Chapter Nine: Fame: It's Just The Flame
When operations went wrong, they went really wrong, Kensi reflected, as Al-Jahiri's thugs forced her into a kneeling position, while he spread black plastic sheets on the floor. Seemed liked the guy was a good deal of a neat-freak. How strange that a fugitive war criminal was taking the time to indulge his OCD. Not that she was going to object – every extra second of reprieve she could gain before they put a gun to the back of her head and blasted her to kingdom come was valuable, meaning her team were a few feet closer and her chances of getting out this alive were that much greater. Of course, those chance would still be horribly small, but she wasn't going to give up with a fight. They'd picked the wrong woman to mess with if they thought that Kensi Blye was just going to kneel down meekly like a good little girl, like some damned animal in a slaughter house and submit to death. She wasn't ready to die – she had too much to live for. It put that encounter with Marty in the nightclub into perspective more clearly than ever. If you were accustomed to living on the edge, knowing that each day was potentially your last day on earth, then you took chances in your personal life, you grabbed pleasure with both hands: you loved like you'd never been hurt and you lived like there was no tomorrow.
If she got out of this alive; no, make that when she got out of this, Kensi was going to set up a date with Marty and this time they would do things properly, really get to know each other, physically and emotionally. For far too long Kensi was aware she had concentrated on instant gratification and that meant she'd been missing out on so much, that by walking away after each coupling, she'd denied herself any opportunity to develop something meaningful. All of a sudden she mourned the fact that there were no long, intimate talks in the darkness, no sense of shared union, no chance of waking up with the arms of the man she loved wrapped tightly around her. If Kensi was brutally honest, many of her sexual encounters had been deeply unfulfilling, possibly even demeaning. But things could be different: she could make them different. She had thought that one-night stands gave her control, but now she realised how wrong she'd been. That encounter with Marty had left her crying out for something more and Kensi was going to grab any chance she could with both hands. Whether he liked it or not. The though gave added impetus to her fight to stay alive.
The number of times Callen had made her rehearse moves in the gym with her hands cuffed firmly behind her back paid dividends. Kensi rolled smoothly onto her back and planted a solid, two-footed kick right into her attacker's groin, driving him backwards with the force of her assault. As he staggered, moaned, went grey and then collapsed into a whimpering heap, she was already somersaulting backwards and springing to her feet, giving thanks for whoever had invented Spandex and thought of incorporating it into jeans. And that was the moment when Callen and Sam came through the front door, like two avenging angels with their swords on fire and Kensi knew that she was going to live and have that chance to turn her life around.
Sam had just finished unfastening her hands when Kensi heard Marty's voice saying indignantly "What? You can't tell me I shouldn't have taken the shot?" Flashing her a quick smile, Sam went over to his partner, leaving Kensi to try to shake the blood back down into her numb fingers.
"No, I can't tell you that. It was a good shot," Callen said frankly, and Kensi smiled. Maybe they were all learning to work together. She was still smiling as she started to walk over to where her team stood on the other side of the room, but the expression on her face changed to horror as a man came out of nowhere, pushed her aside and fired at directly Marty. She was smart, she was quick and fast, but even Kensi wasn't that good. She could take down the shooter and she did, but only after he'd already shot her partner, the force of the bullet taking Marty to his knees, a look of complete shock on his face.
And then all hell brook loose, as in one instant Callen was demanding immediate help with the words that Hetty must have come to dread "Agent down,", while at the same time Sam was diving forward and catching Marty in his arms, dropping to his own knees to support the injured detective in his arms. And all Kensi could think was "Oh shit, this is bad," as she saw the blood and the look of resignation on her partner's face.
Afterwards, Sam told her that she kept saying "Marty": just that one word, repeating it over and over again. And when it finally got a reaction, made him open his eyes, Sam said that she crouched down and put her hands on either side of Marty's face and told him he would be alright. Kensi remembers none of that. But whenever she closes her eyes she can see Marty's face so clearly, the way he looked directly at her, already pale from blood loss and his hair falling back in disarray and she can remember exactly how he looked and the strange half-smile that flickered briefly on his lips before he passed out. And Kensi can remember thinking how much he meant to her, the man who had broken the ice around her heart and made her want to start living again.
"Paramedics are on their way." Callen said tersely. "Should be with us in five."
Sam looked up at him. "Tell them to be here in three because he's doing his best to bleed out on us." The blood from the shoulder wound was oozing throught his fingers. "Kensi – go grab something we can use to try to stem this. A towel from the kitchen would be good."
Numbly, Kensi got to her feet and walked past the dead bodies littering the house. Someone was going to have one hell of a job clearing this mess up, she thought automatically. And then she saw a slight movement and instantly her gun was in her hand. "Darva! Ben Darva's still alive. But he's in a bad way." There was dark blood oozing from the man's ears, and that was never good. Usually it meant a catastrophic brain injury. Maybe it would be better if the man never regained consciousness and had to deal with the fact he'd harboured a war criminal.
Kensi looked at her watch and saw it was just before noon. Thirty six hours ago, she'd had the best sex of her life and after that she'd started to reassess her life and why she was so hell-bent on self-destructing. Twenty four hours ago she'd realised that Marty Deeks was different, that she wanted him in a way she'd never wanted any man in her entire life – wanted him to be in her life, wanted to share her life with him. Twelve hours ago, she'd thought that maybe things could be different. But right now, she didn't know how she felt.
