TO HURT THE ONE YOU LOVE

Summary : Sometimes, keeping the one you love safe, means hurting them. Sometimes, to hurt the one you love is your only option.

Disclaimer : NCIS : LA and any/all recognizable trademarks belong to their rightfully acknowledged owners.

To Hurt The One You Love

Prologue : Born Operator

Kensi's P.O.V

"Hey, Kenz?"

"Hmm?"

"Love you."

I swallow hard at this, holding the phone away from me so that he won't notice this awkward pause. I hold back tears and bite hard on my trembling bottom lip. Then I slowly lift the phone back to me and push out this half-truth that I'm not so sure of anymore.

"Love you too."

I can hear his smile as he disconnects the call. Abandoning my phone on the kitchen table along with my cup of coffee, which just minutes ago was incredibly tempting, I drag my appetite-less body back into the bathroom, where I had been prepared to take a shower before planning my evening.

I draw myself a bath and keep busy while waiting for the tub to fill, knowing all along that this is a bad idea. To sit in a bath for a long period of time will inevitably lead to a wandering mind, and that is the worst thing that can happen right now. And yet, I push forward relentlessly.

I prepare a fluffy terrycloth robe and twist my hair into a high bun. I force myself to chug down a few sips of coffee and keep my phone on a shelf next to the sink, just incase. I procrastinate and move slowly; finding faults with my spotless home just to put off thinking about my current situation.

Finally, the tub is overflowing with warm water and a soothing scent of lavender, and I force myself to stop trying so hard to avoid this. I close the door behind, slip out of the robe and hang it up, secure my bun and finally, draw a shaky breath.

Then I slip into the water and shut my eyes, letting my mind torture me by going in circles over and over again.

When you're in water, there's just something that soothes you; lowers all your inhibitions, your walls. I've always thought it's because the water reminds your body of your mother's womb, giving you that sense of innocent safety.

But now, even that can't keep away my painful, dark thoughts which threaten to pull me under, to drown me in my sorrow.

Maybe I'll let them.

They call me a born operator. He calls me a born operator.

And in certain ways, I guess I am. The one skill you need to be as good at our job as I am, as he is, is lying. You need to be effortless, a true liar.

I was born to lie.

Half-truths come to me as easily as the alphabet; I spin intricate lies without so much as a second thought. I never feel guilty for any of my lies; I don't even have to justify them.

The ends justify the means, and all that.

People in our line of work envy my effortless lying, my smooth talent at covering up the truth and easing others into a false reality. They think it's a talent, a calling. Something like a photographic memory – deeply desirable, though you won't really understand it until you have it.

To be a born operator is both a blessing, and a curse.

You see, to be born to lie, you have to have a sixth sense of sorts.

If you're born to lie, then you're also born to detect lies.

And when the truth is constantly shoved in your face; when you can't even protect your own mind from the cold, hard reality that is life – that's when it hurts.

I'm not sure if all marriage vows include promises of truth and no deception, but I'm pretty sure ours did. I'm not sure if everyone sticks to their wedding vows, but up until now, I'm pretty sure our marriage was going just fine, governed by our improvised vows to each other.

People laugh when they hear of our vows. Who makes up vows right there and then when the priest is asking for them?

We did. And I stand by it.

Those vows, they were from the heart. They were true and sincere and didn't involve promises we couldn't keep. They protected us from the harsh nature of our job; they kept us together for years.

Those vows changed our lives, kept us happy, a foreign concept to either of us up until that very moment. Those vows saved our lives so many times – the vow to protect each other, no matter what. To give up everything for the other, if we had to.

Some people are bound by their wedding vows. Ours were bound to us; personalized and unique, something no other couple could ever use.

Those vows – our vows –are sacred.

Right now, I don't know what he's doing; I don't know who he's with.

But I have to trust him, because that's what I promised in my vows.

It's just too bad he didn't keep his vow of ever-lasting, all-encompassing love to me.

He's lying, and that is enough to make me reconsider everything.

So…how do you guys like it so far?

First attempt at an NCIS : LA fic, and I really hope this will be good. It might sound a little obscure right now, but don't worry, you guys will catch on quickly.

If all goes according to plan ( a plan I drew up while finishing up my Bio paper; heavy semester, don't ask), there will be a prologue, 8 chapters and an epilogue to this story.

Unfortunately, I have a tendency to go off-course when it comes to plans.

I should probably stop now and go write a new chapter of Baby Sister.

Yeah, I think I'll do that.

Please review or PM me if there's anything, or if you'd like to.

E Salvatore,

March 2011.