Author's Note: More people than I expected wanted Remi and Weller to get it on, so here we are! It turned out less ferocious and more angsty than I expected, but hey, it's something.

The anniversary of the day Kurt had asked Jane to marry him had been depressing pretty much every year so far. For the first one, Jane had been on the run, and he'd spent it alone in Venice, drinking and trying not to let his hope that Jane would show up get too strong. It had. She hadn't.

The second year, she'd also been gone. He'd spent it in their house in Colorado, staring down at bank statements and past-due notices, wondering if he should sell the New York apartment.

Last year, it had been just after she'd found out about Berlin. He'd wondered if this day would be cursed for him every year from now on, as he'd stared at the spot where they'd first made love after they'd gotten back from rescuing the team in Venezuela.

This year, Jane was here. Only she was adamant that she wasn't Jane.

Kurt let himself back into the apartment late, thanking the detail posted outside as he passed. Remi was still under house arrest, still reined in by the radioactive tracker in her bloodstream. And still pissed about it.

He'd spent longer than usual over his post-case paperwork, avoiding her and hoping she'd already have shut herself in the bedroom for the night once he got home.

Remi was awake, dressed only in a pair of underwear and a tight camisole, lounging on the couch. She seemed to be engrossed in one of his Tom Clancy novels—one Jane had already read, he noted with a wave of sadness. Obviously, his wife was still not back to herself. Not that he'd expected anything else.

"Hey," he greeted her, for no reason other than politeness. "Good book?"

"The last one was better." She used her thumb as a bookmark as she shut the paperback, the way Jane always did when she was transferring her full attention to him.

God, he missed his wife. And at the same time, his wife was right here. Wearing practically nothing and reading one of his favourite authors.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, hanging up his jacket and heading towards the bathroom, intent on taking a hot shower.

"Rough day, or is the scowl because I'm still me?"

"Do you care?" he countered, turning to watch her stand up.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. For a moment, her face was more vulnerable than he'd seen it in months, but then she shut down again, and shrugged.

Kurt resumed his path towards the bathroom, sighing.

As he showered, his brain played back memories he'd been trying not to remember all day: Jane's awe and curiosity as they'd explored Venice. The carefree way she'd held his hand. The way her eyes had widened as he'd pulled out the ring box and dropped to one knee in front of her. The joy in her smile as she'd interrupted his first words with a 'yes', not even allowing him to ask her the question.

It had been one of the happiest days of his life. Their wedding day, only a few months later, had been another.

Remi didn't remember either of those days. To her, today was just another Friday.

Kurt let the water stream over his face, wishing he could travel back in time, to watch her face, aglow in the sunset, as she admired her new engagement ring. To feel her body pressed against his as she suggested they should go back to their hotel room to celebrate properly.

After he stepped out of the shower, he bit back a curse. He'd taken to keeping a pile of clothing in here, to avoid having to wander past Remi wearing only a towel. She'd taken the hint and stopped trying to seduce him outright, but he didn't see the point in letting her objectify him more than necessary. He'd worn the last of those outfits last night, though, and he'd forgotten to bring any more clothing in since.

This day was definitely cursed.

Steeling himself, he checked his towel was securely tucked around his waist, then headed out towards the bedroom, mentally cursing yet again when he realised Remi had gone to bed.

He knocked on the door, knowing as he did so that he was going to regret it. But he'd regret sleeping naked even worse, come the morning. "Remi, I need to come in and grab something to wear."

She opened the door, still wearing nothing but the camisole and panties, and made no effort to hide her appraisal of his mostly naked body. "Come on in. Are you staying the night?"

"No," he said shortly, opening the drawer that held the sweatpants and old shirts he used as sleepwear.

"You should." She leaned against the wall beside the dresser, toying with the edge of her shirt.

"We've had this discussion, Remi. I'm not gonna sleep with someone who hates me."

She sighed. "I wish I could hate you. I used to. Maybe she won't let me."

"How much of this is true, and how much are you trying to stall me before I get dressed?"

Remi laughed, a little sadly. "Is that all I am to you these days? Just a sexual harasser to be avoided?"

"You don't make it easy for you to be anything else."

It was true. He'd started with good intentions, trying to help her remember their time together, but she'd resisted, shut down all his anecdotes and his recollections. The open hatred in her face had been hard to bear. As she'd grown used to the house arrest and the fact that her plans had been derailed, she'd drawn into herself, with the odd attempt to get him to slake her sexual thirst. Her behaviour had been less direct over the past week or so, but he'd been too tired and heartsick to attempt to build bridges.

Maybe he should have tried harder. With that rueful look on her face, she almost looked like herself again.

"Do you know what day it is today?"

She tilted her head, considering. "Besides Friday?"

Of course, she wouldn't have a clue. Defeated, he selected his nightwear and closed the drawer. "Goodnight, Remi."

He was moving faster than she anticipated as she stepped into his path, and he slammed into her, hard, then caught her as she stumbled back. The towel slipped from around his waist as he steadied her, so that only her body pressed against his prevented it from falling to the floor entirely.

This close, her scent filled his senses. It seemed that, Jane or Remi, her tastes in shower gel and shampoo were the same. He closed his eyes as she slid her arms around his waist, fighting back the urge to just pretend, just for a little while, that things hadn't changed.

"Don't you get lonely sometimes?" she whispered in his ear, the hard points of her nipples pressing against his chest through her thin shirt. "There's some part of me that won't stop looking for you, or missing you, or wanting you."

"Remi," he groaned, as much to remind himself of her identity as to try to shut her up.

Her hands slid down to cup his naked ass, her fingernails digging in just a little. "I don't know who I am anymore. I don't remember, but the things that I feel…"

Kurt knew this was something they should talk about. Talk, while they were both clothed and sitting somewhere more neutral than the bedroom, with space between them. But he couldn't move, the feel of her warm body against his too familiar and tempting to give up.

"God, even now you're holding back. Don't you want to just…forget for a while?"

Maybe it was the tremor in her voice. Maybe it was the tears in her eyes. Or maybe it was because he was too damn exhausted to resist her any longer. Whatever it was, he didn't bother to analyse it, crushing her lips beneath his in a rough, conflicted kiss.

Her moan as she raked her fingers through his hair made his pulse spike. Unable to help himself, he drove her back against the dresser, lifting her onto it as the towel between them fell to the floor, forgotten.

Kurt yanked down the front of her shirt to expose her breasts—one nipple pink, the other almost completely tattooed black. He trailed his mouth over the tattoos covering her chest, rolling and pinching the ink-free nipple between his finger and thumb as he nipped the other between his teeth.

She sounded exactly like Jane used to when she cried out, felt just like Jane as she arched her back, pressing harder into his touch.

"Fuck, Weller…" The husky sigh was so Remi that reality crashed back into him abruptly.

Only the way she was stroking his cock—with firm but lazy movements designed to drive him crazy but not bring him release—prevented him from stepping back and leaving the room at her distracted moan. Jane had so rarely called him by his last name after their wedding, even at work.

He knew Remi had played him, pretended to feel more than she did—but he'd let himself be played, and he couldn't bear to walk away now. He silenced Remi with an almost violent kiss—rougher than he'd ever treated Jane when she'd been herself—and she nipped his lower lip in response, spreading her legs farther apart in invitation.

Kurt dragged the fabric of her underwear to one side and groaned against her neck as she practically soaked his hand with his first stroke between her legs. She was more than ready to take him in, and he wanted this over. Wanted to lose himself in sordid pleasure and pretend, just for a second, that everything was okay. That Remi had rediscovered Jane. That his wife wasn't slowly dying.

Closing the door to that train of thought, he dragged Remi forward by the hips until she was right at the edge of the dresser, clinging to him for balance with one hand even as she guided his cock to the right spot with the other. Her head fell back in pleasure as he pushed steadily into her, and he couldn't help but press his lips to the bird tattoo as he adjusted to the feel of her around him. Jane. God, I miss you.

When he opened his eyes, Remi was watching him, an unreadable expression on her face. He got the feeling she knew exactly where his mind had gone for the few seconds he'd stopped moving.

"Do I fuck like she does?" There was less animosity in the question than he would have expected.

"Like you used to. Before we got used to each other." And that made more sense than it didn't, since the only person Jane had slept with before him had been Oscar.

Remi's breath caught as he began to move again, slowly drawing out of her almost completely before sinking back into her heat.

"I want it hard," she demanded, bracing her feet against the dresser. "So hard it hurts."

It was tempting. But beneath that defensive demand was the familiar voice of his wife, and no matter how conflicted he was about this, he couldn't intentionally hurt her.

"If that's how you want it, you'll have to call in one of the guys from outside."

He smothered her complaint with a kiss. What had started out as something he wanted to get over and done as soon as possible had become a way for him to take back a little of the control he'd lost when he'd discovered he'd been sharing his bed with someone who considered herself the enemy.

Despite her supposed disappointment, Remi didn't make the slightest move to push him away as he took her with slow, controlled thrusts. He watched her as she leaned back on her hands, biting back moans as he adjusted his angle to hit the right spot as he moved.

"Remi or Jane, it doesn't matter," he told her. "I know you love it when I do this."

She gave him a half-hearted scowl even as she arched with pleasure at his increased pace. He felt her tremble on the brink of climax, watched her struggle not to beg and then lose the battle. "Kurt," she gasped out. "Please…"

He slid his hand down to her clit, applying just the right kind of indirect friction to take her over the edge, keeping a tenuous hold on his own composure as her body clenched rhythmically around his cock. She didn't vocalise her pleasure, maybe out of pure stubbornness, but her dazed, satisfied expression told him he'd surpassed her expectations.

He kissed her again, unable to help himself, and she wound her arms and legs around him, her return kisses lazily hedonistic in a way that sent a pang of sorrow through his chest. She was so much like her old self in this moment, he almost couldn't stand it.

When she came down from her high a little, she pulled back enough to look him in the eye. The cynicism he'd come to associate with Remi was still there, but she didn't try to rip him apart with her words now that she'd taken what she wanted from him.

"Let's finish this."

Kurt was in total agreement.

It took only a few seconds to move from the dresser to the bed, Kurt stretched out on his back and Remi sitting astride his hips. She met his eyes as she began to move, and he sucked in a shaky breath at the conflict in her expression—desire and hostility, longing and defensiveness, sadness and connection.

They understood each other, at least in this moment. What they were to each other, and what they weren't.

"Remi," he growled, gripping her hips to guide her movements.

"Weller," she breathed, her eyes half-closing with pleasure.

Instinctively, he sat up, dragged her into a heated, clumsy kiss as she bounced in his lap. Remi returned it just as fervently, then shoved him back down to the bed as she rode him harder. He bucked up against her, his climax building steadily with every provocative tilt of her hips. Remi gasped for breath, her focus turning inward as she sought just the right movement to trigger her second orgasm.

She fell forward onto her hands as her release swept over her, catching herself before she crashed down onto Kurt. He gripped her hips and took the final few desperate thrusts he needed to follow her over the edge, groaning with relief as he lost himself in the moment.

Afterwards, she rolled off him, her breathing ragged as she recovered. He was in the same state, dishevelled and panting for breath as the euphoria faded and reality descended.

That was a mistake.

He looked over at Remi to find her watching him with the same bleak expression he was sure he had. He'd caught her off guard; she immediately turned over, her back to him, and said, "Goodnight, Weller."

He couldn't bring himself to reply as he rose from the bed. Without pausing to think, he picked up the towel and the clothing he'd come in here to get and headed for the door, trying not to think of what they'd just done.

He'd assumed he wouldn't see any more of Remi that night, but around thirty minutes later, as he made up his couch bed, she emerged from the bedroom with her bathrobe tightly wrapped around her.

"The anniversary of your engagement. That's what today was."

"Our engagement," he corrected, reaching for the cord of the lamp he'd just turned off and illuminating the room again.

She nodded, but didn't speak.

"Did you remember? Or did you dig around in there until you found something that told you?" Kurt sat down on the couch and waited, knowing she could read his scepticism.

Remi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. "I remembered Venice. The hotel room. The red rose and that soft, gold-coloured comforter you wrapped her in. You fucked her just like that, right? After you proposed."

For the first time in weeks, a spark of hope ignited in Kurt's chest. It was too detailed a memory to have been pieced together from outside pieces of information, but still, he tested her. "And the blanket smelled like peppermint."

"Cinnamon." She gave him a sad smile. "I'm not trying to screw with your head, Weller. I remembered."

He indicated the vacant space next to him on the couch. "Wanna sit?"

Remi did—as far from him as the couch would allow.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, as she pulled at a loose thread on the hem of her robe.

"I wasn't bullshitting you, you know. Earlier."

"Yeah. You were." That was one thing he was certain of. She'd played on his emotions, got him to drop his guard enough that he'd given in to her seduction. And no matter what she'd remembered since, he was pissed about it. At her—for the manipulation—and at himself, for being taken in.

Remi sighed. "I exaggerated a little. I admit it. But it wasn't something I pulled out of nowhere."

Kurt waited, not trusting himself to speak.

"I went into this mission hating you. I woke up from the coma hating you. I heard what had happened while I'd been Jane, and I hated you even more. Sometimes I still do. But sometimes I hear something, or smell something, or you do something that trips a trigger. I don't get a full memory back, just a feeling."

She was tense, her hands balled into fists in her lap now. The atmosphere practically screamed, don't touch me.

Carefully, Kurt ventured, "It bothers you."

"She was happy," Remi said awkwardly. "She was happier than I've ever been."

"You were happy. Those feelings are yours."

"No." Remi shook her head emphatically. "You don't understand. This doesn't belong to me. She woke up, she crawled out of that bag and she made a life for herself. And she destroyed everything that had any meaning to me."

She looked up at him, her anger tinged with hopelessness. "This is her world, not mine. So why am I back?"

"You really can't believe that she's you?" Kurt's heart ached for this broken version of his wife. "Because I see a lot of Jane in you."

Remi snorted. "We're ideologically total opposites. Didn't you tell me she hated me?"

"She didn't have the full picture of what you'd been through. Just like you don't have the full picture of her yet. When you were Jane, you weren't always happy. You spent a lot of time lonely, confused, angry, hurt…"

"Why don't I remember any of that?"

"Maybe you do. But maybe when you got those feelings back, they were close to what you were feeling at the time, so they didn't stand out." Kurt shrugged. "Anyway, I'm no psychologist. But the only way I can explain it is that Jane is the version of Remi that got to start from scratch, without any memory of South Africa, the orphanage, Shepherd, Orion…"

Remi was quiet, but he sensed he was getting through to her. "You had your problems, especially after Oscar made contact. The more your past caught up with you, the more complicated things got. But you didn't have the emotional baggage weighing you down at the start. So when you came into contact with, for example, law enforcement…"

"I didn't assume you're a bunch of unquestioning drones who work to uphold the status quo of a corrupt government." Remi's lips twisted bitterly. "Which meant I became one of them."

"You understood something then that you have trouble believing now, because you remember everything Shepherd drummed into you."

Sensing this would lead to an argument if he didn't nip it in the bud, Kurt stood up. "Planning on sleeping anytime soon, or do you want me to make you some tea?"

Remi stood up abruptly, as if he'd dismissed her instead of just changed the subject. "I'm gonna head to bed."

She made it most of the way to the bedroom before turning. "Weller?"

"You're welcome," he said, saving her the struggle of actually having to thank him.

She nodded, relief flashing across her face. "Goodnight."

Kurt lay awake for a long time that night, wondering if Remi had reached the start of a turning point, or whether he was building himself up for another agonising fall.