A/N: Been a while since I've written something for LA. Oops. Anyways, I wrote this last week and then it magically got deleted and so here's the rewritten version. Hope you guys like it (:

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles or any associated characters.

Like the Sea

Tossing and turning...

The disgustingly bright golden light from the street lamp outside shines on the off-white sheets and brightens the room just enough so that Deeks most certainly cannot sleep. Not that he could in the first place. The bed feels unnaturally empty because she should be there.

He knows she should be there, with her dark hair pooling out around her as she sleeps like an angel— or maybe an angel of death because she's far too dangerous to be wearing a full halo. But she should still be there, asleep next to him, not quite relaxed but enough to get some rest.

Deeks continues his game of trying to figure out a way to sleep while his mind is ensnared on the fact that Kensi should be there beside him and how badly he doesn't want to be in this bed right now unless she's with him.

But work in the morning requires rest tonight and rest tonight involves at least laying down and even if that's as far as he gets, Deeks'll take it because his mind is restless and chaotic and he's barely weathering the storm as it is.

The light continues to bother his eyes and so he shifts his body and rolls over to face the nightstand and the shadows and that might've been a worse idea than bearing the sight of the empty bed because her knife is there, and it pains his chest with crashing guilt.

Dozens of scenarios roll through his mind: Kensi being held hostage and reaching for her knife to cut her bonds, only to remember that it's missing; Kensi at gunpoint and without her own firearm and thinking that her knife will be her saving grace but it's not there and a shot's fired— Possibly the worst one consumes his thoughts next. She's alone in the middle of the night and all of her guns have already been cleaned and she's stuck with idle, twitching hands because her knife is gone.

He knows her far too well.

Deeks rolls on his back because the guilt of seeing that knife keeps rippling through his system the more he looks at it. The sight of the ceiling fan overhead is a relief. Spinning, spinning, spinning...

She'll be back soon, he keeps trying to convince himself. He has plenty of faith in her ability to hold her own in a fight or undercover or just generally on mission but that doesn't stop the incessant worry from washing his mind of all common sense and causing him to drown in his unwarranted irrational fear for her safety.

He's totally, absolutely in love with Kensi Blye.

She'll come back, he knows. She'll come back to him and crawl in bed beside him at some ridiculous hour of the morning and whisper, "Miss me, moron?" And then they'd have glorious sex.

He rolls over to face the window and the empty half the bed again because he shouldn't be thinking about sex, he should be thinking about sleep but that realistically won't happen because his brain is hell-bent on Kensi and as much as he loves thinking about her and dreaming about her, he knows he can't rush this woman because her two instincts are entirely fight or flight.

A frozen lake is on his mind and this is how he's going to cross it: slowly. Separation can be a part of that. A painful, awful part, but it does equate to slow. Slow is good, isn't it? Deeks isn't sure if he likes this whole slow thing because, come on, she's supposed to be laying naked next to him right now, slow doesn't quite make up for that. He respects her and he appreciates her, but he's still so madly in love with her that he's not sure if being apart is a good idea when all he wants is her in his arms so he can drink in that sunshine and gunpowder smell and kiss her lovely waves of hair and tell her that she's amazing even if she doesn't want to hear it or doesn't care. Slow doesn't feel good right now. He wants to act fast, on impulse, and make sure she knows he's there, even if he can't communicate it properly.

He wants her back soon. He wants her back now.

So, in his half-lit room, he faces the ceiling fan again, spinning, spinning, spinning. Deeks watches it go round and round and hopes she'll be back soon. He knows he has to go slow with Kensi, but he also still wants to be able to see her and call her and maybe, at one point, get the guts to tell her that he loves her, but slow. Slow.

Spinning, spinning, spinning. Deeks sighs and fidgets while he resists the urge to get Monty up on the bed because the damn dog always makes him feel better but he's not even sure if he wants to feel better right now. As much as his mutt fills up the all the little emotionally neglected crevices of his heart, Monty can't fix the big part of his heart that's missing. No, not even his heart, his universe.

She's his partner, his best friend, his soulmate. Does he even believe in soulmates anymore? Deeks knows the whole concept sounds tacky, but he's fallen so hard for her that he doesn't even know what else to think. He liked her at first. Then he fell for her eyes, her laugh, her smile, her attitude, her quirks, her charm, and, finally, her beauty, and he knew it was probably the best mistake he ever made.

Smiling into the darkness, Deeks knows he has no regrets, no matter how pissed Hetty gets.

So he rolls over, feeling a bit more comfortable with himself and hoping that he'll get some sleep tonight at the thought of her smile. It's gotten him through much, much worse before. One night won't be so bad.

But then he can see the knife again. And after a moment's hesitation, he reaches out with tentative fingers and grabs the leather sheathe and pulls the weapon closer to him. Deeks pulls the blade out of the leather; it glints in the street lamp's sickly gold glow.

A knife separates things. Ropes, fabric, skin. They're only apart for now, separated by an ocean of who knows what red tape and lies and schemes that Hetty and Granger cooked up. Only apart for now. But when she gets back, she'll get her knife back and they won't be apart anymore and she'll be back in bed beside him so he can watch her sleep and feel her body against his and just know that she's safe and that she exists.

He puts the knife back in its sheathe and then, instead of placing it back on the nightstand, he slips it under his pillow and keeps one hand on it as he turns again to lie on his stomach. She'll be back.

A/N: Please leave some feedback.