The year had passed in a blur of Bureau operations, shifting corridors, and moments stolen between missions. It was 1983 now, and despite everything—despite the chaos of the Oldest House, the threats that loomed in the dark corners of reality—Trench had found something solid, something real. Kate Johnson.

She was in the kitchen when he got home, humming along to a song on the radio, her back to him as she stirred a pot of something that smelled rich and warm. The sight of her—so at ease, so effortlessly a part of his world now—hit him in a way he wasn't used to. He'd spent so much of his life wrapped in duty, in secrets and danger. But here, with her, it was different. It was something he never wanted to lose.

He had the ring in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for a week now, waiting for the right moment.

Kate turned, catching sight of him in the doorway. "Hey you. Thought you'd be late tonight."

"Wrapped things up early," he said, stepping closer, sliding his arms around her waist. "I figured home was a better place to be."

She smiled, leaning into him. "I won't argue with that."

He felt the steady rhythm of her breath, the warmth of her against him. He could hear the song on the radio—a ballad, something soft, something that made the world feel smaller, quieter. And suddenly, he didn't see a reason to wait any longer.

"Kate," he said, his voice quieter now.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her brow arching slightly. "What is it?"

For a moment, words failed him. He wasn't good at this. He was good at command, at strategy, at reading between the lines of Bureau reports and classified documents. But this? Standing here, heart hammering, wanting more than anything to ask her to share a future with him? It was a different kind of challenge altogether.

So he did the only thing that felt right.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the small velvet box, and opened it between them.

Kate's breath hitched. Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting, but she didn't speak.

"I know our life is... unconventional," Trench said. "And I know the Bureau isn't exactly a stable foundation for a future. But you—being with you—it's the best thing I've ever had. The best thing I'll ever have. And I don't want to lose that."

Kate exhaled a soft laugh, something caught between disbelief and joy. "Zachariah Trench, are you actually proposing to me in our kitchen?"

He chuckled, a little nervous now. "I thought about something more elaborate, but, well… this felt right."

She looked at him for a long moment, then at the ring. And then she smiled, the kind of smile that made all the shadows of the Oldest House feel distant.

"Of course, you idiot," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yes."

Relief flooded through him as he kissed her, as she laughed against his lips, as the world outside their little apartment faded away. There would be more missions, more dangers, more long nights navigating the mysteries of the Bureau. But for now, for this moment, all that mattered was the promise they had just made.

And for the first time in years, Trench felt like he had something to fight for that wasn't just survival. He had a future.