"Nine letters!?" This was too much for Diane to take in all at once.

"They came to the office first. You were still recovering and I didn't want to slow anything down. So I told Kurt." As Marissa spoke she could feel her voice becoming more tentative as Diane's expression dropped.

She stared at the counter, not realizing her knuckles were turning white with the sheer force of her grasp on the marble.

"And then we started getting them here. After the fourth one, I consulted an agent." Kurt continued cautiously, waiting for her to blow at any moment.

"An FBI agent?" She clarified, not raising her gaze.

"Yes. A friend of mine. I asked him to look into this guy and..."

"And what, Kurt. No secrets." Her eyes bore into his.

"And he's a suspected domestic terrorist." Kurt watched closely, gaging her reaction. A single blink was all he was allowed to see. Her stomach turned in somersaults.

"After his wife died, he went nuts. Fell into a bad place and took money where he could. The Damask Gang got to him and he started doing their dirty work. He's got access to hundreds of weapons." Marissa chimed in, helping to fill in the gaps. Though she wasn't sure that statement would put Diane's mind at ease.

Diane took a step away from the counter and transitioned into a pace. The severity of the situation setting in. This was her life they were talking about. Her life that was suppose to have been taken away a mere few weeks ago. If it hadn't been for Kurt's perfect timing, they wouldn't be sitting in this kitchen.

"They don't think his vendetta against you has much to do with the gang, but he's wanted for a lot of deaths. The FBI thought it would be best to put you under protection." Kurt wanted to get everything on the table, meanwhile kicking himself for not telling her earlier.

"Surveillance?!" Diane spun around.

"You didn't even notice them. They were just placed to keep you safe. And when the letters continued coming—"

"I started taking all of them to the lab for prints. But, so far, they can't find anything." Kurt finished Marissa's thought.

Diane, still absorbing, returned to her bar stool. She nodded slowly.

"What did the letters say?" She asked softly, her shaky voice unrecognizable to even herself.

Marissa and Kurt hesitated. He spoke first, "The first ones were direct threats to you. Describing..." he couldn't bring himself to finish.

"Describing what he would do to you if...you know." Marissa had dreaded this explanation.

Kurt stared at the counter. Diane slipped her hand into his urging him to continue.

"Then they got more specific. Like he was watching you. So I upped the security and was meeting with them today to discuss their plan on moving forward."

Diane's spine chilled and she visibly shuttered at the thought of her every move being monitored.

"So that's where I was today. I didn't think it would take all afternoon and I didn't mean to scare you."

Diane blinked and shook her head. She could not remember a time when she had felt that petrified. The feeling was sickening.

"That day that I went back to the office. When the two of you looked like you'd seen a ghost? I'd already gotten a letter?"

Marissa held up three fingers causing Diane's eyes to widen.

"And now this one." Marissa held up the newest envelope. Kurt quickly took it and ripped the side. Unfolding the letter, he scanned it, his expression turning glum.

"What does it say?" Diane inched closer.

Kurt looked over the paper and gave an audible sigh.

"It's about me." Diane snatched the letter from his grasp and felt her heart sink as she read.

I'm becoming impatient. I can't sit around all day and watch you prance around. You want this to go away. Fine. Let's make a deal. That husband of yours seems like a fair trade. A life for a life. Justice.

The sound of Baker's voice pounded through her ears. Justice. His last word before he thrust the cold blade into her abdomen. Dizziness set in and she held onto the island. Kurt was on his feet before she could think, steadying her body with one hand resting on her back and the other holding her shoulder. Marissa jumped up and poured a glass of water.

"Look, nothing is going to happen. We are under 24-hour protection and this damn fool wouldn't dare get close to you."

She hadn't noticed the tears pooling in her eyes until they spilled freely. "But it sounds like he's not afraid to come after you."

Kurt looked to Marissa who shrugged in empathy. "Could you give us a minute."

She gave a nod and took the letter into the living room.

"This is unfair to you," she whispered, "It's so unfair."

"He won't get to you. I won't let him." Kurt squeezed her hand and leaned in to find her eyes.

The guilt was unbearable. This never should have involved him. Diane sat up abruptly and pulled away. Standing and straightening her skirt, she wiped sharply at her cheeks. "You have to go."

She turned on her heels and headed for the bedroom.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt called after her, "Diane."

When he reached the bedroom, she was pulling out clothes from the closet and dresser. The pile on the bed was growing by the second.

"Woah, woah, Diane stop." Kurt approached her as she brushed passed him on the way to the closet once more. Another pile of shirts was tossed at the bed.

"You can't stay somewhere that isn't safe." The tears were back and her hands were shaking.

Kurt did the only thing he thought would help. He intercepted her next cross to the dresser and wrapped his arms around her. Stronger than she was, he was able to pull her close with barely any struggle. She resisted at first, whimpering at his contact, but finally relaxed into his embrace. Her knees could not hold the weight of her exhaustion and they buckled just as Kurt moved them to sit on the bed. She sat with a gasp and immediately sucked air through her teeth. Realizing she had twisted and disturbed her heeling abdomen, Kurt let her go slightly.

"Are you ok?" He squeezed her shoulders.

She started to nod, responding to the present question, but soon found herself shaking her head no. It was hard for her to distinguish what was shaking more; her hands, head, or thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere. That's final." Her head was resting against his chest as her body came down from its sudden adrenaline high.

Diane couldn't will herself to speak. Her breathing returned to her version of normal and the pain in her stomach caught her attention. Wincing, she sat up from his arms.

"I might have overdone it." She stood and moved to the floor-length mirror. Pulling up her shirt, the bruises were revealed, still every shade from blue to yellow. Her stitches, dominating the left half of her exposed stomach, remained intact. They would continue to dissolve as the weeks progressed, according to her doctor, but they provided a constant reminder.

Kurt's eyes followed her and soon his body did the same. Taking one wrist, he freed her from the mirror's reflection. Placing her on the bed, he began returning the clothes to their drawers and hangers. Diane watched her husband tidy up the carnage of her panic.

"I just can't watch you get hurt." She spoke after a few moments of silence.

"Who said anything about getting hurt?" He kneeled in front of the bed.

"We can't predict his next move. And if it was you I would never forgive my–"

Her sentence was severed by the sound of glass breaking in the kitchen. They froze, not breathing until they heard Marissa's voice, "Sorry! Trying to get another glass of water!"

Restarting their breath patterns, they started chuckling at their paranoia.

"Look at us," Diane remarked. Cupping his face, she continued as her smile faded, "This is fucking insane."