A/N: Another drabble idea that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. Big thanks to my beta for proofing this and giving some good advice, once again :).
Disclamer: Blindspot still belongs to MG et co. Not mine, just borrowing.
The day had been rough. They had been called to help with a case with the NYPD. It wasn't a case that they would normally be involved in, but as it included the family of a former FBI agent, they had been called in.
The five-year-old daughter of the woman had been grabbed by her ex-husband, the girl's father. Negotiators had tried to talk with the man, but as he kept ranting and finally stopped talking with them, the only option left was to breach the house in which the man and his daughter were locked up. The scene that greeted them in the house was something that would be hard to forget.
The father had stabbed the little girl to death but had still carefully tucked her into her bed, with her plush toys by her side. After that, he had killed himself, leaving a note for his ex-wife saying he simply could not live without her or their daughter.
The events had affected them all, but Jane could tell it hit Kurt particularly hard. Reade and Zapata had thought it wiser to steer clear of Weller and give him the space he needed, so they went to coordinate the handling of the scene and the next steps with the NYPD.
Jane had cautiously approached Kurt on the front steps of the house as he was staring off into the distance, still wearing his vest. She had grabbed his fingers gently, trying to let him know she was there, but he had pulled his hand away, almost as if her touch had burned him.
"Jane, I…I need to think," he told her brusquely, not even making eye contact with her before he turned and walked away to the backyard of the house.
The ride to the NYO was silent. Jane could feel the tension radiating off Kurt. His whole body was tense and he gripped the SUV's steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. As they got to the NYO and went to deal with the administrative reports of the case, Kurt was tight as a coiled spring. Unfortunately, it was Patterson who sprung it.
As she approached Weller, worried for her friend, he uncharacteristically snapped at her. Sure, Kurt did have a temper at times, but never had it really been directed at Patterson. Surprised even himself, Kurt apologized to her and then quickly turned on his heels and headed for the locker room. Looking at Kurt's retreating back for second, Patterson cast a worry-filled look at Jane. Jane didn't say anything, but gave her blonde friend a pained, knowing look. At that point, Reade had intervened and told Jane that she and Kurt should head home and that he and Tasha would handle the paperwork. Jane thanked Reade and set off for the locker room to look for her husband, the worry she felt over Kurt growing by the minute.
Now, at home, Jane quietly observed Kurt from the bedroom doorway. He was sitting on the side of the bed, facing away from the door. Her heart was bleeding at the sight of the man she loved. Kurt looked defeated: his shoulders were slumped and his normally confident posture was gone. His arms were resting against his thighs and his head was cast down, like he was staring at something on the floor. He had told her as they arrived home that he was going to take a shower, but that had been ten minutes ago. He had sat down on the bed and hadn't moved since.
Jane decided she could no longer watch Kurt torture himself and quietly made her way to him.
She stopped in front of her husband and reached out a hand to touch him, her fingers tenderly tracing his stubbly cheek. "Kurt…," she spoke softly.
At the sound of his name, Kurt turned his face up, his gaze meeting hers. Jane saw the redness in his eyes and the tears threatening to spill over.
"I failed that little girl, Jane," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion, exhaustion radiating off him. He turned his head away again, leaning his forehead against Jane.
Jane wished more than anything that she could take his pain away, or at least ease it. She kept running her hand lovingly through Kurt's hair and down to the nape of his neck, before whispering to him gently: " Kurt, you did everything you could."
Kurt shook his head. "No. I should've just…" He drew in a shuddering breath, barely holding back tears. "How can a father….how can anyone…?"
As if realizing what he had just said, Kurt's body tensed again. Jane knew what dark path he was heading down. Even after nearly 30 years, Kurt still carried the guilt of that one night on his shoulders. That young boy inside him still reminding him how he'd failed Taylor. And no doubt his perfectly calibrated moral compass piled on the blame, making him feel responsible for what his father had done. Jane felt the anger at Kurt's parents rise within her. As someone who had gotten behind Kurt's walls, she knew how deep and painful those memories were for him, although he usually managed to hide it. It was only during rare moments like now, when Kurt had dropped his guard, that you could see his pain.
Jane heard Kurt's breath hitch and saw his shoulders shaking.
"I should've know he wasn't going to respond to them," Kurt spoke through his tears, referring to the negotiators' attempts.
"Oh, Kurt…" Jane was almost physically ill, seeing his agony; this case had hit too close to home. She sat next to him on the bed and pulled him into her. He resisted slightly at first, but at her hushed, loving tone, the fight left him. "Come here…shhh, come here."
Kurt buried his head against her chest, his whole torso trembling as he wept in her arms.
Jane kissed his temple softly as she held him close and rubbed his back soothingly.
"She was five years old…she hadn't done anything," Kurt spluttered brokenly.
Jane pulled him closer, hoping she could somehow take away the pain. "I know, Kurt. I know."
As Kurt's breathing evened after a few minutes, Jane pulled back and framed his face, tenderly wiping his tears away.
She gazed at him lovingly. "This wasn't your fault. You did all you could," she repeated her earlier words. "You don't have to try to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Some things we just cannot control."
Kurt sighed deeply, as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I know."
Jane kissed him softly, her fingers tracing his cheek. "Go take that shower and then we'll go to bed."
Kurt nuzzled her cheek, his stubble tickling her. "Okay. I love you."
Jane smiled, enjoying the sensation. "I love you, too."