Kurt was running at top speed, ducking under low hanging branches and expertly jumping over exposed tree roots. For months, he'd been practicing moving as quickly and quietly as possible through the woods outside of New Lima, each day venturing further and further outside the safety radius in order to practice on newer, less familiar terrain. Every now and then he'd dart sharply to the left or right, throwing off his imaginary pursuers. At times he would pick a tree, seemingly at random, and launch himself up, cursing himself when he lost his footing and fell to the base, silently praising himself when he managed the task with relatively little difficulty.

He was getting stronger and faster every day. On each mission he went on with the rescue team, of which there had been eight, he found himself feeling less afraid and more confident in his abilities to not only survive, but to make sure his team made it through as well as those they were rescuing. Of course, every mission, save his first, had been safe, with no officials or rebel bands seeming to even notice that they'd been through an area. Kurt would never admit it to anyone, but he had begun to feel a small surge of disappointment each time he wasn't chased or confronted. If only he could face a little action on one of these rescue trips, he could see if all of his self-imposed training was really paying off.

Kurt pushed the thought out of his mind, refocusing on the task at hand. One small distraction and he could land on his face, tripping over something and trapping himself for the enemy. One wrong move and he could be dead. As he made a sharp turn on his heel to the right, he was startled by someone blocking his path and tumbled backward, landing flat on the ground.

"Jesus, Scott, what the hell?" Kurt yelled, scrambling quickly to his feet, refusing the hand the other boy offered. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, dropping into his path, Kurt realized, from the tree he'd just rounded.

"Shh, keep it down!" Scott hissed, not unkindly. "I'm doing secondary patrol, which you knew about."

Scott and Kurt were sometimes called upon to watch over the outskirts of New Lima whenever word came back, either from one of the teams, or one of the independent traveling factions that their community may be facing additional danger. Since the two boys from the rescue team were the community's best climbers, it often fell on their shoulders to volunteer for secondary patrol.

"What are you even doing out here?" Scott continued in the same hushed voice, "You know we're under a threat watch. It's like you're looking for trouble."

He was right. Kurt was aware that venturing out this far on a practice run was foolish, but part of him ached for a confrontation. It made no sense, and he didn't try explaining it to anyone, not Scott, not Thomas, and certainly not Blaine. Of course, Blaine seemed to be working very hard and not bugging Kurt about his assignment, his training, or anything else, which Kurt appreciated immeasurably.

"And what if I am?" Kurt, deciding to throw all of his chips in early, asked defiantly. "I've been working my ass off to make sure I can face danger when it appears, and so far it's all been for nothing."

Scott looked stunned. Kurt watched as color began to rise from his neck to his cheeks and his nostrils flared out. He realized he'd overstepped too late.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Scott whispered, his voice trembling with anger. He stepped up nose to nose with Kurt and Kurt was certain Scott was about to take a swing at him. "Do you even care about the rescue team? About our mission? Our whole purpose is to save people, not provide you with opportunities to showcase what a macho asshole you've become. Do you even realize how difficult you've been lately? And I'm not talking about the fact that you've been a complete dick to me ever since that first mission, which I've apologized for more times than I should, considering you were totally into it, as much as I was whether you admit it or not."

Kurt started to interject, but the look on Scott's face told him he should keep quiet.

"I'm talking about the fact that you go around acting like you're on a solo vigilante mission, disregarding Thomas' orders as soon as he's out of earshot and completely ignoring anything I have to say. Like it or not, Kurt, I've been doing this a lot longer than you and I pull rank. You're lucky that I haven't talked to Thomas about this yet, even though I'm putting the whole team in danger by keeping this to myself. But this is it. This ends today, right now, or it's all over for you. Do you think you're the first guy to come in here and start pulling the shit you've been pulling?"

Kurt stayed silent, maintaining eye contact with Scott, despite how difficult that was becoming.

"You're not. And the reason you don't see those guys on the rescue team any more is because they've either been reassigned to other teams, or they're dead. I know you, Kurt, whether you like that or not, and I know that you are going to end up dead before you make it as far as reassignment. Think about that."

Scott pushed pass Kurt hard and Kurt watched as he made his way back to the community border. Even at a distance, he could see the boy's shoulders still trembling, shooting rage-filled tremors down to his fingers.

Kurt was speechless, not that saying anything now to the empty space in front of him would have helped anything. He was so angry that by the time he realized his fists had been clenched since the whole incident began, he found unfurling his fingers painfully difficult. He wasn't ready to admit that Scott was right. After all, he joined the rescue team to help people, to save lives. All of his training, from sun up until sundown and sometimes later, had been for the express purpose of being able to do his job better, right?

Cut the bullshit, Hummel, he told himself. Deep down he knew Scott was right and his anger was amplified by the embarrassment he felt at being called out. Slowly, he began making his way back to the community, hoping that enough time had passed that he wouldn't have to see Scott again for the rest of the day, and hoping even more that Scott would keep his word and give Kurt one more chance before taking his concerns to Thomas.


Blaine was working on his side project, harvesting discarding building materials from the cache near the front entrance to New Lima when he saw Scott come through the opening like a storm. He'd only had a few brief conversations with the boy from Kurt's team, all cordial. He seemed like a good guy and very experienced with the rescue missions. Blaine felt better about having him out there in the field with Kurt. But Scott looked seriously upset has he brushed passed Blaine. Against his better judgement, he called out to him.

"Hey, Scott, everything cool?"

Scott stopped in his tracks and turned around, the look of rage on his face amplified.

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?"

Before Blaine could respond, Scott had turned back and stalked off. Blaine was still standing there, mouth slightly agape, when Kurt traveled the same path as Scott, only a few brief minutes later.

"Kurt, what's—"

"Not now Blaine," Kurt cut him off, not even giving him the courtesy of stopping or making eye contact as he stalked to their dwelling on the western wall of the community.

Blaine cycled through all of the scenarios that could have potentially caused the events of the last few minutes and none of them were good. Blaine threw down the piece of sheet metal he'd been inspecting and made his way toward Kurt. He'd had enough. This business of him sitting quietly at the sidelines trying not to create any waves for Kurt's sake was over.

They needed to talk, right now.