Author's Note: I don't own Blindspot. Unless you count the Blindspot DVD. That I do own. But then again, I'm guessing a majority of the people reading this also own Blindspot on DVD, iTunes, etc, so again, it doesn't give me any magical powers. So please don't sue.

This story takes place in Weller's apartment after the ending of 2.12, but without Weller recognizing Shepherd.

"To understand is to forgive - even oneself." Alexander Chase

Jane took another sip of the beer, staring at the bottle for a moment before stretching out and setting it back on the table. Weller was right, she thought, this stuff was pretty good; or maybe that was just because she was on her third bottle of the night.

They hadn't spoken much since moving to the couch, each lost in their own thoughts. Jane knew things may never get back to the way they were before, and she had made her peace with that. Their relationship had been improving though, ever since the Sandstorm raid. That had been the real turning point, she thought. Kurt no longer second guessed her motives and they had even been pairing up again while out on assignment. So while she knew how much things had changed, she was still grateful for this – talking, being comfortable with each other, the beginning of a real friendship. It was more than she could have hoped for a month ago.

After she'd left Roman, she had wandered around the city for a while. It was a habit that had been formed shortly after she had come to the FBI, and it hadn't changed, even when everything else had. Whenever she had too much on her mind, the only thing that could calm her, keep her from getting lost in her own thoughts, was to get out. Being inside was too confining; her thoughts echoed off the empty walls, bombarding her until she felt like breaking.

But what she hadn't planned on was winding up in front of Kurt's apartment building. Her mind instantly flashed to the last time she'd waited outside these doors, before everything, and she refused to get caught up in the memory. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had walked down to a convenience store, picking up a pack of Prima beer, and was knocking on his door.

She needed him to know that she understood how lonely it could be; how much it hurt to lose something you never even had. Most of all, she had just wanted to be there for him, the way he always had for her.

Sounds a little dumb, but my whole apartment feels empty now.

It's not dumb. That you're feeling alone.

And there's really no reason that we both should be sitting home alone.

Jane took a deep breath, upsetting the balance in the quiet apartment, and she could feel Kurt's eyes on her. "Did you mean what you said?" She bit her lip, never taking her eyes off the bottle in front of her. She was sure that if she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to control her reaction. Even still, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Kurt sat up, leaning forward so his posture matched hers – his arms resting on his knees, his bottle dangling from his hands. He was at a loss trying to think of what she was talking about – did he mean what? He tried to think of everything that had happened over the past few days – Roman, Allie, Nas – it had all blurred together into one giant mess. "What do you mean Jane?" his voice was heavy, rougher than he had intended.

"About Roman…" she sighed, her voice soft as she added, "How you treated me." In that moment, Jane was reliving it all. The fear she felt when she saw his gun pointed at her, the complete and utter confusion, her desperate attempts to explain it all, the cool steel of the handcuffs as they tightened around her wrists. Even with everything that followed, that night still haunted her in her nightmares. How in 24 hours everything had changed between them. That night they had both lost so much. That night was the beginning of the end.

You have to treat him like any dangerous asset. Same way that I treated you when I found out who you were.

"Jane." Her name came out more like a sigh, and Kurt didn't know what he even planned to say. How could he respond to that? He lifted the bottle, taking a long drink, hoping to regain some confidence, or at least dull his senses. He remembered that night. Of course he remembered that night. He didn't think he could ever forget it. Although the edge was gone, softened by time, the memory was still so visceral, even just thinking about it brought up the same knots in his stomach, the same sense of pain and betrayal he had felt. He felt like he had lost everything that night.

He tried to concentrate on her words, pushing down the memories. Did he regret his actions?

No.

His stomach churned, and all of a sudden it wasn't the just the memory that made him feel sick. He hadn't. Maybe the circumstances should have been better. He certainly hadn't known the CIA would take her; he never knew about the torture. He would live with that regret for the rest of his life, of that that he was sure.

Even though they knew more now than they did then, deep down, he knew he had made the right choice.

"That night…" he started, his voice rough. "It should have never gotten that far." He stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on the past. "Mayfair – " the sound was cut off, his voice strangled for a moment as he tried to regain his composure. "Mayfair warned me. Questioned my judgment constantly, asked if she should pull me from the case. I kept telling her I was fine, that I could handle it. But I think I knew even then…"

Jane turned to him, her eyes pleading. "But why…"

Kurt swallowed his emotions, forcing himself to forget their past, forget what had happened. "We thought you were a victim." He could see her mouth opening, ready to protest. "And you were, in a way. But even still – you weren't treated as a victim, Sandstorm knew that. Shepherd manipulated both of us to make sure of that. You were given access that no other victim would."

That was it, he knew. No matter how Jane showed up at their door, Shepherd must have known that she could get access. Even on that first day, she wasn't a victim. No, her fierceness and determination shone through, as she followed them along, demanding to be let out in the field, to chase down suspects, to be a full member of the team. It hadn't taken long for them all to accept her new role. She had gone from victim to asset to an agent in less than week. No other victim – no other person – could have done that.

"Maybe you feel that Roman isn't being treated fairly, but the truth is…" Weller took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. He wasn't sure what he was more nervous about – admitting the truth to her, or to himself.

Jane's eyes clenched shut, suddenly feeling sick as a wave of despair swept over her. "So you think I'm the same? Like Dr. Sun said? Roman can't be fixed, and neither can I?" She stood up quickly, fighting back the tears that were already threatening to spill over. She thought they had been making progress, but no, he thought Roman was past salvation and so was she. Jane stumbled as she rushed around, blindly grabbing at her jacket and keys, the tears already making her vision blurry.

"Jane," His voice rang out. "Jane!" It was louder this time, and all of a sudden she felt his hand on his arm. She froze, but couldn't turn to face him.

"Jane," he said softer this time, his voice just barely louder than a whisper. He gently rubbed her arm, the movements so small and his touch so light he wasn't even sure if she could feel them. "I didn't say that."

Jane felt herself relax, just slightly, and let out a breath she hadn't even know she was holding. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

"I…" Kurt started, unsure of how to continue. How could he explain what he meant, when he didn't fully understand it himself? All he knew for sure was that he couldn't let Jane leave thinking that she was beyond repair. "Jane…" he tried again. "I don't know if Dr. Sun is right about Roman. And I meant what I said – I'll try and get him a window or something." He could feel her muscles relaxing under his touch, and he took that as a good sign. "But I know she was wrong about you Jane. You are good. You are not that same little girl from the orphanage. You are not the trained killer Shepherd raised. You are a good person. You do the right thing." He emphasized the last words; there was not a doubt in his mind about that – not anymore.

Whoever you were then... that's not who you are now.

You do the right thing…. I do think you're a good person.

"But I'm not, at least, I don't know." Jane's voice was quiet. She refused to even look at Kurt. She knew he would tell her it would all be okay, but how could it? 'Okay' was a possibility that had disappeared months ago. Now all it was time for was to pay penance, to not cause any more damage than had what already been done.

"What do you mean?" He thought for sure this was one thing she knew for certain, one thing that could never be in doubt, not any more.

Jane's own words flashed through her mind. "Every time I raise a gun, there's a… a small part of me, this urge, from somewhere deep inside to… to pull the trigger." Roman's voice, firm and steady, not sharing an old memory, but instead relaying a current threat. "You snapped its neck quicker than any kid in there." "I'm a sociopath….because you... you taught me how." No, Jane hadn't just grown up in the same place in the same way – she had been worse.

And ever since Dr. Sun had made her diagnosis, the same worry had haunted Jane.

"Borden was a mole. He needed me to have access to make Shepherd's plan work. If he told the truth, it would all disappear. I told him everything, but he was just using me." Jane practically spat out the last words, disgusted with the thought. Every memory, every session they had, it had all been a lie.

The realization that one of their own was a Sandstorm operative, actively working against them, had been hard enough. But when Jane had heard Dr. Sun's diagnosis, it was not just Roman she had been afraid for.

There had been so much said in those sessions that were 'private.' Borden had assured her time and time again that their sessions were confidential. Every worry she had voiced, every memory she had recovered, not only had Shepherd instantly known about it, but they had been used against her, twisting and manipulating her so that now she no longer knew who she was.

Our sessions are confidential. Whatever you share, it stays here.

You need to talk to me, Jane. I can't help you if you won't tell me the truth.

"What else did he lie about? He couldn't tell the truth, he couldn't let me know how terrible of a person I was… That first day, in Chinatown. I almost killed him, before you stopped me. I'm no different than my brother. What if I can't feel… what if I can't love?" She finally turned to Kurt, her expression raw, the pain evident on her face.

Kurt stared into her eyes, willing to do anything to take the pain away, but unsure how to calm the panic in her eyes. She had already been through so much, and she didn't deserve this. Not on top of everything else. No one did. She had already lost herself, was at her most vulnerable, and then to realize that someone that they had all trusted had been pulling the strings all along.

"No, Jane, you are one of the most empathetic people I know." Kurt's voice was firm, and he turned himself so he could face her. He gently took both hands, and looked straight into her eyes. "Just yesterday, you connected with Stepulov –"

"That didn't work."

"But you tried Jane. He still opened up to you. And countless other people have also. That's because of who you are. You make people feel safe; you relate to them. Borden had nothing to do with that. That's just who you are and who you always have been. Shepherd may have used your empathy for her own personal gain, but that doesn't change the fact that you are one of the kindest, most caring people I know."

Kurt reached out, gently laying his hand against her cheek. With his thumb, he brushed away a stray tear that had fallen. "I'm sorry Jane. There's a lot of things that… that shouldn't have happened this year. That should have been differently. But with Roman, we just can't…"

Jane leaned into his gentle touch, almost afraid to speak, afraid to ruin the moment. He trusted her. After everything that happened, he was still on her side. "I know," she whispered.

She knew he was right. Jane had been given the benefit of the doubt, but with Roman – they knew. There was no denying the truth. Even when Jane had struggled with memories, with her actions, she had kept her freedom. She had been given chance after chance, and it all still came crashing down. And Jane herself had had to face punishment for the crimes that Remi had committed, and so would Roman.

"Thanks though. For giving him a chance today." She hesitantly reached out, gently touching his left shoulder. "Even if he shot you."

Weller's skin tingled with electricity under her gentle touch. He fought the urge to reach out, grab her hand and hold it there, no matter how inappropriate it was. The loss as her hand dropped away felt as painful as the bruise on his skin. He knew why Jane had been treated so differently than Roman. Even now, after they knew the truth, the slightest touch between them sent shockwaves through his body. He could never be objective, not when it came to Jane.

This story went through so many variations and I couldn't ever quite figure out where it was going or how I wanted to do this. So it sat on my desktop, unfished for months. Then suddenly this week it clicked. At least I hope it did.