Blake sank into the small loveseat with a sigh.

Kate popped her head around the corner, her hair swinging, and asked, "Everything all right, Blake?"

He looked up at her innocent face, and said quietly, "Yes, everything's fine. It's just a little hectic at work, is all." Kate walked up to him, her hips swinging slightly with how she walked, and sat on the loveseat next to him.

She cuddled up under his arm, and said quietly, "Well, tell me about it."

Blake absentmindedly wrapped his toned arms around her small frame, and began. "Well, we got some intel that there's going to be a weapons swap in a certain warehouse either tonight or tomorrow. If our people bust the place early, then we're going to scare the bad guys away. Too late, and another shipment of AK-47s and C4 gets on a ship heading straight for a terrorist cell."

"Ah," murmured Kate, snuggling into his chest. "As always, be-"

"Careful," finished Blake, smiling and kissing the tip of her nose. "I know." She looked up at him, and smiled. "You know," he said softly, picking up one of her slim hands and examining it carefully in the light, "I still don't know exactly how you figured out that I work for the CIA."

Kate laughed, a tinkling, musical sound that he loved to hear, and said, "Really, Blake, it wasn't that hard! You're gone more often than not, you can never give me any details about where you work at the 'Smithsonian', and I never got the names of anyone you worked with! All are signs that point to federal agent."

"And you still don't care?"

"No. In fact, I actually like it."

"What, you like all the secrets?" asked Blake, feigning shock.

Kate looked at him thoughtfully through gentle green eyes, and said, "You know, I like that you live life to the fullest. But with all the secrets... I could honestly care less. Some things are secrets that should remain secrets."

"Hm," responded Blake, smiling again and leaning his head down to press her lips to hers. She kissed him back, another smile spreading slowly across her face, and when they pulled apart she got up again, her wavy brown hair swinging over her shoulder.

"I've got to fix lunch," she said, with a flash of white teeth. She walked into the kitchen again, and left Blake sitting on the loveseat. He heard the slight clatter and banging of pots and pans, and then she called from the doorway, "Hon, do you know where the bowls are?"

"I think they're above the sink," he called back, chuckling. Since they moved here, Kate seemed to have a lot of trouble with where things were, particularly in the kitchen.

"...No, they're not!"

"Um... to the left of the stove?"

"... Got 'em!"

As Blake got to his feet to help his long-time girlfriend serve out their lunch, his phone rang. Not his normal cellphone; his work cellphone, the one that only his colleagues at the CIA knew the number to. And Kate, as well, but only for emergencies.

It was at his ear in a second, and he said, "Special Agent Kuusik," he muttered into the speaker. Kate, hearing the change in tone, walked back into the living room, frowning. She saw he was on his black phone, and sighed quietly. She went up to him and leaned against his chest, getting as close to him as she could. He wrapped his free arm around her, his expression suddenly growing disgruntled. "Right now?" Kate saw his face flash with exasperation, and grumbled, "All right, I'll be there in a few minutes." He snapped the phone shut agitatedly, and Kate sighed again.

"Work?"

"Unfortunately."

"Good luck. I love you." She stretched upwards to kiss him again, then got his jacket from the hooks by the door. She gingerly fit it onto his arms, and zipped it up his chest. Her hand went from his zipper to his face, and she stared deep into his brown eyes. "Be careful," she whispered again before stepping away, lowering her gaze. Kate was only too aware that one day, her honey might not come back from a job.

Blake walked back up to her, wrapping his toned arms around her waist, and kissed her again. She glanced up shyly, and nestled her head under his chin, in the hollow of his throat for a moment. And for a few mere seconds, they stayed that way, warm in each other's embrace. And then Blake Kuusik stepped back, touching his fingertips to Kate Välbe's cheek, and then he went out the door. She remained standing in the same place as she heard him start his Ford Fusion, and back out of the driveway before heading down the street. She sighed again, and went to put away the first bowl as well as part of the lunch that she had made for her and Blake.


Blake drove into Langley, and was stopped at the gate, as usual. He rolled down his window and handed the woman his badge for her to inspect, and waited patiently while the man with the dog went around his car. She handed the badge back to him, and stood out of his way, saluting.

"Have a nice day, sir," she said tonelessly, and the barrier lifted. Blake Kuusik drove under it, slowing for the speed bump, and parked in a space outside one of the buildings.

"Home sweet home," he muttered to himself, grimacing, and he walked in. As he did, another person fell into step beside him. Looking to the side, he said with some surprise, "Hey, Lacey."

"Blake," she greeted, her face turning annoyed. "Exactly why they have to yank me in here when I'm about to eat lunch..."

"I feel your pain," Blake complained, rolling his eyes. "Something about weapons for Al Quaeda?"

"That's what I heard. Wonder what Diane wants this time?"

The pair walked through the CIA, and went up to the fourth floor. They walked into the squadroom, and then up the short flight of stairs to the meeting room. Blake knocked briefly, and then walked in. Diane Summers, the director of the CIA, was already standing there, as were two other team leaders; Ty Jones and Hunter Smith.

When Blake and Lacey had sat down in two of the chairs (Blake resigning himself to a boring meeting), Diane herself sat down in the chair at the head of the long wooden table, and began.

"We have recieved intelligence that Al Quaeda has arranged a weapons transfer with a certain man, John Miller," Diane said, spreading out the papers from the folder in front of her. She slid a few down the table, and the team leaders began to look at them, examining the information on them before passing them on.

Blake got one that said, Recent Activity. He glanced at it, seeing records of several legal transfers, as well as a list of places and dates. He handed it to Hunter, and when she had looked at it she handed it down the table to Ty. Blake listened impatiently to the rest of Diane's speech, and focused intently on her instructions.

"Kuusik! Take your team and go around the west side of the warehouse. Rutel! Take your team around the north side. Jones, the south side. Let's go, people, we need to bust this swap!" Blake rose quickly, striding out the door. He went down the short flight of stairs, going to the cluster of four desks on the far left side of the squadroom.

"Prince! White, Jacobs! Grab your Sigs and get a vest from the storeroom; we've got an illegal weapon sale to stop."

Blake opened a large drawer in his own desk, pulling out a Sig Saur, and the three members of his team followed him.

"Where are we going?" asked Edward Jacobs, the senior member on Blake's team.

"Don't you listen?" grumbled Maria Prince, shouldering him aside to follow Blake.


Kate sat down on the couch, placing her laptop on the coffee table, and opened up a WordPad window. She sighed, thinking for a second, and then began to type. She wrote and wrote, her fingers flying across the keyboard, her eyes suddenly shining with inspiration.

Lisa sighed exasperatedly before placing her hands on the sides of Tony's face. "Why do you have to go?" she whispered. "I don't want you to leave."

"I have to," he replied gently. "But I swear to you I'll be back."

She thought about the words an instant before they appeared on the computer screen, typing from the heart. She wrote several pages, six thousand words, before leaning back against the couch with a long sigh. Kate loved to write, and had finished several books before, but had not dared to send in the manuscripts to a publisher.

Looking out the window behind her, she sighed deeply again, wondering where Blake was and if he was okay.


Silently, Blake made a small forward hand movement to the sniper on the roof, and to his team, just around the other corner. They nodded once, and then he went to the door. He took one small breath, then threw his leg and full body weight against the door, breaking it in.

"CIA! Don't move!"

He nearly screamed the words at the seven or so men standing in the warehouse, next to several large crates. They instantly aimed a couple automatics at his men before the other teams burst in from different entrances, and the Iraqui men looked around, panicked.

They lifted their autos, ready to fire, but before they could Blake fired his Sig at one, killing him. The others looked at their fallen comrade, and glared at the agents. Then, they slowly lowered their guns to lay them on the concrete floor.

Blake motioned for them to kick them over to his team, and when they did, he told Paul White to get them. When they had been confiscated, he walked up to them, and fixed his set of handcuffs behind the back of one of them.

"You're under arrest," Blake Kuusik told them as his team and the other ones quickly apprehended the Iraquis. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attourney..." he continued, and the Iraqi threw him another dirty look.

Sometime later, of course, it was discovered that though John Miller was there and was swiftly put in an observation room, the leader of the Iraquis, however, was not.


Kate balled up under the sheets, and shivered once. Ordinarily, she'd have Blake's warm, muscled arm around her, keeping her warm, holding her close, and comforting her, but tonight he was kept at his job late. But a shipment of Iraqi weapons was a serious matter, she knew. Of course, that didn't mean she had to like it.

She was just drifting to sleep when she heard a slight thump. Her green eyes flew wide, startled, and she blinked. She sat up carefully, and listened. She heard slight shuffling noises, as well. Kate glanced at the clock; 11:30. Blake would normally be home by now. But... somehow, this was quieter than Blake would normally be. He just wasn't this soundless, particularly not through the house they shared. She frowned, reaching for the .22 she kept in her nightstand, and aimed it silently at the doorway. If it weren't Blake, there was a good chance she would shoot. After all, she did work for the CIA occaisonally, hacking enemy electronics. This made her a target.

Several men in black suddenly burst into the bedroom, and they held several semi-autos. She started shooting, aiming for the head. Kate managed to down two of them before a couple more came in, dragging her from the bed.

She screamed loudly, and kicked viciously at one's face. His grip on her arms slackened, and she scrambled to the other side, heading for the window. But one snatched her ankle, and she tripped, grabbing at the other nightstand. The hand jerked her back, and the nightstand was knocked over. Kate reached at the bookcase as she was pulled past it, and it toppled over onto her attacker. Rushing back to the window, she tried to open it, but by that point the other black-clad men were on her again. How many of these people were there?

She had just drawn breath to scream again, hoping a neighbor might hear her when a black-gloved hand suddenly slapped across her mouth. She felt a small, sharp pain in her upper arm- it felt like a needle or something- and almost immediately she began to get drowsy. Her head lolled, and her eyelids drooped tiredly. And a swirl of blackness clouded her vision.


Blake pulled into the garage, and locked his Fusion, then trooped into the house from the back door. But it was wide open. Frowning, he went a little further. Everything seemed to be alright, but... the house felt... empty, cold.

"Kate?" he called. She slept light as a cat, and this would wake her. When he heard absolutely nothing, he walked quickly to the bedroom, and stopped in shock. For a few moments, he was left to survey the scattered scene before him.

The covers of the bed were rumpled and flipped over, and the lamp on one of the two nightstands was on the floor, the bulb broken. But it got worse. The other nightstand was knocked over entirely, and one window was partially open a few inches. To add to that, the dresser was crooked and the bookcase had been completely toppled over. Looking down, Blake saw with disgust that there was a slightly damp pool of blood under his boots.

Whipping out his black company phone, he quickly dialed the emergency number, and said quickly and angrily into the reciever, "This is Special Agent Blake Kuusik. I need a team at my house immediately, my girlfriend, Kate Välbe has been kidnapped."

Within mere minutes, several cars were there, including a 'company van'. It was a bit of an inside joke, as the van was a burgundy color and was one of those working vans. It had no logo. The scientist took a sample of the blood while junior members of the CIA snapped pictures of the scene. Blake paced impatiently and agitatedly outside on the sidewalk. His team was there, but not one of them dared to say a word to him, because they had never seen him like this. They had seen him irritated, angry, even, but he was livid.

Lacey walked up to him, her face apologetic, holding a small tape recorder.

"Blake, I'm sorry, but I am going to have to ask a few questions."

"Go ahead," he snarled, barely sparing her a glance as he continued his pacing.

"What did you see when you got home?"

"I parked. I went inside, it felt empty. I called for Kate, heard nothing, and went in the bedroom where I found... that," he finished irritably, not pausing in his pacing. He was furious, Lacey could see, and she had never seen him like this.

"Did you touch anything?"

"Yes." When he said nothing more, she prodded further.

"What did you touch?"

"I saw shell casings by her side of the bed. I picked them up to count them, and tried to avoid the blood. There were four casings that I found."

"I see," she said tentatively. When she did not ask anything else, he turned his livid brown glare to her.

"What, no more playing interrogation?" he snapped at her.

"There are no more questions to ask," she replied heatedly. "Now stop acting as if it's all our fault! We're trying here, Blake. Cut us some slack."

"Then try harder!"

"Listen to me, you damned idiot! We are doing all we can. You can't help, because you're involved. If you don't like it, you can take it to the Director!" she spat at him, her blue eyes flashing.

"Maybe I will," Blake said quietly, striding quickly over to the silouhetted figure of the director, who was standing in the lit doorway. Lacey couldn't hear his words, but she could hear his tone, and see his gestures.

His voice sounded agitated, then angry at her response. She seemed to be keeping her temper, and his edge disappeared. It was pleading, now, and his hand suddenly went up, clutching at his forehead. Diane Summers' voice seemed to be reasoning, and then he walked back over.

He sat on the edge of the sidewalk, his hands seemingly ready to rip his hair out by the roots. Lacey sighed, knowing there was nothing she could really do for him right now, and walked back to the van.

Blake stayed in that position nearly until the CIA left, though one or two agents hung out nearby as backup in case the people came back. One of the agents told him that with the way the lock was picked, it was likely the missing leader of the Iraqi group with the weapons sale. Blake stood angrily, stalking towards his car. They didn't know where he was going, but nobody tried to stop him.


When Diane went back to the office with a few of the agents, she sighed, and said, "Rutel, put one of your team with forensics. Jones, one or two on tracking Kate Välbe's phone through GPS. Smith, get one of your team on organizing a file for a missing persons report." She walked up the few stairs to her office, which lay above the squadroom, and sat down tiredly at her desk. It was a few moments before she saw that two things, out of place, lay on the brown surface; a badge and a black cell phone.

"Shit!" she cursed, running back to the squadroom. "He's gone after them himself," she muttered furiously. "He'll get himself killed! Jones! Put your team on tracking Kuusik's backup cell, now! Rutel, Smith, get your teams over here! We're going after Kuusik! Stupid damned son of a..." Diane trailed off, cursing quietly to herself, and called, "Get to the warehouse! The stuff is still there, that's where he'll be!"

She jumped in a Charger, and a couple agents hopped in with her. She hit the accelerator, and they raced out of the multi-level parking garage, the engine snarling like a big cat.

Within minutes, they pulled up outside of the warehouse. There was a silver Ford Fusion parked outside, the door still hanging open. Since she was wearing heels, one of the other agents kicked in the temporary door, and they raced in, shouting, "CIA! Drop your weapons or we shoot!"

Blake was standing there, pointing his Sig at the leader's head. The leader stood about fifteen feet away, partially shielded by Kate Välbe, held hostage, and had a gun at her temple. Blake did not look at the director, but she could see from this angle; his face was furious.

"Stop, or I kill!" the leader called in broken English, jabbing the point of his handgun into Kate's head. She gasped in terror, her eyes not leaving Blake's face.

"Dammit, guys, back off!" The enraged snarl came from Blake, and Diane spoke as calmly and soothingly to him as she could manage.

"Kuusik, we'll handle this. Just put the gun down so he won't shoot her."

"No! You don't understand! If I lower my Sig, he will kill her."

"If you don't, he will."

"Shut up!" he hurled at the director. His brown eyes focused intently and irately on the Iraqi leader, and out of nowhere, Blake pulled the trigger.

For a moment, there was simply silence. And then the agents realized with a murmur of respect that he had pegged the leader in the very center of the forehead. The man in white robes tumbled back, and Kate fell to the concrete ground, sobbing in fear and relief.

Blake dropped his gun at once, not even attempting to pretend that he was still a threat, and raced over to Kate, and put his arms around her. She trembled terribly with exhaustion and stress, and just cried into his chest. He spoke to her softly, and stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort, and held her close.

"Easy, now, it's okay. I won't let anything hurt you ever again, I promise. Nothing is going to hurt you now," he crooned in her ear, one hand on her neck and the other on her upper back. She scrunched her arms against her chest between then, and just sat on his lap, tears falling down her face, not saying a word.

The agents reluctantly confiscated his gun, and went up to him. He looked up at them, Kate crying into his shirt, and said softly, "I will go with you, I won't resist. I give you my word as a former CIA agent. Just please give us a minute." Some of his former team was there, and they respected that. Blake gently helped Kate to her feet, and just held her close for several minutes while she cried herself out.

"I... I didn't know if you... you were going to come," she babbled, her green eyes wide with terror.

"I will always come, Kiisu," he murmured softly. "Always." Blake used his pet name for her, from the origin of his birth. His parents had been Russian, hence his last name, but he had been born in America. He used the word that, in Russian, meant kitten.

He looked up at the agents now, and keeping an arm around her shoulders, said, "Please make sure she gets proper care. I won't have anything less for her." They nodded, and reluctantly handcuffed him. But with Kate, they had more trouble.

"No!" she whispered in fear, clinging to him. "I won't leave. You can't leave me! Please!"

"Is it possible to let her come?" he asked Diane quietly. She hesitated, but agreed. There was really nothing against it.

And so Blake and Kate rode in the back of the squad car together, Kate's head in his lap. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he just let her rest. His hands were behind him, so he could do nothing more to comfort her.


When they arrived at headquarters, he was moved to the first interrogation room, while Kate was transferred to a place where she could get some water and food while under the watchful eyes of two agents.

Lacey was the one to interrogate Blake, and she was clearly uncomfortable with the fact.

"Treat me as you would any other person," he told her calmly. His face was easy, comfortable. This didn't make it any easier.

"... If you say so. Tell me the whole story, from the beginning. And remember, you're on film."

She gestured at the camera in the corner, and Blake nodded, beginning where he had gotten in his car to leave the house.


Kate sat against the wall, gently rocking herself. Her legs were pulled up against her chest, and her chin rested on her knees.

"When will he be out?" she asked the agents again, and once more they replied in the same tone they had before.

"Soon." Kate closed her eyes in defeat. She needed Blake, needed to be close to him, needed his comfort.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Lacey Rutel walked out, escorting Blake. His handcuffs were off. He reached up with a hand, gently touching Kate's cheek, and then looked at Diane and the rest of the squad leaders as they slipped out of the observation room.

"You're free to go," she told Blake, and she was clearly happy to say so. "But I'm afraid that we'll have to go through a whole new rigamarole if you want your job back; you'll have to reapply. A new polygraph, interview, everything." Blake smiled serenely, and pulled Kate to him, slipping his arm around her waist.

"I think I will," he replied, looking down at her face. "But before anything else... can I please have what was in my pocket when you confiscated it?" he suddenly asked the others, looking up at them.

"You mean this?" asked Hunter, grinning. She flipped him a small black box, no more than an inch square, and he caught it.

"Thanks," he said. Kate had no idea what all the smiling was about, either, but she hoped that they could go home soon. "Now, Miss Kate Välbe, would you come with me to the squadroom?" Confused, Kate nodded, and followed her boyfriend into the room with all the desks.

Every agent was there, having heard about Blake, but had no idea what was happening. "If you would stand here..." Blake placed Kate on the middle of the platform in front of Diane's office, at the top of the stairs, and went around to face her.

Kate gasped as he went down on one knee, and the entire squadroom went dead silent.

"Kate Välbe," Blake began, a slight smile on his face, "I have known you for four years now. And I think that tonight has proven how I feel about you." Pulling out the black box, she suddenly understood. "Kate... will you marry me?" He opened the box, and Kate's eyes widened. There was a simple gold band, with three diamonds on it; one large center one, and two small ones on the side.

In wonder, she slipped her right hand forward, sliding the ring onto her fourth finger of her right hand. She marveled at it, her green gaze seeing the different facets of the crystals.

Suddenly. Ty hissed in her ear, "Say something!"

"Oh!" she gasped, smiling as a blush crept over her cheeks. "Um... I do."

She jumped nearly a foot in the air at the unexpected cheering that enveloped the squadroom, and she threw her arms around Blake's neck as he stood. He placed his hands around her lower back, his gentle, kind brown eyes so different from the fury that had been in them only hours before, and he kissed her.

He lowered his face to hers, and then unexpectedly swirled her around. The cheers intensified, and several phone cameras clicked, but the pair didn't hear them, surrounded as they were by their own little sphere of happiness. And then Blake breathed a few words in her ear that even she found it hard to catch...

"I will love you for always and forever, my Kiisu, my Kate. Always and forever."


Alrighty, readers, I just want to make a quick note here. For anybody who got offended with me using an Iraqui for the weapons sale, I sincerely apologize; I wasn't trying to be racist or anything. I hate racism, for the record. But again, if you got a little offended, I sincerely apologize. It wasn't my intention, I just tried to make a sort of thing that the CIA would have to stop. ^^

I hope you enjoyed. :)