And their finances were becoming a problem again.

Even at reduced prices, everything was uncomfortably expensive, and they needed at least a little bit left in order to re-join society  once they were safe.  

Because, as Kurt had reminded Blaine at least a dozen times, they were not robbing any convenience stores in Canada.

Blaine swallowed every question he had about the practicalities of what they would do once they were actually in Canada; how were they going to obtain something that at least resembled legal status?  How would they find work?  Where would they live?  When the possibility of getting the car across the border had still existed, Blaine knew that they could at least sell that if they had to, but now they had nothing but each other and a bunch of camping supplies.

But Blaine knew that Kurt didn’t have answers for any of these questions, as much as he might act like he knew everything.  Blaine couldn’t let Kurt carve a path for them while he simply followed; they were partners now, in every sense of the word, and figuring out what to do was as much on his shoulders as it was on Kurt’s.

“Do we really need a tent?” Blaine asked, surveying the prices nervously.  Kurt nodded.

“We’re going to be out there for at least three or four days, Blaine, if it rains and either of us gets sick things could go downhill very fast.  Here, this one looks okay.”

“It says it’s a one-man tent.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to cuddle up extra close then, won’t we?”

Blaine grinned.  “I think you’ve just found a very shiny silver lining to this situation,” he said.  Kurt returned his smile and squeezed his hand.

They bought backpacks and canteens and hiking shoes and food (“beef jerky, Blaine? you seriously expect me to eat beef jerky?” “It’s a good source of protein and it doesn’t take up much room, Kurt.  You can swap it out for organic almonds when we get to Canada, okay?”), and by the time they left the store they had spent the vast majority of their money.

“I could call Cooper,” Blaine suggested, watching Kurt’s hands shake as he counted what was left. “He would wire me some, I’m sure of it.”

Kurt shook his head.  “Not until we’re in Canada.  I don’t...we can’t do anything that will let anyone find us until we’re in Canada.”

They loaded up their backpacks, looking mournfully at all the things they would have to leave behind with the car, and got back on the road, letting the music in the car fill the silence between them..

Neither man noticed the silver Impala that followed them out of the parking lot.

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you awake?”

“I should hope so, Blaine, I am driving.”

Blaine smiled. “Me too. I feel awake.”

“Well, you're not drunk anymore. That could be it,” Kurt said with a quirk of his lips. Blaine laughed.

“No, it's like – I don't think I've ever felt this awake. Like I finally have something to look forward to, and everything's just more...vivid. More real.”

Kurt nodded. “I feel that way too.”

Blaine reached for his hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kurt paused. “What are you going to do when we get to Canada?”

“I..I don't know,” Blaine stammered, caught off guard. “I can still write, I suppose, but I'll have to start from scratch.”

“You've always wanted to act, though,” Kurt said with a frown.

Blaine shrugged. “I can't exactly do anything that will make my face famous, though, Kurt, so there isn't much point–”

“You could do community theater,” Kurt suggested. “No worries about too much exposure there.”

Blaine studied Kurt's profile. “You – you wouldn't think that was stupid?” he asked quietly.

“Of course not,” Kurt said, sounding confused. “Why would I ever think something that makes you happy is stupid?”

Blaine shrugged, looking down at his lap. “I don't know, Dave always said–”

“If you recall, Blaine, you left your wedding ring sitting in about two inches of stale bourbon in a fleabag motel in Kentucky.”

Blaine looked up at Kurt, his face slowly breaking into a grin.

“Oh my god, I really did, didn't I?”

“You really did. So I don't think you need to bother yourself with what Dave says anymore,” Kurt said firmly, an edge of possessiveness in his voice that sent a thrill up Blaine's spine.

“I love you,” Blaine sighed.

Kurt flashed him a soft smile and squeezed his hand. “You'd better.”

Blaine couldn't help but smile back. “Kurt?”

“Hmmm?”

“What do you want to do when we get to Canada?”

Kurt looked thoughtful. “Well, I suppose I'll have to learn the nuances of the Canadian cocktail, but the beauty of bartending is that it's one of the most portable professions in the world.”

Blaine shook his head. “No, I mean...eventually. You – you should go back to design school. You always said you wanted to.”

“Well, I suppose I'll have to see what our options look like when we get there,” Kurt said lightly.

Blaine looked at him nervously.

“We'll figure it out, Blaine. I promise.”

Blaine sighed. “Yeah. It's just – it's a lot to figure out, isn't it? New identities, documentation...”

“Let's just worry about getting there first, all right?” Kurt asked, giving Blaine's hand another squeeze.

He reached for his radio. The local boys had been crawling all over the northern part of the state looking for those two. And here they were, practically gift-wrapped.

“But...the money...”

Kurt sighed.  “Look.  Twenty dollars isn’t going to make or break us.  Nothing fancy, just...this is probably the last time we’ll ever be in the United States.  We...we’ll probably never get to see New York again, or visit our childhood homes, or reconnect with our high school friends.    We’ll never get to take that trip to San Francisco that we always talked about.  This is it, Blaine, and if I’m going to be living off of beef jerky and dried cranberries for the better part of a week before starting a new life as an illegal alien, I at least want one last greasy meal in an American diner before we go.”

Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat, because Kurt was right.  As much as Blaine knew that this was what he wanted, he also knew that it would be painful and lonely and frightening to start all over again.  And the fact that he couldn’t come back, not even to visit...

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.  “That sounds really nice.”

The diner they ended up at was charming and homey, the decor more actual retro kitch than an ironic attempt to emulate it.  Kurt ordered a bacon cheeseburger and Blaine got roast beef with gravy and mashed potatoes, and when the food came they both just sat and stared at it.

“I feel like a death row inmate about to eat his last meal,” Blaine said, trying to summon even the slightest desire to eat his dinner.

“I know what you mean,” Kurt sighed.  “I always wondered how people even have an appetite at all when they eat their last meal.  I don’t think I could eat a bite if I knew I was about to be executed.”

“This is good though, right?” Blaine asked, looking up from his plate to meet Kurt’s eyes.  “I mean...this is what we both want.”

Kurt nodded.  “It is, I just...god, Blaine, a thousand and one things could go wrong.  Aren’t you...aren’t you scared?”

“Of course I am,” Blaine replied, reaching across the table to take Kurt’s hand.  “But I’m with you.  No matter what happens, whether we make it or fail completely, we’re doing it together.  Just knowing that makes me less afraid.”

“But what if...” Kurt bit his lip, and for the first time let Blaine really see the fear behind his eyes. “What if I end up in prison, and I can’t ever see you because you’re in prison too and we’re on separate cell blocks, and-”

“Kurt, stop,” Blaine admonished softly.  “I know.  But thinking like that isn’t going to help us.  We can’t stop fighting until we’re completely out of options.  I don’t think we’d stop fighting even if we were out of options.  But the longer we put it off the harder it’s going to be, so maybe we should just get on with it.”

Kurt nodded in agreement.  “Yeah.  I...I’m really not hungry.  I’m sorry, Blaine, I shouldn’t have made us come here and buy dinner we aren’t going to eat when we can’t even afford-”

“Let’s get it to go,” Blaine said.  Kurt gave him a skeptical look.

“I’m serious.  We’ve still got a couple of hours to go before we, um...leave the car, and at some point our appetites will catch up with us and we’ll wish we had some real food with us.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam confirmed.

“All right. Keep on them and wait for backup. We do not want you approaching them on your own. These men are very, very dangerous.”

“Roger that. They're pulling into a restaurant now. CiCi's Diner on West Everwood.”

“So...was this our first date?” Kurt asked, smiling over at Blaine.

Blaine barked out a laugh. “I don't know. Personally, I was counting our little meeting with that truck driver. I thought it was pretty romantic.”

“You and your old-fashioned notions of romance,” Kurt sighed, fluttering his eyelashes as he swung their hands between them.

“When we get to Canada, I want to take you on a real date,” Blaine said seriously, gazing at Kurt.

“Oh, no. If that was your idea of a first date, I don't even want to know what your idea of a real date could be. Arson? Espionage?”

“As long as it's with you, neither one of those options sounds so bad.”

They both laughed, too wrapped up in one another to notice the figure leaning against their car in the dimness of the parking lot.

Until they did.

“Mr. Karofsky-Anderson? Mr. Hummel?” the figure said when they came to an abrupt stop.

Kurt gasped, his gentle grasp on Blaine's hand turning into a death-grip. Blaine just continued to stare, white-faced and frozen.

“This is one-twelve...uh...about those suspects at Cici's diner?”

“Backup is on the way, one-twelve.”

“Yeah. Um. About that. You want to maybe...cancel that call?”

“Cancel it?”

“I wouldn't, Hummel,” the woman said. Her voice was oddly familiar. “I can guarantee that I'm a better shot than you, and having to put a bullet in you after all this would just be depressing.”

“Who are you?” Kurt asked again, but kept his hand resting on the strap of his bag.

“My name is Santana Lopez. We've spoken before. This morning, as a matter of fact. Now, we can have this conversation here, or we can have it at the hotel. Your choice.”

“Hotel?” Blaine managed, blinking.

“Yes, Virginia, hotel. Now I don't want to end up having to chase you boys down again, so my car or yours?”

“We...why should we go with you?” Kurt asked tightly.

Santana shrugged. “Do you really have a better option?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. We were just on our way out of town. So if you aren't going to arrest us–”

Santana huffed an irritated sigh. “Of course I'm not going to arrest you. No one else knows you're here, and I plan on keeping it that way. And those directions you found on google are complete bullshit anyway, so unless you want to end up getting caught by Mounties and Park Rangers, which is pretty much the most humiliating end to this adventure that I can possibly imagine, I highly recommend that you come with me.”

The two men stared at her for a long moment.

“You were a lot nicer on the phone,” Kurt finally said.

Santana shrugged. “Yeah, that happens sometimes. Depends on who's listening in. So. Ready?”

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who still seemed to be in something of a state of shock.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked softly.

Blaine blinked. “I...wh-why are you doing this?” he asked.

Santana's face faltered slightly. “Well, Sparky, that's definitely a story for the hotel,” she said. “But let's just say I'm doing this as much for myself as for you two pretty ponies, okay?”

Kurt nodded. “Okay,” he said, looking at Blaine.

Blaine nodded back. “Okay,” he agreed.