Author's Note: Once again, much thanks for all of the positive comments. This one is going to be a long one so belt in and be patient with me as we go along. Starting this chapter, it's going to steadily pick up in intensity. Please be forewarned.

I want to make a quick comment about the theme of this story. This piece is more about the K/D partnership and their friendship and what they are willing to do for each other. It's also about the nature of a team and what a team will do for their mates. So, even if you're not a Kensi/Deeks fan, I hope there is still much to enjoy here.

Last thing, this story takes place after the events of 2x10 - Deliverance. It's not a direct follow-up to that, but it does mention some of what happened in the ep.

J, you're really up, my friend.

It's late at night (at least she thinks it must be because it's so terribly dark.) She's not sure why, but she's walking down an impossibly long hallway.

She has a feeling that she knows where she is – it's familiar – but it seems strange, somehow distorted. Her footsteps sound large, insanely magnified.

She stops, looks down at her feet and sees that they are bare, but when she starts moving again, the loud echoing footsteps (the kind that can only be created by heavy boots) return.

"Kensi," she hears a man whisper.

She turns. It takes her a moment, but she recognizes the voice.

"Deeks?"

"In here!" he practically screams.

She looks around and sees a closed door.

She stares at it for a moment, quite sure that it wasn't there mere seconds earlier. Her feet suddenly feel heavy, like something is keeping her from moving. When she looks down at them, she notices that there are cuts on them, the kind you get from being dragged across a hard surface.

"Kensi," her partner calls out to her. "Please."

There's urgency in his tone and maybe fear. It's enough to force her forward.

She puts her hand on the doorknob and turns it. The door creaks and slides open, presenting her with nothing more than a thin slice of bright white light.

"Deeks," she whispers.

"Hurry," he says and his voice sounds very odd to her, hoarse and pained.

"Hold on," she urges.

She shoves the door inwards and as she does, it's almost like the bright white light overtakes her. She puts her hands up as if to shield her eyes.

And then it feels like something inside of her explodes, causing every nerve to come cry out in agony.

She hears a horrible scream.

It occurs to her that she has no idea whether it belongs to her or him.

She slides in and out of restless sleep for much of the night, her dreams strange and confusing. She tries to clutch at the images she sees, tries to figure out what she's seeing and what they might mean, but every time she steps through the door and into the bright white light, the screaming starts anew.

It occurs to her halfway through the night that there are tears on her cheeks and she doesn't know if it it's the pain, the fear or the loss that is causing them.

She hears a nurse whispering nonsense words to her, hears the doctor telling her that she's doing good and to just to continue being strong. He tells her that there are people who care about her and to concentrate on that.

She wants to laugh, but finds none of this very funny at all.

She hurts. Every bone, every muscle.

Normally, the doctors would have drugged her up with as many pain killers as they could – her injuries certainly justify it. However, the heroin still coursing through her system makes giving her anything for the pain an unacceptable risk.

And so she tries to gut it through.

There are moments that are unbearable and there are some when she's sure that her system is simply so overwhelmed by the pain that it's refusing to register anything at all. Those are the times when she feels numb and almost out of body.

Those are the times when she's sure that she's losing her mind. Everything around her spins and she struggles to figure out such simple things as what her name is. So many people that she has been and for moments during the night, she's certain that she's all of them.

She's certain that she's having a complete mental breakdown.

And so when sleep finally creeps towards her like smoke in the air and she finds herself reaching out for it almost greedily.

But every single time she closes her eyes, pressing them tightly together, trying to seal them against the sharp pain radiating through her skull, she sees a series of horrific images flash through her mind.

No, not images…memories.

Memories of hell.

Hetty sleeps in her chair, sitting straight up. It's a skill she'd learned many years before. She thinks maybe in North Korea, but it's possible she picked it up in Iran. Or maybe some other hellhole somewhere on the other side of the world.

When she comes to, it's a few minutes before nine in the morning and she knows that it won't be long before the others are in.

Frankly, she's a bit surprised that they're not here already.

She checks her cell phone and sees that there are six messages waiting from Director Vance. She needn't bother listening to any of them; she knows what he wants – answers.

Don't they all.

She makes herself a cup of lemon tea and then pulls out a journal and puts it on the desk in front of her. She touches her pointer finger over the edge of it, the tip tracing over the simple glue binding.

She thinks of another book – a not quite little black one.

That one had nearly gotten Kensi and Deeks killed as well.

That one (disguised as the Red Badge of Courage) is hidden away in her safe deposit box. It can't hurt anyone else (at least for now anyway).

But this little book now sitting on her desk – it has many more secrets and much more pain yet to offer.

This little book can explain why one of her agents is fighting for her life in a hospital bed and the other is missing in action.

She opens the journal and looks down at the small, but neat print – block letters full of perfectly straight angles – belonging to Detective Deeks.

She opens a second journal and observes the messier handwriting of Agent Blye. Some of her letters loop and slide together – it's mostly readable, but a few words take a moment or two to figure out and decipher.

She already knows what Callen will ask when she proposes continuing to go through the journals.

"You've already read these, why do we have to do it again?"

Her answer is simple: because every detail is a piece of the puzzle.

In her experience, all undercover ops are something of a puzzle and all puzzles offer up a thousand small pieces that come together to create the whole.

Some are simple, some are complex.

She's sure that this one is the latter.

Which means that the more eyes she can get on the words of Detective Deeks and Agent Blye, the better.

She opens the first journal that Deeks had turned in – the beginning page has notes about the night before the op. Notes about how he and Kensi had worked out their characters together.

"Wait, why are we here?" Deeks asks as they pull up in front of Kensi's apartment building. He had been expecting her to take him back to his own place on the opposite side of town.

"I figured we should get on the same page," she replies simply. She parks the car in the underground garage.

"Usually works best," he confirms.

"Right," she answers coolly and then gets out of the car. "Come on."

He cocks his head to the side, slightly concerned. He's been around this woman enough to know when she's bothered by something.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Sure," she says, leading him towards an upstairs unit at the back of the building. She can probably afford something better – maybe even a house – but work doesn't give her a lot of time to look around and to be honest, there's something that terrifies her about setting down somewhat permanent roots.

So for now, the apartment building it is.

She opens the door and then steps aside to allow him entry.

Immediately, and probably unwisely, he laughs.

"Have something you want to say?" she growls.

"No! It's just…you're a…"

"Careful," she warns, eyes narrowed.

"Right." Then, because it's simply not his style to not annoy her when he has the opportunity, he finishes with, "You're a bit of a packrat aren't you?"

"Deeks."

"You know, when you say my name like that, it makes me think you hate me."

"I do."

"I'm hurt."

"Not yet."

"You keep threatening that. I would have thought that after I saved you from being blown to pieces…"

"That's low, Deeks, even for you."

He opens his mouth and then laughs. "You're right. I should save that for later – when I can get the most bang for my buck. So to speak anyway."

"Want a beer?" she asks him tightly, clearly wanting to change the subject.

He's not surprised. He imagines that she probably dreams about that room and those damn lasers. He knows that he does. He's nearly died a thousand times he figures, but there were something intimate about how close they both were to meeting the Grim Reaper.

And he figures that she probably knows that the only reason he was that close at all was because he came to save her. Just as he knows that the only reason she was that close was because he let her be taken by the Russians.

Kind of works both ways this crazy partnership thing.

"Sure," he says.

He wishes sometimes that he could explain himself to her. She probably thinks he's making light of what had happened with the Russians. Far from it; it's just that he deals with almost everything with jokes and sarcasm. It's just his way.

"Okay," she responds and then heads into the kitchen. While she's gone, he looks around the living room. It's messy, but comfortable. His eyes light on a picture of a man wearing Marine Corps dress blues and a teenage girl.

"Here," she says suddenly, sliding in front of him, holding two already opened bottles of beer in her hands. He wonders if she's intentionally blocking him from looking at the picture.

"You know," he tells her as he takes one of the bottles from her, "We've talked a lot about trust, and I kind of thought with everything that's happened, we finally had it."

She stares at him for a moment, a bit surprised that he's brought this subject back up. Or maybe she's surprised that he's actually being fairly serious.

"We do," she insists.

"Then what's going on? What's bothering you?" He lowers his voice just a bit, allows for the slightest hint of pleading. He needs her to understand that he's here for her and that he probably understands what she's going through.

She takes a thoughtful swig from her beer and for a moment, says nothing. Then, quietly, "What if he's right?"

"Callen, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you think he is?"

"I didn't say I did."

"Kensi..."

"It's just…when we do short covers, I'm good at them. Sometimes, I'm great, but I don't always…I hate…I hate lying."

"Kind of an odd job profession to have chosen considering."

"But it's not that. I don't mind lying to scum bags, but problem is, they're not the only ones we deal with. I can deal with pretending I'm someone different for a guy like Kassel, but what about the kids I'll be going to class with? What about the ones who might get pulled into the middle of this just because I'm trying to pretend that I'm just a regular college girl who wants to be friends?"

"Collateral damage," he tells her and tries to make it clear his tone that he's not any happier about it than she is.

"Yeah," she sighs. "That's the part I hate."

He steps forward and for a moment, considers reaching out and touching her, but then pulls up short.

All bantering and teasing aside, their relationship is in a good place right now, but it seems to him that considering the roles that they're going to have to play going forward, there's going to be more than enough line crossing ahead for both of them and he wants to give her the space she needs for now.

So instead, from a few feet away, "If you tell anyone that I said this, I'll deny it, but you are one of the best that I have ever worked with. You're ready for this. We both are. We're going to go in, play our roles and put Kassel behind bars."

"Just that easy, huh?" she asks and he sees a hint of a smile lifting up the corners of her lips.

"Easy peasy."

She laughs. "Thanks," she says. And then, meeting his deep blue eyes with her own dark mismatched ones, she adds, "For everything."

He knows that she's talking about what happened with the bomb.

Now he's the one wanting to change the subject because no matter how he pretends otherwise, he's still not resolved about his role in the drama that unfolded with the Russians and all of the other foreign operatives.

Callen may have insisted that as the team leader, he was the one at fault, but Deeks isn't quite sure that he buys that.

And in that moment, standing across from Kensi in her messy Living Room, he makes himself a very dangerous promise (the kind he should know better than to make) and insists (even in his own head) that he won't let her partner come to any harm during this case.

"So," he says, taking a swig from his own beer. "Kara and James, are they the kind who can't keep their hands off each other?" And now he's grinning at her, intentionally hiding his own fears (and his promise to himself) away from her.

He knows that she sees right through him.

But whatever is still going on in her own mind – whatever fears and doubts she's still harboring about her ability to do this job – it's enough to keep her from pushing at him. So, instead, she laughs, "No," she tells him.

"Oh come on," he insists. "I think they should be cuddlers."

She groans, but even in that, he can see that she's amused.

He figures, that's a good place for them to start this op.

"Morning," Hetty hears from somewhere above her. The voice (likely Callen's) pulls her out of her thoughts about Kensi's pre-op concerns (she continues to steadfastly believe that Kensi had, in fact, been ready. And she still maintains that had her youngest agent not been ready, well then she never would have been sent in in the first place).

She looks up slowly. "Mr. Callen, Mr. Hanna."

They enter together, both looking exhausted. Callen is wearing a wrinkled gray workout sweatshirt; Sam is in a freshly laundered long sleeved red shirt.

"Did you sleep?" she asks them.

"Sure," Sam replies.

"Like a baby," Callen answers.

"Of course," she nods, not buying it for a moment. "Is Mr. Beale behind you?"

"Yes," Eric says as he comes in, yawning.

"Good. Then let's begin." She holds up two journals – one belonging to Deeks and the other Kensi. She doesn't miss the nervous shifting the men do, knows that they're all wondering why they're wasting time.

She could remind them that they still have no idea where to start looking for Detective Deeks, but knows her words will be wasted on them.

So instead, for now, she focuses them on gathering together pieces of the puzzle. Starting with day one of the op.

Hetty turns to Eric. "Put Day 1 on the screen, Eric."

Eric clicks two buttons on his data pad and the scanned in journals come up on the LCD screen in front of the quartet.

Deeks gets to their new apartment first and can't help, but laugh. It's small, befitting two young adults without a lot of their own money. Per the profile, Kara has some of her inheritance still left, but it's not enough to continue allowing for them both to not only go to school, but to also live in style.

Walking around the apartment – which is only about five miles away from the UCLA campus – he takes in the touches of uniqueness that the tiny abode offers – a fair sized kitchen, a slightly lowered living room and a long almost dramatic hallway leading back to two entirely too small bedrooms.

"It looked better in the pictures," Kensi says as she enters, carrying a small box in her arms. She's smiling brightly at him and for a moment, it throws him. Kensi isn't the kind to sulk or wear a sour expression, but nor does she usually allow for such open displays of happiness.

Then again, he reminds himself, right now, she isn't Kensi Blye. Right now, this is Kara Barstow and she's an entirely different girl.

"It's fine," he shrugs back, completely non-committal. James isn't the kind of guy to care much what his home looks like. Long as he has a safe place to close his eyes at night, he's pretty much good to go.

"Sure," she says, still brightly. "A couple pictures, some paint and I think we can give it some flair and fun." He sees her lift her hand to brush her hair back and his eyes catch on the engagement ring that she's wearing. While not big or overly expensive, it is a bit dramatic, certainly not the kind that Kensi would wear.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers hearing that his partner had been engaged at a time. Or maybe had been considering it. Something like that.

"Whatever you say, babe. Far as I'm concerned, we only need four walls and a bed," he tells her, just a touch of impishness to his tone.

Before she can respond, he steps towards her and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. For just the briefest of moments, he feels her stiffen up. He covers for her by dipping his head into her neck and nuzzling, his thick facial hair scratching against her soft skin.

He almost wants to laugh when his typically unflappable partner can't even manage to get more than a grunt out.

Finally, recovering, a slight tremble in her voice, she whispers, "Later, honey."

"Promise?"

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry," a voice says from behind them. Deeks doesn't miss the flash of relief that shoots across Kensi's face.

They both turn to see a young college kid with sandy blonde hair watching them. Truth be told, Deeks had seen the boy standing outside of another door just across the courtyard when Kensi had come into the apartment.

Kensi gives him a look, telling him that now she understands why he'd put on the sudden display of affection – it hadn't been just about taking advantage of a weird situation and trying to throw her a bit of kilter.

Well, maybe it had been just a little bit about that.

After all, they're on the clock of the op now, but there aren't really any important eyes on them just yet.

"I don't mean to interrupt," the kid continues. "You guys just moving in today?"

"Yep," Kensi answers cheerfully, having completely recovered her senses and slipped fully into her role. "I'm Kara and that's James."

"Tony," the boy says. "Nice to meet you."

They shake hands (Deeks notices that Kensi makes sure to let Tony see her engagement ring and he has to admit, he's a bit impressed – Kara is exactly the kind of girl who wants everyone to know that she's getting married).

Tony points back towards his apartment.

"Me and my roomie got the place right over there. Been here for about two years. This complex is pretty quiet for the most part, but it can get wild during the weekends every now and again."

"Sounds like fun," Deeks grins.

"Party at your place?" Kensi asks.

He laughs. "Not always. Mostly it's just a matter of who decides to throw it that night. Maybe I'll see you guys one of these times, huh?"

"Count on it," Deeks replies.

"Cool. Catch ya later." And with that, he turns and heads back to his place. They watch him until he's back inside, the door closing behind him.

"Good opportunity for James to do some dealing," Deeks says low and under his breath. It's only because Kensi is standing so close to him that she hears him.

She nods her agreement. Then, "So, looks like we have some unpacking to do."

"And here I was thinking naptime," Deeks yawns.

"Not if you want that later we were talking about before," she shoots back suggestively. Then, in response to the amusement and surprise she sees on his face, she winks at him and heads back towards the parking lot, where her Honda is next to the moving van. She opens her car up and lifts out a large box (she hasn't a clue what it's inside – the operations guys prepped these).

"Hey, you want me to get that for you, babe?" Deeks asks, coming around behind her. He lowers his head and hovers his mouth just over her shoulder.

"Yes," she hisses. "That'd be nice."

"Anything for you, my sweet," he grins and then takes the box from her.

She grabs another box and follows him back in, fighting hard to curb the urge to give him a quick hard kick to the shin.

They operate like this for the next hour, unpacking her car and the moving van, taking time to openly flirt and show off affection for each other. They're careful to try to make it look as organic as possible. After all, despite Kensi's initial insistence that James and Kara are not cuddlers, they had both agreed that they would be the type of couple that like to touch each other a lot, but they wouldn't be into massive displays of public affection such as kissing – unless Kara is trying to show him off – which she is prone to do on occasion.

Once everything is unpacked and the door is closed and locked tight behind them, Deeks turns to his partner. "Once we get on Kassel's radar, it won't be safe to talk in here, but for right now, we're okay. After he checks me out, he'll probably bug this place and we won't be able disable them with letting them know that we're cops."

"Which means that anytime we're in the apartment, we'll have to be completely James and Kara," Kensi finishes.

"Right."

She nods her understanding. They had spoken of this previously, but it's a good reminder of timelines and expectations.

"What are you doing?" he asks, noticing that her dark eyes are flickering around the apartment."

"I'm doing a threat assessment," she tells him. She points to the door. "Cheap wood, I could kick through without much effort. And the lock is pretty weak, too – five – hell, three - seconds and I'm in."

"Yes," Deeks agrees. "But other people aren't like you and it would look kind of odd if we replaced our front door and put in five bolt locks."

"True," she chuckles, still looking around.

This place isn't much for protection, but it's completely believable for their covers and that is, of course, the most important part.

"So, now comes the uncomfortable part," Deeks tells her, drawing her attention back to him.

She cocks her head to the side.

"Sleeping arrangements."

"Oh."

It occurs to her that that was one of the things that they hadn't discussed on the previous evening.

He grins.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She almost scolds him with a "Deeks" but stops short; she needs to get out of the habit of calling him by his actual name. She needs to start calling him James as much as possible – it'll make it much easier to not screw up if she gets distracted or flustered by whatever the case might throw at them.

Instead, she purses her lips and tries to throw him her most disapproving glare.

He laughs in response. It's enough to make her want to punch him again.

She steps towards him. "Honey…"

"Anyone ever tell you that you make the word 'honey' sound like a threat?"

"Mm. Imagine that. Can we focus?"

"Of course."

"So?"

"Well, it's just, we have two rooms right now and I can certainly sleep in one tonight and you the other, but we're just delaying the inevitable."

"Oh, this is so weird," she sighs.

"It gets easier," he assures her and there's some gentleness and compassion in his tone. He can still recall his first deep cover – it had been all kinds of scary and strange and uncomfortable.

After awhile, it had gotten easier – it really had.

Still, this was a different kind of strange and uncomfortable.

He had never gone undercover with someone like Kensi before.

Someone who was more than just a working partner, but also something of a friend.

Jess Trainer had been his handler – they had worked together on the case involving the traffickers, but not like this.

And that hadn't exactly ended well anyway.

"So what's the best way?" she asks him, deferring to his experience.

"Well, the best way is for us to play the part completely. From day one."

"Okay," she nods. She'd considered asking him what he meant by that, but then decided that she doesn't really want the answer just yet. "I guess we're sharing."

"I promise, I'll be a gentleman," he assures her.

"I know you will," she answers and for once, she's being dead serious, trying to let him know that she believes him. And she does.

By the time midnight comes around, both of them are exhausted and yet neither has made any move towards the bedroom.

They've managed to unpack most of the boxes to find an assortment of mismatched dishes as well as clothing (Kensi is nearly horrified to realize that according to the guys in Operations, Kara has a liking for pink) and the other kinds of stuff that a couple would likely bring from Arizona.

The bedroom is the room at the far end of the hallway – the other room is set up as something of a messy office – a shoddy desk off to the side.

In the front room, they have an old couch that looks like it was picked up in a yard sale. It's colorful and dramatic, though; the kind of thing that a woman like Kara would gravitate towards.

Now that everything is unpacked, they're both sitting on the couch, cartons of mostly empty Chinese in front of them. The TV is on, showing some terrible horror movie from the early eighties.

At just before one in the morning, Deeks finally stands up and yawns. "You about ready to turn in?"

" Sure. I'll be back in a few minutes," she says. "I want to clean up and lock up."

"You're going to clean up?"

"Keep it up," she tells him. "Don't think you're safe just because I have to pretend to like you."

"Wouldn't dream it," he assures her. "Goodnight, my sweet."

"You're not going to stop calling me that, are you?"

"Probably not."

"Uh huh. Go to bed."

He grins at her again and then turns and heads towards the back. After a minute, she hears the shower go on.

She dumps the empty cartons of Chinese food into the trash and then does another once over of the apartment, walking over to the windows and placing her hands against them. Though the glass is weak, the seal is solid – no one is coming in unless they do it by violent force.

It hits her once again that she's missing her trusty Sig.

Right now, that gun is sitting in her locker back at the Mission.

She thinks about the knife that Hetty gave her. It's in her purse right now.

She's suddenly hit by the terrible feeling that the knife is going to get use before this case is over.

It's not just a feeling – it's a certainty.

Deeks is already in the bed when she gets back to the room at the far end of the long hallway. He's wearing loose-fitting red and black flannel pants and a white tee-shirt. "Saved you some hot water," he tells her.

She almost replies that she prefers to shower in the morning, but somehow it seems wrong to share a bed with this man for the first time (no matter the reason) still a bit sweaty from having spent much of the day moving boxes.

"Thanks," she replies, opening the closet and pulling out her sleeping clothes.

"You like the left or right side?" he asks.

"Hm?"

"Of the bed."

She turns to face him. "Oh, uh…"

"No, don't tell me. You sleep in the middle, right? All spread out."

She blushes just a bit and then mutters, "Take whatever side you want."

She's pretty sure she can hear him laughing even through the closed bathroom door. She turns on the shower to drown him out.

Her shower takes much longer than his did, partially because she's hoping that he'll fall asleep while she's in the bathroom.

This is a bit strange for her – she's a woman who typically very at ease with her sexuality. No, she's never worked deep cover before but she's worked enough short covers to have been put in situations that required her to pretend to be in some way or another intimate with either a partner or in some cases, a suspect.

Working off someone like Callen is easy for the most part.

Playing off a suspect is harder, but sometimes easier to rationalize out in her mind. Then, it's completely acting. It's a strange thing at times, though – she's had to kiss men that she plans to be putting behind bars by the end of the night.

Still, no matter what those situations have been, they've always been short-term in nature. Some casual flirting, a quick seduction.

This is something completely different and it's taking some time to get it all worked out and put together in her mind.

She once again thinks about Callen telling her that she'd have to be willing to do anything and everything to keep cover – no matter what it be.

She reminds herself that it's the job.

She reminds herself that she told everyone that she could handle this.

She remembers Deeks telling her that he believes she can.

She's never needed anyone to give her validation, but it's nice to have just the same – especially from her partner.

Wearing pajama bottoms and a white rib-tank, her hair still wet, she exits the bathroom and is relieved to discover that Deeks has indeed, fallen asleep.

She can't quite help herself from smiling.

He's lying slightly on his side, facing away from the middle of the bed, his shaggy mane (which is still a bit damp itself) going every which way. He's stretched out, his feet protruding from beneath the disturbingly colorful blankets.

She walks around to the right side of the bed and crawls in. She notices that he's placed a pillow between them. It's a nice if completely unnecessary gesture. Just the same, she appreciates it.

She pulls the blankets over her and then makes sure that he's still covered up.

She doesn't sleep that night.

She doesn't realize that he doesn't either – he just pretends better.

Around eleven in the morning, the Doctor tells her that they're going to take her down to have an MRI done on her head. She can tell by the seriousness of his tone that he's concerned that she might have some degree of brain damage.

If she could get her eyes – or her brain – to focus for longer than five minutes at a time, she might consider arguing with him.

She feels the gurney she's on being rolled down the hallway. Thankful that the pillow her head is rested again is quite soft, her eyes are on the ceiling. When they enter a brightly lit corridor, she averts her eyes.

And that's when she sees the man leaning bent over the water fountain. He meets her eyes and she's sure for a moment that she recognizes him. When she looks again, however, he's gone.

Or maybe he was never there to begin with. She simply can't be sure.

When the orderlies lift her up onto the cold slab and then slide it in so that she is almost completely inside the tube, she feels her heart began to pound.

The Doctor pleads with her to calm down, but certainly, everything is swirling again and she falls like she's falling into nothing, but darkness.

When she wakes up an hour later, she realizes (much to her embarrassment) she'd passed out inside the machine.

"Hey," the nurse says as she comes into the room.

"What happened?"

"You had a bit of a panic attack," the nurse replies softly. "Completely understandable after all you've been through."

If Kensi were any more in her right mind, she'd be annoyed by the sugary sweet voice the nurse is using. As is, it's hard to focus or care much about the nurse.

"When can I go home?" she asks, wincing as a fresh wave of agony crashes through her. She figures that she could be in this much pain back in the comfort and safety of her own apartment.

The nurse laughs. Then, realizing that Kensi is dead serious, she says, "Not until you're a lot better, honey."

And suddenly, she caught in another memory. It hits her like a runaway train, causing the room she's in to fade away completely.

"Honey, I'm home," she hears him call out from the Living Room. Recognizing his voice, she swallows back on the flare of panic that had shot through her when she'd heard the front door open.

She's leaning against the dresser, palms flat against the wood, looking up into the mirror. Her hair is wet and her skin rubbed clean.

She hears his footsteps down the hallway and then his reflection in the mirror as he enters the room. He looks tired and hassled.

"Hey," he says, stepping towards her. When she doesn't respond, he puts a hand on both of her shoulders.

The moment, he does, she shrugs them away and turns to face him. He's visibly started to see tears on her cheeks.

She sees him open his mouth and the beginning of her real name start on his lips. It takes a Herculean effort for him to remember that the apartment is bugged and thus stop himself from ruining their cover.

Instead, he whispers, "What's wrong?"

Looking up at him with anger and defiance burning in her dark eyes, she replies, "I did what I had to."

Kensi blinks and suddenly, she's back in the hospital room, laid out on the bed, the nurse staring at her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah…I…I'm fine."

"Who's Deeks?" the Nurse asks her.

"What?"

"You said his name. It is a him, yes?"

"Yes," she replies. And then says no more, instead letting her eyes go back to the ceiling. The nurse gets the hint and exits the room,

Kensi thinks about whatever the flash she just saw was. Surely a memory. She has no idea what it means. Her mind is too foggy and confused; she's struggling to remember where she was ten minutes ago much less five days ago.

And yet she knows that whatever that moment was, it was when everything had spun completely out of control.

It was when the whole op had gone straight to hell.

TBC…