Uneven Odds

Countryole is the sole reason this story exists… the title shares a name with a song she sent my way… this is what came of her generosity… I hope you enjoy…

…Maybe your light is a seed

And the darkness the dirt

In spite of the uneven odds

Beauty lifts from the earth…

The air is thick with summer and heavy with silvery evening twilight. The scent of honeysuckle, cut grass and sunshine speak of endless days, and shorter nights.

There's a boy and a girl running in circles, chasing shadows and the neighbors dog from one lawn to the next; her dark hair flying wildly in her wake, his longer legs taking shorter steps to keep in line behind her. They're both laughing with a madness only children understand.

A woman calls from the center house and dog, girl than boy all turn towards her voice. At the last moment the girl veers left, grabs the lowest brach on the closest tree and launches her small weight into the tangle of limbs. The boy falls in line with a grace that suggests it's a regular occurrence and follows her up, their laughter is more breathless, less madness as they concentrate and climb.

"Careful." He warns as she reaches higher, moves quicker than she should. He moves twice as fast as she does, he holds nothing back here, unlike on the ground below. He's passing her even as she turns to tell him not to worry and then she tries to follow directly behind him. She's hot on his heels, trying so hard to keep up with him, feels like she's always one step behind, always wanting to be his equal.

He hears her following and instantly slows down, turns to tell her to watch her step. He's always worried she'll get hurt. Always watching out for her. But this time when he turns to call down to her, she's right behind him, feels his foot make contact with her hand and all of a sudden she's falling.

The woman is calling from the door, the dog barking from below, the boy shouting and shimmying down the tree, they all seem so far away as she falls endlessly to the ground. She doesn't scream, doesn't shout, just shields her face as instinct takes over.

He's the one who's screaming, who shouts her name over and over as he makes his way down to her. She's sitting with her head in her hands and there's blood in her hair, scratches running down her arms and her deathly pale cheeks. When he makes it down to solid ground, when he looks down at her and finds her wide frightened eyes, he know what it is to love.

"I'm okay." She tells him, bravo laced in fear shaking the edges of her voice. She's trying so hard not to cry, to be brave and strong like him, but all at once he has her face pressed to his shirt, has pulled her in so close. The warmth and the care of his hands as he brushes her hair aside, holds her bruised fingers in his; it makes her think of her mother, of his mother and father; the ones she runs to when she's hurt or scared.

The dog whines and paces in the background, pokes her nose where ever she can to get as close as she can.

The boy presses the collar of the girls shirt to the top of her back and she can't help the quick intake of breathe as the pain kicks up. She fights the tears a little harder now, turns her face up to keep them from falling, to keep him from seeing and ends up looking right into his eyes.

And they're just as full as hers are.

"Come on, we need mom to take a look at you." He says it and she hears the tremble of fear in his voice, feels his arms shake as he holds her to him, as he tries to help her stand. It's then that she knows that he's afraid, and if he's afraid she knows for sure that she is too. "Can you walk?" He asks her as he loosens his hold, just leaves the tips of his fingers along the outsides of her little arms, right at the edge of her t-shirt. The dog jumps up again, little whimpers of fear pressing out with each panting breathe.

"Down, Sadie!" He shouts and the dog cowers back a few feet, sits and watches with a hanging head.

She wiped her eyes, as the tears finally find a way to fall, "I'm fine, Kurt, I promise. Don't shout at her, she's scared too."

…

She wakes with a sharp, hot, fear of falling, the kind of rush that comes when sleeps about to claim you, only now it's shaken her awake from those deep, dark corners where only dreams should find her.

She's shaking and sweating and she's pretty sure those are tears on her cheeks. The boy and girl are still swimming in her mind, images that were just so strong and fierce and full of life are now wisps and shadows and blurry memories. She can't deny the faces, those children she's surely never seen before, but knows them better than she thinks she does.

Kurt's smile. Her eyes. His laugh. Her hair.

She reaches back over her shoulder, passed the oil derricks, right above his name and finds the scar her dream had given her. She doesn't think, she just acts. Doesn't care that it's nearly two in the morning or that he's more than likely fast asleep; she needs to tell him. Needs to hear it from him and know that it's real. She needs to know if it's a memory or a projection of her own needs and wants.

"Jane? You okay?" Is his answer on the second ring, voice clear and strong like always, and it anchors her, keeps her heart level and her head calm. "Jane?" He asks again, a little more worried, a little less patient. She can hear him moving; blankets, clothes, footsteps; knows she's thrown him into his protection mode.

She's horrified to find she can't wait for him to show up.

"Weller, I'm fine, really I am." She pushes the words out but he doesn't slow, she hears the jingle of keys, the soft click of his front door, "I just had a dream, it's silly, I'm sorry I called."

"You sure you're okay?" He asks and she can tell he's in the elevator. He's still on his way, and she hesitates, can't tell him not to come, because she needs to see his face. "I'm on my way. I'll be there in twenty." She lets out a breathe she didn't know she was holding and nods before she realizes he can't see her.

"Okay. I'm sorry I-" he cuts her off before she can continue, "Jane, take a deep breathe, I'll be there soon."

"Okay." She whispers but he's already gone. She looks down at her shaking hands, the rumpled bed, her sweaty skin and knows she needs to pull it together before he shows up, before he draws his own conclusions and she ends up worrying him even more.

…..

When she opens the door to him moments later she's freshly showered, hair wet, skin smelling clean and delicately female. She opens her mouth to speak as he closes the door behind him and he cuts her off, takes her arm, "if you're going to apologize again I'm only going to tell you to forget it so maybe we could skip this part." He smiles when he speaks and it makes her feel that much more foolish, it makes her think of how his mouth still moves the same when he smiles, even after so many years."

She reaches over her shoulder again, meets his eyes in the lack of light as she lets her fingers slide against the raise line of her scar. "Tell me how this happened?" She asks him softly. When he doesn't move, doesn't shift or blink, she takes his arm in turn. "I mean I know it was falling out of the tree, but tell me how you remember it."

She knows there are questions in regards to who she really is. Knows there's doubt, conflicting evidence and a plethora of opinions. She doesn't care. Because if her dream and his memories share a story, none of those things will matter. She knows they don't matter to him. Knows he's sure of her, sure of their history and his past, but if this turns out to be real, it'll throw any trace of doubt to the wind.

"Kurt?" She brings him back to the present with a small squeeze and a gentle push. He steps away quickly, as if she's burned him. He takes a seat on the couch and watches her as she walks into the kitchen, gives him a moment while she fills glasses and comes back with liquid comfort and courage.

"It was summer," he starts after he sips, "middle of July, the kind of day where it's so sunny and bright that as a kid you would almost swear it'll never get dark." He sets the glass down, looks down at his hands as he continues. "We were chasing the neighbors dog. It was so hot, but you wanted to run, to be outside. My mom called us in at least a dozen times, bribed us with ice cream."

He looks up as she sits across from him on the lip of the coffee table. Her knees brush his as she slips into his space. She offers him that small smile that only tugs the one side of her mouth. She has to know it drives him crazy.

"I think we ran for hours, at least it felt that way back then." He reaches for his glass at her hip, sips again and watches the pale light throw shadows in the amber liquid.

"My mom called again, threatened us to some extent because I remember the three of us knew she meant business. Then I don't know what made you do it, but you made a beeline for this one tree. We'd been climbing it for days, you'd gotten so annoyed with me because I wouldn't let you go too high."

"Always the protector," she says softly as she sips her drink, he can see her hands tremble slightly in the darkness. "Did I ever get as high as you?"

"You tried, you always tried." The smile falls away from his face all at once, "but you didn't get too high this time. You turned to me when I called for you to slow down and missed the branch you were reaching for. I turned to look down at you and I stepped on your hand." He runs his hands through his hair, rubs his eyes before he continues. "It felt like you were falling forever. When I finally got down you were sitting there bleeding, trying not to cry."

"Sadie was barking, jumping all over." She whispers and his eyes cut to hers so fast and sharp she can't help the quick inhale. "You were just as scared as me," she keeps going, "I was trying so hard not to cry because I didn't want you to see me as a baby anymore. I knew you were mad because I never listened."

But there are tears on her cheeks now, and she doesn't care if he sees them. He cups her face, brushes them as they fall with the pads of his thumbs.

"You remember?" He asks on a breathy exhale, his eyes so wide and bright and hopeful. She makes a bold move and threads their fingers together where they rest on her cheek, rests the other hand on the curve of his knee where it bumps hers.

"I wasn't sure at first." She starts, and all of a sudden she's afraid of her footing and yet so sure of who she is, it's the strangest of conflicting feelings. "It was a dream, but it was so clear I could feel the sunshine, taste the honeysuckle, smell the grass." She inhales deeply, feels like it's the first time in forever that she can shake that feeling of loss and longing, "I was there, watching the boy chase the girl and the girl chase the black and white dog. I could hear them laughing, the dog barking, the woman calling for them." She looks up at him and again and he's smiling, that same smile she'd watched flash across the boys face, the same one he gifts her with so seldom now. She can't help but smile back. She takes his face, both hands cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing his lips, fingertips at his hairline, "When I started to climb, when the boy passed me by, he turn to me with this same smile on his face." She brushes just the tips of her fingers along the length of his lashes, "these same eyes, with that same worried look, staring down at me when I'd fallen," he grips her wrists and the gesture makes her brave, makes her feel stronger than she thinks she ever has. "You loved her so much, I could feel it when you held her, I heard it in the fear in your voice." He pulls her towards him, shifts his weight until their so close she can feel his breath on her face.

"Jane," she loves the way he says her name, like it's sacred, a secret, something only they share.

"She loved you too." She whispers as she watches his smile thin and his eyes go bright. "You were everything to her." She closes the gap between them, takes his mouth once, twice, "you still are." She breaths into his mouth as he pulls her to him. They're a mass of tangled limbs and shaking breathes and trembling heartbeats. He presses his face to the curve of her throat, sets his cheek against the bird in flight.

"To this day I've never stopped." His voice trembles as the words tumble out, and he holds her so tightly she can barely breath, she hopes he plans on never letting go.

"Stay?" She asks softly into the cotton of his t-shirt along the rise of his shoulder. He pulls her with him as he settles back along the couch, tucks her into his lap. He wouldn't dream of leaving.