Comminication Skills

We'd Both Be Dead Before We Could Say, 'Armageddon.'

I yawned, setting my head down on my desk. It’d been a week of sleeping alone. Five out of seven of those sleeping alone nights had ended in me screaming on my bed at two a.m. The other two nights I’d just stayed up, not wanting to take the risk. I was literally living off coffee. I wasn’t sleeping, or eating. I was just… there.

            I felt something hit my head and sat up instantly. Deeks was smiling at me. On my desk was a balled up piece of paper. I unfolded it. It said, simply, “Working hard or hardly working?”

            I rolled my eyes at Deeks, but smiled. It was cute. He shrugged and went back to his paperwork. I stood up. I needed more coffee.

            “You don’t need coffee, Kens, you need sleep,” Deeks murmured, sliding up beside me as I poured myself a cup.

            I sighed. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” I muttered, turning to face Deeks. His face was screwed up with concern, and his eyes were wider than usual.

            “Don’t tell me you haven’t slept since last week.”

            “I’ve slept. Just not much. And not through the night. And not without dreaming,” I mumbled, sipping my coffee.

            He frowned. “Well, if you want, I’d be more than happy to come sleep with you, just so you could sleep. I’m just trying to be a good partner.”

            I laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “In your dreams, Loverboy.”

            The smile on his face told me I was already in his dreams. And you’re in mine, I thought, with a hint of sadness. He noticed my smile falter and me look down, and took a step closer.

            “You don’t seem fine, Kensi. Or okay.”

            I sighed. Just then there was a whistle from upstairs. I heard Eric yell, “We have a case!”

            Please let it involve me sharing a bed with Deeks, I thought with another melancholy sigh.

            I followed Callen and Sam up to Ops, Deeks behind me. Up there, Nell had pulled up a picture of a dead guy. I frowned. He looked strangely familiar.

            “Who is that guy, Nell?” I asked her.

            Her eyes were casted down sadly. “This is N.C.I.S Special Agent Marcus Heinsworth. His body was discovered last night by Monica pier. He was undercover, and it seems as if he was made.”

            “Undercover?” Deeks piped up. “For what?”

            Nell looked over at Eric, who says quietly, “They were given security clearance.”

            I looked over at Deeks, who looked back at me. Security clearance? This was serious.

            Nell sighed. “Agent Heinsworth was undercover trying to infiltrate Los Demonios, a gang here in L.A. targeting Marines. So far there have been eight reported deaths tied to them, four of them Navy, the other four Marines. We believe that the cover provided for Heinsworth wasn’t strong enough, and Los Demonios was able to determine he was an agent through very hi-tech software.”

            I stared hard at the picture of Agent Heinsworth pre-death. He was African-American, and not bad looking with his muscular build and chocolate-brown eyes. I felt a pang of anger. This gang killed one of ours. We needed to bring it down.