2. "Where there is a woman, there is magic." ― Ntozake Shange


Kensi saw her father again, this time in her dreams. They were in a military history museum somewhere with Kensi acting as tour guide. She was explaining the weapons and tools she used as an NCIS agent to her attentive father. There were photos of Kensi hanging on a wall - in a Marine officer uniform working undercover on the Van Buren, sitting as a sniper outside the decommissioned power plant waiting to rescue Deeks, throwing a knife with Thapa and Deeks when they were cornered in the warehouse, picking a lock with Callen early in her career, wiring up her date's apartment with listening devices before being called in to meet Granger for the first time. Master Sergeant Blye, in his blue dress Marine uniform complete with cover and ceremonial sword, was smiling as she explained the cases. She looked at him whenever she mentioned Deeks and always saw his smile grow a little wider. She was thrilled with that reaction.

Don Blye pointed to the morgue photo of Peter Clairmont. Kensi reviewed her long covert investigation and how Owen Granger fed it breadcrumbs to follow. She knew the father she loved wouldn't drive drunk and she was so sorry she snuck out that night. He smiled and reminded her she was fifteen and even though she was a good girl, he always knew there would be a little teenage rebellion. Granger killed Clairmont protecting her, Kensi told her father, after she discovered how Clairmont killed all the members of Don Blye's sniper team.

Kensi explained why she continued serving her country with NCIS in the modern war on terror, mastering the skills he taught her and adding to her areas of expertise. A proud Don Blye told Kensi she'd grown into not just the smart, independent woman he wanted her to be but she was so much more. Kissing her on the forehead, a gesture made often when she completed a difficult task as a child, Don Blye explained she was about to realize what he always knew was true - her greatest power and her undeniable strength were inside her. With her skills, he knew she'd always survive but with her heart, he knew she'd thrive. Kensi woke with a start.

Despite what happened to her the day before, Kensi felt great. She pulled up her tee-shirt and saw the bruising on her stomach where she was kicked was gone. Stretching, there were no kinks to be ironed out. Looking at the bracelet, she tried to remove it, only to have her fingers burn again. Oddly, there was no lasting redness after she took her fingers away from the piece.

Grabbing clean clothes from "her" drawer in Deeks's bedroom, she made her way to the bathroom. A Post-It note on the bathroom mirror read "Monty needed a walk. I'll be back with breakfast." Removing the note, Kensi took a good look at herself in the mirror. She seemed rested with the scratches and abrasions from the flying glass at the museum all healed. There was nothing but a burning sensation in her fingers when Kensi tried to remove the bracelet before she stepped into the shower.

Loud banging on the bathroom door, startling Kensi, interrupted her long, warm, relaxing shower. A skeletal glove grew out of the bracelet, much to Kensi's amazement, covering the back of her hand.

"I have foraged the greatest of meats, eggs and cheeses for your breakfast," Deeks yelled as the banging stopped. "OK, maybe the good people at the Cow's End made it but hey, I paid, that should count for foraging, right? Hurry up, it's going to get cold."

"Out in a sec," Kensi said as the bracelet returned to its normal form. She stared at it for a few seconds before finishing her shower. Giving her hair a quick towel dry, Kensi was glad her long sleeve, green v-neck tee-shirt was here at Deeks's.

"You were up early," Kensi gave Deeks a peck on the cheek. "If you're going to whine that you had a rough night on the couch, remember, you're the one that picked the living room over me."

"I would never pick the living room over you, though you would think twice if it was me or the kitchen." Deeks handed Kensi her Beef-O omelet and a Mango Tango dairy-free smoothie.

"I'd take you in the kitchen. Best of both worlds."

"I'll put getting taken in the kitchen on my to do list," Deeks gave her a little leer before taking a bite out of his breakfast taco. "One of these days I'll make you eggs benedict but today is not that day, sadly. There's bacon in the carton over there."

"You keep promising eggs benedict but not delivering. And Deeks, nothing is ever sad with bacon."

"As always, I defer to your expertise." Putting down his breakfast, he asked, "Better this morning?"

"Much better. I didn't need the bed to myself."

"Won't happen again," Deeks promised. "Plan for today?"

"There's probably a ton of paperwork we never got to after yesterday," Kensi told him, thinking maybe she could find another inventory list from the museum and identify the bracelet. "I'd like to stop in and visit Stan."

"How close were you and Stan?"

"Jealous?"

"What, who, me?" Deeks smiled. "Answer the question."

"The Far East Field Office was my first big assignment after FLETC and working in D.C. I was the youngest person in that office and the least experienced. I was assigned there specifically to work on a smuggling ring that was uncovered by the unit in D.C. where I was assigned. The old director of NCIS was a woman and she wanted to mentor female agents who she thought had..."

"Mad skillz?"

"More like had a bright future at NCIS, Director Sheppard told me as she personally handed me my orders. I lived in Japan for a while as a kid so that was a plus. So was the fact that everyone else on the DC team was older, married and had every reason not to want to be the point person in Tokyo for an open-ended assignment."

"So you met Stan..."

"Well, since I wasn't working the case every minute of every day, NCIS would send me from time to time to some of the ships in the Seventh Fleet to help work their cases. There was an external data breech on the Fitzgerald and Stan needed help interviewing suspects. The Fitzgerald has anti-submarine charges, surface-to-air missiles, Tomahawks - terrorists or a foreign country getting access to those weapon systems was a great concern."

"You catch 'em?"

"Of course, but not in Japan. It was a couple of American teenagers at a private high school for expats in Hong Kong. They were the sons of corporate executives who were working with the Bank of China. I think one of the kids works for the CIA now, another is with the FBI. Third kid was more along for the ride. He supplied the weed if I remember correctly."

"And Stan."

"Stan didn't provide any weed. He was and still is an agent in good standing with NCIS."

"Touché."

"Stan was a nice guy who was happy for the assistance. When we got back to FEFO, he took me to dinner at Les Halles in Tokyo because he read "Kitchen Confidential" and wanted to try the place. He was far more excited by oysters and venison than the company. Stan was not a fan of mass produced food meaning living on an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer didn't provide him a lot of meals to his likings."

"They need to get Steven Seagal."

Kensi shook her head. "You love that movie."

"I'm just a cook," Deeks imitated Seagal's "Under Siege" signature line. Finishing his breakfast, he asked, "How are you really feeling this morning? I'm smart enough to wait until you were feed since 'hungry' will always be your first answer."

"I feel good. Better, I mean."

"Your face healed up quick."

She picked up her smoothie. "All the healthy eating I've been doing." Kensi saw Deeks was in a rare, serious mood. "I feel great. Got a good night's sleep. Really good. Maybe you should spend more quality time on the couch."

"You'd miss Monty."

"Oh, he can come into the bedroom any time. You on the other hand," Kensi stuck out her tongue before finishing her breakfast.

"Well, he may be over at your place in a couple of nights."

"What's going on?"

"Bates called this morning while Monty and I were touring the finer local fire hydrants. You've heard about the attacks in Griffith Park."

"Eight rapes in the last three months," Kensi knew. Every female in Los Angeles knew.

"Well, the FBI thinks this week or weekend might fit a pattern one of their genius profilers figured out."

"You're being recalled? How long?"

"Weekend only, Hetty doesn't need to audition replacements."

"That's a relief, especially since we're so shorthanded. What are you going to be doing?"

"I need to break out Artie and take an undercover non-nap near the trail by the Greek Theater. He's attacked women all over the park so LAPD wants to station officers in different places."

Kensi grew concerned. "There are wild animals in that park. Mountain lions. Should you be sleeping there?"

"I'll be wide awake. We gotta get this guy. He's done awful things to these women. It is not in the press but after he assaults them, he's got this indelible marker writes the most vile things on their bodies. So not only are the victims photographed for their injuries but they have words like whore on their forehead showing up in the pictures," Deeks shook his head. "Bastard."

"What night are you going to be there?"

"Probably Saturday, maybe Friday. There haven't been any attacks on Sundays. The FBI thinks there is a work or family reason for that. Bates is figuring out the schedule."

"I can sit in a car if you want company."

"I don't want you anywhere near that park until this guy is caught. I know you're badass Kensi Blye but this guy is a violent psycho and I'm allowed to be a caveman boyfriend when it comes to this."

"You're actually not allowed to be a caveman but I do appreciate my overprotective boyfriend every now and again." Kensi smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"So we swing by Cedars before going to work so you can see very platonic friend Stan."

"He's married, he's got a kid coming. He was nice to me a long time ago."

"After visiting very platonic Stan, we can start plowing through the paperwork from yesterday."

"I'd still like to know who is the anonymous donor of all this armor," Kensi said. And if they know about this bracelet and how can I get it off my arm she wanted to say.

"Can't imagine that won't come up sooner or later. Insurance and all that."

Yeah, Kensi thought as she looked for her boots, all that.

x-x-x

As Kensi and Deeks arrived at his room, Stan Burley and his six-months pregnant wife were in the same hospital paperwork hell Sam and Michelle endured a day earlier, just a different hospital. Mrs. Stan, Nancy, was a JAG lawyer and a Marine. She thought there was less paperwork involved with moving an enemy combatant from the battlefield to Gitmo than to get Stan sent home. Stan made a brief comment about Kensi's lack of cuts and bruises but Kensi joked about a quality foundation and living a healthy lifestyle. Nancy Burley was pushing the healthy lifestyle - like not trying to kick a grenade when your wife is due in three months.

Once at the office, Kensi and Deeks gave Hetty and Granger a recap of their visit with Burley before they started their after-action reports. Deeks banged out his "just the facts" summary for Bates and LAPD before getting into Hetty's more extensive review. Kensi studied the museum's exhibit inventory once her report was complete, noticing the winking gauntlet wasn't even listed. She looked at the bump under her long sleeve shirt and wasn't sure what to think. A whistle from Eric broke her concentration - he and Nell had news up in Ops.

Walking into Ops, Kensi and Deeks were met with two morgue shots of the gunmen from the museum. "I see dead people," Deeks said as they stood in front of the large table in Ops.

"Do we know who they are, Nell?" Kensi asked.

"On the right is Herbert Uwe Meier," Nell told her as Meier's passport photo appeared under the morgue photo. "Meier is former German special forces. Retired in 2012 and joined Heimdallr Security, a private contractor working in some of the world's most dangerous locations."

"Dead guy number two?" Deeks wondered.

"That would be Mitchell Smith. Mitchell Smith is the son of the late Warren Smith, founder of Heimdallr," Eric said.

"The senior Smith was former South African Police, leaving the service when apartheid ended and opening Heimdallr," Granger added as he walked into the room. "Heimdallr is full of former special forces operatives who liked their jobs more than the rules they needed to follow to keep them. If you have the requisite skills and a taste for violence, Heimdallr is the place for you."

Eric put some old newspaper articles on the big screen. "They made their reputation when kidnapping of executives in a number of countries was all the rage in the late 1990's. Heimdallr would negotiate the return of the executive, run the ransom delivery and once the executive was safe at home with their loved ones, would find the kidnappers and, if rumors were true, snatch a child or two from the kidnappers. Once the ransom money was returned to Heimdallr, they'd return the kidnapping victims to their parents."

"That seems like a brutal way to stop clients from being kidnapped," Deeks said.

"Heimdallr's private army does not come cheap," Nell added. "The person or persons who sent them into the museum has money."

"If they were sent at all," Kensi mused. "What if Heimdallr was interested in one of the pieces at the museum." Kensi wondered if the bracelet was what Heimdallr or one of their clients wanted.

"Possible but unlikely," Eric said. "Heimdallr is largely a collection of modern day mercenaries who do jobs and then move on. Besides, The exhibit has moved from New York to Washington to Chicago and Las Vegas."

"Because when I think of ancient armor, I think of the Bellagio," Deeks joked.

"It was actually at the Wynn," Eric told him. "And while security at all of the museums or exhibition halls was tight, the items were moved by unmarked 18-wheelers,"

"If stockbroker Justin Marchetti could steal a nuke from trained DoD guards and security officers with a handful of mercenaries, armor in moving trucks with unarmed drivers would be more a training exercise than an actual assignment for the men and women of Heimdallr," Hetty said.

"Especially since the assignment included the boss' son," Granger added. "Did they say anything to either of you?" Granger turned his attention to Kensi and Deeks.

"My guy was shooting, not talking. That's Smith, right?" Deeks asked.

"It was," Eric said. "Kensi, was Mueller staggering when he got to you?"

"No, why?"

"He had a long cut across his torso," Nell told her.

"What kind of cut?" Kensi hoped she sounded normal.

"It was as if one of the blades from the suits of armor cut him." Nell put up the written medical examiner's notes.

"But of course they could not," Hetty explained. "None of the weapons were even sharpened. The swords in that museum couldn't cut through table butter."

"Dr. Shuler in the ME's office is looking at some of the shattered glass to see if some flying shard hit Mueller but there isn't enough bloody glass according to LAPD to make any of her scenarios work."

"Can we interview someone at Heimdallr?" Kensi asked.

"Heimdallr is run out of a single room office in the country of Andorra. The lack of extradition agreements with most countries along with its status as a tax haven and a vacation spot for the European ultra rich makes it the perfect place to run a squad modern day Hessians," Granger told her.

Kensi sighed. "So a dead end."

"The DoD is tracing the grenade. They have several prototypes in development from three different military contractors - RangeTech, Vorschlag Industries and Aegis Armament - but none have a working model," Nell said.

"Or at least not one any of the firms are sharing right now," Eric added. "I'm checking around but that grenade is cutting edge technology that nobody is claiming to have."

"So nothing but dead ends," Deeks said. "What about the SecNav's group? Is there anyone who would warrant some attention from Heimdallr?"

"No," Eric put the pictures of the tour members on the big screen, finally replacing the morgue shots. "Outside of the Commandant of the Marines, everyone here is a political appointee or a career politician. There aren't five parking tickets combined in the whole group. Everyone's reputation is spotless."

"I'll make a few discreet phone calls and to make sure everyone is on the up and up," Granger told what was left of the team as he walked to the door. "But I think we're running out of avenues of investigation."

"Except for who set up the exhibit in the first place," Kensi noted.

"The Secret Service isn't commenting, the museum said they got the offer of the exhibit and the donation through a tenured history professor at Columbia who is currently on a ten week sabbatical working with the Russian Academy of Arts," Granger replied. "I'll see what I can do through back channels but whoever wanted their involvement in this exhibit got what they paid for when it comes to anonymity."

As Granger left, Hetty turned her attention to what was left of her team. "Nell, I'd like you to use your contacts in the CIA to see who is responsible for the donation to the museum and the exhibit. Pieces like the ones in the museum sometimes carry legends in the intelligence community. If we can match one piece with a legend, perhaps that will lead us to why Heimdallr was hired. Eric, perhaps a document search for of moving companies may discover who paid to move the armor from the Wynn to the Design Museum."

Eric and Nell started working on their assignments, Hetty addressed Kensi and Deeks. "Miss Blye, while you look well today I believe you and Mr. Deeks could use an afternoon off." Hetty put her hand up before Kensi could object. "I am sure a few down hours would do you both the world of good now that your after-action reports are complete, especially since you were robbed your promised late start yesterday. Mr. Deeks, I spoke with Lt. Bates this morning and if you will be splitting time with NCIS and LAPD, you'll need some rest. Go home, your own homes and just rest. Don't make me track your phones and find you're surfing or working out at the gym."

Kensi was startled they were being put on the shelf. She felt fine. "Is there any way Deeks could get out..."

"I tried, Miss Blye but Lt. Bates had a point. The women of this city are being terrorized. If the FBI believes flooding the park with undercover operatives like Mr. Deeks will bring a swift end to this, every woman in Los Angeles is going to breath a little easier."

"And if he goes to Garfield Park or just decides to try a shopping mall?" Kensi asked.

"Then I'm going to be spending a lot of time with Artie."

Kensi felt something warm run up her arm and had an idea.

x-x-x

Two and a half hours before sunrise, Kensi pulled onto the 10 freeway with the non-crazy voice in her head telling her this was a bad idea.

"This really is a bad idea, you know," a true voice told her.

Kensi gasped as she saw Dom sitting in the back seat.

"Don't freak out Kensi, it's just me."

"You're..."

"Dead, yeah," Dom shrugged. "I told Sam but he never told you or Callen in all his grief. I always knew you guys would keep looking for me. And you found me."

"But we couldn't save you," Kensi said, her voice filled with regret.

"You did save me. Knowing that you guys would never stop looking, that one day that door would open and it would be you or Sam or Callen...that's how I survived."

"But you didn't."

"The last few minutes of my life were about my freedom. Do you know what a gift that was? I saved myself and you guys were going to finish the job. All good, well except the dying part." Dom climbed into the front passenger seat of the SUV. "I like the new guy. He makes you smile...I mean he made you smile from the beginning. You wouldn't let him see it because you're you but he knew."

"Deeks is a good man."

"Yes, he is. And he'd be really unhappy if he knew what you were doing. The secrets thing never works."

"I'm sitting talking to the ghost of my old partner about my new partner. How exactly am I supposed to explain that to him?"

"He'll listen. He has faith in you," Dom reassured Kensi. "But he'd still be really unhappy with what you're planning."

"Not planning anything. Just going for a run."

"In a park where the police think a serial rapist has attacked what, a dozen women."

"Eight."

"More like a dozen, Kensi. You of all people know the stats on reported rapes versus actual rapes."

"Then maybe it's a good idea to get him off the streets."

"So what LAPD can't do, you and your armor are going do."

"You know about this?" Kensi held up her right arm. "What am I saying, I'm talking to someone who has been dead for over five years. What do you know about this?" Kensi asked as she turned onto the 5.

"That's for you to learn, Kensi. I can't help you with that. Things don't work that way. But I can offer some advice: use caution when it comes to those who have information about the new addition to your life. Not everyone who offers help does so with a good heart."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you need to work this out. You will be offered help from people. You've already gotten some. You're getting some now. Your responsibility is to separate the good from the bad. Do that and you'll always succeed."

"None of this makes any sense. You're not here, you're buried near your parents' home in Virginia. This isn't possible."

"A wise man once said if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," Dom told her.

"Einstein?"

"No, its actually a Sherlock Holmes quote but I first heard it in 'Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country'. My father and I watched it one night on the Sci-Fi Channel when I was in junior high. I liked the quote so much I Googled it. Saw that it was really from Sherlock Holmes. My mom came home from work a couple of days later with this massive book of all of Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. That's how I spent my summer, reading every story in that book. Well, that and computer camp."

Kensi chuckled. "You haven't changed."

"I was who I truly am in my time with NCIS. That's not true of some people. You had your secrets when I knew you. The new guy showed up with his own secrets, too. But they were secrets held by good people Beware of the secrets of wicked. They often use good actions to mask evil will."

Kensi pulled into the park and turned to Dom. She was alone. Taking a deep breath, she wondered again if she was losing her mind. She checked and rechecked the security camera locations on her phone, finding a blind spot to park the Caddy. Pulling on her hoodie, with her weapon, the bracelet and the front hoodie pocket loaded with helpful items, she took off for a 4:30AM run on North Vermont Canyon Road.

As she passed the tennis courts, she realized she wasn't alone. Dom was right, this was a bad idea and Deeks would be mortified. She slipped a crime scene glove on her left hand. If what she thought could happen would happen, she wouldn't need one on her right hand. Knowing that if her companion planned on attacking it would have to be before the trail cut down to the Drive, Kensi slowed her pace.

An arm came around, putting Kensi in a semi-sleeper hold. It didn't work as she head-butted her attacker from behind.

"Bitch," she heard as he pushed her to the ground on her right side.

The bracelet expanded to a gauntlet once again. A blade ran the length of the gauntlet, extending about eight inches past Kensi's hand. She stayed on the ground, hiding the weapon but feeling stronger, more confident with it. "You don't like a woman who can fight back, now do you?"

"Oh, I like it when you whores fight for a while. But only for a while," Kensi's attacker said as he moved to stand over her. "Let's see what's under that hood."

Kensi jumped up effortlessly, swinging her right arm toward her attacker. The blade sat just under his Adam's apple. "I don't really plan on fighting," Kensi told him. "Take off your shoes."

"What?"

"Shoes. Off. Now. With your feet - don't move your hands."

The assailant toed off the right shoe before struggling to remove the left.

"Lie flat on the ground when I pull this back a little," Kensi let the blade scrape down to his chest before stepping back. "If you make any move that I don't like, I'll gut you like a fish."

The man sunk to his knees before lying on the ground. Kensi moved the blade to the side of his neck.

"Very slowly, fold your hands behind your back. Any sudden move and..."

"You'll lop off my head. I get it."

"Oh, you will," Kensi said more to herself as she pulled the duct take out of the front hoodie pocket. The gauntlet retracted its blade to just a half-inch, making it easy for Kensi to bind his wrists. She did the same to his feet. In his back pocket, she found his Magnum Sharpie and phone.

"Roll over," Kensi ordered. The man complied, completely docile. Using the gauntlet hand to hold the attacker by his neck, Kensi slapped a piece of duct take over his mouth. With the marker, she wrote with her left hand the word "RAPIST" on his forehead. Pulling up his shirt, she wrote "COWARD" on his chest. "When they bring you in, you're going to confess. You tell LAPD these words are true. You don't want me coming back for another chat."

Looking at her handiwork, Kensi recapped the maker and put it next the man. Picking up his cell phone, Kensi pulled away from the bound man, "I'll call the cops, you're a bit tied up," Kensi snorted, amused by her joke. "The coyotes and the bobcats probably won't find you before LAPD will," Kensi took a few steps away before adding, "probably." Putting the phone on speaker, she dialed 911. She whispered to the operator that she was hiding from a man who tried to grab her in the park and was calling from his phone - he dropped it in the struggle. She then cut off the call. Throwing the phone next to her assailant, she said, "I hope you enjoy your final few minutes of freedom," as she ran off.

Kensi was shaking by the time she got to the SUV. The gauntlet was back in bracelet form. She checked the backseat - she was alone as got into the car and started to drive away. She pulled over just after driving past Sepulveda on the 405 to vomit. What did I do, she thought to herself, what did I do?

"You got a psycho off the streets," Renko told her as she got back in the SUV. "There are two bottles of water in the console. Deeks pretends earthquakes don't freak him and mostly they don't but he's afraid of getting stuck somewhere if there is a big one. He puts two new one-liter bottles of Smart Water in the console every week when you're not looking. Being Deeks, he has all these smart jokes planned about the Smart Water if you ever need them."

"He really does that?"

"Plan his jokes, occasionally. Smart Water is a layup, though." Renko smiled and answered her question. "He knows you'll never clean out the console. He has cans of tuna fish and a can opener in a neoprene lunch bag in the trunk for the same reason. He swaps those out every few weeks." He reached over and pulled a peanut butter cup wrapper out of the space between her car seat and the console. "You probably don't clean the trunk much either."

"You're back from the dead to call me a slob," Kensi said, pulling out a bottle of water. Opening the car door, she rinsed out her mouth a couple of times before starting the car.

"I'm back from the dead to make sure you get home OK," Renko said with a smile. "You don't need anyone to tell you you're a slob - you know that better than anyone."

"Besides being my dead co-pilot and slob shaming me, why are you here?" she asked as she returned the SUV to the road.

"I miss you, slob or not. Got a chance to say hi and took it. You know, I did the same thing whenever I was in L.A. after Hetty started sending me out on months-long assignments. I'd find you and we'd do something fun."

"Like the Glendale Planetarium to see a Pink Floyd Laser Show sort of fun?"

"That was cool and fun," Renko told her. "And Callen had just been shot and you needed some cool and fun in your life."

"My life is full of cool and fun things."

"Now. You talk to your Mom. You got Deeks. You, Deeks, Callen and Sam all sort of have each other. You're friends with the smart girl up in Ops. A couple of years ago, you had yourself, your investigation into your father's death and any class you could sign up for to prove you belonged at O.S.P."

"Now I also have this," Kensi showed him her right wrist.

"Yes you do. And I can't think of anyone who will use it better, tonight's little field trip included."

"I trapped a man..."

"Rapist."

"...who was..."

"Going to do to you what he did to a lot of other women and if you didn't stop him, he would have found some other poor woman tonight without your ability to protect herself."

"I'm arguing entrapment with a ghost."

"I miss you Kens. I can talk to you now. It's all good."

"How can you talk to me? Is it this?" she asked, showing Renko the bracelet.

"That's what you need to figure out. But trust yourself, trust the people you love. You won't go wrong there." And as quickly as he appeared, Mike Renko was gone.

Kensi left the Caddy half a block from her home. She walked to her doorstep and took a deep breath before going inside. Two hours before work - she could use the sleep.

x-x-x

The phone and her alarm clock were both going nuts. An exhausted Kensi slapped the alarm clock that had to be wrong - it wasn't 8:48 - she knew that. Except her ringing phone said the same thing. "Yeah," she answered.

"Oh my God, there you are," Nell whispered. "Why haven't you been answering anyone's calls?"

"I guess I slept through my alarm," Kensi threw off the covers and started to look for something to wear.

"Deeks said he texted you a couple of times and tried to call. I think he's worried."

"The last time I didn't answer my phone, a police helicopter landed on a beach and I got thrown out of a yoga retreat. Can you call..."

"I sent him a text when you answered. He is on his way over. You were supposed to pick him up and carpool in together."

"Crap, I completely forgot. We'll be in soon."

"No problem. Hetty is doing budgets, Granger is on some conference call about the museum exhibit. Otherwise, all's quiet here," Nell said before hanging up.

Kensi heard Deeks walk in just as she stepped out of the shower. "I know, I know, I slept through my alarm," she yelled through the door.

"I'll make you some coffee, get moving Kens," Deeks told her just as his phone rang.

Kensi was dressed and blow-drying her hair in the bathroom when Deeks walked in with her travel mug full of coffee and a convenience store pastry in clear wrapper. "Good news," he said, give her a rather through good morning kiss. "No Saturday night on the town for me and Artie."

"Bates assign someone else?" Kensi said, turning off the hair dryer.

"Better. Son of a bitch was caught last night."

"Really," Kensi made a production of wrapping up her hair dryer and putting it away - she suddenly couldn't look at him. "I thought you said LAPD was starting this weekend."

"They were starting tonight, actually. It seems a would-be victim got him before he got her. Hog-tied him with duct tape."

Not quite hog-tied, Kensi thought to herself. "Did the cameras in the park see how it happened?"

"Cameras have been down for months. That's part of the reason LAPD was going to flood the park this weekend."

"Do you have a name?" Kensi finally finished fussing with hair dryer.

"Marty Deeks," he answered with a silly smile when she finally looked at him.

Sighing, she pushed past him and found her boots by the couch. "The suspect's name." Kensi was genuinely curious.

"You ever hear of Tyler Witt Dalton?"

"He owns that private dinner club - Pacific Views or something - wait, he's the guy?"

"Looks like it. And with any luck, he's off the streets for a good long while."

"Well, thank God for that. Maybe we could make some Saturday plans," Kensi fell back into girlfriend mode. "Unless you and Artie needed a night on the town."

"No, Artie and I are good. But I wouldn't mind a night with my girlfriend tonight."

Kensi smiled as she took both the coffee and pastry from him. "I'll see what I can do."

Watching her walk to the door, Deeks knew something was very wrong and planned to find out exactly what that was.

-30-