Jane didn't know how long she'd been lying there. Alone. In disbelief.
It could have been hours, or just mere minutes ago that the carefully constructed world she had built for herself over the past few months emphatically collapsed.
After the initial shock, she'd made Oscar replay the video three times… maybe four… she couldn't quite remember because, to this minute, it continuously replayed in her mind. This stranger, with her voice, her eyes… offering supposed proof that this plan was all hers. Jane just couldn't grasp the concept that she was responsible for her own undoing.
She didn't know the man that had stood in front of her, couldn't read his eyes. The tree that adorned his arm, her memory of his face, told her without asking that he once meant a great deal to her, but for him, her heart was a blank slate. It was another man that now dominated her memories.
So, of all the questions she could have, no, should have asked, one took precedence over all others.
"Am I Taylor Shaw?" she pleaded, with her eyes, her heart. She needed to know… for herself, but also, and maybe more importantly, for the befuddled man she'd just left a few short hours ago. For while the initial longing that she be his lost childhood friend always lingered in his unyielding gaze, she had realized, after the possessive way he had held her in the street, that his longing was equally for the woman she was now. So while the answer to the question lessened in importance for her, she wanted to give Weller the resolution he deserved.
She couldn't determine whether it was sympathy or pity she saw register in Oscar's eyes at her inquiry, but a slight frown was all he could muster for her.
"I'll tell you everything… but not now," he had replied. "Weller and company will be here soon. I'll find you when the time is right."
"What do you mean? You're leaving me here?" she uttered in disbelief at Oscar's retreating form. "What do I say? What do I do?"
He paused and turned to look back. "Tell them the truth... tell them you were abducted by the CIA," he replied. "Just leave me and the video out of it."
Her panic was quickly setting in. How would she explain any of this when Weller showed up?
"Weller…"
She didn't dare utter more than a whisper, but her heart broke just saying his name. How happy she had been just a small time ago, to finally have the moment that she'd been thinking about for so long. That her bravery stemmed from another's tragedy - a tragedy that, for all intents and purposes, was her fault - made this story even sadder. Any hope for her future lay crushed under the weight of what Oscar's video had implicated.
This was her doing. She chose to do this to herself. She chose to infiltrate the FBI, to align herself with Weller, to use him to accomplish a specific mission. But what? And why?
Something wasn't right.
Sarah had gone to bed some time ago but Kurt just couldn't close his eyes. He was still shocked by what had transpired earlier on the street. After their foray into the world of undercover, he knew that something between Jane and him had shifted, but he also knew it still wasn't something he should act on.
Not that he didn't allow himself to think about it… and often. The feel of her arms draped over his shoulders, his fingertips pressed into the sharp turn of her hip, the warmth of her breath against his skin as they danced. It had all felt so… normal, even in the most extreme of circumstances.
He remembers now the helicopter ride back to the FBI building. Safe, sound, and back to being Kurt and Jane, she had still unconsciously reached for his hand… a gesture that had kept them tethered throughout the day. The solid metal of her ring against his skin had awakened feelings he couldn't quite comprehend. Nevertheless, and despite Zapata's raised eyebrow, he'd held on tight, knowing that as soon as their feet touched the ground the spell would be broken.
Tonight she had grabbed his hand once again, her grasp accompanied by a palpable need in her voice. When her lips had collided with his, the surprise of it only lasted a second. The absolute rightness of it all caused him to instantly pull her in.
Shortly after she'd left, Kurt realized how stupid he'd been to let her walk home alone. He was so dumbstruck at the time, and preoccupied by Sawyer's interruption, the thought never crossed his mind to call her detail and have them pick her up.
But it did now.
He'd left her that message over an hour ago and still hadn't heard anything back. He didn't want her to think him needy, but his worry outweighed his pride.
After another missed call to her phone, a call to her detail confirmed his suspicions. She'd never made it back.
"Patterson, give me something!" Weller shouted into the phone as he sped in the direction that Jane had walked just a few hours ago.
"I'm tracking the GPS on her phone," Patterson calmly responded, "just give it a few more seconds to triangulate her location."
Weller huffed his impatience, chiding himself for being so stupid.
That kiss had reduced him to a thoughtless teenager, and now Jane was paying the price for his mistake.
"I'm not going to lose her again," was all he could think as he raced through the city streets.
"Okay," Patterson chirped in his ear, "I've got her at a warehouse on the corner of E. 106th and 3rd.
"I'm 10 minutes out," Weller responded after plugging the address into his GPS. "Get her coordinates to Reade and Zapata immediately."
He abruptly hung up and stomped on the gas pedal.
Her fingertips burned. Not only from the fact that the bindings holding her wrists were slowly cutting off her circulation, but also from the memory of her skin against Weller's scruffy cheek… his ear… his neck.
She shuddered, part from the cold, damp wet that encompassed her, part from the feel of his lips against hers.
It has been about twenty minutes since the shrill of her phone had filled the empty warehouse space. Jane could only imagine that it was Weller wondering where she was. The fact that he probably had Patterson tracking her whereabouts gave her some small comfort, but she was still terrified to see him face to face.
Her head was swimming… traversing back and forth between her moment with Weller and Oscar's video. Back and forth between wanting Weller to rescue her and hoping she's never found, because if he finds her, the spark that had captivated them earlier would be extinguished.
How could she explore this new part of their relationship if she knows it's all a lie?
"But is it?" she asks herself.
She has no idea why she formulated this plan to begin with, what her endgame is. She supposes Oscar will explain that in time, but for now, isn't it up to her to decide what to make of her new situation?
Her feelings for Weller are real; she knows this… but that video was real too.
The sound of footsteps jolts Jane back to reality. She hears them nearing and strains to see who is approaching – praying at the same time that it both is and isn't Weller. Tears unconsciously stream down her cheeks and the panic begins to rise once again.
How does she go forward from here?
Weller circles the building twice while waiting for Reade and Zapata to arrive. The building is buttoned up tight, save for one side door that is slightly ajar. Zapata calls, they are ten minutes out, but Weller can't wait any longer.
He announces he's going in, hanging up on Zapata's protest. He's out of the car and through the door before he can formulate a plan.
His flashlight bounces off the dark walls, leads him towards a faint glow at the end of the long hallway he's found himself in. As the dim light grows, he sees two bodies slumped in the only open doorway. He inches towards them, ears open to any sound coming from within.
He reaches the two forms on the ground, and nudges both with a heavy foot. The pool of blood beneath them and their lack of response tell him he's probably in the right place.
He steps over the pair and presses his body against the wall. Leading with his weapon he quickly scales the corner. Amid the floor to ceiling pillars his light comes to rest against a third body. Weller scans from foot to head, and exhales sharply as he realizes its Carter.
Before he can formulate a thought on what the hell happened, her voice pulls him to the other side of the room.
She strains her neck to catch a glimpse of the doorway. All she can see at first is the glow of a flashlight as it bounces off the hallway walls. Then suddenly he's in the room, his light has found Carter's body and he's frozen.
The mixture of both fear and relief is too overwhelming. She can't stop the onslaught of emotional tears that flood her cheeks.
"Kurt…"
She doesn't even realize she's said his name until he abruptly turns from Carter, his eyes finding her own.
The first thing he sees is her eyes, the mischief they held earlier as she said goodbye now replaced by abject fear. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and she's close to hyperventilating.
His eyes leave hers and he sees that she's tied to a bench. He scans the room, sees the jug and towel on the floor, takes in her wet hair, soaked clothes and damp skin.
"Jane…" her name unconsciously leaves his lips as he rushes to her side. He holsters his weapon, drops his light, and his hands instantly cradle her face.
"Oh god, Jane, what happened?" He asks as his thumbs graze over her cheeks. He meant it as a comforting gesture but it only makes her cry harder.
His hands are on her cheeks and his eyes are full of unmasked concern. She should feel utter relief, but instead she starts to panic. All she wants to do is run, but she's still tied to the bench.
"Can you untie me?" she asks, afraid that she'll hit full panic attack mode if she doesn't get back her mobility immediately.
Weller jumps back in surprise, realizing that she was still bound to the bench.
He takes out his knife and cuts the ties that are holding her captive, but before she can get up and get some distance, he is lifting her to a seated position and enveloping her in his arms.
He murmurs words she can't understand as his fingers skim every inch of her that he can reach while she is wrapped in his embrace. It's everything she's ever wanted from him, but now she questions if she's even allowed to have it.
Without uttering a word she feels like she's already betrayed him. But his embrace is so inviting, she can't stop herself from relishing the moment.
His calming effect causes the immediacy of her panic to fade, but it lingers, along with the shock of everything that's happened to her this evening.
With her heart rate relatively back to normal, his hands slide to her shoulders and he pushes her out of his embrace.
"Who did this to you?" He asks as his eyes scan her face. "Was it Carter?" he probes. "Who shot him?"
These were the questions Jane was dreading, for she had no answers.
"I don't know," she mumbled, staring anywhere but directly into his eyes.
"Jane…"
She just shook her head, knowing that she knew everything and nothing all at once, and had no way to explain any of it to him.
A single fingertip under her chin forced her eyes to meet his own. What she saw there, the guilt and the fear, the longing and the love, it was too much.
"Kurt, I don't know," she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Okay, okay," he conceded, "We'll figure this out later."
He held her tight until they heard footsteps in the hallway, accompanied by the distinct sound of Zapata and Reade's voices.
Jane reluctantly pulled from his embrace, knowing that her grace period was almost over. They were going to want answers, and she still had no idea what she was going to say.