She shows the letter to Gibbs. She explains everything. She waits for him to tell her it's wishful thinking.

But he doesn't.

Gibbs calls her into Abby's lab where he's set up a call with Hetty. "I told her what you said about the letter," he says. "I didn't tell anyone else."

"You think there's a mole?" Kensi adjusts her sling so Prairie stays asleep. "I mean, we're assuming someone seized the opportunity, not that the serial killer was a set-up, too?"

"Someone saw a chance to grab Mr. Deeks," Hetty says. "I'm sure of it. They must have already been watching him. And yes, there must be a mole or more than one in NCIS involved if they were watching him that closely." The background behind Hetty isn't the office or ops, so Kensi has no idea where she is.

"I don't know how the dna test comes back wrong otherwise," Gibbs says. "I checked with Abby."

Hetty says, "And you had Miss Sciuto see what she could find on the letter?"

"Mailed from somewhere in Nebraska," Gibbs says. "That's all. She thinks it's related to another case."

"Nebraska?" Kensi can't imagine Deeks in the midwest. Prairie wakes up, looks around, and falls back asleep.

"Nebraska," Hetty says. "It's a start."

They make plans. It feels so concrete. If Gibbs and Hetty agree that Marty is out there somewhere, then he really must be. Kensi is sure there is no way this doesn't end with Marty back.

XXXX

The flight home to California leaves very very early in the morning. Monty is more cooperative about it than Prairie. Kensi swears at one point Monty gives the baby a look like, "oh, COME ON." It makes her laugh as they sit down. Monty arranges himself at her feet like he's showing off how well behaved he can be. Prairie is still fussing and irritated. "How about some breakfast, baby, how about that," she says, getting everything arranged, grabbing the pillow for Prairie, and then opening her shirt.

She watches Prairie suck. Her eyes are still blue like Marty's, though everyone tells Kensi they could still change. Maybe the baby has Kensi's eye shape, though. Kensi thinks she's spending so much time figuring which feature came from whom, sometimes she doesn't even see the baby. "Do you think that," she whispers. "Sorry, Bug. I think you're perfect."

The flight attendant walks by and smiles at them. She leans in and says, "How old is she?"

"14 weeks," Kensi says. She feels proud, but she's pretty sure it's not actually her accomplishment.

"So much hair," the woman says as she slides around the passengers boarding.

"Everyone told me it would all fall out, but it's hanging on," Kensi says. She thinks, all that hair is from both of us, Muffin. She says, "Sorry, I know the rules," to Prairie, who is ignoring her. "Sugarmuffin."

She's in the front row, nursing her baby, with her dog at her feet, so, of course, everyone who boards is staring at her as they get on. Most of them quickly look away and push on past, a few give her a warm smile, but Kensi gets progressively more irritated at the adults who look and are clearly grossed out. She remembers the taxi cab driver the night Deeks proposed and smiles. "I won't do anything," she says to Prairie. "You don't have your dad's skills at improv yet."

She needs to appear like she's still mourning, still a mess. Which is not that hard, she thinks. And it would probably make sense to any observer that having a baby would start the getting over it process. "If I hadn't had you," she said quietly to Prairie. She thinks, if she hadn't had Prairie, she wouldn't have been there for the letter. She would have curled into a ball and never came out. Or thrown herself on top of a bomb or in front of a bullet.

So I will get him back for both of us, she thinks. Prairie gurgles and looks up at her, like she's saying, so get on that now, Mommy.

THE END.