Author's Note: I had to do it... I had to start this one. *facepalm* I'm hopeless, but at the moment I'm all about the Reller, and this was already in my head, and nothing else was coming through, so I figured I might as well. Hey, at least I finished one WIP before I started this!

It's best to read Strikethrough before you start this one, as it's set ten months after the events of that fic. I have recounted the main plot points in this chapter, but there might be some things that still don't make sense if you haven't read that one. Changes to canon: Eve didn't die at the end of 4x07, Remi didn't break Shepherd free of the black site, there was no procedure to bring back Jane's memories on Roman's drives, Remi stole the cure from Dr. Roga and went on the run after killing Eve and sleeping with Kurt. So there are some changes between 4x07 and 4x10, and anything after 4x10 didn't happen. Also, Avery doesn't exist in this fic, because it's easier that way. :)

"I missed you so much."

Remi smiled and snuggled deeper into Kurt's embrace. His strong arms held her tightly, and though they were only just done having sex, desire rose within her again as he kissed the side of her neck.

"I haven't felt right, the whole time you've been gone."

Me either, she wanted to say. I kept thinking I saw you, but you were never there. Now that you're here, I don't ever want to let you go.

The words wouldn't leave her lips. Instead, she tilted her head to give him a kiss that said everything that she couldn't—sweet and affectionate, with just an edge of heat.

He looked down at her with hope and pain in his expression. "Don't leave me again, Jane. Please."

"Never," Jane replied, as Remi gazed up into his loving expression with a growing sense of dismay. "Being without you for so long was more than I could stand. I love you too much to go through that again."

"I love you, too."

They moved together again, their smiles fading to need as their kiss deepened…and Remi snapped back to awareness, kicking the bed sheets from her overheated body with a whispered curse.

Damn you, Jane.

For a few moments she lay there, savouring the bittersweet memory of Kurt's loving embrace. Then, unable to bear harsh reality anymore, she got out of bed and dragged herself into the bathroom, to wash away the impact of the memory-dream that had snagged her in its clutches.

Kurt Weller would never look at Remi the way he looked at his precious Jane Doe. And Remi didn't want him to, not when she was herself. But when she got back a memory of being Jane, she didn't just get sight, sound and sometimes other senses. She got Jane's emotions, too. Emotions that made her crave Weller's touch, his smile, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her.

At Jane. He would never look at Remi that way, not now that he knew she was the one in control again.

Remi scowled at herself in the bathroom mirror as she waited for the shower temperature to adjust. Yup, still me. I may not have anybody in this whole damn world, but at least I'm in my right mind again.

She stepped under the spray and soaked her shoulder-length hair. In the ten months since she'd left New York behind, it had grown from Jane's usual messy bob into something that felt more like her old self. She'd keep growing it for a while; she was sick of looking in the mirror and seeing Weller's wife.

Oscar. It's you I miss, not him.

She envisioned her ex-fiancé in her mind—handsome, quietly confident, deadly and tenacious. Grief and loneliness swelled in her chest, and she rested her palms against the shower tiles, her head bowed under the water.

On the heels of her grief came blinding anger. Jane had killed the only man Remi had ever truly loved. Remi didn't even remember it; her only proof that it had happened at all was in Jane's statement to the FBI, where she'd said she'd tried to bring Oscar in. He'd refused to go—of course—and Jane had killed him for it.

Everyone she cared about was either dead or locked up because of that bitch—in black sites she had no chance of finding now that the FBI knew she'd had a list of the old locations. The CIA would have switched everything up, leaving nothing to chance, and if there was a way to find out where the new black sites were, Remi didn't know it.

She was alone. And it was Jane Doe's fault. Jane's, and her team's. Including Weller.

Now that she was no longer dying of ZIP poisoning—and with no way to confront Shepherd about whether she'd known it would be fatal before allowing her adoptive daughter to be dosed—Remi's life stretched ahead of her, and she had no idea what to do with it. She'd toyed with the idea of starting a new organisation from scratch, exacting her revenge on Jane's friends and finding a way to locate and free Shepherd. But if she eventually went down that path, it would need to be later, after the dust had settled. Once they'd stopped expecting it.

She'd used the remaining bank robbery money she'd stashed away to fly to Europe—Serbia, to be precise. There weren't many European countries that didn't extradite wanted criminals to the States, but Serbia didn't have an extradition treaty, so it was a safe place to plan her next move. She'd spent her days exploring the cities, historical sites and monasteries of the region, and her nights studying the Serbian language, needing something to occupy her thoughts. Since she already had a good grasp of Bulgarian, it wasn't too difficult to come to terms with the new tongue, and soon she was easily able to converse with the locals.

Not that the conversations had really been anything more than small talk. Now, more than ever, Remi was keenly aware of how alone she was. Without Oscar, Roman, Shepherd…who really knew her?

She'd forged bonds with her Orion team members, but now she was the only one left. Nigel and Chris Thornton had become friends, but now Chris was dead, along with hundreds of other innocent civilians in Afghanistan's destroyed towns and cities, and she'd introduced Nigel to Shepherd, sealing his fate.

She'd made friends—more like friendly acquaintances— amongst Shepherd's ranks back home, but none were left. She'd watched the last free member of their movement, Dolan Osmond, die as a result of a car wreck. She'd pulled him back in when she'd returned to her own mind, and he'd died within two days.

Remi had to admit it to herself. She was so lonely, it was like a physical ache. Even her hallucination of Roman had disappeared, now that she was no longer dying. When was the last time she'd been touched, other than a slight brush of fingers as she took purchases from or handed money to shopkeepers?

Kurt.

Remi groaned, resisting the urge to beat her head against the shower cubicle wall. Everything comes back to that bastard. Everything.

The last time she'd touched someone for more than a split-second, she'd been stroking Kurt's face as the sedative she'd injected him with pulled him under. He'd looked at her with such fear, convinced that if she fled from him, she'd have no way to get the cure for ZIP poisoning. He'd been terrified she'd die.

That Jane would die. He doesn't give a damn about me. If he didn't think I was holding his precious wife's body hostage, he'd shoot me without a second thought. The only reason he came to help me that day was because he didn't want my wounds to get infected.

Remi swallowed the pain and tried to think of something else, but now she was on the track of reliving that day, she couldn't stop until she'd gone through all of it. The way he'd gently cleaned, stitched and dressed the injury between her shoulder blades, his careful touch sending unwanted ripples of lust through her skin. He'd sensed her desire, but had only commented on it once as he'd worked, keeping his distance.

While she'd been passed out with a ZIP-induced migraine on the cabin safehouse's couch, Kurt had put a plan of his own into motion. Not only had he told Patterson to get the CIA to move Shepherd to a different safehouse—screwing up Remi's plan before she'd had a chance to implement it—but he'd also decided Eve needed to be dealt with. When Remi had woken to find that he'd asked Patterson to broadcast the safehouse's location to the underground banker and her mercenary team, Remi had nearly screamed with frustration.

They'd prepared for an ambush, their anger and sexual tension rising with each minute that passed. After the threat was neutralised, riding high on the residues of combat adrenaline, Remi had shoved Kurt back against the wall and kissed him, desperate to release some of the pent-up emotion within her.

After yet another argument, she'd goaded him into rough, heated, furious sex that had left them both gasping and clinging to each other, overwhelmed in the aftermath of their passion. Just remembering the way he'd touched and tasted her turned Remi on. He'd known it was her, not Jane, and he'd fucked her anyway, ordering her to look at him, laughing at her assertion that she hated him.

"This isn't hate, Remi."

She'd come harder than she ever had in her life. But that was only because he knew her body from years of fucking Jane. Her body's responses had already been sensitised to him. It had nothing to do with how Remi felt about him.

It had been a stupid mistake to be that vulnerable with him. One she would never make again. Ever.

Growling under her breath, she abruptly turned the temperature dial for the shower, then gasped as the freezing torrent of water shocked the breath from her. Fuck you, Kurt Weller. I'm done fantasising about you. You were a means to an end. You're nothing to me.

After her shower, she towelled off, then blasted her hair with hot air from the dryer, avoiding looking at her own reflection. She'd admired her tattoos before the ZIP was administered, thinking they'd be a reminder of her triumph when she came through the other side of the mission, and was welcomed back into the fold. Now, they just reminded her of her failure. Of Jane falling in love with the agent she was supposed to be double-crossing. She had been so weak.

Crawling back into bed, Remi curled into a ball on her side, her arms wrapped around her own waist to try to ease the steady ache of loneliness that ate at her.

Tomorrow, she'd move on again. Right now, she was in Madrid, Spain. From Serbia, after the first month, she'd ventured into more wealthy European countries, vaguely remembering Jane had spent some time in France, Spain and Germany, working kidnap and ransom jobs under the radar as she hid from bounty hunters. Remi had made some connections and pulled in a decent amount of cash, always working alone, not trusting anyone or sharing her pay.

Something had been bugging her for the past week, though. July tenth, July tenth, July tenth… She had no idea why the date kept repeating in her mind, along with a memory of Piazza San Marco—St. Mark's Square, in Venice, Italy.

It had to be something related to Jane's memories. Even knowing that it linked to a time in her past when she'd been someone she hated, Remi was too curious to let the date pass by without visiting Venice. She'd always loved it there, and had dragged Roman and Oscar along on separate occasions, back before everything had gone so wrong.

She'd have to be careful. If it really was a date important to Jane, Weller might be there, hoping she might remember and show up. If so, Remi couldn't let him see her.

Last time she'd spoken to him, when she'd called his apartment once she'd been cured of the ZIP poisoning, Kurt had told her he'd find her and get his wife back—as if that were even possible. Even so, Remi couldn't let him back into her head. Jane was gone, and she was here to stay, whether he liked it or not.

Author's Note: I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think (of Reller, of the fic, whatever!). What did you like/dislike? (Though if you just want to tell me you hate the pairing, I could do without knowing that.) Anything you want more of? How do you think the past ten months have been for Kurt? :)