Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her eyes are tear-filled dark slits. She’s pissed. At herself, at Deeks, at God. At herself because she trusted him, trusted him so much that she didn’t question why he was being investigated. Trusted him not to do this to her. At Deeks because he lied. He lied over and over and she made herself believe him. At God because He giveth, and then He taketh away. Repeatedly.
Her life is heartbreak. She just hoped, sometimes even prayed, that Deeks would never be the cause of it. It’s probably her fault. God’s punishing her, because she looked him in the eyes less than a day after he kissed her and told him that she was leaving so that he could go another round with a psychopathic torturer. He probably wanted Michele’s gun to be real, wanted to be out of a world so twisted that the most important person in his life could abandon him, like, sorry you thought I cared. Orders are orders.
Just like the orders they got to follow their team leader to the other side of the world, the orders that sent him into the building that collapsed around them, on top of him. He shoved her out the door, projecting her as she jumped away from the explosion, but the rubble was quicker than he was. She fell to her knees beside the smoking debris, shoved away concrete and beams and wood and fire. She rolled him over, so that she could see his face. His forehead was bleeding and his mouth was slightly open because he’d been screaming at her to go, and his leg was bent at a strange angle. He also wasn’t moving.
When Callen and Sam found them, she was sobbing, shaking, too afraid to check for a pulse, too afraid to touch his mangled body. They had to pull her away from his side, and Sam grabbed her face, trying to break her trance. "Kensi, look at me. What happened?“