Untold Truths
by raile

Summary: When Kurt McVeigh finds out about something his wife never told him, he doesn't take it too well.
Disclaimer: the ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.
Rating: T, to be safe

Note: dedicated to Red (marysunshine81)—for this and everything else. Thank you.

He doesn't get mad at her, not often.

She's a grown woman and even though there were times she could be stubborn as hell, she rarely ever pushes him to the brink. She's got her quirks, he's got his and they're understanding and mature adults—well, allegedly. When it comes to each other, they have pretty good instincts.

At least, he thought so until he finally found something that actually made him want to physically shake her, which was startling because he isn't that kind of man. He has never lifted a hand against a woman and has never felt the urge to. He was raised better than that.

Until her, that is.

And it only pissed him off more because she was his wife.

God in heaven, he loved her and he would never hurt her, but this was the one moment he couldn't figure out whether he wanted to kiss her or shake some sense into her.

"You never told me."

"I didn't have to," she emphasized the word but it did little except just rake on his nerves just a touch more. "It was over, Kurt, a long time ago and it was long before you and I even met."

"Doesn't make it any better, Diane," he shook his head, turning away from her with a slight shake of his head, one hand on his hip the other on the back of his neck. "How do you even know it's over?"

"It is," she sounded very confident and he might have bought it if he didn't know better.

His mind couldn't help going back to old photos, to blood spatters, to things that never had anything to do with her but now suddenly found ways to replace all the faces with hers. It was unpleasant and painful and he couldn't escape from his own mind so instead, he physically shut his eyes, pressing his thumb and index finger into his eyelids hard enough to border on painful.

She watched him, calm but her eyes were troubled, watching with concern as he bent slightly at the waist. His shoulders were tense like they did when he was angry and she could tell he was very upset at the moment. She was sorry he was so distressed and something told her it wasn't a good idea to push him.

Kurt took a deep breath before letting his eyes open again, straightening up and took another breath before turning around to face her. She was leaning against the wall of his home office, hands clasped behind her and her legs crossed at the ankles. She was calm and nonchalant and that only made him grit his teeth.

"This…" he stopped, "Diane."

"What?" she adjusted her tone to make sure she didn't sound too defensive. This wasn't a situation yet but the way he was so obviously trying to restrain himself told her it wasn't far off from turning into one.

He looked at her evenly, "We don't keep secrets from each other."

"We don't," she nodded, "And I didn't. It's not a secret, Kurt. It was a long time ago, one of the many, many things in my life that have come and gone that I've forgotten because it doesn't merit much thought."

She gave him an even look and he stared at her for a moment before raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"You told me once you were a good shot," he pointed out, "Do you remember?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded, her brow furrowed. "What does—"

"You're a pacifist, Diane," he pointed out, cutting her off coolly, "I may have been distracted at the time but I was sure as hell curious how you found out you were a good shot."

He didn't have to ask the question but that certainly didn't mean she wanted to answer whether he did or not.

Diane bit the inside of her cheek, her jaw clenching slightly, "I considered owning a gun. For protection."

A slight nod, "Because of him?"

Her eyes hardened and he could see he was getting to her but he didn't feel so inclined to placate her at the moment. He wasn't trying to be polite, not right now. He was too busy trying to understand her motives for not telling him. That, and still trying to tamp down the urge to shake her.

The look on her face and the tensing of her features was enough to answer his question, but he wasn't about to make anything easy for her, "Diane?"

He saw her visibly swallow, "Yes. I considered it because of him."

"Then it does merit some thought," he shook his head, moving towards her.

She didn't make a move to stay out of his reach—for which he was grateful—but she did lift her chin slightly in defiance, as if daring him. This was the first time he'd ever reacted to her this way and he knew, had it been anyone else, they would have backed away from him. He'd like to think it was less about not being afraid of him and more about how much she trusted him enough not to hurt her.

But he wasn't in the mood to be so appreciative, even if he did feel it and instead, took her hand in his in a firm grip and pulled her off the wall. She didn't say anything as he led her out of his office and out the door.

"This isn't necessary."

"It's twenty feet, keep your eye on the target and don't overthink."

"Kurt."

"Diane."

She didn't need to look behind her—the tone of his voice said enough. He was serious and the only way she was getting out of the matter was going through with it and until he got the whole thing out of his system. The whole mess was non-negotiable and this was one subject he wouldn't just willingly drop. He rarely tested her but he could be stubborn as hell when he wanted to as well.

Diane fought the urge to snap and simply walk away even though she was sorely tempted to. She did not like being pushed and he usually didn't do it to her, but this was something he felt he needed to do with her so she let him, if only to get on with it and their lives.

"I checked with some friends of mine, Diane," he said quietly behind her, "Jeffrey Spellman was a drug dealer and he killed two people in cold blood."

"He isn't a threat anymore, Kurt, he—"

She stopped when he moved behind her and placed his arms around her, taking her wrist in his hand then lifted it up. He helped her point the gun right at the target he had set some twenty feet ahead of them.

The gun—a SIG Sauer that she knew well enough law enforcement officers including the United States Secret Service in charge of protecting the President used as their service weapon—was solid and cold in her grip, its weight all too real and easily making itself known to her. It was different from the handgun she had used with Kalinda. It was bigger, heavier and it felt more dangerous.

"Who taught you how to shoot?" his breath brushed through her hair behind her, his body close and his voice gruff. He squeezed her forearm gently and she took that as a sign to ease her grip on the gun. Her body remembered well how it felt to have a gun in her hand but she was once more understandably uneasy and the tension from his body and his closeness certainly wasn't helping that.

"Kalinda," Diane replied quietly, "A Beretta…smaller than this one."

"Good choice," he replied, "Now, hold your arm there. I don't know much about your private investigator but I trust her enough to know how to handle a gun and you're a fast learner. Do you remember what you learned?"

"I think so," she said, unintentionally echoing the words she'd spoken to Kalinda all those years ago in that empty firing range that had been darker than the one they were at now which was outdoors and definitely larger under the big blue sky. The sun was up but was slightly obscured by the clouds, but it was still a little warm out.

She was glad at least it wasn't too bright out to make tracking the target he had set hard to find. It wasn't a drawing of a person like the one Kalinda had provided for her. What she now faced was a more professional seeming target, complete with crosshairs, rings and a red bulls-eye in the middle. It was pristine, new and ready for her first shot and whatever else may come.

Surprising her for a moment, she suddenly felt his feet nudging her legs a little further apart, his tan work boots nudging her black riding boots gently, "Keep your feet planted and bend your knees, just a little."

Diane followed, swallowing the urge to object and did as she was told. She was suddenly very aware of every muscle in her body, particularly the ones pressed against him, not noticing how her knuckles were turning white as she held on to the gun. She scarcely noticed her arms were shaking but he calmed her with a hand on her shoulder, pressing down gently before moving along to her hands.

His hands adjusted her grip again and moved to her hands, covering hers with his, his index finger slipping next to the one she had on the trigger.

"Kurt," she said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically small.

It felt good having him pressed against her like that, close enough for her to feel his heart beating against her shoulder and her back. He stood behind her, solid and hard, his chest firmly behind her and his body warm. He smelled like the way he always did, like something she could never quite name but would always know to be his.

Kurt smelled like himself and it was enough to ease the tension of being given such a powerful weapon once more but did little to ease the tension of his simply being so close that he never failed to elicit in her.

But while she was caught in those feelings, he didn't seem to notice them. If he did, he was much too focused on the matter at hand and as well as his own emotional response to the things he had just found out. She wasn't sorry about not telling him, but she was truly sorry about how it was affecting him.

It was such a macho response that would have earned him an eye roll if he wasn't reacting this way. He was taking this further than she'd have expected—an overreaction perhaps, but she wouldn't say that to him. He was a man who was reacting to a threat, no matter how dormant it was, and he was feeling overprotective and afraid. She understood him and why he felt the need to make her go through with this enough to try and not push back as much as she usually would have.

"Shh," he hushed her and spoke in a more soothing voice, a departure from his earlier gruffness, "Concentrate on the target, Diane, just see it and focus on it."

Kurt looked at her, catching her profile as she followed his direction, keeping her eyes on her target and her stance never wavering. He still stood close to her, but had allowed to ease his hands slowly away from hers until they slipped completely away from her body. It was then when he moved barely an inch away from her a slight breeze caught them just as he breathed in.

He did not miss her scent wrapping around him like an invisible veil. It was her perfume and while there were many she wore, including Chanel No. 5, his favorite scent on her will always be the more aptly named Opium by Yves Saint Laurent.

It was the kind of deceptive scent that started off reminding him of flowers but always transformed into something more intense and spicy. He had taken his first waft of that scent on their first date, that night when she'd worn that blue dress and he hadn't been able to help himself when it came to kissing her. The scent was perfect for her and it mingled effortlessly with her natural scent—he never got tired of that combination and could rarely ever resist pressing his lips upon her skin whenever it and she invaded his senses.

"Don't overthink," he reminded her again in that same soothing voice and she had to fight not to just buckle completely under the sensations like some serotonin junkie with no self-control, "Just relax…pull the trigger."

The report of the gunshot was loud in the open range and the recoil she hadn't quite fully prepared for jolted her shoulder back just slightly. Diane gasped, her eyes widening for a moment before blinking her eyes a few times, her eyelashes fluttering. She looked away, her hand shaking slightly and lifted her wrist to her mouth then swallowed hard while the hand holding the gun dropped to her side. Her heart was hammering away in her chest, seemingly ready to burst right out of her.

Kurt reached for her, his hand sliding to her lower back while the other slipped up to her shoulder where he'd seen it jerk at the recoil, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said tightly, whatever effect his being close to her gone now and was rapidly being replaced by both adrenaline and a touch of instinctual fear. She couldn't help but swallow again, this time with a degree of difficulty as she suddenly felt as if everything inside her had gone dry.

He rubbed her lower back gently as he looked past her, nodding once before looking at her once more just as she turned her back against the target, "You hit it…right next to the bulls-eye."

Diane nodded, handing him the gun but he shook his head slightly. When she didn't feel him take it and looked at him, he did it again, "What?"

"You're not done yet," he said simply.

"What? Kurt, that was close enough. I think that means I'm done."

"You nearly hit it once, Diane, but you're not done," he said, "You have to get comfortable with—"

"Kurt, for god's sake, please," she said, "I'm not buying a gun and I'm not keeping one."

"Diane, I am a ballistics expert," he pointed out, "I'm surrounded by guns."

"Well, it's not as if I will be touching them, let alone firing them," she crossed her arms over her chest, "Kurt, I don't like this…this feeling that comes with it. It unnerves me."

"Why? Because you like it?" he asked completely deadpan.

"Yes," she answered, holding her head up slightly, "I don't like that I like it, Kurt. I don't feel like myself…I scare myself."

"I know," he nodded, "But you can't let that take over you. This guy—"

Diane held her hand up, "Is gone, Kurt. He's gone. He's on parole and so far, he's done nothing but get on with his life and—"

"He killed two people in cold blood," Kurt cut her off, "Two grown men, Diane. I saw the crime scene photos. He shot them and he let them bleed slowly until they died and—"

"Stop it," she glared at him, not at all pleased to have the entire matter rehashed again. She's done her fair share of thinking about the things Jeffrey Spellman had done and had worked hard over the years to put it in the back of her mind. She didn't want to have to go back there again, not even with him.

But for once, he didn't seem willing enough to hear her, "—and he spent ten years in prison and spent those years blaming you. He's quiet now, but how can you be sure that will always be the case?"

"Kurt…" her tone was full of warning, but he kept going. Why? She didn't know but she was getting more upset as he kept on pushing. She could feel the blood thrumming in her ears.

"People have killed for a lot less. He lost ten years of his existence, pathetic as it may be. And I'm sorry but it's a reality that bad things happen to people and it's people who're responsible for those bad things."

"Stop this," she closed her eyes, trying to rid her mind of the images that had dug themselves up from her memory. Ten years later and she could still see in her mind the damage one man had wreaked in a bout of violence and rage. The blood, the bodies, the gore—the rage on his face whenever things didn't go their way, the anger he had directed at her the very moment the verdict came in.

It made her nauseous thinking about it and here was Kurt now, reminding her of the things she had done so well pushing out of her mind the last few years. They hadn't been locked in her memories as well as she'd thought.

"—I'm not going to sit idly by and allow you to be blindsided when I could have done something about it in the first place!"

"Kurt, stop it!" she yelped, flinching as she pushed the gun into his hand, "Stop this right now!"

"Diane—"

"No, I am done," she pushed past him, intent on taking the short trek back to the main house only to have him grab her wrist. She didn't react too well to that, practically hissing and tried to snatch herself away from his grasp but he held on to her firmly but not enough to cause her any discomfort. "Let me go!"

Her thunderous eyes met his but he simply looked at her, keeping a hold on her for a moment before turning towards the direction of the target. He gave her the briefest of glances before abruptly letting her go and raised both hands, gripping the gun expertly.

And without warning, he then proceeded to empty the clip, hitting the target and the area surrounding it successfully with barely a blink. Each shot rang right off the other successfully, one loud report of each shot exploding again and again, until the telltale click of an empty clip was all that was left to be heard.

Diane had barely managed to cover her ears and hadn't even been able to do so too well. Out in the open field, it wasn't as loud as it was contained in an enclosed firing range, but for someone who wasn't as used to the sounds of gunshots as she was, it left her ears nearly ringing and her head spinning. She could taste something metallic in her mouth and it only added to the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach.

Breathing a little heavily, Kurt turned to face his wife and found her staring at him with one hand over her heart and the other with her fingers over her lips, "Diane…"

"No," she took that step back from him she hadn't taken earlier and this time, he knew he had scared her only it had nothing to do with trust or the threat of being physically hurt. He had hurt her already by scaring her—with the gun or his own fears or both, he wasn't sure. But he couldn't let that stop him from what he had set out to do.

"Do you have any idea how good a shot I am? How good at this I can be?" he asked after a moment, glancing at the gun in his hand before looking back up at her, "Do you?"

She shook her head slightly, her cheeks pale and her eyes wide. She didn't look like he was used to seeing her, so confident and so bold. In that moment, she seemed so deceptively vulnerable, so quiet and he was almost sorry for doing this to her.

"I can shoot any gun and I am a damned good marksman," Kurt said, his voice gruff and gravelly, "I can take a shot at anything and I can be sure as hell, I'm going to hit that mark…it's what I do."

Kurt debated within himself for only the briefest of moments before taking a step towards her. He almost expected she would take another step back or at least push him away but she stayed in place, staring at him, unmoving and maybe a still a little hurt.

"But do you have any idea how much it terrified me when I heard about this bastard?" he asked her quietly, putting the gun aside, "I don't know him, Diane, and I have never heard of him until I came across his name by complete accident…but he scares the hell out of me."

He reached for her hand, taking it in his and pulled her towards him. Her legs were shaky and she still refused to speak but at least she allowed him to touch her and pull her close. He moved one hand to her waist while the other held her by her wrist once more, his eyes meeting hers even though he could still see a flicker of doubt in those blue-gray orbs. Under his fingers, her pulse raced.

She looked right at him, her eyes wide and a little dilated, her lips tightly shut and tense. He stared at her for a moment and sighed quietly, letting go of her wrist. He then reached up, pushing her hair away from her face clumsily, "He scares me because of what he might do to you, Diane. He is a criminal and he threatened to hurt you…it might be over, but you can't be sure, not with these kind of people."

Diane bit the inside of her cheek, "But he's gone and—"

"I ran a check on him," he said carefully, "He's still in the same state, Diane and so far, he's still doing well in his parole but I'm not going to put my trust on a killer, do you understand me?"

She shook her head, "I think you're overreacting."

He nodded, "I could be, but I'm willing to take that chance. I won't be here all the time to protect you. I leave, I go out of town and Chicago isn't exactly the safest place on the planet. I'm not asking you to holster a gun on wherever you go. I'm just saying…I want to make sure that if anything happens, you will at least have some basic knowledge of what you can do to protect yourself."

Diane shook her head slightly, "God, you're giving me the gun control speech…"

Kurt grinned, chuckling at her as he pulled her in for a hug, "I'm not. I know you're a fascist—"

"Wha—?" she reared back, pushing against him in surprise.

"Pacifist," he corrected, laughing at the indignant look on her face, "I misspoke. Pacifist, not fascist."

Diane gave him a glare but it wasn't meant with ill will, "You are a jerk."

"I know," he nodded and pulled her to him, his hand slipping to the back of her neck, the other sliding to her lower back. He held her against him in a tight hug, breathing in her scent again deeply and let it out in a sigh, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

She nodded, but didn't speak and instead, wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I can't lose you, Diane," he said to her squeezing her gently. "It took a hell of a while to find you…I'm not ready to lose you and I don't intend to, not if I can do anything about it."

He waited for her to speak, to say anything, but she didn't. It worried him and she felt it but could not trust herself to speak, not yet.

"Diane?"

Kurt pulled back, only to feel her press her face into his shoulder, holding him tighter and breathed him in deeply. He felt the slightest tremble along her shoulder and berated himself internally, realizing then what she was doing. The tremble was followed by another and he felt her breathe in deeply once more, feeling her warm breath against his shoulder. She still didn't make a sound and instead, continued to cling to him, her fingers curling at his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

Feeling terrible now for the whole episode, he decided it was best he continue to hold her, leaning against the table where he had laid down the gun, holding her to him and allowed her all the time she needed. He reached up, weaving his hand into her hair and trailed his fingers along the back of her head soothingly.

He hadn't meant to scare her so much, or at least hadn't set out to do so in the beginning. He'd only wanted her to understand what he was feeling and why he needed to see for himself just what she was capable of. He wasn't sorry for what he'd done, but he was sorry for causing her such distress. It may not have been the best choice of protecting her, but he'd found himself simply reacting and had let his emotions take over.

Kurt was more than aware of what she did for a living, of the people she worked for and while he may not like it sometimes, he'd been willing to stay out of it. He had married her, after all, not her job. But finding out about Spellman, about the history there and the facts that she had neglected to mention even now—facts he had meant to bring up but now didn't feel inclined to—had been something completely out of left field. He knew she worked for dangerous people, he just hadn't really imagined she'd been under threat at one point or another.

And that was just one thing she didn't tell him and with a career history like hers, what else could be there? He didn't like the very thought there could be others but he wasn't naïve enough not to think so.

By the time she was ready to face him again, she gently swiped at one cheek before looking up at him. Her eyes were red, evidence of what she had refused to let him see and he was wise enough not to mention it. She gave him a shaky smile before pushing herself up to place a kiss on his lips, her hands on his chest, over his heart.

"I'm sorry," he told her when she pulled away, brushing her hair back, "What I did…wasn't very nice and I lost my head for a moment there, I know. I didn't set out to hurt you. I wouldn't."

He almost seemed desperate to make her see how much he meant it and already, she could see the regret he was beginning to feel for what he'd been forced to resort to. She loved this man, she did, despite his overprotectiveness and his overreaction.

Diane nodded, patting his chest with one hand slightly, "I know."

He seemed unconvinced and she was almost sorry for not saying anything more, "I just—"

She stopped him by gently putting her fingers over his lips, effectively silencing him. She looked at him for a moment before looking right into his eyes and nodding slowly, "I know."

They looked at each other, both silent, their eyes saying everything that they couldn't, at least, not completely. She understood his actions and he had his explanations, just as she had hers, but for now, there was an understanding there. It may not say much but they know each other, more than one would expect for two people who hadn't known each other all that long.

Diane took his hand in hers and pulled him forward, wrapping her arm around his middle and silently urged him to walk. She stayed close to his side, leaning her head on his shoulder just as he wrapped an arm around her, settling a hand against her hip. Neither said a word until they finished the short trek back home.

Not unlike when they'd first started out with each other, she didn't quite need too many words to understand him just as he understood her. He would always think about her, would always have his fears and she understood that. She felt the same way and while she was better at reigning in her emotions and fears, she knew it would always be love that would drive him to his rare extremes the way it had done to him that day. It wasn't always pleasant and there would be times, like today, where she wouldn't agree with his actions, but she understood what the reasons behind those actions would be. And she loved him for them.

She was his wife and he was her husband and while there were still things left unsaid, some truths still untold, for now, they understood. In so many ways, in so many unspoken words, they understood.

And for now, that was enough.