After Blaine told Kurt everything Santana had said, it seemed as if the day had grown cold. Kurt sat in the gallery, his arms around himself and looked at the distance. He was quiet, but Blaine could see a million thoughts crossing his stunningly blue eyes.

“That poor girl,” Kurt said at last.

“Well, Santana did point out one positive thing in this,” Blaine said, leaning against the balustrade as he continued studying Kurt. Kurt arched an eyebrow in question. “If he is still in New York and he’s back to his usual targets, it means he may have given up on you.”

He didn’t mention what Santana had said about the area the murder had taken place in. Kurt didn’t need to know about how close he’d been to Blaine’s apartment.

“How am I supposed to feel better?” Kurt sighed. “That girl is still dead.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Blaine murmured as he ran a hand through his dark curls. He sat down again, and leaned closer to Kurt. “Santana said Finn was at the bureau. He’s okay. He was going back home with Rachel soon.”

The corners of Kurt’s mouth tugged upwards. He knew Blaine was trying to cheer him up. “I’m glad he’s safe. That’s all I care about right now.”

“I know,” Blaine said softly. He took a deep breath. “Look, Kurt…”

“¡Buenos días!” A voice said, startling them both. They looked up and found Manuel walking towards them, the shepherd dog trailing behind him, her tail wagging happily. “Early birds. What are you doing up?”

“Just enjoying the fresh air,” Blaine replied. “Good morning to you too, Manuel.”

“Well, I’m happy to see you two together,” he said, not bothering to be subtle about it. “I was just coming to tell you that I will be going into town today. I’m visiting my son.”

“That’s fantastic,” Blaine smiled at him. “Tell Daniel I say hi.”

“I will, señor Blaine. Do you need me to pick up anything for you while I’m gone?” Manuel asked.

“No, we’re okay, I think,” Blaine shook his head, and glanced at Kurt. “Unless you need anything?”

“You should take him into town, have dinner at a restaurant, walk around a little,” Manuel interrupted. “What kind of romantic vacation is this? Treat your fiancé right, señor Blaine.”

Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Blaine was so red he was afraid his head would set on fire. “We like it here just fine, thank you.”

Manuel looked disapproving. “Ni siquiera lo lleva a cenar. Debería darle vergüenza, señor Blaine…”

“Manuel, you know my Spanish is not good enough to understand all of that,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes.

“Not my problem,” Manuel said, and Kurt looked ready to burst out cackling. Manuel really was sassy when he was in the mood for it. “I’m going now. You two have fun. Ramona, stay,” he told the dog, who obediently sat down next to Blaine.

They watched the old man walk to his old truck, and didn’t say a word until he was driving down the dirt road and getting lost in the distance.

“I love that man,” Kurt said, laughing. “He’s not afraid to speak his mind, huh?”

“Never was,” Blaine said fondly, scratching behind Ramona’s ears. “Would you like some breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’ll make the pancakes, you make more coffee?” Kurt said, as he stood up, and Blaine had to put all of his energy into stopping himself from reaching out for him, stroking his hair, pressing his lips to the perfect line of his jaw.

Instead, he just followed him back into the house.

*

After a breakfast filled with sneaky glances when they thought the other wasn’t watching, Kurt settled on the kitchen table with the typewriter and Blaine went outside to check on the animals and feed them in Manuel’s absence. Neither said anything, but they could probably use a few minutes of solitude to calm their racing hearts.

Something seemed to have shifted between them that morning, and they needed a moment alone to figure it out.

Kurt was struck by inspiration. He didn’t pause to truly think things through - instead, he typed as fast as his fingers allowed him to, pouring everything he was feeling onto the blank page before him. He had no idea if it was any good, but for now, what truly mattered was to get it all out.

His conversation with Blaine out in the gallery swirled around his head. He remembered his smile, the touch of his fingers, so gently and sweet. Blaine had opened up to him, and this time he had done it willingly, and not because Kurt had unknowingly stepped past his boundaries. But why? Why had Blaine decided to talk to him so candidly? Why had he shared his story and his memories with Kurt, after being so cold the past few days?

What had changed?

Maybe Blaine had realized that it was too hard to live together in this ranch ignoring each other. Maybe he had grown too lonely, and had decided it was better to reach for Kurt.

Or maybe… just maybe…

No. Kurt couldn’t go there. His life was already too complicated to allow himself to fall in love with Blaine. Agent Anderson. The man his life depended on.

His fingers stopped on the keyboard and he once again glanced at the page. His life had become so incredibly extraordinary that he wondered if he should have been writing about that instead. But no, he needed the comfort of losing himself in a fictional world, or putting his characters through issues he could actually find a resolution to. He had no idea how to fix his own life, not now, not when everything seemed to be hanging by a thread.

He had nightmares. He wasn’t allowed to go home. He couldn’t see his brother. He was having feelings he couldn’t act on for the man responsible for his safety.

There wouldn’t be a simple ending to his story.

*

Blaine hid away in the stable for a while. Feeding the horses, making sure they had enough water and brushing their manes gave him a perfect excuse to stay away from the house for a while. He told himself there was nothing unusual about the way his heart was beating, so fast it seemed ready to gallop off his chest.

There was something about Kurt… oh, Blaine had known love before. He had been an extremely lucky man who had known many types of love: the kind of love you can only get from a wonderful family; love from faithful and fierce friendships; real world-turning romantic love, the kind that had made him get down on his knee and ask his boyfriend to marry him. And it was so premature to call what Kurt made him feel love, but if it wasn’t it, then it was getting so dangerously close. With every conversation they shared, with every new piece of himself that Kurt decided to give to Blaine, with the way his blue eyes looked into his like there wasn’t anything else that mattered…

Too dangerously close.

Blaine had never needed to draw the line between his professional life and his personal life before. He had always known the limits, and he was proud to say he was a good agent. He knew the risks of getting involved with someone he worked with - whether it was a fellow agent or someone else involved in one of his cases. He had always been sensible.

But Kurt made him want to do crazy things. He made him want to forget the outside world, never go back to New York City, stop worrying about all the awful things that happened in the world every single day: he couldn’t catch every murderer, he couldn’t stop people from hurting, he couldn’t make everyone’s lives better by just snapping his fingers. It was a cruel, cold world out there and he had learned that the hard way. He had seen things he wished he could unseen. So what if the killer was still out there? Even if they caught him, there would be more. But he could close his eyes on reality, stay here with Kurt. Maybe, just maybe, if he had read the signs right…

Maybe Kurt wouldn’t mind staying here with him.

They could be safe. Together and safe. To Blaine, right now, that sounded like the best kind of paradise.

He leaned against the stable wall, and looked down at Ramona, who looked back at him as if seriously questioning his sanity.

“I know,” he murmured to the dog. “I am completely out of my mind. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this, it’s so…”

Unprofessional. Unreal. Impossible. He thought of a million adjectives, but he couldn’t bring himself to saying any of them. Because a part of him, one that he had buried down deep inside of him in the past months, craved it. He could imagine himself with Kurt - it was so, so easy to imagine it that it scared him, leaving him breathless - and he was so certain that the fire would burn so nicely between them. The chemistry was already there, they just needed to ignite the sparks.

Blaine banged his head against the stable wall, as if trying to force some sense back into himself.

“It’s just the isolation,” he said, and Ramona tilted her head at him. “We’re alone together, with nothing to distract us but each other. I’m sure Kurt wouldn’t even glance at me if he was safe, back in New York, and we were just strangers in the street. Right?”

The dog, of course, didn’t reply. She just started chasing her own tail, and Blaine groaned in frustration.

He left the stable. The sky was turning grey, threatening clouds gathering above the ranch and covering the sun. He could see through the kitchen window as he walked to the hen house. Kurt was sitting at the kitchen table, his fingers typing at the speed of light. His profile was elegant, sharp, like he had been carved out of the most precious material in the world. He was stunningly beautiful, and Blaine knew it wasn’t a product of the isolation: he would have been blinded by Kurt anywhere.

“No,” he told himself. “Stop it. You’ve just been on your own for too long. Don’t do this. Don’t make things worse, don’t…”

If love isn’t worth risking it all for, then what is?

“Damn you, Manuel,” Blaine muttered, and turned his back to the house so he wouldn’t see Kurt anymore.

Still, his heart kept beating out of control, as if it had been powered just by the sight of him.

Blaine did his best to ignore it.

*

Kurt looked up from the typewriter when Blaine walked into the kitchen a while later. It seemed like they gazed at each other for a few seconds longer than normal before either of them spoke.

“Hey,” Kurt said at last with a little smile. He gestured towards the fridge. “Are you hungry? Maybe I can make some sandwiches or something. We kinda skipped lunch…”

“It looks like it’s going to rain soon, so I was actually going to go for a run before that happens,” Blaine replied. “But you can go ahead and eat if you want…”

“Oh, no, I’m not that hungry,” Kurt shrugged and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Blaine did his best not to stare at the sliver of skin that was suddenly visible when his shirt rode up. “Would you mind if I join you? If I keep sitting here without doing anything, I won’t be able to fit into my costume when we go back.”

Blaine forced himself to remove his eyes from Kurt stomach and made them travel all the way up to his face instead. “Uhm, sure. I’ll go get changed into my work out clothes. Meet you by the door in five?”

“That sounds perfect,” Kurt said with a radiant smile.

When they met again, Blaine was wearing a ratty FBI shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that did wonders to highlight the roundness of his ass, and Kurt was wearing yoga pants, so tight that they left nothing to the imagination. Blaine had to be incredibly strong to keep himself from staring as they went out the door. Kurt, walking behind him, tried but failed. Agent Blaine Anderson was one hell of a piece of art.

It was true, the sky had grown grey outside. The clouds looked heavy, like they would collapse and fall upon the house any minute now. Kurt’s eyes stayed up, watching for any signs of rain, as he followed Blaine, slowly picking up pace.

It was difficult to keep up with Blaine at first. Kurt was athletic, he was in shape, and his body was used to being pushed to its very limits. But it had been a few weeks since his last workout, and his muscles were already feeling it. He could tell Blaine slowed down as not to leave him behind, and he appreciated it.

Blaine was fine for the first ten minutes. He enjoyed the breeze on his face, and the smell of imminent rain always put him in a great mood. But once those things stopped distracting him, he realized all he could hear was the sound Kurt’s breathing. The more they run, more he panted, and Blaine didn’t expect it to send a pang of arousal all through him. It was just breathing, what the hell was wrong with him? And then he made the mistake of glancing at Kurt to see if he needed to stop or run a little slower, and found a drop of sweat slowly making its way down Kurt’s neck and into the collar of his t-shirt.

Running had been a terrible idea.

Blaine stopped suddenly. He wasn’t tired - he was used to running longer distances - but he felt as if he would suffocate if he kept running. He doubled in half and settled his palms on his thighs, taking deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked, confused. “Do you need water or…?”

“I’m fine, just…” Control yourself, Blaine thought angrily. What are you? A teenager? “I just need a second.” Decomposing corpses. Roadkill. Bad breath. That time I chased that guy into a sewer and I had to shower ten times to get the smell off… “Okay, let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt tilted his head as he regarded him. “You seem a little weird.”

Blaine straightened up, and was about to reply, when there was a loud thunder that made both of them jump. Immediately after, it seemed as if the sky had suddenly cracked, and an extraordinary amount of rain began pouring on them. Kurt shrieked and covered his head, which was pointless because he was soaked in a matter of seconds.

“Let’s go back inside!” Kurt exclaimed, having to raise his tone to make himself heard.

Blaine simply nodded and turned back towards the house. They ran as fast as they could, the rain clouding their vision. Kurt almost slipped, and Blaine quickly reached out for him, holding his hand to keep him upright. Kurt’s fingers twined with his without a word, and they kept running like that, hands linked between them.

Blaine was grateful for the loud storm, because he was sure Kurt would have heard the wild beating of his heart otherwise.

By the time Blaine pushed the door open to slip inside, Kurt was laughing. It was a shocking sound - since they had arrived at the ranch, the general mood hadn’t allowed much laughter. But now it was coming out of him like the dam had broken and Blaine just stared at him, fascinated.

Kurt didn’t even know why he was laughing. He just knew he suddenly felt a lot lighter than he had felt in past few days. It was like the storm had washed away his doubts and fears. It wasn’t until he stopped laughing to catch his breath that he realized he was still holding onto Blaine’s hand.

“Oh,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Kurt, I…” Blaine said, his voice soft and quiet, like he was scared to break the spell that had fallen on them.

But before he could say anything, there was a loud pop and the lights in the house went out. They broke away merely out of surprise, as Blaine turned around.

“Oh damn,” Blaine said, and grabbed his cellphone from the coffee table to illuminate his path to the kitchen. It was so dark outside thanks to the storm that it seemed that the nighttime had decided to arrive early. “I should have some candles in the kitchen. Help me light them up? Hopefully the power will come back soon...” He glanced at the screen of his phone. “Looks like the phone service is down, too.”

“Does this happen often?” Kurt asked, as he followed him into the kitchen.

“Well, I haven’t come here in a while, but I remember it happening a few times when I was younger,” Blaine explained as he opened a few cabinets. “Yes, here they are.”

Kurt held Blaine’s cellphone up to provide some light while Blaine looked for the matches and candle holders. “Do we have enough candles? Should we save some for later?” He asked, and before Blaine could reply, he added: “Careful with the wa…”

“Shit,” Blaine uttered, as hot wax leaked on his finger.

“Are you okay? Let me see,” Kurt said, moving closer. “You’re pretty clumsy for a FBI agent…” he teased with a crooked smile.

“Oh shut up,” Blaine chuckled, as Kurt cradled his hand between his own to take a look. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Maybe you should run some cold water on it,” Kurt suggested, and when he looked up, they both realized how close they were again.

It was like they were sitting on a rollercoaster: they knew what was coming, and the adrenaline was high. There was a bubbling in their stomachs, anticipation becoming liquid inside of them and running through their veins. Kurt must have felt it burst first, because without looking away from Blaine’s eyes, he put his lips to Blaine’s hand and kissed the spot where the wax had landed.

Blaine’s breath stuttered in his chest. It was like his whole body was short-circuiting just from that simple touch. And that was enough to break the rest of his barriers.

He surged forward, his hands finding purchase on the sides of Kurt’s face and neck, drawing him closer as he pressed their lips together. Kurt was immediately grabbing him by the shirt, fists tight on his chest, as if he wanted to melt into him.

Blaine felt desperate. It was as if all his frustration and loneliness from the past year was suddenly being poured into the kiss. His lips closed around Kurt’s bottom one, sucking it into his mouth, grazing his teeth across it, eliciting the softest, most delicious moan from Kurt.

“Oh Blaine…”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Blaine murmured, allowing his lips to roam towards Kurt’s jaw and down the column of his neck. Everything about him was simply exquisite.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Kurt said fiercely, and buried his fingers into Blaine’s wet hair, urging him to go on.

Blaine licked the drops of water and sweat from his skin almost greedily. “You know this is crazy, right?”

“I like crazy. I live for crazy,” Kurt groaned, throwing his head back to give Blaine better access. “You drive me crazy. And now shut up and keep kissing me.”

“Mm, so demanding,” Blaine whispered, as he ran the tip of his tongue down Kurt’s neck, who shivered in response.

“I know what I want,” Kurt replied, his eyes fluttering close.

To his dismay, those words made Blaine pull away. But when he looked at him, he found nothing but the purest, most ardent desire in his whiskey eyes.

“What do you want, Kurt?” He asked, his lips already swollen from the kissing.

“This. You,” Kurt answered, shaking his head, his hands moving over Blaine’s shirt frantically, as if hesitant about whether he was allowed to remove it or not. “I know this is insane, and that we should stop but… god, I don’t want to.”

It was Kurt who moved forward now, capturing Blaine’s mouth in a searing kiss. The storm seemed to rattle the house, but neither of them noticed. They had forgotten about the power outage and the storm. They had even forgotten about the threat that had taken them there in the first place. Nothing else existed in that ranch anymore, except them and the million kisses they wanted to share.

Blaine had forgotten how beautifully consuming the fire of passion could be. With every kiss he burned a little brighter, pulled Kurt closer, tasted the sweetness of his mouth, the salty of his skin, and the sensuality of his every sigh, his every move. Kurt was like velvet in his arms, soft and pliant, molding himself against Blaine’s body like he wanted to become one with him.

Blaine felt his legs give a little, so he directed Kurt to the first available spot where he could find support. He dropped down on a kitchen chair and guided Kurt to sit on his lap, his long legs straddling him. He could feel Kurt was hard through the thin layer of his yoga pants, and for a moment, Blaine thought he was about to lose his mind. This man, this gorgeous, fearless, kind man wanted him.

“Your clothes are all wet,” Kurt murmured, as he peppered Blaine’s jawline with quick little kisses. “You should take them off before you get a cold.”

Blaine groaned as Kurt latched onto his Adam’s apple and began sucking lightly there. “So you want me to get off my clothes just because you don’t want me to get sick?”

“I’m a decent human being,” Kurt replied, his fingers already toying with the hem of Blaine’s wet shirt. “Plus, I may or may not want to kiss every inch of your skin.”

Blaine threw his head back. “Kurt. You can’t just say things like that.”

“Yes, I can. Watch me,” Kurt shrugged, tugging on the shirt to get it off. Blaine obliged, raising his arms above his head. Kurt discarded the shirt on the floor, his hands falling on Blaine’s chest. “Correction, I may or may not want to kiss and bite every inch of your skin.”

Blaine tried not to think about how long it had been since the last time he had had sex. Long enough to make him worry about this being over way too quickly. With the way Kurt was talking and moving, he wasn’t sure if he could hold back. He wanted to tear Kurt’s clothes off his body and touch every inch of him. He wanted to press him against a wall and kiss him breathless, rub against him until pleasure made them explode. He wanted to take him to bed and pound into him relentlessly, and then switch and let Kurt fuck him hard and deep, the way he had always liked it…

Blaine moaned and shut his eyes tightly. He needed to slow down or he would truly come embarrassingly fast. “Kurt…”

“Yes?” Kurt muttered, busy sucking the sensitive spot behind Blaine’s ear as he slowly started rocking on his lap.

But Blaine couldn’t remember what he was about to say. Instead, he reached for Kurt’s soaked t-shirt and tugged on it until Kurt raised his arms to let him remove it. Pressing their chests together without any kind of barrier between them threatened once again with sending Blaine right to the edge. But he swallowed, took a deep breath and looked into Kurt’s eyes, trying to ground himself.

“You look worried,” Kurt murmured, his thumbs tracing circles around Blaine’s nipples. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” It was hard focusing when Kurt was doing that. Everything was difficult when Kurt was so close to him. Blaine just wanted to let himself go, forget everything and surrender to these amazingly overwhelming feelings. “Is it okay if I do this?” He asked, as his hands moved to the waistband of Kurt’s yoga pants.

Kurt groaned, raising his hips immediately. “Yes. Please.”

They fumbled with each other’s pants, clumsily attempting to remove them while not breaking the heat between them. They were being silly, of course, because nothing could make the heat between them disappear. It had been simmering for the past few days, waiting for them to finally let it burst, explode, grow. And now it was inextinguishable.

There was no going back.

They were naked, pressed together, already panting and hard. Blaine was suddenly afraid to touch him - Kurt looked so perfect he was scared the vision would shatter before his eyes, that this would all be a dream. But then Kurt was kissing him again, his tongue asking for permission to enter his mouth, and Blaine was lost, completely lost to the sensations, the pleasure and the closeness.

As Kurt’s tongue teased his, Blaine wrapped his hand around their cocks, making Kurt gasp and rock against him. It was amazing to feel him hard and ready like this, to know Kurt wanted it as much as he did.

“Like this?” Blaine asked in a whisper, just as the house shook with another bolt of thunder.

“Yes,” Kurt answered, his hands going to Blaine’s shoulders as if looking for support. “God, Blaine, it feels so good.”

Blaine stroked a little faster, circling both heads with his thumb to gather the pre-come and make the glide a little easier. He loved the desperate little mewls that escaped from Kurt’s lips, the way he moved against him as if he couldn’t get enough. Blaine wished they had lube and condoms - using his hands - and mouth - wouldn’t be enough. He needed more. He needed everything.

The chair creaked under them as they both began to thrust against the other, eager for more. Blaine wasn’t sure where to look at: at Kurt’s face, an incredibly erotic view, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his brows furrowed in intense pleasure? Or down at his own hand, where his fingers closed around their cocks, so different from each other and yet fitting so well, it was like they were meant to be pressed together? Kurt’s cock was longer, leaner, its head so smooth it seemed as if it had been sculpted out of porcelain. Blaine wondered what it would feel like in his mouth, what sounds Kurt would make as he sucked him off…

It was too much. Blaine felt himself begin to shudder with the vibrations of his orgasm. It hit him like a freight train: it seemed to wake every single inch of his body, which had been dormant the past few months. His vision went white, and his hand loosened in its own accord. He felt Kurt taking over, stroking them both a little faster, trying to get there with him. His orgasm was painted with the sounds of Kurt’s harsh breathing, with the sharpness of his nails on his shoulder.

Kurt came suddenly, spilling all over Blaine’s chest with a loud cry. Just the sight would have sent Blaine over the edge again if he hadn’t been spent already. He watched as Kurt’s pleasure hit him, wave after wave, until he was soft and plaint against him.

“Okay?” Blaine asked in a low voice, hoping not to break the spell. His fingers buried in Kurt’s thick, wonderful hair, making him purr like a happy cat.

“No, not okay,” Kurt said. Blaine startled, his bliss starting to fade. But then Kurt smiled and leaned closer for one more kiss. “Perfect.”

The storm was relentless outside, but neither of them seemed to care.

*

As usual, Santana was one of the last people to leave the office that day. Brittany had come pick her up and they were going to have dinner at their favorite restaurant, relax, pretend there wasn’t a murderer on the loose, and live like a normal couple, for a change.

Santana was so happy to see Brittany waiting outside on the sidewalk, always radiant, with her hair in curls and a beautiful blue dress. How had she gotten so lucky?

They kissed in greeting, and Santana didn’t want to let go. What if they just spent the next few hours standing in the middle of a New York sidewalk kissing? She would be perfectly happy with that.

Brittany laughed against her lips. “We’re going to lose our reservation!”

Santana sighed, and reached into her pocket for her phone to check the time and reassure her wife that they still had plenty of time to get there. “We’re fine. And we could always order take out and make out on the couch instead…”

“We do that all the time. I want to go to Gino’s and eat all the breadsticks with that delicious dipping sauce that…” Brittany paused as Santana started frantically checking every pocket in her purse. “What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, I think I left my phone upstairs,” Santana said.

“Can’t you just leave it there until the morning?” Brittany asked, a little hopefully. Santana was rarely without her phone. It was like a marriage with three spouses, and one of them was electronic.

“You know I can’t do that, honey,” Santana said sadly. She was aware of how much she depended on the damn device, and how it upset Brittany sometimes. “What if Blaine calls?”

“Fine. Go get it, I’ll wait here,” Brittany gave her one more kiss and pushed her back towards the doors.

“Don’t you want to come with me?”

“If I go with you, you’ll find some file or whatever to be distracted with. This way, you’ll have to come back out right away. You wouldn’t leave your pregnant wife waiting alone in the streets for long, right?”

Santana chuckled. “You know me well. I’ll be right back.”

The elevator wasn’t as slow at this time as it was in the middle of the day with hundreds of agents coming and going. Santana enjoyed a moment of solitude and calm, and thought about her wife, and how lucky she had been to find her.

It didn’t last long. She knew something was wrong just as soon as the elevator doors opened on her floor.

She didn’t know what it was. But she could feel the tension growing in her, that sensation of wrongness taking over. She put her hand on the gun at her side, unclipping the holster to get better access.

As she moved farther into the bureau, she realized there was someone else there. And it shocked her to realize they were in her office.

Santana approached very slowly, making sure to walk from an angle where they couldn’t see her coming. Just as she was about to burst through the door, she heard someone talking, and to her very horror, discovered that she recognized that voice.

“Look, I’ve already told you. I just know it’s in Maryland, okay? I heard it in passing a few times, I don’t have the address. Yeah, it should be around that area but I don’t… yes, yes, I’m looking, but there’s nothing here…”

Santana walked into her office with her gun held firmly in her hand, and pointing at the man currently searching through the files on her desk. “Is there anything I can help you with, Agent Hart?”

Hart startled and dropped his cellphone. He paled: clearly he hadn’t believed he would get caught. “Santana, I…”

“I assume there’s a good reason why you are in my office when no one else is in the bureau,” Santana said, her voice firm and her eyes fixed on him. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she didn’t like it one bit. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” Agent Hart said too quickly. He shook his head. “I mean… agent Castro. We were talking about the case.”

“Pick up your phone, and give it to me,” Santana murmured, her eyebrow raised in a challenge. “Let’s talk to Castro, then.”

Agent Hart hesitated for a moment, then moved as if to pick up the phone, but instead stepped on it hard enough to break it. Santana bared her teeth and made sure the grip on her gun was strong enough in case a confrontation occurred.

“Who were you talking to, Bill?” She repeated. “If you make me ask you again, I’ll put a bullet in your leg and go call the Captain.”

Hart reached for his own gun and pointed it at Santana, but even though he was fast, she was faster. She knocked the gun out of his hand and kicked it under the desk, out of reach.

“Now you’re pissing me off and making me lose my dinner reservation with my wife,” Santana snarled. “You’d better talk or I’ll put so many holes in you, I’ll use you to strain my pasta.”

Agent Hart knew her well. They had been in Blaine’s team together since the beginning. He knew how fierce, how unstoppable Santana was. She wasn’t someone anyone could mess up with. And by how worried he looked, he seemed to realize he had no way out now.

“Who were you talking to?” She asked, as her finger slipped to the trigger.

“My brother!” Agent Hart exclaimed, recoiling towards the wall. “I was talking to my brother.”

“Your brother?” Santana was so surprised she almost forgot to keep the gun up. “Who is your brother and why were you talking about Maryland?”

“He wants the address to Blaine’s ranch,” Hart said, and every fiber in Santana’s body grew cold.

“Why would he want that?” Santana knew the answer, but she didn’t want it to be true.

“Because he’s after Hummel. He…”

“He is the killer,” Santana murmured. “Your brother is the killer.”

Agent Hart swallowed with difficulty. “Yes.”

“That’s how he always escaped, how he left no trails. You were helping him, weren’t you?” Santana was so mad she could have shoot him right there. How had they been so stupid?

“Please, I know you won’t understand, but… he’s sick. I never meant for so many people to get hurt. I was just trying to protect him,” Agent Hart held his hands up as if pleading with her, and Santana used the opportunity to get a pair of handcuffs from her desk and swiftly put them on him.

“By letting him kill all those women? By allowing him to escape from the FBI, to still be out there hurting even more people?” Santana said angrily. She pushed him onto her desk chair. “You filthy piece of shit. You never checked that security footage, didn’t you? You didn’t have to. You were the one who went through Sam’s stuff.”

“I’m not proud of what I did,” Agent Hart said. “I really do love being a FBI agent. But I love my brother more…”

Santana began to pace around the office. She was so mad she was scared she would actually shoot him in the face and get this over with. But there were so many things she still needed to understand…

“Why do you say he’s sick?” She asked.

“Because he is. He was diagnosed with psychosis and schizophrenia when he was a kid. My mother didn’t know how to deal with it, so she wasn’t around a lot, and it was just him and me. I did my best, but I was also a kid, I didn’t know how to… I just love him. He’s my brother.” There were tears in Hart’s eyes, but Santana wasn’t moved. No matter how tragic his story was, nothing justified what the killer had done. “He was in love with a girl in his class when he was fifteen. She had blue eyes and brown hair. There was nothing else he would talk about. His world revolved around her. And then he asked her out and she made fun of him in front of the entire school. He… he didn’t recover from that. He sees that girl in every woman with blue eyes and brown hair. I’ve tried stopping him, but…”

“The heart is not a random drawing,” Santana said suddenly, as the pieces fell into place. “It’s a signature. It’s a word play with your last name. Heart, Hart. The cocky son of a bitch…”

“I told him to stop doing that. I told him to stop everything, but… he just couldn’t control himself…”

There was a sound from outside the office, and Santana turned around just in time to see Brittany walking in.

“San, I knew you’d get distracted…” She looked around the office and paused. “What’s going on?”

“Britt, do me a favor and call Captain Jones,” Santana said, her eyes fixed on Hart. “Tell her to come right away.”

“But…” Brittany looked at Hart with her eyes open wide. “What… Bill…”

“Please, honey, just do as I say,” Santana said, her voice a lot softer. It hardened as she talked to Hart once again. “Where is your brother now?”

Hart looked even more nervous. “He’s… you won’t be able to stop him.”

“Just tell me where the hell he is,” Santana said, exasperated.

“He’s in Maryland,” Hart replied. “He’s going after Hummel. And Blaine.”

For the first time in her life, Santana was suddenly paralyzed with the most absolute, crippling fear.

*