AN: Wow. This is a first. Bad ass—well, you all know me as bookdiva—so bad ass bookdiva (Hehe, that sounds funny) actually cried at the ending scene. (For those of you who know my name, laugh it up! That was just for you!) I thought I was going to be playing episode 10 Densi moments over and over through out the hiatus, but I gotta tell you… that ending scene?! Wow.

So, please enjoy the product of my sleepless night. I'm sure the second chapter of Do Not Run will be up this week, but I also have finals, so I'm not sure…

Blessings,

(bad ass) bookdiva

I did it, I thought to myself as I sat at my desk, not doing paperwork, simply waiting for Deeks to return. I communicated. This… this is going to work.

I smiled at the lightness I felt—I hadn't felt this light since before… before Monica.

"You waiting for Deeks?" Callen asked.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging as casually as I could.

"Pack your things, Agent Blye," my least favorite voice startled me. I instinctively felt that something was off.

"Excuse me?" I managed to hide my internal panic but not my surprise.

"There's a C-130 waiting for you. You've been reassigned."

And just like that, my sense of lightness from before

"Reassigned…?" No. This is a mistake. It—it has to be a mistake.

I glanced at my team leader, but Callen had a rare look of surprise on his face. Then I saw Hetty coming into the bullpen.

"Hetty," I said, relieved that someone who was in my corner was here to back me up. "Assistant Director Granger says I've been… reassigned," I said. The word felt dirty coming out of my mouth.

"That's correct," she said, handing me a shirt. I felt my mouth go dry and my stomach gather into knots. "You'll be needing a clean shirt, Ms. Blye."

I ignored my humiliation at her insinuation in front of Sam, Callen, and Granger.

I can't leave Deeks. Not right now. Not… now. I can't...

"Why is he doing that?"

What does Granger have against me? I thought we put this behind us…

"He's not," Hetty said. "I am."

Hetty? How could she—

"When will I be back?" I asked, looking down to get ahold of my emotions.

They've already caused enough trouble for one day, I berated myself. I let out a self-depreciating sigh. I punched Deeks for much, much less. Oh, god! I realized.

"When the job's done."

In that moment, I hated Hetty. I hated her sage replies, her knowing head tilts, and her mothering ways. But most of all, I hated that I still trusted her.

"Let's move, Agent Blye," Granger said, turning to walk away.

This can't be the end. I'll finish and come back. One job. I can do this. I can—

My phone buzzed, cutting off my thoughts.

I'm almost there. -Deeks

I set my phone down and closed my eyes briefly.

I have to go. Now. If I see Deeks… But I couldn't bear to finish that thought. So, with one last look at Callen and Sam that I hoped conveyed "Take care of my partner" I was following Granger out of OSP.

I came in from the cold and looked around the bunker to see everyone pretending not to stare at me. I lifted my chin and strode forward.

The faster you do this, the faster you get home to Deeks, I reminded myself.

"Can I help you?" a woman in a red shirt and vest asked.

"Yeah, I'm Kensi Blye," I said, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Rachel Harris," she said, looking slightly confused. "Are you looking for someone?"

Now I was confused.

"I was told to report here."

"Uh… okay, by who?" she asked, looking down at the folder in her hand.

"Assistant Director Granger and my operations manager Hetty Lang," I answered. That got her to look up.

"You work for Hetty?" she sounded surprised. I should've known dropping Hetty's name would get results.

"Yeah," I said.

"What's that like?"

At the moment? I thought tersely. Probably not looking for an honest answer.

"It's interesting," I managed to reply steadily.

"I bet," Rachel Harris said, looking down again. But she wasn't ignoring me this time. "So, do you know what your assignment is?"

"No," I replied, short and to the point.

"Well, that makes two of us." She didn't sound too pleased at the concept. Neither was I.

"Anyone here get a heads up on the arrival of Special Agent…" she trailed off and looked to me in question.

"Blye."

"Blye." She nodded at me.

No one else seemed to know anything, either.

"Am I about to be replaced?"Agent Harris had asked me. I felt a twinge of dread at the thought.

But Hetty wouldn't…. I couldn't finish the thought. I realized that I really didn't know what Hetty would and would not do anymore.

"I don't think so," I said immediately. "I have a partner and ongoing cases in Los Angeles." I said the part about the ongoing cases as an after thought, because what really mattered about Los Angeles was my partner.

"Alright, well…" she gestured around the bunker. "Make yourself at home, and I will try and figure out what is going on."

I nodded at her.

"Okay, thanks," I said to her back as she walked away.

Make myself at home. I wanted to laugh. Somewhere in the last four years, home had become blue eyes, blonde hair, a scruffy mutt, and bad Chinese takeout.

Forty-eight hours later, I was in Afghanistan, throwing knives at a target. It hit center of the throat time and time again, and I could just imagine the quip Deeks would come up with about my anger issues. At the thought of my partner, I couldn't help but let my mind go back to the last time I'd stood at a target throwing knives. It was a moment I'd never forget.

"I'm standing on my Frozen Lake," I'd said. But I knew Deeks heard what I really meant. "You're my Frozen Lake. You're what I want most in the world."

He knows, I told myself. He always knows.

I wondered how he was handling everything. His nightmares had been better since I'd been staying with him, but they still happened. The night we'd…

That was the first night he went without them completely, I realized. I went back to the target, retrieved my knives, then paced back out.

Enough, Kensi, I chastised myself. Focus on the mission. Focus on getting the job done. Focus on getting… home.

I refrained from even thinking his name, lest I get distracted. Instead, I thought about the less-than-warm greeting I'd received this morning.

A humvee pulling up behind me pulled me back to my present predicament.

I wasn't really surprised to see Granger get out.

"Hey I didn't know you were here," I said, hoping I'd finally get some answers. Answers mean doing the job, doing the job means finishing the job, and finishing the job means going home.

"I'm not." I nodded at the predictability. This was, after all, a classified mission.

"Does that mean I'm not here, either?" I couldn't help the snark that snuck its way into my tone.

"What do you think?"

I smiled tightly and nodded. "Okay. So maybe you can tell me why I'm not here. Since no one else seems to know."

He smiled at me in a way that made me want to deck him—rank be damned— and gestured to the humvee.

"C'mon."

He opened the back and took out a sniper rifle. I looked down at it and immediately shook my head.

"That isn't mine."

"It is now," he returned. Understanding griped me.

"What's the target?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

"The locals call him 'Spiene Paree' (AN: Spelling, I have no idea here) the white ghost. We don't know who he is, or where he's from, but we think he's a westerner who's working with the Taliban."

"American?" I asked, unable to hide my shock. I'm supposed to assassinate an American citizen?

"Maybe," Granger deflected. "It's possible he's a private contractor that went native. Used to be that we thought it was disinformation or tribal legend, but the insurgents have been employing advanced combat tactics, and someone's been teaching them."

"You want me to find him?" I asked, in a vain hope that I wouldn't have to kill an American Taliban member.

"No," Granger said, looking down and shaking his head at my question. "Task force is gonna find him. You're gonna kill him."

"How is it?" My least favorite voice once again interrupted my thoughts.

"I feel like the new kid," I said, not answering the question I knew he had been asking.

"No, I meant the rifle."

How was my dad friends with this guy? I couldn't help but wonder. I looked over at him with my patented Kensi Blye glare.

"Oh. Rifle's fine. It'll do the job." The job that I wasn't sure I wanted to do.

But if it gets me home… Anything.

"Do the others know about my assignment?" I asked after a brief pause. Even three years ago, I wouldn't have asked.

"Well unless they're complete idiots, they should've gotten a pretty good idea once you started carrying that cannon around." His tone was disapproving, but I couldn't care less.

"Well I feel like they resent me being here."

"Why would they?" he asked. "And even if they do, so what?"

"Well some of us don't relish being disliked." He just tilted his head, almost amused, and it only served to feed my anger.

"Let's focus on the mission, Miss Congeniality." He turned and walked away. It was only then that I noticed the other agents in the bunker looking at me curiously. I just ignored them and went back to my thoughts, cleaning the rifle.

I'd finally called it a night. I'd need my sleep if I was going to get this mission over with.

I closed my eyes, but my bunk felt incredibly empty without my partner beside me. I couldn't bring myself to fall asleep. With a sigh, I reached up and turned the light back on. I reached over and grabbed my phone.

Scrolling through, I spent the next half hour looking at all the memories.

When I hit the pictures I had from Deeks's trip to Jordan, I smiled. I'd give anything to have him next to me right now, talking my ear off about the pictures. I'd sit and listen to him babble on for hours if I could just be in his arms. After a month of laying beside him every night to sleep, and one night of something more, I felt the emptiness of my bunk acutely.

Finally, I landed on a picture of the whole team after an impromptu two-on-two match. I remembered the day with a fond smile. All four of us were in the picture, but Deeks and I were in the middle.

I couldn't help it. I zoomed in on the two of us, bringing his smiling, ocean-blue eyes closer to me. He was grinning, his hair was tousled, and his arm was slung casually around my shoulder. I fit in there perfectly.

I stared at it for a moment before powering down my phone to conserve battery. I looked at my watch.

Morning will come sooner than you think, I reminded myself. But when I turned off the light, my mind went back the memory of a perfect life.

"You know, I actually thought I'd hate it here. A family… kids running around… happily-married-couple thing. It's actually kinda comforting. And it is nice to have someone to say 'goodnight' to at the end of the day."

The thought of his eyes as he'd gazed back at me in that moment brought a small smile to my lips.

"Good night, Deeks."

I know you had to wait awhile, but this is in canon, so ENJOY! (And leave a lovely review?)