December 7, 2012

"Did you see me? Did you see me, Daddy?"

Donald Blye laughs as Kensi throws herself into his arms. She's dressed in white, a pipe cleaner halo stuck through her ponytail. He thinks, rather subjectively, she made the best angel on that stage.

"I did," he tells her. "You were awesome."

Kensi giggles as she wraps her arms tighter around her father, hugging him tight. "Mrs. Tomlinson says I was the best."

He's biased. He knows he's biased. This is his little girl, and yeah, he's raised her kind of like a boy, but then there are moments like this, where she's dressed as an angel and looks every inch a happy little girl. Who could track a bear in the woods, but that's just survival skills.

"The very best," he agrees anyway, knowing that's his role here. He feels guilty sometimes, because a girl like he's so lucky to have should have everything she could want. She should have a nuclear family and the brightest Christmas. Siblings and puppies and parents that are around all the time. She's too mature too, understanding even amidst disappointment when he has to miss something.

"You made a promise, Daddy," she'd told him once, only a handful of years ago. "You have to keep your promise."

Ever since, he's made it a personal mission to see absolutely everything he can. He makes every moment as special as possible, making sure that running back to him from Nevada was the right decision. He doesn't want her regretting choosing him, even if it breaks his heart that she was in a position to make that choice in the first place.

He's brought back when Kensi tugs on his ears. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"Which one was your favourite?" she asks patiently.

He pretends to think about it, but his answer is immediate. "O Holy Night."

Kensi giggles and he absorbs the sound, clinging to it. "You always say that!"

"It's my favourite!" He puts her down then, because she's still his little girl but she's getting older and she's getting heavier. "O holy night, the stars are brightly shining-"

His little girl giggles. He's deliberately singing poorly to make her laugh. He does it often and he's glad that it makes her smile. He takes her hand, tugging her along. He nods to a few parents, parents that have watched Kensi on playdates or sleepovers when work gets difficult. Kensi's skipping beside him, her ponytail bobbing away as she hums. She's happy. It makes him happy.

She turns sparkling brown eyes up to his. "Daddy, can we get ice cream?"

He laughs and hoists her onto his shoulders. Kensi squeals and he feels his heart warm. "Of course we can, Baby Girl."


The only clue to the next day's 'gift' is the date, a time and coordinates.

It turns out to be an elementary school. Little kids, singing their hearts out. Kensi tries not to think about how Hetty managed to find it, nor how she got tickets for all of them. It's a beautiful concert, even if these aren't the operatic singers of high paying concert halls. She's blown away by it and wondering if there's anything in the world more adorable.

She sits through Deck the Halls, and Joy to the World. She sings softly along with Jingle Bells and The First Noel. She thinks about homicide during Rudolph, Frosty and The Twelve Days of Christmas. She's genuinely enjoying herself.

Right up until a small brunette girl steps forward. She can't be more than ten, Kensi thinks. The minute the first chords of O Holy Night ring out, she knows she's done for. She can't even make it through the first verse before she's pushing by Deeks, slipping around Callen's knees and heading for the back of the auditorium.

She has to walk down the tiny halls to get away from the music. Her heart is breaking in her chest, making it hard to even breathe. She can feel the tears crawling up her throat, can feel her eyes stinging and her nose clogging. Eventually, she slides to the floor beside a display case of childish art and drops her head to her knees.

She tries to just breathe through it. She's an ugly crier and she already knows her face is going to be redder than Rudolph's nose when she has to return to her seat. She can't stop it though. It all hits her hard and fast. Her breath goes ragged and she has to actually close her eyes against it all. Trying to force herself to breathe slowly isn't working.

She's just on the verge of letting go when there's a hand against her back. She breathes in and out again, feeling the wave dull. The hand doesn't move, just rests there, and it surprises her when it becomes easier to breathe. Her heart is still speeding, but for a different reason. She knows whose hand it is. Sam wouldn't risk coming, neither would Eric or Nell. Hetty would have already shared some sort of similar story and Deeks probably would have ignored all of her signs for space and wrapped his arms about her.

When she feels more stable, she raises her head to find Callen watching her. It's comforting to see no sympathy or compassion in his gaze. He's just watching her with clear blue eyes. It centers her, even if she's the type who does appreciate understanding emotions.

"Your dad?" he asks quietly.

She swallows. Having to deal with her father's case, everything with Granger and the sniper, is a blessing and a curse. She sighs. "It was his favourite."

His hand slips over her shoulder blade, down her arm. Her skin tingles and she draws on wellsprings of self-control to stop the shiver that wants to slide down her spine. His hand falls away and they're left sitting side-by-side in a random Los Angeles elementary school.

"I used to be in Christmas pageants," she beings, staring straight ahead. She thinks she can imagine the little coats and backpacks hanging on the hooks across from them. "When I was that young. My dad never missed a single one." She laughs a little. "He used to sing that song until I begged him to stop. We used to go out for ice cream afterwards."

He doesn't apologize or offer the usual condolences. She's pretty sure she doesn't want them from him anyway. It doesn't really matter to her regardless. She finds herself leaning her head back now, staring at the ceiling. They sit in silence and it surprises her how much it helps her get herself under control again. Silence isn't usually her preferred method of dealing with this kind of overwhelming emotion, but sitting here with him, she can feel her heart slowing, her breath calming, the wave passing.

Eventually, when her breathing has calmed entirely and she feels almost entirely human, he pushes himself up and offers a hand. She wonders if she's just imagining the eagerness in the lines on his face. It's like he can't smooth it out, even though the rest of his face holds no emotion. She swallows, but places her hand nervously in his own. He tugs her up and she expects him to let go of her hand the minute she's standing. Instead, he turns and starts walking back to the auditorium.

She doesn't ask as he pulls her back down the hall, nor as they slip into the back. She expects him to lead the way to their seats, but he stays standing at the back and keeps his hand in hers. It's a bold move for either of them, but she appreciates the contact. Still, curiosity gets the better of her.

"Callen," she whispers, but he just turns his head and looks at her and her mouth snaps shut.

He steps closer, tugging her slightly ahead of him so he can lean into her ear. "Let's make good memories, Kens."

Her breath catches, but she doesn't move. She can feel his heat against her back and while it feels weird to her, no one else seems to pay them any mind. It takes her a while to allow herself to get lost in the music and she doesn't even feel Callen's hand come up to her hip, fingers resting gently over her shirt. Her body relaxes into the touch without acknowledgement from the rest of her. It feels good. It feels normal.

And when she's tucked up in bed a few hours later she thinks that despite her borderline tears and moments of embarrassment, it's a good memory for her.

She just hopes it's a good memory for Callen too.


Really quick thing that I thought was important. I will be finishing this regardless of the fact that I'd have to be super human and pull like 3 all-nighters (which I never even did for school) to make my self-imposed deadline. This is a labour of love for me and I'm sure I speak for anyone who has tackled Kensi and Callen when I say they're impossible to write. Well, not impossible but you know what I mean.

BUT I will finish this.

In the meantime, I promise I'm working as fast as my muse and my holiday plans will let me. If I get my way, I'll have one for the next three days at least. That's my hope. But I have to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special on the 25th and I have 2 Christmases to celebrate that day.

Does anyone else find that if there's any time of year that makes a person insane it's this one?