A/N-In case it wasn't clear in the last chapter (and in all chapters in this story), sections in italics are all memories/flashbacks/dreams, etc.
I want to thank everyone for their thoughts, and for so much support. I really love this fandom and pair, and this is REALLY, REALLY fun. Thanks, hope you enjoy.
Also, I am nearly done with a chapter of "Still the Only" as well as the next chapter of this story, and hope to post again within the next few days. I'll try to keep updates somewhat frequent on both, but you all know how life can be sometimes.
Chapter 2: Out of the Storm
Jane felt an odd sense of worlds colliding when she saw Kurt's temporary tent near the top of her mountain. At first it made her feel unsettled, but then, slowly, she began to enjoy the feeling of the two together, as if such a thing could actually be the natural order. She wondered what it would have been like to climb her mountain one day and find him sitting at the top, waiting.
The late night walk would have been much nicer had hail not been pelting down on her, and if she hadn't been so deeply worried about Kurt. She peered around the side of the shelter and saw him lying on his back, his head propped up on a backpack, glass bottle in his hand. His legs jutted out slightly from the shelter, and chunks of hail were clinging to his pants. He was lit only by a small portable lamp on the ground next to him. "Hey," he welcomed quietly, glancing only momentarily in her direction.
"Hey," she answered, leaning in a little further. "Can I come in?"
"If you can handle the luxury."
She smiled sweetly and said, "You don't look very comfortable at all."
"I dunno. I've had worse nights."
"I'm sure. But my tent is warmer than this. It's dryer than this. There aren't ice chunks falling from the ceiling. It has more comfortable bedding and blankets."
"Five star stuff," he added, taking another sip from a nearly empty bottle of bourbon.
"Yea," she chuckled, sitting closer, just within arm's reach if she were to stretch out toward him. "The thing is, everything about my tent is nicer than your current…umm…accommodations. So the only reason I can think of why you'd want to stay here…is because I'm there. Is that about right?"
He sighed and she awaited an answer for nearly an eternity, but finally he sat up a bit and said, "I don't understand what I'm supposed to do. Sleep next to you? Hold you like nothing happened? Kiss you like you didn't run off a few days after we got married? Make love once or twice for old time's sake? Or maybe a quick make-up fuck to follow up the fight that I don't even remember having before you left… I don't know how to act or what to do. I don't even know what to think."
"I just want to be near you. I can't explain how good it felt to see you again…just to be next to you. I didn't know you were coming, so I didn't have a plan… this is all really strange for me, too. All I know for certain is that I don't want to let you go. And if being next to you means that we might kiss or make love or just hold each other…I would like that."
"I can't have a casual fling with my wife, the woman I love! You were never, ever, a casual anything to me."
Taking the bottle from his hand and slugging a drink, her head swam almost immediately and she said, "Wow…I haven't had a drink for a while." She chuckled and noticed that he wasn't glaring, just staring quietly into the stormy sky. When he didn't respond, she considered his last words and she asked, "Does that mean that, maybe, you're still in love with me?"
"That's the most ridiculous question I've ever been asked," he answered.
"No it isn't. You can barely look at me. I know you value loyalty and fidelity and vows…the duty of marriage…but what about the rest of it? Are there other reasons why you wear your ring, or is it just because of the promises you made?"
"Of course I'm in love with you, Jane. I don't even know how you could question that. I can't just turn off my feelings for you. If I could, maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad. But I can't. How did you turn it off?"
"I didn't," she adamantly countered. "I have never stopped loving you for a second. I love you with all my heart. None of that has changed."
"Well, it's been really hard to tell that from my end."
"I wish you could understand."
"So make me understand," he practically pleaded. "Explain it to me. I was, what…too boring? Too unrefined? Worked too much? Too inattentive? Expected too much? I wanted too much sex? Not enough sex? I don't understand what happened. We were so happy. We were happier than I thought I could ever be. I thought things were good. I thought things were so good I wasn't even a little worried that something might go wrong. I was completely blindsided. I guess what I had to offer just wasn't enough."
"That's not true. There was nothing wrong with you. You didn't do anything wrong. We were really happy. You were perfect."
"Obviously I wasn't if you went searching for fulfillment somewhere else. You went all this way to get away from me…I chased you all this way to find you again. What happened that made you vow to spend a lifetime with me one day…and a few days later made you disappear without a word?"
"I left a note."
"That could have fit on a postage stamp," he argued. "After all we went through, I didn't even deserve a conversation? You couldn't have told me to my face? Talked to me? Tried to work things out? There isn't a place in this world I wouldn't have followed you to if you'd asked me…not a thing I wouldn't have done to help you. If you needed time alone, I would have given it to you. I would have done anything to make you happy, and have you in my life, or at least…to know that some day you'd be back. You just had to talk to me. I thought that was part of being in a relationship."
"It's so hard to explain. I'm not even sure if I understand."
"Well, one minute we were happy, and the next you were gone. Something changed. The only thing I can think of is the conversation we had the night before you left. I know I made you uncomfortable and—"
"It wasn't about that either."
"Maybe I pushed too hard…pushed you away. But all you had to do was tell me you weren't ready. All I wanted was you, the rest was just extra."
"It had nothing to do with you, Kurt. I need you to know that!" she yelled, speaking more loudly than she had in longer than she could remember. "I was remembering things. Lots of things. Remi…she's still part of me, inside me. She didn't just vanish. And she did things that…"
"I told you a thousand times I didn't care about anything she…you…did before. How could I have made that any clearer? It doesn't matter to me."
"But I care about what I did. Who I was. I didn't deserve a life like that, with a husband or a family, after everything I've done. I can't guarantee I won't one day wake up and realize I've become Shepherd…horrible and manipulative. She thought she was doing the right thing…she felt justified. What if I became a mother, and that's how I raised our child? I was raised by her…she molded me. Everything they did, I helped to orchestrate, to plan. I am just as responsible. And what if Roman comes back and hurts you or someone else I love? I'm a magnet, Kurt. A lightning rod for horrible things, and everyone around me, everyone I love, is always in danger. Look at Reade, Zapata and Patterson…god knows who took them, and I'm probably the reason."
She paused once she realized she was actually screaming out over the mountain, fat streaks of tears down her face, her voice shaking from anger and fear and confusion. She felt Kurt watching her, more unabashedly than he had been. He slid closer across the floor, just putting an arm barely around her shoulder. It wasn't the full wrap-up in his arms that she wanted, but it felt so good to feel a little of the comfort only he could offer. And he offered it willingly. She turned closer, hoping he wouldn't pull away when she leaned her head against his shoulder.
His arm dropped from her shoulder once she stopped crying, but he rested his hand on the ground behind her, so he didn't move away entirely. He seemed shocked at her sudden outburst, but at least a little relieved that she'd opened up. "Why couldn't you just tell me that, Jane? Why couldn't we have tried to talk about it? Couldn't we have tried to figure everything out together? We were a team, in every way. Was I that hard to talk to?"
"No. You weren't hard to talk to at all," she laughed sadly, "I—I guess I didn't really even understand it all myself. I'm still trying to figure it all out. I—I just knew I had to go. I hope you know I never wanted to hurt you. Not ever. I am so sorry that I hurt you."
The tarp above them ripped, piles of hail and pooled rain water falling mostly on Kurt as he quickly up-righted himself and brushed off the hail that collected on every fold in his clothing. He picked up his things from the puddles, shaking excess water from each one. The lightening flashed brightly and lit their surroundings.
"Please," she said as the winds picked up, "come back and stay in my tent. I'm not asking for anything else from you. Just come out of the storm."
She was certain he was going to say no, that he was going to tough out a night cold and freezing, stubbornly refusing any comfort, but she saw the way his brow softened when he saw the pained look on her face and he nodded. "Okay," he replied, his volume drowned out by the storm, as she read his lips. She knew he was accepting more for her benefit than his own, that his desire to protect and soothe her still had a powerful hold on him. It was all the proof of his true feelings that she needed.
Jane scooped up his lantern and bottle as he grabbed the rest of his things and they ran back to her tent. The fresh blankets that the monk had given her were soaked already, so Jane found a few she had and pulled them out. She patted her cot and asked, "Do you want to sleep up here? You can have the cot. Or we could share, if you want."
He looked at her hand on the cot for a few seconds, as he seemed to thoroughly consider the offer, and then shook his head, "I'll be fine down here."
"Alright," she said, trying to cover the ache in her heart that she felt at his rejection. At least he'd agreed to sleep in her tent, and that was more than she'd expected.
"Thanks though," Weller replied.
"I'm trying," she said as they lay in the dark. "I'm trying to figure things out…I want to fix all of this. I don't want to lose you."
"I know you're trying," he finally answered. "I am, too."
She rolled on her side and propped herself up, looking down over his long silhouette on the floor nearby. "Why does it bother you when I touch you?"
He sighed loudly, rubbing one broad hand over his face, "Because it feels so good. Normal," he finally admitted. "And it hurts because it isn't normal anymore. If I let you back in, and you…"
His words fell silent but his meaning was clear. Jane was the one who wanted so much more at that moment. She wanted him to tell her everything, every single thing he was thinking and wondering about, she wanted to know how to ease his aching heart, and knew in that moment that she would have done absolutely anything for him. She wanted the obvious distance between them to disappear so she could climb behind his walls and really be there with him, like they had been. She didn't want Kurt to feel pain at her touch, she wanted him to be comforted by it. She wanted him next to her, to feel the rumble in his chest when he laughed and held her. She wanted him to place an almost unnoticeable kiss on her shoulder when she slept like he had so often. She wanted him to look at her, to lock eyes, to make her feel the way he'd made her feel a thousand times just by staring at her.
She despised the thin invisible line that separated who they used to be from who they were in their present moment. The man she'd once touched without apology, kissed without reason, held without shame, seemed to be so forbidden. Her terrified words echoed in her mind What if I become Shepherd. I'm a lightning rod for pain and everyone close to me is in danger. I'm just as responsible. She'd traveled so far to try to find answers, only to begin to really unravel the puzzle when he found her again. Perhaps this was something else that needed both of them to work.
He began to snore, softly, more of a gravelly breath, and she closed her eyes and imagined that sound closer to her. How many nights had he slept with his face against her neck, or her head on his chest? Jane sat up, her feet swinging off the cot as she looked in his direction. She nearly crawled across the floor to him, to just lie behind him, almost touching. Then her mind wondered if he'd see that as an invasion. When she thought of the nearness she craved and the hurt that its absence caused, she began to really understand why her touch was so painful for him. As much as she wanted to be near him, she wanted him to want her there, to be ready to invite her into his embrace.
She reached behind her to her meager personal belongings and found her ring. Sliding it over her finger, she remembered the day he'd put it on as they'd exchanged vows. Resting back down on the cot, her mind, as it often did, returned to simpler, happier days.
Jane got dressed after her shower, stealing a shirt from Kurt's closet since he wasn't there to offer her one. The morning after their first night together, everything was still a little surreal, the fact that they loved each other, the fact that they'd had sex, fucking amazing sex, and he'd whispered "stay" to her every time she even thought she should offer to leave. She heard a knock at the door and hoped it was the food he'd mentioned ordering and not someone from work. As she stepped out of the hall and into the kitchen, she saw him tipping the deliverer before he carried a few bags to the counter. He couldn't seem to stop grinning every time he looked at her, and the morning was no exception. "Damn. Can't believe I forgot," he said as he looked through the bags.
"Forget to order something?" Jane asked as she casually strolled across the floor.
"No. I forgot to lock my closet so you couldn't find anything to wear," he grinned again, that wolfish, flirty grin that melted her almost every time.
"What's this?" she asked, discovering groceries instead of the prepared food she usually had delivered to her place.
"It's called food. This is what it looks like before the restaurant cuts it up, cooks it, and delivers it to you in the form of take-out."
"F-ooo-d?" she playfully pretended that the word was foreign. "It's easier when it comes prepared and the only thing you need to do is supply the fork, chew and swallow. And while you're so busy cooking and being a smartass… you didn't realize that all the time you spend making the food could be spent doing other things. Much, much, much funner things."
"What sorts of other things?" he asked, acting completely clueless and innocent as he slapped a cutting board on the counter, grabbed a knife and started cutting. "You mean tennis? Maybe reading a good book? There's always Uno Attack…I know you love that."
She stood next to him, her back against the counter as she faced him. "That's not quite what I was thinking."
"I tried to get enough food to last a little while…not just one meal. I was hoping, maybe, you'd stay here with me. And we wouldn't have to go anywhere, for a day or two," he explained.
"So plenty of time for Uno Attack?"
"Exactly!" he agreed as he openly chuckled at the suggestion.
"I could stay, if you're inviting."
"I'm inviting."
"I'll just have to find something to do while you're busy playing chef," she seductively murmured, her fingers moving to the top button of the shirt she was wearing as she started plucking open each one.
"If you want me to…uhh…play along in the next round, I'm going to have to replenish vital nutrients at some point."
"I'm not stopping you," she answered as she let the shirt fall open, but remain hanging on her shoulders.
"I'm highly trained to withstand years of torture and manipulation, you know," he bragged. "I think I can handle your—"
He stopped with confusion as she slipped under his arms, coming up between him and the counter, facing him with his arms on either side of her as he chopped. She felt him groan, somewhere deep inside his chest, and she whispered, "Does this really feel like torture?"
He shook his head, still chopping, but much more slowly behind her back as he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue reminding her of the many talents he had that she had spent a few of the previous hours learning about. He stopped kissing her as abruptly as he'd started, looked over her shoulder, and continued chopping. She smacked his chest with the heel of her hand, and said, her voice raspy and suggestive, "Really? You'd rather chop stuff than umm…play with me?'
"No," he shook his head, one hand sliding under his shirt that she wore. His hand moved to her ass, pulling her closer while he wedged his knee between her thighs and braced it against the cabinet below the island. The firm pressure of his leg between hers made her moan expectantly, and she tightened her arms and pulled her body up against his, her toes already off the floor. His other hand was still loosely grasping the handle of the knife behind her back, trying to make some pretense that he wasn't distracted by her seduction.
After just a minute or two, her tiny form pinned against the island and in his arms made him forget the challenge to concentrate rather than be distracted by her. He dropped the knife on the counter and allowed his other hand to find her skin, sliding up her back.
"I thought you were hungry?" she asked, her own moan confessing her state of mind.
"Starving," he replied roughly, his hand moving up her neck, grabbing a handful of hair and tipping her head so his mouth had full access to her shoulder, neck and jawline.
She liked when he became so turned on that he forgot to treat her delicately, and he moved her to a different spot on the counter, recklessly throwing the knife on the floor behind him so there was no chance she'd accidentally be cut by it. He pushed her back on the counter, her legs winding around his body as his mouth slid over the tight expanse of her form. He stopped to kiss each breast, teasing each nipple, kissing each hip and the flat of her stomach before he pulled her legs around his neck and buried his face between her thighs. Her fingers clenched down on the edge of the counter, holding on through the erotic onslaught of his attention. His one free hand moved to her forearm, his long fingers holding onto her as if he feared she may slip away across the countertop.
Jane woke, as she did too often, just short of any sort of satisfaction, even in her dreams. She wondered if they'd ever get back there again, to love without caution, passion without hindrance. It had all felt so simple. So natural. So easy.
She could still hear the words he'd spoken that morning in his kitchen so long ago, "I think we should make 'brunch' a regular thing, don't you?" with that suggestive glance and the naughty chuckle that followed.
Lying on her cot, alone, she groaned, her hands balling into fists by her side as she remembered her reality. "Bad dream?" his voice came through, from the floor instead of beside her, but at least in the same room.
"No, I…" she began looking at the back of her forearm, to the spot where she remembered him holding on so tightly, so possessively, two years ago on his kitchen counter. She could almost feel his hand still covering that spot. "Oh god," she said as she stared at the place where his hand belonged, and the image triggered a memory.
"You alright? What is it?" he sat up, immediately moving toward her and ready to protect her even after everything that had happened.
"One of the new symbols, here, on my arm…right here," she pointed to the spot. "I know what it's for."
"What?"
"Atonement," she gravely replied.
