IN THE FINAL week of January, Kurt surprised Lindy with a proposal that was notably less major than the one he'd given at the beginning of the month.

Kurt asked Lindy to attend his recording session with Nirvana in northern Seattle, deeming it the perfect opportunity to spend time with her before he'd have to head off to Europe to embark on another round of touring. 

Lindy had balked when he'd asked, but once Kurt had made it clear that Courtney would be far away overseas with her own band, Hole, she felt far more willing to join him in the studio.

It turned out that Kurt had missed the first two sessions of recording, as she learned over a phone call from Krist. With Courtney gone, Krist must have anticipated that Kurt would be spending as much of his time with Lindy as possible. But when Krist had called in search of his friend and bandmate, Lindy had no idea where he was.

The thought of what he was most likely doing in secret nauseated Lindy to her core, but she pushed the worry out of mind. Trae had been right in many ways. She could love Kurt all she wanted, but she would never be able to control him. Lindy had come to terms with the fact that unless she threw Kurt into a padded room, she wouldn't be able to wrest his heroin away from him.

Finally, a day arrived that Kurt found suitable to go in to record with his waiting fellow band members. He picked Lindy up in his own car, wearing dark sunglasses and looking ragged. He'd attempted to smile at her when she opened the door, but it did nothing for his disheveled appearance.

"Where have you been?" Lindy asked, dumbfounded as she climbed in the passenger seat.

"What do you mean?"

"Krist called the other day wondering why you ditched him and Dave at the studio. He was pissed."

"I was busy," Kurt excused. He said those three words with finality, closing the subject before it could be delved into any further. There was no hint of rudeness in his voice though; in fact, he sounded scared.

Lindy didn't press her luck. Instead, she looked out the window, allowing Kurt to dictate control over the radio while she let her mind wander. Somewhere in between the minutes passing during their drive, Kurt reached out and touched Lindy's hand. His skin was icy cold.

When they arrived at the recording studio, Lindy grew nervous, feeling as if she were about to break the law. She clutched her jacket that she held over her arm tighter.

"This has got to look so fucking weird," she said uncertainly as Kurt began to walk in, remaining tightly by her side.

"Why? You know them already. Krist is basically family and Dave is oblivious. He doesn't care."

"Yeah but that doesn't change the fact that I'm your mistress."

Kurt yanked off his sunglasses, narrowing his eyes at Lindy in great offense over her remark. Through his tiredness he scowled, trying to place meaning behind his upset.

"You're not my mistress. That's far from what you are."

"To them, I'm your mistress," Lindy said candidly, walking inside as Kurt held the wide door open for her. The studio smelled of soap and freshly scrubbed carpets, the air inside comparably more warm than the cold weather.

Krist was the first person that came into view — naturally he would be, with his towering height. Lindy dropped her jacket and grinned, unable to not charge Krist with an almighty hug.

"Kristy!" she cried, laughing when Krist swung her around and lifted her feet off the ground.

"My, my, my, look whose here! If I had known you were coming, I would have brought Shelli."

"Tell her to come!" Lindy beseeched. Seeing Shelli would only improve her mood. She owed her old friend a good catching up.

"I would if she wasn't working. She would have loved to see you."

"Hey Lindy," Dave said kindly from behind Krist. He reached his hand out to politely shake her hand, but Lindy went ahead and hugged him, feeling it was appropriate considering the greeting she'd given Krist.

"Nice to see you again," she smiled, trying not to snort with laughter when she recalled Kurt throwing a chair out of a window all because of Dave's crush on her. Kurt had not reacted to the hug though, and if he had, it was only by hanging his head.

No one paid mind to him as he silently made a beeline for the recording room. The crew behind the glass wall didn't say much, avoiding any question of who Lindy was and why she was there. She was grateful for this, for she didn't have any ready excuses. They all seemed to accept that it was best not to ask questions. 

A kind sound technician offered Lindy a pair of headphones that enabled her to listen in on what was going on behind the glass. She accepted them and put them on over her head, meeting Kurt's gaze with an enthusiastic smile. He smiled half-heartedly back, the look on his face evident that he'd rather be snuggled up to Lindy in bed than making music.

He was completely drained of energy and the morning had barely started.

Much of what was recorded was still newly crafted, formulated in its early beginnings without lyrics or proper musical sequences. At one point, Kurt traded spots with Dave and went on the drums. It was announced over the sound mic that they'd be trying out some of the songs Dave had in fact written himself.

They were beautiful, and Lindy took the opportunity to compliment Dave through her headset after they had finished a second song. From behind the drums, Kurt watched the exchange with innocent eyes. He showed no signs of jealousy, but the somber way he stared forward made Lindy feel awful for him.

After a few hours passed, Kurt exited the room to grab a water bottle and sat down next to Lindy. She sat patiently next to him, silent as he drained the contents of his water bottle. Lindy reached out and brushed a strand of his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"What is it?" Kurt asked.

"Cheer up," Lindy said, managing a smile.

He attempted to mirror her expression, but failed. Having him so close gave Lindy the chance to truly analyze the faint purple beneath his eyes and the ill haze of his complexion. She found herself immediately wishing that he was not leaving the country in such a state.

Kurt's sullen mood changed when a black kitten ventured into the studio, something that wasn't much of a surprise considering how chilly it was outside. He picked it up and happily stroked its tiny head, delighted to have found it himself.

"He's so cute," Lindy said, scratching behind the kitten's ears. It purred in response, grateful for the attention.

"I want to keep him," Kurt declared.

"I wish I could keep him myself, but Freddie probably wouldn't take too well to a stranger," Lindy confessed, equally hopeful to give the tiny animal a home.

Kurt sat him down in Lindy's lap, instructing her not to let him go. Lindy didn't know if this would be possible as the kitten was quite skittish, but she promised him anyways that she'd do her best. The kitten had totally altered Kurt's attitude and she didn't want to upset him.

Back inside the recording room, Kurt spoke into the mic, addressing the sound tech.

"I'm trying something new. I might wing it a bit."

This was not in the least bit burdensome. Kurt had been practically winging every song he'd sang that day. The sound tech flashed a thumbs up, an indication that Kurt could began whenever he pleased.

He cleared his throat and began playing, eventually closing his eyes and moving his lips, framed by the whiskers of his beard, closer to the mic.

I will never bother you
I will never promise to
I will never follow you
I will never bother you
Never say a word again
I will crawl away for good

The introduction of this new song was marked by a creeping, taunting build. It sound like a warning or a firm declaration, but of what Lindy did not know yet. She listened intently, pressing her headset a little closer to her ears.

I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it would come to this
Things have never been so swell
And I have never failed to fail

The more that Lindy listened, the steadier her dread grew. She paid unhinged attention to Kurt's lyrics, her teeth hooking on to her bottom lip when she started to let her curiosity run wild.

If she wasn't mistaken, the song was impressing upon her a personal stab at she and Kurt's relationship. Worried, she sank lower in her chair and looked down at the sound board. Maybe that was why Kurt had been acting so sad.

The song's chorus was haunting, characterized by Kurt's repeated howl of "pain" over and over into the mic. It was followed by a series of bitter "you know you're right's," an affirmation of Kurt's willing surrender.

If it weren't for her terror over the song potentially having been made with her in mind, Lindy would have truly enjoyed it. It may have even been her favorite song of Kurt's to date.

At some point along the session, Kurt's friendly black kitten had escaped from Lindy's lap and sauntered either about the studio or back outside. Lindy felt a sharp pinch of regret over having let him go, but she now had anxiety on her mind to tend to.

Hours passed and finally, Kurt and the rest of Nirvana lumbered out of the studio, each of them looking far past exhaustion. They'd been recording all day. Kurt was disappointed over the loss of his kitten, but accepted that his little friend had run away. It was like he'd been expecting the loss.

The owner of the studio, who had arrived a few hours prior, was crowing that he wanted to take them all to dinner. Kurt agreed, but languidly asked if he could smoke a cigarette first. Lindy followed him outside.

"I liked that song," she told him casually, though she felt sick inside.

"Which one?" Kurt asked. He was clicking the lighter, trying to spark a flame in the light wind.

"The 'you know you're right' song."

"Oh. Thanks. I've had it lying around but I tweaked it a little."

Lindy paused, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth in order to stop herself from blurting out her inner fears.

"Who . . . who is it about?" she asked.

Kurt tensed, flicking ashes to the ground and keeping his blue eyes locked straight ahead. Lindy bit her lip again, this time harder and with more strain.

"I thought you would have guessed it right away," Kurt explained, his voice rigid.

"Should I have?" Lindy replied, only feeling more and more alarmed by Kurt's vagueness.

"Maybe. It's only because things are falling apart between me and her faster than I thought they would."

"You and . . . her?"

"Her," Kurt confirmed.

Lindy would have exhaled with relief knowing that the mystery identity that had inspired Kurt's song was none other than Courtney, but Kurt had only peaked more of her interest as to what the song was really about.

"I asked for a divorce," Kurt suddenly announced. There was no triumph behind this disclosure.

"And?" Lindy pressed anxiously, now fearing that the worst had only begun.

"She said no. That she wouldn't sign any papers. And she asked me how I ever expected to get any custody of Frances when I'm as fucked up as I am," Kurt said thickly, lifting his eyes to the sky as if pleading for it to give him strength.

Lindy guiltily put an arm around Kurt, desperate as usual to improve his mood through her physical touch. Whenever she held him close, he was instantly soothed.

"You don't have to worry about this right now," Lindy said softly. "Don't stress over a divorce if she's going to threaten you."

"I want one though," Kurt emphasized, sounding miserable. "I need to get away. But Frances . . ."

His lingered on his daughter's name before shuddering, shouldering himself onto Lindy's side as she wrapped both arms around him to keep him standing.

She found herself remembering what she had thought when she'd first seen Kurt's face light up when talking about Frances — he was an ideal father solely in the way that he showed love to his only child.

Lindy decided that no matter what, she could not and she would not come between that.