A/N: Ownership: I don't own Glee copyrights. I have tonnes of dvd's, cd's, paraphernalia which includes my Intellectual Property of Imagination. I also don't own anything but love for A Change in the Weather and cacophonylights.

I'm Australian, this has all great inspiration from our lovely island. This particular starting scene starts at Bulli, New South Wales, just before the Bulli Pass.

I Wanted this to be an independent story, for the moment I'm going to publish here under our great love of Glee. However, as my baby, please substitute the following, and change to the cast mentioned.

Kurt - Scott, played by a very young Richard Gere.
Tina - Claire, played by Scarlett Johansen. ~ Blaine - Paul, played by Andy Garcia.
Every story needs some original characters, *Harley - played by Ashton Kutcher. *Charlie - played by a very young Kevin Kline. ~ Rachel - Charlotte, played by Makyla Smith.
Sebastian - Jaxon, played by Fabrizio Filippo. ~ *Isabelle – played by Rachelle Lefevre.

~ Read, enjoy ~

Trigger Warning: 'cause I keep doing these things. So tread carefully, knowing all is always well. I write things getting better, always.

Chapter 5 prelude:

A quote from A Change in the Weather, by cacophonylights on LiveJournal.

'There. That moment right there, was the l last time I existed the way I was before, because in the next moment everything shifted.'

This is relevant, because the rest of that story is amazing, and that sentence sentiment is HUGE in our lives too.

~ Travelling the White Line ~

Chapter Five.

Honesty.

Trust issues and honesty, two currencies Kurt values, as we all should.

The crisp morning air hits his nostrils quite sharp, it also freshens the delicate skin of his face.

The motel owner had said to stay rugged up, trustingly he did that, and appreciated the advice.

Looking from where he stands, high up the side of a mountain, the sea seemingly within arms reach but at least twenty kilometres away, as the crow fly's. From where he is, observing the wildlife and freshness all around, leaving his old life was becoming a Godsend decision.

A flock of native rainbow lorikeets are picking up the seeds, left in the tray on the balcony. He feels he's part of the canopy of the bush, his sight admiring a koala in the arms of a gum tree, sleeping and rugged up in her fur.

The motel owner walks up behind Kurt, "How'd you sleep?" he enquires.

"Really well, thank you." Kurt tries to remember the last time somebody had asked him a question, and actually seemed interested in the answer.

The owner offers Kurt a mug of hot cocoa. "Here I made this for you, it'll warm you up."

"Thank you! But I didn't order any drinks."

"I know, I just made a drink for you, no strings attached." He furrows his brows and pushes the cup toward Kurt again. Wondering how uncomfortable some people must feel if they think they have to pay for everything, and are just treated as a person and not as a consumer.

They sit in the deck chairs, on the balcony, overlooking from the side of the mountain, toward what would be a valley if there were a surrounding hillside, but there's just trees for kilometres that eventually join the beach and then the sea.

Deck chairs interrupted with matching wooden tables. They sit quietly, Kurt huddled around his mug for more warmth. The owner sits back, relaxed, one hand on the arm of the chair and the other holding his mug by its handle. Both men are wearing woollen beanies, heavy coats sitting just below their waists, warm waterproof pants and winter boots.

"What did you want for breakfast?"

"Oh, I haven't ordered breakfast. I was going to buy something down the road. I didn't think you had a breakfast menu."

The owner looks at Kurt with certain disbelief. "Listen I know you paid for a room and a meal, but not all things have a price tag and not all offerings are because you might have ordered them." He gets up and looks down at Kurt, "I'm offering you breakfast because you need to have a hearty meal. I'm not asking for you to pay for it. We don't all operate that way."

"What do you mean by 'we'?" Kurt isn't sure who the owner's talking about, him as a business man or being a person. Whatever the reason, he doesn't like the way the man said 'we'.

"I mean us Aussie's, and those of us in the tourism trade. Sometimes when you're invited to join in, it's just an invitation to be included. Now enough with the prattling on, I'm cold and hungry and going inside. If you'd like to join me for breakfast then you'd be very welcome. I'm making scrambled eggs with fried tomatoes, fried mushrooms, onion and toast. That's for me, I have other breakfast food you could choose from. See you in there."

Kurt watches as the owner walks around the balcony and enters the shop front. He notes it doesn't really feel or look like a shop front, considering inside has only got a cash register and a few items advertised for sale. The rest of the interior seems like someone's really big kitchen and lounge room combined, with lots of extra tables and chairs and couches.

He gets up and follows where the man walked, the burning coonara heater looking really inviting. Opening the door he wishes he hadn't left his gloves in his room.

Making his way between the tables and chairs, he chooses a table closest to the coonara. Sitting with his back to it, he looks at the table setting and wonders if the owner is going to bring a menu out.

As he twiddles with a napkin his eyes watch the birds outside, listening to the breakfast preparations from the next room his mind starts to blur and he starts to fall asleep.

With his eyes shut, unaware if he's really asleep, the tinkering of whisking eggs and milk blends with the gentle scraping of the fry pan. Sharp cuts of the tomatoes join the short cuts of the mushrooms, slicing of the onions and the bread suddenly jumping out of the toaster.

The old style kettle boils and he thinks of cinnamon in his hot chocolate. If he'd opened his eyes he'd see the owner actually putting the food on the table in front of him, as opposed to hearing this happen. There's a moment of nothing, then footsteps in the kitchen, nothing and then cutlery being put alongside the plates.

The smell of the cooked meal makes his stomach growl, eyes still closed the sound of the wood breaking in the coonara happens as his hands hold his tummy.

Feeling hotter he opens his eyes with a start, shudders and takes his coat off in a hurry.

A fright is what he looks of when the owner comes back from the far side of the room.

"Oh so you decided to wake up, good. Do you want tomato sauce or Worcestershire sauce?"

"Pardon?"

"Here, I've got back pepper or white pepper if you'd like, also some salt too. But trust me, it's nicer without extra salt."

Kurt looks at the items the owner is talking about, and sees ketchup, black sauce, salt and powdered pepper.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They eat without conversation, each using a serviette when necessary.

The owner finishes first, clears his items and comes back with two coffees. He gives one to Kurt and takes his own to the couch.

He sits back on an angle, away from Kurt, but still able to look at the fire and out to sea. His left arm on the arm of the couch, coffee on the side table, a leg rested up on the other's knee. Leaning back he rests his head and rests his eyes too.

Listening to the birds, the fireplace and his unexpected guest eating.

Food finished, cutlery put on his plate. The chair is put in to the table and he senses Kurt walk to look out over the morning scenery.

A thunderous roar is felt approaching the building, then its sound comes closer, eventually it passes through and fades to the other side and the owner nods recognizing the truck and who should be driving it today.

He sighs with content, this was a great decision of his, swapping the busy city career for a more relaxed interesting life.

The peace and tranquillity are interrupted with his guests unusually pitched voice, "I suppose I'll get going then." The owner looks up, somewhat groggy like and Kurt comes in to focus. "Did you want me to clear the dishes?"

"No, my wife will be here soon and if I haven't cleared them, then she will."

"Well, um thank you."

"You're welcome, enjoy the rest of your holiday."

He looks at Kurt with a nothing expression, just waiting for him to leave. Kurt looks at him wondering if there was more to the conversation that he should continue to say.

They look at each other, Kurt looking at the man's debonair sophisticated hair style clashing with his wardrobe style. The man looks at the guest who is somewhat more than just another tourist.

"Don't forget what I told you."

"Oh, right about the …."

"Yeah, about that."

Awkwardness over, Kurt decides now's the right time to leave. "I'll just pack my car and go then. I might come back this way on my return trip."

"No, the way you've told me of where you're going, it'd be out of your way to come here."

Not really wanting this to be the last time he ever sees this man, Kurt makes a resolve to come back this way, even if that means going out of his way.

He nods, takes a step back and turns around. Taking a few steps forward and then he stops, closes his eyes and takes a few breaths.

He shakes his head, not caring if the man sees him do this. Opening his eyes again, looks at the supposed interior of a shop, he blinks, doesn't move his head but looks down to the right focussing on behind him, aware of where the man is sitting on the other side of the big room.

Thinking and biting his bottom lip up, This won't be the last time you see me. I won't let it be.

He lifts his chin up and refuses to look back. He goes to his room, that his car was parked in front of, opens the door and picks his cases up, that were just inside the door.

He puts them inside his car and goes back to survey the room for anything left behind.

Checking over the room, sparse but for a comfy mattress and scenery outside of it, nothing of his is there. Now, nothing but a presence of a memory.

A lorikeet says goodbye as it fly's passed. He turns around, gets in his car, turns the key, checks mirrors, seatbelt. Adjusts the music from the stereo, checks for traffic, indicates to go right.

If he had of looked back at the owner, the man, the keeper of his last twelve hours, he would have witnessed the movement and sharp finish of a line.

He would have witnessed the raising of a date.

Decline.

"Oh my Lady GaGa Help me!" Kurt's hand automatically smashed to his mouth, and then as furiously was thrown at the steering wheel to do as obeyed.

This was no mere decline of the road. This was nothing like the pictured road sign of a car in descent. His eyes could not get any wider, without popping out of their sockets.

Trucks were required to use low gear.

His heart was racing, wasn't it? It was still beating, right? RIGHT? Not like it had never raced with excitement or adrenaline overflow before, not like this.

"Oh, Vogue me now." He momentarily looked down from the scene before him, slammed on his brakes and quite frankly refused to move his vehicle.

His vehicle, that was glued to the side of a mountain. The cars behind started to sound their horns. "P… off!"

Everything the old man had said, had been true. He thought they were folk stories to scare the bejesus out of travellers.

But this was true, this Bulli Pass was really insert typical Kurt upset word true.

Angled more than forty-five degrees STRAIGHT, F….G DOWN, on the side of mountain.

The car is idling, his left foot hard on the clutch, the gear in first, his right foot just as hard on the brake pedal. His hands on the steering wheel, seat belt is tight on his chest.

The car is snug in the middle of the lane, a smidge from the centre white solid line, no passing allowed. The oncoming traffic making it's way slowly up on his right. Then there is the side of the mountain, the side that he so desperately wants to hug, but he can't because he's facing the wrong direction.

More horns are sounded, he flickers his lashes and very carefully looks in the right sided mirror, their lights are flashing too. He blinks, sucks in his bottom lip and bites it hard, hoping that the magical switch to pause the world might be within that vicious but intimate gesture.

Blink, blink! As if everything will change if he moves too fast, he oh so slowly moves his head and eyes to the rear view mirror, to see the same car behind him on a different angle. The driver has rested his head on a fist and is speaking with someone on his phone.

Kurt's eyes go even slower to the left of the car, seeing the glove box and then eventually the window and the left mirror. The cars are just visible, as is the side of his car.

Another blink, and then his eyes widen with the drop of his lip, opening of his mouth so delicately just a tiny bit and his tongue holds still allowing his breaths to pass it. The sea is way to his left, way out yonder, with the edge of the earth calling his name and the edge of the road dropping away and making him feel faint.

A police car and fire truck can be heard coming up from below and their lights flash in to view. This takes Kurt's mind away from the beckoning water and fall. He can see the car and truck moving just below on his left, coming upward and around and now he sees the police officer looking up at him. Then his eyes are in front, the fire truck driver looks his way too and then back to the way it's travelling, which becomes further to Kurt's right and centre.

Soon enough the fire truck pulls up behind the police car, on Kurt's right side. They're both parked on the actual road, and traffic behind them halts.

Looking out of Kurt's right side, he watches as the police officer and the fire man walk directly to him.

The officer knocks on his window and waits for him to open it.

"Yes officer how can I help you?"

"Mr you're blocking the road, do you need help?"

"Oh am I, I didn't realize. Umm…."

"Is your vehicle having difficulties?"

"No sir."

The officer had been writing down his answers, and now looks at the key in the ignition. "Is there a reason you're not moving then?"

At this point Kurt blushes deep red, looks over his shoulder at the car behind him, up at the officer, down left at where the descent will take him and back to his dashboard. The fireman comes around from the officer and puts a hand on the door. "Hi there." He says oh so very firmly but oh so heavenly delightful.

Kurt looks up to him. Blinking slow and then furiously, Kurt's face burns even more as he notes the fireman has the most gorgeous brown eyes and long eyelashes. He reminds him of someone he thought he knew, someone he misses so much. But this fireman doesn't have any other looks of similarity.

"Would you please pull the hand-brake, turn off the ignition and step out of the vehicle?" asks the officer, the fireman nods at Kurt to do as instructed. He also happened to blink, which Kurt misinterprets and purses his lips, licks them and ends up with the bottom lip sucked in and bit.

Trying to put his mind in to gear he near jumps sky high when the officer steps to one side, allowing the fireman to open Kurt's door. Shakily Kurt turns back to his vehicle and feels himself being wrenched from a nightmare.

His leg muscles are suddenly yelling at him with a burning ache, yet his Achilles tendons are firmly telling him they're okay. He pulls the handbrake, and turns off the engine. Removing the keys, he then unclips his seat belt.

An adrenaline rush hits his stomach and feeling he might throw up he grabs at the opened door, scrambling for the sick bag in the door pocket.

The police officer steps further away from where he had come back alongside the passenger side, the fireman also stands up whilst taking a tentative step out of harms way.

Leaning downward Kurt holds the bag waiting for the inevitable to happen. When the moment passes he grabs his stomach and leans against the pillar.

"Okay sport," says the officer, "time for me to take over. Go with Buster here and I'll move your car out of everyone's way."

So called Buster reaches for Kurt's hand and helps to escort him over to the fire truck. Wondering what Buster does outside of fireman duties, Kurt's felicity fades when the other police officer finishes her notes and gets out of her side of the police car.

The policeman gets in Kurt's sports car, adjusts all his settings, smooths his hands over the steering wheel, and revs the engine, wanting to zoom down the steep embankment but does as required, he turns the vehicle around and drives it back up the hill.

"You can come with me, I'll drive you back up the hill." Says the female officer, and Kurt's hand instinctively goes to hold the fireman for moral support.

His hands land on Buster's biceps, which was unfortunate because their firmness further unravels Kurt's ability to remain cool, calm and he also hasn't been collected since before he started this part of his holiday, this morning.

Buster escorts him to where she just got out of the car, he sits Kurt in and clips him up. Kurt can't help from audibly breathing in his scent of cologne and manly fireman yumminess as his body leaned over him, whilst doing the said seat belt up. He smells divine! Thinks Kurt, clenching his fingers between his legs and trying really hard not to hug Buster.

Buster makes sure to not further complicate matters by not taking too long to remove himself from Kurt's personal space. He firmly shuts the door, folds his arms on the open window and winks to the female officer. "I'll see you up the top Betty."

She winks back, "See you up there." Kurt is looking between them, from his left to his right and back, his felicity falling again.

Buster puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder and says, "See you up there, too." His hand that was such a firm grip, reassuring Kurt that even though they don't bat on the same side, he doesn't dislike him as a person.

Kurt manages to just whisper, "Yes, see you up there Buster."

By now the traffic going downward has stopped looking at Kurt, and is steadily increasing. The traffic wanting to go uphill has started one or two horn sounds of annoyance.

The female officer turns off her flashing lights and starts her car back up the hill.

Buster climbs in to the fire truck, turns off his flashing lights and proceeds to follow her direction.

When they all come together in their vehicles, up the top of the hill, an ambulance has just turned it's flashing lights on, and is now slowly, carefully, no hurry required at all, coming down the hill. Making it's way to the local hospital, where it's passenger will go in the back door and after necessary documentation, tears from loved ones and other necessities, will also leave via the back door.

~ r i p, all those who have left us behind ~