She pulls onto a suburban street, pulling onto the curb. She puts the car into park, and contemplates what to do next. She turns off the lights. Part of her wants to drive away, and never return. The other part of her begs her to get out of the car, and go up to the house to her right. Tears form in her eyes as she considers her next move. She reaches for the keys, and the engine turns over. She fights tears the entire way home. She pulls into her driveway, and exits her vehicle. She heads into her house, and finds Deeks sitting on the couch eating Ramen. He looks up at her, and flips off the TV. She takes a seat next to him, and the tears begin to fall like rain. He places his half eaten bowl of pasta on the coffee table. He reaches forward, and pulls her close.
"It's okay," he reassures her.
The crying does not stop. For the next several moments the tears continue to fall from her eyes. The liquid rolls down her cheeks. As he holds onto her, her head is pressed against his shoulder. His t-shirt becomes increasingly wetter with every passing moment. Eventually she lets go of him. He wipes the tears from her face.
"Tell me what's really going on here."
"It's complicated."
"I don't care," he points out.
"You will," she argues.
"Tell me."
"Okay," she nods in agreement.
She walks past the recruiter's office for the third time today. She finds herself daydreaming of a life different than the one she leads. She is so caught up in her daydream that she doesn't look up as she walks, or hear the footsteps coming towards her. She smacks into a tall handsome Marine in uniform. She blushes, "I'm sorry." She glances at his nametag. It reads GRANT. She studies his insignia's. He is older than she is, with dark hair, and dark eyes.
"What's your name?" He questions.
"Kensi," she answers, suddenly feeling subconscious.
"You have been walking around out here all day. Is there something I can interest you in?"
"No, sir," she breaks eye contact.
"Kensi, my name is Kevin," he extends a hand.
She looks at him in confusion.
"I am off the clock. How old are you?"
She simply shrugs.
"Are you old enough to be recruited?"
"No," she shakes her head. She wears a backpack. Her jeans are tattered, and she has dark circles under her eyes.
"How old are you? You know what, it doesn't matter. I have seen you around here the past few days. You are always camped out on that park bench," he points past her, "Kensi when was the last time you had a good meal, and a hot shower?"
"I," she hesitates.
"That's what I thought. How would you like a good meal, and a hot shower?"
"I should really go," she tells him.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her, "My brother is waiting at home. He just got back from boot camp a while back, and suddenly he only knows how to cook for an army. He isn't a great cook, but he's making chicken, which is pretty hard to screw up. Why don't you come over, and have a bite to eat? You can crash on the couch if you want."
"I don't want to bother anyone."
"It's no bother," he insists.
Hours later she finds herself with a full belly, and cleanly showered. She sits at the end of the couch. She hears footsteps, and finds Michael moving towards her. He carries a blanket, and a pillow.
"Get up," he tells her.
She vacates her seat on the couch, as he proceeds to prepare the couch.
"Thanks," she responds.
"Guests don't sleep on the couch," he tells her, "You can have my rack."
"You don't have to do that," she insists.
"I do. Let me show you."
She follows him down the hall. He leads her into the room. She finds a twin bed with fresh linen, and hospital corners. She takes a seat on the bed.
"You don't have to do this. I can't repay you."
He grins, "Sure you can."
"How?"
"Tell me why you keep hanging out in front of the recruitment office?"
She shrugs, "I guess I just always thought I would enlist."
"I graduated high school at seventeen. I enlisted before my eighteenth birthday. I am barely an adult, and I just got orders that I'm going overseas. Why would you want to do that?"
"I always have," she answers.
"How long did you stay with them?"
"A couple of weeks. Michael shipped out, and Kevin got orders the next day. They offered to let me stay, but I couldn't."
"I still don't understand," he admits.
"It was shortly after my dad died. I was alone, and…" she trails off.
"And? You didn't want to see him, or what?"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Please don't shut me out," he begs.
"He has moved on with his life."
"It's just him, and his kids. His wife died, and he is raising his son, and daughter on his own. His brother moved closer, so he and his wife could help him out. He probably would have welcomed seeing a familiar face. He just lost his brother."
She shakes her head, "He wouldn't have wanted to see me."
"How do you know that?"
"You know what," she vacates her seat, "It doesn't matter."