Author's Note: Another delay, still more real life, still no one paying me to write Densi. That seems so unfair, doesn't it? Shouldn't we all be paid to write Densi? :)
Almost to the end of this one, and it has been a real labor of love. I've spent more time thinking about this one than any fic I've ever written, so I suppose that's a good thing. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. :)
And as always, thanks so much for for the all the feedback-so many reviews, alerts, and favorites. My first 100 review fic EVER. You guys are awesome!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. STILL. Darn it.
"I used to come to your house sometimes. Play poker with the boys. With your dad. At least, I did right up until I had to kill him."
Kensi watched Castille approach her, unable to look away. Unable to think of grabbing her gun or taking him down or any of the other things a tiny voice in her mind was screaming at her to do. Instead she stood, frozen in shock and disbelief. After all these years and all the time and energy she'd put into finding her father's murderer, to have him thrown at her now had just about taken her breath away.
Callen was moving sluggishly, and Castille grabbed Kensi's arm roughly. "Why don't we take a little walk? You can make this easy on me and just come along quietly. Or you can make it hard," he gestured at Callen, "and I put a bullet through his brain."
Kensi shook her head. "No, please, don't do that. I'll come."
"Before we go, let's just get rid of this, shall we?" Reaching behind Kensi, he removed the gun from her holster and tossed it several feet away. Then he grabbed her roughly, pushing the gun into her upper arm hard enough to leave a bruise. "Now. Come on."
He pushed her in front of him, and then began prodding her in the back with the gun. I'm going to be black and blue before this is over. She knew the thought was irrelevant. A few bruises were nothing new, and given the severity of the situation they hardly mattered anyway. But it was far easier to focus on the trivial than it was to understand that she was about to die by the same hand that had ended her father's life.
She trudged along through the trees and greenery, following a path barely visible in the lush vegetation. Castille clearly knew where he was going. Some stubborn spark inside her was telling her to fight back, take him down. She'd taken down bigger men than him before. And then she heard a voice that she hadn't heard in many years, a voice she'd almost forgotten. Come on, Kensi, don't let him do this to you, her father whispered in her ear. Don't let him do to you what he did to me. If he kills you, no one will ever know that he killed me.
And just like that, her heart began to pump again, and strength began to flow back to her limbs. The agent took over, and the lost little girl let her. And Kensi began to plan.
"How did you know it was me?" Her dad was still with her. That's it. Keep him talking.
"I didn't. Not at first. But when your friend showed up and called you 'Kensi'….well, it's not exactly a common name now, is it?" He laughed a little. "That took me back, it did. I started remembering that Joseph Blye had had a daughter, a little dark-haired thing named Kensi. And I decided maybe it wasn't just a fluke that a bubble-headed ditz named Julie had a guy call her Kensi not long after we moved our operation from Pendleton to the big island. After all, it was the middle of a big move that clued your father in to what we were doing." Kensi tensed, shoulders tightening, and Castille must have noticed. "Didn't know that, did you? Things were chaotic, everyone was stressed, and lips got a little loose. Someone blabbed a few too many times, and your father caught wind of what was going on."
"And he tried to stop you."
"He was a fool," sneered Castille, and Kensi felt her heart crack a little. "Thought being his friend meant more than the money. Nothing means more than the money. He figured out who the leadership was, took us all out for drinks. Tried to talk to us about doing the right thing. As if that mattered compared to the money we were bringing in by doing a little outside-the-books importing and shipping."
"So you killed him for the money?" Kensi came to a sudden stop, ignoring the sharp poke in her shoulder blade from Castille's gun. She turned to face him. "You're telling me that my dad…." she took a deep breath, "my dad's death was about money?"
"Money makes the world go 'round, baby girl."
And at that—at his casual dismissal of her father's brutal murder coupled with his use of her dad's pet name for her—at that, she let rage take over. Not the fiery intensity and impulsivity that normally overtook her during times of stress and danger. This was cold and icy, deadly and deliberate. She knew he was going to die. Without another word, she turned and began plodding back along the trail, her mind active as she contemplated and discarded ideas for how she was going to kill this bastard.
Deeks skidded to a stop as he pushed into the clearing. Kensi and Castille were gone, which was only what he expected. But Callen was still there, trying to push himself into a sitting position. His shoulder was bleeding steadily by the looks of it, and Deeks forced himself to approach. He wanted to be running, moving, finding Kensi and Castille.
"Deeks. Status?" Sam's voice filtered through their earwigs, and Callen turned and saw Deeks approaching.
"Don't worry about me." His voice was low and pain-filled but firm. "Find Kensi. Castille took her northwest." He nodded his head in towards the far end of the clearing. "They're only a few minutes ahead of you." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. "Deeks…find them soon. Kensi…she needs you."
"Sam, I'm going after Kensi. Callen's been shot."
"I'm almost there." Sam had heard Callen's words. "You go on."
And with one last look at the wounded team leader, Deeks went after his partner.
The path widened eventually, and Kensi stumbled out of the vegetation of the forest into a well-kept little yard bordering a small wooden house with a wrap-around porch. She thought she could take him when they started up the steps, but he prodded her around back instead.
"Not in my house," he said. "Out back."
He continued to push her around the side of the house. The backyard opened onto a magnificent view. "Like it?" he said, voice as cordial and friendly as if he'd invited her over for drinks. "I bought this place for a song. Short sale. But when I saw this view, I knew it was for me."
She stopped in the middle of the lawn. Several yards in front of them, the lawn disappeared entirely, and beyond that was ocean and sunset as far as the eye could see. "Pretty good digs for a murderer," she said, turning to look out at the water. "And the view is great."
"I'm glad you think so, since it's the last thing you're ever going to see." He chuckled. "You know, I'm almost glad this happened. I hate to leave anything unfinished. I came looking for you that night. The night I did your dad."
"I was out," she muttered through stiff lips. "I was at the movies."
"Just as well for you," he said genially. "Got you a few extra years. What'd you end up doing with yourself?"
"I spend my time taking down scumbags like you," she said, turning away from the view to face him.
"Police?" He shook his head. "I should have guessed, as straight-laced as your dad was. He should have been an MP."
"NCIS," she corrected.
"So NCIS caught on to our little operation." He shrugged. "We've picked up and moved on before. We'll do it again. Too many people involved for it to disappear just because you caught a couple of the minor operators. Of course, we can't risk having the murder of an NCIS agent involved. Which is why this is going to look like a terrible accident." Taking her elbow, he began pulling her towards the edge of the yard, which Kensi could now see ended in a steep drop off to some sixty feet or so below. "Or at least they'll never be able to prove any different."
Time to do something, baby girl. Throw him off his game.
"Your brother's dead." The words were blunt, intentionally so. Castille stopped in his tracks, and Kensi moved quickly, throwing her elbow into his gut and reaching out to grasp the wrist of his gun hand and draw it down over her upraised knee hard enough to bruise bone. The gun flew from his grasp, landing a couple of feet away from the edge of the cliff. Castille reached out with his free hand and grabbed her ponytail, yanking with enough force that her head went back so far she lost her balance and went down. He immediately tried to retrieve his gun, but she used her right leg to sweep both feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and she dove over him, trying to reach the gun first. He lunged in the same direction.
His reach was longer, and his hands were the first to grasp the pistol.
"You're lying. You must want to play games with me. Trying to make this fun?" he asked, panting as he swung the gun around until it pointed directly at her forehead. "Get up. Let's try this again." He stood, pulling her up in front of him, then his eyes widened as he looked past her shoulder. "Ah, if it isn't the adoring husband. Come on out, Mr. Lawrence. Or whatever your real name is."
Gun drawn, Deeks emerged from the side of the house. "Federal agent. Drop your weapon." He walked slowly toward them.
"That's far enough." Castille grabbed Kensi's shoulder, then whipped her around to use as a shield. Thrown off balance, she would have gone down except for the arm he threw around her throat. He kept her down low enough that she couldn't get her feet fully underneath her to stand up, and she was forced to hold on to his arm. With his right hand he pointed the gun at the side of her head.
"Drop your weapon," he said to Deeks. "Or I put a bullet through her brain right now."
"I hardly think that's true," said Deeks, forcing himself to look at Castille instead of Kensi. He had to keep his mind sharp and focused and do what he knew to do. But then Castille pushed the gun into her temple, and she winced and tried to draw away. "Hey," he said sharply, trying to draw Castille's attention. "You kill her and I have no incentive not to drop you where you stand."
"Good point," said Castille thoughtfully. "I guess that means I should neutralize the threat."
"No," whispered Kensi, working to get her feet flat on the ground.
"I've already taken care of another NCIS agent today. Sort of like an appetizer. Kensi…" Castille lifted her chin, pulling her enough that she was able to stand upright, "Well, she's going to be my dessert. So you can be the main course."
Realizing he was going to shoot Deeks just as easily as he'd shot Callen earlier, Kensi lunged forward, cratering into Deeks just as the gun went off. The two of them went down hard, and Deeks had to pull her to one side to get his own gun raised. He shot Castille once center mass, and Castille stumbled backwards two steps, a slightly confused look on his face and hand held to his belly. The other man brought the hand up, looking at pink-smeared fingers, then tried to raise the gun again. Deeks shot once more. The force of this shot sent him back towards the cliff at the edge of the lawn, and Castille disappeared from sight. Deeks heard a short scream that ended abruptly.
"Well. Guess that took care of that." Deeks let his head fall back, pulled Kensi a little tighter to him. "Damn, woman, you pack a mean punch. Felt like a bullet hit me." She didn't respond, and he raised his head so he could see her face. She looked terrible—complexion grayish and clammy, eyes dilated, lips colorless. "Hey, Kens, it's all over now. It's okay." But it was clear she wasn't. He rolled to his side, cradling her in one arm. "Kensi?"
Her head fell back slightly, and she looked up at him. "Deeks? I have to tell you something." She reached up and grasped his shirt in one trembling hand. "What I said…before, at the mission. I didn't mean it." He eased her backwards, eyes widening in shock as he saw that half her shirt was covered in blood. She continued talking. "You…you are the best partner I've ever had. The best…partner anyone could ever have."
"Stop talking," he said tersely, laying her down carefully and sitting up so he could assess the damage. He pulled her hand down gently, laying it on her stomach. His own shirt was bloody, damp and uncomfortable. With her blood. Because she'd taken a bullet meant for him. He unbuttoned the top of the romper and bared her shoulder. The exit wound was high and ugly, torn skin bleeding profusely. He took off his own shirt and crumpled it, intending to use it apply pressure, but a large lump stopped him. He pulled out the wallet, forgotten in the shock of all that had happened—then stopped and stared. Stuck in the middle of the wallet was a hardened, flattened lump of reddish metal. The bullet had gone straight through Kensi's shoulder and toward his own heart—only to be stopped by the wallet in his shirt pocket. His eyes stinging, he laid it aside carefully, then bundled the shirt on either side of Kensi's shoulder and began applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
"I'm so sorry," she continued softly. "I wish I hadn't said any of it." Her voice was fading, eyes closed. "I really didn't…didn't mean any of it."
"Sam? I need some help here." Deeks tried to keep the panic from his voice, wanted to remain calm. But it was so hard as she continued to bleed. The bullet must have hit an artery. It was too high to have hit any organs.
"McGarrett's heading towards you. Should be there any minute."
"I'm so tired." She sighed softly, turning her head sideways toward him. "I couldn't sleep after. After all that. It was…hard, not being able to see you."
"I know, Kens. Don't talk," he said desperately. His shirt was near soaked already. "Just save your strength. We can talk all about it later."
"Okay," she said agreeably. "I'm going to rest now."
That's it, baby girl. Close your eyes. It's time to sleep now. She smiled as she heard her father's voice. You did good.
"Daddy?" Her voice was barely audible. "Daddy, is that you?"
"Stay with me, Kensi," said Deeks, voice loud and firm despite the fearful pounding in his heart. "Stay with me." But she was too tired to stay awake, much too tired even to respond to the entreaty in his voice as he continued to call her name. "Kensi? Kensi!"
