, her throat burning. "Stop!" She aimed a kick at her attacker—a well-aimed kick reenforced by her heavy boot. The figure yelped and staggered backwards; Kensi whipped out her gun, pointed it. A man in a ski mask—or was it a woman? She couldn't tell. The masked figure swung, catching her in the eye; blood reddened her vision. Kensi blinked it away, felt its warmth on her cheek. A sick warmth. Deeks was on his feet, grabbing the attacker from behind. They struggled—whoever this mystery-attacker was, they were good. She was about to pull the trigger, about to fell him, or her, or it, when the masked figure lunged, pushed her backwards, and sprinted away. Deeks was hot on their heels, but quickly fell behind. He returned panting and helped Kensi to her feet.
"What," Deeks queried not-so-gently, "The hell was that about?"
"I don't know." Kensi holstered her weapon, wiping blood from her eye. "But this isn't good."
"No kidding." Deeks said, and they headed back in brooding silence.
A few dozen yards until they reached the little house, and a bitter wind picked up. Kensi kept close to her partner's side, attempting to share some discreet body heat—without saying so, of course, because she was sure that Deeks would gleefully suggest another way to share body heat.
"It's freaking freezing." Deeks complained, and tugged on his hat. He had been clever enough to wear a warm scarf, but had neglected his warmest coat in favor of a thinner one. Stupid, but they hadn't expected this sudden...
Snowstorm. This sudden snowstorm. Kensi knew a brewing storm, despite having lived in sunnier climates for most of her life. This was, without a doubt, an approaching blizzard.
"Deeks," She said urgently. "Deeks, hurry up."
"What?" He froze (of course, Kensi thought angrily) and drew his gun. Assuming a stance of authority, Deeks aimed for the trees.
"Are you chasing us, you bastards? Huh?" He lifted the gun higher. "Where are they, Kenz?"
"Nowhere," Kensi grabbed his arm and began to pull him along. "Unless you're hoping to shoot out a snowstorm."
"What?" A look of panic came into Deeks' eyes. Around them, the snow was picked up by the strong, bitter wind, scooped mercilessly into whirlwinds. Kensi could barely see two feet in front of her. Her exposed skin stung horribly—like fire, she reflected. "Oh, God."
"Calm down!" Kensi ordered, sensing that Deeks was about to break into another monologue about the sheer stupidity of the Alaskan wilderness. She dragged him forwards a few yards, then froze. "Shit."
"Wow," Deeks said brightly. "You never really swear, Kensi."
"Shut up." Kensi fought off encroaching panic. "Shut up, I swear."
"What's wrong?" Deeks squinted, peering through the blizzard. "Jesus, it's freezing. This is legit."
"Deeks..." Kensi swallowed hard. Her throat felt raw. "I think we're lost. Where's the house?"
"I..." Deeks let out a funny croaking sound. "I don't know." He fell silent. Kensi's mind was going a thousand miles an hour—her father had taught her almost everything she knew about winter survival—and once, on a weekend camping trip, he had touched briefly on the subject of blizzard survival. She tried to remember.
Seek shelter. Stay dry. If you're wet, get dry. Build a fire. But how? There was no dry wood, and no matches. Nevermind, Kensi thought. Shelter would come first. She could recall her father's warm voice, his shining eyes so much like her own.
I doubt you'll ever use this, Kenz, but building a snowcave could save your life. They had been sitting around a little campfire in the mountains above Lancaster, California, a desert town. The air around them had been hotly dry, the ground dusty. Snowstorms and snowcaves and blizzards were a million miles away.
Not anymore. Kensi wasn't about to die in a blizzard, staggering through some distant, lonely backwoods. No way.
"We need to dig!" She shouted, miming digging motions at Deeks. He nodded once. He understood. Kensi was glad that at moments like this he could be half-serious—it was a useful trait.
They dug frantically, breathing hard. The snow was hard and cold, and the wind slashed at Kensi's exposed skin. She was more than relieved when their combined digging efforts turned out a little snowcave, the sort of thing MidWest schoolchildren would build on snowdays. She climbed inside, Deeks close behind, and they huddled in the cold gray darkness. Kensi became aware of tears on her cheeks. They were tears that the wind had torn from her eyes, not from sadness, but those memories of her father had brought back a certain hollow bitterness. She stared at her folded, gloved hands.
"Hey," Deeks whispered, his voice warm in her ear. "You okay?"
"I'm good, Deeks." She bit her lip. "God, for a minute there..."
"Thank the Lord for you, Kensi." Deeks grinned. "You're a genius."
"Not really."
"Without you, I'd be dead ten times over."
"Don't get too excited, Deeks." Outside the wind had picked up, was reaching some sort of freezing-cold fever pitch. "We're not out of the storm yet."
They stayed in a frozen silence for a few more minutes, and Kensi became increasingly cold. The snow cave was tiny, and ice pressed close above their heads. She shivered.
"If we die, Kensi," Deeks said, and his teeth were chattering.
"Stop," Kensi moaned, trembling.
"Hey," Deeks said, "We're gonna be okay. We've got each other."
Then he kissed her.
For a moment, they were pressed close together, forgetting the ice and the raging storm and the possibility of death. Kensi lingered in that moment—she lived in it, that glorious moment when they were together, and everything was warm and bubbly and shining. She leaned into Deeks, into his embrace, and realized that they were kissing hard.
Then they broke apart. Kensi was breathing quickly; clouds of pearly air appeared and dissipated before her face. Deeks stared at her, his gaze so intense that it was unnerving. There was a moment of tense silence, and then Kensi kissed him again. She was leaning against him, and they were miles from the snowcave, miles from the danger and the mysterious masked attackers and the fear and the long cold nights. They were living in a sunny place under blue skies, where their skin was touching and her eyes were closed and the cold was there again, pressing against her back and neck.
Kensi's hands were in Deeks's hair, and his hands tangled in her, and the snowcave was suddenly very small and open to many possibilities, none of which Kensi loved the idea of. They broke apart again, and Kensi found herself grinning.
"That," She whispered, "That was..."
They both lay silence, close together in the gray darkness. Neither spoke. There was no need for words. Outside, the storm had lessened, and a slow, sweet silence fell.
So...how did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Brought to tears by the sheer emotion that it conveyed? I jest, I jest...but if you have a superstrongneedtotellsomeone opinion about this chapter, leave it in a review! ^.^ And again...sorry that it took so darn long! :o
