Ten minutes had passed since he'd charged into the apartment like a bolt of lightning streaking madly across the sky, all its heat and chaos demanding release. He'd slammed the door behind him, pacing back and forth twice in the entryway while his fingers swept across his head, down to his neck. Then his heavy footed steps took him to Sawyer's room, disregarding her soft pleas to talk to her, to let Sawyer sleep.
In a move that made no sense to her, Kurt had opened the door to Sawyer's bedroom, braced his shoulder up against the doorframe, and simply rooted himself to that spot. For ten minutes now, he'd been standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, just watching. Sarah gave him that latitude for now, not questioning him, not demanding any answers, though she had every right to. He'd left her there, driven to God knows where, and then she couldn't even get in touch with him because his phone had died. So many times through the years, he'd done similar things; disappeared to hunt down a lead on a case, gone days without telling her anything, curled up in a dark corner of his own mind and shut the door for days or weeks at a time, always leaving her to wonder if there would ever be a time when he just...wouldn't come back.
She wanted to yank him away from the doorframe, tug him into the living room, demand to know what had happened. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that he needed to watch Sawyer, watch him breathe, she assumed. Detecting some subtle movement at long last, Sarah stepped a little closer as Kurt's arms uncrossed from his chest. In the darkened hallway, illuminated only by the faintest glimmer of light from the kitchen, she just barely noticed Kurt's right hand trembling. He seemed aware of it instantly, clenching his hand into a tight fist. This was her moment, and she strode forward with purpose, taking that clenched fist and purposefully working her hand into his. He fought her for a moment, tensing his fingers, but she persisted, and he relented, letting her fingers fully wrap around his.
"Kurt, what happened?" Sarah asked, her voice a harsh whisper as it cut the air between them.
He surrendered a dark laugh to the shadows, and the sound of it was eerie enough to hang icicles from her spine.
"I promised...I promised I'd protect her."
She didn't even need to ask for further clarification. "Taylor," her voice seemed to say, separate from herself, heavy with the weight of twenty-five years and the resignation of a little girl who finally understood that her friend would never come home.
If Kurt found her, that meant - "Fort Boone," Kurt mumbled, each word leaving his lips with sharp, slow precision, resentful of existing, of bringing to life such awful truths.
"God...no. No," she recoiled; not from him, from everything shattering around her all at once. The father she had loved, whose innocence she had championed her entire life, was the kind of monster Kurt devoted his whole life to chasing down.
The monster had been sleeping down the hall, manipulating them, playing board games with her son. Her grip on Kurt's hand tightened, and that seemed to draw him out of his own stupor. Shutting the door to Sawyer's room, Kurt led her to the living room, standing there looking so lost until his arms moved swiftly to cradle her to his chest. He was protecting her again, like he always had, with his hand on the back of her head and his other arm firm around her back. Nothing would come for her in his embrace. Nothing could penetrate the circle of his arms.
"He won't hurt anyone now," he promised.
Burying her face against his neck, Sarah's own arms shifted to grasp onto him with the same fierceness of dying stars clinging to the sky, feeling the light burn out of them, feeling their bodies go back to shadow. She could feel that creeping in, that darkness Kurt pushed and punched and fought away, protecting her from their whole lives. It was coming for both of them now, and as she clung to him, his hold on her tightened. He knew what she was afraid of, what was sickening her with each passing second as all the old memories tainted the new ones.
"You couldn't...it's not your fault." He blamed himself for not protecting Taylor, he had lived with so much guilt all these years, and for a few, painfully brief months, her brother had finally been free.
But that meant Jane Doe wasn't Taylor, had never been. The woman who'd woken up with no memories, with her brother's name imprinted on her back, was still a mystery.
"Kurt," she needed to know, composing herself enough to ask, "What about Jane?" Because she knew her brother; there was so much he would never tell her outright, but she saw the fondness in his eyes when he spoke of her, the easy laughter she could pull from him, the way he smiled more in recent weeks.
His only answer was an inexplicable one, his head shaking as she felt the muscles of his neck tense and roll beneath her hands.
Oh, no. No. He wouldn't do this. Not with everything going on now.
"Did you tell her? Kurt. Did you tell her the truth?"
Just like that, his arms around her were just a memory, his jaw tensing as he pulled away and went for a drink from the kitchen, pouring himself a glass and downing it in one go. "She's in custody."
That took a second to comprehend. "...what? You...arrested her? Kurt, why?" She could hear her own voice, the cracks and ripples in it, and she was amazed she could even speak full sentences now. Somehow, understanding what had become of Jane was preferable to cycling through the last twenty-five years of her life, second guessing her choices, and accepting that her father had killed their friend. If acceptance would come at all.
"She lied," he growled, slamming the glass so hard it broke and pierced his skin.
Sarah's eyes widened when she noted the blood, but Kurt stood there unmoving, like he didn't notice, or didn't care. Grabbing the closest thing - a dish towel - Sarah took his hand, wrapping it up to stop the blood after she'd removed the one large piece of glass embedded in his palm.
"She doesn't know who she is. Kurt, if she's not Taylor, then she's back to square one. She's just as lost as you," Sarah spoke softly now. They did this so well, the two of them, trading strength; he'd held her moments ago when a few simple words broke the ground beneath her. Now she was trying to carry her brother from one moment to the next.
"I don't...wanna see her." Mere seconds ago, his words had been full of venom, and now they were small and unsure.
"You don't have to see her tonight, or tomorrow. But you need to see her. At least talk to her, okay? And don't...don't shut me out. We need each other." They always have, but especially now.
His silent nod was reassuring, at least, and she knew not to expect more than that from her brother. Sighing, she tossed the towel onto the counter, looking over the mess and trying not to cry as she helped him bandage his hand.
"Come here," he coaxed, taking her hand with his uninjured one, after they'd wrapped the wound with gauze and tape. Leading her to the couch, he stretched his legs out and pulled his sister against his side.
They hadn't done this for years, not since her marriage was falling apart, and her brother - as always - was the calm center in the middle of a maelstrom. Crying openly now, Sarah curled up against him, gripping part of his shirt in her hand, her cries tapering off slowly as her brother's fingers stroked through her hair and eventually lulled her to sleep, to a place where she could be safe until dawn broke her heart open anew.