So sorry for the dalay of this chapter. Thank you, everybody who gave this fic a shot, and mostly special thanks to Nikki, who was the first one to read, edit and encourage me on the idea.

Here is Chapter 2, enjoy, again, I'd love to hear some opinions!

Days go by. Some minutes linger a little bit longer than others and some fly away like the flip of a switch. A relatively easy case followed by a really, really tough one, that hits quite close to home for the whole team – a terrorist, a sniper – brings back some bad memories. Kate barely gets home for a few hours to catch on some sleep and change clothes before getting right back to office. More than a week goes by without her having time to stop by her favorite coffee shop.

The morning she finally manages to get up just the right few minutes earlier, the sun is shining over the cold streets not giving them even a little of its warmth. Kate can see her breath when she steps out of the car, parked a few meters up the street, right in front of the building with the stone steps. No fancy skirts and heels today, though. She would never admit it, but she's been losing sleep after the sniper case. And when a woman has not gotten her beauty sleep… well, let's just say skirts and heels aren't her greatest priority. Coffee on the other hand definitely is.

Kate shivers under the layers of clothing when the change of the temperature gets to her. Quickly, she puts the collar of her coat up, desperately trying to conserve even the smallest bits of warmth that had soaked in her clothes in the car. Her eyes look absent-mindedly around the block as far as she can look. Subconsciously, she can feel something missing, but she can't quite put her finger on it, so she tries to dismiss it. With not much of a result, really, bit still, she tries. Her thought drifts towards the weather as she opens the door and lets the smell of fresh coffee and hot cocoa fill her lungs and soak in her dark brown hair. The young woman can hardly remember a day that cold in the near past, and she has seen some pretty bad Washington winters in her time.

So imagine her surprise, when she comes out of her favorite coffee shop just a couple of minutes later with her latte in hand only to find a certain man preparing his guitar on the steps next door. For a second, she's just too stunned to make a step further. Something in her brain starts ticking with irritation, asking her the one million dollar question – why the hell is she so surprised to see him and why does she care if he's there on not. The immediate answer popping states 'because he saved me from breaking something' but there is no logic in that because of the simple fact he was an ass to her. So why? Why indeed.

Just like that snowy day a week ago, he takes the musical instrument out of its once black case and takes it gently in his hands. Even watching from a distance, Kate can see the care he handles it with, like it's his most valuable possession. And maybe it is, she can't really know that, can she?

This time, he doesn't sit on the stairs – and really, she can understand that, she's already freezing and she's only been out a minute or so – and clearly the cold can erase all thoughts about sitting on a hard surface on the outside the moment they even appear in anybody's head. Instead of that, he stands up, wondering for a second about something, and then leaning back, his back and shoulders resting against the wall. She can see the hard breath he draws in before gently pulling at the strings.

She knows nothing about guitars, but standing there, listening to the soft tones that barely get to her ears appearing under his possibly freezing fingers, Kate can only regret she doesn't have that knowledge. Nevertheless, it's like the melody just finds its way on its own – from his heart, thanks to the guitar in the cold dirty city air that is hardly worthy of it, through the crowd, between all those faces of indifference and plugged deep in ears headphones, and straight to her. Agent Todd – the fearless, usually armed, professional and trained agent Todd, makes only the motions needed to move away from the way the crowd goes and stand in just the right distance to hear the song, but not to disturb the man.

He never lifts his eyes. He doesn't look at the strings he's pulling, it's as if he's looking at something long lost, something he can only touch with the power of the music and the song he's playing. Or maybe it's just all in her head.

As every good thing the piece ends with a final gentle touch of a string. Kate shifts her weight and slowly approaches the man.

Even when she's sure he can see her, he doesn't lift his head. So she's just standing there, her coffee getting colder by the second in her freezing hand, waiting for him to look up stubbornly. Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh and stops pretending he's applying setting to the instruments aside.

'What do you want, lady?' he asks, his voice colder than the chilly air.

Kate isn't taken aback at all by his rude tone, or if he is, she doesn't even blink to show it.

'That was beautiful' she states. With a surprise, she finds out her voice is a little shaky and the words go out of her lips a lot softer and lower than she wanted them to.

'Whatever, what do you want' is the only answer, she gets. Kate sighs. For some reason unknown to her, she's not letting this go.

'Would it kill you to receive a 'thank you' and a compliment like a normal person' – she speaks up before she even thinks about it. This, at least, makes him lift his head and look at her.

The curiosity, mixed with irritation and doubt is streaming from his cold blue eyes. It's hard to hold his gaze, but she manages to make through it. There is a flicker she thinks she sees in those eyes, surrounded by little wrinkles that reminds her a lot of her commanders – a look cold, but stable, a look of a man who can obey and give orders at the same time, but doubt them when he thinks they're not good and expect only respect and total obedience from the lower in rank.

'Why do you care?'

The words are spoken so low she almost misses them; they're barely a whisper struggling to get through the traffic noises and her ears. And maybe they're not even meant to reach her. But the question puts her in a situation she doesn't know how to get out of. Not really.

'Because I think you should know your music is beautiful' she says sincerely after a few seconds.

He scoffs with irritation shoving his hands in his pockets.

'How do you know it's my music' he asks with sarcasm in his voice, emphasizing "my".

She shrugs.

"I don't. But I've never seen someone playing something that isn't his own creation with such a passion"

His next words startle her with their hardness and coldness. His eyes had turned to ice ponds again:

'You should really mind your own business, lady'

With those final words he picks up his guitar and leaves just like last time. But this time, Kate is determined to find out who he is, because from what she's seen, he's not just another person, nor a street musician.

And then it strikes her – the manners, the talking, and the controlled eyes. That man either is, or was Navy. And Navy is definitely her business.