A/N: Thanks everyone for your lovely responses to this story. I hope I continue to make it enjoyable. Once again, I am not a medical professional, and I freely admit that I am not portraying everything with completely accuracy.

Callen pulled in front of Kensi and Deeks' house, mouth set in a grim line. Yesterday, Kensi had sent a group text, inviting them all to dinner, not at an unusual occurrence, but concerning given recent circumstances.

He'd only seen them a few times since they went on medical and family leave, but even in those small instances, Callen could tell they were struggling to remain positive. Deeks hid it especially well, drifting between sarcasm and wry acceptance.

Sam's Challenger and a sports car he didn't recognize were pulled into the driveway. Sam leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed, and greeted Callen with a half nod.

"You got any idea of what this is about?" he asked.

Callen sighed. "Nope. Just that it's not good."

"It might not be all that bad. You know Deeks likes to be dramatic. Remember all the times he's teased pretended to have memory loss?"

"He wouldn't joke about this," Callen said quietly, and Sam blew out a long, heavy breath.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed, running his hand over his jaw. "Damn. You should have seen Kensi the other day before his appointment. She couldn't get out of the bullpen fast enough."

"I imagine. Alright, we better go in." Callen nudged his shoulder as they headed for the door. "Whatever happens, try not to go all drill sergeant on Deeks. He needs nice Sam."

"What're you talking about? I'm always nice," Sam protested.

"Uh-huh? Like when you lectured him on safety measures right after he was shot or got him out of his hospital bed after Sidorov? Or—"

"Ok, ok, I get your point." Shaking his head in apparent annoyance, Sam muttered something under his breath. "I'll try to keep my urges at bay."

"Good."

Kensi answered the door it's a careworn smile and hugs for each of them.

"Hey, thanks for coming. C'mon in. We're in the living room."

When they walked in, Deeks sat at one end of the couch, Nell Jones occupying the middle section and pressed up against his side. Eric sat across from them in a cushioned armchair, sporting a palm tree printed shirt underneath his leather jacket.

The sight made Callen smile briefly. At least some things stayed the same.

"Sam, Callen, it's good to see you guys," Nell exclaimed, hopping up to hug them too.

"You too. Didn't know you two were coming."

Nell rolled her eyes at Sam. "Like we'd be anywhere else. We wanted to come earlier but had to straighten out a few business things first."

"Well, we appreciate it," Deeks spoke up. He stood, hiding the effort it took admirably. It was kind of horrific though to think that just standing was hard for the guy who'd one a push-up match just a couple months ago.

He hadn't lost much weight yet, but to Callen's eyes, he could see the increased definition around his muscles, pronounced cheeks and jaw, and thanks to increased water retention, slightly swollen wrists and fingers.

He'd read the statistics on kidney failure, and they weren't pretty. There was a whole host of causes, including damage from severe injuries to internal organs. It didn't seem fair though. Maybe in part because it was all so sudden. Just a few months ago, their teammate, friend, was seemingly healthy and no he wasn't.

Fatima and Rountree arrived a few minutes later, toting several bags of food they'd volunteered to bring despite Kensi's protests. No one seemed eager to eat, so after an extended pause, Deeks chuckled wryly.

"Uh…I guess you're probably wondering why we invited you here," he started, glancing to Kensi. She crossed the room and sat on his other side, resting her hand on his back. "I guess there's no other way to put it: the kidney treatment isn't having the results we were hoping for." He dragged in a shaky breath, licking his bottom lip while looking down abruptly.

Kensi grasped his hand, using her other hand to clasp around the back of his skull, pulling him to her chest. She kissed the crown of his head. They stayed that way for a few moments. When Deeks straightened again, his eyes were noticeably red.

"The, um, I need a kidney transplant," he finished. "My doctor said just removing the affected kidney isn't an option because he's worried something might happen to the other one too."

"Oh my god," Nell gasped, reaching for his other hand. "Deeks…"

He smiled wryly, turning to humor as always. "I know. When I get sick, I really go all in, don't I?"

"Deeks, I'm so sorry," Fatima said. She had her hands twisted together, brows furrowed with disquiet. Without looking, she reached back for Rountree's hand. "Is there anything we can do?"

"You guys are already doing it. Just being here."

"If you're willing though, everyone should get HLA typing done to see if you're a possible organ match," Nell spoke up.

Although he couldn't be sure, Callen thought Kensi looked relieved and she eyed Nell almost gratefully. Deeks though, was already shaking his head.

"From what my doctor said, the best matches come from someone who's the same ethnicity as the recipient," Deeks said firmly.

"To a degree," Nell countered just as firmly. "From my research though, anyone can be a potential match regardless of their race."

"I'm not asking—"

"Screw that," Eric said bluntly. "You know we're going to whatever we can and whatever it takes to get you healthy again. Nell and I will find the best doctors, the best treatment out there."

"And I don't think anyone here has a problem with getting a blood test done," Rountree added, and his comment was followed by a group nod. When Deeks' nostrils flared in apparent frustration, Sam asked,

"Are you saying you don't want my kidney, Deeks? Cause I find that a little insulting."

Deeks snorted, the tension breaking with Sam's joke.

"No, I won't do that to you, Brother. Thank you. Everyone."

"Of course, we're family," Eric said simply.

Kensi stepped into the kitchen under the pretense of getting more salsa. Really, she just needed a minute. Everyone was being fantastic and Deeks his usual optimistic, take what life throws at you self, and it was too much. Too much information, too much shock, too many well-meaning people.

Closing her eyes, she bent over the counter, and dropped her face into her cradled hands.

Someone behind her cleared their throat and she jerked upwards, spinning around.

"Sam, I didn't hear you come in."

"Lot on your mind," he allowed gently. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"No. I'm just…" she tossed her hands in the air. "Trying to get through each day. It's always something new you know."

"I imagine the news came as a shock."

"Yes, and no." Kensi fiddled with her wedding ring. She'd been wearing it day-in recently. "I figured it might not be all positive," she admitted. "Deeks kept insisting it would be alright but-" Kensi broke off and rubbed her forehead. The back of her eyes pricked with the familiar pain of oncoming tears.

"I want to be positive too, but it's hard when I see him getting sicker every day. I don't know how to keep being strong."

"No one expects you to be," Sam told her softly.

"I'm so scared," Kensi gasped out, not resisting when Sam folded her in his arms. He was solid and reassuring in the midst of so much uncertainty.

"It's ok to be scared," Sam murmured. "This is a scary time. And it's ok to go admit that."

"I can't lose him," she whispered, a few tears finally escaping down her cheeks.

"You won't. It's going to take time and it's going to damn hard on both of you, but Deeks will make it through this." He gave her an extra squeeze. "And you got your whole family here to help."