Michael, and his daughter slip out the front door. Kensi looks to Michael for guidance, but he just smiles, and tosses his daughter the car keys.
"You're driving," he tells her.
"Daddy! I can't reach the pedals," she giggles as she races off the front porch.
"Soon," he grins.
Kane points to the door, "Come inside."
She nods in agreement, and follows the teenager into the house. He leads her into a living room, and suggests the couch. She agrees. He stands next to the couch, smiling.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thank you."
He nods, and takes a seat next to her. He opens one of the drawers on the coffee table, and pulls out a scrapbook. He scoots a hair closer to her, and places the blue scrapbook on her lap. He opens the cover, and finds his name written in feminine handwriting.
"My step mom made this for me, when she married my dad. She called it my story, and every so often she would add to it," he explains.
"She sounds wonderful."
"She was," he turns the page.
She stares at the pictures on the first page, and is surprised to see herself. She is standing in a backyard, next to Michael. He is wearing his uniform, and she is in a black t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylor's. He quickly picks up on her facial expression.
"You didn't think that you would be in here?"
She shakes her head, "I forgot that your uncle took that picture," she admits.
He flips to the next page, and she sees a baby picture of him. She notices the buttons on his onesie are miss-fastened.
He smiles, "I don't think uncle Kevin knew what he was doing."
Kensi lifts her butt off the couch. She reaches into her back pocket, and pulls something out.
"I have a couple you can add," she tells him, offering a couple of pictures to him.
He takes the pictures from her. They are copies of polaroid pictures. He smiles, seeing a picture of himself in his basinet at the hospital. He flips to the next picture, and finds a picture of him asleep in her arms.
"When I was pregnant with you I was working for a catering company. I was waiting on this couple, and the woman asked me if I had a camera. I told her I didn't. I thought that she wanted me to take a picture of her with her husband. She very abruptly left the table. I thought that I had offended her, so I left. She found me a few minutes later. I guess she had gone to her car. She was getting ready to take some things to a thrift store. Her daughter left for college, and in the process she put a few items in the box. She gave me the camera, and a roll of film."
"Shouldn't you have been in school?"
She nods, "I most certainly should have."
"Why weren't you?"
"It doesn't matter," she insists.
"You should have been in school," he points out.
"My father died, when I was fifteen. I was devastated. I ended up living on the streets for a while," she admits.
"Because of me?"
She shakes her head, "No. You were not involved in that decision making process. To be honest you weren't even a twinkle in my eye at that point."
He opens another drawer on the coffee table, and pulls out a roll of tape. He secures the two photographs to the page. He turns the page. She studies each page. They move from infancy into toddlerhood, onto preschool, and every first day of school after that. She finds pictures of birthdays, holidays, and sporting events. There are pictures of him at Michael's wedding. There is a picture of him asleep in Emily's arms. One picture shows him on top of his dad's shoulders at the beach. They reach the back of the book, and she finds a senior picture.
"You shouldn't be a senior until next year," she points out.
"I am too smart for my own good, so I skipped preschool. Dad always says I was born with a book in my hand."
She grins, "I do recall that. I think you were reading Moby Dick," she jokes.
"It is a classic. I am graduating next month, and going off to college."
"Off to college?"
"By off to college I mean USC."
"Not the marine corp?"
"I have a full ride to USC on a football scholarship."
"Really?""
"Yup I am a running back. I am also a state finalist in archery."
"Football, and archery?"
"I am also on the debate team."
"I also hear you make a mean batch of chocolate chip pancakes."
He shrugs, "Guilty as charged."
"Any other hobbies, or activities I should know about?"
"Marksmanship, and geocaching."
"Did you take the ASVAB?"
"Recruiters have been beating down the door, but that isn't the kind of life that I want. I just want to be in one place. If I want adventure I can go on vacation."
She stares into the boy's sapphire eyes. She turns the conversation in a more serious direction.
"I am so sorry that I missed all of it. I missed everything."
"You're here now."
"Aren't you angry?"
"I was for a while. I couldn't understand why you weren't around. I thought that maybe it was something that I did."
"It wasn't."
"I know that."
"How did you overcome it?"
"I wanted to know where I came from. I found out where you were years ago. One day when I was eleven I made it my mission to see you. My father refused to let that happen, without your knowledge, or consent. One day I convinced my uncle to take me to a coffee shop in your neighborhood. I told him we were on a recon mission, and he played along. You came in, and got your coffee, and never noticed me. I just wanted to see you in person. When I got home I was upset, so my dad suggested that I do something to make me feel close to you. That is when I started working on marksmanship."
"I saw you. Your uncle was hiding behind the newspaper, sitting next to you on a booth, with his boots sticking out in the aisle way. You were watching out the window. You must have seen me get into my car."