Reborn

He's so used to keeping himself closed off that it is easy to hide his darker thoughts from everyone, even Jane. Borden has exclusive rights to the thoughts that keep him up at night, bound as they are by doctor patient confidentiality and the continued sessions his team are obliged to take advantage of. His paranoia still hasn't figured the Doctor out yet, hasn't been able to figure out whether behind his calm veneer he's judging him for the things he hates most about himself. But the rational part of him, the bigger part, knows that Borden is more than just an outsider looking through a window to his mind; he lives their lives with them.

'I want to revisit what we spoke about last week, about the remains in the barn.'

They've been circling his jealousy for weeks now. Ever since the truth came out about Jane and the man whose body they recovered from the burning barn thoughts of the two of them have near consumed him. He has forgiven and forgotten the original betrayal; understood that whatever she did she did because she needed to protect him, wanted to do what she thought was right. The person she was before she emerged from the bag in Times Square was gone, to be replaced by someone whose default was to protect those she cared about against all odds. Instead his mind jolted, constantly, back to her admission that things had gone deeper with Oscar. The man whose face he could not picture.

'I think it would be helpful for us to talk about whether your feelings come from the perception of a threat, or wanting to protect Jane?'

He had nothing to forgive her for, he knows. He doesn't even feel angry with her anymore. But in his dreams he sees her pressed up against a faceless man, contorted with him on a bed in a way he hoped to have exclusive rights. He imagines hands that aren't his tracing the patterns on her skin, discovering her first when it should have been him.

'So, you want her to yourself? Feel like now you've been robbed of that?'

It's selfish, so selfish. He has no claim to her, hell, he was dating Allie the whole time she was with Oscar. But he still feels like it should be different for her, although it makes him a hypocrite.

'She was delivered to you, your name is her most prominent and isolated tattoo, perhaps that's why you feel you lay a claim to her?'

Claim her. He has no right to claim her in any way.

'She's not Taylor,' he says finally, after several moments of silence, and registers the shock on Borden's face. He wonders if he suddenly sounds more open, 'She never was. But she never was her past self either. There's no way I can match the Jane I know now to the person we know she was then. She was reborn when we hauled her out of that bag. A new person. A fresh start.'

'Almost virginal,' Borden says bluntly and Kurt wonders, not for the first time, whether he can read his mind.

'I guess I'm just having a hard time with the idea that I'm not the first person she came to in this life, and that I never played a role in her past one. And I'm struggling with feeling that way when I know it's wrong. I wanted to be her first. I wanted to be her fresh start.'

Borden's expression doesn't change as he leans forward to pour fresh water into both of their glasses. Kurt gulps his gratefully and meets the Doctor's eye, still expecting to see judgement there. His head hurts and he knows his face will be red from the effort of containing his emotions by now, but still Borden's face remains calm, comforting, collected. Kurt would hate him if he didn't bleed sincerity.

'I love her…' he trails off, the statement requires nothing further and Borden offers him a sad smile.

'Then may I suggest you tell her how you've been feeling? Perhaps this is something that you can help one another through.'

Kurt raises an eyebrow, 'Careful Doc, you're in danger in breaking confidentiality here.'

'Nothing confidential about it,' Borden laughs, 'I won't tell either of you what the other says to me in these sessions. I'm loathe to even confirm to either of you that the other even opens their mouth here. But it doesn't take a doctorate in psychiatry to know that the key to any relationship problem is communication.'

'You think she'll be okay with me saying these things?' he snaps, harsher than he intended, 'Thinking them? Feeling them? You don't think she'll feel trapped by me? Like she can't separate herself from me without being scared of how that might play out? You don't thi-'

'I think,' Borden raised a hand to silence him, 'That in asking yourself those questions you're betraying a desire to protect her from yourself. Do you think she needs protecting from you?'

'No.' He doesn't even need to hesitate. His voice is final. This is not what he comes her to query.

'Then talk to her,' Borden said softly, sipping his water, 'Reassure her, let her reassure you. You're in this together whether you confide in one another or not… why not try openness for once?'

Later, he finds her hands in the dark, curls his arms around her to pull her close. Even with the distance he has forced between them emotionally they still find one another in the night; primal in their need for skin on skin to sleep soundly. He waits for her breathing to steady but not slow, for when she is lucid but not drifting off to sleep. He's not ready, feels like he will never be ready for this conversation, to open up his heart and his insecurities for her to study. To spit him out if she sees fit. Still, he holds his breath and tries to conjure the words, exhales against the soft skin of her neck.

'I want-' he pauses, breathes deeper, and presses his forehead to her shoulder, 'I need to know about you and Oscar.'