I feel the bullet coming in contact with my neck and I know I'm pretty much screwed. I'm not naïve enough to think I can make through such a hit and I'm okay with that. After all, when we get up in the morning, we all have to accept that this might be our last day on Earth. It's a truth we all deal with because it comes with the job.

I know it sounds messed up to say I'm ready to die. I'm not. No one ever is. But I can deal with that.

What I can't deal with, however, is the look on Kensi's face. I can't stand the thought that, by the end of this day, I'm going to be another name on her list. I'm going to be another person who left her.

I would say it kills me to know that but it sounds too ironic. Time seems to slow down as I lie on the floor, her hands on my neck. I know what she's trying to do. She's trying to save me.

And I appreciate it but I know I'm not going to make it, no matter how fast they take me to the hospital. I know a way-too-big stain of blood when I see one and I'm pretty sure there is too much blood currently covering the area around my neck.

I promised her I would never leave but we both knew, to some extent, that it was an unrealistic promise. I couldn't promise her I wouldn't die on the job, just like she can't promise that to anyone.

The pain on my neck is starting to fade and I know that's a bad sign. I'm going to cross to the other side, if there is such a thing. I was never one to believe in any of those things but it kind of comforts me at the moment.

I can almost hear my mother yelling at me and saying that it takes a death-experience to make me have some faith. She will be so mad when she finds out what I really do for a living. I know Hetty will tell her what I did. As far as my mother is concerned, I have a desk job at a federal agency, nothing that requires a lot of danger. When I have to go undercover, I tell her I'm on a business trip. So far, it worked.

But I'm sure she will want to know how I died.

There's not much I can do now. I can see Deeks grabbing Kensi and ripping her away from me as the paramedics get there. There are tears on her face and blood on her hands. God, that's too much blood. Those are too many tears.

I don't want her to cry. I don't want her to hurt. I don't want to be another person who ends up leaving her.

That's why I fight with everything I have to remain alive, even if I have to fight for my every breath. At least, if I die, no one will be able to say I went down without a fight.

I will fight to keep the promise I made to her. I have to. She's my little sister.

I have to fight.