Tag to ep 7x10: Internal Affairs.

Her hands never strayed far from him, whether it was her fingers laced between his under the table, her palm resting protectively on his back, or her fingertips dancing along his thigh. Kensi was happy, so goddamn happy that Deeks thought her face had to be hurting from the huge smile that had graced it since she tackle-hugged him at the boat shed. The first time she truly let any distance exist between them since he'd shown up at Callen's favorite bar was when it was her turn to pick up a round of drinks for everybody. Even then she lingered, not letting him out of her sight as she walked backwards towards the bar.

She thought it was over. The investigation into his past, not their relationship. She still had no idea that it would never actually be over. His guilt would remain a fact no matter how innocent she believed him to be.

"Deeks." Granger's gruff voice snapped him back to the bad music, good beer, and great company that surrounded him. It was time for him to fix his face and attitude again, but he was exhausted. This, everything about these last two days had physically and mentally drained him to the point where he was about to crack.

He still had to keep up the facade, though. "Sup?"

"We know you did it." This time it was Callen that spoke, his normally mild voice even quieter than usual.

Deeks didn't panic, not on the outside anyway. "I'm sorry?"

"Cut the bull," Granger muttered.

Sam's face looked almost as pained as Deeks felt when he raised chocolate eyes to his blue. "We don't care why."

"Really don't want to know how," Granger added.

Callen clenched his jaw and glanced at the bar where Kensi stood. "But there's someone who needs and deserves to know these things."

Shaking his head, Deeks chuckled lightly. This was quite the group to be lecturing him about honesty. It was almost a relief that they had some semblance of an idea about the truth, but two out of the three of the men staring at him had no room to try to give relationship advice. One did, and he was the most quiet of the group that night. "Sam?"

"You can't keep this up forever, Deeks." Sam dropped his hands to his lap and sighed. "And the longer you try, the worse it's going to be for everyone when you fail."

Deeks blinked, then turned his attention to Kensi. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but that was unavoidable. He tried to tell her when she came to see him in jail, but she wouldn't stay and listen. No matter what, she believed in his innocence and was going to fight and fight until he was free. He'd never really be free, he thought.

And what would happen if he did confess to her and tarnished her image of him? Would he have to then continue with the tale of how he tortured a cleric in Afghanistan for her? Or how if the team hadn't been there to stop him, he probably would have shot Frank Scarli square in the chest and claimed self-defense? And while they were on the subject, why not bring up how it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be to pull the trigger of that .38 revolver pointed at his dad?

Kensi deserved better than to have to bear the weight of those memories. She fought like hell for him, or who she thought he was, and he honestly believed it was because he made her happy. She loved him. And her happiness would always come before his, just like her life would. Once they fell down that rabbit hole of past lies and repressed truths, there would be no coming back.

Deeks looked anxiously between the men at his table. They were right, and he hated it. Hetty was wrong, and he knew it. Nothing about this would be easy, or simple. "I know," he mumbled, watching as Kensi returned to the table with three pitchers. "I know."

"You know what, baby?" Kensi asked, sliding the beer onto the table and plopping beside him.

"That I should have helped you carry the pitchers to the table," he answered, the lie sliding easily off of his tongue. They always did. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," she responded with a grin. Sam and Callen worked to fill everyone's steins, but all he could focus on was her and her smile. He could stare at that smile forever, and hated that he would be the one to make it fade away. "Shall we make a toast?"

"Um." Deeks shrugged and grabbed his beer. "Sure. What are we, uh, toasting to?"

All eyes were on him as she clinked her beer against his. "To freedom."

If she noticed his face fall, she didn't say anything. "Freedom," they all echoed.

He was surrounded by friends and in love and free, and could celebrate all of those things. For now.