In which Deeks learns something important... and blood-thirsty readers finally get to discover what happened when he was shot.
How bad can it be?
Do you really want me to answer that? Well, let's put it this way: I was glad I was sitting down. Because as I watched the tape playing silently, I could remember everything: the cold concrete of the sidewalk penetrating though my jacket so that I was shivering even as my warm blood soaked my jeans; the way that I was lying staring up at the sky and thinking idly what a beautiful day it was and how stupid it would be to go and mess everything up by dying; the noise of the traffic and the distant, slightly hysterical screaming of someone in the distance. My head was throbbing like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the back of my skull and my leg felt as if it was being stabbed by a red-poker that some especially sadistic devil was twirling around inside my flesh. And I knew that I was going to die. The sun was very bright, and I was shutting my voice and just letting myself zone out. All of a sudden I was just too tired to do anything else. And I was so cold; my whole body was shivering convulsively. And then she was there…
"Deeks!"
When Kensi shouts in that tone of voice, you pay attention, if you know what's good for you. I know exactly what is good for me, so I snap my eyes open.
"Sorry, Kensi."
"Don't you dare say you're sorry," she says fiercely and then she clenches her whole hand around the wound in my leg, squeezing as hard as she could. Did I ever tell you how strong Kensi is? Take it from me – she's strong. So, she squeezes and I yell as loudly as any bull at Pamplona.
"Oh God, I'm sorry, Deeks But I have to."
"I thought we weren't allowed to say 'sorry'?" I object. Why should there be one rule for her and another for me? That doesn't make sense and it's not fair.
"I know. But I'm sorry anyway." And then she squeezes a bit tighter and I yell again and that's when she starts crying.
How could I have forgetten that? Kensi was crying. I don't mean that she had tears in her eyes, or even that the odd tear trickled slowly down her cheek – no, she was really crying. And Kensi never cries. Only there were definitely tears rolling down her cheeks, but despite that she never once relaxed the death-grip she had around my thigh.
"I can't stop the bleeding." She sounds completely panicked. I've never heard Kensi sound anything less than completely confident, so that just confirms things are as bad as I suspected.
"It's okay, Kensi." And it is okay. It really is. I just feel kind of peaceful and not all that bothered about anything. Which was probably on account of the fact I've lost about 20% of my blood volume.
"It's not okay, you stupid bastard. You're going to bleed to death here." The words come out amidst a torrent of sobs.
"I know. And I've got to tell you something." I don't think I've got much time left, so this had better be quick.
"I'm not listening. Do you hear me? I'm not listening and you're not dying. Understand?"
Of course I understood. I knew exactly what was happening. I'd been waiting for this moment for over a year now, knowing in my subconscious that I was living on borrowed time, that each day was a gift. Last year I lay on the floor of a convenience store and waited for the shot that would kill me, only it never came. So the way I look at it, I've had a year's grace. I've had a year that I probably should never have had and I got to spend a lot of that year with Kensi. Actually, all the best parts of that year were spent with Kensi. I thought I would live forever and that there was so much time stretching out ahead of me I could take things slowly. I was wrong. So I had to make good use of the few remaining minute of my allotted span.
"Kensi – you were such a great partner. You were seriously great."
"Shut up, Deeks." She can hardly get the words out: her face is wet with tears, her nose is red and despite everything I think that she has honestly never looked more beautiful, simply because she is Kensi and she is here. And I don't want to die, because I don't want to leave her: I just want to be with her. Is that so much to ask?
"I loved working with you, Kensi."
I remember quite clearly that I wanted to say something more, but suddenly there were familiar voices intruding into my thoughts, and I could feel other people touching me – taking my pulse, pressing their hands down on the wound and the pain was starting to get to the level where it was impossible to concentrate.
"Hold on. Deeks? Are you listening to me?"
"I'm tired, Sam."
"Listen to me. Deeks? Open your eyes and listen to me."
If I thought Kensi was bossy, then Sam is a thousand times worse. "Okay. But make it quick." This dying business is harder than I thought. Especially when people just won't leave me alone to die in peace.
"You're not dying." Sam's trying to sound efficient and practical, but I don't really believe him "I've almost managed to stop the bleeding and the ambulance is on the way. They're nearly here. So hold on."
I hear what he is saying, and I register that key word – 'almost'. So I'm still bleeding out. Sam is staring at me, and I can't help noticing that his eyes are huge, the pupils vastly dilated. And the pain from the pressure he's exerting on my leg is forcing me back to full consciousness. Bugger.
"I'm cold." What a stupid thing to say and how pathetic I sound. Of course I'm cold. I'm lying on the sidewalk in a pool of my blood for God's sake, so it stands to reason that I'm cold. Sam pulls off his jacket and tucks it around me. God, that was a nice thing to do.
Oh God, I think I'm dying and I'm not ready. Oh God – please? I don't want to die.
"Deeks?" Callen's face swims into view in a highly disconcerting manner. "Kensi needs to say something."
As I watch I see his hand go out and kind of grab Kensi, pulling her down so she's kneeling beside me, wiping her nose on the back of her hand, just like some little kid. Only of course her hands are covered in blood – my blood - and she smears it all over her face. It should be funny – but it isn't.
Looking back and trying to be objective, I think this is the moment when I knew things were really bad and I probably wasn't not going to make it. But you can't tell that from the tape, which just shows me lying on the ground, Sam pressing down on my wound, which is still bleeding, Callen standing by my head and is Kensi kneeling at my side. And she is kneeling in my blood, her jeans are soaking up my blood and that's hard to watch.
"Hey Marty." She's trying to smile and I know she's trying to be brave and that frightens me. It doesn't matter what Sam says or does because seeing Kensi like that scares the living daylights out of me. Not that I reckon I've got too many of these left now. And then she bends forward, puts her hands on either side of my face and kisses me. Really kisses me. And that is the moment I know I'm definitely dying, because Kensi kisses me. And that means I can say anything, because now I don't have to worry about the consequences.
"Stay with me."
I want to say more, to ask her to stay with me always, because she's the one, she's always been the one and if I have to die, then I need her to be there with me, because I'm scared. I'm so damned scared and I don't want to die. I want to live and love and be with Kensi. There are so many things I want to do and so many things I want to say and they are all connected to Kensi. Why did I waste so much time? Why did I ever assume I would have enough time? I should have known that life is short. It's all my fault and I'm going to die and Kensi is never going to know how much I loved her, because it's too hard to talk now. It's hard to breath, to stay awake and I don't think I can actually speak anymore. That has to be a first: Marty Deeks, not able to say a word. Under other circumstances, Kensi would be noting it down in her diary and circling it in red. Only she doesn't keep a diary, does she? According to Kensi, it's a journal. I wonder if she ever wrote about us in it? I'd love to read it, to see the world through her eyes, only now I'm never going to have that chance.
"I'll be here, Marty. Always." And then her lips move, but no sound comes out, but that's okay. You don't have to be able to lip-read to work out what those three words are.
As I watch the tape, once again I can see Kensi's lips move and I know what she is saying. I'm sitting there watching, like the crappy surveillance tape is the latest Hollywood blockbuster or something, and there's a big, goofy grin on my face. I haven't felt this good since Aunt Tilly gave me fifty bucks for my tenth birthday and I went out and bought a whole load of Superman comic books from this store and just sat in our shed for hours, reading them and living in a world where truth and justice prevailed. I've still got them all, and I might just haul them out and re-read them again when I get back home.
It would be nice if Kensi kissed me again, but this is real life, not make-believe, so what actually happens is that as I watch the paramedics arrive and start doing their thing. Callen helps Kensi up onto her feet and then pulls her into a hug, while Sam sits back on his heels and just stares up at the sky. There must be a fault on the tape because it looks like he wipes his eyes after a couple of minutes. And then Hetty arrives on the scene and takes charge instantly. No change there then. I have this theory that minute Hetty waltzes up to the Pearly Gates, she's going to start telling St Peter how things should be done, and that he's just going read, mark and inwardly digest, as my high school history teacher used to say. And then he's going to do exactly what she says, just like everyone else. As the tape continues, I see Hetty speak briefly to the team and then go over to the paramedics, who are fussing over my prone body. Shortly afterwards, they load me in the ambulance and Hetty clambers in afterwards.
"You came with me?" I look at her in considerable astonishment.
"Of course." Outwardly, Hetty is as cool as a cucumber, but is there just the slightest tremor in her voice? Probably not. She's seen more wounded men and women than I've had haircuts, after all. "When something happens to one of my team, I will always be there." She gives me this look and I kind of get the idea she's thinking about that time she went after the Commescu's – and we went after her.
"I think I've seen enough."
Eric stops the tape and as I lean my head back, trying to make some sense out of everything I've just seen, the doors open and Kensi and Sam walk in. She doesn't look quite so wild-eyed as she did before, but her body is full of tension, like she's barely holding herself in check. No chance of a tender reunion then. I should have known. You would think I'd learn, wouldn't you? Well, maybe I have.
"Nice of you to join us."
Whoops. That was the wrong thing to say. I shouldn't have said that, only I'm still sore about the fact she wasn't here when I watched the tape. What was the big deal after all? I mean, Kensi was there when it all went down, she was right there. So why couldn't she just have watched the tape with me? Was it that much to ask? It's not as if anything was going to come as a big surprise to her.
"Forgive for not wanting to relive something I've been trying to forget."
She's glaring at me and I'm glaring back and it's like normal service has been resumed. Which is a pity, because I don't want things to go back to the way they were, not now I've seen the tape and remembered what happened – and more particularly what Kensi did and said.
By mutual, if unspoken consent, the rest of the team beat a hasty retreat, so that it is just the two of us left in Ops. But we might just as well have been on opposite sides of the country.
"I know what happened."
Kensi just gives me this look, as if I'm mad. I'm giving her a chance and she's just looking at me. Maybe I need to give her a hint?
"I saw what you did. And I remember what you said." I try to smile at her, but it kind of dies on my face.
She shrugs "I thought you were dying."
"Me too."
"I only said these things because I thought you were dying." She's staring hard at me, like she's willing me to disagree or tell her she's wrong. Only I can't do that.
"I know." Of course I know that. I just wanted to believe there was something more. I didn't die back then, but it feels as if a little bit of me is dying right now.
"It didn't mean anything."
"I know." I always knew that. But just for a little while I'd kind of fooled myself into thinking there might be. It's as if someone has suddenly pulled all the oxygen out of the room and I just want to get away from here. I'm getting pretty good on the crutches now and manage to get out of the chair without looking like an eighty year-old whose just had both hips replaced.
"So we're clear about that?" Kensi asks.
"Perfectly clear." I stop and turn around to take one last look at her. "And, Kensi? I'm sorry."
That takes her completely by surprise. "What for?"
"For disappointing you by not dying." And then the doors open and I walk out.
Honestly. I despair of them. And so does slushy plot bunny. But he's going to start interfering any minute now. Kind of like a furry cupid with buck teeth.