Chapter 8

Sunday morning Kurt woke to the feeling of Remi's arms around his neck, holding him tightly in place. Every time he'd stirred they'd been tangled with each other, and she seemed increasingly at ease within his embrace. She was wrapped around him like a blanket, mumbling something against his neck. He couldn't tell if she was even awake.

He tried to move out from under her, the need to pee making it impossible to remain in her grasp for any longer. She groaned unhappily when he slid her onto the bed alone, so he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Be back in a sec."

Kurt knew it was very possible that he'd lost his mind over this woman. It was nearly eight o'clock that Sunday morning, the weekend rapidly evaporating. He lamented each second that passed, bringing them closer to the end of their weekend together. On one hand he was happy and grateful that what had begun with the misfortune of a broken vehicle had brought them together. And yet that happiness existed next to the fact that the obstacles between them were many and significant, and this situation was far from simple.

He spent nearly every quiet moment considering ways to help Remi get away from Shepherd. His fear for Remi's safety dampened the drunkenly happy feelings of new love that were forcing their way into him. He'd thought about going to the farm, taking Remi and Roman, picking up Sarah, and driving until they crossed a border and hit an ocean. Canada or Mexico, maybe further into Central or South America. Shepherd wouldn't find them there, would she? And more rational parts of his mind reprimanded him for his foolishness as they reminded him of certain realities. If he and Remi crossed state lines with their siblings, they could probably be accused of kidnapping. That wouldn't help anyone involved. If Shepherd was half as dangerous as Remi acted like she was, they'd always be looking over their shoulders. Other ideas seemed to come and go, but each was flawed.

He would have been lying if he said the thought of offering to marry her hadn't crossed his mind. He could finish school, become an officer, and she could be an army bride. It wouldn't be a glamorous life, but they could travel to places far from Pennsylvania. Even if she didn't love him, at least she would be out of Shepherd's reach. Maybe they could petition for custody of Roman and Sarah. But even as he worked through the steps of that plan, he knew it was absolutely insane. She'd probably think he was crazy if he even joked about the idea.

They barely knew each other. And yet, he probably knew her better than he'd known any of the other women he'd dated. He'd definitely shared more with her than he had with any other human being. She'd told him of her betrayal, and later, he'd told her everything about Taylor, even those painful details that he would have rather withheld. In spite of the horrors she'd faced, she listened to his story with concern, showing empathy that he hadn't really expected. The thing that surprised him the most was when she'd said, "A kid should be able to trust his own father. I guess we're the same in that way, both completely betrayed by someone we really thought we could trust. I don't think you ever really move past something like that."

At first he'd dismissed her suggestion, but she argued her point quite successfully, and eventually he started to see her perspective. When she noted, somewhat casually, "Maybe that's why you seem to understand me better than most people," he couldn't help but feel hopeful that she was feeling the connection between them as deeply as he was.

The space between them, both physical and emotional, was shriveling. The sex was already fantastic, and only seemed to get better with repetition, despite tiredness and the fact that he felt half beat up. But they weren't only sharing a sexual bond. That much was undeniable. Even if everything were to end the next day, he knew that what they'd already shared was something meaningful, and he'd probably compare every other woman to her.

Pausing to brush his teeth while he was in the bathroom, he stared in the mirror, telling himself to be patient and keep his head on his shoulders. He wasn't one for rash decisions and foolhardy mistakes. Of course he'd never felt anything like this before, so these were uncharted waters.

He rounded the corner as he came out of the bathroom, but she wasn't sleeping. She knelt on the edge of the bed, her body illuminated by a bedside lamp that she'd turned on while he'd been gone. "You're gorgeous. Do you know that?" he asked.

She shook her head, and even though he couldn't clearly see her eyes, he suspected that she was rolling them at him.

"You are," he insisted, thoroughly studying her naked body.

"Enough talk. Get over here," she ordered, pointing to the ground in front of her.

"So demanding," he teased.

She shook her head and countered, "You're pretty gorgeous yourself…so I'm going to take advantage of you as much as I can before we have to go."

He could hear a hint of disappointed sadness in her voice at the mention of leaving. "Hey, we can find ways to meet up more often. I'm willing to be taken advantage of by you pretty much whenever you want," he replied.

"I'll remember you said that," she answered cheekily, standing on the bed.

He approached, kissing her chest between her breasts while he palmed one in each hand. She hopped onto him, wrapping her legs high around his waist while her arms hooked behind his neck. She used her toes to push his boxers down until they were lowered far enough to fall the rest of the way on their own.

Although he wasn't typically a man to complain about a sexy woman who demanded to be on top of him, part of him wanted to be able to exert a little more control. He wanted her to surrender the upper hand sometimes, to trust him enough to lower her defenses and know that nothing bad would ever happen when he was the one she was beneath. He reminded himself to be patient, this was all so new and exciting, and he would wait as long as she needed. But it was damn hard to wait when she was the woman before him. Right as he was considering all of this, she asked, "Hey. You bored with me already?"

"God no," he loudly answered. "Not at all. Not even a tiny bit."

"Then why do you look so distracted? What the hell are you thinking about?"

He paused, because his first instinct was to reply, How bad I want to throw you down on that bed and make love to you, but he thought better of it. More cautiously but with equal honesty, he verbally answered, "You. I'm thinking about you. How could I think about anything else?"

She tightened her jaw as she mumbled, "I have had more orgasms this weekend than I can count. So why do I still want you so bad?"

"Me too, honey," he replied, realizing that she was already a little breathless.

The temptation was to slide into her as he stood there, to wriggle her hips a little lower and see what it felt like to be inside her without anything between them. Maybe just for a minute or two?

He nearly asked if he could, hormones and biological urges contesting with more responsible forces for dominance. Ultimately he wasn't sure if her trust in him ran that deep, and he didn't want to ruin the mood, so he decided to withhold the question. He wasn't even sure if he trusted himself enough to stop in time. His mind seemed too willing to throw caution to the wind wherever Remi was involved.

He carried her to the bedside table, fumbling on the surface behind her for a condom, trying like hell to continue making mature decisions even when he didn't want to. She was already kissing him, anxiously pushing her pelvis against him like she was more desperate for relief than he was. She hitched up higher on him, entrusting him to keep them both safe while she was hurrying things along. As soon as he had it on, he pressed a hand to the small of her back to encourage her to lower her body onto his. She leaned back, bracing on the table behind her, rocking her hips against him before he was even prepared for such powerfully pleasurable sensations.

"Hang on," he chuckled, leaning over her and tenderly finding her lips while he tried to gain some semblance of control. His hands gripped tightly on her hips as he buried himself to the hilt inside her, listening to her call out with desirous consent as he did so. He pulled out completely, cockily smirking when he saw her vexed expression before he pushed back into her and she moaned his name in approval. "Say it like that again," he requested with long leisurely strokes in and out of her body.

As he sought her depths again and again, his name was on her lips. She steadied herself on the table, her shoulders against the wall, and although she wasn't really under him, he definitely had her pinned in that spot. She didn't appear to be at all uneasy about it.

She reached behind his neck, lifting her face to his and nipping his lip kind of roughly before she soothed it with a slow, wet kiss. She was definitely the most erotic creature he'd ever encountered. "Harder, Weller," she demanded, tipping her body back again with complete faith that he wouldn't allow her to fall.

He drove into her with more force, grunting a "Yes ma'am," always ensuring that she was still enjoying herself. He could barely be bothered to think of taking precautions or remember his own damn name, but he always seemed to be able to make sure Remi was okay.

As she really began to let go, Remi's surrender was unrestrained and whole. She was a very responsive and vocal partner, something he had a particular fondness for. The more she moaned, the more he pounded into her, trying to elicit an even greater reaction. She met each thrust with her own furtive response until she fell completely against the table and dragged him along. Her fingers dug into his sides, her excitement provoking his own. "Baby, I'm coming," she started, her voice quivering as she added, "don't you dare stop." As if that was even possible, their voices crying out in synchronized release, neglecting to notice the way they'd half climbed onto the table as they chased each other.

"Damn," she gasped before she'd even started to recover, "I'm really gonna miss you this week."

"Me too," he answered, finally opening his eyes and trying to figure out why it was darker. Maybe she'd fucked him blind.

"Careful," she said when he started to pull away, pointing at the floor.

The lamp that had been on the table was on the floor, the bulb smashed into tiny shards and the shade flung across the room. He'd never even heard it fall. He felt like just finding his breath was a task. Their foreheads and noses were touching, and she took his face in her hands and held it. "You're really good in bed," she said, laughing softly. "And apparently on tables. And hammocks. And chairs and floors."

"Because I have a really good partner," he complimented.

The fuzzy previous moments began to sharpen in his mind, and he could hear the sound of her calling out, Baby, I'm coming, the reverberations echoing in his mind. He probably wouldn't normally choose that particular term of endearment for himself, but something about her saying it in that way, at that moment, to him, was fucking music to his ears.

How was he going to make it through the days to come? What was it about this thing between them that made it so hard to let go of her? Then he realized she was partially trapped, so he stood upright, taking a moment to tie off the used condom and toss it in the trash before he fell back on the bed and dragged her onto his torso.


Her fingers brushed along his chest as she noted, "I can't seem to get enough of you."

"Good news for me," he answered.

She felt a surge of concern as the gravity of what was happening between them came into focus. Shaking her head, she explained, "This is so crazy."

"Maybe a little," he granted.

The flood of post-orgasmic hormones clouded her defenses, and she questioned, "There is something more between us, right?"

"Hunh?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lip. He seemed to circle around to understanding, eventually, and said, "I think so. I mean…I hope so."

"It's just that…"

She couldn't seem to continue, but he waited, seeming unendingly patient with her. "What?" he asked, looking almost hopeful for whatever she might tell him.

"This is so much, so fast."

"Yea," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean it's not good. Sometimes it doesn't take long to figure out when something fits."

She was aimlessly playing with the hairs on his chest, feeling oddly at ease with him even though their relationship was so young. "It is good. I…I had no idea when you showed up that we'd end up like this."

"Me neither," he chuckled. "I was too busy worrying that you were gonna kick my ass."

"Why?" she laughed, searching his face for answers.

"Because I called you Candy…"

"Roman was actually surprisingly nice to you that day."

"I can still picture you perfectly, fixing that tractor…the very first moment I saw you."

"Really?" she asked.

Her ex had never said or done anything that made her feel the way Kurt seemed to so easily. Frank had always made her feel useful, important and trustworthy. Maybe, like Shepherd, Frank had always seen her more as an operative than a person. In fact, everything about being with Kurt was more intense, more exciting, and more addictive. Part of her wanted to tell him that she could see this thing between them lasting, no matter how impractical it all appeared. But it seemed unfair to offer hope when she wasn't really free to make her own choices.

"What is your last name?" he asked.

"I know that seems like a simple question, but it's a lot more complicated than you think," she answered. And yet again, she was torn between the idea that maybe they had a real future together, built on honesty, and the urge to protect him from certain realities. If this went wrong, Shepherd might take her frustration out on Kurt. Or maybe she'd just send Remi into a mission she couldn't possibly survive. But even with those cautionary warnings ringing in her ears, she said, "I thought it was Briggs, for a little while. That's Shepherd's last name. But looking back, I don't think it was ever officially changed to that. I've gone by lots of names. The only one I'm sure of is Kruger. That was my name when I was born." It was the first time she'd said that name since Shepherd had taken them in. She had encouraged the kids to shed that old life and never look back.

Strangely, Kurt didn't push for additional information then either. He seemed content with her attempt.

They were quiet for a little while, both near sleep, until he cleared his throat and said, "I was thinking…"

"Wow. I'm impressed," she joked, feeling his fingers tickling the space next to her hips in retaliation.

"I'm being serious," he argued. "I was thinking that I have a holiday break coming up for Thanksgiving. I was wondering if you want to spend it with me. Together."

"I don't know if I can—"

"You have a couple of weeks to try to work it out. Or maybe I could come up to the farm. I'm a pretty good cook. If I could try to prove to Shepherd that I'm worthy of her daughter—"

"You don't know Shepherd," Remi unhappily chuckled. "It's not a matter of whether or not you're worthy. She doesn't care either way. It's not like that. She doesn't want distractions."

"Still, if I could win her over, show her that I could be—"

"No," Remi interrupted, sitting up. "I don't want you to win her over. If you impress her, she'll just try to bring you in, make you one of us. I don't want to see that happen to you. I couldn't live with that."

He was staring up at her, his expression still so honest and affectionate. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she doubted that if she lived fifty years more, anyone ever would again.

"I…" she began, her feelings bubbling to the surface as she came dangerously close to saying something she couldn't easily unsay. "I want to spend Thanksgiving with you. I really do. So I'll see what I can work out."

"I should warn you, my sister will probably be there. We could invite Roman. It won't be like this, just you and me, but it would still be fun. It would probably be good to see if everyone gets along."

"Why?" she asked, sounding incredulous but knowing perfectly well what she hoped his motivations were.

"If things work out with us…" he began, then looked away, appearing to be carrying on an argument that she wasn't privy to. "I might be in your life for a while. If you feel like being in mine, we should see if Roman and Sarah can get along."

His face looked very serious, maybe even panicked while he waited for her response. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she nodded, "Yea. You're right."

"I am?" he asked with a combination of happiness and relief.

"Yea. I'll see what I can do."

She smiled sweetly, but quietly wished she could be normal. An invitation for a shared holiday wouldn't make most people worry like this.


The final minutes of the weekend disappeared into cuddling, sex, and whispered conversation. Kurt and Remi had been pulled toward one another so fully that leaving felt like it required an actual severing of the connection between them. Kurt could see how badly she wanted to remain in that room, away from reality. He was more than a little pleased to see the attachment she'd begun to feel for him, but at the same time, he hated that he was powerless to stop the ending of their getaway, and her inevitable return to the farm. As much as he wanted to help, it seemed like there was nothing he could do…yet.

Moments before they left their room, he took her hand and requested, "Tell me I'll see you again?"

She swallowed, looking away for a second, but then she replied, "I will do everything I can to see you again. Very soon."

He hated this sense of feeling completely at the mercy of Shepherd and her agenda, like her hold on Remi was an all-powerful and unavoidable force. He fought the urge to drag her back to bed and beg her not to go.

After she dropped him off back at the academy, he watched her drive away, realizing as he felt the aching pain in his chest that he was completely in love. This definitely wasn't a crush or a passing attraction, so denying it seemed pointless.

The following days, he felt colder, experiencing a sense of unshakable malaise that denial didn't mitigate. He concentrated on his duties, on school and training, and Sarah, trying to make one day pass into the next as he hoped that, wherever she was, Remi was safe.

He'd gone ten days without seeing or hearing from her. Ten long, slow days. Climbing into his bunk late that night, he noted how damn uncomfortable it was. The lumpy spot near his shoulders and the dip that his hip fell into had never bothered him before. Most of all, he missed the woman who already seemed to belong tucked against his side. He tried to find the right spot to sleep, shoving his arm under the pillow and listening as something fell from his bunk to the ground.

He hopped down, his roommates loudly complaining that he was disrupting their sleep. Finding the object that had fallen, a small cardboard box, he took it and climbed back into bed and turned on his reading light. His name was scrawled across the top, the smell of thick black permanent marker still lingering. There was no other label or indication of the contents. If Sarah had sent it, there would have been a shipping label, so he guessed it was a prank from some jackass at school.

Ripping back the tape, he saw an envelope inside. He laughed aloud when he read the message written on the envelope:

Miss you like hell,

Candy

His heart thudded as he realized that, somehow, Remi had managed to deliver this not only to the academy, but to his room and beneath his pillow. He wished he could have seen her, even if just for a minute or two. Tearing the envelope open, he dumped the contents onto his bunk, and saw a cell phone and a charger. He flipped it open, and inside there was a sticky note that said only Thursday 22:00.

Realizing that he still had a full day before the time noted on the message, he felt disappointed, but maybe now he'd actually have some contact with her. At least he hoped it was her, and not Shepherd or Roman who'd delivered the package. "You guys see who dropped this off?" he asked the room.

"Dropped what off?" Miller asked, sitting up and glaring in Kurt's direction. Kurt held up the box and Miller shook his head and flipped toward the wall to try to sleep.

"Silva," Kurt hollered at his other roommate.

After the third time hearing his name, Silva jolted up and asked, "What the fuck, Weller?"

Kurt showed him the package and said, "Did you see someone dropping this off or anyone unfamiliar hanging around our room?"

"No!" Silva yelled. "And if you wake me up one more time—"

"Relax, Precious," Kurt goaded, "All the beauty sleep in the world isn't gonna help your ugly ass."

Kurt lay down, tracing the words she'd written on the envelope. Only a few minutes earlier, he'd been so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open, but after he'd heard from her again, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.