A/N: This is the sequel to The Secret, which should really be read first... otherwise this will make very little sense. Thanks for reading!

Ive never been a morning person. Kurt likes to tease me about it, but I happen to know for a fact that he finds it kind of adorable when I take a good twenty minutes to wake up every morning. One of his favorite pastimes is to slowly rouse me from slumber with his lips, and then his hands, and then his mouth-

"Blaine. Wake up."

I crack one eyelid blearily, squinting at the red numbers on my alarm clock. "Sonly seven, Kurt... lets sleep in."

"I said get up. Now."

All of a sudden, I realize that its not Kurts voice Im hearing. I open both eyes, my brain still foggy with sleep, and watch as Scott moves around the bedroom quickly, lowering all of the window shades and closing the blackout drapes. It doesnt make any sense – how did he get in here? And if hes trying to wake us up, shouldnt he be opening the shades to let in more light? "Wh... why are you calling me Blaine?" I ask him dumbly.

He stops, blinks at me for a second, then keeps plowing ahead. "Andrew. Perfecto, whatever. It doesnt matter anymore. Get up." He opens our closet door and pulls Kurts monogrammed luggage set down from the shelf. "Were leaving, right now."

I rub my thumbs against my eyelids. "Wait. What? Leaving where? Whats going on?"

"Youve been compromised. Castellanos men know where you are. Wheres Kurt?"

And with that, Im awake. I look at Kurts side of the bed, where he should be slumbering peacefully beside me on a typical Saturday morning, and his side is empty. I run my palm over the sheets, and theyre cold. "Scott?" I ask, dread twisting in my stomach. "Wheres Kurt?"

"I just asked you that." Scotts expression is grim, and I think I know what that means.

"Do they have him? Do they have Kurt?" Im struggling to breathe.

Ive known Scott Ward since I was twelve years old. Hes a U.S. Marshal, yeah, but Ive never thought of him as particularly military in his comportment. But now theres a steely look in his eyes, a set in his jaw, and his fingertips keep brushing against the gun I can see in his holster. He looks at me hard and says, "We need to extract you. Now."

"Im not going anywhere without my husband." My blood is pumping through my veins so fast I swear I can hear my pulse pounding in my eardrums. I fumble for my cell phone on my nightstand, and my heart catches when I see that theres a new text message from Kurt:

Were out of blueberries, so Im running out to get some for brunch. Be back soon, love you.

"Hes just shopping," I choke out in relief. "Hell be back soon."

"We cant wait. Theres no time." Scott is piling clothes, shoes and toiletries into Kurts suitcases. Hes mixing up our wardrobes, and taking no care to fold Kurts designer outfits, and my mind is still racing to catch up with whats happening.

"Hes getting blueberries."

"Hey!" Scott yells, straightening up with eyes blazing. "Are you listening to me? They know where you are. Youre lucky we got to you first. Now move."

Untangling my legs from the sheets, I get up and run over to the armoire, pulling out clothes and getting dressed. "We wait for Kurt," I tell him firmly.

"You dont get to call the shots here, kid. We leave in one minute. If Kurts here, we take him; otherwise, the Marshal service will pick him up separately if we can. No guarantees. One minute." He zips up the two suitcases as a couple of agents dressed in black enter the room, speaking quietly into their headsets.

"Extraction is a go," one of the men says to Scott, who nods and turns to me.

"Im sorry, Blaine – I mean, Andrew. We need to go. Ill leave someone behind in case Kurt comes back."

Somehow, my heart starts beating even faster. "What do you mean, in case? What arent you telling me?"

He locks eyes with another member of his team. They dont say anything.

"Okay," I say shakily, grabbing my running sneakers from under the bed and slipping them on my feet. "Just let me pee first. I assume we have a long drive ahead of us and you wont have the time for us to stop for that."

Looking pacified as I lace up the sneakers, Scott nods. "Fine. You have thirty seconds to use the bathroom, and then were out. Hurry." He turns to whisper quietly with the other two men, who are leaning over what looks like a schematic diagram together.

"Thank you." Tying the shoelaces tight and slipping my cell phone into the front pocket of my jeans, I enter the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind me. I turn the water in the sink on high, which I really hope muffles the sound of the old, squeaky bathroom window sliding open. I dont pause to wait for any knocks on the door or shouts of discovery. The window opens and I clamber out, landing on the fire escape and hurrying to descend the three flights of wobbly metal stairs as quietly as I can.

I never was a morning person. Kurt can wake up and immediately go for a run if he wants, but my legs never seem willing to work until Ive been awake for a while. Theyre unsteady on the stairs, and making far too much noise in the early morning air. I send up a silent prayer that Scott isnt checking the bathroom yet. I just have to get far enough away that he and his team wont catch me before I can find Kurt.

Because its not worth it without him. None of it is. I know I gave him the choice to stay with me or let me go, back when we found each other again. But what I never told him was how bleak my prospects would have been if he hadnt chosen me. What would I have done? Gone back to live with my parents? Based every new relationship on a new, false identity? Never shared a truly honest moment with anyone ever again?

Kurt gets me. Whether Im Andrew or Blaine or Perfecto, he understands me in a way that no one else ever could. If I lose him now... If they have him, if theyve hurt him...

My feet hit the pavement and I take off down the side alley. The extraction team must be on the main street, I figure, so I dart into the employee entrance of the bagel shop next door. A quick shortcut and Im back on the street, running as fast as I can and hoping the team doesnt look in my direction.

Two blocks away is our favorite supermarket, which has a decent-sized organic fruit section that I know Kurt loves. I make it to the store in record time, weaving past a pair of older ladies pushing their carts near the entrance, and race toward the produce department.

Hes not here. I run up and down every aisle, and hes not here.

Theres a fluttering in my chest that I cant quite understand. If hes not here, and hes not at home, where is he?

I go back outside, running three blocks down the street to another supermarket we sometimes use. It has good double-coupon deals, and Kurts been trying to save up some money so that we can see a Broadway musical together–

My heart sinks as I run through the second market. Hes not here either.

Fuck.

My cell phone starts to ring in my pocket. Its Scott. Ignoring his call, I leave the market, go a couple of stores over and duck into a Starbucks. Once the ringing stops, I dial Kurts number, praying that for once hell get decent cell reception and be able to receive the call. I look around the inside of the coffee shop as his Lady Gaga ringback trills a familiar tune. It feels as though everyone is watching me from behind their unfolded newspapers and venti coffees.

Scotts words are still echoing in my ears. Youve been compromised. They know where you are.

"Pick up," I murmur desperately. "Pick up, baby, pick up," and then the ringing stops abruptly.

"Somebodys up early," he says, sounding amused. "Did the garbage truck wake you again?"

I feel my knees buckle, and drop unsteadily onto a wooden chair. "Kurt." The relief washes over me in a cold wave. "Youre okay."

"Of course, sweetie. Didnt you get my text?" I can hear him humming to himself as he walks down the street. "I got this recipe for lemon blueberry scones, and-"

"Where are you?"

He pauses briefly. "Andrew? Whats wrong?"

"Kurt, where are you right now?"

Theres a sharp intake of breath. "Oh god. Is it happening? Are you all right?"

"Im okay. But I need you here with me, right now. Where are you?"

"Im... I dont know, five blocks from home?"

Instinctively, I turn to look toward the store window. "Where? Are you anywhere near the Starbucks?"

"Which Starbucks? There are like a thousand!"

Hes getting shrieky, which means hes scared. I force myself to speak calmly and clearly. "Im at the one across from that bookstore with the tufted couch that you like. I need you to drop what youre doing and come meet me."

"I was getting blueberries at the farmers market. Seven blocks west from you. Im coming." His breaths come faster, and I realize hes running. "Stay on the phone with me," he pleads. "Please dont hang up."

Theres a beep, and when I check the cell phone display, I see that Scott is calling again on the other line. "I wont hang up," I promise Kurt, standing and starting to pace back and forth. The other patrons in the Starbucks are definitely looking at me strangely. "Where are you now?"

"Passing the old movie theater. Dont hang up." Theres the loud sound of a car horn blaring, and I know he must be running through traffic, but I cant even tell him to wait for the lights to change, because Scott is calling again, and weve been compromised, and–

Someone enters the Starbucks. I look up hopefully, and then my fingers tighten around the phone.

"Kurt," I say weakly. "Get here now."

He lets out a little desperate sound as Scott marches over, grabbing my arm and pulling me roughly across the store."I should just let them catch you," Scott says furiously, and Id believe the anger if I hadnt seen the glint of relief in his eyes when he first caught sight of me. He drags me toward the door as I struggle against him, the cell phone cradled against my ear like a lifeline.

"Kurt, please!"

The van is idling outside, and its as black and nondescript as I would have expected. There are three men flanking it, their hands on their holsters. One grabs me by the shoulder, helping Scott throw me into the van. "Please!" I beg. "Hes coming! Scott, please!" I hit the back of the van hard and scramble up, dropping the cell phone and pushing past the packed suitcases and reaching for the door even as it slams shut. "Dont do this!" Theres no handle on the inside of the door, so I start kicking at it fruitlessly.

Another holstered man is watching me from the drivers seat, and Scott gets in the passenger side. The other three agents wait outside, making no move to enter the van. Scott raises his fingers to his headset, listening, then says, "Copy that. Extraction is a go."

"Scott!"

He nods to the driver as I let out a sob, and the van lurches forward. Then, suddenly, it brakes hard, sending me tumbling across the floor. I sit up and look up toward the windshield, dazed, and Kurt is standing in front of the van, his eyes wide and wild and his hands braced hard against the hood. Scott mutters something and rushes out, grabbing Kurt roughly by the shoulder, opening the sliding door, and shoving him in beside me.

The van roars again, and then were hurtling through New York City streets at seven-thirty on a Saturday morning, bracing ourselves against the side of the van to keep from sliding on the floor, and Kurts clutching at my shirt and gasping for breath, a bag of blueberries crushed in between us...

And if I wasnt awake before, I am now.