A/N: As always with my stories, this one has nothing at all to do with the show. Please enjoy!


It was a warm, sunny summer morning the day her marriage dissolved. She sat in the air-conditioned conference room overlooking the Potomac and she kept her eyes on the man sitting across from her. It was her husband's lawyer; they never sat her and Kurt in chairs that directly faced each other during these meetings, for obvious reasons.

Despite the precautions, despite the tiptoeing, despite the media, it had been a rather amicable divorce—that was the adjective people always used, wasn't it? Amicable. That's the phrase his office would be using in the upcoming press release, she knew that for a fact. She'd seen him looking over a draft earlier when they'd been waiting in the lobby. She'd almost laughed. Of course he was working now. Of course he was trying to get out ahead of his own divorce before it had even been finalized.

She could not wait to get out of DC.

She checked her watch. Twenty hours until her flight back to New York. That was too many hours. She should've scheduled a redeye—she'd thought about it—but in the end, she'd been too paranoid about something going wrong today to move her flight up even a few hours. Eight years of being a politician's wife had taught her never to trust any deal, not until it was signed and made public.

And here they were sitting, ready to sign, ready to get it all over with—and waiting on the notary. Ryan, her lawyer, was pissed. He was sitting incredibly still in the seat next to her and she knew he only did that when he got angry. Usually he was pacing, looking through his notes, tapping his pencil. He was always moving, aways working. That was one of the reasons she'd hired him. That, and the fact that he'd had a battle plan for this divorce that was so detailed it rivaled most bona fide war plans.

Kurt was getting antsy, too. She could see him out of the corner of her eye; he kept shifting in his chair and adjusting his tie. He had a lunch meeting with one of his least favorite caucuses in less than an hour; if they dragged this out much longer, he'd be stuck in traffic trying to get back across town. Without thinking, her mind started doing calculations, trying to figure out exactly how much longer he could stand to sit here and wait before she remembered that she didn't have to do that anymore. She didn't have to be on top of his schedule. She didn't have to find five minutes during the day where he was free so they could attempt to act like they still had a marriage. Or, more recently, so they could pass on messages from their lawyers. He had an entire staff to deal with his every problem, including his impending divorce. She only had herself to rely on, and though she knew she could have had her lawyer pass on such missives, she preferred to slog through DC traffic to Kurt's office just to tell him in person.

At least I'm making an effort, see?

She didn't think he'd noticed the implicit message, but then, that was the entire point. He didn't notice much that didn't directly relate to his current term, or his next term, or the campaign on the horizon.

She closed her eyes, feeling a smile grace her lips. It was a revelation, still, each time she remembered she wouldn't have to go through another year of campaigning. Another year traveling all over the state, another year of smiling until her face cramped, another year of standing in the background, another year of coming forward only to introduce him before he spoke, or to receive an obligatory kiss on the cheek, just so, in a way that was scientifically deemed the right amount of romantic and politic.

It wasn't that she'd wanted to be in the spotlight instead. She just hadn't wanted to spend her life in darkness, either. And she absolutely hadn't wanted to play a background character in her own marriage.

It hadn't been so bad, at the beginning. It had been downright exciting, the first year. The switch from New York to DC had been hard, and leaving the FBI had been even harder, but at the time, they'd had a purpose, a dream, something more than simply getting re-elected every two years. Something they had shared. She wasn't sure when things had started to fall apart in earnest, but she knew their marriage had been chipping away for years before she'd even considered ending it. The fact that Kurt had simply nodded and said Sure, honey when she'd first brought up separating had only proved her point. It had taken him a good five minutes to look up from the speech he'd been editing and realize what it was he'd so easily agreed to.

There was a commotion in the hallway outside the conference room, and Jane looked over, peering through the opaque glass to try and see what was happening. All she could see were dark shapes moving, and then—thank God—the door was being pushed open and there was their notary, spilling apologies and sweat.

"So sorry I'm late, everyone. I got caught behind the motorcade and you know how that thing moves…"

He rifled through his briefcase, sorting out what he needed, before taking the stacks of paper from the lawyers. He looked things over quickly—they'd already reviewed the details a hundred times—and then he waved them both forward, pointing to the different copies and the places they would need to sign.

Jane was having trouble listening because of a sudden buzzing in her ears, but helpfully, there were bright yellow tabs indicating exactly where to write. And then, after she'd signed beside every tab, there was Ryan, presenting her with one more form.

"Just here, Jane," he indicated, pointing to a line at the bottom of a sheet.

Scanning the page, she felt her heart leap and her mouth suddenly go dry. She didn't know how she'd forgotten about this, though with all they'd haggled over in the divorce, it made sense that this early decision had fallen to the background.

Jane Doe.

She hadn't seen her name written like that in years. It made her ache in a strange place, somewhere deep in her psyche, a hurt she hadn't realized was there until it was finally being massaged away.

Even now, she didn't know why she'd taken Kurt's name in the first place. She hadn't liked it, not even when she'd been a newlywed. His name had always sounded clunky and awkward tacked onto hers, as if it were created by a high schooler trying out fiction for the first time. It never had the right ring to it. She'd gotten used it, over the years, of course. She had learned to turn her head whenever someone said Mrs. Weller. But it had always felt a little strange, a little fake, as if she were pretending to be someone she wasn't. It had taken her years, but eventually she recognized that feeling for what it was: a need for full independence. She couldn't be defined solely by him anymore—not by his job, not by his name, not by the lack of children she bore him. From now on, she would be defined by herself and only by herself.

Signing the paper to return to her maiden name felt, finally, like she was coming home.

The notary reviewed the documents after they'd finished signing, his stamp and pen at the ready. They all watched as he went about his work, and once he was finished, the aides went around and collected everything that would need to be filed with the court. The lawyers exchanged pleasantries, and then, almost without warning, the three of them and their aides filed out, explaining, We'll give you some time alone now.

Jane opened her mouth to protest—she didn't want time alone, not with him—but then the door was shut behind them, and the lawyers and notary were nothing more than dark figures behind opaque glass, and there she was, alone in a room standing next to her newly minted ex-husband.

She didn't know what was supposed to happen now. She glanced nervously at him and felt the odd impulse to shake his hand, the way school kids did after soccer matches. Good game.

Instead she clasped her hands together, wringing them roughly but subtly, the way she'd learned to do on the campaign trail when she was getting too uncomfortable in front of all the cameras but wasn't allowed to show it. There were no cameras here, thank God. But there was still him, standing there, looking at her. Somehow his gaze now felt worse than all those hundreds of cameras had in the past.

"So," he said after a minute.

She nodded. "So."

He opened his mouth to say more but instead ended up saying nothing. Just for something to do, she walked over to the glass wall over looking the river, watching as the water rushed and swirled so far beneath them.

She could feel him following her, slowly and at a distance. He stopped a few feet back and she was grateful for it.

"Are you going to miss it?" he asked quietly.

She didn't know what he was referring to—the river, the city, their marriage?—and so she simply shrugged. It was as much of an answer as she could manage for any of the three questions.

They stood like that for a few minutes, staring out the window, staring down at all the people and things below. She was not looking forward to going back out into the world. She didn't expect there to be reporters outside—they'd done a good job of keeping things rather clandestine these past few months—but she knew once the story broke, she wouldn't have that luxury. She was anxious in advance, just thinking about the overzealous attention.

At least it will blow over, she thought. At least he's not that important.

Yet.

That was always the caveat, that was always the fear that hung over her: that the pressure might be bad now, but it would always—always—get worse. There was always another race, always another step up on the ladder, always some higher position to aspire to. She was one of the few people who knew he would be running for Senate the year after next, and once he attained that, they all knew what was next. He'd serve on committees and spearhead legislation and be a keynote speaker at the conventions. He would tick all the boxes until, one day, maybe six years from now, maybe ten, she would open the paper to see he'd achieved what everyone who went into politics hoped to achieve. He would have a long speech, a good speech, and there would not be a single perfunctory line in it about how he couldn't have done it without the support of his loving wife.

That made her smile. She was perfectly fine being a bullet point in his personal history, sandwiched in between Congress and the Senate. She had no desire to be a First Lady. She couldn't even handle being a congressman's wife.

"Traffic should have cleared a bit by now," he said finally, breaking the silence. "If you want, I can get you a cab—"

"I can get my own cab, Kurt."

"Right. Of course." He nodded, and she watched his reflection in the window as he turned his head away, down to the floor. She felt a stab of guilt. He was trying to be nice. He was trying to take care of her, while he still could. Just one last time.

"You can walk me down to the lobby," she told him, and then she returned to the conference table to gather her jacket and purse. By the time she got to the door, he was already there, holding it open for her. She stepped through and held her head up as she walked through the hallway, past the receptionist, and into the elevator.

There were few people on the ground floor apart from security staff. They nodded politely as she and Kurt passed, but Jane did not nod back. She was of one mind, and that mind wanted to get outside, get into a cab, and get back to her hotel as soon as possible. Less than twenty hours and she would be out of this city.

But there were no cabs outside. It was summer, and the city was swarming with tourists; cabs didn't bother venturing this far out of the city center when fares were so easy to get if you simply waited down by the National Mall and Pennsylvania Avenue. She was regretting her impulsive interruption of him earlier; he could've gotten a car here in five minutes. In fact, his car was here; Jane could see Harry, Kurt's driver, sitting behind the wheel of the black sedan waiting on the curb.

She could feel him hesitating behind her as they stood out on the sidewalk. He wanted to offer her a ride, but they both knew from earlier how she would respond. She didn't blame him for not wanting to be rejected yet once more today.

But she also couldn't take standing here out in the open for one more second. The building she had just exited was very well-known for being one of the best divorce firms in the district. There wouldn't even be any dots to connect; all someone had to do was get a picture of her standing out here, looking alone and lost, and that was the story.

"Do you mind?" she asked quickly, tilting her head towards the car. "You know I wouldn't ask, but—"

"Of course," he answered, already motioning to Harry.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, even as she hurried to the door the driver was holding open for her. "I just can't wait out there like that, not after…"

"I understand," Kurt told her.

He slid into the seat after her, and for a moment after Harry shut the door behind them, they were alone. Completely alone. She looked over at him and found him staring back at her, seeing her, it felt like, for the first time in a very long time.

"Please believe me when I say I understand, Jane," he whispered. "I really do."

She closed her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. She knew he wasn't talking about the car ride anymore. And she wanted to call him a liar for pretending to understand, but she knew now—she had seen it in his eyes—that he wasn't pretending. He really did understand, after all this time. Right at the end.

Perfect timing, Kurt, she thought sourly to herself, and she had to stare out the tinted window in order to blink back tears.

She blew out a shaky breath when Harry got in and started the car, using the sound of the engine turning over to mask it. For twenty minutes, they drove in silence towards her hotel, listening to the ambient noises outside the car and the quiet classic music Harry always played within.

It wasn't until they were pulling up at the curb to her hotel that Jane realized just how far out of Kurt's way her detour had taken him. He had that lunch meeting in less than a half-hour and he'd never make it on time coming from this direction. But when she tried to tell him, tried to apologize, he waved her away.

"It's fine," he said, and she stared.

He had never said It's fine and meant it in his life.

"What is going on?" she demanded.

He sighed, turning to look out the window. And then, having made up his mind, he faced forward again.

"Harry?" he asked. "Can you give us a second, please?"

Dutifully, the driver stepped out, shut the door, and waited by the hood of the car. They both watched him, waiting until they knew he was far enough away so he wouldn't be able to hear.

"What are you doing?" Jane hissed. "You never miss meetings. Especially not bipartisan ones. You need to go, you need to hurry—"

"I'm not going, Jane."

"Not going? Are you insane? You can't miss—"

"I'm not missing anything," he interrupted quietly. "I asked Carl to go in my place." At the incredulous look on her face, he explained with a sigh, "When I scheduled it, I thought it would be a good distraction after our appointment, but now…" He shook his head. "If you must know, Jane, I cleared my schedule for today. And tomorrow."

"Oh."

She couldn't think of anything to say. She couldn't think of one day in their entire marriage that he'd ever cleared his schedule for anything personal.

"Why?" she couldn't help but wonder, dumbfounded to the point of blunt.

"Why?" he laughed without humor. "Have you already forgotten what happened this morning? We sign papers and you're already onto the next thing?"

"No," she muttered stubbornly, even though it was true, all she could think about was her flight tomorrow morning. "I'm just surprised, is all," she explained. "You never take personal days for anything. I've seen you go in to vote when you have the flu."

"Well, I thought the end of my marriage was a good excuse to take a personal day or two. But maybe cable news is right. Maybe I really am being too sensitive."

She tried to stifle a smile at his flippant response, but couldn't quite manage it. It was little things like this that reminded her why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place, and why, sometimes, she felt that she still loved him. There was always a little part of him that no one else got to see except her. But she had cherished that unique little part of him for too long, steadfastly ignoring how quickly it was shrinking and being taken over by the rest day by day.

"I should go," she said finally. "Leave you to your day."

"Leave me to sit alone at home and stare at the walls, you mean."

"I'm pretty sure I'll be doing the exact same thing in my hotel room, so there's no use fighting over who's more pathetic today, congressman."

They shared a brief smile. Then she reached out for his shoulder, squeezed it tight, and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. He smelled good. She recognized the cologne he wore—very sparing amounts, something you could only smell when you were this close to him—and she breathed him in again. She could feel his hand, now resting atop hers on his shoulder. She knew she should move back, should break their contact, should open the door and walk away, but sitting here next to him was so much easier. No one could see them in here. No one could judge them or take pictures or write articles.

She closed her eyes when she felt his other hand move to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair. She swallowed hard, knowing she had to do something, had to say something, had to stop this before it started.

"Kurt."

It was all she could get out. His thumb was behind her ear now, brushing ever so gently against the smooth skin there, just the way she liked. She didn't open her eyes but she could hear him, feel him, sense him shifting towards her. She could feel his forehead press against hers, then his nose. She could taste his breath, warming her chin.

"Jane…"

Her heart was pounding in her chest so fiercely that she knew he must be able to feel it. It was all she could hear in her ears. It was the only sound in the world apart from his voice and her own.

"Kurt, please…" She swallowed hard, forcing calm on her twisting stomach, on her frantically beating heart, if only for a second. Just one second, so she could do this with a clear head. She touched his cheek, the same place where she'd kissed him, and met his eyes. She could feel his fingers tighten—around hers on his shoulder, and in her hair—and she wanted to tell him to let go, even as she relished the strength with which he held her. Where had this side of him been all their marriage?

"We can't do this here," she whispered.

And he, ever the gentleman, always concerned about being seen doing the right things in the right places, asked, "Why not?"

She shut her eyes. She didn't have an answer. She couldn't think of an answer.

All she could feel was her heart hammering in her chest, and his hand in her hair, and his breath so close that they might as well be kissing. She wished he would kiss her. She pressed her forehead hard against his, furious and desperate all at once. She wanted him to stop this so badly, and just as badly she wanted him to start it, if only so she could blame him later.

He refused to do either. He sat there and he waited and eventually she gave in, like she'd been giving in for eight years.

"I know you're busy," she whispered, touching his lips with her fingertips, "but I think I left something at home."

"Did you?" His lips moved against her fingers as if kissing them. It took all of her willpower not to crawl into his lap. "Is it important, dear?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter at the endearment, hating and loving him for using it. He was playing all the right cards and it infuriated her that he was only now making an effort, after things were already finished between them. When his tongue slid out to swirl around and suck on one of her fingers, her breath caught in her chest and she almost moaned out loud.

"Yes," she breathed instead, trying to keep her head about her, "yes, it's very important. It can't wait."

"So you need a ride back?"

She opened her eyes, found his. "Yes. I need a ride back."

Just this once.


A/N: Thank you for reading! Just a quick little PSA to let you all know that this story will not be J/K-centric. That said, there will, of course, be one more chapter that focuses heavily on them. ;) After that, we're on to other horizons as the summary says…

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had a ton of fun coming up with this AU, and I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts! :) Thank you for reading!