A/N: I wanted to get this up before this week's episode aired but was a little bit too busy. I'm yet to watch episode 4 but hopefully this kind of scene won't be in it. Apologies for any inaccuracies too. It doesn't really feel like there's too much canon to go from yet.
She's still trying to process it, no longer being a Jane Doe, that is. He can see it in her wide eyes and the lines of her brow that appear to be deepening with every passing second. His lips quiver almost as violently as the hand gripping his arm trembles.
"Hey, you okay?" Kurt asks, unable to help the smallest of smiles curling his lips.
"I-I'm her? I'm Taylor?"
Patterson nods, beaming at Jane.
"We're finally solving the mystery," the analyst exclaims, obvious pride shining in her eyes.
"I don't- I didn't think-"
"You wanna get a coffee? You seem like you could use one."
A shaky exhale and a nod follow his question. It feels natural to wrap his arm around her shoulders, bolster her until they can get out of HQ and into the fresh air. Truth is, after twenty five years, hugging his childhood friend could never have been put off for long no matter how much he feels the stares of the rest of the division.
Neither of them speak. Not in the lift, not in the echoing foyer, or even in the carpark; not until they reach either side of his agency appointed black SUV and slide into its front seats.
"How do you take your coffee?"
Jane shrugs. After almost a month always referring to her as Jane, despite knowing and having felt in his gut for two of those weeks that their mysterious, unidentified victim was Taylor, Kurt's having a hard time thinking of her as someone other than Jane Doe.
"Dr Borden only gave me the one cup."
Kurt nods. He should have thought of that.
"Well, you always liked hot cocoa when we were younger. Maybe we could grab a cup of that each." He shrugs, unsure what her reaction to his suggestion will be, and can only flick glances at her surprised face while he navigates them away from FBI headquarters.
"That would be…nice," she manages eventually, shy and uncertain.
"Two hot cocoa's – with mountains of whipped cream-"
"-Mountains?"
"Oh yeah," Kurt replies, maintaining a straight face, "Cocoa without that much cream is a crime, a crime against taste buds." Only when Ja-Taylor chuckles does he allow himself a smile.
"I didn't know you could be such a joker." In his silent response, she adds, "I guess there's a lot I don't know about you now."
When they reach the nearest coffee shop – one Kurt doesn't frequent very often, not when he tries to maintain a lack of routine – he sends Jane over to a table and queues to place their order by himself. Ingrained in him since his childhood, forgetting about his chivalry and protective instincts is almost impossible, whether it's making sure his sister or friends sit down or keeping them from storming into a gunfight at his side.
The young barista snaps a smile at him, adjusting his thick-framed square glasses before grabbing a pad of paper. Hipster, Kurt thinks, instinctively categorising him without even reading his name-badge.
"What can I get you?" the guy asks, preppy too.
"Two hot cocoas to drink in. Cream and sprinkles too, please."
"You sure?"
Kurt doesn't have to be a special agent to realise that the barista has misjudged him, assuming his tough, gruff exterior means that he's just as macho with his drinking preferences. Used to such profiling though, he simply nods.
"Coming right up then," 'Jay' replies, telling him to take a seat and wait for someone to bring over his order.
Though she's looking out the window, Jane doesn't startle when he scoots into the seat opposite her. She only looks sad when she turns to him.
"How you doing?"
"I'm- I thought I'd be overjoyed when you found out who I was, but – now you have – I just have more questions."
"Well, I'm no shrink, but I guess that's natural. If you have questions, shoot."
"What was I like?"
Kurt takes a sip of his cocoa, buying himself time to collect his thoughts since Jane wasted no time in getting started. "You were clever, did well at school and never had to be told to start your homework. You read better than half the kids on the block."
"So I was a geek?" she asks, interrupting.
"No," he replies, taking another sip and this time failing to execute the movement with enough finesse. Still the flick of whipped cream stuck to the tip of his nose makes Taylor smirk. "Do you wanna know how we met?"
"Sure."
"You and your mom had just moved to the neighbourhood. She was busy unpacking boxes and my dad sent me and my sister round with a plate of cookies, wanted us to welcome you to the area." All it takes is a slight pause for him to picture it again, the house and the little stone step in front of the door where little Taylor Shaw sat sulking. "You didn't want to move, hated the new house, even though it had a swing in the back yard. You told us, Sarah and me, that very day. You were still pouting the next morning when your mom pushed you out the front door and told you to play with the rest of the kids. Even though we were older, bigger, you weren't scared to follow us out to the big oak at the end of the street. You climbed higher than almost half the group. So you definitely weren't a geek. You were adventurous, that was why you liked reading so much."
"Did I climb higher than you?"
"Come on, higher than me? I was the best tree climber in all of Pennsylvania State. Never once fell, unlike some other people I knew." He looks pointedly back at her.
Jane rolls her eyes, one of her hands unconsciously reaching to her neck to rub at the smooth scar tissue Kurt had pointed out to her earlier that evening.
"I wish I could remember," she mutters before her eyes flick to the wooden table top, searching for dirt and imperfections that just aren't there. It's easy enough to tell from her body language that she hadn't meant to reveal the depth of her desire to get her memories back. Her embarrassment at the slip hasn't turned her cheeks or ears pink but she won't look at him anymore.
"You know, I was doing some research and they say that sometimes if you hear something enough you can make your own memory of the event. Like how my dad used to tell me about my first football game. I was three so I don't really remember it, but he talked about it so often, I can picture some of it." He waits her out but there seems to be no outward sign she really listened to him. "Your fifth birthday, we went to the movie theatre to see The Little Mermaid. For a month it was all you wanted to talk about. You wanted to be a mermaid and any time we went to the pool or the lake, you would pretend you were Ariel or one of her sisters. You and Sarah were inseparable that winter, both became pretty good swimmers too."
Opposite him, Jane is still silent, still staring into the mound of almost untouched whipped cream atop her hot cocoa.
What other stories does he have? Kurt knows that there must be hundreds – thousands of moments, each of them tiny occurrences from seeing Taylor every day until one day she just wasn't there anymore.
"One time during summer vacation, I wanted to go camping. I argued with my dad for weeks, begging him to let me go but he kept saying no, telling me ten was too young. In the end, we compromised. I got his old tent to pitch in the back yard for a couple of nights. Fifteen minutes into the first night, I was bored, already wanted to jack in the whole idea and sleep indoors, probably would have too, if it wasn't for you." He catches the faint look of interest in Jane's eyes as he pauses and smiles even if she isn't looking at him. "I wish you could remember. You came out of your house in pink plaid pyjamas and fluffy slippers – rabbits I think they were meant to be. By the time you got to the tent your feet were covered in so many blades of wet grass, you could barely tell there were any slippers underneath."
"I said, 'Taylor, what are you doing out here? You should be in bed.' Did you listen? Of course not, you just ducked into the tent and sat right opposite me. 'I brought marshmallows,' you said. You were pretty pleased with yourself, you know, even though I had no fire to toast them over or make smores with."
"Smores?"
"I'll make you some sometime," Kurt promises. "We could have hard marshmallows on the cocoa though. You want some?"
He already has his hand in the air to wave over Jay when Jane tells him, "No, this is fine."
"You still like hot cocoa then?"
"I think I prefer coffee now," Jane confesses. "But it's nice, warms you up." The cream is almost gone from her cup now, either eaten or melted into the chocolate drink beneath. Unlike him though, she hasn't spent most of the last ten minutes talking; she's been able to keep sipping away at her mug.
"Anything else you wanna ask?"
"You were a good friend, weren't you?" she asks as they return to his car.
"I may be five years older but I was your best friend, Jane. I was whatever you wanted me to be, whether that was someone to help with your homework, another adventurer or a big brother to protect you – not that you needed the help even then. You took care of school bullies all by yourself."
"Taylor, you can call me Taylor," she reminds him, buckling up in the passenger seat.
"You're sure? I can call you Jane if you're more comfortable with that name now."
She shakes her head. "Jane was a placeholder. I might not remember being Taylor Shaw yet but it's who I am."
"Okay then, let's get you home for the night, Taylor," Kurt replies, looking at her for a moment before turning on the ignition and backing out of his parking space.
A/N: Any thoughts on this? As it's my first Blindspot fanfic, I'm not 100% with the characters yet so I'd appreciate any comments on whether everyone was in character especially.