A/N: Here's part 4 of the car crash fic. I'm so good at naming stories.
"You two just sit down," Valerie said as she led Kensi and Deeks into a cozy living room.
She pushed the hood of her coat back, revealing a mass of dark, curly hair that had grown frizzy from the rain. Without most of her head obscured, Kensi realized that she looked to be in her mid to late thirties.
"I'll grab the first aid kit and some towels." Valeri looked them up and down, taking in their muddy, dripping clothes and added, "And maybe something else to wear. I think something of Tim's should fit you Marty."
"You don't have to do that, we'll be fine," Kensi insisted while she tugged her soaked shoes off and laid the duffle bag in front of the fire.
"Oh, it's no problem." She waved her hand and then scurried out, leaving them to wait in front of the flickering fireplace. The room was lit by several electric lanterns, which indicated that the power must go out pretty frequently.
"Huh, not quite as serial killer-y as I was expecting," Deeks commented, peering around the shadowy room. Kensi still had an arm around his waist and forcefully directed him towards a threadbare armchair. During the walk up to the house, he'd continue to make increasingly odd and seemingly unrelated comments.
Valeria had looked truly worried when Deeks went on a totally unsolicited description of his favorite Mary Tyler Moore episode. Kensi had assured her that Deeks was not in serious trouble, despite her own concern.
"You need to sit down, babe," she said, helping into the chair. He groaned, moving stiffly. Kensi kneeled in front of him, ignoring the wave of dizziness the sudden shift caused. "How bad is it really?" Deeks shrugged, blinking slowly.
"Well, you look kind of like you're in an old black and white movie from the 40's. You know, the kind where there's kind of a haze around everything?"
"Oh my god, what is it with you and the retro TV today?"
"We should really watch "Laura" someday. It's got this great theme music, also called Laura I think, and this detective who falls in love with her while he's investigating her supposed murder. It's not creepy at all," he continued. Grasping either side of his face between her palms, Kensi brought his eyes back to her.
"Babe, focus. How's your head?" He sighed, clamping his eyes shut.
"It hurts, but not as bad as in Mexico."
"I guess that's encouraging," she said doubtfully. His head injury in Mexico had put him in a temporary coma. If they hadn't gotten to the hospital when they did, he probably would have died. She shuddered, blaming it on her damp clothes.
"And my vision is a little hazier than before, but I'm not as dizzy or nauseous," he assured her, probably noticing Kensi's growing concern. He swallowed harshly and added, "I might need to amend the nauseous part though."
Kensi sighed again, running her fingers through his hair, which was curling in a messy halo of gold as it dried. He leaned into her touch, making a contented sound.
"That feels good." He peeked at her though the slit of one eye.
"What about you," he asked. "You bumped your head too and your face must really hurt."
"If this leads into a joke about how it's killing you–" she started warningly. Jokes were always a good sign when it came to Deeks overall health, but it didn't mean that she had to enjoy them.
"Ooh, that would have been a good one. But sadly, I honestly want to make sure you're not going to keel over on me." Kensi rolled her eyes, but admitted,
"I ache all over, but I'll be ok." It was a slight understatement. Deeks eyed her knowingly for a moment, probably guessing that she was holding back. He didn't say anything thought and closed his eyes again, leaning into Kensi's hand.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked after a few more minutes. He smiled weakly up at her.
"An ice pack would be nice," he said. Kensi ruffled his hair as she stood up, her legs protesting the sudden movement, and dropped a kiss on his lips.
"I'll go see if Valeria has anything," she told him.
"And maybe see if she has a spare Vicodin or two," he added as she left the room.
Once she was in the hallway, she realized she had no idea where Valerie was. It felt a little odd to be creeping around someone's home when they weren't a suspect or victim.
The rest of the house wasn't nearly as well-lit as the den and Kensi stumbled around for a few minutes, until she heard the faint sound of talking coming from what she assumed was a bedroom.
"But Tim, they seem like good people. I can't do something like that," she heard Valerie say in a hushed voice. "Well, then you better do it when you get back, because I won't."
Kensi pressed her ear against the door, a chill going up her spine. Valerie had said she didn't have cell reception.
"No, I'm not doing anything until you get back." She definitely sounded angry now. Kensi heard her hanging up and hastily backed away. She jogged back to Deeks as quietly as she could.
"We need to get out of here," she whispered urgently as Deeks straightened slowly, his eyes half closed. He watched her hurriedly shove her shoes on without untying the laces.
"What's going on?" Deeks asked, his voice slightly slurred with exhaustion.
"I just heard Valerie, if that's even her real name, talking on the phone with Tim. I think they're planning on killing us or something," she explained slinging the duffle bag over one shoulder and then turning back to Deeks. Her eyes flicked to the door, conscious of the fact that Valerie could return at any moment.
"Seriously?" Deeks sounded surprisingly annoyed as Kensi looped an arm around his waist and helped him stand. "I was right, this is a serial killer house."
"Well, if it is, we're not becoming the next victims," Kensi said grimly. "C'mon."
"Wait, hang on a minute," Deeks muttered, sinking into a low crouch. He clutched his head between his hands and groaned. "I think I moved too quickly."
"Ok, we'll–" she broke off at the sound of approaching footsteps and immediately reached for her gun, pointing it toward the door.
Dun–dun–dun.