"I'm not leaving him."

"Agent Blye–"

"I'll quit if I have to," she says, leveling Granger with a defiant stare. She stands in front of Deeks's slumped body, her stance protective. The gear she brought with her lies discarded by the chair he's bound to.

She had every intention of pushing aside her feelings for him, of forcing herself to do what's expected: magically become emotionless, transform herself into a superhuman, something too good for hindrances such as love and heartache. But there were a couple of seconds when she first saw him bloody and unmoving where she faced the possibility of him being dead, and that's when she knew. There's no way she can leave her partner.

"Then I'll arrest you for interfering with a federal investigation. Kensi, we have to move."

She turns to look at her partner, and his expression can only be described as terrified. She feels tears sting the back of her eyes as she looks at him, a shell of who was less than a day ago. "He wouldn't leave me. And even if he would, I can't."

She crouches beside Deeks again, but keeps talking to Granger. "Make Sam tell Sidorov that when he woke up, Deeks was gone. He must've escaped. We'll make it look like he died as soon as he arrived at the hospital. He's not staying here."

"It won't work. They'll feel compromised and reroute everything."

"Michelle isn't made. We'll still be inside." She cuts her partner's restraints, swinging Deeks's arm around her shoulder before easing him up.

But he's not looking at her. He's looking at Sam.

For the first time, she turns her attention to the former SEAL. "Tell him, Granger. We have to move."

"I…Sam…," Deeks stutters, and she can see blood streaming down the corner of his mouth. His teeth are dyed pink.

"He's more restrained than you are. It wouldn't make sense for him to have escaped. Don't worry about him, okay?"

Granger's relaying the new plan to Sam, and after, the beaten man locks eyes with the detective. He nods slowly, stiffness etched into his body, and Kensi feels gratitude wash over her. She's not sure if Deeks would've left him alone. "He's going to be okay," she promises. "And so will you."

They put him in an unlisted room, having known the hospital's the first place Sidorov would look. They stopped his bleeding, stitched his face, set up a date for reconstructive surgery. He's been out for the past hour, and she's been sitting beside him since.

Her phone rings, and she answers it, hoping that it's not Hetty. She knows there'll be consequences for her impromptu change of plan. She let the personal get in the way of the professional. But, then again, she's only human. And she wasn't going to gamble with her partner's life.

Turns out it's Granger on the phone, informing her that Sam's been admitted. He's in bad condition, but he should be okay.

Deeks wakes up with alarm in his blue eyes not long after. He looks around, takes in the bright room, the machines. His gaze lands on her, and he lets out a breath. "Kens."

The sound of her nickname coming from his lips makes her unexpectedly emotional. She swallows past the sudden lump in her throat and scooches her chair nearer to him, interlacing her fingers with his. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Like I went through hell." His voice is rough and his face is swollen. His jaw's black and purple and puffed up. The doctors told her that they drilled straight to the bone in some places. "But mostly just numb."

If she thinks about what put him in this condition, she'll start crying. He's the one that should be crying, not her, so she forces the thought of psychopathic torturers from her head and focuses on the positive. He's here, he's alive, and he's going to make it.

She nods, looking down at their hands, and thinks about him kissing her. She decides that if there's any time for opening up, it's now. After everything he's been through, he deserves honesty. He shouldn't have to worry about where they stand on top of everything else. "I thought it was my fault when I found you. I thought that he'd killed you, and I thought it was my fault."

"How could it have been your fault?"

"Because I let you get close to me."

"That's crazy."

"Maybe," she agrees, thumbing his hand.

"You saved me," he tells her. "Thinking about your smile, and your laugh…it's the only thing that got me through."

She shakes her head, biting her lip. "Deeks."

"And you got me out of there. You were supposed to leave me, but you didn't."

"I couldn't."

He looks at her, amazed, and she thinks he's going to say something, but for one of the first times throughout their partnership, he's at a loss for words.

She stands up, bending over to place a kiss on his forehead. "You're safe," she says, "but Michelle might not be."

"Let me go with you."

"Okay, now you're the crazy one."

"No, Kens. Sidorov might…I might be able to…"

She surveys him, knowing that he needs this, and that it may be his only opportunity to get the closure he deserves. "Let's go save the day."

They save the day, and he puts four in Sidorov's torso. It's a relief he's gone, but she wishes the miserable bastard could've suffered more.

She doesn't even return to OSP, too wary of what awaits her inside the walls of the Spanish mission, and too drained to deal with anything else. She hasn't slept in over twenty four hours. Her plans for the night involve a hot shower, a warm bed, and not much else.

"Your place or mine?" It's the first time of many that she asks Deeks where he wants to shack up for the night.

He looks at her from across the console, tired and surprised. Then he grins, his lips closed, probably to hide the mess that is the inside of his mouth. Still, even without his gorgeous teeth showing and featuring the addition of awful bruises, his smile is perfect. And the glint in his eyes is refreshing and makes her heart skip a beat because maybe he'll be okay, and maybe they'll make this work. "Seriously?"

She tries to act nonchalant. "If you want."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

She runs him a bath at her place. She lets him soak until she knows there's no way the water could still be warm. When she opens the door, for a second she thinks he's fallen asleep, but him talking proves otherwise. "I'm naked, you know," he says, never opening his eyes.

"I didn't expect you to have clothes on." She approaches the bathtub, sliding down to her knees by his side. "You okay?"

"Probably not. Am I supposed to be?"

"Probably not."

He squints his eyes open, cocking his head. "So, you gonna join me?"

She grins, shaking her head no. He doesn't try to hide his disappointment. "Oh."

Kissing's out of the question, for obvious reason. And she knows that, judging by the bruises on his torso, the rest of his body can't be feeling that great, either. "Just relax," she almost whispers, reaching out to stroke his bangs away from his eyes. "Let me take care of you."

His eyes fly open when she reaches her hand under the water. "Uhhm, what are you doing?"

"Taking care of you."

She places her hand on his chest and her head near his shoulder when they go to bed. "You're not asleep," she observes.

"Neither are you."

"Touché." There's silence for a beat, and then she says, "You know, we should be tired."

"I am. Too tired to sleep."

"Are you hurting?"

"No, well, yes. But that's not what's keeping me awake."

His face is puffy and painful looking. She can't even kiss it better. "Yeah, I know. But he's dead, Deeks. You killed him. You made it."

"I know. I just feel so…shitty."

"That's okay. But you can't let him have a piece of your soul. He's not worth it."

His anguished jaw clenches. "I know that, Kensi. But it's not easy."

"Well, you're right," she concedes. "The weight of what you went through…nobody should have to carry it." Kensi feels his heart beating beneath her palm. She kisses the skin nearest to her face, which happens to be his bicep, and lets her lips linger against his skin. "But you're not alone. I'm right here."

He purses his lips, obviously debating on whether to say something or not. When he talks, his words are carefully chosen. "I don't want you…to have to do this again."

"Do what?"

"Play caretaker. Support me, baby me, take care of me."

"Let's get one thing straight: I'm not a babysitter. Actually, two things. I'm not a babysitter, and you're not Jack. You're you, and you're my partner, and you would do the same for me." She props her elbow against the pillows and rests her head in her palm, looking at him. "I've got your back."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Seemingly satisfied, she lays down again, curling against his side. He wraps his arm around her, and together they begin to drift off.

When she's nearly asleep, she hears him say, "Hey, Kens?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you. For not leaving me. It, uh, it means more than you know."

Her smile's soft and sleep-filled as she snuggles closer to him. "You're welcome."