DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Just borrowing the show like a library book.
STORY NOTES: Midseason five, Kensi alone. Short one shot.

"In a little while, I'll be thinkin' about you.
In a little while I'll still be here without you."
- Uncle Kracker "In a Little While"

February 1st
5:30PM AFT
NCIS Base Camp, Afghanistan

Kensi left the NCIS mobile truck for the picnic area out back. She was alone, which was good. Frank's birthday party was nice enough but she needed some air. There were just too many "toos" in the party - too many candles, too many people in too small a place with too little fresh air. Plus, too few of them were "her" people. Mostly, the feeling was mutual. At best, she was an interloper. At worst, well, when the grey wolf took out one of the camp dogs and was circling the picnic area, everyone looked to "Killer Kensi" to "do her thing." From the roof of Cheech - the two trucks making up the NCIS mobile unit were called Cheech and Chong - she shot the poor animal that, in a way, was only "doing his thing."

Since the stares from her temporary teammates ran the gamut from "wow, you are one hot babe with a gun" to "what kind of cold-blooded killer do we have among us," Kensi decided to find out how the wolf got to the picnic area. Carrying her M40, knives and Sig along with the unit's tool bag, she found and repaired a hole on the fence on the western side of the base.

While she repaired it, Granger made all the other agents search every inch of the base camp to make sure only a hungry wolf breached the property and make sure there was not a terrorist in hiding among them or explosives planted by local insurgents. Oh yeah, Granger had the tech analysts dispose of the wolf's carcass. That won her even more fans. Even the "hot babe with a gun" faction gave her the stink-eye when she returned.

She sat on the last picnic table top. It was closing in on dusk and after the wolf incident, she wasn't crazy about sitting alone and somewhat in the dark with her legs under the table.

Frank's birthday cake was a pineapple carrot cake, sent in by his Navy doctor wife. Vegan and gluten-free, Kensi was pretty sure it was the most taste-free cake she ever ate. It may have been a stretch to even call it cake. She thought back to the faux-birthday celebration she and Nell shared last summer. With Deeks was still recovering and Eric off on a long weekend for the Sterling Forest Ren Faire event in Tuxedo, New York, she and Nell went to Pie'n' Burger for their birthdays. Of course, neither one of them were celebrating a birthday but loneliness stinks and two burgers, two pieces of chocolate cake and splitting a piece of baked peach pie made that Friday seem to stink just a little less.

Today stunk more.

She was starting what she was sure was going to be her third full month away from home. Yes, home. The military brat who lived in base housing in nine states over the first fifteen years of her life found a real home in Los Angeles. She found a home, a career she loved, a long gone family member and more friends made in her eight years there than she made in the previous two decades of her life. So this early Saturday night, she was sitting alone in an oddly-lit picnic area over 7,500 miles away from all that.

She stopped herself from taking out her cellphone and looking at her camera roll more than once a day. It took nearly ten weeks but she began to realize it hurt more to look at the photos than it hurt just to miss the people in them. The people were in her memories, one in her heart. The life she missed was in the photos.

The pictures were reminders that Deeks was probably enjoying his last hour of sleep before he took his board and Monty to the beach where he'd "run into" Eric. That it was a few hour before Nell's Saturday meant the nitpicking something like the new Jack Ryan movie, a manicure, lunch and a stop at the Farmer's Market. A Saturday where Sam would be coaching Maya's basketball team or as he'd fake complain, "semi-organized kitten herding." Callen would do Callen things. And they'd all be doing their Saturday things, living their lives, without her.

Granger left for home today. "Recalled but I'll be back," he told her. He left her behind as she began to feel everyone was leaving her behind. Occasional Deeks selfies, some contraband from Nell - a bottle of Vertigo Chanel nail polish, a case of KitKats, a box set of the A Song of Fire and Ice paperbacks - were all proof she wasn't forgotten. She was just feeling lonely and sorry for herself. And she hated herself for both.

She wasn't alone. The selfies from Deeks were always the best part of any day when they arrived. And Nell, well nobody else but Nell knew but the Vertigo nail polish was the color she tried during their monthly pedicure the Saturday before she was sent here. The case of KitKats was missing one, probably replacing the "in case of emergency, snack" KitKat they hid in Ops late one night. The books had a note which she used as a bookmark that read "Dinner and two episodes every Tuesday until we're caught up with my DVDs."

Wanting to be her father's daughter, someone who could handle time away from all she loved and to do her best with dignity and honor, she promised herself she'd use this Granger-free time to come up with plans for life after this assignment. When Don Blye returned from a mission, he'd sign her out of school and they'd be off camping, or fishing or visiting amusement parks for a week. She didn't think Hetty would let her sign Deeks, Nell, Sam, Callen and Eric out of the office for a week of hanging out but she'd go to Maya's basketball games, she'd have Callen teach her some Russian. Tuesday was going to be "Game of Thrones" DVDs and take-out night with Nell. And maybe she'd go to a toy collectors show or a Ren Faire event with Eric. Even drag Deeks along with promises of mutton and mead.

Deeks…. they were going to figure it out and make it work. Like this assignment, failure wasn't an option with him. But tonight, she'd enjoy her time alone. She pulled out her book, A Feast of Crows, and started to read. She barely finished a chapter before she had company.

"Watching the stars?" Sabatino asked as he joined on the top of the picnic table. "Or I guess finding somewhere quiet to read?" He pointed to her book. "You know, I have the first three seasons on my iPad if you want to watch."

"No, I'm out here for some fresh air. Too many people in too small a space. And I'm enjoying the books. I'll watch the TV series when I'm done."

"Don't want seconds on the cake?"

"Firsts were enough."

"My old man owned and ran a bakery for fifty years and he'd call that thing we had a lot of things. Cake wouldn't be any of them," he joked. "The Snackwells in the mess taste better. The cardboard box that the Snackwells are in probably tastes better."

Kensi shrugged, not really interested. She started reading again.

They sat in the silence for a few minutes before Sabatino spoke. "I'm always amazed by the stars," he told her has he pointed to the sky. "I grew up in Queens. On a good night, you'd see maybe two stars in the sky. The city is always so lit-up, even at four in the morning. My high school ran overnight ski trips to Hunter Mountain every other weekend in the winter. Couldn't believe the difference in what you saw when there were no street lights."

"So you think we're doing this now?" she asked as she put her book down.

"Excuse me?"

Kensi sighed. "In the last two minutes I've learned you're a "Game of Thrones" fan, you grew up in Queens, your dad owned a bakery and you like to ski. l guess you think it's my turn to share only I'm not really all that interested."

"Hey, it's just with Granger gone I thought you'd like..."

"I'd like to find the White Ghost, get him to surrender, capture him or take him out if that's what's required. Then I'd like to get on a plane and go home. I have family and friends I'd like to see, open cases to work and a life I'd like to return to living."

"You don't think this is the life?" he joked, leaning back on his elbows.

"No, this is an assignment," she answered, still looking straight ahead. "Life is friends and family."

"Why do you think you wound up with this assignment?"

Kensi was happy with this line of questioning. Sabatino was the last suspect on her mole hunt. She spoke with everyone on her NCIS suspect list, setting up each person with a plausible lie to leak. When it was leaked, she'd uncover the mole and be half way home.

Granger vouched for Sabatino, Kensi wasn't so sure. Neither was Hetty. With Hetty's blessing, and without Granger's knowledge, she created a personalized bread crumb for the CIA Officer. Being able to incorporate it with his leadership role in the Sidorov task force was just an added bonus.

Turning to Sabatino, Kensi said, "Special Projects decided to keep this all in-house. Our experience with interdepartmental cooperation over the last eighteen months hasn't been productive."

"Makes sense after what happened to your predecessor here," Sabatino nodded before realizing the eighteen months goes back to the start of the Sidorov case. "Oh, I see."

"Glad we're clear," Kensi returned to looking at the horizon.

"We were working our asses off to find Sidorov. He killed Snyder."

"You know who else he killed? A college professor and a couple of his students in northern Mexico. Or at least we think they were killed. Dr. Hector Lopez and three of his students were going to the Chihuahuan Desert to survey the minerals there. They never found any remains, just the professor's SUV with the students' text books in an area that will likely be uninhabitable by any known life form for five hundred years."

"It sounds cold but wrong place, wrong time."

"The right place being a cushy desk job in DC right?" Kensi turned again to look at him. "Tell me, were you too busy with team building seminars for the task force to detail someone's ass out to the desert and acknowledge that a nuclear bomb was detonated by the subject of your task force? Or were you looking for new task force business cards and special task force stationery? Maybe windbreakers with your names embroidered on them?"

"Michelle had it covered. The CIA was making sure..."

"The CIA was sitting on its ass. EMS in LA was more useful to the operation than anyone at your agency except Michelle."

"Look, I'm sure you're upset you partner was hurt..."

Kensi wanted to strangle him but kept it together. "My partner was hurt. Sam Hanna was hurt. Michelle was hurt. A maintenance man in a shopping mall was killed."

"The janitor is on your agency. Who thought trusting Janvier was a good idea?"

"Kelvin Atley," Kensi sneered. "He was NSA but started as CIA, so trained as one of yours, right?"

"The nukes were recovered and NCIS got all the credit. Sidorov is dead, his organization shut down. Janvier is in Super Max Florence, 23 hours a day in his cell. I'm sorry about surfer boy, Sam and Michelle but things go sideways all the time."

"Yeah, just ask Snyder." Kensi was pretty sure she heard him mutter 'bitch" and she took that as a win. She turned back to the horizon, the stars filling the moonless sky.

"How is surfer boy?" Sabatino asked.

"Deeks. Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD."

"I read the after action report on Deeks, Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD. That was brutal."

"It was."

"Granger mentioned he was back working with you before you were sent here."

"Yes, he was. Still is, working I mean."

"So he's OK."

She was not giving the man tasked with finding Sidorov the satisfaction of hearing any difficulty last spring caused Deeks, Sam or the team. "He's fine. Back at work. Our last case together, he ran one hell of a sting."

"I guess I underestimated him. He didn't seem like all that much in the few dealings I've had with him."

"Yeah, well, that's why he's the best at what he does."

"Huh?"

She turned to look back at him. "He fooled you. 'Didn't seem like all that much,'" Kensi imitated Sabatino. Returning to her own voice she asked, "What have you heard about Hetty Lange?"

"Everyone here is in mixed awe and terrified of her, of your OSP unit, in some ways, of you," Sabatino said, twisting the knife a little whether he knew it or not.

"That gives her the ability to recruit from any agency, any police department, any arm of the military in the country."

"So?"

"She recruited Deeks. Recruited the hell out of him. Chased him down to a dive bar in Hollywood to close the deal."

"Again, so?"

"So, maybe the greatest trick Deeks pulls off every day is making sure outsiders think he doesn't seem like much, to use your standard of judgment," she said with a smile.

"So what's he doing without you?"

"Handling our cases, I'm sure. He worked alone at LAPD for years, he can handle things solo. Also probably taking on new assignments but I'm not sure. I'm out of the loop on everything since I'm technically not here."

"Yeah, I don't get that."

"I told you, NCIS isn't relying on any agency intelligence that we can't confirm independently. That's why I've been here for months. I'm confirming what comes in from outside agencies and waiting for 'a go' from a more trusted source," Kensi now planted the lie. As the sniper on this assignment, she had final say. She wasn't waiting for any 'go.' If Sabatino was the mole, the White Ghost would now have a fake playbook.

Sabatino seemed genuinely offended. "You know, we all are on the same side."

"Tell that to Brent Bolton."

"That was an accident."

"You know my partner, the one who doesn't seem like much, he has a theory on that."

"Can't wait to hear this," Sabatino said with an eye roll.

"It was an accident. Like all the times his mom accidentally walked into opened cabinet doors or fell on the stairs of their home. Amazing how clumsy and unlucky some people are," Kensi told him. "Especially around you."

"Because, of course, your partner has an unbiased opinion of me," Sabatino said in a disgusted tone.

"Oh no, he's very biased. We worked two cases with you and a civilian defense analyst and your CIA partner are dead. Deeks is not a big believer in coincidences."

"Well, when you see him, you can tell him I hit the trifecta. I knew your predecessor on this assignment."

"Chief Petty Officer Daniels," Kensi stated his name out of respect for the man and his rank.

"Brian Daniels's wife is the former Stefiana Sabatino."

"Sister?" A wave of sympathy washed over Kensi.

"First cousin. My dad ran the bakery, uncle Dom was actually the baker. Our two families lived in the two floors over the bakery. Brian wasn't just your predecessor or a Chief Petty Officer, he was family. And if you don't kill the son-of-a bitch who beheaded him, I will. I'm far less interested in surrender or capture."

"Does the CIA know that?"

"They know. I volunteered for this. So you can keep casting me as the villain in all our dealings. You've certainly made your unhappiness with this assignment is crystal clear. I'm unhappy about it too but for totally different reasons. Like you, I have a job to do. Unlike you, I'm invested in what's going to happen here and not what's coming up - going home and telling Stef, who I love like a sister, that her husband has been dead for months and there won't be a body for a wake, just one for the funeral."

"Look," Kensi started to apologize.

"No, I get it. You're here to do your job and go home to Los Angeles. You got your surfer boy - you two weren't fooling anyone last year, by the way – and your fabulous life. But I'm here for Brian. And for the record and for the last time, Brent Bolton came at me with a gun because he thought his wife was screwing around with me. I never laid a hand on her. I never laid a hand on him until he pulled the gun. I grabbed the gun, it fell on the step and because the poor schmuck didn't have the safety on, it fired. He was dead before he hit the ground. I didn't kill him. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your book and stargazing. Maybe I'll go back to my bunk and try to cheer myself up. A rewatch of Red Wedding, that will no doubt put me in a better mood than trying to talking to you." Sabatino nearly jumped off the table before making his way back inside.

Kensi sighed and looked up at the stars. She chuckled, thinking about a link to a reality TV YouTube montage Deeks sent her about two years ago. Just like everyone else in the video, she wasn't here to make friends. Unlike all the contestants in the video, she didn't want to stay. She wanted to perform her challenge and go home.

If Sabatino wasn't the mole, she'd apologize when the mole was found. She'd also tell him that she was sorry for what his cousin was going to suffer. Better than anyone, she knew how a person's world ended when the chaplain and the casualty affairs officer were at the door.

She took out her book and read a few more pages. The lights around the table threw off a soft light, unlike the harsh fluorescents throughout Cheech and Chong. But the temperatures were falling and the fresh air was turning into cold air. She finished her chapter and started back to the truck.

When she was about five feet away, the door opened and Jerrel Jackson popped out. "Hey, Kensi. Didn't know you were out here. The party just broke up - plenty of cake left, if you can believe it." Jerrel let out a loud laugh. He was the sole bright spot in this barren place - big man, big smile, bigger heart and the best laugh in-country.

Kensi couldn't help but smile. "I had a piece."

"The sole of my shoe has more flavor. I know that eating healthy food like that you're supposed to live longer. But seriously, who wants to live longer if that's your birthday treat? Don't worry though, the next party will be better."

"Whose birthday is next?" Kensi started dreading the next show of forced festiveness.

"No birthday, I got my transfer. Rota, here I come."

"Oh good for you," Kensi struggled not to be disappointed. Everyone really was leaving but her. "When do you decamp, so to speak?"

"De-parting from de-camp a week from Monday. My sister is married to a Navy pilot who flies out of the base there. I'm going to have family nearby, which is amazing. The best part, my brother-in-law is flying in this week's supplies so she's sneaking me a tub of snickerdoodles. My sister will probably make two hundred tasty treats."

"I'm happy for you. Did this come out of the blue or did you put in for the transfer?" Kensi asked. And can you take me with you?

"Put in for a transfer about six months ago. I've been here since October 2012. It's time to move on. I could do with some warm weather, some access to the ocean and a beach full of beautiful women in my off-time." He smiled and quickly added, "Not that you're not a beautiful woman or anything."

"Thank you, Jerrel," Kensi smiled. "I missed the warm weather and the ocean, myself." And someone who was probably driving there right now, she thought.

"But there will be snickerdoodles for my party, so we got that going for us, right." Jerrel started laughing. "Do you know when Granger will be back? I'd hate for him to miss some delicious smackerels," Jerrel told her, not meaning a single word.

"I don't know. He did say he'd be back but if my history with him means anything, he'll be back just in time to be the life of the party. Or maybe he's the afterlife of the party," Kensi snorted and laughed.

"You're funny," Jerrel chuckled.

"Yeah, I know someone who'd tell you I'm comedy gold," Kensi thought Deeks and Jerrel would be fast friends.

"Listen, you've been living the spartan life here, when I get to Rota I can ship..."

"No, I'm not here, remember? Everything that comes to me goes through the Intelligence Analyst at OSP and Assistant Director Life of the Party so, thanks so much for the offer but I can't," Kensi just shook his head. She had only spoken to Hetty twice and Deeks once to maintain operational integrity. Treats from Jerrel were out of the question.

"When you're done, fly home through Rota. We'll have dinner and really talk about your time here," Jerrel said sincerely.

"I may do that," Kensi told him but only if you can have my team waiting for me. "Well, Granger left me a bunch of new Hawala accounting books to go through. Wouldn't want him coming back and not having my homework done." That was her mole story to him - sniper by day, forensic accounting whiz by night. Since Jerrel was about the only happy thing she had going for her here - and she'd only have that for another eight days - if he was the mole, she might go home, find Deeks and spend the next year surfing. "It's getting cold, don't stay out too long."

"Just want to check on the new dog and fire up a Padron."

"Does he have a name yet?" Kensi asked as she started climbing the truck stairs. "The new dog just sounds so generic."

"Booker wants to name him Max. Since Booker wants to name him Max, nobody else does. You're not officially here but any suggestions?" Jerrel sat up on a table top and took out his cigar.

"Max is only slightly less generic than the new dog. Every third dog back home is Max."

"That's what everyone is telling Booker so we're trying to come up with a better name."

Bringing a little home here, she suggested "Monty."

Jerrel lit his cigar, contemplating the name. "Monty? I like that. I'll sell the others on that. Of course, I'll be taking credit since you're not here. It will be my parting gift to everyone - one-upping Booker."

Kensi smiled as she opened the door. "Credit is all yours, Jerrel. And it's a great name for a dog."

-30-

Odious author's notes:

Companion piece for "Every Day I Write The Book" with sort of a test drive of the Kensi POV (not something I've ever been comfortable with). Thanks, as always, for reading.