It's a fabulous day – bright skies, a mild wind and because it's still early in the year, there's not too many people on the beach –just a few local people, out walking their dogs. When we eventually tire of flying the kite, we just start walking along the sand, talking about everything and nothing. What with one thing and another, we're still on the beach when dusk starts to fall and the long perfect day starts to fold in upon itself.
"I always love this time of day." Kensi has a mystic look in her eyes as she gazes out westwards to where the sun is just starting to touch the very edge of the water. "You feel as if anything could happen."
"Anything can happen." I'm standing behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist and resting my head on her shoulder. It's hard to remember a time when I felt more relaxed or more certain that the world is full of wonderful surprises just waiting to be discovered.
"I believe you." She leans back against me, moving her head so that our cheeks are touching. "For so long I was scared to let myself get involved again. I had to stay focused on finding the men who killed my dad – that was the most important thing in my life. So I pushed away the thought of ever finding love for myself. But that's over now."
All the confusing signals she gave out make sense know that I know about Kensi's childhood and her obsessive quest to find out the truth about the father's death. "I understand. I know how much you loved him."
"How much I still love him," she corrects "I'll always love him. Come what may – no matter what. You don't just stop loving because the person is gone. But now I've got you, and I feel like I'm complete again. I had all this love inside me, and there was nowhere for it to go – until now."
She could be talking about me. Perhaps she is? Kensi is a wise woman, and it can't have escaped her notice that I don't exactly talk about my family. In the early days, when we'd just started working together, I used to spin a few a tales, tell a few funny stories, but after I was shot in the convenience store and the truth came out, I stopped that. It seemed safest, somehow. And she never called me on that, not once. Kensi never asked me why I shot my father – and I realise she's just been waiting for me to be ready to talk about it. She's been incredibly patient.
I look up and see that the sky is shot through with a myriad of colours, vast streaks of gold, amber, vermillion and purple are staining the heavens and below them the sea is wine-dark and mysterious. The beach is deserted now, except for us and we could be the only two people in the world. Perhaps this is my confessional? I know I can trust her, but it's just that I've hidden all this for so long that it's difficult to know where to begin.
"That's the funny thing about love, isn't it? You can't just stop loving someone – not even when you think you might hate them. I guess that was always my problem – I loved not wisely, but too well." I'm glad we're both standing staring out at the sunset, because I don't think I could talk about this if I had to look at Kensi. My life would have been a lot easier if I just could have brushed away all the hurt and rejection – but the fact remains that I loved and I desperately wanted to be loved in return. That's the penalty of being human – we all need to give and receive love.
"No." She puts her hands on top of mine and then she kisses my cheek. "Your problem is that your parents abused you, and there was no one to help."
I don't say anything. What is there to say? It's the truth, after all. The truth that I've carefully concealed for just about all of my life. They trained me well, you see. Scream quietly, so the neighbours don't hear… If you tell, you will be taken away. It's our fault, Marty. All the lies, all the conditioning, all the guilt they laid upon me from when I was too young to know any better.
"I know what they did to you." Her voice is hard and tight. "When you were in hospital? They did a full body scan. And all those old injuries showed up. All the broken bones going back to when you were just a little boy." Her voice trembles, and then it breaks completely. "Oh, Marty."
I can't cope with this if she's going to cry. Because then I'll cry too. And I don't cry. I haven't cried for years. Crying just made it worse, you see. So I try to make a joke. "They told people I was clumsy. Which I was, I guess. Always walking into a fist, that was me." I've used jokes for years, as a way of deflecting attention. But this time it doesn't work, in fact it falls completely flat,
Oh God, this is so hard. I've never spoken about this before, not to anyone. Ray knew, of course, and I guess most people did, now I come to think about it, but it wasn't anything anybody actually talked about. What was there to say? Bruises and cuts and broken bones are easy enough to explain away when the kid in question is always rushing around headlong and is into just about every sport there is. Going to football practice and little league and spending hours on my skateboard was one way of making sure I wasn't around the house too much – and it meant I was out of reach. They never hit me in public, you see. Just behind closed doors. Most people only see what they want to see, after all, and on paper my family looked pretty good: two successful parents and a sports-mad kid who was kind of accident-prone. But after my father broke my jaw, Ray called a halt to things. He came round after school one day and gave me that gun. 'Just in case,' he said, giving me a look that was loaded with meaning. Looking back, I guess he saved my life. 'Always shoot first,' he told me. So I did – and that's probably why I'm alive right now, and standing here on this beach with Kensi watching an incredibly beautiful sunset. You see, people think that it's only the junkies, or the folks that live in trailer parks that beat up their kids. It doesn't happen in nice middle-class neighbourhoods. Only it happens. It happens all the time, but people like to pretend it doesn't – it's easier that way. We moved around a lot, when I was kid, which didn't help. Just when people were starting to wonder if maybe things weren't quite as they appeared, my dad would get another promotion, and we'd move to a bigger house, in a new area, with a new school. The system wasn't designed to catch kids like me before we fell through the holes. My parents were very convincing, when they had to be. Sometimes they even managed to convince me that they really loved me, and it was all my fault. And I didn't know any better, so I believed them. It's taken me a long time to think that anyone would actually love me. It's taken Kensi to finally turn my life around and make me whole again.
"I wish things had been different for you," Kensi whispers, and a tear runs slowly down her cheek. "I wish you hadn't gone through all that, alone."
"Me too." There's a huge lump in my throat. "Most of all, I just wish I hadn't loved them. You know, right up to the night when Hetty told me my dad was dead I still used to think that maybe he'd get in touch, that we could rebuild our relationship. Only he'd been dead since I was 17."
Try as I might to repress them, all the memories come flooding back: of that time, and of Hetty walking out of the hospital room leaving me alone. I was still groggy from the anaesthetic, and doped up to the eyeballs on painkillers, plus I was feeling particularly crappy, so I just lay there and stared at the file she'd left, trying desperately to come to terms with the news that my father had been dead for over ten years. We were never going to have a proper father/son relationship, I know that, only I'd always kind of hoped we might have managed to build something. But that night all hope was officially dead. I was too numb to even cry, but even so, that has to rank as one of the worst nights of my life, and no mistake.
"You never stopped loving him, did you?" Kensi turns around and takes me in her arms and I just bury my head in the crook of her neck.
"No." I can't say anything more, because my throat feels like it's about to close up. And I know he didn't deserve it, but it would have been good to be able to tell him that, just once. So that he knew he was loved. Only that is never going to happen. It shouldn't affect me like this, I know he's not worth it – but since when did love ever listen to logic? And that's when I know I'm going to break down completely. Squeezing my eyes tight shut doesn't help a whole lot, because I can't hold back the tears any longer. All the years of hurt – both mental and physical - that I've bottled up for so many years finally come bursting forth and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it. I can't hold back the pain any longer, but that's alright. It's time to let it all come out. I'm with Kensi and I'm safe. There's no need to pretend any more. There's over thirty years of pain locked up inside me, and it's all coming out now, as the sun falls out of the sky and drowns itself in the endless ocean.
"That's okay. Everything's okay. Just let it all out. You're safe. I'm here."
Kensi is stroking my hair and I finally know what it is to trust somebody so completely that you have no secrets from them: I can rip open me soul apart and reveal all the darkness that sometimes threatens to overwhelm me – and I can do this in the knowledge that she will not judge; rather that she will accept this and she will still love me and not judge me, or think that I am any less of a man for daring to love and to be hurt. I've been looking for that love all of my life and I've finally found it. I can't remember crying in front of a woman before, far less in her arms, but I just need her so much. Who would have thought there could be so much solace in an embrace? So I weep and Kensi lets me. She gives me the incredible gift of letting me finally release the pain and by doing so, it finally starts to leave.
Afterwards, we sit for a long time on the beach, not really talking, just listening to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, and watching the sun sink slowly down into the ocean, a vibrant crimson ball of flame that gradually disappears into darkness. And I feel peace seem to seep into every fibre of my being. Peace and utter contentment, like I've finally found what I've been searching for all of my life.
"Thank you. For understanding. And I'm sorry for laying all this on you."
The moon is starting to rise, and it's a pale sliver glimmering among the stars. It's noticeably colder and we're leaning into one another.
"Don't ever apologise for loving people," Kensi says. "You've got such a big heart and so much love to give. That's one of the things I love about you. But mostly, I just love you because you're you."
It's hard to see her face through the darkness, but sometimes you don't need to look, you just have to reach out and know that she will be there. Her lips are slightly cold and they taste like the sea, but her mouth is warm and welcoming. Kissing her sends a flame of desire flickering through my body, banishing the chill of the evening.
"We should go back."
We should return to the cottage that looks like it has come straight out of a fairytale, so that it can weave its spell around us again. I want to spend the rest of the evening with my arms around Kensi, I want her face to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep with her in my arms and when I wake up in a warm, tangled muddle of limbs, I want to know that when I open my eyes her face will be the first thing I see. I just want her: now and forever.
"Let's go home," Kensi agrees, so we walk slowly back up the beach to where the car is parked underneath the trees and we leave the ocean to its secrets as the moon and the stars pour down their light. The only sounds that can be heard are the soft crunch of sand underfoot, the waves lapping gently as the tide ebbs and flows, and the faint rustle of leaves. If this isn't paradise, it's the next best thing.
So, finally they trust each other. No more secrets, no more barriers... two wounded people finally allowed to heal. Slushy plot bunny is sitting beside me, eating chocolate and humming happily.