This whole thing had gotten way out of control. Remi had expected him to be glad to get his wife back—sure, maybe he'd feel a little guilty, but she'd thought for sure that she'd be able to talk him into ignoring that.
Instead, Kurt had poured the ZIP down the drain, depriving her of her simple solution to her current dilemma. He'd cried. He'd told her that he loved her.
And she so desperately wanted to believe that—just as she'd wanted to believe that Shepherd had never intentionally destroyed her life, to gain her trust so she'd come back to her family.
Just as she'd wanted to believe Kurt was lying about Shepherd almost making the entire Eastern Seaboard an irradiated graveyard. And just as she'd needed to believe that pretending to be Taylor Shaw was a necessary and justified subterfuge, as she'd sought to infiltrate the FBI.
Remi trusted him—more than she'd ever thought she would. But how the hell could she trust herself anymore?
And how was she supposed to deal with his demand for her to break his heart?
"It's Jane you love," she said, making sure her tone was as irritable as she could make it. She had to make him back off this subject.
I can't deal with this.
"The first night I realised the ZIP had switched your memories, you asked me how I could be so sure of my feelings for Jane, since you'd gotten away with pretending to be her for three months. You were the one who asked me that—and now you want me to separate Remi and Jane out from each other?" He shook his head, his thumb sweeping comfortingly back and forth over the back of her hand. "You know as well as I do that you're more complicated than that, especially now you have most of your memories back."
She'd already admitted to herself that she'd changed, become more Jane than she'd ever been before the ZIP. She already knew that she loved him. But actually trusting that he could love her—the whole of her? And telling him how she felt? Those seemed like impossible walls to scale.
"Kurt, I…" Words failed her. She couldn't tell him she didn't love him, because it would hurt them both too much. But what if she admitted that she did, allowed herself to believe another pretty lie—then realised, at some point in the future, that he really only loved the Jane part of her after all? It would destroy her.
What was she supposed to do? What was the right way out of this situation?
As though he sensed her turmoil of hope and terror, he sighed and pulled her into a tight hug. Remi caught her breath as he cradled her head against his shoulder, her eyes filling with unwanted tears.
"I don't want to lose you, Remi. You don't have to say anything… Just, please, stay you. Keep fighting. Don't make me live without you."
I love you, Kurt. I love you so damn much. Fuck, why can't I just take that leap of faith? Why can't I tell you?
Fighting panic, she swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled back, unwilling even to put her arms around him. The hurt and desperation in his face stung her in turn, but she was feeling just too claustrophobic to stay.
"I need some air. I need to think." Escape on her mind—from him, from her confusion and shock, from her own hopes and fears—she turned her back on him and made for the door.
"Don't disappear on me. Not now. Not after this." His voice was low and wounded. "Please. Take a few minutes, a few hours, if you need them. But come back. Before midnight."
She hesitated with her hand on the door. Part of her wanted to rail against the curfew, but she understood his reasons all too well. "Before midnight," she agreed, without turning to face him.
Then she made her escape.
Yet again, Remi had hurt someone she loved. It hadn't been intentional—not this time, at least—but she'd still done it, and now she felt like shit, the guilt grasping at her stomach and snaking around her heart, like the tattoos inked onto her skin.
What did you think was gonna happen? That he'd be overjoyed to hear that you wanted out of this life?
She ignored the scathing thought, and sipped her third coffee since she'd fled the apartment—decaf, this time, since she was jumpy enough. She stared out of the diner window, not really registering what her gaze landed upon.
Until she'd set down the ZIP on the coffee table, she really had deluded herself that Kurt would take her up on the offer to eradicate herself, to be reborn as a fresh, new Jane. The second the comprehension—the devastation—had dawned on his face, the numb acceptance she'd been cultivating for weeks had evaporated. She'd been unable to move or breathe for a moment, as the enormity of her mistake had hit home.
All those months of struggling to not let herself be vulnerable around him—yet she'd voluntarily revealed the ultimate shameful secret, without him even having to prise it out of her.
But that almost didn't even matter now, because he'd seen through her façade, to the truth she'd never meant for him to know. He knew she loved him.
No. He suspects, but he doesn't know. It's not too late to lie to him. Somehow, I can convince him he's wrong. And then I can get away, before this goes too far.
Sure, Remi, twist the knife before you pull it out. Because that won't hurt him even worse.
She stared into her coffee cup, shaking her head. Could she even believe what he'd said? That he loved her, not just Jane? It didn't seem possible. But so many of the things in her life had been like that—so far-fetched as to seem laughable, until she'd found proof.
Then again, there could be no tangible evidence that Kurt loved the whole of her. It was the kind of thing she'd either have to trust, or…not.
She trusted him. But she didn't know if there was some angle she was missing, something that would twist everything and curdle her perception of the truth, like so many of the other things she'd taken for granted.
She'd known home meant safety, until her parents had been murdered, and she and Roman had been abducted from their beds.
She'd known she was doing good with Orion, until the first time their squad had received orders that made it clear that their commanding officers were motivated by politics, not justice.
She'd known Shepherd's intentions were to minimise collateral damage, until she'd heard Kurt detail the true horrors of what her mother had planned for Phase Two.
She'd known emotions were a weakness, until her memories of Jane's life had returned, bringing with them new lessons, new perspectives.
Now, Remi didn't know what she knew.
You know you love this man. You know that he's flawed, and emotionally scarred, but a good person.
She turned each of those so-called facts over in her mind, circling them and examining them, looking for the threads in each that, if pulled, would cause the whole thing to unravel. She couldn't find any, but that didn't mean they weren't there.
It had been three hours since she'd run out on Kurt. Midnight was still several hours away, but what would she achieve by staying here? Thinking was getting her nowhere, and Kurt wouldn't be able to relax until she got back. He'd looked terrified that she'd disappear again—he must be counting the seconds until he knew whether or not he'd scared her out of town completely.
Remi paid her bill and walked slowly back in the direction of the apartment, navigating the familiar streets without paying them much mind. When she got to the park, she veered abruptly off course, her nerves failing her once again.
She still didn't know what she was going to say to Kurt. If she went back without a plan, she'd just be fighting the urge to run within a few seconds, which would mean she'd hurt him even more.
Remi chose a bench overlooking the water, and scowled at the Manhattan skyline in the distance. Kurt's refusal to implement her plan put her right back where she'd started—she had no idea where to find more ZIP now that it was off the market, and even if she could find some…
I need you to stay you.
Don't run from this. Please.
After everything he'd done for her—sewing up her wound, agreeing to stay in contact with her after she'd pushed him to breaking point, getting the Mafia off her back, arranging Shepherd's funeral, comforting her, supporting her, forgiving her—she owed it to him to face this. Even though it freaked her the fuck out.
She still had no idea if she could admit that she loved him back, or resume the life she'd abandoned—Jane's life. But what was her alternative? More meaningless days of K and R, struggling with her loneliness and grief, choking on self-hatred until she became desperate enough to eat her own gun? She'd already tried to figure out a future that didn't include Kurt, isolating herself and trying to ignore her pain.
She'd failed. Spectacularly. Repeatedly. Even Roman, cut off from Shepherd and on the run from the FBI and CIA, had managed to build more of a life for himself than she had.
At least if she tried to take what Kurt offered, and the whole thing imploded, she still had the option of oblivion. She wasn't afraid to die. But a future with the man she loved, who said he loved her… She was almost ashamed of how much she wanted it, even though it seemed too good to be true.
A flutter of optimism—of hope—stirred in her chest, and instead of crushing it, she allowed herself to feel it. Just for a moment.
I know exactly who you are, and I love you.
She remembered their conversations about their childhoods, the fear and uncertainty of growing up as older siblings in unstable environments. How Kurt had told her—haltingly, as though he felt like he was betraying his missing wife in some way—that Jane had listened and sympathised when he'd talked about those days, but the gaps in her memories meant that she didn't quite understand, not the way Remi did.
She couldn't help but smile wryly, remembering the way he'd called her out on her bullshit in Venice, pointing out that she used verbal attacks against him as a defence mechanism against her own pain and insecurity. She'd given him more examples of that just a few hours ago, when she'd insisted that he only loved Jane, that he was deluding himself, that their relationship was based on sex and anger.
And yet again, he'd called her on it.
You're so scared of making yourself vulnerable, of being hurt again, that you're hurting yourself so I'll never have that power over you.
He really did know the way her mind worked. But if that was true, if he loved her so much that he could forgive everything she'd put him through, the question wasn't whether she could love him back. She already did, no matter how much she'd tried to deny it. Sometime between Venice and now, she'd surrendered her heart, leaving it in no man's land for him to collect if he wanted it. Even though she'd been sure he wouldn't. Even though she'd buried it where she'd been sure he'd never find it.
You don't have to do this alone, Kurt had told her more than once. Yet here she was again, shutting him out. Hiding from him. Hurting him. Repeating the same old mistakes as though that would help anything.
Kurt was offering her what she desperately wanted, what she'd never expected to earn—his unconditional love and trust. But in order to take it, she had to drop the defences she'd been building since the night of her parents' murder, decades before. She had to let him love her, and stop hiding the depth of her feelings for him.
Could she? That was the real question, the one she didn't know how to answer. Because if she was wrong…
She took a deep breath, trying to release the painful tension in her shoulders.
She'd fucked up so many times before. She'd fuck this up, too. She was already fucking it up, and she hadn't even decided to do it yet.
But that small, fragile ember of hope still glowed in her chest, giving her the courage to stand, to turn towards the apartment building where her husband waited. She was still conflicted as hell, but at the very least, she owed Kurt an apology.
I handled it badly.
Since the door had shut behind Remi, Kurt had been dissecting the conversation that had caused her to flee—trying not to dwell on the ZIP or the reason she'd brought it into his apartment, or the sickening fear that she'd disappear again, but to focus on their tones and their words, looking for any possible miscommunication between them.
Every time the dread crept in, he kept circling back around to that one thought. He'd screwed up, been too confrontational.
Despite the situation, he laughed under his breath. Confrontation was the cornerstone of his relationship with Remi. He should hardly be surprised that when he'd told her he loved her, it had been in the eye of a storm—his demanding, fearful words behind them, and her furious rejection and borderline panic about to sweep over them both, gathering them up in the same painful tempest.
But in those brief, still moments when he'd realised he loved her, the whole of her… He shook his head, staring at the hypodermic needle that still lay on the table, waiting to draw up the poison that he'd already poured down the drain.
Remi. Come home, so I can hold you again. That's all I want right now.
Strange, how he'd pointed out to her just a few weeks ago how far they'd come since Venice, when they'd almost parted for good. When he'd challenged her to tell him she didn't love him, she'd reacted just like she had in his hotel room, when he'd given her a five-minute time limit to explain what the hell she wanted from him. She'd been on the verge of panic.
Instead of backing off the way he had back then, he'd doubled down, even though he should have known it would make her run.
Not that he could think of anything he could have said to make her stay put, instead. Except for 'sure, I'll inject you with the drug that will wipe out our entire relationship again'.
He fought a wave of betrayal, knowing the knee-jerk reaction had helped to drive Remi away. This isn't about you. It's about her. She wants to die.
No. She wants the pain to stop. That's not the same thing.
Except that when it came down to the reality of it, it was exactly the same thing. He couldn't just shut off her pain like a faucet, any more than she could do it herself. And she'd already been through so much.
How could he convince her to lean on him, to let him help? It had been so much easier with Jane, and yet, not easy at all. Even as she'd confessed some of her fears and confusion, Jane had kept so many secrets, too stubborn and protective to completely trust him until circumstances—Oscar, and Mayfair—forced her hand.
But Jane had been downright dependent, compared to Remi. If she shut him out now…
The sound of the key in the door—the key he'd had to trick her into taking back, as though she didn't legally own half of the apartment—made his pulse spike. She was home, hours earlier than he'd expected, and he had no idea if he should be bracing for a battle.
He approached as Remi closed the door behind her, waited for her to turn and look at him, so he could work out his approach.
She lifted her gaze to his, and seemed to flinch a little at whatever she saw in his face. "I shouldn't have left the apartment. I'm sorry."
At least that was one aspect of vulnerability she'd gotten better at since Venice. "I get why you did."
More than anything, he longed to pull her into his arms, to hold her the way he had at Shepherd's storage locker, comforting her as she cried everything out against his chest. But if she hadn't already been in tears when he'd found her back then, she never would have allowed herself that. He didn't think she'd fall apart now, so what were his options to comfort her?
He was paralysed by indecision when she sighed irritably, shook her head, and stepped wearily into his arms.
Kurt's breath shook with relief as he embraced her, too tightly at first, then slackening his hold a little. "Remi…"
She didn't cry, not this time, but held onto him as though he was the only thing keeping her from slipping. Like she had the first night he'd 'met' Remi, when they'd been at the FBI evidence storage warehouse, as they'd waited to see if they'd be blown to pieces by the suicide vests they'd tampered with. She held him as though she was braced for an explosion that would destroy her—but she was here, in his arms, voluntarily.
Kurt closed his eyes, pressed his nose into her hair, inhaled her scent. Things he'd done so many times before, yet had feared he might never do again.
"You deserve better," she said quietly, without lifting her head from his shoulder.
She refused to let go when he tried to pull back to look at her. Avoiding his scrutiny through an embrace—not for the first time.
"Better than the woman I love?"
Remi sighed again, and finally let him go. "Let's just…sit down."
Kurt resumed his seat, glad to note that while she wasn't sitting as close as she had been earlier, at least she chose to join him on the couch. She didn't say anything or look at him directly, so he took charge of the conversation.
"I'm sorry, too. I wasn't expecting the ZIP, and I shouldn't have been so hard on you. You scared me."
Remi swallowed hard. "That wasn't my intention. Now that I think about it, it was stupid of me to even bring it up."
"Hey—no." He took her hand, shifting over a little so he could hold it between his. "I'm glad you did. At least now I know you're…"
"Weak?" The word was cleaver-sharp, but Kurt knew the blade was turned inward, not aimed at him.
He tried to keep his voice level, despite the lump in his throat. "This might make you pissed as hell at me, but I'm just gonna say it anyway."
She glanced up, sensing his trepidation.
He was far from sure this was a good idea, but at least if she got angry, she'd still be fighting."Back before I knew your memories had reset—when you were dying—I said some things. I was talking to Jane, but that doesn't make them apply any less to you."
Remi tensed a little further.
"You are the strongest person I've ever met. Most people couldn't deal with even half of what you've been through, and you've carried on through all of it. Of course you want to stop. Of course you want to rest. You can't judge yourself for that."
Remi got up, wrapping her arms around herself as she turned and walked to the window. Hiding again. He let her do it, because in her place, he'd need the same thing.
"You don't always make the right choices," he said. "But think of all the lives you've saved, with your K and R work, the FBI, the military."
She shook her head, and he knew she was thinking of the lives she'd taken, the darkness of some of her military missions, the pain she'd caused him by pretending to be Taylor. He ached to reassure her.
"I still believe that I know your heart. You want to make the world better, less corrupt. You want to protect the people you care about. You always have."
Remi turned on him with a rage he knew wasn't aimed at him. "I have ruined lives, Kurt. At the orphanage, I murdered innocent people to keep my captors from hurting Roman. Since then, I've carried out assassinations for the military, aided and abetted terrorism, infiltrated a federal agency. A whole village in Afghanistan was wiped off the map, because of me. And the vigilante killings, the bank robbing, the—"
"And for that, you think you deserve to die?"
"Or go to prison. Now the ZIP is gone, maybe I should just turn myself in."
Alarm shot through him. "No. You've been manipulated and lied to for most of your life, by people you should have been able to trust. But you've done as much good as you could with what you thought you knew. And maybe you're right—maybe I am just a corrupt Fed, after all. But I love you too much to lose you to a black site now."
She froze for a second at the mention of the black site, the haunted look Jane used to get returning to her face. He'd never dared to ask if Remi remembered before, and now he didn't have to. Remorse swept over him.
She closed her eyes, her words almost a whisper. "I don't understand."
Kurt got up and approached her. "Understand what?"
Hearing his footsteps, she fixed him with a glare that was too exhausted to be furious. As though her expressions were going through the motions, even as the emotions were muted and numbed. "Why you don't want me gone, and Jane back. You're supposed to hate me for what I did to you, what I took from you. It'd be so much easier if you did."
Even as his heart ached for her, he couldn't help but be amused, remembering all the times he'd wished he could do just that. "Yeah. It would. But you made me love you instead."
"Stop saying that." Her voice was quiet, devoid of anger, but the words hurt as much as a slap.
If she didn't even want to hear it, much less believe it, there was nothing more he could say. An old accusation of Allie's sprang into his mind, from an argument way back before Jane had come into his life. You won't let me love you. Kurt, why can't you just let me in, for once?
It had taken him until now, standing before the woman he loved, to fully understand what she meant. Remi was right in front of him, but between them was an invisible wall. She was defending herself, he knew that. But unless she stopped, he'd never reach her heart.
He began to turn away, still stinging from the rejection, but she reached out to stop him, guiding his gaze to hers with a gentle hand on his cheek.
"I just keep screwing this up." The apology in her eyes was genuine.
No one had ever hurt him the way she had—but no one had ever healed him as much, either. As Remi, as Jane, then as she was today, a combination of the two. He tried to smile, but it barely reached his lips. "You've had a lot to figure out. We both have."
She hadn't drawn her hand back from his face, and was watching him in a way she never had—at least, not since the night they'd first met. In that interrogation room, Jane had searched her memory, her gaze so intense that he'd been profoundly uncomfortable at the intimacy with a stranger.
She wasn't a stranger now—far from it. She knew him better than anyone. And he'd let her look forever, if that was what she needed. Whatever she was seeking in his expression, he just hoped she could find it.