I must have jinxed us when I wrote that things should calm down for my OSP family once we had Beale back safe and sound. Instead they pretty much exploded, literally for me and Deeks! Even before that I should have known this would be a day to remember (as much as I’d like to forget it); half a body propped up on a bed is not something you come across every day. That sight brought back memories of the Frankenstein’s monster Bobby Griffin and his merry band of sickos left behind for us to find in the body shop a few years ago. Is it my imagination, or are criminals taking things to higher and higher levels of insanity now? Maybe I’m just getting too…old?…sensitive? for this line of work.
I definitely feel about ten years older after how close I came to losing Deeks today. I still start to cry at the thought. And smile, just a little, because who else but my husband would compare me to an overweight dog while telling me that my mere slumbering presence in the middle of the night pulls him out of anxiety attacks (we’re going to have a talk about why it took him staring death in the face to share that with me)? God, I love him so much. I really don’t want to think about his near-missanymore, but I owe it to Deeks not to just push it to the back of my mind the way I tend to. I need to remember the terror I felt today the next time we talk about getting out of the field; maybe then I’ll be able to commit to a timeline for leaving NCIS and moving on to the next stage of our life together.
I’m so glad (and relieved, and every other positive adjective there is) that I thought to use the Audi to pull the door off that room when I did. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend our last minutes arguing with Deeks about the fact that I wasn’t about to leave him there to die alone. Doesn’t that idiot realize his loss is something I’d never recover from? So instead I spent that time rambling in a Deeks-worthy fashion about all kinds of nonsense. Okay, not all of it was nonsense; without a doubt I want to have children with him. And of course he’ll teach them to surf. I’ll probably teach them Spanish before French, assuming we stay in the LA area. No matter where we are, however, we will not be living in a van or hunting berries for sustenance (sounds like a promising camping trip, though), and I can’t see either one of us doing the home schooling bit, so I’m pretty sure Deeks won’t try to hold me to anything but the “making babies” part. 😊
I can only imagine what Hetty feels right now, having one of her protégés, someone she took in and helped to find a purpose, want so badly to kill her (and me and Deeks as well). I wonder if an ending like that was on her mind back when Hetty warned me about recognizing when it was time to hang up my gun? At the time I thought she was referring to waking up to find myself old and alone one day, with nothing more than my weapons to keep me company. But maybe she was also worried that I, or any of us, could become so embittered and twisted that we would turn our backs on everything we believe in and become a cold-hearted killer. Regardless of what she feared my prospects might be if I stayed in the field too long, I’m pretty sure she suspected, even then, that Deeks was the key to making sure my future would be the best possible one. For all her faults, I will always be grateful to Hetty for bringing Deeks into my life. Now it’s up to us to make sure we get the future we want. And on that note, I think I’m going to re-join my husband in bed and remind him that he’s the best thing that ever happened to me too.