Challenge two, a week late. / Kensi gets inducted into the Bullet Hole Club with the rest of the cool kids.
Sam expects her to come in with a ring on her finger and pictures from the proposal, but instead the Monday after the Friday Deeks confessed to the former SEAL he was planning on asking Kensi to marry him the couple walk into work together barely looking at one another. There's a frown forming a crease between Kensi's eyebrows, and she looks exhausted. Neither one of the couple offer any words of greeting to Sam, who's trying to nonchalantly catch Deeks's eye. When the LAPD detective finally meets his gaze, which is growing more pointed by the second, he only offers a small shrug.
G, completely unaware of the events that took place over the weekend, notices the partners' behavior. "Trouble in paradise?" he asks, directing it towards Deeks and Kensi. Neither of the pair acknowledges G, and Eric saves them from any further questioning by calling them to ops. Sam falls behind with Deeks, bumping into his shoulder. "So?"
Deeks shakes his head.
"She said no?" Sam asks in disbelief.
He sighs. "Later?"
Deeks is acting like he's taken a beating, and in a way, he probably has. Sam hurts for the detective. He's been there with Michelle, who immediately associated marriage with the loss of her career when they were younger. He didn't propose until he had to, when they found out she was pregnant with Aiden, but not because he hadn't wanted to beforehand. He just knew she wouldn't say yes.
But with a baby on the way, their baby, Michelle knew that their working partnership was already shot to hell. She said yes, and she was in her third trimester when they eloped. She had their son less than a week after exchanging vows.
Now, Sam wonders if Kensi and Deeks originally considered their future together when their resistance wore too thin, as his and Michelle's had inevitably done. Had they understood that eventually they had to stop working together if they ever wanted their thing to go anywhere? While they joked about blue eyed ninja assassins, did they realize that Kensi would be tethered to that little human, that one of them would have to quit?
Flames, sex, dating, and I love yous, sure, but Sam had known that as soon as he slipped a ring on her finger, one of them would never be able to participate in their task force again. And when she had Aiden, the dynamic completely changed. They had to move in together, they agreed that she should take some time off and she resigned, and they became completely different types of partners. He loved his family - still does, more than the world - but seeing Michelle, so reckless and badass and completely undomesticated (before Aiden they ate take-out basically every night) force herself to change took a toll on both of them. Especially Michelle.
When he came home late at night, smelling like smoke and guns and forcing himself to calm down even though adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, the guilt was almost enough to make him want to quit and let her have his position. But the idea of the mother of his child surrounded by people who want her dead without him there to back her up made a protectiveness build inside of him, a feeling with a magnitude he'd never experienced before, never thought existed. And also, some smaller, selfish part of him knew that he couldn't do what she did - stay at home, change diapers, suppress her need for the high that only comes when she's chasing bad guys and saving the world.
He told Kensi he made a lot of mistakes when Aiden was young, and he hadn't been lying. He let Michelle suffer. He'd catch her, vacant eyed and holding their child, and in those moments he never knew what to say to her. He knew that 'I'm sorry' wouldn't suffice and he knew that he couldn't make it better for her, so he didn't try.
When he looks at Kensi and Deeks, he sees himself and his wife. Maybe he shouldn't - they're their own people after all, with their own very complex and very unique love story - but he knows that their love could easily become destructive, if they aren't careful. And despite what Michelle went through, what they went through together, he wouldn't change where he is today for anything. Which is why when Deeks confided in him, telling him that he was going to ask Kensi to marry him, he smiled and thumped his back and encouraged him. After everything, if there's one thing he's learned it's that love is worth it. Kensi and Deeks might, somehow, someway, manage to figure out how to remain partners if they decide to get married, and they might end up together in the end, despite the odds.
He has a pretty good idea of what happened when they first crossed the line together. They probably threw caution to the wind, lived in the moment, and they'd been 'living in the moment' until Deeks apparently decided he wanted something more. A family? Probably, but maybe he just wanted to see her in a white dress and have her take his last name. Because the simple truth is that they love each other, and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.
Which, who can blame the guy for wanting to spend the rest of his days with somebody he loves, somebody he's gone to hell and back for? And Sam knows they deserve it. But he's said it himself, and so has Callen - they need to be prepared for the consequences. Truly prepared, not yeah whatever let's get hitched prepared. Sam figures that when Deeks got down on one knee, Kensi saw everything she could potentially have to give up, and none of the things she could gain. But he sees the way she interacts with Kam, the way she looks at Deeks with kids, and he's almost positive she'll come around. Or at least, he hopes she will, for both her and Deeks's sake.
He can barely focus on the briefing of the case in ops, because Kensi's rubbing a thumb over her ring finger. Her bare ring finger. His head jerks up when he hears his name coming from Hetty, telling him that he and Kensi will be driving to a warehouse where some meet's supposed to happen, but they don't know what time. Just what he needs, a stakeout with the woman who rejected him the night before.
He refrains from sighing. They approach the car in silence, and he feels her eyes on him as his look anywhere but at her. After half of the drive in silence, she says, "Deeks, look-"
He shakes his head, cutting her off. "Can we just... not right now? Please."
She reaches for his hand, her voice taking on an edge of desperation as she squeezes his fingers. "No, Deeks, we have to talk about it. Communication, remember?"
"What is there to communicate, Kens? You don't want to marry me. That's, that's fine." His tone's flat, dejected. Honestly, after last night, he just doesn't have a lot left in him.
She frowns. "Last night was so perfect. It was amazing."
"Was. You said no, Kensi." He doesn't try to keep the hurt out of his voice for her sake. He's done with going above and beyond only for her not to reciprocate any of what he does. "You won't even tell me why. Guess I'm not worth an explanation."
"Come on, Deeks."
"You don't even have a good reason why you said no. Just to take me down a notch."
"God, Deeks, no. I never wanted to hurt you. I wouldn't-"
"Then why?" he interrupts. "Why did you?"
"I'm scared," she admits, watching as his hands clench the steering wheel tighter. She faces him across the console, ashamed of the truth.
"Why are you scared?"
"Dammit, Deeks. I don't know."
"You scared we won't last?"
"What? No."
"You scared I won't take care of you?"
"You do. You will."
"You're scared I'm going to leave you."
She doesn't say anything. She looks straight ahead, over the dash.
He knows she has issues, having naively hoped that they were resolved in Afghanistan. But she has to know by now that he would never walk away from her. He doesn't know what to do to make her see. "I've told you so many times it doesn't mean anything to you anymore, but I would never, Kens. Not if I had any say in it."
She sighs, frowning. "I know."
"Then why?"
She plays with his fingers absently, looking at him but not really. "White dresses, suburban life... kids, it's so far from who we are, Deeks."
"Don't you want it?" He thinks back to the undercover assignment that turned them into a married couple for a few weeks, how she opened up to him, admitted that she liked the setting, the idea of a white picket fence and a husband, the whole nine yards.
"Our normal is so different from everybody else's."
"Everybody's different. We don't have to change. It's just a piece of paper and a ceremony."
"We're partners. In every sense of the word. People try to kill us almost everyday. One of us would have to quit."
"Neither of us would quit," he dismisses. "We've made it work so far, haven't we?"
"Yeah, but-"
"Nothing's going to change," he interrupts with insistence, needing her to believe him. "You'll have my last name, if you want it, we'll go home to a house together instead of hopping from one apartment to the other, and you'd wear a ring on your finger. That's it." He glances across at her for the first time when she's unable to argue. "Listen, I see the way you look at little families when we're out. One day, you're going to decide that you want that, and it's going to be too late, because you never planned ahead for the future that you think you could maybe want."
She sighs, running a hand through her hair, a habit she picked up from him. "You can't...rush this. We haven't been dating that long, not even a year..."
"We've basically been living together for a year and a half, we've been exclusive to each other for almost three... If you had it your way, we'd wait until a condom breaks and then go into panic mode, or wait until we're both grey haired and all of your eggs have shriveled up."
She parks across the street of a nondescript warehouse, tight-lipped, unable to deny the truth in his words.
"I mean, marriage is just a commitment, and we committed to each other a long time ago." He still sees apprehension in her eyes when he looks at her. He runs his thumb over her hand, feeling a wary sort of hope, afraid to get ahead of himself after her reaction to his proposal last night. But, against his better judgement, he feels optimistic. "It's scary. I know it is. But we're being bold together, right?"
She nods, smiling a little. He raises her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "Think about it?"
She's about to tell him she will when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye. "They're here. Call it in."
"Showtime."
She loves him. She didn't reject him to make him feel like shit, even though that's probably what he thinks. Thank God he's not giving up - he's fighting for her, giving her all the chances she needs, even if she doesn't really deserve his patience and devotion.
She's changed, they both have. She initiated an admission of love that ended with them happily ever after...sort of. And now she could be throwing everything away. Why? Because she's scared.
She may have let him in, opened up to him, confessed that he makes her so much better, blossomed from who she was before, the worst second date girl in town that shied away from any sort of commitment. But she's still Kensi, and as much as she likes to hijack wedding magazines from the doctor's and despite the fact that looking at babies makes her basically want to attack her boyfriend and make one before her biological clock runs out of time, marriage terrifies her. He tries to make it out like it isn't a big deal, but if he really doesn't care that much, then why does he press it? Why did he even ask?
She wants to marry him. But, as if them sleeping together isn't enough, two agents married? Partners, nonetheless? If Hetty objected so much after they couldn't stand four years of mounted sexual tension any longer that she forcefully separated them by sending her to Afghanistan, then surely they couldn't continue to work side by side if they decided to marry.
She's starting to realize - and it's scary, because she's always prioritized their partnership the most - that jeopardizing the chances of ever having a family, ever taking his name, because of a job is senseless. Their future as a couple, their love, should be prioritized more than the possibility of separating their careers. It's just that them together, working, is all she's ever known with Deeks. That's where their relationship stemmed from, saving the world together, having each other's backs. The prospect of having to let that go is beyond terrifying.
She's good at her job, they're good at it together. They kick ass, and they look good doing it. It's who they are - crazy, fierce, intuitive partners in crime that save the world together, and then go home to one another. Would a ring on her finger and a few vows change any of it?
Maybe she's over thinking it. Actually, she's sure she is. Because looking at Deeks, all blonde hair and instructive blue eyes as he leads her closer to the warehouse, she knows that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. She wants to wake up with him every morning, pretend to hate the equal parts awful and equal parts adorable nicknames he comes up with for her, and she never wants to live in a world without his stupid jokes.
But as soon as she decides she wants to tell him she's changed her mind, it starts looking like she may never get the chance. Backup's less than a minute out, so they go ahead and sneak into the building, yelling federal agents! when Callen and Sam say they've arrived. Unfortunately, criminals rarely listen when told to drop their weapons, and Kensi feels something burning through her skin, and then, numbness. She hits the ground and looks down at her chest to confirm that, yes, she's been shot. Seeing the blood spreading from a point in her chest, the dark hole in her shirt, makes the reality of what happened hit her, along with the pain. It comes in crippling waves, accompanied by awful nausea, and she wonders if this is it.
Black spots appear in her vision, so it's only his voice screaming her name that lets her know he's the one dragging her away. Vaguely, quieter than the ringing in her ears, she hears Callen and Sam announce their presence and Deeks yelling across that they need an ambulance. She cries out when he presses his palm to where she was shot, but after that explosion of pain, everything starts fading. The room, the agony, his voice.
She hears him begging her to stay with him, telling her that she can't do this to him, and every pivotal moment between them seems to come back to her, starting at the gym and ending with him on one knee. And she forces herself, despite the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, to talk. Because if this is the end, she can't have him doubting her feelings for him after last night, all because she's a coward, afraid of a white dress and a marriage license. She tells him around a mouth full of blood, her words broken, "I want to marry you." And then she feels a tear fall down her cheek, because she knows she's telling the truth, and for things to end this way doesn't seem fair. It makes sense, one of them going out like this, and she'd rather it be her than him, but it's so cruel that as soon as they get their shit together, tragedy tears them apart.
"You will," he promises, and through the haze, she sees tear-filled blue eyes staring down at her, feels his hands push against her, terror written on his features. "It'll be the best damn wedding in the world. I promise. You just gotta hang in there, you gotta stay with me..."
She can't. She wants to tell him that she's sorry, as she listens to his words fall away, and she opens her mouth, but nothing comes. She closes her eyes.
She stares up at him as he rambles, acting for a second like she wants to say something, but then her clouded, pain-filled, gorgeous eyes close. He cradles her head and wipes a tear from her cheek, his resolve crumbling as he feels her heartbeat slow beneath the hand that he has pressed to her chest. "Kensi," he breathes, the tears he'd been forcing not to let fall spilling down his cheeks. "Oh God."
He hears sirens drawing closer as he starts counting compressions, forcing her heart to beat for her. He presses his lips to hers, gives her his breath, all the while praying that their last kiss won't be like this.
When the medics come, Callen and Sam grab him, pulling him away from her. He knows how he must look, wild-eyed, covered in her blood, barely able to keep standing. He can't tear his eyes away from her, lying on the ground, blood saturating the entirety of her white t-shirt, which is almost exactly the same as his, red stains and all.
It hits him, when the medics pull out the defibrillator, that she's dead. Something breaks inside of him, and a sick sense of déjà vu takes him back to the last time he thought he lost her. He swears his own heart stops beating as he watches, waiting for her to come back to him, or choose to stay wherever she is.
He needs her. He needs her in his life, backing him up, smiling at him under the sheets, giving him a hug and a kiss at the end of a long day; he needs her by his side.
The crushing sorrow is followed with guilt. Why didn't he make sure she was covered?
He watches her fight for her life on the pavement, and he thinks, I'm sorry. God, Kensi. I'm so sorry. If it had to be one of them, it should've been him. If he had her back, if he did his job, it would've been him.
She's far from perfect, but he doesn't look at her imperfections the same way she does. When she cries after startling awake from a nightmare or while she's decompressing following a hard case, she tells him that she's weak. But her ability to control her emotions and then allow herself to break down in front of him makes her so beautiful to him. Her vulnerability reminds him that she's not made of steel.
When their partnership first began, she was unapproachable and guarded. And she scared him, because ordinary people shouldn't be able to pull triggers without blinking, fatally shoot a dozen people and then go home and come back the next day and do it again. But he soon learned that, despite her cold exterior, Kensi breathes and sleeps and definitely eats the same way everybody else does. And later, he learned that she cries like everybody else, when doing what she does gets to be too much.
She's human. She's reckless, badass, immeasurably strong, but she's human, and today reaffirms it more than anything. Because she bleeds like everybody else does, too.
The medics get her heart beating long enough to load her onto the ambulance, and he tries to shove past Callen and Sam to get to her. They stop him, grabbing his arms, and even though he fights them, they're able to restrain him long enough for the ambulance to speed away. "Let them do their job," Callen says. "I know you hate it, but there's nothing you can do for her now."
"We'll take you to the hospital," Sam tells him, steering him away from the bloody scene where his partner may have met her end. "Come on, Deeks."
Deeks clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white, turning stiff shoulders away from the scene as he climbs into the back of the challenger. When they're on the road, going thirty over, Deeks asks, "Are they all dead?" Everything had been chaos. He can hardly recall the actual firefight, but in his head, Kensi falls to the ground in slow motion.
"Yes," Callen assures.
"She's going to be okay," Sam promises.
Deeks tries to speak past the lump in his throat. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
The rest of the ride, which takes less than half the time it would've had they been going the speed limit, is filled with apprehensive silence. By the time they get there, Kensi's already in surgery. Meaning all he can do is sit in the waiting room, replaying what happened in his head, tearing through every detail.
Sam and Callen stayed long enough for an update about Kensi and then went to close the case, but four hours later, they're back. Deeks hasn't moved. When Sam sits next to him, he doesn't look away from the floor tile he's been studying for half an hour. The former SEAL asks, "How you holding up?"
Deeks shakes his head. "I don't know."
"Heard anything about Kensi?"
"No." He really doesn't get what's taking so long. Blood transfusions and whatever else should be relatively conventional. "She's been in there a while. Something's wrong."
"Maybe not," Sam counters softly, and he clasps Deeks's shoulder, shaking him until he looks away from the floor. The detective's blue eyes are red rimmed and puffy.
"I can't lose her, man."
"I know. She'll pull through. Have some faith."
Deeks feels his breath catch. Her heart stopped beating while he was holding her. That's something he's never going to be able to let go of. "She died. I lost her. And I couldn't..." He can't continue. His throat's closing up, the tightness from behind his Adam's apple cutting off any words. If anything else comes out of his mouth, it's going to be a sob. Or a scream.
"You saved her. You kept her heart going. That was you."
Her getting shot, that's on him, too. He doesn't tell Sam, knowing that he wouldn't be having any of it. But he almost got her killed.
He reaches into his pocket for his lifeline, the single object that represents everything he hopes for, everything they want, one day. Everything they almost got taken away from them.
"The ring."
"Yeah," Deeks manages to say as he flips open the little box he's been clutching in his fist since he first arrived at the hospital.
"Nice," Sam notes, taking in the princess cut, good sized diamond on an obviously custom gold band. "Did you sell a kidney so you could afford this or start making meth?"
"Been saving."
"Must have, to afford this rock." Sam takes the box from him, removing the ring and holding it at eye level between his thumb and his pointer. "What happened, Deeks?"
Deeks sighs, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. He thinks back to the night before, a night that had started out like a dream and ended like a nightmare.
"We're going to be late." Deeks runs a hand through his hair, trying to stop nervously tapping his hand on his thigh.
"Late for what?" Kensi calls from the bathroom where she's applying lipstick, leaning from the open door to look at him.
"For the twentieth time, it's a surprise. I can't tell you, 'cause then it won't be a surprise anymore."
"I hate surprises," Kensi says, which is exactly what he does not need to hear.
"You'll like this one." Please like this one.
"Almost," she drawls, still primping. And then she finally, mercifully decides that she's ready, and she stands in front of him on the threshold in all of her did-up glory. "Done."
He smiles at her, knowing his eyes are probably popping out of his head right about now, because, damn, his girlfriend is hot. "Beautiful."
He realizes he's still staring at her, taking her in, when she steps up to him, grabbing his hand. "Didn't you say we're going to be late for something?"
Their reservations were set for twenty minutes ago, but for the price he paid, he knows he doesn't need to worry. The beach itself is crowded, which is nothing but usual and expected for Venice. They're away from the commercial beach, on the mouth of Marina Del Rey. "I'm a little dressed up for the pier," Kensi says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.
"Patience, Kensi-san." He takes her hand, leading her past crowds of bikini-clad beach goers, families, shoppers, and surfers. The crowd thins as they reach what appears to be an upscale restaurant with a line of people dressed just a nice as Kensi streaming out of it. Nowhere near as lovely, of course, but neither of them feel out of place anymore.
He knows they look good together, her in a black, curve hugging scoop neck, all perfect curls and tan legs, and him in a baby blue button down that she picked out for him to wear. He sprayed on his favorite cologne; he can barely keep her off of him (not that he puts up much of a fight) when he has it on. It was funny, before they were together, catching her breathing in the scent he left behind when he'd wear it to work, and she'd blush even though he valued his life and therefore didn't call her out on her painfully obvious attraction to his smell. She, as always, smells like sunshine and gunpowder, but a little more like sunshine today, considering it's a Sunday and they haven't been around firearms since Friday. He figured out her perfume - Daisy, Marc Jacobs. Probably the best smelling stuff in the whole world, that is, when she wears it and gets it all mixed up with lead and charcoal and sulfur.
He takes his smoking hot girlfriend by the hand and leads her past the line of hungry people who eye them, most with jealous contempt and a good portion with desire, either directed at him or her. He pulls her closer, ignoring the hosts and waiters, guiding her to the terrace, which is completely void of people. There's a table set for two lit by candles and paper lanterns and moonlight, and in the dull lighting they can just make out ships sailing on the ocean that they have a spectacular view of.
"What is this?" she asks, her face alight with wonder as she squeezes his hand.
He kisses the side of her head, pulling out her chair for her when he replies, "Dinner."
"It's..." She looks around, then down at the spread in front of her. "Wow."
He grins. "Still feel overdressed? See the things that happen when you let me take care of you?"
"This is amazing. You know you didn't have to do all of this."
"You're worth it," he says with a smile, looking at her like she's a sky full of stars.
She blushes, looking away from him and down at her lap, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. So adorable, he thinks with a smile. Making Kensi Blye blush is one of his life's awesome little pleasures. He pulls a bottle of her favorite wine, Château d'Yquem, from an ice bath, and she looks at him with wide eyes. "Um, what are we celebrating?"
"Hmm?"
"A bottle of that stuff costs, like, two grand."
He laughs. "No. Half that."
"A thousand?!"
Deeks shrugs, trying not to think about what his bank account's going to look like by the time the night's over with. But he's not overly concerned. He works hard for his money, knows where his next check is coming from, and wants this night to be perfect. He pours each of them a glass. "Don't worry about it."
Before she can ignore him and continue worrying about it, a waiter emerges from the inside of the restaurant, which is filled to the brim. He retreats with their orders and their menus, and Deeks takes a sip of his last paycheck.
"Worth it," he decides out loud, and she's about to argue, but he cuts her off. "Try it."
She complies, humming around her glass. "Wow. Okay." She takes another sip, trying to refrain from finishing off the glass. "This is really...fancy, Deeks. What's going on?"
Of course his super spy secret agent girlfriend picked up on the fact that something must be going on other than just a night out. He tries not to let his nerves take over, but it's so hard, when she's looking at him from across the table, her mosaic eyes seeing right through him. Sometimes he wonders if she can read his mind. "Just wanted to treat you, because I love you."
"I know. I...I love you, too."
"Then just enjoy dinner with me, okay? We're making memories together, and a hundred years from now we can tell our great-great-granbabies about what a charmer Pop Pop Deeks is."
She snorts, rolling her eyes. "Hate to break it to you, but in a hundred years, we'll be dead."
"Okay, then, fifty years from now. I bet you're still going to be kicking ass with your walker, by the way."
"I bet you'll lose all of that pretty hair."
He raises his glass, smiling at her. "A toast," he announces, and she does that simultaneous head shake/eye roll thing that shouldn't be as cute as it is.
"To?"
"Fifty more awesome years. Together." With the hand that isn't holding her drink, she reaches across the table, interlacing their fingers together as she clicks her glass against his.
"To fifty more awesome years," she agrees, taking a sip of her drink before adding, "together."
"Sounds like everything was going good," Sam interrupts, confused.
Deeks rubs his hand over his face, a cloud of fatigue settling over him. "It was. Perfect. Everything I thought it would be."
"What happened?"
The meal was just as amazing as the wine, and now a cool ocean breeze rolls off of the tide, carrying the crisp sent of the ocean. Kensi's smiling at one of his jokes, looking completely at peace. He thinks, this is it.
He stands up, and she watches him, a question on her lips, before he kneels next to her, taking her hand in his on her lap. Her eyes cloud with confusion and shock, and he takes out the little box, hoping that she doesn't notice how much his hand is shaking when he goes to open it. She closes her hand around his, stopping him from revealing the ring, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry," she tells him, and her voice breaks. "I can't."
His voice trembles when he asks, "Why?"
The only answer he gets is her shaking her head. She stands up, walks to the balcony, and stares out at the ocean, looking like something out of a movie with Venice in the background, her hair blowing in wisps around her damp eyes, the stars sparkling above her, the only witnesses to the scene below them.
"Why?" he asks again, his voice firm as he stands up. "Don't I at least deserve an explanation, Kensi? I thought you... I thought what we had wasn't just some-"
"It's not," she swears, her voice unstable but firm. "It's not."
"Then marry me, Kensi."
He walks up to her with purpose, the box carrying her ring still clutched in his hand, and he stops to stand just behind her. "Marry me." It's half a question, half insistence, still hopeful, even after her first rejection.
Her reply breaks his heart, completely rips it in two. It's barely more than a whisper, but it resonates inside of him. She might as well have screamed it. "No."
His body slumps in defeat, then, and he turns away from her, walking towards the door without saying anything else. He could profess his love for her in a thousand different ways, pore out his heart, talk to her for hours about how committed he is to her, but he doesn't. She doesn't want to marry him, and he's not sure if he's okay with it. He thinks that maybe he should be used to not being good enough, but this is so different, so much more. This is Deeks and Kensi, Kensi and Deeks, and because of that, because of the feelings he has for her after what they've been through together, this just about kills him.
"Deeks," she calls after him, like he's a petulant child. And then, he can picture her bottom lip quivering, her sad eyes (like she has real reason to be sad) flashing with anger and a hint of desperation as she yells his name again.
But he doesn't turn around. He pays the insane bill, walks to the car by himself, and waits for her in the Cadillac. She comes dredging through the crowd, make-up smeared, eyes searching for his when she finds the car. He doesn't look at her.
At home, they change and get ready for bed in silence. When she reaches for him under the sheets, trying to curl against his side like she usually does, he turns away from her. And she lies awake until the lighting in the room shifts, hating herself for her cowardice, and hating herself even more for breaking Deeks's heart.
"She'll come around. She's never been good with confrontations, you know that."
"I hope she does. But right now I just want her to pull through this."
Callen interrupts any further conversation when he comes through the doors of the waiting room with a cup holder containing three cups of coffee. "Heard anything?" G asks as he distributes the drinks.
"No," Deeks answers, nodding his thanks when G hands him the caffeinated beverage. After almost six hours, it's nearing midnight. He wants to tell the guys they don't have to stay all night, but he knows they're going to leave when they see fit, and he doesn't have to speak on Kensi's behalf. She's important to them, too.
He's nervous, scared out of his mind, and sick to his stomach. The thought of losing her is too much. And he's not even sure if she's out of the woods yet.
He doesn't take out his frustrations on the old lady manning the front desk. He waits, and he prays, because that's all he can do for Kensi.
The hours tick by. Three AM's right around the corner when a nurse finally approaches them. He tries to prepare himself for the worst, but the thought of her in a plastic bag is enough to make him lose his mind. He wants to ask, Is she dead? but instead he waits for the ponytail and blue scrubs to start talking.
"The bullet entered near her heart, fractured her collarbone on contact, deflected, and ended up where it started. Internal bleeding was causing pressure to build inside her chest, so we had to take care of that, and she lost over three and a half pints of blood. The compressions from the CPR resulted in fractures to two of her ribs."
"God," Deeks murmurs, trying to figure out how she made it. The last time he saw her she was gone, but somehow, she pulled through. How, he may never know.
"She's pretty touch and go, but she's tough. We lost her once on the table, and we thought she was done fighting, but she came back."
"Is she out of surgery?"
"Yes. But she's in ICU, and we're not sure if she's ready for visitors. The anesthetics going to keep her out for a while, anyway."
He can't wait out here anymore. Not when he knows that she's out of surgery, barely hanging on. "Please. She's my fiancée. I need to see her." He's not sure if he's lying about the status of their relationship, but she doesn't have to know.
"Just one visitor for the night," the nurse concedes, eyeing Sam and Callen. "And family only, for now."
"I'll grab a bag from your house," Callen offers. "What do you need?"
Deeks thanks him and lists off a handful of items. Sam says he's going home to Michelle and Kam, and to keep him updated. "Hang in there" are his parting words.
The nurse leads him to her room. Kensi's face is colorless, her right arm's in a sling, and if it weren't for the beeping monitors, she could pass for dead. He tells himself over and over again that she isn't, but coming so close to losing her made him subconsciously try to brace himself for the pain (not that he could ever be prepared for a life without Kensi).
"Hey, princess," he whispers, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead. She had showered before getting ready for the date the night before and therefore hadn't before work, so he can still catch the scent of sun-kissed daisies on her skin. Her familiar perfume sends him into sensory overload, and he thinks back to when she asked him how he would describe the way she smells. Then he's thinking about kissing her on the motorcycle, telling her that her smile and her laugh were solely responsible for pushing him through his torture. They've come so far to be in this hospital room together with her engagement ring in his pocket.
"You need to wake up for me, Kensi," he tells her, stroking back her hair. "You can tell me to stop sniffing you like a freak." He kisses her cheek before sitting down and taking her hand. "But I know you. Nothing comes between you and sleep. Not even me, and I'm practically irresistible. You're going to take full advantage of this opportunity to lay your butt in bed and sleep."
Obviously, she doesn't respond. But that doesn't stop him from rambling more. "Sorry about your ribs, babe. You can kick my ass for cracking them when you get better. Promise."
"I know, I know. You're trying to sleep. Sorry." He sounds crazy. Great. So what if he feels to need to have a one-sided conversation with his unconscious girlfriend? He sighs, scratching his head, looking at her indisposed, lovely face. "Sleep tight, Kensi."
"You need to get some air," Callen tells Deeks the next day. Red Bull cans fill up the trash can in the corner of the room, and G debates on whether or not to hand Deeks the coffee he picked up for him. "And change clothes. You look like a zombie. A zombie that needs to shave."
"Yes, mom," Deeks complies, snatching the coffee from his hand and going to the bathroom to change into the clothes Callen brought him. Cargo shorts and a lightweight tee.
When he steps out with his new clothes, Callen asks, "When do they say she's supposed to wake up?"
"They said it could take up to twenty four hours for the anesthetic to wear off, and then however long she wants to keep us waiting."
"Why don't you let me sit with her? You need to get breakfast and go outside."
"Not hungry," Deeks replies automatically, sipping the coffee.
"You need to eat."
"You're going to be a great mother some day. I mean it."
Callen ignores him, taking the seat on the other side of the bed. "Getting shot sucks."
Deeks feels a pang of phantom pain where his bullet holes are. "Yes, it does."
"You broke her rib. And her shooting arm's in a sling. She's going to be pissed."
"I'm mentally preparing myself for her to kick my ass, trust me."
G smirks. "That's Kensi for you."
"Wouldn't want her any other way."
G watches the way he looks at Kensi, his eyes bloodshot and surrounded by bags, the smile that had been tugging at the corner of his lips replaced with a frown when he sees his unresponsive girlfriend. "Heard you proposed."
Deeks chuckles. "That piece of shit."
"Sam loves to gossip. You know that he's basically a fifteen year old girl under that SEAL exterior, right?"
Deeks just grins, reaching into his pocket for the box, which is warm from him holding it so often.
"She said no?"
"We talked. Right before... Anyway, she's been through a lot. She told me she was scared. Admitted to it and everything. I should've talked to her before. I mean, we're not even living together. But my mindset was, you know, I'm not getting any younger."
G surveys the detective, trying to surmise how Deeks feels about the whole proposal situation. He doesn't seem completely disheartened by any means. And G knows, after years of watching their relationship develop, of watching Kensi display her affection for him and support him in the things that he does, that her feelings for him are just as serious as his are for her. "You think she'll reconsider?"
"I hope so. I'm ready for something else, G. And I think we could make it work."
"If anybody can, it's you guys." He stretches, standing up. "Well, I guess if you're going to insist on becoming a hermit, I'll have to bring you some breakfast. Bagel or donut?"
"Don't care. As long as you bring me a coffee."
He watches as Deeks jitters, his leg shaking seemingly against his will. He makes a mental note to make it half decaf. "If Kensi knows we got Dunkin' Donuts without her, she'll be pissed. Maybe I should get a dozen with chocolate sprinkles as a get well present."
Deeks smiles, thinking about her junk food addiction. "She'd like that."
"See you after while. At least consider a cat nap while I'm gone? You look like hell. She's not going anywhere."
Deeks can't sleep. The nurses told him that if anything were to go wrong, it already would've. G's right, she's not going anywhere. But that doesn't stop him from irrationally fearing that if he closes his eyes, when he opens them she'll be gone.
G leaves, and he releases his hold on the ring in his pocket for her hand. "Here that? G's bringing you donuts. I know, he's gonna be your favorite for awhile. Probably until I break you out of here." He squeezes her fingers. "You better wake up soon, so they'll be nice and fresh, just like you like them."
He mindlessly watches TV because he feels a like a creep just staring at her, however well-meaning his intentions may be. G drops off a dozen chocolate caked donuts, a warm bagel for him, and a large cup of coffee that Deeks has a suspicion is decaf. "What do I owe you?" Deeks asks him as he gets ready to leave for the second time, this time bound for OSP to give everybody an update on Kensi.
"A beer, one day." He squeezes Deeks's shoulder as he turns to leave. "Take care of her."
"Always do. Thanks, man."
He sits by her bed for hours after G leaves, only getting up to piss out the coffee that was definitely decaf. He stifles a yawn when a nurse comes in to check her vitals. She looks over Kensi at him with sympathetic eyes. "Shouldn't be too much longer."
"Yeah, um, how much longer are we looking at? Because it's gonna take me five years to detox all of the caffeine I've put in my body."
She smiles, trading out Kensi's IV line for a different bag of fluid. "Mostly depends on her, but I'd say another two, three hours. She might surprise us, though."
"Nah, she hates surprises," Deeks says, half to himself. "Hey, want a donut?"
She raises her eyebrows. "What?" he asks, holding out the box to her. He's already had three, not because he's particularly hungry, more because he's bored out of his mind. "Go ahead."
She removes one of her gloves and reaches for a pastry, smiling carefully. "Um, thanks." She takes a bite, turning her attention back to Kensi, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Her stats are looking good. No sign of infection, the breaks were pretty clean. I'd say she'll fare pretty well considering what she's been through, when it's all said and done."
"That's good to know. Thank you."
"Just doing my job," the nurse says. She raises the donut up as she turns to leave. "Thanks again."
When she's gone, he leans closer to Kensi. "I know you'd be pissed if you knew I was giving away your donuts. But the thing is, you'll never know. Sucks being unconscious." No response. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
He's nodding off, his brain losing the fight to his body, when he hears her. It's faint, barely there, but it sends him flying to his feet. Her eyes are closed, but her lips move as her eyebrows knit together. "Deeks."
"Hey, hey, I'm here. I'm right here."
She groans, and he presses the call button for the nurses. He strokes her hair away from her pain-filled features, telling her that everything's going to be okay.
"What... what..." She doesn't seem able to get her words out. A hoard of nurses, including the one he gave a donut to, interrupt her from forming her sentence. She calls for him, through the mass of scrubs.
"Can you guys please just take it easy for a while? Let her get her bearings?"
The nurses look at each other, coming to a silent consensus. "Let me just check her vitals and make sure everything's normal, okay?" Donut Girl says, and Deeks nods his gratitude as the majority of the nurses exit.
"Thanks, Deeks," Kensi forces out, reaching for her side with the arm that isn't in a sling.
"I know I'm your knight in shining armor, you don't have to thank me."
"Good to see you awake," the nurse says. "Can you tell me how you're feeling?"
The crease in her forehead deepens. "Can't... talk. S'not normal."
"Slurring's almost a given after being under. Should wear off pretty soon. Just practice talking, if you can."
Deeks pours her a glass of water from a pitcher. He instructs her to sip slowly, and she ignores him, gulping down the water and ending up in a coughing fit, grabbing at her ribs.
He winces, pressing the button on the side of the bed to adjust her into a sitting position. "Should've listened to me." She glares at him, still clutching her side.
"Feels like... like a truck hit me."
"Pain button," Donut Girl says, holding up a plastic circle. "Use it." She hits it once for her.
"If anything seems wrong, press the call button," she tells Deeks on the way out.
He nods, turning his attention to his girlfriend when they're finally alone. "They said half an inch to the left, you'd be gone." He shakes his head, stroking her hand as he brings it to his lips. "Never scare me like that again."
She tugs at his hand with what little strength she has. "Come on," she demands, whimpering as she tries to move over.
"Take it easy."
She shakes her head when he tries to resist, scowling. "Come on."
Somehow they end up fitting in the bed together, their legs all tangled up, his arm wrapped around her slender frame, mindful of her fractures. "The bullet shattered your collarbone, caused a lot of pressure to build up in your chest. And, uh, two of your ribs got fractured, which was kinda my fault. When I was administering CPR."
She shoves him, but she's so weak, it tickles more than anything. "Hurts," she admits, snuggling against his side.
"I know it does. But you're alive." He turns his face into her hair, shamelessly breathing her in, holding her as close as he can with her injuries. "We lost you, for a little while there."
"I'm okay," she tells him, as she has so many times before. "I will be."
"You will," he agrees, knowing that he'll make sure of that.
He kisses her head, feeling her breathe against him. She holds onto the arm that encircles her waist, relaxing against him as much as she can. "Can we get married?"
"Now? If you insist. I, Martin Andrew Deeks, take thee, Kensi Marie Blye, to be my lawfully wedded -"
"Shhh..." she interrupts, placing her finger against his lips, tilting her head to look up at him. "When I go home... next year, August? Or... September. And a buffet."
He laughs. Of course her first concern is the food arrangements. "We'll have a buffet."
"Lots of beer," she says dismissively, like a large amount of booze is already a given. "And some of that good stuff... for us. The..."
"Chateau d'yquem. Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought. Or at least, you've given the food a lot of thought."
"I wanna get married." She rests her head against his chest. "I lied. I was scared. Now I'm not."
"So if I asked you now, if I got down on one knee -"
"Don't move," she half begs, groaning at the idea of readjusting.
"But you'd say yes? And not because the hospital has you doped up on something good?"
"Yes. Don't have to ask."
He takes the little box out of his pocket, putting the ring on her finger for her. She lets out a breath, holding the ring closer to her face. "So pretty."
"You like it?"
"Perfect," she says, putting her good hand on his cheek. He closes the distance between them so that she doesn't have to, beyond grateful that he got another chance to kiss his girlfriend. His fiancée. Holy shit.
Her lips are soft and the kiss is warm. He winds his hand through her hair behind the pillow, deepening the kiss, her hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck. She moans against his mouth, and he isn't sure if it's because he's hurting her or because she's as turned on as he it, but either way, he knows he needs to stop. Her eyes flash with frustration when he pulls away, and he just smiles at her, resting his forehead against hers.
She looks into his blue eyes, and he knows that she's seeing the fatigue written as clear as day on his face. "You look like hell. Sleep," she commands, tucking her head against his shirt once again. She kisses his chest through the cotton, her lips nearly touching the bullet hole that matches hers.
"Can't pull off the rugged look?"
She ignores him, closing her eyes and nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. He tucks her head beneath his chin, and having her warm body pressed against his gives him the reassurance that he needs. He lets his eyes shut, knowing that she's going to be okay.