Sam was perched at the end of Kensi's bed, still managing to look protective even in his relaxed slouched position. He couldn't help it. He was the Protector. It was who he was.
No one could exactly blame him for being protective or even overprotective of Kensi. They'd nearly lost her. Not in the sense of them diving into an active shooting situation or even a bomb going off. They dove into those. Kensi didn't dive into this.
He finally felt like he was getting his bearings back, that he was in control. He knew what was happening now and how things were going to progress in the immediate future. The future looked good. Hell, Kensi was looking good. Most of the time. Everything was progress. They'd all eventually get back into a groove no matter where that may be.
Sam was glad that it was looking more and more likely that that would once again include Kensi.
He'd given her a quick once over, she was looking better today. Stronger, more in control. It was a good day for her. He just hoped that what he was about to say didn't ruin it on her.
This had been bugging him for a while, after every visit, after every talk with Deeks. No one seemed to have addressed it, not wanting to push when she was still fragile. But she needed a push or she wouldn't get better.
"What's got you looking so thoughtful?" Kensi asked from across the table.
She'd been finally allowed to cross the floor from her bed to the little table next to it on her feet. Someone had to be present when she did but she was allowed too. She had looked so happy and round of herself for doing so that Sam didn't even huff once about the tiny hospital chairs (he swore every hospital got them from the same place).
Kensi was looking at him curiously, her expression open and easy to read. Not hiding behind a wall. For now.
He sighed heavily.
"It not weak to ask for help," Sam said finally in a quiet tone.
Kensi glared at him but it was without her usual heat. She was tired. Of arguing, being angry, being borderline depressed. All of it.
"I should be able to do it myself," she tried to snap but it came out defeated.
"You have literally just come out of a coma and partial paralysis. You're not meant to be doing anything by yourself."
"Way to make a girl feel good about herself," she muttered, almost but not quite pouting.
Sam smiled inwardly, progress. She wasn't angry. A far too familiar emotion these past few days. He supposed anger was better than the previous depression but it still wasn't exactly healthy. Sam was sure Nate would have more to say on that particular subject.
"That's what Deeks is for, not me."
"Straight talking?" Kensi taunted
"Obviously."
They both had a good laugh over that. It was so nice to hear that. He didn't realise how much he missed her snorting laugh (or how often she'd laughed) until she wasn't there to do so.
He decided to take a chance and tell her what he'd wanted to say for the past couple of visits.
"Seriously, Kensi," Sam told her, reaching for her left hand. "Please ask for help."
Kensi opened her mouth in what was a very obvious attempt to say that she didn't need it but Sam shook his head and gave her a pointed look. That's all it took for her to deflate and sigh in defeat.
"It's hard," she admitted, running a hand across her forehead to move the hair that was in the way.
"I know," Sam replied gently, understanding where she was coming from but not wanting to give her an excuse to push them away. "We will never see you as weak."
"What about pathetic," Kensi joked weakly but it fell flat.
Sam just gave her a look.
"I'll try," she added, not looking very convinced at that statement.
He shook his head, "That's not enough. Trying is for people who don't think they can do something. You know you can do this."
"You should really be a motivational speaker, you know," Kensi said idly in an effort to distract him. "You been listening to those audio books again?"
"Kensi."
She looked down at the table, obviously not wanting to look at him.
"You can trust us," he said gently.
"It's not about trust," she said wetly, sniffing.
"It is," Sam insisted. "Every time you don't let us do something you can't or causes you pain, you're saying you don't trust us."
"I'm not, Sam, please," Kensi pleaded, finally looking back up at him. "It's about my independence."
"Something that you're working on but right now you simply can't be."
Kensi's faced played out all the emotions she was feeling. Hurt, worried, angry, annoyed. Even disgust. Each one in quick succession.
"Just let us, please," Sam finished.
Again, no answer. Sam was about to admit defeat when Kensi striated herself up and looked at him properly.
"I will," she said, voice almost a whisper but it was firm.
Sam gave her a long look before nodding, satisfied. He'd hold her to that. A smile returned to his face, something Kensi shyly exchanged.
They fell into a comfortable silence. Sam was happy that he'd finally had his say.
Kensi shifted position needlessly, a sign that she was anxious or nervous about something. Very un-Kensi like behaviour. Sam didn't draw attention to it until
"Um. Care to, uh, give me a back scratch?" Kensi asked him sheepishly, rushing the last half of her request and biting her lower lip.
A grin stretched across his face, hay that she was making a start. A small step, but a step nonetheless.
"But of course," he replied, directing a half bow at her from his seat.
She rolled her eyes at him in a very Kensi-ish manner.
"You're ridiculous," she informed him.
"I'm spending too much alone time with your boyfriend," he retorted, ignoring the anxious look that got him.
"Something you're not telling me, Sam?" she teased.
"Yes, that his ramblings should be placed under the UN's 'Crimes Against Humanity' List. The CIA could use them as a torture technique."
Kensi snorted at his whining.
"It's cruel to make the CIA deal with him. They'd send him back."
Sam cracked his fingers and reached for her, "Indeed. Now where's that itch?"
