Author's Note: Help... I can't stop chasing random plot bunnies!

"You can't have it both ways," Remi said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Weller. "You say I'm your wife and that you love me, no matter what memories I have, but when it comes to this, you're treating Remi and Jane like two different people."

Kurt groaned, picking the pillow and blankets he'd been using off the couch and putting them back in the corner of the room. It had been almost a week since he'd caught up with her and put her under house arrest, effectively fucking up all of her plans. If that wasn't bad enough, he wouldn't share the bed with her—not that he would have had a problem keeping his hands to himself while he was awake, since he'd been keeping himself at a distance. But once he was asleep, or first thing in the morning, while he was still half drowsing, he would put his arms around her and cuddle.

She loved it, though she hated herself for doing so. And when it was early morning, and he'd rub his hard cock against her ass as he spooned up against her…

It was a relief to not have to pretend to be Jane anymore, but she really missed Weller's cock.

Remi sat down on the couch he'd just cleared, trying not to squirm at the images her mind had just come up with. "You're not going to discuss this with me?"

"I need coffee first," he mumbled, running his fingers through his mussed hair. "And you need your tracker drink."

Sighing, Remi took the bottle he held out. It looked like plain water, but according to Nas from the NSA, this stuff made her visible by satellite, wherever she went. Which would make it really hard to slip out of view and continue her resistance of the US government—she'd already tried it twice, and both times, Weller had found her within thirty minutes. For now, she was biding her time, waiting for the Feds to show their hand.

And she couldn't even get laid to alleviate her boredom.

"So explain your logic to me," she demanded, watching him pour his coffee. "I'm your wife, I'm just 'confused' right now, but you don't want to fuck me because Jane might be upset? What, you think I'll go away again, and she'll come back?"

Weller sat down on the opposite side of the couch, his eyes troubled. "It's not that."

"That's what it seems like to me." Remi tried not to sound like she was sulking, though she guessed she kind of was.

It hurt that he didn't want to touch her now. He'd been so loving and affectionate while he'd been recovering from his gunshot wound. Sure, he'd looked suspicious at times, when her Jane performance had been too over the top, or had slipped to reveal glimpses of her true self. But she'd enjoyed his behaviour towards her even as she'd detested the man himself. Who wouldn't love being woken by tiny kisses all over the back of their neck, or getting a mug of hot chocolate brought to her while she was soaking in a bubble bath?

And the sex? Oh, my god. Once he'd recovered enough for that, she hadn't been able to get enough. Even though he'd been wounded at first, and they'd had to be careful he didn't overexert himself, he'd been incredible in bed. Once he'd healed, he'd blown her mind. He knew everything she loved, and some things she didn't even know she loved until he did them.

Sure, the times when he'd wanted to go slow and gaze at her face as they rocked together had been difficult to bear. She got the feeling Jane had been just as sickeningly love-struck, so she'd had to act. At least she was good at making men feel like she loved them.

Remi finished her tracker drink to distract herself from the memory of Oscar, the only man she'd truly loved. It still hurt to think of him. The files said she'd killed him when she'd been Jane, but she had no memory of it. Oscar…

But that had been four years ago, apparently. There was something so strange about not remembering what she'd been doing over the past half a decade, and knowing the details second-hand. The things she'd fucked up when she'd had no memory of her life…

That was the whole point she was trying to make to Weller, though. She counted Jane as a different person, not her at all. But he insisted she was the same person, just without the perspective the past five years had given her. And yet, he was the one acting like Jane had just stepped out for groceries, and might be back any second.

Without a giant dose of ZIP, that sure wasn't happening.

"So if it's not that, then what is it?" she prompted Weller, who was still frowning into his coffee with that hurt expression he'd spent most of the past week with.

"You're not yourself right now. It feels like I'd be taking advantage of you while you're not mentally…" He scowled, frustrated. "That's not right either. Look, Remi, I have no idea about this ZIP stuff. All I know is that a couple of months ago, we were happy and in love. Things weren't perfect, things kept getting in the way, but we loved each other so much."

She'd gotten a few random memories back since waking at the hospital. She had no reason to doubt his words. She almost felt bad for him, losing his wife like that and having someone he'd see as a criminal wake up in her body.

"The way I see it, I wasn't in my right mind before. I spent thirty years being myself. Then the ZIP made me sick and you took advantage while I didn't have my memories. And now I'm better."

"If you're better, why can't you remember being Jane? Why does most of your knowledge of our life together come from case files, photographs and videos?"

Remi glared at him. "It's a side effect worth having to be me again. I don't know, maybe my attachment to you was a weird sort of Stockholm Syndrome or something."

He actually flinched then. Why did that make her feel guilty? This man had led her astray for five years while she didn't have the memories and experience to know better.

And he treated you with respect and affection the entire time. Didn't do more than kiss you for the first two years. And the first time was your idea.

Wow, where had that thought come from? Did she have Jane living in her head now?

"You're going to get those memories back, Remi. Slowly, but surely. You'll remember what happened, and how you felt when it did. That's the part you're missing right now. The perspective you gained when you were living as Jane."

"The part that you loved," Remi mumbled uncomfortably.

"I still love you. Even if you do something unforgivable, I'll love you. For the rest of my life, even if you're in supermax and I've moved on, because getting your memories of the past five years back doesn't change your perspective of the world and I can't stop you from doing something terrible. I just don't know how this is gonna play out yet. I don't know how any of this works, what you're gonna do, how I'm gonna have to react…"

He looked so conflicted, so depressed, that she felt the instinctive urge to hug him. Not that she indulged it. Now that she wasn't playing Jane anymore, if she wasn't trying to get laid, she wasn't interested in his embrace.

Sure, Remi.

"Weller… You're overthinking this. And for what? Do you think if I get my memories of being Jane back, I'm gonna feel betrayed because you cheated on me with that naughty Remi? Do you think I don't know what I want right now, that I'm confused, that I'll regret it later?"

"No. Think of it more like this: the way you're acting and the things you've done recently, I need time to come to terms with. No different than when you cheated on me with Clem. I need space and I need distance, because I'm hurt and I'm mad at you. Not for not being Jane, but for the things you've done behind my back since you forgot being her."

Now it was Remi's turn to flinch as though he'd struck her. "Fine."

"I don't understand why you want to sleep with me anyway. Don't you hate everything I stand for?"

"Yeah. But I'm bored and frustrated, and I know you're great in bed. The least you could do as a good husband is take the edge off." It was almost the complete truth. What she didn't want to admit—even to herself—was how much she missed the way he used to hold her when he thought she was Jane.

Weller gave a short, bitter laugh into his coffee cup. "The least I can do as a good husband is stop you from committing acts of terror."

"I can't blow up the city if you're getting me off," she retorted, and stormed into the bedroom, irritated and unfulfilled.