"Kurt!" She bellows through her house, alarm ringing in her voice, as she calls for him again.
He rushes into the room, having abandoned breakfast. He looks halfway between terrified and worried, as he responds to her screams. "What is it? Jane? You okay?"
She rushes up to him, grabbing his shirt in a death grip. "It's over there," she gestures across the room, refusing to look in the direction.
"What's over there?" he asks, reaching for a gun on a holster that's not there.
"It's huge!" she warns. His face curling up into confusion at that. He meanders over to where she'd pointed. She's torn between continuing to hang onto him but ultimately chooses to stay where she's at, his guard having lowered at not being able to visibly see anything harmful.
"It's a spider," he says upon inspection, and a tiny one at that. He lets out a laugh, before looking over at her panic-stricken face. His claiming of what it is not the least bit reassuring to her.
"I know what it is, get rid of it!"
He grabs a tissue, scooping up the thing, careful to squish him but not wanting him to escape. He walks over to her with it, and she cringes, stumbling back onto the bed.
"Get it away from me!"
He teases her, holding the tissue out.
"Kurt, I swear, if that thing touches me," she screeches.
"You'll what?" he challenges her.
"That spider won't be the only thing sleeping alone," she says, this time with a grin.
He shakes his head with a smile, "Just get ready for work."
xxxxxx
"This is Chief Inspector Fischer," Mayfair nods towards the goofy looking man standing next to her. His coke bottle glasses sliding down his nose, his sinister grin barely visible with the large mustache adorning his upper lip, much darker than his actual hair. If he hadn't had such an official title, she'd be hard pressed to imagine he was capable of intimidating anyone, let alone climbing the ranks within the government. "He's going to be conducting an investigation into our team. I expect you all to fully cooperate," she says with lilt to her voice that suggests that she had been forced into this scenario and wasn't anymore pleased with it than the rest of them would be.
Jane nervously looks around at the rest of her team. She can feel the frustration of Kurt vibrating next to her, his fists clenched, and lips pinched shut. The idea of someone coming in and making accusations about his team not going over well. He's fiercely protective over them all, but no one more so than her.
Worry etches her face, as Fischer drones on about what's going to take place. She finds herself wringing her hands at the mention of a lie detector test. A "painless experience," or so he claims. And while that's probably a fair assessment if you're completely innocent, with the secret she's harboring, it's not likely to be all that pleasant for her. Panic overtakes her, and the urge to reach out and grab Kurt's hand in her own, the gentle pulse sure to soothe her nerves. Instead, her arms come to wrap around her torso, creating a shell of armor that she hopes won't be penetrated by the likes of this man who keeps eyeing her, his glasses magnifying his eyes to appear larger than normal, his gaze making her increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing second.
Eventually he dismisses himself, the promise of escorting each one of them individually to their fate tomorrow. The same dread spread across Jane's face makes it way to all the members of the team, the threat of secrets and past discretions being brought to the surface, dredging up a sickening feeling that settles in the pit of their stomachs.
It had been a couple of months since Jane had been all but forced to lie to Kurt and the rest of the team. Her distrust of the man claiming to be named Oscar had been instinctual. And although her memories allowed her to conjure up his face, and he seemed to be a wealth of knowledge when it came to her past, she couldn't help that same gut instinct from screaming at her anytime she met with him. The draw of her past often times so elusive to her that she felt the allure of his promising words, the morsels of information he'd feed to her, and she'd gobble them up like the starved orphan she was.
She knew he was manipulating her, and she'd tried several times to try to shake Kurt off the trail of tattoos. The threat of his safety her number one concern. The more Oscar encouraged her to be distrustful of those she trusted the most, the more she she stubbornly fought to go against what he was saying. But the fact still remained…she was lying. On the nights when she crawled into Kurt's arms, he pulled her closer, and she found herself clinging to him, breathing out his name likes whispers of a prayer, asking for forgiveness before the sin revealed itself.
Often, she'd find herself going back to the moment when Oscar had sworn her to secrecy, casually suggesting (although now it seemed more like a dare) that she not tell anyone about what had occurred that night, especially Kurt. She'd had half a mind to run to his apartment and blurt out everything in full detail to him, come clean immediately. But Oscar's warning had rooted itself in her insecurities, the fear of her betrayal slowly drowning her, and the more she struggled with the decision, the more she felt in over her head, the guilt weighing her down, sinking her more quickly to lie in the bed she'd made for herself.
The office had taken on that of a graveyard, sullen, ghost-like figures waiting for their name to be etched as stone as a traitor. They went about their day the best they could, all of them distracted with the test looming over them. Each one so consumed in their own personal turmoil that the identical stress present in the person next to them went unnoticed.
Jane, having been so distracted by her own thoughts, doesn't even notice the figure hovering over her until a hand comes down on her shoulder, and she jumps, the pen she was using flying behind her.
A snort of laughter reaches her, and she knows exactly who's standing behind her. She manages a shaky smile, as she swivels around to his see his face, the further the revolution of her chair, the more genuine her smile gets - his stubbled grin coming into focus.
"You scared me."
"Sorry, you were concentrating so hard on…" he leans over, examining what it was her pen was so furiously working on. "…your name." Her piece of paper littered with the letters J-A-N-E over and over in various fonts and shades of black, the white peeking through on the paper.
She looks down, a blush blossoming across her face. "I uhh, wanted to look busy in case that new guy came around." Another lie. Her brain had been going off in a million different directions, each scenario of what would happen tomorrow even worse than the next. She hadn't even realized what she'd been doodling until he'd pointed it out. Her inky name staring back at her over and over again, like if it was written enough, it would somehow make it real.
At the mention of Fischer, Kurt's jaw clenches, a groan of exasperation escaping.
"I don't trust that guy," he says rather loudly. She finds herself swinging her around, making sure no one heard him.
"He's looking for someone to blame. Like we're incompetent. Like we have something to hide," he frustrating huffs out. She bites her lip, his words stunning her more than the bite of her teeth.
"That's not entirely true," she whispers out. A slip of the tongue, the truth peeking its way out. Her eyes grow wide at the admission, and before she knows it, he's grabbed her elbow, gently guiding her to somewhere without prying eyes.
"Jane," he starts once he'd made sure they're alone. "If your worried about…us," he hesitantly broaches, the subject of them as a thing having not been quite defined just yet, but rather an exploration of tangled limbs and quiet declarations of secrecy.
The realization suddenly washing over her that there were several things she had to keep from Fischer. Not only was she on the line for her possible treason - or whatever you would consider this alliance with someone who clearly had little trust for the FBI, and a knack for manipulation with the insinuation that she hadn't been all that different from him - but now the added pressure of having to keep her in-work…relationship a secret as well.
"You think he's going to ask about us?" she says with a crack in her voice, panic settling in.
"No, I don't think so," he reaches out, pulling her in, rubbing his hand down her arm, his warmth seeping through her hoodie, before grabbing her hand. His thumb traces the design there, running through the ridges of her knuckles. "As long as we don't give him a reason to, we should be fine."
She mutely nods, transfixed on the path of his hand.
"It's bullshit. He's not going to turn up with anything," he says with such conviction, she almost believes him.
She gives a shy nod, hoping he'll take it as a form of agreement.
"So whose place are we going to tonight, yours?" he swiftly changes the subject, the thought of tomorrow of little more than an annoyance on the way to the vindication of his truth.
"Umm, actually," she stumbles, keeping her head down as to not make eye contact with him. "I'm going out with the girls tonight." The lies are piling up at this point. But goodnight for now is easier than goodbye forever.
She peeks up at him through dark lashes, biting her lip.
"Okay," he shrugs, checking behind him, before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on her temple, his hand still gripping her own.
He's leaning away before she can even realize what's happening, her fingers gripping him tightly, willing him not to leave her yet.
"I…" stopping herself, not knowing quite what she wants to say, how to express what she's feeling.
He waits, stroking the inside of her wrist.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says, the promise of a future lingering in the air between them.
xxxxx
She paces the empty warehouse, her nails taking the beating of her anxiety. Her footsteps echo through the space, making her feel less alone.
"Fancy meeting you here," he says with a sly grin, taking more pleasure in her insistence for a meet up than she'd have liked.
She drops her hand, her face taking on a mask of seriousness, refusing to give him anymore more to go on. There's no mistaking the lingering looks he gives her, the hope he harbors that the spark of recognition of their past is just around the corner. And while she does have vivid memories of the two of them, the feeling attached is not even resembling of nostalgia, so much as watching a movie of a person she doesn't even recognize acting out scenes in her head.
"There giving me a polygraph test tomorrow," she blurts out, not wanting to waste time with small talk, which usually consists of him talking in riddles, desperate for her to understand.
"So…?" he nonchalantly dismisses her concerns.
"So? So you're okay with them finding out about us?" Her patience wearing thin with the lack of concern he seemed to be paying her tonight.
But his attention peeks at her use of words. The sly grin appears again.
"So there's an 'us' now, huh?" He seems to be mulling over the word in his head, tasting it on the roll of his tongue.
She all but rolls her eyes at his picking up on the implication of them as a single unit. She makes a note to not let that slip again. The only connection she wants with him is the one that leads her to answers.
"Just answer my question," she threatens, her voice rising.
"Okay, okay. It's not a big deal. You know how to beat those. You should pass with flying colors or I guess in this case, static, steady black."
"Right. Okay. Yeah," she seems to mutter to herself, turning around, her nails finding their way to her mouth again.
"I am curious, though. Why are they giving you a lie detector test?"
She doesn't immediately answer, not sure how much information she wants to give him. She's sure he could easily find out himself, he seems to know everything. But she doesn't want to be the one offering up the goods.
"They're scared of you," he offers his own explanation. Her eyes narrow at this, not sure where he's going. "They should be," he almost maniacally laughs.
"No…" she tries to argue, but stops herself, her efforts futile against him. "Thanks for the info," she moves to make her exit.
"That's it?" he says, with a step towards her, eyes eager for more.
"Yep, that's it."
xxxxxx
One by one they'd been escorted into the room before her. Reade. Tasha. Patterson. The only two people left were her and Kurt. She'd been doodling so hard on her notepad the pen had cut through the paper, a small tear in an otherwise maze of shapes, almost indiscernible but visible upon closer inspection.
"Ms. Shaw," the funny looking man addresses her, his eyes glancing over her visible tattoos, her skin crawling at the sight of his roaming eyes. Unaccustomed to people referring to her by that last name, she's caught off guard from the start.
She follows closely behind him, glancing back at Kurt as she makes her way down the hallway. He gives a slight nod, a gentle reassurance that everything will be fine.
Settling into the chair, she's instructed to place her hands directly in front of her, and she's wired up. Images of her very first day float back to her. The harsh florescent lights stinging her fresh eyes, the tattoos standing out in the stark white room, a man with little facial expression asking her questions she can't answer - the words, "I don't know" uttered over and over again.
She wishes she could give that answer this time. The difference between the two days not going unnoticed by her, as she glances down at her black shirt, covering most of her tattoos, the color seems to reflect the darkness of her deceit to the world, no longer adorning the white she'd been issued. Her blank slate had been stained black, and there was no way to hide it.
"Okay, let's start with a few base questions. Is your name Taylor Shaw?"
She hesitates, the identity of herself having always been in question. "Yes."
"Do you go by the name Jane?"
That one was easy. "Yes."
"Are you a member of Agent Weller's team?"
"Yes."
"Let's get started then," he says with a sneer.
His questions are mostly standard. "Have you ever brought your work home?" "Have you ever knowingly given information to a criminal that could compromise your team?" She can answer them easily, not even having to regulate her heartbeat, knowing full well that she would never put her team in danger. If anything, she was trying to save them from her mistakes.
"Have you ever spent time with members of the team outside of work?"
"Yes."
Did you go out last night?"
"No."
"Have you ever had a romantic relationship with someone you work with?"
Her heart rate jumps. She knows it does. The one question she was sure wouldn't be asked. Her mind immediately spins into various different ways in which he could've found out, and debates whether it's worth the lie or if it's better to just come clean about what's going on. She couldn't remember if it was something that was merely frowned upon…or forbidden…or the type of inappropriate that would lead to her dismissal or worse, a different lead agent.
"N…No."
I'm screwed, she thinks.
"Do you know what your tattoos mean?"
"No," she says with confidence.
"Do you know who gave you these tattoos."
She takes a deep breath, adjusting in her seat. "No."
The questions continue, until she's finally released. Her body rigid with anxiety, having been continually told herself to relax to get the desired result. She steps outside the door, twisting to rest her head against the cool wall, taking the heat off her perspiring head. With a deep sigh, she pushes off the structure, shakily walking back to her desk.
Kurt looks at her expectantly, seeing her face fade of color, he gets up, but she shakes her head, knowing Fischer is likely to come and get home soon, and the last thing she wants is physical confirmation of the lie he knows she told.
He seems to read her body language, a look of concern crossing his face.
His test seems to take far longer than anyone else's. She reasons it's probably because he's their leader, right? But she can't help but feel that he's in there describing all her indiscretions to him.
They're scared of you. The words keep ringing in her head. Was it true? Were they scared of her?
She takes a deep breath, pushing the coffee she'd been nursing away, not needing another reason to be jittery.
Kurt finally emerges from the room, looking worse for wear, but still gives her the same encouraging nod as before.
He must not have received the results yet.
He comes to sit by her, pulling a chair up.
"How…how did it go?" she ventures.
"Only one ridiculous question," he says. "What about you?"
"Uhh, it was fine. I think. I'm still so confused about who I am, I'm not sure my answers are even relevant, let alone accurate.
He nods, seeming to understand she was asked about being Taylor without actually having to say it. Their communication often times superseding words, but rather jumping right to understanding.
Resting a hand on her shoulder, a friendly enough gesture. She finds herself, for the first time, noticing the look of terror that seems to present on everyone's faces. The thought of what they could be hiding crossing her mind, and then quickly dismissed. It was her that was hiding the secret. It was her that was deceiving everyone.
"So…more or less more terrifying than that HUGE spider?" he teases.
She laughs, a real laugh, the first one in past two days. "That thing was scary!"
"Sure, it was." He nods with a smile. "Come on, let's get out of here. Go get a coffee or something."
Looking down at the liquid she'd just pushed away, she agrees, anything to get a bit of fresh air, and a chance to relish in his company before the inevitable was revealed to him.
They walk side by side, his arm brushing against her own. His own little way of letting her know he's there without making a spectacle of themselves.
She looks up at him, examining his stubbled face. Why was it that as soon as things got good, an old scar she didn't even know she had, had to be violently ripped open, threatening everything?
"What was the one ridiculous question he asked?" Curiosity getting the better of her.
"He wanted to know if you'd gone out last night. It was the only question that was specifically about you."
Her eyes widen, her mind searching back to if she had been asked the same question. She couldn't remember. They were all jumbling in her mind.
"What did you say?"
"I told him yes. I left out the part about my bed being cold for the first night in weeks," he jokes.
Her face falls at that, but it goes unnoticed by him. They continue walking down the hall, and she boldly grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. He looks at her with confusion, but she just squeezes him tighter. If she was going down, she was going down in flames.
xxxxxx
This is based off the newest promo, and it was originally meant to be fluffy, no angst. Clearly, I'm incapable of such a thing.
We're almost at the two week mark until new episodes, and I'm excited to have some new material to work with. I hope you enjoyed this take, and please review!
Thank you!