Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing – and the greatest thanks to stick around till the bitter end. I hoped you enjoyed your stay in my mad world!

It's done! This story is not left unfinished, yippie!

Read, review, and hopefully enjoy ;)

Half a year later

Kensi walks through Deeks' apartment, sipping the freshly brewed coffee. God, does she love that brown beverage. And as much as she hates to admit, Deeks makes the better coffee, so one more reason to spend the mornings over at his apartment. And especially during a lazy Saturday where they don't have to be at work for once, the bitter coffee tastes so much sweeter. Kensi chuckles to herself as she goes to the mailbox to take out today's mail. She routinely closes the door with the heel of her foot and motions back to the kitchen counter, already skimming through the envelopes and papers.

Bills, more bills… advertisements… this dog magazine Deeks insists on… oh. Kensi tilts her head at one envelope. She picks it up with a smile. Kensi means to yell Deeks' name to come here, but that is when suddenly a small melody fills the apartment, roaming around like the scent of coffee, warm, comforting, welcoming, a piece of home in the air. Her smile only broadens, so Kensi takes up her mug and crosses over to the bedroom, where Deeks stands next to the bed, leaning on the violin with eyes closed, perfectly absorbed into the tunes' magical world, wherever that may be for now. She leans against the doorframe, taking another sip from her coffee.

Deeks eventually finishes the piece, opening his eyes lazily, just to frown at Kensi, "Oh, how long have you been standing there?"

"Just a while," she shrugs. "I was enchanted by that sudden music."

He grins at her.

"I thought you said you wanted to keep it only for decoration," she waggles her eyebrows at him.

"I actually intended to," he admits.

"What made you change your mind?" Kensi asks, stepping closer.

"I don't know… I just… I felt like it," Deeks tells her.

"What did you play?" she asks.

"Sarabande," he replies, making her look at him with wide eyes, "I thought you hated that piece… for reasons."

"And I did, but… I… don't now," he smiles. Deeks was honestly surprised himself when he woke up to the sound of Sarabande inside his head again, but didn't feel frightened anymore. His heart didn't skip a beat, he didn't find those imagines back in his head, didn't smell the broken glass or the scent of the baseball bat, of his own blood. If anything, his fingers twitched in anticipation, in need for the familiar sensation of strings against his fingertips, his ears longing for the vibration, the resonance of just that tune.

Perhaps it is because he finally spoke out loud what hindered him all this time, said what he kept hidden inside of him for many years.

Secret codes, or so he learned, are very curious things after all.

He thought he knew everything about them by now, but in fact… Deeks still learns something new about them every single day. Miles surely made a case in point when he told him, the know-it-all bastard. He really misses him.

Just as Deeks had to find out that the secret code can be changed, by speaking out the words left unspoken, or in his case, to also play the tunes he tried not to play.

"It's a beautiful piece," Kensi smiles, her voice tender.

"I know. It really used to be my favorite," Deeks agrees.

"Maybe it can grow to be again?" she suggests.

"I would like that," Deeks chuckles. He presses a chaste kiss on her lips, tasting coffee, but as he pulls away, he has to tilt his head, "What's in that envelope? No bills, hopefully?"

"Those are on the kitchen counter," Kensi grins. "This is a mail for you, from Italy."

She hands him the envelope, while taking the violin and the bow out of his hand. Deeks, full of excitement, starts to rip open the paper.

"What does Adrian say?" Kensi asks with a soft smile. Deeks skims through the pages, "He made it!"

"Oh, that's great," Kensi grins.

"He seems to be really good…," Deeks grins, continuing to read.

Hi Marty,

As promised, I actually bother to hold up contact with you, no matter how much of a jerk you can be at times.

So, here I go with something totally outdated, but I find it better than talking over the telephone. I still have no clue how that stupid smartphone works.

Anyways, I actually managed to convince people during my audition. Curious enough, no one ever said to me that I lacked passion or anything. So… you get to tell me that you told me so and that my old orchestra is… nuts, let's face it. Clap yourself on the shoulder for it, but don't get too much ahead of yourself. That could have been a lucky guess just as well.

I was not made first violin upon first try, obviously, but… honestly? I didn't mind, especially since I now am. I just worked hard and… enjoyed the music. That seemingly did the trick. So you were also right when you told me that I have to stop competing. The moment I just did my thing… they liked it. And… honestly? I like it a lot more myself. I think I play the best I have ever played, and that is thanks to you.

I am still learning the language, but it's getting better. Only yesterday I managed to order the right dish in a restaurant, without pointing at the menu. So yes, you can be so proud of me for learning that fast. You are music dyslexic, I'm language dyslexic, so we actually do have something in common, even if it's just about sucking in those certain aspects of our lives.

I hope you give me credit for that I did something I normally don't, and that is to first of all take pictures, and then to actually send them out. But you asked for a bit of Italian flair… and… I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone, which is why I enclosed those pics.

By the way, if you laugh at my new haircut only just once, just keep in mind that you look like blond Raggedy Ann for the rest of your days.

The guy on the second photo is Christian. He is from Britain, but lives here for half his life already. He plays the piano, but (should I say gladly?) he doesn't play in an orchestra. He plays in a small café not far from the music hall. It's nice not to compete for once, and tell you what? He's really good, and that even though I am still more for violins. I'm happy with him. Maybe it works out for once. He is not married, he is openly homosexual, so I hope that maybe this works better for me.

I think you are right. Mike wouldn't want me unhappy, so I try to be… happy, instead.

So yeah, my life's actually… pretty damn good right now.

And that is thanks to you. Despite you being an annoying jerk most of your time.

But… thank you another time.

Thank you for believing in me and… giving me a chance to hope.

I hope you're doing well yourself. I plan on coming back to the US next year.

You still owe me the duet – because you are the only one other than Mike who can play Mars the way it should be.

Until then… I hope you don't get yourself into trouble… and that you stick to the violin.

You told me that if I stopped playing, it'd be a waste of talent.

I want to give that compliment back to you.

You may not be as great as me, but… you feel the music.

And that is something very, very special.

Wow, that was corny.

Anyways, I gotta head back to practice. Our conductor is a slave-driver, but he is okay.

Better than Smith anyways.

I wish you and the pretty secretary all the best.

I'm looking forward to seeing you again,

Adrian

P.S.: I still have a copy of the recording from our training session when I taught you my signature trick not to speed up. You don't suck. It's really great.

Keep that up.

"He's really good," Deeks smiles happily.

"Is that his new partner?" Kensi asks as Deeks hands her the pictures.

"Yeah," the detective nods.

"They look very happy," Kensi smiles.

"I think he is," Deeks nods. "I think he really is."

"And you?" Kensi chuckles. Deeks grins as he grabs the violin from her again and brings it up to his chin, "I… am the happiest man… in L.A., let's say, for I have you."

She smiles sweetly as she sits down on the bed.

"What would Milady like to hear?" Deeks grins.

"Whatever you want," she replies. The detective contemplates for a second, but then brings the bow down on the strings and starts to play simply what comes to his mind.

He is up to making some new secret codes.

He wants to write the music piece bearing his name as a title.

And he wants it to be good, very good.