Disclaimer: I don't own blindspot :(
This is set in the beginning of season 2 - I was intrigued by the amount of angst in the first episode and decided to take it further. I felt terrible for Jane and wanted to emphasize how broken she could be from her experience and see how the team would react.
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Chapter 1
Broken
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Jane woke up screaming. Her body lurched and spasmed in the aftershocks of relived torture and her raw throat gasped for breath. Clutching desperately at the sheets, she hurled her body over the side of the bed and aimed her churning stomach towards the waiting bucket. Long after she had emptied her stomach her belly continued to twist and roil painfully with dry heaves. Once the spasms stopped she gingerly crawled to her feet. The clock read 2:47AM… great… Mindlessly she picked up the bucket and trudged to the bathroom to rinse it out.
Exiting the bathroom, Jane grimaced as she stepped into the kitchen for some water. She should eat something, but, as always, her stomach revolted at even the thought of food. Maybe later. Her apartment was stark and stripped of any personal effects. What was the point in collecting things that she would never use. She was very aware that her life probably wasn't going to last much longer anyway. The only sign that she lived there was in the living room where she had set up mats and a punching bag.
She slowly stretched and cleared her mind of the nightmares. As she pushed her body through endless exercises she punished herself harshly. Even without the team's help, Jane had long accepted that she deserved pain for her stupid decisions. She had thought she was doing the right thing but she was wrong. Mayfair was dead and it was her fault. She pushed her body faster and forced herself to punch harder, kick higher and stretch further.
The team can't stand her very presence and she welcomes their hatred. Zapata had already told her that they would never forgive or forget what she had done. The cruel barbs and unveiled contempt from each member of the team only cemented what she already knew; it was her fault and she was alone. This was her third (or was it fourth?) chance at life and she seemed to screw it up worse each time. She found herself on her knees, battered and bruised. She was tired, so tired. Jane ached to curl up in the corner until everything faded into nothing, until she felt …. nothing.
There was one redeemable aspect of her life - one thing that she held onto and that got her out the door - that she could still help them. No matter how unwelcome her presence. No matter how much they despised her, she could still get close to Sandstorm and she could still fight to protect them. It was the least she could do; a final act of penance.
Hours later she showered and prepared to go to work. She made a cup of coffee and even managed a couple bites of banana before she gagged. Pausing in front of the mirror, she studied her sunken and tired features and fingered the dark circles under her eyes. Pull it together, Jane. Focus on today. Focus on the mission. Help the team. Pain is a dream. Only a little longer, now. She repeated the mantra to herself silently as she washed her face and carefully concealed any sign of weakness. Her clothes hid the bruises from her overzealous workouts and makeup masked the gauntness of her features. She didn't dare give the team any more ammo to use against her.
If you like the story - I have a few more ideas for chapters, if not I can just leave it as a one-shot
super inspired by ElineS and Loretta Lyon's fics check them out… loving the angst right now