Finn was having incredibly pleasant dreams. He was at the beach, and everything around him could be eaten -- it was like some sort of sea-themed Hansel and Gretel. The sand was made of cookie dough, the umbrellas were giant candy, and the sea was Dr. Pepper. He grabbed a handful of sand and put it in his mouth. It was gooey and delicious.

Rachel was under one of the candy umbrellas, lying on a beach towel made of marshmallows. He wondered if the red bikini she was wearing could be eaten too. It looked like Red Vines from where he was standing…

Just as Rachel smiled wildly and gestured for him to come closer, there was a loud noise in his room and Finn woke up abruptly, too abruptly to remember why there was a Latino woman screaming at him, half in English, half in Spanish, to get up.

“I… what?” He asked, sitting up in bed sleepily.

“I said,” Santana exclaimed impatiently, “that I need to get to the bureau.”

“Uhm, okay? Then I guess I’ll see you later? Unless Rachel’s coming back?” Finn mumbled, his mouth feeling pasty.

Santana groaned in exasperation. “What part of having to be at a FBI agent’s watch 24/7 don’t you get? Get up, get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

Finn blinked at her, but when she looked like she was ready to simply drag him to the street in his boxers, he held a placating hand. “Fine. Jeez, I’m coming. Are you always this difficult in the middle of the night?”

“Only when I have to be away from my pregnant wife for two days because an incompetent agent can’t do her damn job,” Santana replied fiercely.

“Hey, Rachel’s not incompetent!” Finn exclaimed, offended. When Santana regarded him with a raised eyebrow, he gaped like a fish out of the water as he thought of what to say. In the end, he simply murmured, angrily: “Weren’t you in a hurry?”

“Yes, I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes.”

She left, banging the door behind her a little too forcefully. It was completely unnecessary, in Finn’s opinion. When he glanced at the clock on his bedside table and saw that it was only four in the morning, he grabbed his pillow and threw it at the closed door.

Nevertheless, he got out of bed and pulled some pants on. He had no idea what was going on, but it didn’t seem wise to get on Santana’s bad side.

He missed how easy things had been with Rachel. He couldn’t help wondering if she would ever come back.

*

Captain Jones walked into the conference room and the buzz of conversation died out immediately. She stood at the end of the long table and looked around the room at the agents, most of who seemed too sleepy to function properly. However, one gaze from Mercedes Jones had the same effect as a very strong coffee. They straightened up in their seats as they waited for her to talk.

“Most of you know why we’re meeting here right now,” she began, her voice loud in clear. She turned and pointed at the screen behind her with a remote control. The image of a crime scene appeared in it. “Megan Collins, 23 years old. She was meeting her friends for drinks in a bar in Brooklyn tonight, but she never made it there. A woman found her when she went out to walk her dog.”

“Are there any leads in the crime scene?” Santana asked, unable to control herself. She needed to know more.

“Agents Berry, Castro, Phillips, Hart and Lowell were the first to arrive at the scene. We have no new leads, no eye-witnesses,” Captain Jones explained. She clicked a button, and a closer photograph of the body appeared on the screen. There was a bloody red heart cut into the woman’s abdomen. Her lifeless, scared eyes were open, looking up at nothing. “This continues to escalate. We cannot allow there to be any more victims. We already have Kurt Hummel in protection, his brother is accompanied by an agent at all times… how is it that we have absolutely no positive results? Agent Evans,” she turned abruptly to the blonde man sitting by the middle of the table, who jumped at being talked to so out of nowhere. “Have you checked the data bases? Has his identikit shown any matches whatsoever?”

“Nothing,” Sam replied, wishing he could say the opposite. “It’s like he wasn’t even born. We have no registry of him anywhere.”

“His picture has been published in several newspapers and shown in pretty much every TV news channel in New York, but all we’ve got were wrong leads,” Rachel said, always eager to participate. “People have been calling non-stop in a panic, claiming they’ve seen him, but it never turns out to be true.”

Captain Jones sighed. “Alright, well, then we have to…”

“I believe he was here, in the bureau,” Santana said so suddenly that everyone turned to look at her in shock. “I have no proof and that’s why I never brought it up before, but…”

“What makes you say this?” Captain Jones asked, clearly scandalized that this had happened without her knowing. “Agent Lopez, if you think something as dangerous as that is going on in my own office, then you have to speak up.”

“I’m sorry,” Santana said, but as usual she didn’t sound like she meant it. She was used to playing by her own rules. “I did handle the situation when it arose, and since there haven’t been any developments since then…” Santana shrugged. “Agent Evans told me he believed someone had been through his stuff.”

Sam raised his hands, as in self-defense. “I said I wasn’t sure. I triple checked everything and nothing was missing. I could have been wrong.”

“I don’t think he was wrong,” Santana retorted matter-of-factly. “But like I said, I can’t prove anything. Agent Castro checked downstairs with security, and Agent Hart went through the security camera’s footage. There was nothing suspicious.”

Both agents nodded to show she was telling the truth. Captain Jones pinched the bridge of her nose, as if a headache was suddenly developing.

“We have to be more careful from now on. I don’t want to think this man was right here under our noses and we didn’t catch him,” she said firmly. “Now, we need a new plan, because clearly nothing we’re doing is working, and this is unacceptable. So who wants to bring some ideas onto the table?”

No one seemed too desperate to be the first to talk.

They were all completely lost, unsure how to handle this. Rachel and Santana shared a quick glance: if Blaine had been there, he would have proposed ten new strategies, all thoroughly-planned. It wasn’t the same without him here. He was a fierce team leader, and each and every one in this office trusted him blindly. It was difficult to fill that empty space.

“Okay…” Santana said, after exchanging one more look with Rachel. They both got up. “Do we have a map with all the attacks? Can we determine a particular area? Where did this one happen?”

Agent Evans was already spreading a large New York map on the table. Mercedes came over and pointed at a street in Brooklyn. “It was here.”

Rachel frowned. “That’s about two blocks from Blaine’s apartment.”

“He’s never attacked in Brooklyn before,” Santana pointed out, leaning over the map to take a better look. “He’s always stuck to Manhattan. The first one was near the park, here. There was another one on Kensington, then the one near Chinatown… and the one by Hummel’s apartment in the Lower East Side…”

“What are you saying?” Captain Jones asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What Santana is saying is that he’s changed his pattern. Again,” Rachel replied. “First he changed it when Mr. Hummel saw him, and went after him. He had never done that before. He’s only ever chased women. And now he went all the way to Brooklyn to kill this girl. But why this girl?”

“I’m more interested in knowing why he was so close to Blaine’s apartment,” Santana murmured. She mumbled a few words no one understood, her brain clearly working too fast to even explain to the rest of the agents what she was trying to get at.

“Don’t you think that could be a coincidence?” Hart asked shrugging. “The third attack was about three blocks from my apartment. I don’t think there’s a connection there.”

“No, but… Blaine’s in charge. I don’t know…” Santana sighed. “I feel like there’s something there. I just need some time to figure out what.”

“We don’t have much time. We need to do something in the meantime,” Captain Jones said. “It looked like you two were going somewhere with this. What was it?”

Rachel and Santana looked at each other once more, before Rachel said: “Bait.”

“We send undercover female agents to the areas where he usually strikes, and we wait to see if he bites,” Santana sat back on her chair and looked around the conference room. “It’s not the most brilliant idea we’ve ever had, but let’s face it… we have nothing. He’s proven to be pretty impossible to catch. Let’s try a new angle.”

Captain Jones kept glancing over the map. “That could lead us nowhere, but at least it’s an idea. Anyone else feels like sharing with the class?”

The meeting continued like that for at least another hour. By the time they started walking out of the conference room, they were feeling quite discouraged. Never had a case seemed so important and yet so frustratingly difficult.

*

Finn was sitting at one of the desks in the main floor, spinning his chair around in absolute boredom. He stopped when he saw the meeting was over and stood up. Both Santana and Rachel approached him.

“How did it go?” He asked anxiously.

“It could have been a lot better,” Santana muttered, clearly in a mood.

Rachel tried for a reassuring smile, even though she felt so uselessly nervous. “Well, the good news is that if he’s still out and about in New York, Kurt is safe. He’s not going after him.”

“Do you think maybe he forgot about Kurt altogether?” Finn said, his eyes lighting up with hope.

Rachel wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but she guessed it couldn’t hurt to put a little optimism into this whole ordeal. “It looks like it. Let’s hope he did.”

Santana watched them silently for a few seconds and then groaned. “Look, it’s actually exhausting watching you two, so I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee and get to work. Berry, you are more than welcomed to resume your assignment and take Hudson back to his place. I am done with that.”

Rachel gaped for a moment, and then sighed. “Of course. My errands are all done, after all.”

“Right, errands,” Santana repeated, rolling her eyes. “Have fun with that.”

She gave Finn an awfully strong pat on the back, and then left them alone.

“Ready to go?” Rachel asked with an awkward smile.

Finn looked so elated, Santana would have said the sun was shining out of his ass. Rachel was glad she hadn’t seen him.

“I’m ready,” he replied.

Rachel wasn’t sure she was.

*

He was back in that phone booth. It was so dark outside that he couldn’t see the killer lurking around it, but he knew, without a single doubt, that he was there. He tried to grab the phone to call the police, but as soon as he touched it, it began to melt in his hand.

“No, no, no, please,” Kurt murmured desperately.

There was a flash of light, like lightning during a storm, and he realized he wasn’t alone inside the booth.

The dead girl’s body was right next to him, so close that he could feel her still-warm blood as it poured freely from her.

And then the pounding started.

Kurt covered his ears and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for it to stop. But the killer wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t leave him alone - he continued to pound on the booth’s wall, trying to break in, trying to get to him…

How long would it hold? How long until it was his blood dropping on the ground?

The pounding grew so much that he could feel it vibrating inside his own head. He had no way to escape this. He was going to die.

He screamed so loud, it felt as if his insides were being torn apart.

“Kurt!”

He opened his eyes. He wasn’t in that blood-smelling phone booth. He was still in Maryland, sitting up in bed, and completely drenched in sweat. But the pounding continued, and it took a few seconds for him to realize it didn’t come from his dream.

It was the bedroom door, and Blaine calling his name on the other side.

“Kurt! I’m coming in!” He announced. And then the door was open, and Blaine stood there, bathed by the light coming from the hallway, dressed in sweatpants and a soft blue t-shirt. “Hey. Hey, are you okay?”

Kurt allowed himself a moment to try to get his breathing back to normal. It wasn’t easy. If he blinked, he could still see the girl’s body, the gleam of the knife as it moved towards him; he could almost feel the killer’s breath on his skin.

He shivered and covered his face with his hands, forcing himself to calm down. It was stupid to feel like this. He was safe. He had managed to escape.

He felt the bed dip and looked up, finding Blaine carefully sitting next to him, but still keeping a respectful and careful distance. It was too dark to see every detail of his face, but Kurt found the worry in his eyes, the slight burrow of his eyebrows as he stared at him. Blaine’s hand was resting on the bedspread not far from his knee, like he was considering reaching out and touching Kurt to offer his comfort, but clearly unsure if it would be welcomed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kurt muttered quietly, embarrassed. He was a grown man and should have been able to deal with this a little better.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t sleeping,” Blaine replied, offering a little smile. “I know it’s a stupid question, but are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied, shaking his head. Then he sighed, and said: “Yes. Yes, of course I’m okay. I’m just an idiot. I should get this under control, I should…”

“It’s not your fault, Kurt,” Blaine said kindly. “It’s understandable, after what you went through. You’ve had your entire life suddenly shaken up, changed. Please don’t feel bad about this.”

Kurt opened his mouth to answer, but then promptly closed it. He had suddenly realized how close Blaine was, the closest he’d been in a couple of days. Since the kiss incident, Blaine had kept his distance, like even being in the same room was too much. He wondered if Blaine felt too bad for him, pitied him. It stung to think like that, but he had no idea why else he would be here right now, after avoiding him so carefully since that night.

Blaine cleared his throat. Apparently Kurt wasn’t the only one who suddenly perceived how awkward the air had seemed to get between them. “If you’re okay, then I should let you go back to sleep…”

“I don’t think that’s happening any time soon,” Kurt said tiredly. It was still dark outside, the moon shone through the curtains in the window.

Blaine stood up. “Well, then how about some coffee? It’ll be morning soon anyway.”

Kurt still didn’t know why Blaine wasn’t avoiding him anymore, but he was so grateful that he could have cried in relief. “Sure. That sounds fantastic.”

Blaine gave him a quick smile. “Great. I’ll go make a fresh pot, just come join me when you’re ready.”

Kurt turned on the light as Blaine closed the door behind him. He was still drenched in sweat, and he felt disgusting. He got out of bed and grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a grey t-shirt before he headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

By the time he entered the kitchen, Blaine was standing next to the coffee maker, leaning against the counter and completely lost in thought, his whiskey eyes wandering out the window. There seemed to be something different about him - he still looked as tired as usual, and considering how many sleepless nights he’d had since they had arrived at the ranch, Kurt wasn’t surprised. But, oddly, he seemed a little more at peace, like some of the tension that had been constantly residing on his shoulders had melted away.

Kurt didn’t understand, but he also didn’t question it.

“There you are,” Blaine said, another quick smile coming to his face. He grabbed a couple of mugs from the cabinet and reached for the pot. “Right on time.”

Once he had his cup of coffee in his hands - was there anything more comforting than the warmth of a coffee cup between his hands? - he followed Blaine outside to the gallery. They sat down on the comfortable white chairs and looked at the night sky still splattered with stars. Kurt may have been a city man who missed the sound of the subway and the lights of Time Square, but he had to admit that Bahay Ranch was absolutely breathtaking.

He watched as Blaine took a sip of coffee. The ranch wasn’t the only breathtaking thing he could see.

Kurt looked away. There was no need to go down that path again.

“Have you heard from Finn and Agent Berry again?” Kurt asked.

“No, but that’s actually good news,” Blaine replied. “It means they are safe.”

Kurt nodded. He wanted to talk to Finn again, but he wasn’t sure if Blaine would allow it. The FBI had strict rules, and Kurt didn’t want to get Blaine into trouble by making him break them.

“Did you and Finn grow up together?” Blaine asked, pulling Kurt from his own thoughts. “I mean, I did notice you call him your brother, but you two have different last names, and…”

“Our parents got married when we were juniors in high school,” Kurt explained. “We’ve been through so much together, it feels like we have the same blood running through our veins. Sometimes I forget he’s actually my stepbrother.” Blaine was looking at him, like inviting him to tell him more, so Kurt sipped his coffee for a moment before he continued. “I was bullied a lot in high school. Finn was always there for me when I needed him. He never knew his father, I lost my mom when I was eight… it was important for us to have a family, so I guess that we just… gravitated towards each other.” Kurt shrugged. “He found a dad who gladly took him to the Buckeyes games, and I found a mom who went shopping with me. Things fell into place when our parents fell in love. It was kind of magical, actually.”

“It sounds magical,” Blaine agreed with a smile.

“I know my dad loved my mother, that they meant everything to each other, but I think he was always destined to meet Carole, to have her in his life. It’s like we were four pieces of the same puzzle. Dad always said that my mom was the one who sent him Carole, like some sort of guardian angel,” Kurt ran his finger around the mug’s edge, looking at the dark liquid swirling inside. “I was never a spiritual guy, I don’t believe in those things, but… I don’t know, I guess it’s a nice thought.”

“Sometimes the thought is enough to make you feel better. You don’t have to believe in everything, but you need some comfort. You can’t just close the doors to every explanation, every possibility,” Blaine murmured, his gaze fixed on some point near the gate. “When my dad and Cooper died, I struggled a lot with the matter of the afterlife. My mom started going to church a lot, and that’s where she found comfort. I’m not like her, I’m more logic-oriented, I need physical proof of everything, but… sometimes I wish I believed.”

“Sometimes I wish I believed, too,” Kurt whispered, and they looked at each other.

There was something charged in that look, like they were trying to glance straight into each other’s souls, trying to read every secret, every memory. Kurt felt himself growing warm, felt the sudden racing of his heart, and had to look away.

“So your dad and Carole…” Blaine said, the implication clear in his voice.

“Yeah, they passed away. Dad had a heart condition. He had a heart attack when I was in high school, then again when I was in college, and one last time about three years ago. It was out of nowhere, we were all devastated, but Carole just couldn’t deal with the loss, and she died a year later. Never let anyone tell you that heartbreaks can’t kill you,” Kurt sighed. He remembered standing next to Finn at her funeral, thinking how he hadn’t loved as intensely as Carole and his dad. He had been dating a guy back then, and he almost immediately broke up with him when he returned to New York. It wasn’t love, and it had taken losing his stepmother to realize that.

“That’s so sad. I’m so sorry, Kurt,” Blaine mumbled, and instinctively reached a hand towards him. His fingers enveloped Kurt’s, squeezed them briefly in comfort, and then let go. Kurt followed the entire movement with his blue eyes, and couldn’t help but shiver when Blaine’s touch lingered a little longer before letting go completely.

“Thank you. It was… it wasn’t easy. It’s never easy to lose your family,” Kurt murmured.

“No,” Blaine looked down into his cup of coffee. “It’s not.”

“Do you ever…” Kurt interrupted himself, not sure if he was overstepping or not. But then Blaine looked at him, and he seemed so open, like there was nothing Kurt could say that he couldn’t take, that Kurt decided it was worth the risk. “You said your mom is mad at you because you’re still at the FBI. Do you ever think about quitting?”

“I can’t,” Blaine replied, not even hesitating for a second. “I understand her, I really do. I could be anything else in the world, but I chose to be an FBI agent, and… you know, sometimes this job means you die. It’s part of it. It’s not fun or nice or perfect, but it’s just the way it is. I could be a pizza delivery guy or a doctor or an architect or a teacher, but this is what I choose to be, every single day. It’s what I am. It’s who I am. And I’m not going to lie, it’s exhausting sometimes. It’s frustrating. In other jobs, if you make a mistake, you may get fired or suspended, but here… you make a mistake and you die. I understand her fear, but I can’t give up because of it. FBI agents can die on the job, but we save lives. I can’t imagine walking away from that.”

Kurt’s heart constricted in his chest. “You’re so…”

“Don’t say I’m brave,” Blaine cut him off softly. “It’s not about bravery. It’s about doing the right thing.” He took a sip of coffee, before he said: “The day my dad and Cooper died, we saved twenty four people. Who am I to play it safe when there are people out there who depend on me?”

“It sounds like an extremely difficult life,” Kurt commented, watching Blaine with a slight, worried frown. “Maybe even lonely.”

“It is,” Blaine nodded slowly. “But only because I haven’t learned how to have it all yet.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what to say to that. Blaine seemed suddenly distracted by the first rays of sunlight that had started caressing the horizon. Kurt watched as well, how the light gradually bathed the earth before them, and the sky started to become clearer, beautifully painted in strips of orange, pink and light blue. His hand still tingled with the memory of Blaine’s touch. He wondered what it meant.

Kurt tried to remember when it had been the last time he had seen a sunrise. He couldn’t think of a single morning that felt as special or important as this one. It was his first sunrise in Maryland, and it was also his first sunrise with someone who made him feel like he understood what his father and Carole had felt.

He wondered if that should have scared him, but now, in this beautiful gallery with a new day just beginning, he felt oddly at peace.

*

Blaine wasn’t sure how long they were sitting there together, without saying a word, but feeling completely at ease with each other. There was something about Kurt that made the rest of the world disappear, like nothing could touch him, like he was suddenly in a bubble where everything was wonderful.

He decided they could just stay out here in the gallery forever, so that feeling wouldn’t have to end.

He was about to offer Kurt another cup of coffee when his phone began ringing. He fished it out of his sweatpants’ pocket, and frowned when he saw it was Santana calling. It was still early, even early for someone as hard-working as Santana to already be at the office.

He saw Kurt sitting up straight, reacting to the worry in his own face as he accepted the call.

“Santana,” he said in greeting.

“Oh good, you’re up,” she said on the other end, and he could already perceive the tension in her voice. “I was afraid you’d be asleep, though knowing you, you have spent the past couple of weeks pacing around the ranch worrying about…”

“Santana, what’s wrong?” Blaine interrupted. When Santana rambled, things were serious.

She sighed, and her exhaustion was almost palpable. “He did it again, Blaine. He killed another girl last night.”

There was a bitter taste in Blaine’s mouth. It didn’t take long for him to recognize it as the taste of failure and disappointment. What the hell was he doing hiding in his family’s ranch while his team was out there trying to catch this bastard? He couldn’t keep sitting on his ass.

“Rachel and I think…” Santana paused, probably considering if it was wise to give Blaine more information when he couldn’t be more involved in the case. “It was just a few blocks from your apartment. He’s never operated in Brooklyn before. No one else thinks there’s a connection, but…”

“You two think he’s looking for me now?” Blaine said, confused. “Why would he…?”

“I don’t know, and I hope I’m wrong. I just… I thought you needed to know,” Santana said.

Blaine leaned against the balustrade and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry I’m not there. I should be with you, helping you…”

“I’m not calling to make you feel bad about not being here, Anderson. I’m calling because I know you don’t like to be left out. Captain Jones doesn’t even know I’m calling you, so don’t get me into trouble.” He could hear the exasperation in her voice. He missed her like crazy. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Blaine looked over his shoulder. Kurt was sitting on the edge of his seat, watching him and waiting for news. His face was vulnerable, his blue eyes so wide Blaine could have fallen into them. His hands were tangled on his lap, showing his anxiety.

He was exactly where he needed to be. Maybe he wasn’t running around the streets of New York City trying to catch the killer, but what he was doing was even more important than that. He was protecting something - someone - that really mattered.

When you love something, it’s not work. You take care of it, just because that’s what you do with the things you love.

Blaine felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He had no idea what was going to happen next, but he did know one thing: saving Kurt Hummel’s life was the most important mission he would ever have.

*