The epilogue continues... I'm going to aim to do a WHN epilogue for each episode, just to take things that little bit further.

I push my temper down, push it right down where it can lie with all the other darkness I keep hidden and just hold my hand. "My keys. Now, Deeks."

Deeks stops tossing the keys back and forward, but he doesn't give them to me. Instead, he holds them in the palm of his hand and his fingers curl around them – his long, supple fingers. "Kensi: you're hurting," he says in a quiet voice that is almost an undertone. All the normal lightness and humour I've grown accustomed to is absent.

"Deeks – I just want to go home." I am not going to argue with him, mainly because I have this awful feeling that if I do, there is a good chance I might just burst into tears. That is how much this day has got to me: it has stripped away all my defences. And I am not going to let Deeks see me cry. No way.

"No, you don't. I know you don't." Deeks looking straight at me, and it feels like he can see through all the protective layers I've constructed. It feels as if he is peeling them away, one by one, to reveal the wounded woman that lies beneath and I don't want him to go there.

"You don't know anything about me, Deeks." I wish he would stop looking at me like that.

"But I could. And I'd like to." The solemn look disappears and there is a hint of a smile. "Didn't you ever play 'let's pretend' when you were a kid?"

Okay – that one came straight out of left-field. I just look at Deeks, wondering what the hell he is going on about and why we just seem to have slipped into an alternate universe. I might be lost for words, but Deeks isn't. The day he isn't talking fit to burst is the day I am seriously worried about him. He holds the keys out invitingly, so that they are dangling from his finger.

"How about we meet up – and pretend that we have never met before? We go to some club, we have a couple of drinks and we talk? As Kensi and Marty. That's it. Nothing more. We're just two people who have never met before."

"That's it? There's no catch?" There has to be a catch, doesn't there? There's either a catch, or he is setting me up.

"That's it. And there's no catch. Well, we might have to dance, I guess." He gives a rueful shrug, as if he's trying to be modest or something.

"I can dance." Of course I can dance. I am a great dancer, because dancing is one of the ways I can relax. I can be myself when I dance, let all my feelings out and lose myself in the music. When I'm dancing, I don't need to pretend any more.

"And it would be a shame to waste that dress." Deeks is wheedling now, or cajoling – or something. He's doing something and it's hard to resist. Of course, he has a point. He has a very good point. Actually, he has several. What do I have to lose? I could go home, sit and run over everything that happened today and wonder when my life turned into this one-way street to nowhere, or I could have a couple of drinks and try to dance away my heartaches. There's no contest really. And this is a great dress, even if Callen didn't even give it so much as a second glance. Which is his loss, really. Maybe he's just mad because Hetty has put a spoke in the burgeoning bromance he's got going with Sam by making Callen move into his own place? It must have really hurt Callen to have to part with all that money – hurt him right in the wallet.

I decide that I'd better set out a few ground rules, so that we both know exactly where we stand. "Just so you are clear, Deeks: this is not a date. Understand?" Because there is no way I would go out with him. Not ever. Deeks is not my type – he never was and he never will be. But he is my partner.

"Message received, loud and clear."

"And we don't talk about this. Not ever. Not to anyone. And especially not Sam and Callen."

"Agreed. And you've got to promise not to take advantage of me, because nice boys don't put out on the first date."

"Deeks." I can feel the tip of foot just itching to make contact with his groin.

"I'll be good. And you can be careful."

I could be wrong, because it is dark and it's hard to see clearly, but I think there might just be the merest hint of a twinkle in his eyes. I take my car keys and watch him walk over to his own car and all the time I am wondering what the hell I've got myself into now and why I just can't seem to say 'no' to Deeks. But my pulse is beating frantically and I am driving just a little too fast and suddenly today has got a whole lot better.

It's midweek, so the club isn't particularly busy. The lights are low as I make my way towards the bar; I can feel my hips swaying in time to the beat of the music and I realise that tonight I want to dance. I haven't felt like this for a long time. It's not difficult to catch the barman's eye and just as I'm ordering my drink, I can feel someone come to stand behind me.

"Let me get that for you." He orders a drink for himself and I can't help noticing that we drink the same thing. That doesn't mean anything, of course it doesn't. It is just one of those meaningless co-incidences that spring up out of nowhere and assume an importance that is out of all proportion to their insignificance.

I don't have to turn around to see who it is, because I would know that voice anywhere. I can feel his hip brush against mine as Deeks comes to stand beside me. And there are so many mirrors in this place I can see our reflections quite clearly. We do look good together, even I have to admit that. We even look as if we should belong together.

"Thank you." I look straight ahead so that our eyes meet in the mirror and I give him a half smile, not quite sure of where this is going.

"I'm Marty." There is a flash of white as he smiles at me, but I can't help noticing that his eyes are guarded, almost as if he's uncertain of himself. But maybe that is just a trick of the light. Or the fact that I am looking at his reflection, an altered perception of reality. This feels unreal and it feels slightly dangerous, as if it could go anywhere. I could stop this right now, if I wanted to.

"And I'm Kensi. It's nice to meet you, Marty." What do I have to lose? I don't want this to stop. I want to see how far this is going to go.

We go over to a table in a quiet corner, and as we walk Deeks rests his hand lightly on the small of my back. Only he isn't Deeks, not tonight. Tonight he is Marty and we are two strangers whose eyes met in the mirror behind a bar. I can feel the warmth of his hand permeating through the material of my dress and I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. We sit down and I start to say something, I have no idea what. I feel as nervous as a high-school kid out on her first date and I am probably talking complete nonsense. That doesn't seem to matter, because Deeks leans forward, listening intently to what I'm saying, letting me talk, listening as if I am disclosing all the secrets of the universe to him, or as if I am the only woman in the world. It's slightly unnerving, and I find that I can't look directly at him for some reason, so I look down and focus on the way he is holding his glass, the way his fingers curve around it, almost as if he is caressing it. Most men don't want to listen when you talk, you know. They are waiting for you to finish so that they can start to talk about themselves, constructing elaborate stories that are designed to demonstrate how desirable they are; how rich they are; how socially well-connected they are. And all these stories have one purpose: to get you into bed with them as quickly as possible. You have to remember that LA is an industry town and you can bet your last dollar that half the people here tonight are here so that they can be seen. Everyone is acting, pretending that they have these amazing lives, that they are about to become the next big thing. All I want is to be normal – but exactly what constitutes normal in LA, where artifice is not just an art-form, it is a way of life?

"You used to be a lawyer," I say, realising that I've probably been rambling and that it is time to stop talking about myself before I give away too much.

"For a while," he agrees cautiously. My abrupt change of subject seems to take him by surprise and he sits up a little straighter.

"You don't look like a lawyer."

"Do you know, that's almost exactly what they said when I turned up for my first day at work?" He brushes his hair back from his eyes with his left hand. I've noticed that he does that a whole lot and wonder why he just doesn't get it trimmed? I've got a pair of nail scissors in my desk at back at work and it would only take a couple of minutes. Except that Sam and Callen would never let us hear the end of it.

The drink is loosening my tongue now. "I'll bet. If I had to guess, I'd say you were a surfer." For the first time since we came into the club, I look up to meet his eyes directly. Even with the subdued lighting I can see how blue they are, so blue that they make my heart hurt.

"And you'd be right. Looks like you can see right through me, Kensi. Only surfing doesn't pay the bills."

I knew he was a surfer, right from the first time we met. "I've never surfed."

"Maybe I could teach you?"

What an image that creates. I can see the scene so clearly now: me, Deeks (sorry, Marty), a deserted beach (yeah, right) and one of those perfect California days when there isn't a cloud in the sky. The waves are pounding on the shore and my heart is pounding in time to them as Marty comes out of the ocean, kind of like Ursula Andress in Dr No, only he's wearing this wetsuit. He doesn't know I am watching him, and he reaches around, tugs down the zipper and then peels down the suit to his waist. Next he shakes his head, so that droplets of water go flying through the air and finally he gives that sleepy smile. Okay, that is a really cheesy fantasy, like something a teen would have. But boy, it's a nice image. It's a very nice image indeed.

"Maybe. We'll see." My mouth is suddenly dry and I take a long swallow of my drink. "How about we dance?"

"I'd like that."

The dance floor is small, and although there are not a lot of people in the club, it is surprisingly crowded, so our bodies are very close. The music is loud, so we can't talk any more, well, not with words, that is. We have to let our bodies do the talking and Marty is hesitant, almost shy. He lets me take the lead, and I'm happy to do that, because I am in my element. You can't be inhibited on the dance floor, after all. So I get down to it, I do my thing and I realise that I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. After a couple of songs, the music slows right down and we are dancing together: my arms are clasped around his neck and his arms are folded around my waist. It means nothing, I know that, it is only a dance – but it feels so right. We are moving together and Marty is hitting all the right notes and making all the right moves. I turn my face to look up at him, and there is something naked in his eyes that sends a lightning jolt shooting straight through me.

How easy it would be to give in to this. I've done it before and I will probably do it again – hooking up with someone in a club. It would be so easy to kiss him. So easy and so wonderful. Right now I want him. I want him right now. But he's not just anyone. I can't go there. Tonight he might be Marty but tomorrow he will be Deeks and I cannot forget that he is my partner. Once we start to go down that road we can never turn back. Tonight I'm vulnerable, so I have to be careful. I can't do anything that might jeopardise this thing we seem to have, because I know that I need him. I want him and I need him and the two emotions are fighting each other.

"You're a good friend, Marty." I mean that. He's not pushing at all, he's letting me work it things out. He's there for me, in a way that nobody has been for such a long time. Up until now, I wasn't aware of exactly how lonely I was. But now I have him.

"Any time." He kisses me then, just a little kiss on the top of my forehead, leaning forward so that his lips barely brush against my skin. "Any time at all. All you ever have to do is ask."

"I know." I turn my head so that my cheek is resting against his chest and as we sway slowly in time to the music I feel as if we could dance right up to the edge of time together.

This isn't real, I know that. We're just pretending to be two people who meet briefly. It's just another chapter in the long line of deceptions that colour my life, but this time it is different, because we both know this is a game, and we are both willing players in that game. Nobody is getting hurt here, this is just an illusion we are weaving for one night only. Only I catch another glimpse of us in one of those mirrors and we look so good together that the breath catches in my throat. We look like a couple who have no secrets and who trust each other.

We turn and now I cannot see his face, because Marty is bending his head down towards me and he is pressing his face against mine and as I catch sight of our reflections again I wonder what he is thinking. I wonder what really goes on behind that wholesome face that appears so open and I wonder what secrets he is hiding. But this is not the time or the place for these questions. Tonight is about Kensi and Marty. I will deal with Deeks tomorrow, when we are back at work. But tonight belongs to us. I lean in a little closer and I feel his arms tighten around me and I do not want this night to ever end.

Eventually, we leave. We're both working tomorrow, and it is already past 2 am. We leave, even though I feel as if I could dance all night.

"I had a great time." Once again his hand is resting in the hollow of my back.

"Me too. It was good meeting you, Marty."

"We could do it again, sometime? If you want to?" He sounds uncertain, as if the spell is dissolving around us and he is anticipating a rebuff.

I smile at him and then lean forward and kiss gently him on the cheek, a safe, chaste kiss. "I think I'd like that, Marty." I keep saying his name, as if I am trying to underscore the fact that this is not about us, it is about two strangers, who danced for a couple of hours, had a few drinks and then danced some more. This has nothing to do with Kensi and Deeks. We are not them tonight, we're just two people who made a connection when they needed to.

He walks me to my car, under the serious moonlight and I realise that Hetty was right after all Sometimes a lie can actually bring you closer together, but only if you are both complicit in that deception. And I realise that now Deeks and I have a secret we are going to have to keep from the rest of the team. Somehow, I don't think they would understand. But that's fine, because I don't think I want anyone else to know. I want this to be between me and Deeks. Or is that Marty? I'm not entirely sure who I'm with or what I'm doing , but I do know that I feel happy, truly happy, for this first time in a very long while. And for the moment, that is enough. I don't want to push my luck too far.

They are playing old country songs tonight on the radio, and as I drive home I am singing along with Glen Campbell:

And I want you more than need you,
And I need you for all time."

I can't help smiling at that and I wonder how good ol' Glen knows me so well. Still, I'm not complaining any more. Life might just be about to get better.

Those lines were, of course, from Wichita Linesman, and were written by Jimmy Webb.