After a lengthy debate about whether or not it would be safe to leave Santana, Carson, Brittany alone and cuffed to the railing, punctuated by insults and pleas for freedom from the prisoners, Blaine set up his Penfield mood transmitter with a narrow wave on just the three and sent them into catalepsy. He also hastily retrieved a spare laser from his tool bag and shoved it into his pocket before following Kurt to the elevator.

“Come on,” Kurt said, pulling Blaine into the elevator and jabbing at the button for the roof.

Blaine held onto Kurt's wrist as the door closed them in, staring at the rusty red stain on his sleeve. “What happened to you?”

“We'll talk on the roof,” Kurt insisted, and they rode the elevator in silence.

As soon as the doors opened, Blaine said, “Okay, you got me up on the roof. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Quiet,” hissed Kurt, leaving Blaine by the elevator doors while he traversed the nearly empty rooftop at a frenzied pace, examining each corner as if for potential eavesdroppers. “Where's your car?” he asked Blaine brusquely when he returned.

“I parked a few buildings down. I didn't want to alert them to my presence.”

“Yeah, me too. I guess that junker must belong to Brittany,” Kurt gestured toward the lone car on the roof. “I needed to make sure no one could hear us.”

“Why the secrecy?” Blaine said sharply. When Kurt didn't respond he raised his voice and said, “I need answers. Why did you help me?”

“How about some gratitude,” Kurt huffed. “I just saved your life.”

“At what cost?” Blaine asked, searching his eyes. Kurt looked offended, but Blaine just laughed. “Oh please. Do you really expect me to trust you?”

“I know you feel like I betrayed you,” Kurt said calmly. “But I had to say those things.” He pushed his blood-stained sleeve up his arm to reveal a blood-soaked bandage. “Sue had me fitted with a tracking device with a GPS and a bug in it.” He tugged at the surgical tape and revealed the gaping, torn skin beneath. “I had to rip it out so I could come here without her knowing.”

Blaine cringed in sympathy in spite of himself. “That looks painful.”

“Hurts like hell,” Kurt admitted, fastening the bandage back in place and rolling down his sleeve. “But I did what I had to do. I couldn't very well have Sue Sylvester listening to this conversation.”

Blaine's stomach flipped painfully and his whole world tilted on its axis. “This conversation. So, you mean, our last encounter – ”

“Was bugged, yes.” Kurt said.

“So you're saying that Sue Sylvester was listening to our entire encounter?” Blaine's face twisted with fear and disgust.

“Oh don't get all bashful on me, now,” Kurt said dismissively. “I hardly think she paid close attention to our more recreational activities. She was more interested in what I said to you afterwards. In the hovercar. She wanted to make sure I was convincing.”

“So now you expect me to believe that you were lying about all of that – all of the bounty hunters you've slept with to ruin them at their jobs?” Blaine shook his head. “You are unbelievable, Kurt. Truly. I appreciate your help with the andys.” Blaine sighed and continued, his voice saturated with defeat. “Now why don't you head on back to Seattle? That way I can move on with my life and never have to see you again.”

“I can't do that,” Kurt said softly.

“Why not?”

“Because, I wasn't lying when I said I cared about you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said slowly. “I don't believe you. I don't trust you anymore and I don't think I ever will. So really, you should leave.” He turned his back on Kurt and pressed the button for the elevator. The doors slid open instantly, but Blaine froze at Kurt's next words.

“But I might be the only one you can trust.”

The elevator doors slid closed again in front of Blaine's face and he whipped around to face Kurt. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you're placing your trust in the wrong people,” Kurt said insistently.

“Who are you talking about?” Blaine demanded. “What do you know?”

“Jake Puckerman,” Kurt said. “Your precious police chief boss. He's working with Sue Sylvester, behind the scenes.”

“Impossible,” Blaine said. “I've known Jake for years. He would never do something like that.”

“Are you really so sure?” Kurt said, one eyebrow raised. “How exactly do you think that the androids you hunted were a step ahead of you every step of the way? Who else knew where you were going to be each time besides Jake Puckerman? And why exactly do you think that Jake Puckerman sent you to the Sylvester-Hummel Association first to do that testing? He didn't even give you the information sheets on the andys you were supposed to retire before that, did he? And why do you think he was so reluctant for you to talk to Shannon Beiste?”

Blaine stared at Kurt, silently shuffling through his memories of all of his encounters with his boss over the past few days, feeling betrayed by his own memories.

“I am sorry about those things I had to say to you the last time we spoke,” Kurt said earnestly. “I had no choice. I had to make sure she would believe that I was following the company's plan.”

“I don't – I don't know…”

Blaine tried to turn away, but Kurt grabbed both of his biceps and looked into his eyes pleadingly. “Don't worry about Puckerman. I have a plan of my own. A plan that I think is good for both of us.”

“Why didn't you tell me about your plan before?”

“I could hardly talk about it with Sue listening to our conversation,” Kurt said.

“You could have written it on a damned piece of paper or something,” Blaine grumbled.

“And risk you saying something about it out loud? Never.”

Kurt finally released his grip on Blaine's arms and Blaine stepped back, putting more distance between them. “So now I'm just supposed to believe you? I don't think I ever get a straight story out of you, Kurt. I have no idea what to believe.”

“You humans and your damned emotions,” Kurt sighed dramatically. “Can you just listen to reason and logic for a minute here? Even if you don't believe me that I could possibly feel anything for you, just think about my own self-interest, here. I want to move to Mars, have a shot at singing on Broadway in New New York. I want to get away from the Association. But I can't do that without a human to take me there. And we have the perfect opportunity.”

“Even if I did believe you, what about my job?” Blaine asked.

“Oh please, we both know you're done killing androids. Plus, I was serious about Puckerman. You can't tell me you're willing to keep working for a guy who has no problem setting you up to be killed.”

“But why would he do that?”

“Cash. The association pays him – and several other police officials across the country – handsomely for their help putting you bounty hunters out of commission one by one,” Kurt said knowingly. “He is not going to want the information I have on him getting out to his superiors – or to the public. So I'm sure he'll be cooperative and send some of that cash your way – as well as any paperwork you and I may need to make our relocation to Mars perfectly legal.”

“Why would I want to go to Mars with you?” Blaine asked. “If I wanted to go, I would go with my wife. I'm pretty sure she wants to move there anyway.”

“Because,” Kurt said slowly, stepping close to Blaine and tracing a finger down his chest, “if you go to Mars with me, you get to do this every day.” Kurt cupped Blaine's jaw with both hands and leaned forward, bringing their lips together. Blaine heard a desperate whine escape his own lips and suddenly he was digging his fingers into Kurt's back, pulling him closer as they kissed hungrily.

Forcing himself to release his grip on Kurt and pull away, Blaine panted, “There are too many loose ends. The association will never let you leave. I have my wife. We can't take the goat with us. It will never work.”

“I have a plan,” Kurt said. “I've thought of everything.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

“Blaine,” Kurt said meaningfully, “sometimes you just have to be willing to take that leap.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pants pocket and handed it to Blaine. “Bring this to Jake Puckerman and demand answers. He'll fold. That'll show you I'm right.”

 “I don't think so, Kurt,” Blaine said, holding a hand up over his still tingling lips protectively.

“You don't have to decide right away,” Kurt said. He gestured toward the still folded paper in Blaine's hand. “Read that over. It explains everything. Talk with Puckerman.” He paused a moment, then added, “But you'll need to do something – to keep your options open.”

Blaine looked down at the paper and back at Kurt.  “And what is that, exactly?”

In early morning hours, when Blaine called in his report on the body count, he asked the officer on duty to schedule a meeting for him with Jake Puckerman.  Hours later, when he finally crawled into bed, Tina was still peacefully asleep. She made a tiny noise of protest when the bed moved and turned onto her side, her breathing instantly evening out again into sound slumber.