A/N—Happy Blindspot Day! Only a few more hours until the new episode! I can't thank you all enough for helping me survive this hiatus. I'm glad the new season is finally here, because I just can't wait any longer. Also, although I am entirely responsible for any and all mistakes, thanks to gypsyscarfwoman and Snapdragon83, who have proofed many, many chapters for me. I can post so much faster with proofreaders to catch some of the mistakes that I overlook time and again. Anyway, just a few more hours to go!

Chapter 10

After Roman was gone, Kurt and Remi continued their train ride south. Roman's appearance had dropped harsh reminders of reality in the middle of their stolen time together. Remi wondered if Kurt truly believed that nothing bad would happen to him, or if he was saying that to comfort her. Although initially he'd been the one to suggest leaving and volunteered to come up with a plan, she thought perhaps she was better suited to devise an escape. She was used to a world of subterfuge and secrecy, and she knew how to survive in the worst of circumstances. He was caring and kind and beyond handsome, and, in his own way, tough, but he was still the law-abiding boy scout beneath it all. Silently she vowed to come up with a plan of her own to get them all to safety.

After seeing Roman's panic and confusion, she realized how important it was to get him away from Shepherd and their life. She knew Roman needed help. It was strange, but she'd never fully considered such things before. She knew Kurt had helped her to wake up parts of herself that had been dormant for so long that she'd thought them expelled. Once he started to show her compassion, and she allowed herself to feel it, she began to see things differently. The changes Roman noted in her weren't all pleasant. At times she was happy and in love, but as the sleeping parts of her mind woke up, it caused the surfacing of many painful memories and feelings that she was completely ill-equipped to deal with. She was quicker to anger, but also more capable of dialing that rage back than Roman was. If anything, she was even better at her work during this time, throwing herself into each task and concentrating because work was the most familiar and comforting thing in her life. Besides him.

As she stared into his eyes, she noted a hint of watery redness around the edges. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yea," he scoffed, as if nothing were wrong. His chin dropped to his chest, in some way admitting the strong emotional swell he was feeling, and it made her tears begin to pool as well. This sort of empathy was wholly new for her. "I need answers," he said, frustration showing. "I need to know how we're going to get away. I'm…" he stopped, inhaling deeply. "I don't know. Sorry."

He caught his emotions and calmed them, and she kind of hated that. "You can tell me," she nodded.

"You're gonna crinkle your nose and roll your eyes," he joked, mimicking the reaction he predicted, "so forget it."

"I don't do that!" she countered, scandalized.

"You do!"

"No, I don't," she argued again, realizing that she was already in mid-eye roll. "Maybe I do."

He grinned even though he still looked a little sad. "It's okay. It's the prettiest eye roll I've ever seen."

She crinkled her nose, but couldn't help but smile back at him, and then once she realized she was crinkling, she started to laugh, and then he started to laugh at her amusement. Trying to muster a tone of consternation, she gently smacked his face and said, "You don't know me at all."

"Obviously not."

"Since I've gotten all of that rolling and crinkling out of the way…tell me what you were going to say."

She could tell he'd wished she'd forgotten. Staring more at her chin than her eyes, he confessed quickly, his words running together, "I feel like I can't take care of you. I can't protect you. And I know you don't want me to take care of or protect you, and I know you don't think you need it, but I want to anyway." Pausing for a moment, he added more purposefully, "I wish I could make sure nothing bad was going to happen to you."

Normally she would have been irritated at best, furious at worst, but, oddly enough, it felt kind of…pleasant. She admitted, "I think I feel the same about you." Then she paused, waiting for him to balk at the idea of being protected and cared for, but he nodded.

Wanting a little space from the overwhelming emotions of the previous minutes, she said, "I don't know when I'll get away to see you again, so we better take advantage of this while we can." She reached for him, but didn't find one of the many acceptable expressions for this situation. Kurt looked hurt. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't like that, not knowing when I'm going to see you. That's all." He very intentionally smiled and said, "But we're fixing that. It's only temporary. So you're right. We should enjoy what time we have."

She stood and went to the window, gazing out the rain-dotted glass before she closed the blinds. After checking the door again because she was terrified that someone was going to surprise them, she checked under the bunk and all around the room, mostly in spaces that were far too small to contain a human being. "Just making sure," she said with a nervous chuckle.

"Good thinking," he answered, his eyes fixed on her.

There wasn't a lot of space in their private room, so even when they were apart, they were still close. She took a long step until she was directly beside him, grabbed below his knees and tugged him to the end of the bed. She wiggled until she stood between his legs, beginning with a gentle kiss that avalanched into something much more. Her hands spreading across his chest, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders before she reached over his back and yanked up his shirt, pulling it roughly over his head.

"Take it easy, I'm fragile," he smirked up at her, hooking one belt loop on each side of her pants in his fingers and pulling her in. His hands crossed behind her back, surrounding her and making her feel safer than she knew she should.

While he devoted his time lavishing affection on the space of her chest that wasn't covered by her button down shirt, she felt his legs moving on either side of hers while he tried to kick off his shoes. She hooked under his arms and pulled him up, and for a moment he seemed a bit surprised by her strength. She'd planned something more interesting for him, something seductive and sensual, but found that her desire for him won out over any other plan.

What had begun as a meticulous undressing transformed into bits of clothing flinging all around the tiny room, bouncing off walls, while mouths and hands explored whatever parts of the other were in reach. This man always made her feel so impatient. She nodded to the bed and he obliged her request and took his place there. Grabbing the upper bunk with her fingers, she swung onto the bed with him, coming to rest between his body and the back of the sleeping space. He sat on his knees, clearly already anticipating that she'd climb onto him.

Instead she moved closer, sitting on the bed between his knees while her legs bent over his thighs, her heels coming to rest behind him. Seeing his momentary confusion, she latched her hands behind his back and kissed him, her tongue moving in the inviting way that always made him groan while she pulled him toward her.

He was so busy being kissed by her that he didn't realize that she was pulling him down until his elbows crashed into the mattress. He'd become so accustomed to her usual preferences that he lifted onto his palms to keep his weight off of her.

"No," she said.

"'No' what?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Come here," she rasped, her knees bending and grabbing at his hips, her feet on the backs of his thighs, and her arms around his torso. She tightened in every place where she held him, urging him closer.

He stopped again, his face extremely solemn, "You sure? I want you to—"

"I know," she interrupted, her fingers dancing up his spine until they skimmed over his neck. "I want you like this."

"If you change your mind—"

"You talk too much," she teased, nipping his chin before she pulled down on his body again.

"You are honestly the only person who has ever said that to me."

He threaded their fingers, his hand cradling the back of hers, and brought her palm to his lips, dotting kisses along the softest spots of skin. His regulation clean-shaved face was growing shadowed as it typically did when their hours together passed and became days. He never bothered shaving on the weekends. The emerging stubble lead a path along her forearm. When his lips moved to the most sensitive spot under her wrist, she felt a chill, wondering when in the hell that had become such an erogenous zone. He continued along her arm until he reached the side of her elbow nearest her body, and she actually giggled and twisted away from the tickling sensation.

"I need to give you a lot more reasons to smile," he noted admiringly, taking her hand again and putting it against his chest.

She felt him wriggling off the side of the bed as his hand sightlessly groped around the floor for something. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"These are my new moves," he teased. "You're not impressed?" She laughed again, knowing that it happened too easily around him. He held up his wallet, trying to open it one handed since the other hand was beneath her back.

"Let me," she shook her head, taking the condom before she tossed the wallet back on the floor. "I'll bet you can find something better to do with those hands."

"You know you're right," he said before he dug the other one under her. Both of his hands trapped between her body and the mattress, he pressed firmly into her back, lifting her against his torso as he moved lower vertebrae by vertebrae until his grasp spread around the crease between her hip and leg.

She pushed him away enough to reach between them and find his sex, moving both hands over him in a slow tease that matched the leisurely pace of his touches. Continuing until she was absolutely certain he was about to rip the condom out of her hand to take responsibility for himself, she paused and rolled it on, feeling his grasp on her tighten in anticipation.

Sex between them had been somewhat athletic, typically more of a sport than an activity. She loved it, the excitement of him, their shared fitness, endurance, and enthusiasm. She had always thought that was the quality that made sex with him so fulfilling. As the two of them lie naked and entwined in a bunk and the train lumbered down the tracks, she realized she'd been wrong.

This was the least sport-like sex she'd ever experienced, slow but thorough, patient but devoted, deep and connected. Their eyes met when they could as their bodies found each other again and again, exchanging soft pants and moans that were almost a form of conversation. She allowed her defenses to relax, finding it easier every time, allowing him to move as he wished within her arms. And damn could he move.

She could feel the muscles in his back under her hands, the persistent shift of his hips between her thighs. His lips found her skin when he could, kissing her like he was revering her. Some part of her, part that used to exert so much more control, whispered that she should revile this tender lovemaking. She should dissuade him from this type of contact, ask for a good casual romp that didn't feel like it was invading her very spirit. But it felt good, too good to stop, and even though that programmed voice in her head tried to ruin it, she was becoming increasingly comfortable being so connected. And sex like this wasn't just acceptable or tolerable…it was fantastic. The voice had more to say, but Remi refused to hear it, rejecting thought and reason in favor of being lost in the experience.

He moved his palm to the small of her back and pushed up, tilting her pelvis so he could put more pressure in the right places. As if this particular round needed something to make it better.

Her tipping point approached furiously and refused to be ignored, but the moment her eyes snapped shut, she heard his voice, struggling for control, "Remi."

She didn't want to open her eyes, but she reacted to him saying her name, and when she looked, he was studying her experience of pleasure. She could see the struggle to keep his eyes open, to watch every moment of her orgasm as it swelled and possessed her. He came with her so very fast and hard, such a contrast to what had been so languid and sweet. Instead of an abrupt halt, she felt him move within her a few more times, eking out every last throb and flutter of her climax until an overwhelmed cry came from her to tell him she'd had enough.

"You okay?" he asked, shifting his weight to the side, his fingers brushing the hair back from her face.

She hummed, her needs replete, hiding her face against his neck. Yea, once in a while, sex like this would work for her just fine, although it didn't change her fondness for their more vigorous activities. Hopefully there would be plenty of time for both, some day.

"Be back," he said, pulling himself regretfully out of bed to dispose of the condom.

She felt abnormally irritated with his need to move away, and almost told him they didn't need the condoms. She had a birth control implant over a year ago, the most effective one available, and only insisted on the condoms for their various other protections. The sterner part of her brain hushed her. She was only eighteen, and, by her own admission, a screwed up mess of a human being. There would be no mistakes in this department.

But he returned quickly enough, picking her up and flopping himself on the bed with her on top of him, wrapping the blanket over her back and holding her close.

They didn't talk or sleep, lounging peacefully and listening to the sounds of the train as it stopped, passengers came and went, and then continued on. After a little while, Remi said, "So tell me more about this offer you got, the one in the Midwest."

"Some kind of training program. Sounds like Special Ops. I'm really not sure. Rensing told me that maybe they could move Sarah out there with me. I'm not sure if I'm interested, but if I agree to sell a few more years of service or work off the extra expense, maybe they'd bring you and Roman out, too. My time is all I really have to offer them at this point."

She shook her head against him, "I don't want you to sell more years. We'll find another way."

"Just temporary. Maybe a year or two extra would be enough. I'll talk to him."

"Don't agree to anything until he gives you more information. Sounds weird."

"It is weird. Rensing's a pretty weird guy, though. But it's not like we can be picky right now."

"Rensing?" she confirmed as she thought.

"Yea. Colonel Rensing. You know him?"

"Nope. I don't think so. But that name sounds familiar," she noted. After a few minutes of searching her memories, she said, "I remember…that was one of my—"

She stopped abruptly, not wanting to ruin the moment by highlighting her checkered past. "One of your what?" he insisted. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She shook her head, but replied, "It was an alias I used a few times. Samantha Rensing."

"You forgot your own alias?" he joked.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, she admitted, "I've had a lot of them over the years."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's not a very common name," she added, still thinking about it. "I haven't used that alias since…"

She bolted up, actually startling him enough that he followed her into a seated position. "What is it?" he asked.

"Distinguishing features?"

"Of Rensing?"

"Yes," she said impatiently. "Anything you noticed?"

"Uh…really tall. Thin."

"Anything else? Anything that stuck out?"

"Nothing I can think of. I mean, he was really strange but…" Kurt paused, then added, "I guess…he had creepy eyes. Kind of silvery."

"Dammit," she blurted out, feeling her chest tighten and her vision begin to tunnel.

She took centering breaths, relying on learned meditations to restrain all of those pesky emotions, shutting down her heart and becoming a strictly thinking being. She could handle this. After a moment she realized Kurt was saying her name, a look of complete befuddlement and concern on his face. "Talk to me, Remi," he pleaded.

He saw her cold expression and appeared even more alarmed. She felt her façade cracking again. This love thing was really not good for business. Softening a little, she said, "You can't go back to the academy."

"That's fine," he smiled victoriously. "I'll go to Miami with you before I go back."

"No," she shook her head, took firm hold of his forearms, and said, "I need you to listen very carefully. You cannot go back. Ever. I'll hide you somewhere safe until I can join you."

"Would you tell me what's going on?"

"I used that name for two jobs I did with Frank Doyle. He's Shepherd's friend. And my ex."

"The one who hurt you, who sold you for information? I'll kill him," he said, more out of anger and frustration than an actual declaration of intent to harm.

"You need to hide. If he's involved, Shepherd knows exactly what's going on. She sent him to get rid of you. She was probably testing Roman, too."

"He can't just get rid of me," Kurt scoffed.

"He can get rid of you. And he won't even bat an eye. There is no one more capable of making a completely cold decision than him. Trust me. That's why he's offering you this program. He's going to wipe your name from the records under the guise that you're being recruited for off-book ops. He'll take you somewhere, and you will disappear."

"General Neal would not let him do that. He would at least warn me."

"Neal probably doesn't know his plans. I'm sure we have something on him. We have so many contacts in the military and government. You'd be surprised how many people have skeletons…and how many of those skeletons we know about."

"What are we gonna do?"

"You can ride with me to Miami. This isn't a very dangerous job, so you should be alright. Just do exactly as I say."

"Wait a minute…I'm hardly a civilian. I can hold my own in a fight," he said with some offense.

"Do you want to come to Miami or not?"

"Yea."

"When we get back, I'll put you somewhere safe. I'll go get Sarah and bring her to you."

"Wait, wait. I'm not just going to walk away. This Doyle guy…he needs to pay for what he did, for hurting you like that. And we both know that if you didn't get away, it would have been a lot worse."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what he did to you, and that's enough. How many other people has he hurt? How many more will he hurt if he's not stopped?"

"You don't understand what he's really capable of. You don't know him."

"But you do. And together, we'll take this bastard down."