Thanks to Steph, Becky, and Ciara32 for looking at this.

Thirteen—Proposals

"I know, I know, I'm late.  Sorry."  Madison dashed up the steps and fumbled for her apartment key.  "Give me twenty minutes, and I'll be ready."

Christopher looked at his watch as he stepped away from her door.  "We have to leave in exactly twelve—no, eleven—minutes or we lose our dinner reservation."  He gave her a pointed look.  "What took you so long anyway?"

"A meeting at work ran over," she said truthfully as she turned the key in the lock and rushed inside, haphazardly throwing her purse down on the sofa.  "It was a last-minute thing, or I would have told you at lunch to reschedule our reservation."

He sighed.  "Ten minutes," he reminded her, tapping his watch.

"Sit.  Watch tv.  And tell me when I've got three minutes left, 'kay?"  She kissed him quickly and pushed him down on the couch, handing him the remote.  "You'll be amazed at how quickly I can get ready," she promised as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

"We'll see about that," he called out.

Whew.  Madison leaned against the closed door for a few seconds, trying to get her overactive mind to slow down.

The last six weeks had flown by as she threw herself into her job with an intensity that had surprised some and worried others.  She and Burke had been together nonstop since her breakdown after her father's death; it was difficult to break away long enough to meet with her handler.

Or talk with Jack.

Her conversations with him had certainly been a surprise, she reflected as she dabbed foundation on her face.  After Irina's escape—if that's really what it was—Jack had met with her a few times, acting as part father figure, part mentor . . . part I-can't-believe-I'm-helping-someone-on-a-swallow-mission.

She couldn't help but wonder why he had decided to speak with her that first time.  The look on his face was far from pleased as he told her he was available to talk if she needed to discuss her op.  In fact, it looked more like—but no.  That wasn't possible.

It was insane.  Highly unlikely.

Or was it?

She stopped, the powder puff falling on to the counter as she recalled the last time she had spoken with him.  By week five of Irina's escape, Madison finally felt comfortable enough with Jack to say the one thing that kept coming to her mind as she reviewed all of her conversations with Irina, as she recalled every scrap of information she had read or heard or witnessed about Jack, Laura, and Irina.

"I—I think she really did love you.  Irina."

He was silent for several minutes.  "I know," he said finally.  "I know."

Her eyes grew wide as she contemplated this new theory.  If Irina loved Jack . . . and it sure did look like Jack loved Irina too . . . and Jack was talking to her practically against his will . . . had Irina asked him to speak with her in her absence?

It was almost sweet.  Touching.

For a wanted terrorist on the loose, at any rate.

"Seven minutes," Christopher yelled from the living room.

"I said a three minute warning, not seven," she yelled back as she finished applying her eye shadow.  "Are you sure you want to go out tonight?  I know you're missing your game."

"I'm taping it," he said distractedly.  "Six minutes."

She closed the mascara tube and grabbed her hair brush.  "Okay, one more time for the slow scientist."  She exited the bathroom and walked back to the living room.  "Three minute warning.  Three.  Not ten, or seven, or six.  Three.  Got it?"

"Not now, Maddie."  He waved her away.  "They're interviewing—"

She screamed.  "I could kill you right now," she muttered.

He looked up long enough to laugh at her.  "Right."  He glanced at his watch, then looked at her.

"Going, going," she fumed as she slammed the bedroom door behind her.

It was really difficult to pick out the perfect outfit—to quickly pick out the perfect outfit, she amended—when her mind was busy selecting the best way to throttle her target.

God, she needed a vacation.

"Like that's going to happen anytime soon," she muttered to herself.  They were gleaning more intel every week, but they were no closer to their goal of finding the weapon.  Rumor had it that it was being used on people already, which had dozens of agents scrambling.  What was Kelley Laboratories testing before they sold it on the black market?

Madison rummaged through her closet as she reflected on that afternoon's meeting.  All the players were there.  Devlin.  Kendall.  The unknown Agent Bentley, who had supposedly recommended her for this op.  She still wasn't sure she had met him before today.

Isabel.  Ashley.

But no Jack.

"He's attending a funeral," Devlin had explained.

"An agent's wife was killed the other day," Ashley had elaborated.  "You know.  The car bomb that got all the news coverage?"

She cursed under her breath as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.  I forgot to ask her about Fiona again.  This was only the second time she had seen her friend since her return from Maryland.  Three weeks earlier both were too busy hugging and crying to think about work as they relived the funeral in the privacy of a conference room.

Today Madison had been busy avoiding the looks her two friends kept shooting her way as Devlin informed her about recent surveillance footage of Burke.  They all knew what this meant, where this was leading . . .

Knock, knock.  "Three minutes," Christopher said cheerfully on the other side of the door.

She discarded this latest outfit and returned to the closet.  "Thanks," she called out.

Two minutes and forty-five seconds later she reappeared in her living room.  "Shall we?"

Christopher looked up from the television screen.  "I'm impressed.  I didn't think that you would—whoa."  He stared at her as she blushed from the scrutiny.  "You look beautiful."

"It's just a really nice dress," she said, dismissing the compliment.

He shook his head as he turned off the television and stood to join her.  "I wasn't talking about the dress.  I was talking about you."  He gazed at her.  "Your eyes."

"What about them?" she asked nervously.

"They're so expressive—I just feel like I can see all the way to your soul."

That can't be good, she worried as they left her apartment and began the drive to the restaurant.

*****

"I'm glad we made it here on time," Madison said later that evening.  She was finally trying to relax.  It's obvious that Devlin was exaggerating, she thought with a sigh of relief.

"It has been a wonderful evening, hasn't it?" Christopher grinned at her.  "But then, I feel like I've had ten weeks of wonderful evenings with you."

She looked up at him, her heart pounding.  "It's hard to believe we haven't even known each other three months," she said conversationally, hoping that she was making her point clear.

"But it seems like longer than that, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," she reluctantly admitted.  "It does."

She stared as he pulled a small box out of his suit jacket, as he began what was obviously a long and well-rehearsed speech.  She could only hope she was smiling and nodding in the correct places.

All she could hear was Devlin's voice echoing in her mind.

"We propose that we step the mission up a notch.  You can't just be the girlfriend anymore, Grace.  It's time to move in for the kill."

"Are you paying attention?" Christopher interrupted.

She looked up at him guiltily.  "I was just thinking about all of our wonderful times together, like you were saying," she smoothly lied.

He ran his fingers through his hair.  "I rehearsed this whole speech; can you tell?"  She giggled, and then stopped when he grabbed both of her hands and turned serious.  "Madison, I love you.  I know we haven't known each other long, and most people would find this crazy.  Heck, normally I would find this crazy, but somehow, with you it's different.  I don't want to wait any longer to ask you.  Madison Greene, will you marry me?"

Her eyes widened involuntarily at his final words.

"It's time to move in for the kill."

She swallowed and pasted on what she hoped was a smile.

"Yes!" she squealed.  "Yes, I will marry you."

It's time to move in for the kill.

tbc