She sits at her desk after midnight on a Saturday. She sits there, reflecting. She knows that she is avoiding going home. She doesn't quite know how to move forward. She finishes filling out a time off request. She looks up, when she hears footsteps moving towards her. She finds Hetty standing at the edge of her desk. She shakes her head.
"What are you doing here, Hetty?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Miss Blye," she responds.
"I am just filling out a time off request."
"May I ask why you are doing that on a Saturday night, when you could be anywhere, but here?"
"I just needed a minute."
"Are you okay?"
"I will be."
"Is this about yesterday's case?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"I don't know how to offer an explanation," Kensi replies.
"Just tell the truth."
"But the truth is harsh," she admits.
Hetty smirks, "It always is."
"Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"Have you known all of this time where they were?"
December 27th, 1998
She sits on a park bench with her knees to her chest. She clenches her jaw hoping the pain will dissipate. She looks up, and suddenly someone is standing in front of her.
"Are you okay?" A petite woman asks her.
"Fine," she lies.
"What is your name?"
"Kensi," she introduces herself.
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen," she admits, too tired to lie.
"You should be in school," Hetty comments.
"I should be a lot of things," she retorts.
Hetty notices the picture lying next to her. It is a picture of a newborn lying in a basinet. His name, and information is written on the white portion of the photo.
"My name is Henrietta, would you like a place to stay?"
She shakes her head, "No. I found out the same time that you did."
"You never bring it up," Kensi points out.
"I figured that when you were ready you would mention it. You never offered details, so I didn't probe."
"Sometimes I feel like I have lived two lives. One life that people see, and understand. I am an NCIS agent, and a trained sniper. I am a woman in a workplace full of men. I am a trained sniper. I don't lose my cool very often. Sometimes, I still feel like that scared kid sitting on a park bench wondering how to take care of another human being, when I couldn't even take care of myself. It follows me everywhere I go, and I never talk about it. I can never come up with the right words to explain. When I do…" she trails off.
"Every one of us has walked through hard times. All of us have had to make decisions that we didn't want to."
She shakes her head, "Not like this." She swallows hard.
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
"How can I not? I hid the truth for an entire lifetime. I robbed someone of having a mother. I…"
"Do you think that he would be the same person today if you had raised him in the streets?"
"No."
"Do you think he has a better life, because of the sacrifice that you made?"
"Unequivocally."
"You chose him, instead of choosing yourself, and that is something people will understand."
"But it doesn't do anything for the guilt. I went about it the wrong way. I could have finished school, and gotten established, and then chosen to be part of his life. Instead, I was selfish. I missed his entire childhood. I hate myself for not being there for him."
"Miss Blye you are never going to get that time back. All you can do is use the time that you have now. You cannot go back in time. The only way this works is if you move forward."
"He is this absolutely incredible young man, and I have nothing to do with it."
"Do you truly believe that?"
"I should get home," she tries to end the conversation.
"If you live in a place of bitterness, and anger it will get you nowhere. Embrace the choices that you have made, and deal with the consequences with the skills that you have now. If you live in the past it will drag you backwards."
When she gets home she finds Marty passed out on the couch. She finds a shoebox sitting in front of him on their coffee table. She leans forward, and plants a kiss on his cheek. He opens his eyes, and shifts into a sitting position.
"I am sorry that I kept you waiting."
He points to the cushion next to him, "Sit."
She takes a seat next to him. She begins talking before he gets the chance, "Deeks I want to apologize for the way that I told you about all of this. I feel like I dropped a bomb and walked out, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. I should have told you. I understand if you feel like we can't move forward. We have discussed marriage, and I don't feel as if it is fair for you to be with someone who invested something into a relationship, and didn't tell all of the truth. I have no excuses. I made a mistake. I have made a lot of mistakes."
He interrupts her rambling, "Just stop."
"If you don't want to talk about this anymore I understand."
"Stop! Just listen!"
She nods in agreement, "Okay."
"I love every part of you. I love every single piece of you. My only regret is that you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth."
She shakes her head in disagreement, "That isn't why I didn't tell you. I trust you with every fiber of my being. I just… I didn't trust myself."
"I want to move forward with you, whatever that means."
"I can't make up for lost time," she says on the verge of tears.
He kisses her forehead, "I know."
"All of those years ago I placed my newborn baby into the arms of his uncle, and I walked away. He is seventeen years old now. I missed everything."
He grins, "No you didn't."
She furrows her brow, "What are you talking about?"
"While you were out, Michael stopped by."
"I am so sorry."
"Don't be. He dropped off those," he points to the box.
"A new pair of shoes?"
"Home video of your son. He also told me that if you want to go through any of the photo albums, or his mementos all you have to do is let him know."
"Oh."
