A/N: Before you begin to read, I'm gonna argue that I'm probably still under the influence of alcohol. Yes, this is a pre-"it was too OOC" discovery, so it's Kensi overthinking it. I am too lazy to delete it and start over, but since it's the first Kensi POV in this story, let it be. Yeah, it's so out of character you probably won't recognize Kensi. Ignore the first two sentences, or don't read it all all. It can, vaguely, be considered a filler.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters and contents.
Part 7: Overanalyze
She sighs in relief when she hears Deeks leaving, but is also saddened. Her heart sped up when he knocked on the door, even if she was just sitting in the wheelchair, staring at her mirror image. Normally, she'd be exercising by now, then showering, but after her little, embarrassing stunt on the bed, she finds it too humiliating to try and shower, not trusting her own legs. Silent tears slide down her cheeks and she hates herself for crying. She hates herself for being in this wheelchair, but she is also slowly accepting that she is helpless without it. And she hates the fact that Deeks has to see her like this. So far, he hasn't made hurtful jokes, but knowing him, he has probably already let it slip that she's crippled.
Yes, she knows that it is not temporary, but it doesn't make it better. Things she has always considered effortless are now something she is not able to do herself. Not that she doesn't appreciate Deeks being here. After all, he knows her ego. How easily it bruises. He knows her and won't deliberately, even by mistake, make her feel handicapped.
Kensi only remembers flashes of the accident itself. It is returning, and Dr. Cho told her that due to the gash on her forehead, she might feel dizzy. She hasn't even considered it until now. Between fighting the chair and being miserable about it, Deeks has been the one managing the medication. And she is secretly okay with it, though she knows that as soon as she is able to return to her routines, she wants to be alone. She doesn't want to burden Deeks, though he definitely owes her. And who's she kidding? She has herself stayed near his hospital bed, watching over him when he was shot. This shouldn't be different. But it is, because it's her. Getting hurt in a car accident is sloppy. Something she'd expect of somebody less skilled. But it's her fault, and it's harder to accept than the disability itself.
While she is content that it is Deeks who is playing nurse, she knows that it will be painfully embarrassing if she cannot shower on her own. She is certain that Deeks is unfit for the job, even though she might trust him now where she is hurt. Falling asleep on the couch next to him was a mistake; it bared her, stripped her of the barriers. She blames the meds.
Slowly, Kensi begins to wash her face. She sends the shower-head a longing glance, but decides against it. She won't give Deeks that satisfaction. And she certainly won't acknowledge that she can't even shower on her own. Leave it to the unknowing. The water cleanses her of the tears and badly applied makeup. She is hit by sudden vanity, which is obscure when she hasn't even showered. Her camisole is worn skewed by sleep, and she difficultly maneuvers the wheelchair back to her bedroom to her dresser. Fetching bra, a wrap blouse and yoga pants from the high drawers, she is in a slight pain as she returns to the bathroom. She is thankful that her arms are uninjured and fit. And no, it is not paranoia that has her picking up the gun with her clothes, but simple sense of survival.
The jeans she wore when she was brought to the hospital are ruined. Unfortunate, because they were one of her favorite pairs. She manages to wash herself with water from the sink, splashing unnecessary water on the floor. Luckily she has many towels. With toweled hair, she ranks her spine to see the mirror image. Bags under her eyes are physical proof of the weariness that cocoons her. Well, even if she cannot totally remove the flicker of pity she has seen skate across Deeks' face, she can definitely do something to even appear like she's okay. She applies the standard makeup that's required for a young woman in LA on a Sunday afternoon. Afternoon?
She checks the time and realizes it's nearly 1.00 PM. Must be the pain medication. Luckily she is not one of the types that becomes high on their pain medication and reveals stupid, embarrassing things. Last time any of that happened to her was a night-out in high school with a girlfriend who encouraged her to drink too heavily. Next morning, everybody in her circle of friends knew that she had a crush on Javier and still slept with a teddybear. Ever since, she has been profound in holding her liquor. Definitely better than Deeks, who is a bad drunk except when he is playing a part. Perhaps not as good as Callen and Sam, but also better than Nate. Then again, who isn't. It's never easy to tell with Nate. He's a better psychologist/liar than anyone gives him credit for.
It feels weird to apply mascara when you cannot change pants on your own. She tries, and it hurts slightly, and the casts are more inconvenient than helpful, but she manages to change into a pair of pants she uses for Pilates. They're soft and not too warm in the Los Angeles sun. She'd preferred cotton pants, like Dr. Cho had recommended, but her last pair got ruined in the laundry. She does not see herself going shopping anytime soon. Maybe she can convince Deeks... no, that'd be weird.
Although she quickly dismissed her injuries when she talked to Deeks and Hetty at the hospital yesterday, she is concerned. Dr. Cho was optimistic, and told her so, but being a lip reader has also enabled her to study faces. And she saw the flicker of doubt when he said there were no complications. Kensi cannot truly remember the doctor's words when it came to her injuries, but all she knows is both legs are broken, one needed surgery. It hurts and itches under the cast, but she has endured greater annoyances. The pain is secondary.
When she feels comfortable showing her face, she pushes the wheelchair from the bathroom, dumping the clothes she has slept in into the laundry basket. She will worry about it later. Discovering the doughnut, she wonders when Deeks had the time to fetch her favorite breakfast meal.