Chapter 11

When Kurt woke on the train a few hours later, Remi wasn't beside him. He didn't think he'd heard the train stop, because typically he woke whenever it did, but it was possible that he'd slept through one. Finding a reading light on the wall near his head, he turned it on, seeing Remi's clothes still on the floor, and he doubted she would have left without them. Besides, she had been so concerned about making sure he was safe that he knew she wouldn't leave him there alone. He stood, pulling on his shorts because he certainly didn't feel like fighting someone naked.

He heard a repetitive sound that he couldn't place, and looked onto the upper bunk. In the far corner, he saw Remi's back, but little else of her. He climbed up with her, turning on the light on the upper bunk and realizing that she was curled up in a ball, seated upright, facing the back corner. She was rocking ever so slightly, sort of like Roman had when he had become agitated.

"You okay?" he whispered, noting that she didn't react at all to his words.

Coming carefully closer, trying not to startle her, he put a hand on the middle of her back below her neck and started to speak. He never got a chance to say anything more. She whirled around so quickly that he swore he never even saw her move, her hand catching his and shoving him back, nearly propelling him off the bunk and onto the floor. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, her lips in one resolute line. As soon as she realized what was going on, he could see the moment of recognition, like the ice melted and she was free again, and she grabbed onto him so he wouldn't fall.

Once he realized he wasn't going to tumble to the ground, he looked at her face and saw fat streaks on her cheeks left behind by a deluge of tears. Using the back of her forearm, she wiped away the dampness as she asked, "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine," he answered, shaking his head to dismiss her concerns. "Completely fine. Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Is this because of me or something I did? Because of earlier?"

"It's not you. Not at all. I should have warned you. Sometimes I have dreams. Usually I don't seem to have them when… … when I've been with you. I think Roman coming here, and Frank being back in the picture kind of raised my level of concern."

She began to shiver, and he couldn't tell if it was from a physical or emotional chill.

"He is not back in the picture. Not really," Kurt said, pulling the blanket up from the lower bunk and slinging it over her shoulders.

She half-smiled, acknowledging his thoughtfulness.

"He's around, but he will not be able to get close to you. Right now, you know he's still out there. When we're done with him, you'll know he won't ever bother you again," Kurt said.

"I think I'm more disturbed that he went to find you," she confessed. "I brought him right to your door, put you in danger. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault. This just proves that you and I need to stick close. I'll watch your back. You watch mine. I need to go back to the academy to talk to General Neal, explain to him why I need to take a leave, see if he can help. Then I can be by your side and—"

Remi interrupted with her actions, scooting close to him and resting her head on his shoulder. She fell asleep again rather quickly, and he sat propped in the corner, his arm around her shoulder as he held her.

She was so strong and self-reliant, and he wondered if her tears emerged when she slept because she refused to allow them to fall at any other time. He recalled their conversation from earlier, especially when she said that Roman needed help, and Kurt began to realize Remi probably needed help as well, far more than what he had initially thought. The first priority was getting her out of Shepherd's weird gang and somewhere much safer, with Doyle behind bars. Once she was safe, maybe there was someone out there who could help her and Roman deal with the past. Although he'd underestimated the toll her life had taken on her, it only made him more resolved.

It felt a little hypocritical to even think about counseling, since he'd railed so thoroughly against shrinks and virtually any and every one who'd tried to help him deal with Taylor's disappearance, but he wasn't sure what else to do for her. He could love Remi, devote himself to her, but that probably wouldn't help her deal with the buried pain that haunted her sleep.

Remi seemed to feel much better in the morning. He was lying in the bunk, still trying to sleep, while she pulled his pants up to his calves. She reached for his hands and dragged him upright until he stood, and he offered a fake whine for effect. "We should take a cruise, or find a beach. Stretch out in the sun…"

"You want to go on vacation and stretch out? You're a wild man," she teased, pulling his pants up to his hips and zipping them.

Watching her hands, he teased, "You're dressing me already? Is this practice for when I'm too old to do this for myself?"

Her eyes widened a little and he suddenly realized the implication he'd made.

He took his shirt from her hands and put it on, and saw that she was studying him with a less than approving look.

"What?" he asked, hands moving out to the side. "Something on my shirt?"

"We need to change those clothes."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" he asked.

"You're just…you know."

He tilted his head, leaning forward slightly. "I'm what?"

"Well, you look like…a cop," she answered, practically spitting the last word.

"What?" he scoffed, then laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yea," she said. "Maybe an undercover one, but still a cop. The offer stands. I can drop you off somewhere safe—"

"Not going to happen," he interjected.

"I figured. But if you want to come, we're going to have to mess you up a little."

"I love how you mess me up," he flirted, watching her slow grin appear before she flushed slightly.

"This guy we're meeting today," she said, readdressing her focus, "he's harmless. But he has some useful skills, so we need to be on the lookout for other people who might be interested in using him. Make sure no one gets the drop on us, keep our eyes out for any of Shepherd or Doyle's people. We need to be ready for anything. Do you have a gun?"

"What?" he asked. "Not on me. I have my service piece but—"

"I'll procure you one," she replied matter-of-factly.

"We really need guns?"

"We need weapons, Kurt," she answered solemnly. "If you want to do this, you want to try to stand up to Doyle and Shepherd…this isn't the small time anymore. This isn't training missions and playing soldier in the woods. This is real. People are going to get hurt, possibly killed. I need to know that you understand that."

"I do," he awkwardly admitted.

"It's okay if you want to sit this out. I can handle it. We can move you and Sarah somewhere secure and—"

"No," he said, raising his voice. "We do this together. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and hope you're okay, so let's settle that right now. Quit asking."

"Okay," she answered, appearing to be pleased with his decisiveness.

"But I think you owe me some answers about Shepherd, about what's going on."

"I know," she agreed. "Shepherd and Doyle are part of a network of militia groups. They feel the government and the military are corrupt. They use a variety of methods to control people in key positions…usually secrets, blackmail. But their ultimate goal…is complete change. Destruction of the government and society and—"

"Wait," Kurt said, taking a moment of quiet to sort through the information. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I am trusting you not to tell a soul."

"I won't, I just…I figured it was drugs or illegal weapons or something."

"There's that, too," she admitted. "They have to fund and arm their operations somehow."

"Damn," he said, clearly still stunned.

"This is what I've been trying to tell you, Kurt," Remi said, putting her hands on his upper arms to make sure she had his attention. "These people are serious. They will do whatever they need to do."

"Then so will we," he replied, his mind whirling at just the idea of what her life had been like. No wonder she and Roman were so damaged.

She seemed satisfied, then paused, her forehead wrinkling in thought. "There's something else," she said. After he nodded, she continued, "I've been involved with these people. I've done things, bad things."

"You were a kid when they indoctrinated you and—"

"I don't need excuses for my behavior," she replied coolly. "But you should know…if I am ever arrested and tried, I will probably go to prison for a very, very long time."

"Is that who you still want to be?" he asked a bit worriedly.

"No," she replied after adequate thought. "It isn't. But it doesn't change what's already happened. And it doesn't change how dangerous it is for you to help me."

"I'm going with you. And as far as I'm concerned, what happened in the past is the past. We can start a new life, leave all this behind. What happened to you…the way you were raised…it isn't an excuse, it's context. You were never given a chance to be anything or anyone else. You have that chance now. You can choose who you want to be."

Remi took him to a thrift store and bought him different clothes that looked more worn than his own. He seldom wore anything besides uniforms and workout gear. He sported a hat and sunglasses to hide his face, but the weather in Miami was a far cry from home, and just taking a walk in the tropical air of southern Florida made him sweat.

As they walked, he wondered how often she went to bed in a different part of the country from where she'd woken up. She certainly seemed adept at this. In fact, as far as he could tell, she looked like a perfectly ordinary person taking a walk on a Saturday evening. She took his hand, occasionally pretending to glance inside a shop window or pause to look at a cute puppy out for a walk.

Their travels brought them to a storage warehouse, and she entered like she'd been there a hundred times before, without having to search for security codes or find her way through the halls. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Locating the precise unit with ease, she already had the key in hand. She rolled up the door and gestured for him to enter. After they were both inside, she closed the door and pulled the string on the single bare lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room.

The inside of the unit was full of ordinary looking furniture, a sofa, dresser, wardrobe, and piano. There were a few boxes around, many partially open, and inside some he saw books or dishes. This appeared to be a perfectly ordinary storage unit.

She went to the upright piano, opened the top, and lifted a rack from the compartment where the strings should have been. Several weapons hung there, ranging from very small handguns to larger high caliber weapons, and even various knives. She took two handguns from the rack, sliding a combination lock to remove them. He wondered how she knew all of this so easily, but she didn't appear to be in the mood to share secrets.

"You know how to use this, right?" she asked, handing him a gun.

"You know about my training, don't you?"

She watched, waiting while he slid out the clip and realized he didn't have any ammunition loaded, but she approved of his ability to handle it.

"You shouldn't need that," she added, securing the rack back in its original spot and stepping behind the wardrobe, "but just in case, it's always better to have protection."

At the back of the wardrobe, she lifted a fake panel, reaching inside for ammunition and tossing four clips, one at a time, to him. Four clips seemed like a lot of ammo to carry 'just in case,' but he had to accept that he was in her world now. From the false bottom of a box, she grabbed stacks of bills, each carefully wrapped, and tossed them in a backpack.

Standing right in front of him, she waited while he slid a full clip into the gun and stashed the other clips on his person. She dropped to one knee, lifted one of his pant legs, and secured a knife with a nylon belt. Once she also put her weaponry into place, she looked at herself in a full length mirror inside the wardrobe door, and appeared satisfied that everything was properly concealed.

"If there's trouble and we're separated," she said, like a commander giving orders, "you return here. The front door code is 4-3-5-2-2. Here is a copy of the key. You wait here for two hours. If I don't return in that time, go back home, get your sister, and disappear."

"I'm not going without you."

"If I don't get back here in two hours…there is no more me. Understood?"

"Yea," he muttered unhappily.

"What's the code?"

"4-3-5-2-2," he immediately responded, and she smiled proudly. "Is this how you always prep for a not-so-dangerous mission?"

"No. This kid we're meeting is more annoying than dangerous. I'm more concerned about running into Shepherd or her people on the way. She knows about this meet." Then, as if she remembered something, she asked, "You aren't a jealous kind of guy, are you?"

"Uh," Kurt began, wondering what in the hell he was getting into. "Not really. Depends, I guess. I'm not interested in sharing, if that's what you mean."

She chuckled, "No. Not sharing. But this guy likes to flirt, and he's really persistent. So be ready."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I'll have to get used to a lot of guys flirting with you," he admired.

"But he won't just flirt with me," she warned. "Let's go."

Remi's missions were almost always solo, not that she minded having Kurt along, but it was different. At least it was another set of eyes. In truth, she could handle Gord Enver and his pathetic excuse for a posse with both hands tied behind her back, but mostly she wanted to see how Kurt would handle a mission, and this one seemed a safe way to test him. He was handling it pretty well, so far.

She thought he looked a little more on edge than a really seasoned operative would, but overall, he wasn't terribly conspicuous. Remi doubted that Shepherd or Doyle would move on them here, but they knew she understood the workings of their organizations, so it was possible that they'd change tactics to catch her off guard. Occasionally, the realization that she might betray Shepherd, the only "mother" she'd really known, would come to mind. She thought it would be best to try to convince Kurt that the four of them should all go on the run, forget about Doyle and Shepherd, and choose safety over justice or revenge.

By the time they arrived at the meet, it was after dark, the nightlife just beginning to rise. It was loud and bright, easy to be distracted or surprised, so in a lot of ways, this was the perfect test for Kurt. Surprisingly, he seemed even more at ease once the situation became more confusing, and she liked that about him. She already knew that if she wasn't in love with him and ready to leave this life behind, she'd try to recruit him. Shepherd would likely be quite pleased with his abilities, although she'd probably never allow them to see each other.

Remi strolled past a line that was waiting at the club. At the door, there were two very large bouncers. Remi stepped behind the one who seemed to recognize her, her body partially hidden by the door and the bouncer. The man took out a small flashlight and nodded at Remi. She turned to the side, lifted her shirt near her hip a few inches, and showed the bouncer the proper tattoo. He compared it to a printout, then nodded for her to enter. Reaching past him, she grabbed Kurt's hand and said, "He's with me," pulling him between the glowering guards.

She felt Kurt staring at her, all of his previous questions about the tattoos bubbling inside his head. Perhaps they should have talked about them before. Still, he was able to keep his cool and his focus when he needed to.

Inside, the room was alive with moving bodies crammed onto the floor, bobbing like a single organism. She walked around the edge near the wall, Kurt's hand in hers. She wondered, fleetingly, what it was like to be one of the people who came to actually dance, drink and flirt. Maybe one day she and Kurt could come to a place like this, holding each other tight, an island in the center of chaos.

In some ways, they already were an island in the center of chaos, and had been since they'd started seeing each other.

But they weren't here to dance, so there was little reason to think about that. She went through a door hidden behind massive sound equipment and went up the narrow wooden stairs. They emerged in a large, mostly-empty attic, the bare floorboards beneath their feet thumping from the music below. "How is it possible that you look better every single time I see you, Remi?" a voice came from on top of a partial stage that had been stored there.

From the look on Kurt's face, she could tell this guy wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"Always a pleasure, Enver," Remi dryly said. "You have what I need?"

"Slow down," he said, hopping down from the stage, trying to look cool, but losing his footing a bit.

Remi knew he was a tool, but no one hacked faster and harder than Gord Enver, and they knew enough about him to put him away for the rest of his life, so she trusted him to keep his mouth shut.

"Who's the new guy?" Gord asked, standing in front of Kurt and admiring him. "Trying to get me to lower my price?"

"You deal with me," Remi said, grabbing the kid by the ear and bringing him back in front of her. "You don't see anyone else."

"He's pretty damn hard not to see."

"Do you have what I need or not?"

"God, I love a driven woman. I think it's possible you and your compadres have underestimated my value…who else could give you all of this—"

Crossing her arms, Remi interrupted, "Get to the point."

"I think it comes down to a supply and demand sort of economics thing. I have a service that no one else can offer at the same level of quality, some would consider it an invaluable service—"

"Name your price," she affirmed. "As long as it's under eleven."

"Eleven?" Gord scoffed, shaking his head, "I thought we agreed on twelve."

"We did…" Remi replied, "until you decided to try to dick me around."

"Fine. Twelve."

"Eleven. But if you want to negotiate further, we can make it ten."

"No! Fine. I—I—I was just kidding anyway. It's no problem."

Remi noticed that Kurt looked at her, his eyes squinting slightly as his brow furrowed. For the most part, he'd been looking around the room, doing a great job of appearing bored and impatient, as she'd requested. She casually took a side step, like she was considering her next move, but really she wanted to see Kurt better. Then she noticed that he had his hand across his stomach, and was tapping his fingers in a pattern. First he'd tap one finger higher, next he'd lower his hand and tap two fingers, and then he'd repeat the sequence. It definitely looked like he was signaling to her about other possible parties approaching, but she wasn't sure if he was acting intentionally.

Gord was rambling, and Remi noticed when Kurt put all five fingers on his stomach and counted down five-four-three-two-one, and she spun around, finding two armed guards wearing ski masks behind her. They weren't well-trained at all, and she disarmed one with a single hand. When she looked to her right, Kurt was there. He had Gord's head under his arm in a headlock, and, while keeping the hacker restrained, he disarmed a second gunman. She still had her backpack on her shoulder, completely undisturbed. The humiliated attackers ran, and Remi didn't care to chase them. She was there for Enver and the information he had.

Once everyone was taken care of, Remi turned and looked at Kurt. He was so incredibly attractive to her in that moment. This wasn't the time for those sorts of thoughts. For some reason, she'd dismissed his training, but she was honestly impressed. It wasn't as if they'd developed any agreement on codes or practices, but they already communicated so well when things got hairy. Kurt tried to appear like this was all perfectly ordinary, but she saw the proud expression on his face before he asked, "You okay?"

"Yup. You?"

He nodded, and Gord argued, "In case you didn't notice…still trapped here."

"Deal with it," Remi said, nodding at Kurt, who seemed to understand that she wanted him to look for weapons. Kurt found one gun on Gord, but he pointed it at the ground and squeezed the trigger, unleashing a popping sound and a pellet.

"Is that a BB gun?" Remi angrily questioned.

"Looks real, doesn't it?" Gord asked, smiling nervously at Weller.

"Nope," Kurt instantly replied. "It looks like a damn toy."

Remi approached and immediately pinched a nerve in Gord's neck and watched him drop to his knees. "What the hell was the deal with that little ambush?"

"A joke!" Enver insisted, unbelievably. "Just a joke between friends. Hahaha! Don't you get it?"

"Did you think it was funny?" Remi asked Kurt.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head obstinately. "No. I didn't think it was funny."

"You didn't amuse my partner here," she said, "and you didn't amuse me. So no…not funny. The only funny part…was that you thought that pathetic group of friends of yours could get a drop on me and you could try to intimidate me into paying you more. Huge mistake."

"A misunderstanding. You know this was really a fantastic life lesson for me…I've learned a lot here today. Maybe I could give you a discount?"

"Do we accept coupons?" Kurt asked Remi.

"I don't think we do," she replied.

"Come on, Remi, we're all friends here," Enver pleaded.

"We are not friends," she responded. "And my partner was right, we don't take coupons, but I do occasionally accept favors."

"Sure," Gord too enthusiastically agreed. "What do you want?"

"First things first…where's the intel I already asked for?"

"Over there, on the stage. Third board from the front is loose."

Kurt jumped up while Remi kept a hold on Gord. He found a very thick sealed folder which he tossed to Remi. She looked inside and nodded. She let go and took three steps back, "This stunt today is gonna cost you."

"I figured that was coming," Gord complained. Then, somewhat opportunistically, he said, "There are other favors I could offer you and your burly friend here."

"What have I told you about that?" Remi sneered.

Gord sighed and looked away, seeing that she wasn't going to continue until he answered. He mumbled, "Not even if hell froze over, pigs could fly, and I was the last person in the universe."

She opened her backpack, tossing a few stacks of money at him. "The rest is yours if you get me some more intel. And it's gonna be hard to find."

"What do you need?" Gord asked, appearing pleased that his skills were recognized.

"This one is tough," she began, giving him details about Frank Doyle so Enver could research.

"It's not gonna be a problem. It'll take time, but—"

"You have two days."

"That's impossible," he argued.

"Then the rest of the money is mine," she countered.

Enver shook his head, then bragged, "Well, if it is possible, I'm the guy who could do it. We meet here?"

"I'm not coming back again. You come to me. I'll send you the details. I'm the only contact you speak with. Are we clear?"

"Of course."

Remi took long, certain steps toward the stairs as Kurt followed.

She paused once more, turning back and adding, "If you bring your friends to a meeting with me again, I will make sure—"

"I get it," Gord interrupted. "No more jokes…funny or otherwise."

Once they were outside, Kurt beamed at her and said, "Not too bad, for our first job together."

She took his hand as they walked onto the still vibrant streets. "Not bad at all," she replied.