I recently got into Blindspot and holy hell, I love Reade and Zapata.

"Don't make Tasha be your best man." She says it. Finally, she says it. Quiet, but sure. They keep repeating the same mistakes and Tasha. Tasha is her best friend. She can't let her best friend go on hurting.

"What?" Reade looks over from his place in the worn, hospital chair next to Patterson's bed.

She sighs, mustering up the courage to say it again. "Please don't make Tasha be your best man." She says it slowly, calculating, as as if each word takes a while to process.

"What? Patterson?" Reade turns so that he can face her more directly. "Make her? What?"

It's unlike him to ramble, but she guesses she caught him at a bad time. Almost the middle of the night (the team pulled badges to stay past visiting hours, much to the hospital's dismay), while he was engrossed in a football game. But, if she did say so herself, she always felt Tasha left him a little nervous to begin with.

Finally, he goes silent. Brows furrowed, eyes questioning. Patterson licks her lips. "She's gonna do it. She's gonna say yes." Reade nods. "But it's because she feels like she has to, that it's the right thing to do. She doesn't want to."

"She's my best friend," Reade defends.

"I know." She shrugs.

"Then why...?"

"I can't tell you more. She's going to be mad enough that I said anything to you. It's not my place to tell you." Patterson twiddles her thumbs, picking at a stubborn cuticle.

"She's told you this?" Reade asks, voice soft.

"Not in so many words."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because she hasn't been pretending with me."

She feels for him, seeing his stunned face slowly transform into one of sadness. So she doesn't stop him when he gives a hasty goodbye with a tender hug, careful of her injuries. She just hopes he leaves her to go see the right person.

The knock on her door slams her back into reality. She's been stuck in her head ever since she left Patterson, trying to make her decision concrete. Trying to understand how complicated her relationship with Reade has become. Trying to force her feelings away. The knock on the door is, altogether, unwelcome.

She ignores it, hoping the person has the wrong address or that they'll think she's not home. Of course, when has luck ever been on her side?

"Tasha, open the door." She shivers at the sound of his voice. "I know you're in there."

For a second, she doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't blink. "Zapata!" She jumps at the sound of her last name. The urgency in his tone.

Sighing, Tasha stands. She walks robotically toward the door. She unlatches the top and twists the bottom. "How'd you know I wasn't asleep?"

He shrugs nervously. "Saw your light on." She only nods. "You going to let me in?" She opens the door further, letting him slip inside.

As they walk in, the day weighing on them, Tasha asks if he wants a beer. "Sure," he says with a smile. He follows her to her kitchen, taking a seat on a bar stool. She slides over a cold one, popping hers open simultaneously. "I am so over this day," she groans.

He chuckles darkly. "Me too."

"Are we ever going to catch a break?"

He raises his eyebrows. "When has that ever happened?"

She laughs easily. "True." And it's in that moment, that moment where he can turn her frown upside down, that she decides. She knows what she's going to do. "I, uh, I have something for you." She turns around quickly, finding her bag and rifling through it. Pulling out the box of cigars, she holds it out to him. "A present." She takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile. "From your best man."

In response, Reade is quiet. He looks from the box to her and back again more times than he can count. Patterson's words refuse to leave his head. What did she mean?

"A thank you would be nice…" she says, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Thank you. You didn't have to do this."

"Of course I did." She shrugs easily. "Gotta keep my place above Weller."

He laughs at the joke, but it's strained.

"Is everything alright?" Tasha asks.

He looks down. "No, actually it's not."

Her stomach turns at the seriousness of his words. "What's wrong? What can I do? Are you okay?"

Reade looks up quickly, moved by her concern. "No, no, I'm fine." He reaches out to place his hands over her shaking ones. "It's just, Patterson said something to me," he pauses as he sees her posture grow tense, "about you not wanting to be my best man."

Tasha shakes her head, playing it off. "What? I do, of course I do-"

"-I'm not an idiot. It's written all over your face. I should've realized it sooner."

"Reade, I-"

"-Is it Meg? Did something happen between you guys? I thought you liked her-"

"-I do like her!"

"Then what?"

"I'm fine. I was just taken off guard."

"You aren't taken off guard now," he says. "Tasha, why are you pretending with me?"

She takes a wavering breath. That broken puppy look is going to be the death of her. "I'm not pretending," she says, trying to mask the lie.

"Yes, you are." He pulls his hands from hers and stands up. "You're doing it right now!"

"Reade-"

"You're my best friend, Tasha!" He pauses, still pacing. "I thought I was your best friend, too." His broken words echo in the chambers of her heart, and she can't help but reassure him.

Stepping toward him, she grabs his hands, stopping his movements. Looking into his eyes, she says, "You are my best friend. Always."

"Then why can't you tell me what's bothering you?" It's not accusing, but curious, hurt.

She sniffles, looking at the ground. "Because it'll hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"This, this not knowing, is hurting me. I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me."

"I know I can come to you!" she screams, pulling away from him, facing the bright, blurry lights outside her window. She takes a breath and lowers her voice. "Just not with this."

"Why?" He knows he's pushing his luck, but he can't leave it alone. There's a nagging feeling in his stomach that this is too important to ignore.

"You'd never forgive me," she whispers.

"Of course I would." He places a gentle hand on her back. "We've gotten through the bad stuff before. We can do it again."

She shakes him off. "Not this time."

"What? What is so awful that you can't tell me?" His voice is beginning to raise, but he doesn't care. "I can't think of anything-"

"-I like you, okay!" She whips around, her voice loud, yet wavering. He's speechless. "I like you a lot. And it hurts to see you with Meg." She rapidly shakes her head, though he can still see a few tears shimmering near her eyes. "And I know I had my chance. I know that. So I don't need a lecture. Just go." She points to the door. "You happy now?" She doesn't wait for a response, pushing him out of her apartment and slamming the door in his face. She doesn't wait to see if he'll fight her or say anything else. She doesn't wait for the shock to pass. Instead, she just walks to her room, throws herself on her bed, and cries. This is not how she wanted things to play out.

He stands on the other side of the door, still processing the information, for a good five minutes. It's a lot to take in. But when he goes to talk to her, he finds the door locked and no amount of knocking gets her to open it. Finally, he gives up. He wanders the streets aimlessly. He considers walking into a bar, but he can't bring himself to do it. So many of them are tainted with memories of her. He ignores the buzzing in his pocket. He can't deal with anyone right now, especially Meg. Before he realizes what's happened, he finds himself flashing his badge at the hospital's staff.

Of course Patterson is asleep when he gets there. He shakes his head at his stupidity. She's had a long day. She doesn't need his baggage, as well.

"Staring isn't polite," she says, groggy with sleep. He startles slightly and she chuckles. "You're thinking too loudly. Woke me up."

He tries to laugh, but nothing comes out. After a few minutes of silence, Patterson says, "She told you, didn't she?"

He sighs, nodding. "Not willingly."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened." He runs his hand over his head.

"What do you mean?" Her voice becomes menacing. "You didn't just leave, did you?"

"No, of course not!" He shakes his head. "When she finally told me, well yelled it at me, she forced me out. Wouldn't let me back in."

Patterson rolls her eyes, albeit lovingly. "Tasha."

"Yeah, Tasha." He takes a seat on the chair by Patterson's bed.

"I love her, but she is a piece of work."

He chuckles. "Aren't we all?"

"True," Patterson concedes. "What would you have said?" she asks. "If you had been given the chance?"

He pauses, thinking. "I didn't really have a plan. I just wanted to see her. I wanted her to be okay."

"So you don't love her?"

"I just think that I should talk to her about it before I talk to anyone else."

Patterson nods. "I like that." She then pats his arm. "Don't give up."

"I miss my best friend," he confides.

"I get it, but you said it yourself: she's your best friend. You know her better than anyone. She'll come around. You know that."

"But-"

"-No buts. Go make her. She'll talk to you."

He looks at his watch. Five AM. How has this gone on the entire night? He should be tired, but all he feels is a burning energy eating him from the inside out. She still won't answer his knocks or calls. After what feels like an eternity, he decides to use his last resort. He bends down and pulls her doormat away, finding a little groove in the floorboards. He pulls out the key hiding there. Slowly, he turns the lock and enters her apartment.

She doesn't say anything, so he walks farther, until he notices she isn't in the living room. He explores deeper into her apartment, feeling like an intruder in a place he knows far too well. When he reaches her bedroom, he peers into the open door. She's sprawled on top of the comforter, hair clinging to her tear-stained face. Still, she looks peaceful. He doesn't want to wake her. He doesn't want to leave either. He's drawn to her and can't seem to stop his eyes from gravitating toward her balled figure.

He must have stayed that way for twenty minutes before she begins to stir. Except, she doesn't wake. Her movements are erratic and tense, her face scrunches up in pain. "Zapata?" he asks, her last name slipping from his mouth. If he wasn't so worried about her, he would think the slip-up was because he's only seen that face on-the-job. "Tasha!" he says louder. She is still lost to her nightmare. He comes closer, wrapping her in his arms, trying to soothe her movements. His touch is what finally startles her awake.

She doesn't become tense in his arms or threaten him, like he expects. She knows immediately that it is him. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to talk."

"And it couldn't have waited until morning?"

"No, it couldn't have." She starts to pull back; however, he refuses to loosen his grip.

"Let go of me."

And it's in this moment, when her words are shaky and unsure, and he feels her pain radiating from within, and her quiet tears are dripping onto his strong arms, that he knows. He knows he was right all along.

He knows that he has always loved her.

That the kiss was not a fluke.

That he tried to move on after she rejected him.

That he did find happiness. Just not the happiness he thought he could have with her.

He knows he was right to come here.

"I won't."

"Why not?" she bites.

"Because I love you, too." She stills, and he continues. "Dammit, Tasha, I love you. I have loved you for a long time. But I always thought you weren't interested."

She turns carefully in his arms, meeting his eyes. Her dark eyes wide, she asks, "You love me?"

"Yeah," he says, shaking his head with a smile. "You infuriate me sometimes, but I love you anyway."

She reaches her arm out to hit him with a pillow. He dodges most of it, the tip hitting his cheek. It's all in jest, though.

They stay like that. For a few minutes, hours, they don't know. Until finally, Tasha asks, "So what happens now?"

"Now? Now we start being honest with each other." Zapata nods. "And later, I think I'll take you out on a date. If you'll agree to it?"

She chuckles, a tear escaping her eye. "But-"

"-No buts. We are doing this. Together. I would kiss you to prove it, but I won't be a cheater. And I won't make you feel guilty for it either."

She nods. "I didn't want to ruin things for you."

"You didn't. I should've told you how I really felt, too. Back then."

"And Meg?"

"I'll talk to her today. It wasn't fair of me to try to love her as much as I loved you when I was still hung up on you."

"You do love her."

"I do. But I don't think I'm in love with her. And it was never the same as I felt with you. I need to be honest with her, too."

"We all make mistakes," Tasha says, trying to stop his inner loathing. She can see the pain written on his face.

"Yeah, I guess so. I just don't want to hurt her."

"Me either."

He sighs. He knows she will get hurt. Hopefully less than if he had waited longer. "Thanks for telling me the truth."

She chuckles. "Not like you would've let me keep quiet."

He smiles. "True." Then, pulling her into a tight hug, he says, full of heart-wrenching honesty, "I love you."

She nuzzles into his neck and finally says the words he knows to be true. "I love you, too."

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