Chapter 8: Doubt
"Doubt thou, the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar! But never doubt I love." – William Shakespeare
It's an empty kind of silence that greets her words, the kind that sucks the life out of the air and leaves the world in a hazy kind of black and white. Except her world has always been a little more gray than most, a little more out of touch. Kensi isn't quite sure what to make of that, or anything else at the moment.
Jack doesn't react, doesn't look shocked, or surprised, or the slightest bit ashamed. Instead he snaps at the guard, ordering him out in Arabic, and Kensi feels fury curling in the pit of her stomach. He walked out on her six years ago and now he doesn't even have the guts to acknowledge her. Still she bites her tongue until the guard is well out of earshot, if there's anything NCIS has taught her it's the value of secrecy.
Jack turns back to her slowly, meeting her gaze, and there's something broken in his eyes, relief and fear and maybe the tiniest hint of hope, that makes everything she wants to say die in her throat. Kensi stays still as he steps closer, within arm's reach now. It'd be far too easy to go for her ceramic blade, take his gun, and make a run for the base, but there's a hint of doubt, unease prickling at the back of her mind. The thought that says she should be dead by now, that it would have been far easier for him never to have come here, keeps her rooted to the spot.
He raises a hand that stills an inch outside of her space like he wants to reach out and touch her, but doesn't dare. Instead that hand falls back to his side and he meets her gaze head on, "I've missed you, Kens."
Maybe it's the use of that nickname, maybe it's just the reminders of heartbreak, and maybe it's been six years in the coming, but fury thrills down her spine and Kensi slaps him, hard.
There's a shocked moment of silence as her hand falls back to her side and neither one of them moves. She flexes her tingling palm, letting the sensation ground her in the here and now as Jack turns his head back to face her again. A tiny part of her wants to apologize, the same part that desperately wants to know if she could have done something more all those years ago, but she stomps on it ruthlessly. She's not the same girl he left on Christmas morning. She's stronger now and she doesn't need his approval.
Jack brings a hand up to rub at his cheek, grinning at her ruefully, "That's not how I was hoping this would go."
Kensi almost rolls her eyes at that, because really what was he expecting? Was she supposed to forget about the last six years, about a Dear John letter left on her pillow that began with goodbye? "Kens," she mocks ignoring the remnants of hurt that twist in her gut, "sweetheart, I can't do this anymore. It's not you, it's me, and this is goodbye."
Jack backs up at her words, guilt shining bright in his eyes, and she follows hands curling into loose fists at her sides, "How the hell did you think this was going to go?"
"I'm sorry, Kens." He says finally after the silence stretches taunt between them, "I never meant for this to happen."
"Which part?" She snaps, lowering her voice to a harsh, accusing whisper as Jack shots a glance at the door, "The part where you left me on Christmas morning or the part where you betrayed your country?"
Jack winces, eyes frantically darting to catch hers and this time he does reach out, hands landing heavy on her shoulders, "I never meant any of that. You have to believe me."
Kensi takes a breath, pushes the anger aside, and tries to think clearly because her mission and the lives of a lot of American personnel are still hanging in the balance. "I have to get in contact with my people, Jack." She says, suddenly. She needs her team, the people she trusts. She needs Deeks.
Jack Simon stiffens, his hands falling away from her shoulders and he backs up to put even more space between them, "I can't, Kensi-"
It's the guard hammering at the door that cuts him off and Jack yells something back in Arabic that's too quick for her to catch before turning to her again, "I have to go."
"No," Kensi snaps quietly, "Jack-"
"I have to go," he says again, more firmly this time, and he's halfway to the door before he turns back, something significant in his eyes that she can't quite pin down. "The past is a dream, Kens. You're smart enough to figure it out."
Suddenly she's back in an alley in Jalalabad, shaking hands with Callen's contact. The past is a dream… Good luck, Agent Blye.
Absentmindedly, she realizes that Jack's gone again.