...

A/N: One of the characters in this chapter is Japanese and I have used the traditional use of her name. Oda is her family name, which comes first and Chiyome is her given name, which comes last. To westerner's, this is opposite of how names are sequenced: given name first ... family name last. When her name, Oda Chiyome, appears, Chiyome is her first name and Oda is her last. Thanks.

Revelations

The Japanese Airlines Boeing 777 banked gently as it began its final approach to the airport located in Santa Barbara California, the sleek wings giving off soft contrails of water vapor as the large aircraft's speed decreased. As easy as a feather floating in the air, the aircraft slowly descended, its landing gear locking into place and its powerful twin turbine engines whining as the pilot eased back on the throttle. He lined it up perfectly with the runway markers and within minutes, the plane was on the ground, taxiing to the concourse where family and friends waited impatiently for their quests to arrive.

Oda Chiyome was at her designated place at the exit door at the front of the passenger compartment, her dark blue blazer and white dress shirt that bore the bright red Japanese Airline logo was still crisp and clean, even after the long flight from mainland Japan. She spoke courteously to the departing travelers, bowing in traditional Japanese form as each person passed her assigned station.

When the last passenger departed, Chiyome moved to the flight attendant station at the rear of the aircraft, where her co-workers were beginning the post-flight checklist. It took the experienced crew only a few moments to complete their assigned tasks and they were just de-planning with the flight crew when the cleaning and maintenance group walked briskly through the covered catwalk. She moved passed them, pulling her rolling carry-on behind her and a long slender messenger tube slung over her right shoulder.

Chiyome smiled pleasantly at some of the men on the crew, presenting them with the face she always wore when she was performing her professional duties. A few of them returned her smile, and even let their eyes roam down her sleek feminine form. When she noted where their eyes were going, Chiyome laughed inwardly to herself, pleased that they thought that they would even stand a chance with her. On the outside, she was just another flight attendant that performed her duties flawlessly and flirted with the crewmen to keep up appearances; on the inside, burned a loathing of men, fueled by dark memories of horrible childhood abuse and pain.

One of the other attendants turned to Chiyome as they passed by the flight desk. "So, you are not flying back with us in the morning?"

Chiyome smiled pleasantly at the younger woman. "No Myoki, I am visiting relatives down in Los Angeles and I probably will be here for a week or more."

The younger Myoki nodded slightly to her co-worker. "Burning up some of your unused vacation time?"

Turning slightly to the dark-haired woman walking beside her, Chiyome put one of her most charming smiles on her face. "Sort of; I've been needing a break and I've already met my flight hours for the month anyway, so it's mandatory that I lay-over for at least two or three days. If my visit takes longer, I'll just take some of my vacation hours."

"Who's covering for you on the way back?"

"Hideoto."

Myoki's brown eyes flew open excitedly, her lips curved into a dreamy smirk. "Awesome, I haven't seen him since our flight to Brazil."

Chiome nodded in agreement with her friend, keeping up the act. "You two made so much noise at the hotel, I thought they were going to call the police!"

"He's quite the athlete and he knows what I like."

The two women giggled shyly as they continued through the air-terminal, picking up their remaining luggage and said their good-byes at the crew lounge. Chiyome continued on to the car rental agency desk, where her reservation was waiting for her. The handsome attendant behind the large counter smiled warmly as he handed over her receipts and keys, his flirtations courteously dismissed by the dark-haired beauty.

Chiyome waited patiently for the agency's van to arrive and a short ride later, she was opening the trunk of a Matador Red Lexus IS F Sport Sedan, and placing her carry-on and small suitcase in the trunk. Sitting in the leather driver's seat, she gently placed the leather messenger case in the seat beside her, securing it in place with the seat belt. Activating the keyless ignition system, Chiyome felt the 2.5 liter engine purr to life and reveled in the feeling of raw power that years of Toyota engineering had developed.

Driving slowly, Chiyome moved through the car lot to Hollister Avenue until she reached the edge of the Twin Lakes Golf Course on South Fairview. She found a poorly kept side road and moved to a secluded spot under several large oak trees where she was sure there were no security cameras and she couldn't be observed from the nearby highway. After checking and re-checking to make sure that she was not under any form of observation, she placed the transmission in neutral and let the engine idle as she unzipped the messenger tube. She removed a small clear pouch that contained a short intelligence report and a few photos, but those were left in their packets, the information already assimilated before she left Japan. The item she sought was still inside the leather bag, and she desperately needed to hold it in her hands.

Slowly and reverently, Chiyome eased a deep red silk bag from the confines of the tube and laid it softly across her thighs. She unfastened the ties that held the bag closed and then she reached in and pulled out the object she was seeking: a black-handled Ninjato, the traditional short sword used by the ninja of feudal Japan. It was smaller than the long-bladed Katana, about the length of a Wakizashi, the Samurai short sword. When she drew it from its saya (scabbard) the forged blade made a soft slicing sound, like it was seeking the air for blood all on its own.

Chiyome held her ninjato firmly in her right hand, the mirrored blade shinning brightly in the light from the setting sun as she turned it slowly. She looked down and read the inscription etched on the tsuba (hand guard). The blood is the sword ... the sword is the blood. She didn't really know how much blood this sword had spilt in its lifetime, it had been presented to her after her training was completed by her paternal grandfather and it had come to him from his grandfather. It had been used by her family since the late seventeenth century and was as sharp today as the day it was crafted in the hills of Edo province by master sword maker, Haikiro Matsuami.

As the haunting drum beats of Kitaro played on the stereo, Chiyome briefly reflected on the ninja tradition that had brought her to this place and time. This is what she was raised for ... what she was born to do and she was one of the best that the dark underworld of Japan had to offer. Her years of training and then her time serving the Hetami Clan that ran the largest organized crime sindicate in Tokyo had turned her into a remorseless killer. Her family had long ago surrendered to the darker aspects of ninjutsu and sold themselves to the highest bidders as invisible assassins, killers for hire.

Still holding the sword, Chiyome looked down at the picture that lay encased in a plastic cover on the passenger seat. The woman pictured there looked completely harmless; she was petite, small, and slightly aged. But Chiyome had learned long ago never to misjudge an enemy and to always assume that appearances were deceiving. Looking into the woman's eyes, Chiyome spoke softly to herself.

"It is my honor and duty to send you into the next life, Henrietta Lange. "

Without looking, Chiyome spun the ninjato through the air and seamlessly slipped it back into its tsuba in one fluid movement, the product of years of practice. She placed it between the center console and her seat before she put the vehicle in gear and eased out of her hiding spot. The avenue carried her to the 101 where she merged into the south-bound lanes that would take her through Ventura and Thousand Oaks before making its way to downtown Los Angeles.

The ninja's target was waiting.

Meanwhile, in a boat shed nestled along the piers of L.A...

"Mr. Callen, would you be so kind and please remove the shackles from my nephew?"

Callen heard the words but his mind was still in a state of shock from the brief exchange between the two people seated in front of him. 'Aunt Hetty' ... 'nephew' ... What in the world was going on?! He suddenly felt like the floor had shifted under his feet, like one of the small earthquake's that were common to the area had rumbled through. But there was no earthquake, but G. Callen felt like the walls should be shaking and the ground rumbling.

With his hands shaking ever so slightly, Callen stepped forward and carefully unshackled the large man Hetty had called 'Jericho' as the rest of his team watched, their faces conveying their surprise at this new revelation. Sam seemed totally stunned as he hadn't actually heard the exchange between his boss and the man they just arrested earlier in the day. Deeks' face conveyed his concern for Hetty, the woman considered a mentor and great friend. Kensi looked like she was hoping the ground would suddenly open up and swallow her whole.

"Do you require medical attention after your rather adventurous afternoon?"

Jericho smiled sheepishly. "After they shackled me to this chair, one of the agents now outside in the hallway, patched me up and the other covered me with his M4 while doing his best Clint Eastwood impersonation. The rest is just minor scrapes and bruises ... I'll live." He glanced up at Callen who finished removing the cuffs from his wrists. "Thank you, Agent Callen."

Callen stepped back and peered into the man's eyes, they were a deep green, almost like the sea on a clear day and were devoid of any ill-will or any signs of deception. To deceive G. Callen, you had to bring your 'A-game', and right now, the man sitting before him appeared completely sincere and honest. "You're welcome, uh ... I guess it's Jericho?"

Jericho was massaging his wrists as the circulation slowly returned when Callen held out his hand. He glanced down at it for a moment before reaching up and firmly shaking hands with the man standing beside him. "Yes, Jericho ... Jericho Steele."

Sam had crossed his arms across his massive chest and didn't seem as pleased as his partner. "If that's your real name."

Hetty's head turned quickly to her left, but before she could speak, Jericho cut her off. "Yes, it's my real name, well at least as far as I know."

Deeks shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "What does that mean?"

Jericho and Hetty exchanged a curious look before she spoke. "Before we continue, I believe that this conversation could be conducted in a more comfortable setting. Wouldn't you all agree?"

Several heads nodded in agreement and the team started to slowly move out of the interrogation room, Hetty leaving first followed closely by Jericho who towered over her. He moved gracefully for such a big man and seemed completely at ease in the unfamiliar environment. When they moved to the conference room, they found a rather perplexed and intense Owen Granger waiting for them.

"Henrietta, would you please explain to me who this man really is, I know for a fact you are an only child and that you have no living relatives, much less a nephew."

Hetty didn't respond as she sat at the head of the large table that occupied the middle of the conference room. Jericho stopped to her right and stood almost motionless as the rest of the team moved to various places around the table, some sitting, some standing. Granger took a position directly opposite from Hetty and Jericho, the scowl on his face indicating his intense interest in the explaination of the current situation. Jericho bent slightly at his waist and Hetty glanced up at him. When they spoke to each other, the language was unfamiliar to anyone in the room. Callen thought it sounded a little like Mandarin but the consonants were out-of-order, so he just waited and listened.

"Aunt Hetty, how much do they need to know now?"

"Just give them enough so that they see you as an ally, not a threat"

"So, should I just give them the basics?"

"I'll fill in when I consider it necessary."

"Sounds good to me."

"And Jericho? I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Jericho's smile was enormous and genuine. The others in the room may not have understood the words, but they could tell that these two were close and their anxiety about Jericho's identity eased a little more.

Hetty returned her gaze to the men and one woman sitting before her, taking in their inquisitive expressions and wondering how well they would respond. "Whatever you feel is pertinent for them to know, you may divulge."

The big man laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. In a move that caught them completely off guard, Hetty reached up and placed her smaller hand on his, giving him a light squeeze herself. "Well, yes, you are correct Assistant Director Granger, Hetty is not really my aunt, that's just what I've called her since I first met her."

Callen had known Hetty more than anyone in the room, except for Granger, or so he thought. "And how long have you known her?"

"Since I was eight years old." A sly grin found its way to Hetty's and Jericho's faces and it seemed like they were sharing a fond memory between themselves. The team seemed stunned, but Hetty had always been an enigma to them and this new discovery just seemed par for the course.

Jericho pulled out a chair and sat down next to Hetty. "I think that I'd rather sit, it's a rather long story and for some reason, I'm a little sore." He was looking directly at Kensi when he spoke and she lowered her head for a moment, embarrassed at her earlier actions. Kneeing Jericho in the groin wasn't her best moment and she was dreading the talk Hetty had promised her. Jericho seemed sensitive to the younger woman's discomfort and tried to reduce some of it. "It's probably from flying from the roof of a moving car."

Deeks' bark of laughter caused everyone to look over at him. "I thought it was because Kensi kneed you in your non de plumes. Ow!" He yelped when she kicked him under the table.

"It's quite alright, Detective Deeks, I assume. Agent Blye was just establishing her authority over a man who had assaulted her and her partner, it's perfectly understandable." He laughed softly to himself and shifted gently in his chair. "Painful ... but understandable."

Kensi's face flushed a little pink at Jericho's attempt to lighten the situation and she was inwardly grateful that he didn't seem to be holding a grudge. "You seem to know us ... would you mind telling us more about you." Her question was a little pointed, but if it offended Jericho, he just shrugged it off.

"Yes, you're right Agent Blye. For the last several years, I have worked for a rather obscure department of the N.S.A."

Sam had carried the same scowl on his face from the interrogation room. "Which department?"

"I'm sorry, Agent Hannah, but I am not at liberty to reveal that specific information, national security and all. Let's just say that if the intelligence community were a family, we're the uncle no one wants to see at the family reunion."

Granger wasn't pleased. "What the hell does that mean?"

"We get the missions that no one else wants, do what no one else can do, and sometimes we actually win one for the good guys. I will give you more detailed information but only in a Level 5 secured room ... not here."

Sam's scowl morphed into an outright glare. "That doesn't mean that we can trust you."

Hetty's response was immediate and forceful. "I would hope that if someone has earned my trust, they would have yours as well, Agent Hannah. You know that I do not give my trust away lightly, Mr. Steele has served this country honorably for many years and you will soon see that he deserves the same respect that you give to me."

Sam started to respond, but Jericho spoke first. "It's okay Aunt Hetty, Agent Hannah is just being cautious. With the current situation, who could blame him." His words were non-threatening but he shot a look at the formal S.E.A.L. that conveyed very clearly that if Sam wanted to get into a pissing contest about this, Jericho was up to the challenge.

Hetty sensed the increasing tension between the two men. "I have known Mr. Steele longer than I have known all of you with the exception of Owen, so let me clear about this: I trust him implicitly ... and I am asking you to do the same ... all of you."

Silence fell over the room as the petite woman's words sank in, a few of them shifting in their seats. No one dared to challenge the intensity of the glare she was sending them, like she was correcting a bunch of rude children and she was silently telling them to knock it off.

Jericho rocked back in his chair, an understanding expression on his face. "Maybe it would better if I just ..."

When Kensi spoke, it surprised them all. "No. Hetty's right, we are being rude. But you must understand Mr. Steele ... "

"Just call me Jericho, please."

Her smile was genuine when she continued. "Jericho, please understand, Hetty is our leader and, more importantly, she's our friend. We will do anything to keep her safe ... anything."

"I do understand Agent Blye, and believe me, I will do the same to protect her and I do apologize for arriving this way but it couldn't be avoided. If I may continue, I'll try to explain." A series of nods indicated that they were all still curious about the man who had crashed into their little world.

"A few years ago, my department started extricating assets from various countries that were, shall we say, unfriendly toward us. Countries like Syria, Russia, Iran, North Korea, China ... well, you get the picture. Unfortunately, some of these nations were not too keen on loosing some of these people to us, so a more creative way of collecting them had to be implemented."

"We had to make it so that their governments would not come looking for them, ever. Making it look like they were dead was the easiest way to do that and that's how my persona as an international hit-man was created. I've spent the last few years rescuing former K.G.B. agents, nuclear scientists, cartel members, scientists and sometimes their families from countries that would rather see them dead than in our hands."

Jericho let the information settle in before he continued. "Last week, I had just finished an assignment in Dubai where I was extracting an Al Qaeda leader's son who was involved with a French translator and was willing to help the C.I.A., when I received a contract to liquidate a certain Director of Operations by the name of Henrietta Lange."

"As I made my way to L.A., I discovered that this was an open contract: multiple contractors assigned the same target, the one makes the kill gets the last big payout. I ran into two of them during my stop-over in Berlin."

Hetty looked down at the table and asked, "What happened to them?"

Jericho's face turned dark for a moment as he responded to the woman seated next to him. "I was forced to deal with them."

Hetty's voice didn't waver. "When you say 'deal' ... you mean 'kill' do you not?"

"Yes ma'am." Jericho replied politely as he looked up at the ceiling as if he wasn't proud of the fact. "It was sanctioned ... they were clean kills."

Some of the team felt a little uncomfortable at the admission at Jericho's actions, even if they were for the greater good. His face fell when he saw the disapproving looks coming from around the table. "Like I said, missions no one else wants ..." His statement caught all of them a little off-guard. They had all done things for the safety of others that would be frowned upon by those on the outside looking in, and now they were judging a man they barely knew for actions they did not witness.

Callen realized that the mood of the room was changing and that despite how they may feel at the moment, this man was there to help, not hurt them. Sitting back in his chair, he interlocked his hands behind his head and tried to move the conversation along. "How big was the payout for this job?"

Jericho paused for moment before looking down at the table. "Five million Euros ... that's just over six and a half million U.S. dollars."

Deeks let out a long whistle and said what the others were thinking. "Geez ... that's a lot of fish tacos."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence and Kensi was debating kicking him under the table again but when Jericho started to laugh, the others did as well. All except for Granger. "So, who would put such a high price on Henrietta's head, Steele?"

Jericho didn't seem too impressed with the Assistant Director, as if he were an unvited guest at a private party. "I have no idea. Hetty has made enemies all over the globe, from the Golan Heights to the streets of Bangkok. I do know that whoever they are, they seem to have immense wealth and power, I've never heard of such a large contract for someone at Hetty's level."

Kensi raised her eyebrows. "Hetty's level?"

Jericho turned his deep green eyes to the young woman. "That amount of money is usually reserved for a head-of-state, a diplomat, ambassador ... a hit that would cripple a country, not a woman who should be enjoying her retirement."

Hetty's elbow jabbed sideways into the Jericho's ribs and he grunted softly. "Sorry ... a woman in the bright highlight of her adulthood who should be wind-surfing in Hawaii or skydiving onto Mt. Everest ..."

The humorous look Hetty shot him gave the others a glimpse of the familiar relationship they shared. Jericho just shook his head slightly and continued with his impromptu briefing. "And they seem to have access to data on her that isn't easily available and that's a problem."

The fact that Hetty's security had been compromised, left the team a little shocked. Her secrets were just that ... secrets. Her years with the C.I.A. and many other agencies that where known by their initials, had given her a résumé that would rival James Bond's and know it seemed that a Pandora's box had been opened.

"I don't think that the information is out in the open but it may not stay that way for long. I have nothing to go on as far as the leak is concerned, and that's one of the reason's I allowed myself to be taken into your custody."

The three agents and one detective shared a look that said they couldn't believe what they had just heard.

Kensi didn't even try to hide her disapproval of his statement. "You 'allowed' us to take you into custody?"

Jericho answered as if he had just stated a universal fact. "Yes Agent Blye, I did."

Deeks sensed his partner's anger begin to rise from the ashes and knew he had better do something before she shot Jericho right in front of everyone. He reached under the table and squeezed her thigh, signalling her to take a deep breath and count to ten ... or a hundred ... or even a thousand if that's what it took. She shot him a look and suddenly he felt as if sitting right beside her may not have been the safest place in the room, but when her burning brown eyes met his pacific blue ones, he saw her visibly calm down ... a little anyway.

Turning back to the man sitting beside Hetty, Deeks tried to dispel some of the sudden tension in the room. "So, why did you 'allow' us to bring you in?"

Jericho caught the subtle interaction between the brunette and her scruffy partner, and smiled a little on the inside. "I guess that came out wrong, that's not what I meant. I needed to get inside your agency without compromising my cover that has taken me years to build. Having you arrest me in full view of the public keeps my cover intact."

Callen had been listening and had a few questions of his own. "So how did you end up in the park and how did you know about who we were?"

"Hector picked up two burn phones, one for him and one for the gang that stole the Semtex and was tailing Hetty. I used the gang leaders phone to trace back to where it was purchased and the records there lead me to Hector. I reprogrammed another phone to answer Hector's incoming calls so I was listening when Juan called and set up the exchange." Jericho's face fell and he seemed like he needed to say something more. "I didn't anticipate Hector bringing the young man's mother into the mix, if I had, I would have intercepted him earlier. I assume that they are both well?"

"Yes, they are ... and no small thanks to you. Hector was going to kill her all along and we weren't in place to stop him, you saved her life." Callen didn't know the man, but he knew what he had done in the park and that his actions needed to be acknowledged.

When Jericho spoke, even Kensi felt like she was seriously misjudging the stranger. "We saved her and the life of her son. I was closest to the mother so I took care of her and had to trust that your team would be able to help the boy. If you hadn't distracted Hector, he would have shot that kid in the back."

Sam was feeling a lot like Kensi, his anger and mistrust was slowly giving way to curiosity. "How did you know who we were?"

Jericho glances around the table, looking each team member in the face before he answered. "I didn't, not really. I knew the names of Hetty's field team, but not what you looked like nor where exactly you would deploy in the park. I guessed you would set up an unseen perimeter around Juan and I just waited until I spotted a very anxious young hispanic male with a back pack to sit on a bench. Then I watched everyone that was in the area."

Jericho nodded toward Sam and Callen. "I'm sorry to say that you two were the easiest to spot."

The two senior partners suddenly looked confused and a little upset. They spoke at the same time, "How?"

"The park maintenance workers are all union and that means a regular eight-hour workday. All park employees start at eight in the morning with an hour lunch break, they clock out at the end of the day at five. Union rules prohibit any unsanctioned overtime and you and Agent Hannah were still working at 1730 hours and you shouldn't have been there."

The older agents were a little upset that they had so easily been spotted, but the mission had been successful and Hector had met his end with no friendly casualties. They were seasoned enough to know that constructive criticism should be appreciated for what it was ... a way for them to improve.

"Busted." Deeks just couldn't help himself. The second kick under the table should have surprised him but it didn't.

Sam's stance turned from relaxed to threatening in a flash as he glared at the blonde detective. "So how did you spot our resident bum?" There was no question as to whom he was referring as he looked directly at Deeks.

"I almost didn't." Jericho nodded across the table to the younger man. "If I hadn't been listening in on your comms, I may not have realized you were part of the team Detective. It seemed like you had used that cover before, good work."

The snickers and smiles that went around the table cued Jericho that he was apparently missing something. Seeing the confused look on his face, Sam tried to explain. "Deeks is our team mascot and it's sometimes difficult to tell if he's undercover or if it's just another day at Mystery Inc."

"Mystery Inc.?" Then Jericho's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "Does that mean they call you 'Shaggy'?"

Kensi laughed along with the others at the discovery of their little inside joke. She also had to admit, even though she had been a little put off by her first meeting with Jericho, he was sharp and perceptive. As she sat across the table from him, she also noted that he was rather handsome with a strong jaw line that was slightly hidden by a scruffy beard and the greenest eyes she had ever seen, they were the color of creamy jade. The brown hair that framed his face was almost as long Deeks' and she could tell he had a muscled chest underneath his slightly torn t-shirt. When looked up into his face, he had on a boyish grin that seemed to convey a streak of mischief.

Deeks let the little slam against his appearance slide as a thought popped into his head. "Wait, you said you were listening to our coms, how'd you pull that off?"

"When I entered the park, I knew that you would have comms up so I used a frequency tracer to find them. I worked my way around that area of the park, using the cover of sketching for tips to approach and scan anyone that I thought might be an agent and you have to be pretty close to someone for it to pick up the channels. Agent Blye was the fourth person that I checked and that's how I got on your system."

Kensi had a nagging question and suddenly she was speaking before she realized it. "So why did you sketch me?"

Jericho's face momentarily betrayed a look of longing and pain but he quickly recovered. When he turned to face her, Kensi saw that the hurt had been hidden behind his soft eyes. "What I said to you in the park was true, I've only met one other woman with your particular birthmark, the Nevus of Ota, and I just couldn't resist drawing you." When he saw a slight blush creep up her face, Jericho felt guilty. "I apologize Agent Blye, I hope that I haven't embarrassed you."

Kensi let a gentle smile form on her lips. "No, it's alright and, if I may say so, you are quite the artist and I thank you for the gift."

"You kept it?" Deeks asked at the same time Jericho did.

Kensi shot her partner a warning look. "Of course I kept it, it is incredible." She watched as her partner tried to hide his jealousy behind one of his goofy looks, but she knew him all too well. A soft tap of her foot against his calf muscle conveyed that he should just let it go. To her great relief, he did.

Realizing that the conversation had taken an awkward turn, Jericho went back to his briefing. "When I heard that Hector had arrived with Juan's mother, I hoped that I could get close enough to help you guys take him out. The DET cord around her neck was a little crude but still effective. Hector was distracted just long enough for me to get it of and disable the receiver before he could detonate it."

Sam rocked forward in his chair, his large arm muscles rippling as he rested his hands on the table. "Why did you run from Kensi and Deeks after they identified themselves as Federal agents?"

"I had to make sure that Hector was either taken in to custody or taken out all together. I was worried that he might get away so I continued to pursue him until I was sure he was neutralized. I just couldn't take the chance that he would get away." Jericho shrugged his shoulders. "I hope I didn't cause too much damage to your team."

"Too much damage to your team?!" Sam's forearms were quivering when he leaned on the table. "You assaulted two federal agents and then took out one of our tactical teams, that hardly seems like the actions of someone who is on our side."

"Mr. Hannah! That is quite enough ..." Hetty's body was tense and rigid, like she was fighting a war with her anger. A large hand that came to rest on her shoulder calmed her and she slowly regained her control.

"Aunt Hetty ... it's alright, I can handle this." As he spoke, he was looking directly at the formal S.E.A.L. sitting across from him. "Agent Hannah, did I wrong you in another life?"

Sam glared at the big man, the hostility clear in his body language and his eyes. "I don't like people who mess with my team ... my family."

"With all due respect Agent Hannah, but the woman seated next to me literally plucked me out of hell when I was just a boy, she gave me an identity ... a life. She's the only family that I have." Jericho eased forward in his seat, a determined and deadly look on his face. "If any one in this room has a claim on her as part of a family ... it is I and I'll be damned if I will allow anyone to bring harm to her. I came here willingly, seeking your help but if my methods are too unorthodox for you here at N.C.I.S., then maybe you all are not the agents that I had hoped you would be, maybe I would be better off on my own."

Jericho let his words sink in as he watched the reactions of those around the table. Seeing most of their eyes fall from meeting his, he decided to try a different approach. "Answer me this: what happens in a debrief after a mission?"

Kensi looked around and when no one answered, she decided to be the more mature one of the bunch. "We discuss what went right and what went wrong."

"And what went wrong when you encountered me?"

Deeks shuffled uneasily in his chair. "We got our asses kicked."

Jericho didn't let up. "By a street artist that wandered into your operation." As if that fact had somehow slipped their minds, the team visibly bristled at the realization. When he saw the uncertain expressions on their faces, he made his final point. "What if I hadn't been one of the good guys? What if I had been another contractor out to kill Hetty?"

Silence.

"These two," he pointed at Kensi and Deeks, "would be lying on a slab at the morgue along with most, if not all, of your tactical team." Jericho saw Kensi and Deeks bodies react to his statement and he didn't want them to misunderstand. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Before Agent Blye kicks me again or shoots me ... think about what I just said."

The faces of the agents sitting around the table were at first angry and even a bit hostile, but the more Jericho's words reverberated in their minds, they began to see what he meant. It wasn't that he was trying to insult or provoke them , he was trying to make them see that their pride was getting in the way of clearly seeing the situation.

Callen was the first to verbalize what most of them were already thinking. "What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger."

Sam softly shook his head, a slight grin on his face. "Friedrich Nietzsche."

Jericho felt a wave of relief sweep over him and he hoped now that they would be on the same wavelength. "Exactly. A lesson I learned a long time ago is that there is always someone out there that is better than you are. There will always be someone who can run faster, shoot better, jump higher, fight better than you can. Most of the time, you never cross paths with them, sometimes you do. You are some of the best N.C.I.S. has to offer ... you have to be better than this ... you have to be ready for anything."

Sam looked over at the man sitting beside Hetty, thinking that he had seriously misjudged him. The words had stung a little, but the humble tone of the man who presented them, indicated that he did, in fact, have the best interests of the team at heart. "So what you are saying is that some of us need to step up our hand-to-hand combat training?"

Jericho detected the slight bit of humor in Sam's voice, and it made him chuckle a little. "Yeah, Agent Hannah, that might be a good idea. The next time I run into your team, I may not be so gentle."

"Jericho, please call me Sam."

"Certainly, nice to meet you Sam."

"Gentle? That was gentle!" Deeks looked like he was about to blow a gasket. "My arm still hurts and I haven't looked at my ribs where Kensi landed but I'm sure there's a bruise!"

"Come on Deeks, we all know you're fragile." Callen couldn't hide his smile.

"I bruise easy. I'm delicate ... not fragile ... d-e-l-i-c-a-t-e."

"Whatever."

The chuckles that went around the table caused the tension that had been building to ease. They were all on edge, not only because of the imminent threat to their boss but the realization that Hector was apparently just the beginning. There was no way for them to know how many contractors were on their way or already there.

Assistant Director Owen Granger had watched the interactions between Hetty's team and Jericho, and even though he trusted her, he still wanted more information before he allowed anyone to get too close. Loudly clearing his throat, he waited until they were quiet before he began. "I would still like to know exactly what you meant when you said Hetty gave you an identity ... a life."

Jericho quickly glanced over at Hetty before he sat back in his chair. "This is a story better told by Aunt Hetty. I will fill in when needed."

Hetty sat up in her seat, and laid her small hands on the table in front of her. "Some of this information is still classified and I will only relay what applies to Mr. Steele and how I first met him. Please considered this priviledged information and that it does not leave this room."

When a series of head nods answered her, she began. "In nineteen eighty-three, I was stationed in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia working for the C.I.A. I will cannot reveal the assignment at this time but I was posing as a nurse at the city hospital. One night when I was walking home from my shift, I caught a rather young street urchin trying to pick my pocket."

The team's eyes all turned to Jericho and he just smiled back. "I had been living on the streets for a few years and ..."

Kensi interupted him, a look of disbelief on her face. "How old were you?"

"I'm not really sure. I guess I was about six or seven when I escaped from the government-run orphanage I was in. I say escaped because that place was so bad that living on the streets was almost like being on holiday."

"How did you end up in the orphanage?" Callen hid the emotional storm brewing inside of him, his own traumatic memories of a lost childhood flooding his mind.

"I have no idea. I have faint memories of my parents, but all I really remember is living in the orphanage. I ran away to the streets and after a few months learned how to survive."

Kensi's hand covered her mouth as she gasped softly. "But you were six."

Hearing the shock in her voice and seeing it etched clearly on her face, Jericho smiled at her concern. "Yes, I was but we humans will always find a way to survive. It was hard at first but there were a lot of kids on the streets, most were just trying to get by and we ended up forming into little families. We'd find a place to sleep and then would spend our days finding food. We took care of each other."

"A few years later, I was the best pick-pocket on the north side of the city, I'm still pretty good." Deeks didn't like the little smirk Jericho shot at Kensi, but he was too entranced by the story to say anything about it.

"I had been watching the hospital for a few nights, looking for an easy mark, when I saw this tiny, little nurse walking home. I thought this would be easy, I mean, after all, I was almost as tall as she was." Jericho laughed and, to the team's amazement, so did Hetty. Sam carefully laughed along with them, remembering what had happened when he had recently made an off-hand comment about Hetty's height ... or rather, the lack thereof.

Hetty's voice clearly revealed how fond she was of the man sitting just to her right. "That's when I caught this little fellow with his hand in my pocket. I grabbed him by his ear and gave him a stern talking too."

"And it scared me to death!" The sheepish smiles of the people sitting around him, told him that they understood exactly what he was talking about. "I thought I was dead meat, or that she was at least going to call the police ... that would have been worse than the orphanage."

Hetty's expression morphed into something tender ... sofT ... motherly. "For some reason, I just took him back to my apartment, fed him, gave him a bath, and let him sleep on my couch."

Callen's voice quavered for a moment but none of his teammates seemed to notice. "What made you do that?"

Hetty looked down at her hands, contemplating her answer. "I'm not sure. I think I saw something in his eyes that told me he had a good heart, that he was in need of rescuing." She looked down and her voice quietly faded as a large hand reached over and gently covered hers, giving her a tender squeeze. Finding her strength again, she turned her gaze to Callen, another orphan that was discovering that Hetty's recruitment of young abandoned children surpassed anything he could have ever imagined.

"She wouldn't let me leave and the next day she made me breakfast, took me shopping, bought me some new clothes, shoes ... " This time it was Jericho's voice that was thick with emotion. Kensi and Deeks were sitting the closest to him and they could see the unshed tears at the corners of his eyes. "She took me to the park and bought me an ice cream ... it was mint-chocolate chip ... that was the first time I remember ever having ice cream."

Hetty pulled one of her hands from under Jericho's and laid it on top of his. "I decided to bring him home to the States with me, so I procured a passport, birth certificate, and an identity."

Kensi looked with compassionate eyes to the man sitting across from her. "So, Jericho Steele isn't your real name."

"No, I don't remember my real name, parents, my birthdate ... much of anything."

Hetty smile sweetly as the memories flooded back. "I had to give him a name and birthdate for documentation reasons and when we arrived back stateside and I found a family to raise him."

Deeks' was thinking of his own troubled childhood and the pain he had endured at the hands of his father. "Was it a good home?"

"They were a couple that worked as intelligence analysts at Langley; they couldn't have children of their own so they adopted Jericho here." Hetty squeezed his large hand with her smaller one. "I knew I wouldn't be able to take care of him with my overseas operations still ongoing but I came by as much as I could to see how my nephew was doing. They did a wonderful job, but they died in an automobile accident during Jericho's senior year in highschool."

The group felt silent at Hetty's last comment, trying to absorb all the information as best they could. Granger had listened to how Hetty and Jericho had first met but he was still waiting for more data. "So how did you end up working for ... well, whoever it is you say you are working for?"

"I graduated from high-school when I was seven-teen, earning a scholarship to the Naval Academy at Annapolis and upon graduation there, I received a commission into the United States Marine Corps as a First Lieutenant. My first duty station was in intelligence and after a few years there, they sent me over to the infantry were I was deployed with the grunts of the 22nd M.E.U. (Marine Expeditionary Unit) as a platoon leader. They eventually sent me to sniper school and my last station was with the unit's S.T.A. (Surveillance and Target Acquisition) platoon operating out of the Mediterranean Sea and that's where the State Department started to recruit me ... that's what eventually led me here."

At the mention of the words Marine and sniper, Kensi felt her chest constrict slightly in her chest, memories from her childhood flooding her. "You were a Marine sniper?"

"Still am Agent Blye ... Once a Marine , Always a Marine."

She smiled and felt the sense of pride at his answer, she had heard that for years from her own father before she tragically lost him. When Kensi looked up, she caught his kind green eyes boring deeply into hers, like he wanted to say something but was not quite sure how to do it. He gave her a quick wink before he quickly looked away, turning back to face the others around the table. Whatever this mysterious man had to say, she guessed that she would just have to wait.

"Semper Fi, Marine." Kensi always said that to any Marine she met, whether they were active duty or not, it was something she did to honor the memory her father.

"Til I die." Jericho nodded towards the brunette, appreciative of her simple greeting. Turning back to the rest of the group, he continued.

"Look, I know how I would feel if someone waltzed into my backyard and started messing around with my stuff but these people are serious and we are going to have to work together in order to protect Hetty and end this." He made a point of looking each one of them in the eye so that could see his sincerity.

Callen rocked forward and rested his elbows on the edge of the large table. "I appreciate what you have told us but we will only proceed if my entire team is on board." Callen then looked around the table at each member in turn.

"Deeks?"

The blonde detective was still smarting from his throbbing shoulder but for some reason decided that if this man was trusted by Hetty, he couldn't be all that bad. "Sure thing."

"Kensi?"

Looking at her team leader for a moment, Kensi turned her head and focused her eyes on the tall man beside Hetty. The completely open and honest expression on his face intrigued her, as if they shared something that she didn't understand yet. "I'm in."

"Sam?"

The big S.E.A.L. let a small grin appear on his smooth face, all the animosity from earlier totally absent. "He seems okay, but if he steps out of line, we'll just let Kensi shoot him."

Callen looked quickly over at Jericho to gauge his reaction and saw that he was smiling from ear to ear and gently shaking his head. "I guess this means we are working together."

Jericho nodded to the older agent. "Thanks Agent Callen. I will do my best to stay out of your way, this is your backyard after all and I'm just here to help."

Granger pushed himself off the wall and stalked over to were the big man was sitting. "We've had other agencies show up here just 'to help' and it has never ended well for either party." The intensity of his glare was not missed by any one in the room, especially Hetty.

"Assistant Director Granger, interagency co-operation has been one of the main focuses of the Secretary of the Navy this year. Perhaps it would be wise to demonstrate our adherence to his directives rather than squabbling over territorial boundaries that hinder our ability to work together as a cohesive unit." Hetty's voice never changed pitch or volume but the certainty of her statement was firm.

Knowing that he had no allies in the room at the moment, Granger calmly placed his hands behind his back, falling back to his calm-but-pissed stance. "Very well. I will confer with the Secretary this evening and formulate a game plan to track down the mole we apparently have inside the agency. Agent Callen, I will leave the protection of Ms. Lange in your capable hands but if you need any assistance from me, do not hesitate to ask. I am going back to operations to verify the locations of Hetty's new safe house and assignment of her protection detail."

Granger moved toward the door but stopped just short of the exit. "Hetty is currently under protective custody and she will not leave a secured area without the presence of no less than two armed agents with her at all times. If you need additional man-power, operations will have the list of agents on standby available for your review." He nodded solemnly to Hetty before turning quickly and exiting the building.

When the wood door finally slammed shut, Deeks let out a long breath. "Geez, I didn't think he would ever leave."

Callen stood and moved over to face Hetty, nodding to his partner. "Sam and I will guard you tonight and we'll get a fresh start early tomorrow back at operations. I'm sure Eric and Nell have the address of your new safe house, we'll swing by the Mission and pick up our gear and anything else we might need. We can co-ordinate better once we get there."

The team stood and moved toward the doors that led out of the building when Jericho turned to Callen and Sam. "Would you guys mind escorting Aunt Hetty? I need to stop by my hotel room and pick up my clothes and my gear and I'm hoping Agent Blye and Detective Deeks will give me a lift."

Callen nodded and moved in front of Hetty as they neared the doors. "Sure thing, we'll see you guys in a few."

Jericho stepped forward and pulled Hetty into a gentle hug, her feet leaving the ground and his surrounded her with his thick arms. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Then he kissed her softly on the top of her head.

Hetty's small arms didn't even reach halfway around Jericho's chest, but she hugged him back as best she could. "See to it that you are my boy, I believe it is your move after all."

Jericho set her down on the floor and she turned and left with Sam and Callen, Sam looked back briefly, sending the other man a nod of reassurance before following the others out the door. When he turned around, Deeks and Kensi had somewhat perplexed expressions on their faces.

"Your move ... What does that mean?" Kensi cocked her head to the side in a mirror image of Deeks who was wearing an equally confused look.

"Oh, that." Jericho put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Every time that Hetty and I get together, we try to play a few games of chess. Since we don't get together that often, the games tend to be on the lengthy side."

Kensi was pulling her keys out of her pocket when her partner asked the question before she could. "How long has this game been going on?"

Jericho looked up at the ceiling and they could see his mind working out the math. "Let's see ... um ... six years."

"Holy bat crap!" Deeks felt a little shocked. "I have a hard time keeping up with my last score on Call of Duty."

Kensi snapped her fingers as if she had discovered something that had been their the entire time, and both men looked back at her. "That's the chess set sitting in the cabinet behind Hetty's chair, I always wondered why the pieces were in play."

Deeks was still shaking his head. "Six years ... wow. So who was winning?"

"I take it that you don't play much chess Deeks." Jericho turned as they headed toward the parking lot. "It's not about 'who's winning', it's about how the game is played ... moves ... counter-moves ... strategy ... anticipation ... sacrifice ... staying one or two moves ahead of the other player. The winner isn't the player with the most pieces, the winner is the one still standing when it's all over."

Kensi could tell Deeks had zoned out when he realized that a chess board didn't have a control pad. "You'll have to excuse my partner here, he still thinks Space Invaders was the greatest game invented."

"At least it's better than Ms. PacMan."

Jericho shook his head and smiled as the brunette's right arm landed in the center of the detective's bicep. "That's only about one-third of how hard I can hit you, I'm being nice since you're so delicate."

"Ow Kens ... I've already had enough physical abuse today ... from the both of you!"

"You're right ... here ...catch." Deeks almost missed when Kensi threw her keys to him. "To make it up to you, I'll let you drive back to ops."

Jericho thought Deeks' face was going to rip itself in half with the smile that appeared. "Really Kens? Holy Bat Crap! You guys wait here, I'll pull the car around."

Kensi yelled at her partner's back as he sprinted across the lot to her SRX. "And don't touch the radio station!"

"I wouldn't even think of it Fern!"

Jericho's eyebrows went up at Kensi's unusual nickname. "Fern? I bet there's a good story behind that."

Kensi chuckled softly. "It is, but I will let my rather annoying partner tell it."

When she stepped in front of him, she suddenly felt Jericho's strong hand wrap around her forearm. But his touch was gentle, not threatening, as he gently spun her around. She quickly looked up into his deep green eyes and saw a tenderness there that he had kept well hidden during his briefing.

"I hope I'm not being too forward Agent Blye, but I need to tell you something and I hope I'm not speaking out of turn ..." He hesitated a moment, letting go of her arm and his hand fell to his side.

She returned his gaze and tried to be a bit more friendly toward the new member of their team. "Please, call me Kensi."

"Okay ... Kensi. There's something you need to know."

"What is it Jericho?"

Taking a deep breath, Jericho's voice dropped so that even if someone else was around, only she would hear him.

"I knew your father."

...