"I'll see you in the parking lot," Kensi said in an undertone. "And don't bother to get changed." She felt that it was important to stress that, because she wanted him exactly as he was. Sometimes you had to recognise that it was not possible to improve on perfection; that finally you had exactly what you had been searching for without even realising it.

Fate really did exist, it seemed, influencing your life with stealth, invading every scintilla of your being until everything was changed beyond all recognition. What you thought once was fact, was no longer credible; resistance was not only futile, it had crossed over into the realm of logical impossibility because the compulsion was too strong, too powerful to resist.

Deeks helped himself to another glass of champagne and watched as Kensi said her goodbyes. About five minutes of hanging around should do it, he thought. That would be just long enough to set up a reasonable amount of time and distance, so that they did not arouse any undue suspicions. Although he rather had the feeling that most people were too concerned with their own sex lives to be overly bothered about what he might have planned for the rest of the evening. Nell and Eric seemed to be exercising a powerful new attraction to one another, while the sparks between his sister and Callen rivalled any firework display.

"Happy New year, sis." Judging by the exuberant way Louise flung her arms around him, the champagne had gone her head. Either that or she was totally loved-up. Deeks saw the way she was absent-mindedly fondling the whip and decided that it might very well be the latter.

"Happy New Year!" Louise bent her head towards his ear. "I don't think I'll be home tonight."

"Really?" It was an effort, but he managed to sound suitably surprised and marginally disappointed. "Oh well, you have a good time."

"Oh, I intend to." Louise let herself fall back into Callen's waiting arms, and he responded by briefly burying his face in her hair.

Deeks gave Callen a searching look. "You look after my sister."

For a split second, Callen was propelled back through time, travelling across the years so that once again he was standing awkwardly on the threshold of a house, waiting for his date for the prom to come downstairs, while her father eye-balled him, with unveiled threats evident in every single ounce of his not inconsiderable body weight. You look after my little girl. And you treat her with respect. Now, as was the case back then, this was a command, not a request.

"You know I will."

Blue eyes met blue eyes: eyes as blue and as deep and as fathomless as the seven seas met and engaged, recognising ultimately a mutuality of purpose and a shared concern born out of love.

"You make sure you do."

Watching, Macy wondered if Callen had ever felt this urge to protect her, or if her own vehement independence had only served to quell such impulses and stifle them before they could ever reach fruition. Oh, for the chance to go back again and do things differently, to cheat fate and run once again towards the limitless sunlight, knowing that she would surely stay young and vital forever, that together she and Callen could beat everything. How stupid she had been, how utterly careless of both her life and her love, thinking that each would last forever, for old age was something that happened to other people and death was unthinkable.

But life did not work like that, and Macy knew her own life, and especially the leaving of it, had been the living exemplar of the phrase 'nasty, brutal and short'. Beside which, once you were dead, all the rules were meaningless because existence ceased to have any meaning at all, and life was something that applied to other people, while you were merely an observer, standing on the sidelines and thinking about how very much better things were done in your day. Life really was wasted on those with a beating pulse, for they had no conception of just how fragile, transient and bloody amazing it was. Oh, for the brief chance to do things differently.

"Treasure every moment, Louise. Take nothing for granted and remember how very special he is. Callen deserves to be loved."

There was nobody here to listen, but that did not matter. What was important was that it was time to let go and let Callen move on. Macy stood beside her lover, who she would never cease to adore, and let her lips breeze across his cheek in the fragrant memory of a kiss. Reflexively, he raised his hand at the faint sensation and Macy felt it pass straight through her, with no tangible sensation at all. That was when she realised that it was over, there was no going back or retracing time. What they had once had was now only a memory, with no root in reality. It was gone and only the faintest trace was left, embedded only in their minds. Soon even that would no longer exist.

"I'll always love you." Whatever that meant. It was a neat conundrum and one which could task the keenest philosophical minds: if love, true love, could only exist when it was reciprocated and returned, then logically love had to cease upon death. So why did it still hurt so much? If death meant the end of everything, then why did Macy feel as if she was dying all over again as she watched Callen and Louise walk out together, looking complete, happy and secure?

Enough was enough. Macy lifted her face heavenwards. "Can we stop this right now? Please? Because I've done what you asked of me. I've done everything and more. But it isn't fun anymore."

Nobody was listening, because nothing changed. The world was still turning; Callen still had Louise pulled close to him as the doors shut behind them; and she was still here on earth and still dead. Maybe this was purgatory, but then again, perhaps this was hell. Macy found she wold welcome another death. With any luck, this one would be permanent.


"So. Here we are." Kensi pulled off her shoes and settled herself cross-legged on the sofa with an expectant look on her face. The long, slow build-up to this moment had coalesced and resolved itself into reality. The burning urgency that consumed her was about to ignite, at which point she would not be responsible for her actions.

"Here we are." He'd just performed in front of a packed house, so why did was he suddenly nervous about dancing in for an audience of one? Especially when that singular spectator was Kensi, who only hours ago had been taking him to heights he had never dreamt of and screaming her passion so that the walls had echoed her desire. Deeks shuffled nervously from one foot to the other and wished fervently he was wearing slightly more in the way of clothing.

"You said you'd dance for me." The room seemed devoid of air, so Kensi unbuttoned her tuxedo jacket and slipped it off, so that it fell down in a slithering shudder of silk.

He'd been right about that camisole: it was made of lace – café au lait lace, fine, sheer and diaphanous, and underneath the lace there was nothing but Kensi, her tawny skin glowing in the translucent night. It was a sight to behold and Deeks suddenly felt a whole lot better about life in general.

"I can read you like a book, Deeks." You didn't have to be a mind reader to translate the emotions flickering across his face, crackling fire in those blue eyes or indeed arising from his body. Kensi sat up a little straighter, reached into a pocket and tossed across her IPod. "How about you put this on and then dance for me?" She had the ideal song, all cued up and ready to play. "

Deeks looked at the screen and his lips curved into the grin that haunted her dreams. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Really. Really and truly." It was the soundtrack to her inner fantasies, every word relevant and appropriate and with a hard grinding beat. It would be interesting to see what he made of this.

"It's not exactly subtle."

"Which makes it ideal." Subtle and Deeks were diametrically opposed, after all. And then Kensi caught herself: that was the public persona, and she was beginning to understand the real man behind the projected image. "Tonight isn't about subtlety. We can leave that for another time."

She thought about the song and realised that subtlety was not her strong suit either. Quite the reverse. Denial: well, that was different, Kensi had denial down to a fine art. But denial was gone, thrown into the maelstrom of emotions that were swirling around in a sexual miasma so thick it was palpable. That song summed everything up perfectly. Atomic. Yes, this was explosive. So the first line begged him to 'make her tonight': well that was fine. There was only so long she could sit here and not fling herself bodily upon him and rip those shorts off with her teeth and her patience was almost frayed into oblivion. It would be good if the rest of her mind could join it in that happy state of blissful nirvana.

Deeks no need to ask what tonight was about, because he already knew. Tonight was about making it right, making it magnificent. This was solely about the here and now, the immediate present: nothing else was relevant, except for the fact that they were here and they were together. Everything else was irrelevant. Tonight was about the future, it was about everything.

And then the music started, and in that moment everything changed, so that Deeks found himself back into that zone, the one where he held all the power. And by the transfixed look in Kensi's eyes, the magic was still there. It was a great song after all, and easy to dance to, with a pulsating beat that seemed perfect for pacing towards her, tilting his pelvis first to one side and then the other, before taking a step back, turning to one side and walking away, letting his butt wiggle for all he was worth. Atomic – oh yes, this song was all about power and it was giving him that power to contain and radiate. The beat grew faster and more frenetic. He stuck a pose, standing with legs braced and one hand slithering diagonally from shoulder to hip, all the while staring at her directly, never letting his gaze drop for one second.

"Come here." Kensi was sitting right on the edge of the sofa now, reaching out to him, but Deeks just shook his head, even as Debbie Harry informed the world about how beautiful his hair was.

This was insane. She'd danced to this song a hundred times and found it addictive. But this was like mainlining. The room was in semi-darkness and all Kensi could see was a kaleidoscopic variety of shades of tawny gold as Deeks danced: his skin, those boots, the micro-shorts and that tousled mop of hair were all combining to create a medley of fascinating temptation as the vivid blue of his eyes seemed to stare directly into her core.

So she would have to make the first move. Kensi stood up and swayed sensuously across the floor, hooking her pinky finger in the waistband of those shorts. "I said, come here." Her voice was strong and sure, clear and certain.

"How about you make me?"

How was that for an offer she could not refuse? Kensi let her pinky finger remained exactly where it was, and was joined by the rest of her fingers, which slowly insinuated themselves between the golden material and the equally golden skin. In that instant, Deeks found that he was no longer able to dance, because he was too busy kissing Kensi, kissing her mouth, her neck, and then the strong line of her collar bone: pushing aside the fragile straps of the camisole so that he could kiss the gentle swell of her breasts. His hands were clasped around her waist and Kensi was leaning backwards, arching her back and pushing down the camisole, almost willing him to devour her.

"Want to hear my new year's resolution?" Deeks was bending forward, leaning above her, so that his mouth was close to her ear and she could feel the rush of his breath against her skin

Kensi felt a shivery of expectation run down the entire length of her spine, so that even her toes seemed to tingle with pleasure. "Tell me."

They were moving together in time to the music, slow rotations of their hips, achingly grinding against one another as their bodies maintained maximum contact at all times.

Whither thou goest, I will go… even unto the ends of the earth or eternity, for life is just a brief speck in the cosmos and there is no meaning except in the immediacy.

"I'm going to make love to you every single day." The flickering point of his tongue ran languidly around the outer rim of her ear and Kensi felt her insides crumble.

"And can I make love to you every night?"

"You can do anything you want." She'd always had that power over him, Deeks realised, the ability to reach out to his soul with a smile.

In the dark night sky, it matters not that the stars we see are already dead and it is merely the faint remnants of their former glory that transpose across time, for that bridge across space crosses the void that exists all around each one of us. Too often lives are lived in isolation and love withers fruitlessly. But sometimes serendipity intervenes, wrongs are righted and what should be comes to pass, just as it should, were the world beautiful, perfect and just. One short week ago, things had been very different and there was no possibility that Kensi would have given any credence to the possibility of letting her naked body skim across the crisp cotton sheets of Deeks' bed while he reared above her and then froze motionless, head raised up and eyes closed in fierce, rapt concentration before relaxing into boneless submission, all his frantic energy and depthless passion spent, finally subsiding to lie tenderly along her length

As the silver moonshine played upon his hair, turning them into luminous opalescence, Kensi let her fingers entwine among the tumbled locks, and wondered what she had ever done to inspire such passion. Somewhere along the line, she must have done something amazing.

"I want to be with you," she whispered, once she was certain that he was asleep. "I want to be with you, night and day." It wasn't that much to ask for, was it? After all, it was New Year's day and a whole new world of possibilities had just opened up.


That song Kensi chose is (of course) Atomic, by Blondie. Ain't that apt? the plot bunnies and I had a lovely boogie to it earlier tonight, while the dog looked on in disgust. He's like Kensi and prefers Michael Buble. There's simply no accounting for taste. My taste, of course, is impeccable - Deeks, preferably naked and lightly maimed.