12. "Above all, be the heroine of your life." - Nora Ephron

"But a formal introduction is due. My name is Gerard Irons, onetime farm boy, Templar Knight during the Third Crusade, professional party boy and son of Kenneth Irons," Gerard said, bowing slightly.

Deeks remembered the conversation in Sara Pezzini's living room. "Aren't you supposed to be drunk in Rio?" he asked.

"Yes I am," Gerard said with a smile. "And I have every intention of returning to those arduous duties but I had business here and business that looks very done." Gerard looked at what was now a fleshless skeleton that was once Kenneth Irons.

"He was trying to kill Deeks," Kensi started to explain.

"I know, I was watching," Gerard lifted his hand and slowly put it in his coat pocket. "The new iPhone 6S is amazing. It was like I was in the room with you."

"You watched?" Kensi asked.

"Of course. Pops here always believed the Witchblade could kill him. I'm sure some part of the smug son of a bitch is proud he was right once again. Of course, that part is now desiccated dust on the floor. And for the record, I really mean you no harm and will work diligently to do nothing to anger or annoy you. I really don't want to be on the money end of the Witchblade."

"Is that why you snuck me in the building?"

"Certainly part of the reason. You're not a person I want particularly annoyed at me. And under no circumstances do I want to wind up like that," Gerard pointed to now a big pile of dust. "Daddy-O may have been able to put his head back on after losing it but he ain't bouncing back from that."

"Why not" Kensi asked.

Walking to the body, Gerard explained, "The old man was magic. I'm magic. Your bracelet is magic. For future reference, if you're going to kill anything that's magic, run the Witchblade through its heart. Magic begins and ends in the heart. Kill the heart, kill the magic."

"Good to know," Kensi mumbled.

Gerard was humming as he looked at his father's remains. It took Deeks a second to realize the song was "Dust in the Wind." "You don't seem terribly bothered by your father's death," Deeks noted.

"Oh God, no. Terrible person. Shitty father, pardon my language Kensi. Evil and controlling. This was the only way you two were going to get him out of your life. He had very particular plans for you, Detective Deeks. Do you like to be called Marty? I know you're Kensi," Gerard said as walked over to the a table with a brandy snifter and some glasses. After pouring himself a healthy glass, he sat on a couch in the corner of the library. "The old man liked the full formal name - probably thought it made him sound important. Made him sound like a self-important dick - which he was."

"Plans for me? And Deeks is fine."

"Deeks it is. You can call me Gerard because at 850-years old, Gerry just seems like a really childish name. Now what we were talking about?" Gerard asked.

"Plans for me," Deeks answered.

"Oh yes, plans for you, Deeks. Once Kensi agreed tonight to be a good little Witchblader for Kenneth the Horrendous to guarantee your freedom and safety, he actually was going to let the two of you leave. In a day or two, Deeks would be in some sort of terrible mishap - the thug you have handcuffed in the bathroom is very good at making intentional attacks look like accidents. The plan was to leave you crippled. Good Sir Kenneth would swoop in, offering his wealth and influence to have Deeks put in some care facility that only a man of his means could afford. Since you are the Consort, you'd remain alive – though I'm guessing you'd be unable to do anything except wear a diaper, be fed three times a day and wait to die - but your care would be in Poppy's total control. And with that, so would you, Kensi."

Deeks shook his head. Kensi felt sick.

"Maybe you didn't notice this right away," Gerard said after taking a sip of his brandy, "Mr. Kenneth was a prick."

"And what are your plans?" Kensi asked.

"Besides being drunk in Rio." Deeks added.

"Something I am very interested in returning to but first, someone is going to have to cover up the dusting you gave my father," Gerard laughed at his own joke. "And I can do that."

"What do you mean by that?" Kensi asked, worrying if she's moved from possibly being controlled by the father to being indebted to the son.

"I know people. People who have been waiting for this moment for decades."

"I'm still going to need more that that," Kensi told him.

Chuckling, Gerard explained, "Years ago, with the help of some people in the know, I set up an identity for Gerard Irons, son of Kenneth Irons in whatever international CEO mogul incarnation he had publicly."

"But that's who you are."

"Quite correct Deeks. But oddly, the record of my birth in 1165 doesn't really pass muster here. No, an ID was created decades ago of Gerard Irons, secret love child of Kenneth Irons just in case the old, old, old man got what he so richly deserved. After I clean up his death here and get the news out to the media, the world meets Gerard Irons, recent MBA graduate and heir to his vast fortune."

"Won't that cut into your drunk time?" Deeks asked.

"Probably. But we'll work something out."

"We?" Kensi started to wonder how many people really knew about the Irons and maybe the Witchblade.

"We. What did Sara tell you about me?"

"Who?" Kensi and Deeks said simultaneously.

"Sara Pezzini. Former NYPD, current stay-at-home mom living on Catalina Island," Gerard sighed. "I was Gabriel. I set up her entire false legend, helped Ian buy the house and hid his money to protect Sara and their daughter."

"But you mourned her to Nell," Kensi said.

"Of course I did, Kensi. She was my friend and she was moving away for her safety. I couldn't contact her again and I spent nearly a decade with a great friend. That usually doesn't happen to me." There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Once Sara was 'dead', Pap figured out I was Gabriel. I had to start publicly mourning her. Nell Jones was always such a sweetheart and she was in town. She also worked for a government agency that had a good reputation and people Oldie McOldGuy wouldn't want to mess with. I got to play the grieving boyfriend."

"Nell thought you had a crush on Sara," Deeks said.

"I adored her. First, she was smart. After all these years, I've realized there is nothing more beautiful than an intelligent woman. Second, she was – still is actually - beautiful physically. And that voice - I'm a sucker for women with a husky voice. And brunettes. Love brunettes. Sara was the whole package."

"She didn't know who you were?"

"No. I was in New York for some other business at the time. Computer boy Gabriel was a fun legend."

"Legend?" Kensi asked. "How much of what Sara told us about Gerard was a legend?"

"Some. A lot of it is true. I do like to drink and party and I'm very good at it. It isn't like I have to worry about blowing out my liver or alcohol poisoning. I use to smoke too but here in America you've all become such anti-smoking crusaders - no pun intended with that coming from me - that I just decided to quit."

"So what's true?" Deeks wondered.

"What did Sara tell you? Oh, let me guess, always on siding with the loser in every war."

"That came up," Deeks said.

Gerard gave an exaggerated sigh. "No, no, no. I've been fighting wars for over 800 years. You're going to pick the wrong side every now and again. Add in personal biases, too. Being almost immortal doesn't mean I can see the future."

"Personal biases?" Kensi lifted an eyebrow.

"I hate the French," Gerard said with real malice. "Most British men of my age, and really the generations that came after men my age, don't like the French. They're usually fun people to fight wars against. But then they get cozy with you plucky Americans and suddenly I'm on the wrong side of things starting with the Revolutionary War."

"Is that's why you were a Nazi?" Kensi asked, remembering what she knew about his Gerhardt persona.

"I wasn't a Nazi. Well I was but I was a spy for the U.S. pretending to be a Nazi. Big difference," Gerard sighed. "I hung with the Germans in WWI. Again, hate the French but the Americans showed up and I really do like you Americans. You're a spunky bunch. Not always on the right side of things but you try to be. After eight and a half centuries on this planet, you can't imagine how rare that is."

"You were an S.S. Officer," Kensi remembered the stories of Elizabeth.

"I was. Gerhardt Altenhofen was a well-respected member of the S.S., an insider who was at the table whenever decisions were being made. And while I was in France, I dated a beautiful American living in Paris. Elizabeth was a spitfire and I mean that with all the respect in the world. We'd trade secrets between kisses. It was one of my favorite relationships."

Kensi found herself smiling. Gerard was charming. "And you gave her the Witchblade."

"I did, though the Nazis never knew. To save Vorschlag's interests in Europe, the putrid patriarch over there had to prove his loyalty to Hitler. Hitler was into magic - "Raiders of the Lost Ark" was more true to life than you'd think. The Fuhrer knew about the Witchblade and Cunning Kenny thought he could do his own version of Lend and Lease with it. When it didn't work on several master race women Hitler thought were worthy to wield it, he decided to keep it until he found a wielder. Then I stole it."

"From Hitler?" Deeks was skeptical.

"No, from his collection. The Germans had boxes of magical crap, emphasis being on crap. The magical equivalent of rabbit's foots, or is that feet?" Gerard thought about it for a second but waved his hand. "I'd seen the Witchblade over the years. Whatever attractive woman the elderly elder had on his arm from the late 1800's on usually wore it. Saw a woman named Josephine Valmont wearing it in Paris. Maybe one of the ten most beautiful women I've seen over my life. And I've seen lots of good-looking women. My pere over there was her lover. We had dinner one night at a fancy Parisian restaurant. We'd meet every decade or so if things were going well between us. As we were leaving the place, he paid some locals to attack us. It was crummy Kenny's way to show me the power of the Witchblade."

"He paid to have you and his lover attacked?" Deeks asked.

"Did you forget that he's a terrible person? Because that needs to inform everything you think you know about him. And, to tell you the truth, he paid those men to be skewered as human shish kabobs. They never had a chance."

"Josephine was good controlling the Witchblade."

"You're the first woman I've ever seen with any real control of the Witchblade, Kensi. I watched you fight. And that will serve you so well. But the beautiful Josephine was graceful movement personified." Gerard seemed lost in a memory. "A few years later, Josephine behaved in a way that offended the great and mighty Kenneth. Josephine was what the kids today call biracial and here's s shocker, old Ken was a racist. Josephine was a beautiful toy for him to play with but when she started having her own ideas, he killed her and moved on."

"He could kill the women who wielded the Witchblade. How?" Kensi realized the Witchblade may not have saved her in the fight.

"Only when they could not fight back. He would drug them usually. Poor Elizabeth Bronte was drugged and tied to his ship's anchor. You can do many things with the Witchblade but breathing under water for three hours isn't one of them. When he pulled her back onto the boat, she was dead, the Witchblade was no longer bonded to her. That pile of shit over there murdered her but I've always believed I was responsible for her death. After all, I gave her the Witchblade."

"How did you get her the Witchblade?"

"Well, wearing an S.S. Officer's uniform in Paris in the early 1940's got things done. I found a jeweler and gave him photos of the Witchblade. His mother was Jewish - a fact he was successfully hiding and something I promised he could continue to hide if he could create the perfect replica. Anything less than perfect would be a problem but not my problem. It took him nearly three months but my God, it is perfect. And for his good work, I arranged for him to visit New York and never return. He died in a nice Brooklyn home with his children, grandchildren and one great grandchild around him. When I got the opportunity, I swapped the real thing with the replica, figuring it would be a good tool to beat the old man with when the war was over. Gave it to Elizabeth - hide it in plain sight - and it bonded with her."

"Did you try to control her?"

"No, Kensi. Elizabeth was just what I called her, a spitfire. Sadly, once the allies landed, the OSS had to get me out of Germany. They didn't want some earnest American soldier try to kill me as the S.S. Officer, fail and get himself killed," Gerard sighed. "I was extracted and moved to the Pacific theater. Worked as part of the 2nd Marine Division. It was too dangerous to see Elizabeth again."

"Did you love her?" Deeks asked.

"I really liked her but I try not to fall in love. When I met Sara, I think all my affection for her grandmother and my feelings for her were love. But she never saw me as anything but a computer whiz kid. She wound up with Nottingham – not my first choice for her but someone I can tolerate her being happy with."

"Tolerate?" Kensi lifted an eyebrow.

"Every few decades, the old man decides he wants a son. Usually he's busy being disappointed in me and finds some poor boy who needs some love and more importantly, has family he can buy off. Nottingham was the infant son of some Vorschlag accountant in London in the late 1960's who lost his wife in a drunk driving accident."

"Not an accident?" Deeks figured.

"No, but the accountant was driving. CEO Irons stepped in to help the man with his situation by tending to young Ian as the child's father grieved. When the senior Nottingham fell asleep smoking and died in bed– nod, nod, wink, wink – the benevolent one took in the orphan and made him his trusty ward. Whisking him to New York, it was private schools and special training before returning to England to join the Special Airs Service – all at the behest of his wanna be dad. Nottingham was molded into the perfect killer and for years, killed anyone or anything he was told to. And he was good at it. Still is. He took care of your Griffin Park rapist."

"He died of natural…."

"He died of a load of digitalis in his special kale salad. I have to tell you, there's a lot of modern life I love but your treatment of criminals here in America is disgraceful and not in the way some people think. A fair trial followed by a public neutering of that man, a life sentence in a jail that included breaking big rocks into little rocks six days a week, three meals of tasteless porridge and a mat to sleep on is still more mercy than he deserved. But no, he got his special kale salad because California is all about healthy eating for their prisoners," Gerard sneered.

"Nottingham did that?" Deeks was amazed. The jail where Tyler Dalton was held was one of the most secured facilities in the country.

"That was his skill for MI-5 – the man's a ghost. And a hero for saving you taxpayers here probably a million dollars for a trial.. Back to Nottingham, when Sara "died"," Gerard threw air quotes around the word died, "he was moved into an office job where he could be watched. Had a mind for business. Of course by making a lot of money, he could protect Sara and Francesca. And when dead daddy Kenny's will is read, Ian will get $10 million and some company to run. He can marry Sara in public and have the life they deserve."

"And you'll go back to Rio and be a drunk," Deeks noted.

"Deeks, I've been a drunk in a number of places over the years, surely Nottingham mentioned that."

"Barcelona, London, Athens …..Oh my God."

"I think our Marty's a smarty," Gerard teased.

"Deeks?"

"Olympic cities."

"At the end of WWII, I became a contractor for the nascent CIA. I've been with them ever since. Since Munich Olympics, I'm usually in town for a year or so before the Games making sure something like that ever happens again."

"What about Atlanta? What happened there?" Kensi asked.

"I'm all about big planned attacks. A lone nut with a homemade bomb – can't do much about him. "

"How were you drunk in Salt Lake City?"

"Oh Deeks, that was no fun at all. They are very nice people in Utah but it's not my kind of town. Now Rio – that's a town I can own. And the CIA knows it."

"Do they know all of it?" Kensi asked.

"Six people in the world know I'm a lot older than I look other than Sara and Nottingham. Well, five with big Patro over there being dead but really seven since you two know."

"Who are the other five?"

"The upper most part of the U.S. intelligence community."

"The President?"

Gerard shook his head. "No, those guys come and go. There is a long-standing infrastructure that survives any administration change. I'm given a handler and an assignment and I'm good. Currently, that assignment is drinking in Rio."

"But you're here."

"Yes, and I probably will be for the next few weeks. I'm drinking as Griffin McGill these days – but you can call me Griff if you're in Rio."

"Why are you here?"

"Kenneth Irons has been based in New York since the end of the Civil War. He spent time in places like London, Paris, even Washington D.C. for a short spell but he's been a several normal life-long New Yorker. Moving out here and selling the penthouse meant he knew the wielder was a West Coaster – which he had to hate. There is very little old money here. Fortunes are made in frivolous businesses by the big I's standards like the show biz or the healthy living industry. California is likely his idea of hell. Well, I'm guessing right now he's learning what hell is really like but he was not a fun in the sun sort of guy. "

"He's not any anything sort of guy," Deeks said, now pointing to a small pile of dust.

"Those CIA types are smart. I always believed Sara would be the wielder who killed him. I didn't know exactly how he'd died but one of his former lovers died decades after wearing the Witchblade. Danielle was in her 90's when she passed in a New York City jail. She became a serial killer in her post-Witchblade years."

"Oh, that's good to know."

"No, Kensi. You don't need to worry about that. Danielle was evil. The Witchblade failed her but left her with her good looks for decades. When her corpse was found, she looked every minute of her age. The feds took custody of the body an hour after she died and the CIA got a flesh-free skeleton less than a day later, a pile of dust after a week. They figured if anyone killed the Ken doll, at 850-years plus, he'd rot even faster and for the first time in centuries, I'm so proud of my father for overachieving."

"What's the CIA plan?"

"Glad you asked, Kensi, since we all need to come to an agreement on this," Gerard stood and started pacing. "The Ironsman was good enough to dismiss his staff for the evening…"

"Baker's still in the bathroom," Deeks interrupted.

"Oh, the CIA has plans for him, too. Davey was a very bad boy when working as a military contractor in Afghanistan. He's going to have to be very cooperative or enjoy the rest of his life in an Afghanistan prison cell. And their version of justice is a lot more in line with my thoughts on the matter." Pointing to the pile of Irons's remains, "Back to this literal piece of filth, he went a little bananas when Sara died. Some really erratic behavior. That's on record. His sudden move here, very out of character. His entire staff will testify about the wining and dining of your two. I'm sure Nottingham wouldn't mind testifying that Irons was instantly obsessed with you, Kensi, as a replacement for Sara. That little scene in the coffee shop – so helpful and already uploaded to my phone."

"I saw him following me a few days ago."

"That was me." Gerard admitted ruefully.

"Irons said we were wrong about that," Deeks said. "Why were you following Kensi?"

"I was making sure you weren't ratting out Sara. "

"Why would I …"

"Why would Danielle think killing young models with snakes would keep her young? People are just out of their minds sometimes, full of evil intent other times. You two seem like perfectly normal and sane folks. Do me a favor, stay that way."

Deeks thought that was a request he could fill. "So your father is mostly nuts, how does that explain the state he's in?"

"They'll be a fire later tonight in the kitchen. Only in the kitchen, though – this is a nice house that soon could be mine. Anyway, cooking Kenny will have a mishap boiling some tea. Maybe his Egyptian cotton pajamas catch fire. That will be the sad, tragic end to one of America's most successful businessmen. His will is sitting with a trusts and estates lawyer who works with the CIA. He will leave the majority of his estate to a 25-year old love child he had just before taking over the family business. Money was paid to keep young Gerard out of the spotlight. I think we'll probably hire a Gerard. I really want to stay in the spy biz."

"How are we involved?" Kensi asked.

"Of course you'll need to confirm that the Big Guy was inappropriately interested in you after a thank you dinner for saving his armor collection."

Kensi kept digging. "I'm assuming there is more,"

"Well, you keep my secret, I'll keep yours."

"You never told the CIA about the Witchblade?"

"No. They think Evil Ken and I are the only magical things on earth. Makes me valuable. Evil Ken's dead, I'm more valuable. Add in that I'm a good spy even if I'm high maintenance - I'm worth the effort. I've enjoyed decades of being the ultra-special secret snowflake."

"We're going to want some cooperation from time to time," Deeks said. Next time Hetty has some super secret mission, he wanted access to all files.

"It will flow both ways. Especially since you can call the Witchblade at will."

"What happens to the video on your phone?" Kensi asked.

"I had this place wired for video before East Coast Ken moved here. All I need to do is swap out the recording box – I'm sure Davey in the bathroom will confirm that the security system hasn't wasn't fully functional. It will be in his best interest to. So what you did here never happened. Except it did and it was awesome. "

"If anything comes out about Kensi," Deeks started to warn.

"She just killed the mostly-immortal man I've known for all my mostly-immortal life. I'm mostly-immortal and want to stay that way. I've kept the Witchblade secret since I first saw it. I said my final goodbye to Sara and plan on keeping that too – she deserves to be free from her past. I may not be the best man you'll ever meet but I am a fair one. I will never betray either of you. My only request is the one I had with Sara – one she couldn't fulfill."

"What's that?"

"Sara promised to give me as Gabriel the Witchblade when she was done with it. To convince dear old Dad she was dead, she had to leave it behind. There is nobody for you to convince who brings the evil just like good old Kenneth Irons once could. I will be a worthy guardian of it, I swear."

"I'll think about it."

"You do that. I'll clean up this mess. You two probably should be seen someplace not here around oh, say one in the morning. Be seen in a bar where people know you. Maybe stop off back at your office. Never a bad thing to have video of location when King Ken's life-ending barbeque begins."

"One misstep," Kensi started to warn.

"And you'll kill me. And you can. Believe me, keeping you happy is my goal in life."

x-x-x

Kensi and Deeks were out until just before two at a pub they liked – Seaside Murph's. The owner even teased them for being out so late on a school night but Kensi was starved and Deeks was hungry too. News of the fire at the mansion opened the 6AM morning news when they woke. If Hetty was suspicious – and both Kensi and Deeks were pretty sure she was – she kept those suspicions to herself.

With Thursday being Thanksgiving, Kensi and Deeks drove to San Diego for some time alone. Kensi wanted a plan to tell the team about the Witchblade. She decided Deeks was right – they were going to rewrite the book on how things were done. Trusted friends were going to be in on the plan.

A week before Christmas, Callen was well enough to leave the rehab facility for a dinner with Sam and his family. Kensi asked Michelle if she and Deeks could join them after dinner – she and Deeks had an announcement to make. Thinking they were going to announce an engagement, Michelle was happy to agree.

Michelle moved to disappointed when the piece of jewelry Kensi showed was a bracelet and not a ring. Callen and Sam were relieved. "Oh, she's not done," was the last thing the three heard before Kensi called the Witchblade. The gauntlet grew with the full sword coming from the knuckle.

"I really died in the warehouse, didn't I?" Callen asked. "Because this can't be happening."

"Show him the really cool trick," Deeks suggested.

Kensi stared floating about two feet off the ground.

"Please don't tell me you can fly too," Sam said to Deeks.

"Kens?" was Deeks's request before he slowly left the ground.

"I think flying together is better than getting engaged," was Michelle's reaction.

Leaving out Kenneth Irons and Tyler Dalton, Kensi gave Callen and the Hannas an abbreviated recap of her new skills. Sam remembered reading about a gauntlet wielded by women warriors. He smiled at Kensi and told her that she was a worthy warrior. She liked that. He then warned Deeks to keep his feet on the ground at all times. "And I'm not talking about flying, either."

Next up were Granger and Eric. After wrapping up a stolen weapons case in the field just before Sam was scheduled to return to the team, Kensi found an old bomb shelter in a warehouse where she and Deeks uncovered some missing grenades. With Deeks standing guard outside the room, Kensi gave Granger, who was acting as back-up, a small display of the Witchblade's gifts. When she asked that he keep knowing about the Witchblade quiet, he wondered why she thought he'd tell anyone anything that would have his fitness for duty questioned. As he started to leave, he told her "Don would be proud." She thought it was the nicest thing he ever said to her.

Eric found out on Super Bowl Sunday. Deeks invited Eric and Nell over to his place to watch the game with Kensi and Monty. Eric didn't say anything, just examined the glove and sword closely. Deeks warned him that if any video game had a woman with a blade coming from her hand, Kensi would be angry. "And I won't like Kensi if she's angry," Eric said almost to himself.

February 29th was Callen's first day in the office after his shooting. The team was back to full strength.

x-x-x

Kensi met Sara Pezzini at Huckleberry for brunch on March 20th. Kenneth Irons's death was long behind Sara, who looked five years younger in four months. Ian Nottingham was given control of Vorschlag's media interests in Irons's will along with a $10 million trust fund for his daughter. After selling the house in Catalina, they were living in a gated community in Bel Air. She and Nottingham were getting married on Mother's Day.

Kensi explained the reason for the bunch. Besides a nice sum of money, Irons left Kensi some of the Witchblade art in the will. The bequest included the Mitsouki panels, a Jeremy Geddes photorealism painting Irons commissioned of Kensi with the Witchblade – it was delivered after his death - and the Ralph Bakshi painting of Sara. Gerard, who wrote the will, wanted Sara to have the opportunity to keep the painting or burn it. Leaving it to Kensi guaranteed Sara would be able to make that decision.

Looking at the painting, Sara wasn't sure what to do with it. "I don't know," Kensi told her. "I think Francesca should know her mother is super hero. Or super heroine."

"I want her to know her numbers over 100. She doesn't need to know about what Mommy did a long time ago."

"Will you ever tell her?" Kensi asked.

"If you have a child, will you?" Sara replied.

"I've told my friends, why not?"

"You're blessed Kensi. You have a group of good people around you, a man who adores you. I had the bracelet and later on Nottingham. When Francesca was born, I promised myself I'd give her the love you have, the love every child deserves."

"Then let her know how her mother fought for her. You, me, we're part of the Bronte line. So is Francesca. She needs to know just how mighty we are."

Sara smiled.

x-x-x

My name is Kensi Blye. In November 2015, I started to wield the Witchblade. With the support of my friends, the love of my life and the strength of not only the women of my bloodline but also the women who wore this bracelet before me, I stand guard and fight for what's right. As I've learned that everything and everyone we meet are all connected, I also understand not all those connections are clear. And that's fine. I have the opportunity to learn and learn with the people I love and respect. I may be just one in the line of warrior women but I do not enter this battle alone. And that makes me the first of my kind. The Witchblade knows that and likes the new history we're making.

-30-

Odious author notes:

If you made it this far – thank you. This was an odd little story I wanted to tell and I'm so happy if you read it all. It was so fun to tell. I am so grateful for all the feedback and kind words – it is loved.

Looking forward to season seven. I don't think Kensi is getting a mythical bracelet but hey, you never now.

Thank you again.

Tess
September 13, 2015