Kurt is tying his bowtie in front of the mirror one morning when his phone starts ringing on the bedside table. He pauses, glancing at his watch with furrowed brows – Blaine is not supposed to pick him up for work for another fifteen minutes, and he doesn't really get calls from anyone else these days, at least not this early in the morning.

Besides, Blaine's more of a texter anyway, just like Kurt himself is.

The phone keeps ringing, though, the sound echoing through the loft, and Kurt huffs, ignoring his bowtie to glance at the screen. It's an unknown number, something even more unusual, and for a brief moment Kurt's old con-man instincts get the best of him. Unknown numbers usually mean that someone's trying to contact him for a job; that something needs to be stolen and Kurt's the right person for the assignment, that somewhere there's a museum or an art gallery waiting for him to break into it, and he can feel his heart stuttering inside his chest with trepidation – until his current life forces itself back into his mind again.

Right. He's not a con-man anymore. There are no jobs like that calling out for him, no old criminal contacts who would call him from untraceable phone numbers to get him to rob a bank. There's just the FBI, the loft around him, the suits in his closet – and Blaine.

That's the final thought that pushes his old instincts away for good. Kurt can still almost feel the ghost of Blaine's touch on his skin, even if it's already been a few days since the last time they made love after going to see Rachel's play. He can still remember Blaine's careful and caring fingers mapping out his muscles and cataloguing each reaction, his soft lips soothing away everything Kurt's body has had to go through during his previous life.

The phone stops ringing all of a sudden, and Kurt blinks back to reality. He focuses on his bowtie again, finishing it with care before he finally snatches up his phone from the table and calls his voicemail. He balances the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he listens to the robotic “you have one new message” line and starts going through his pockets. Keys, check; lock picks, check–

“Oh. Um. Kurt?”

Kurt freezes, almost dropping the phone. It's been almost a decade, but he'd know that voice anywhere. He listened to it through all of high school, sometimes even a bit too much to his liking; heard it sing and scream and laugh and squeal, and only a few days ago he heard it fill a theatre with its power, clear and full of emotions.

“I... I wasn't expecting a voicemail,” Rachel's voice continues against his ear, sounding uncharacteristically unsure. “I don't honestly even know what I was expecting. But... I got your flowers? They were lovely.”

Kurt closes his eyes, swallowing painfully against the lump in his throat. God, Blaine was right, even Santana was right – he misses Rachel so much, misses their friendship and the whole particular brand of insanity that is Rachel Barbra Berry.

And it hurts to hear Rachel speak in such a careful manner when they used to be completely honest with each other about everything and anything.

“Anyway, I'm... You said in your card that you'd like to meet me,” Rachel continues, “and that your life is different now, and I...” She obviously hesitates, and Kurt can almost see the worried curve of her eyebrows in his mind's eye.“I have a busy week coming up, but I'm going to be in our usual café tomorrow at one, if you're free as well. I mean, you can come have lunch with me, or– or you can just text me, or something. How does it even work when you reach out for your best friend after nine years? Obviously this is something NYADA failed to teach me...”

Kurt snorts against his will, blinking his eyes to keep the sudden tears from falling.

“In any case,” Rachel says, her voice sounding more decisive, “I hope I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt, or at least hear from you. I have so much I want to tell you and ask you and I...” She pauses again, sighing. “Well. I'd just like to meet you as well. That's all.”

The message ends with a click, and Kurt lowers the phone slowly from his ear, staring at it for a long time. He was the one who suggested the meeting in the first place, in a moment of impulsiveness, but he never imagined Rachel would accept it so easily. What if... What if she hates him for real and only asked him to meet her so she can tell him face to face to never contact her again? Or what if she won't be able to forgive him – or won't apologize for her own mistakes, both equally bad options?

What if meeting Rachel again would be nothing but a mistake, a horrible mistake that's going to mess up the neat life Kurt has managed to build up for himself from practically nothing?

His phone buzzes with a new text message, and he almost drops it in surprise.

From Blaine:
Your lift is here, Mr. Hummel ;)

Kurt takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces his rapidly beating heart to calm down. He still has over twenty-four hours to figure out what to do, and he's survived much worse. He can do this. He will do this. He drops his phone in his pocket, plasters a smile on his face and leaves his apartment, hoping that seeing Blaine will ease up the storm that has taken residence inside his head.

Except it takes Blaine barely two seconds to realize that something's wrong.

Kurt has just closed the car door behind himself and turned to lean over the center console to kiss Blaine good morning, when he sees Blaine's smile fall and his eyes turn worried so fast that it's almost a bit scary.

Blaine immediately reaches out for Kurt's hand, squeezing it gently and searching his face. “Hey, hey – is everything alright? You look like you're going to be sick.”

“Is it that obvious?” Kurt sighs. “And here I was thinking I was actually good at faking a smile...”

The corners of Blaine's mouth quirk up in a small smile. “You are,” he admits, “just not with me. Now, seriously, is everything alright? Or... or is it something you don't want to talk about?” he adds carefully.

Kurt averts his eyes, looking down at their joined hands and moving his thumb slowly over Blaine's knuckles. It's weird to realize that his first instinct isn't to close up anymore, but rather to let Blaine in.

“I got a call from Rachel this morning,” he confesses quietly, keeping his head down.

Blaine's hand tightens against his own, and he's silent for a while, obviously surprised by Kurt's words. When Kurt finally looks up, Blaine is staring at him, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

“She called you?” he asks after a moment, his voice low, and Kurt nods. “What did she say?”

“She...” Kurt pauses and takes a breath. “She wants to meet me. Tomorrow,” he adds.

Blaine's eyes widen even more and he slumps slowly against the car seat. “Wow. I thought she would call, but I didn't expect her to be this... prompt.” He meets Kurt's eyes and squeezes his hand again. “Do you think you're going to go see her?”

Kurt lets himself lean against his own seat as well, letting out a sigh. “I honestly have no idea. I was the one who suggested the meeting in the first place and I do want to meet her, but I'm...” He glances at Blaine, at the understanding expression on his face, the softness of his gaze, and reminds himself that this is Blaine – he doesn't have to keep his feelings a secret from Blaine. “I'm terrified, to be honest.”

Blaine's lips turn into a gentle smile. “No wonder. I think anyone would be terrified in a situation like this.” He straightens his back and moves to rest his other hand over their joined hands as well, rubbing Kurt's fingers in a soothing rhythm, as if he's trying to warm them up. “But I guess the question is which one's stronger – the terrified feeling or the urge to see her.” He tilts his head. “And guessing from our earlier conversations, I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“Mmm.” The storm inside Kurt's head quiets down, at least a little, and he can feel his own mouth twisting into a smile as well. “I suppose so. How did you ever learn to know me so well?” he asks, only half-joking.

“Years and years of observation,” Blaine says lightly and leans over the center console to finally kiss him.

---

Kurt's hands won't stop shaking.

He's standing in front of the small café he and Rachel used to go to when they had just moved to the city and were still trying to find their place, both literally and figuratively. The café looks the same, and it's almost a bit surprising to see that it's still in business – then again, it did have good coffee and affordable pastries and a good location (thankfully within Kurt's radius, because as understanding as the FBI has been, explaining this meeting might've been a bit too daunting). Kurt hasn't been here in over nine years, too busy avoiding anything that could remind him of what he once had, but just seeing the familiar tables and chairs through the large windows is enough to make him feel like the excited and terrified kid he was the last time he drank coffee in this particular café.

Except he's not that boy anymore, and being here again begs the question if he has even found his place by now – or if he's still just desperately looking for it, the same way he was all those years ago when things were simpler and old cafés didn't remind him of failed friendships and missed opportunities.

He has no idea what the answer to that question is.

He can see Rachel from where he's standing, can see her sipping from her drink and leafing through a magazine, or perhaps even a new script, it's hard to tell. She looks almost the same as she did the last time Kurt properly saw her as herself and not as Maria from West Side Story. Her hair is maybe a little shorter, her posture a bit more confident, and she looks... more grown-up, adult, in some strange, melancholic way. Kurt is clearly not the only one who has had to give up on something to get where he is right now.

Rachel stops flipping through the magazine and looks up all of a sudden, as if she's aware of someone watching her, and her eyes immediately meet Kurt's through the shop window. She freezes in surprise, her eyes widening and the hand that's holding her cup halting mid-movement.

Well then. Kurt can't exactly turn away anymore.

He forces himself to give a small smile, lifting his hand in a wave and hoping that Rachel can't see the tremors still running through his fingers. He tries to think about Blaine, tries to get his heart to calm down by remembering the encouraging smile on Blaine's face when he left the office less than fifteen minutes ago, tries to remind himself that no matter what happens now, at least he still has Blaine. It helps, a little, but he's still nervous.

Inside the café Rachel blinks and then waves back shyly. She pushes the magazine away and gestures for Kurt to join her, pointing at the empty chair on the other side of her table, and Kurt nods, lowering his own hand and surreptitiously taking a deep breath. Rachel doesn't look angry, at least not yet – so far so good.

Kurt steps inside the coffee shop and weaves his way through the other customers, trying to walk in a pace that doesn't look too fast or too slow, trying to school his facial expression into something neutral so that he's ready for whatever Rachel's going to say. He reaches her table far too soon and stops next to it, lifting his eyes from the floor and meeting Rachel's gaze up close.

She does look older. Not old, just... older.

“Kurt,” Rachel breathes out, staring at him.

“Hi,” Kurt greets awkwardly, trying not to shuffle his feet. He never thought his con-man training would become useful in a situation like this.

“You...” Rachel keeps staring at him, as if she's waiting for him to disappear into thin air all of a sudden. “You look... different.”

Kurt points at the empty chair and sits down after Rachel nods. “Good different or bad different?” he asks, keeping his voice careful.

Rachel blinks again and then arranges her hands in her lap, the movement almost guarded or wary in some way. “I don't know. It's difficult to say. But...”

She trails off, lowering her gaze. Kurt shifts on his chair, surprised and worried by the sudden un-Rachel-like silence, and ducks his head to see her face.

“Rachel?” he prompts quietly.

Rachel sniffs, her fingers clasped tightly in the fabric of her skirt. “I– I'm so sorry, Kurt,” she gasps out all of a sudden, and now Kurt can see the tears pooling in her eyes, one of them already breaking free and falling down her cheek. “I'm so sorry,” she repeats, lifting her head as her shoulders start to shake. “For all the things I said back then and how I didn't even come to see you in prison even though Santana told me that you'd been caught, and for– for giving up on you too easily and–”

“Rachel...” Kurt starts worriedly, reaching out for her hand over the table.

“I don't know how you could ever forgive me but I'm so, so sorry,” Rachel continues, her voice getting louder and more desperate. A few people from the nearest tables are starting to stare at them, even if their table is partly shielded by a few potted plants, and Kurt tries to hush her in vain. “I know we were both going through a lot back then, but that doesn't excuse the fact that I just gave up on you like that, right when you needed me the most and I–”

“Rachel,” Kurt interrupts her firmly, finally reaching her hand. The touch seems to shock her into silence since she stops talking and looks up at him, her eyes wide and tearful. “I should... I should apologize as well,” Kurt admits, his voice softer. “You're not the only one who said horrible things the last time we saw each other, and I... I was too far gone already. There's nothing you could've done to help me or stop me.” He gives a rueful smile. “And it's not like I couldn't have reached out for you earlier as well, but I was still going through a lot and didn't know if you'd even want to see me or if–”

“Of course I want to see you,” Rachel whispers earnestly, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “I always want to see you. You're my best friend,” she confesses, holding on to Kurt's hand.

Kurt swallows roughly. There it is. There's the sentence he's been longing to hear for almost a decade now, the one hope he has tried to shut out every time Santana has brought Rachel up or he has seen Rachel's name in the papers. It has been too much, too enormous – good things like this simply don't happen to con-men and to Kurt Hummel, not after he has fucked everything up and especially not if he desperately hopes for them.

“You're my best friend too, Rach,” he chokes out, needing to say it out loud as well, “and you have no idea how much I've missed you.”

Rachels mouth trembles, and then she's launching herself at Kurt, almost tipping over the small table between them as she wraps her thin arms around Kurt and squeezes him tightly, crying against his shoulder. “I've missed you too,” she sobs. “I've missed you so much, Kurt, and I'm so sorry, so sorry for everything–”

“It's okay,” Kurt promises, hugging her back as tightly as he can. The only person he has hugged recently is Blaine, and this is different in so many ways – Rachel's hugs were always tighter, full of the almost surprising strength she has in her arms, and not quite as soothing and healing as Blaine's hugs – but still just as important. “I'm sorry too,” Kurt continues, stroking her back, “and I forgive you. We both messed up a lot of things when we were young.”

“Are you implying that we're old?” Rachel mumbles against his shoulder. “Because that's not true and you know it.”

Kurt lets out a choked-off laugh, squeezing Rachel's back. “We're never getting old, Rachel Barbra Berry.”

Rachel laughs as well, leaning back and sitting down again. “Well, we've probably caused a big enough scene for today already,” she says lightly, brushing her hair from her face.

“It's our duty to entertain the crowd,” Kurt answers in a mock-serious voice, “even if said crowd is just the clientele of a random café.”

Rachel smiles back at him before her expression turns serious again. She smoothes her hands over her skirt, a nervous tell Kurt can still recognize, and tilts her head as if she's studying Kurt. “I... I feel like there's so much I don't know about you anymore, Kurt,” she says after a moment. “You said your life is different now, but I don't really know what you meant by it.”

“Well,” Kurt starts, reaching down to lift the leg of his pants, “I guess the biggest change is that I'm not a criminal anymore. Not an active one, at least.”

Rachel looks down, her eyes widening when she sees the tracking anklet. “What's that?”

“A tracker,” Kurt explains, hiding it under his pants again. “I'm working for the FBI these days, as a part of their work-release program. I help them solve crimes and they gave me a three-mile radius.”

Rachel keeps staring at him. “You gave up on the con-man career? For good?” she clarifies.

Kurt nods.

“That's... That's amazing, Kurt!” Rachel says, her lips turning into a genuine smile. “Gosh, I'm so happy for you. I thought you were still... Well.” She frowns.

“A lot can change in nine years,” Kurt comments awkwardly.

Rachel looks at him, her smile softening. “It really can. But it seems like those changes have been for the better, right?”

Kurt glances down at the tracking anklet, and he can feel his own mouth curving into a smile. His life is not ideal, not by far, but it's still good, better in so many ways than it was all those years ago. He looks back up, and while Rachel still looks nervous and agitated, her shoulders have started to relax as well, and as Kurt watches her she slowly extends her hand over the table, offering it to Kurt with her palm up.

It's an offer for a new start.

“I'm getting there,” Kurt answers and takes Rachel's hand. “And I also have a boyfriend these days,” he cant help but blurt out, just to see the way Rachels eyebrows shoot up in an all-familiar way.

“Kurt Hummel, you sly dog!” Rachel gasps. She leans closer and pats the table with her hand, as if this is just another meeting between them and nothing has changed. “Tell me everything about him right at this second. I need to know if hes good enough for you.”

Kurt snorts. He has definitely missed this.