Summary: Inspired by a scene from Lost between Jack and Kate (S02E19 / "I'm sorry I kissed you"). Requested by imalittleredtorvette on tumblr. Jane finally confronts Weller about their kiss. Set a few weeks after 1.10, Weller has distanced himself from Jane and she thinks it's because of what happened between them that night.

I'll Break My Armour and Give You Half

She finds him in the locker room, seated on the bench, nursing his wrapped hand. He briefly glances up to see who it is before dropping his gaze back down focusing intently on the space between his feet. She says nothing as she makes her way towards her locker. It's an unnerving silence that settles around them, one that's been ever present since the morning after the night of her abduction, since the night of they kissed.

She had gone straight to Mayfair after her abduction and the reveal given to her by the Tree Tattoo Man. And what she had done then was the exact opposite of what he had told her and what the other version of her told her. She'd told Mayfair the truth, all of it, and braced herself for the worst. The surprise came in the assistant director's response to her admission. She was going to cover up Carter's death. And as for the rest of it, Mayfair was going to cover up that too. Jane had been shocked. She'd expected to be arrested, questioned, anything but not still be welcome with open arms. "Why are you doing this?" Jane had asked her, and Mayfair's reply had come in the form of one word. Redemption.

"Because this… you are a chance at redemption. For all of us."

Jane didn't understand much, but a part of her knew that one of the reasons the other her did all this must have been a way to seek redemption as well. She understood that. Mayfair understood that too.

She walks past Weller, taking a quick look at his injured hand, something that had happened a few hours as they went after an especially skilled suspect. Silently, she goes through her locker, shoving her sidearm inside and reaching in for a clean shirt. She makes as little noise as possible, terrified of upsetting the silence between them.

It had started after Mayfair briefed the team of the situation, of the plan going forward. Weller had shut her out. He'd shut almost everyone out but especially her. And it killed her. A part of her knew it was because of what the truth had revealed, how it had all been her plan, how he had been a pawn in her scheme from the beginning. Another part kept going back to their kiss, to that brief moment when her life had stopped spinning out of control and everything had made sense. It was short-lived, but it is the anchor she constantly goes back to. When she lies in her bed at night, thinking how the puzzle just keeps getting more complicated, how the more they pieces they manage to put in place, the more complex and confusing it become, the only thing that keeps her world from spiralling out of control is that moment.

But that is all she has left, the memory of it, because since that night, the times he has looked at her, let alone spoken to her, could be counted on one hand. She blames herself, of course, but she does not dare to cross over to him. As long as he wants that distance between them, she will respect it.

Even if it kills her. Even if every time she looks up at him in the morning to greet him, he looks away, sending an ice cold chill down her spine. Even if that every time the team needs to split up he immediately teams up with Tasha.

That is until this morning, as they had planned their next move, he had casually stated, very plainly, "Reade and Zapata, you're together on this. Jane and I will check his ex-wife's apartment." It had taken her a moment to catch on to that, but he'd just walked out of the room, sending her sprinting after him to catch up. It had been the single moment of hope after all those long weeks. But that hadn't meant everything had been fixed. Their conversations during the day had been limited to case related issues, and even then, he kept it to a minimum.

But it had given her hope. So when she steps out, changed into a clean shirt, and sees him still sitting on the bench, she approaches, slowly, like a person approaches a wounded animal. She sits down slowly, cringing when the bench squeaks. She settles next to him, leaving a good distance, respecting that silence that never seems to leave. When he makes to move to leave, or even slide down further, she clears her throat and speaks.

"How's your hand?" she asks the safest, most professional question she can think of.

He moves his fingers gingerly, twisting his wrist slightly, as if he were testing it before he answers. He doesn't look up. His eyes dart in her direction for a second and he says, "It's fine. Just a hairline fracture."

It's a short, abrupt answer, but she feels a weight lift off her chest that he replies, doesn't dodge the answer. That he is still sitting next to her. She nods, a soft hum escapes her lips and it is her turn to stare between her feet. She can just get up and leave, but just being in the same room as him, without him finding an excuse to get up and leave… that is enough for now.

She feels a sudden change. She cannot explain it except as a warm change, and when she looks back up she finds him looking at her. His face is more relaxed, less stern than she'd gotten used to recently. Her gaze catches his and the first thought that comes to her mind is Allison's warning, walls that may never come down. But still, she needs to cling to this rare moment, so she tries again, knowing she is pushing her luck. "What are we going to do now?" she asks.

Keep it about the case, she tells herself.

He keeps quiet, stares at her, and a small playful smile teases his lips. A blink and you'll miss it moment, but it's there. "I'm going to wait till my hand heals, then I'm going after him again," he admits, seriously. They're quiet again, by their own choice, and the deafening silence that has haunted them for weeks seems to take another step backwards. She watches his injured hand as he twists again and his focus goes back towards the ground. Jane takes a deep breath and bites her lip. Courage bubbles within her, a courage she can't place, and she finds herself shifting ever so slightly towards him.

And the words leave her lips before she has time to weigh them. "I'm sorry I kissed you."

She doesn't know where the confession comes from, or why it chose this moment to come tumbling out. She wants to apologise, take it back, pretend it didn't happen. She drops her head, doesn't dare to look up at him and she prays he didn't hear her. But the way his head snaps up, his eyes dart towards her, she knows he did.

He looks at her, then back at the ground, then back at her. He opens his mouth to speak, no words come out and he licks his lips. And then he smiles, a small smile and a shake of his head, and then he is turning towards her, for the first time in weeks, focusing all his attention at her, looking at her and only her.

"I'm not," he says, and with those words the violent silence, that has accompanied them all those weeks, disappears.

It is her turn to spin towards him, shocked, speechless. And she has a thousand questions, all of which fail to turn into words. She shifts closer instead, leaving just enough space to give him room to exit if he needs, but he doesn't. He just sits there. Calm, quiet, and the questions in her head are so loud, so deafening. Her eyes meet his, and all she can see is sincerity.

And then he asks a question.

"Why?"

Her throat is dry, her brain a fog, and her gaze drops momentarily to his lips, before she remembers how to speak.

"Why what?" is her innocent reply.

"Why are you sorry?" he wonders.

And to this she has an immediate answer. "I'm not," she counters.

"But you just - " he says, the sudden burst of clarity he's had with his initial answer beginning to crack under her merciless gaze. And her eyes have never looked more beautiful than they are now, exposed to him, vulnerable.

"I thought… I thought you were… Thought you regretted it, and I wanted to give you an out," she admits.

"Why would you think… why would you think that?" he asks.

She lets out a heavy sigh, followed by an exasperated chuckle, and she remembers his words from a few weeks ago. His communication skills do suck. "Because you've shut me out ever since. Because you can barely look at me or talk to me," she says.

He moves then, closes the gap between them, and his hand sits next to hers on the bench. "And you thought that was because of our kiss? You thought I wish it hadn't happened?" he asks.

"I don't know… maybe… partly… I'm not sure. It's all been so so confusing," she says, "it's been so hard not having you to talk to," she whispers the last part, drops her head and shuts her eyes for a moment. The admission, the heat of his proximity, it is all getting a little too much.

He studies her, kicks himself for letting things get that bad between them. He lifts a hand to her face, presses a thumb against her cheek and relaxes when she opens her eyes and meets his. His plan doesn't leave her face as he speaks, almost whispers as he leans into her. "I'm sorry I pushed you away. I just… I didn't know how else to deal with… I let you down, Jane, I failed you," he says, "it is my job to make sure you are safe and…" he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes as her scent fills him, "I do not regret our kiss, I… it's probably the best thing that has… I let you go back home alone when I knew I shouldn't. Carter abducting you, torturing you… that was all my fault and I just didn't know how to deal with that."

She shakes her head and leans in closer, enough for her forehead to rest against his. "It's not your fault. It wasn't your fault, Kurt. I'm so sorry," she says.

She feels his lips, warm and steady, against her forehead and then he is tilting her chin up. She bites her lip and feels the weight of his gaze as it travels between her eyes and mouth. He starts to lean in when -

"Hey, guys!"

Patterson's voice comes from the doorway and they both jump back quickly.

"We have a lea-" Patterson says as she walks in, and notices just what she has walked in on, "Oh, shit. Oh, shit, I am so sorry you guys." She starts to back out, an apologetic look on her face.

"What is it, Patterson?" Weller huffs, trying his best to hide his irritation at this very ill timed intrusion. Jane looks back and forth between him and Patterson, and she has to work hard to stifle her giggle at the ridiculous situation.

"Erm… yea.. erm… we…" Patterson mumbles.

"We're right behind you," Jane says, giving both agents an out of this awkward moment. Patterson gives her a grateful look and quickly walks. Next to her, Weller sighs, his head drops and he takes a deep breath. When he looks back up at her, there is a smile on his lips. A smile she has missed desperately recently.

"Shall we?" he asks, pushing himself up and offering her his hand.

She takes it, amazing at how perfectly it fits. She follows him out, hands still clasped, just until they reach the doorway.

But that's enough. For now.

Well, here it is. I hope I respected and did justice to both ships in this. And I hope you guys liked it. Either way, please let me know.