A/N-This is a 2-shot. I was hoping to post both parts before the new episode, but I'm clearly not going to make it. This picks up at the end of 2x20 and can stand on its own. The rating is for Chapter 2.

I don't own these characters, but I do enjoy playing with other people's toys.

Chapter 1

Kurt had decided to return to work. His apartment was too quiet and empty for him at the time. The silence made his doubts and worries so much clearer. The noise of his office didn't seem to help much. Seemingly out of the blue, Sarah called, and although they only spoke for a few minutes, it was long enough to allow a realization to dawn. He grabbed his phone and called Jane, listening disappointedly when her voicemail picked up. He left a quick message, telling her that they needed to talk and he didn't care how late it was when she called.

He'd sort of expected her to answer or call back, and he couldn't help but continue to allow his eyes to fall on his cell phone screen to await her response. Finally, he decided to swing by the safehouse, remembering other times when he'd left a message and should have been more concerned by the fact that she didn't answer.

As he raised his hand to knock, something seemed strange. One of the blinds was knocked down, and he immediately wondered what sort of altercation could cause that to occur. His cell phone rang and he saw Zapata's name and quietly answered. "We may have a situation over at Jane's."

"Yea, well, I couldn't sleep and I came in to use the gym and I saw Roman. He had his detail bring him back to his cell," Zapata answered.

"What? Why?"

"I'm not sure, but he's pretty banged up."

"Jane wasn't with him?" Weller asked, his worry clear in his tone.

"Nope. You want me to talk to him? See what happened?"

"Yea. Something's not right here. I need to get inside."

"You want backup?" Zapata offered.

"No. You keep an eye on Roman. I'll find Jane."

Kurt quietly tested the knob and found the door unlocked. Unholstering his gun, he peered through the slivered opening of the door, and his concern flared at what he saw. The safehouse was in ruin, lamps and tables overturned or broken. Splotches of blood scattered across the floor made him enter more hurriedly, and then he saw Jane standing by the sink.

Her clothes were stained with various shades from sweat and blood. She almost immediately noticed the intrusion and turned. The moment she saw Kurt, her forehead wrinkled with sadness. "I'm so sorry, Kurt," she mournfully replied. "I couldn't do it."

"Do what?" he asked, scanning the surroundings in case someone else was still lurking.

"Roman. H-he found out that I erased his memory. We fought. I had my gun on him, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't shoot my brother."

"Anyone else here?" Kurt asked.

"No."

He locked the door and holstered his gun. "Are you alright?"

"I need to find him," she responded, avoiding the question. "He's upset. Angry."

"He went back to his cell under his own power," Kurt explained.

"He did?" Jane asked with a combination of confusion and relief.

"Yea. Looks like he didn't take the news too well," Kurt stated calmly as he scanned the room while approaching her. He saw she was applying pressure to her hand and blood had soaked through the towels. "Let's go to the office. I'll take you to see the medic and they can stitch that up."

"It's okay," she replied distantly.

He began to fold another towel to replace the soaked ones she held and answered, "It's not okay. You're not okay."

"Of course I'm not okay," she countered loudly, a revealing quiver in her voice. "I've ruined everything. The harder I try, the worse I make it. I just wanted him to have the same chance I had. I wanted to be able to see him. And since I won't go back to Sandstorm…"

"I know," Kurt answered quietly. "You wanted to give him a second chance. You wanted to have your brother in your life, give him the opportunity to redeem himself. Jane…I never should have expected you to choose between me and your brother."

"Kurt—"

"No, please. Let me finish. Emma…was like family. She was the only one who really understood how I felt. About Taylor. About the loneliness. About my father. Her death…it was like losing a mother and a friend. I am angry that Roman killed her. That hasn't changed. And I am really hurt that you didn't tell me the truth. But you were put in an impossible situation. You should never have to choose between someone you work with and your own brother. Especially when you've already lost so much."

"You aren't just someone I work with," she argued. "I can't tell you how many times I wanted to tell you what happened. But I knew that it would hurt both of you. I didn't want to hurt you, ever! You and Roman…you're the two people I'm closest to. The people I care about the most. It doesn't excuse it. And I accept that I'll never have your trust again—"

"Sarah called," he interrupted. "I know what family means. How important it is. It was hard for me to think about that because I was so angry about Emma."

"I know. I know how important she was to you."

"It's more than that," he said, his tear-rimmed eyes staring into hers. "What I said during the polygraph…about you tearing down my walls…I was serious. It means that I feel things…really feel things…in a way that I haven't for a long time, maybe ever. I do feel betrayed. I wish you could have trusted me. But I get why you didn't. And Roman…I don't know what I'm going to do about him. But when it comes to you…well, I'm not willing to let you go. To give up on you."

"You have no idea just how much you mean to me. I am so sorry. I don't even know how to express just how sorry I am."

"Me too," he replied. "Jane, I…" he started, his jaw clenching and brows furrowing as he struggled with his thoughts. "I've kept myself boarded up since…well since Taylor disappeared. I don't think I really felt much of anything all those years, apart from anger, the drive for justice. With you it's just…I feel again. And a lot of it hurts—"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted.

"You don't understand. I'm thanking you, Jane. Because, yea, some of it hurts…but it hasn't been all bad. I'm alive in a way I didn't think I could be anymore. And I meant it when I said that one of my favorite things about you is the way you try to see the best in everyone. That's what you did with your brother. I guess there are good and bad things about that. Since I wouldn't ever want you to change that about yourself, I have to accept everything that comes with it. God, your hand," he suddenly said. "We need to get that stitched."

"I can do it," she said, looking down at her wound.

"Come on," he insisted. "We should talk later. I'll drive you."

He placed the fresh towel over her wound and tied it securely with the long sleeve of a shirt she'd discarded on the floor earlier. His fingers gently stroked hers where they jutted out from the makeshift bandage. The tiny touch was comforting and tender, and he pressed his opened hand against her back and encouraged her toward the door.

Kurt wanted to check on Roman while Jane visited the medic. It terrified her that the two men were meeting, and she already feared the fallout. Noticing her distractedness, the doctor asked, "Are you experiencing any lightheadedness or nausea? You've probably lost a lot of blood."

"No," she answered quietly. "I was just thinking."

Jane bobbed her head in gratitude as an assistant brought her a drink, and waited as patiently as she could. But the moment the doctor was finished, Jane grabbed her jacket and rushed to Roman's cell. She heard Kurt and Roman talking as they faced each other through the glass. As she approached without the men noticing, she could hear Kurt say, "…but I'm not sure if I can ever forgive you for what you did to Emma."

"I know, and I am sorry," Roman quietly answered. "I'm really not sure if I can ever forgive Jane for what she did to me."

Weller folded his arms and shook his head, "Do you have any idea what would have happened to you if she wouldn't have done what she did? Chances are really good that you'd be dead or locked up in some hole a hell of a lot worse than this. She tried to give you another chance. Not just a better cell, but a better life. She tried to give you a chance at redemption! Face it, the Roman who existed before ZIP…was the kind of man who could kill a woman like Emma Shaw, a woman who tried so damn hard to do what was right, and she was put through a hell that no one should ever have to live through. Is that really who you want to be? Or do you want to be a man who tries to make the world just a little safer, takes criminals off the streets and protects people like Emma Shaw instead of killing them?"

"I don't…I don't know who I am or what I want anymore," Roman replied. "It seems kind of hypocritical. You want me to forgive what she did to me, but I doubt you're ever going to forgive her for lying to you about it."

"You're wrong," Weller firmly answered. "Because I already have forgiven her. I don't like how she chose to handle it, I really don't. But she was trying to do the right thing. With you. With me. She was trying to protect us both. Your sister did what she did to you out of love. No matter what you've done, all she sees when she looks at you is her little brother."

"She stole my memories," Roman argued more weakly.

"Yea. She did. I was trying to figure out what I'd do, in her position, and it's not so black-and-white. And it's hard to say it was the wrong thing…because when you found out what happened, you didn't go running back to Shepherd or Sandstorm. You chose to come back here. To return to your cell instead of trying to kill her or me or anyone else. That was the right thing to do, and you chose to do that when it would have been so easy to go back to your old ways. At least it's a glimmer of hope…that maybe you really have changed."

Jane stepped closer and Roman immediately saw her, his eyes focusing on his sister as Kurt glanced over his shoulder and saw her before he shyly looked back down at the ground. She began, "Roman, I am sorry, but—"

"You're the one person who I really trusted," Roman said, his expression more sad than angry.

"I know. But I hope we can get past this. I hope you can forgive me, some day."

"I need time," Roman said.

"Alright," Jane acquiesced. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

Roman thought for a moment, pursing his lips as he pondered, and then he nodded, "Yea. Come back tomorrow."

Kurt carefully directed Jane toward the door before he came back to Roman's cell and stared him down, "One more thing. Don't hurt your sister again. That's the wrong way to get on my good side. You go after her with a knife or anything else…you'll regret it."

Jane heard his quick stride as Kurt hurried to catch up while she waited for the elevator. As they stepped on, she asked, "Did you mean that?"

"Mean what?" he asked, directing all of his attention to her.

"Everything you said back there. And…that you've already forgiven me?"

He nodded quickly, "I'm still hurt. But you were put in an impossible situation. I know you were trying to do the right thing. I just…I hope someday you will trust me…really trust me."

"I do," she ardently replied, "more than anyone. I'm so sorry I've hurt you. I hate the pain I saw in your eyes. The pain I caused."

"Hey," he said, waiting until she finally looked up at him to continue, "You didn't kill Emma. I was so shocked and it hurt so bad, but you didn't kill her."

"But I've done some horrible things."

"I don't mean to sound insensitive, but I don't care. I don't care about the bad things that Remi did…that's not you. But I care a hell of a lot about Jane, and the great things that she has done. And let's not forget that I've made a mistake before…or maybe two…" he teased.

She nervously chuckled, feeling both relieved and overwhelmed, but then both of those feelings were superseded by intense surprise and a jolt of electricity that she wasn't prepared for as his warm palm covered her cool cheek, his thumb carefully brushing for a moment before he brought their lips together. He stopped after that fleeting kiss and whispered, "I should have learned my lesson by now."

"What's that?" she asked just as the elevator dinged when it reached the requested floor.

"That we should find places to kiss where we won't be interrupted."

She chuckled, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "You're right. We probably should have that figured out by now."

"I'll run you home," he offered.

They got in his SUV, both emotionally and physically exhausted from recent events, and she watched him as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car. He turned when he felt her eyes on him and asked, "What?"

She responded wordlessly, leaning across the center console and kissing him passionately but only for a minute before she said, "Thank you…thank you for trying to understand. For being so…great."

"Thank you, Jane," he said with plunging sincerity, the millions of things he was thanking her for left unsaid but understood.

"We should probably go. This seems like another situation where we might be interrupted."

"Yea," he nodded. Popping his vehicle into gear, he added, "Let's go."

He wondered why the safehouse looked lonelier from the outside now that Roman was gone. It didn't make sense, but the place didn't have the warmer feeling it had begun to have since the Roman started staying with her. Weller followed her to the door, and although she hadn't verbally invited him, he seemed to be welcome.

He stood in the doorway, surveilling the damage as he watched her hurriedly try to straighten a mess that wouldn't be so easily eradicated. "Do you have anything to drink?" he asked.

"Oh, yea, sorry," she said as she shoved the bloodied towels she'd left behind earlier into the trash.

"You know, you can clean this up tomorrow. I'll come over. Give you a hand."

She poured them both bourbons, since it was all that she had that seemed strong enough, and handed him one before she tossed back her own drink. "This isn't your mess to clean up," she said. "I think this is what they mean by 'making your bed and lying in it'. Don't worry about it."

For some reason he felt compelled to make a slightly inappropriate comment about helping her with her bed, but refrained at the last moment. "You'd help me if the situations were reversed," he noted, sipping his drink.

She stretched and he found his eyes skating over her shape and thought it probably wasn't the best time to be thinking the thoughts that he was thinking. "I better go," he said, clearing his throat.

"Oh!" she said, stunned by the sudden suggestion of his departure. "Now?"

"Yea," he said with certainty. Leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek, he whispered, "I'll see you tomorrow."

As much as his sudden exit had surprised her, she was too tired to give it much thought, or to clean up. She collapsed on her bed, still dressed and without ever pulling down the covers to slip under the sheets.

She woke hours later, feeling somewhat annoyed by the layer of dirt, sweat and blood that still coated her. She sighed at the fact that waking in such a state wasn't all that abnormal for her. She stood in the shower for as long as she could, letting the hot water beat down on her body and wash away the grime of the night before.

Only a moment after she pulled on her workout pants and tank top, she heard a tapping at her door. The sound was distinctive, not the sound of a fist or open hand, but the sound of someone hitting an object against the door. When she peered through the peephole, she saw Kurt standing outside even though the sun was barely up.

She opened the door to face his grin and he immediately handed her a paper bag and cup carrier with two tall cups of coffee before he propped a step ladder against the wall inside her door. "Morning!" he enthusiastically said before he lifted a finger to tell her to wait a minute and ran back down to his SUV. Occasionally glancing back at her to make sure she was still there, he grabbed a tool box, and a few nested buckets before he jogged up her stairs.

"Morning," she finally replied as she watched him sneak past her and put his things down in the living room. "You weren't kidding about giving me a hand, huh?"

"I never kid," he said, standing tall and speaking in his most somber FBI-approved tone. Then he smirked as she locked the door and placed the things he'd handed her on the counter. "First, fuel," he directed, opening the paper bag and offering her first pick of a variety of breakfast treats. He popped the top off of the coffees and fanned them as if he could sufficiently cool them with the gesture.

He took a big bite of a pastry before opening his tool box and shoving a couple of screwdrivers in the back pocket of his jeans. Setting up the ladder in front of the window, he quickly climbed it and used the screwdrivers to reattach the blind. As he worked, he mused, "You know, there is one thing about this that kinda puts a smile on my face."

"What's that?" Jane wondered.

"If this was the way you and your brother fought when you were kids…Shepherd must've had her hands full with you two. I kinda like that you probably drove her crazy." After a second, he turned toward her and asked, "You okay? You're quiet."

She nodded slowly, "You're really intense before 8AM."

He chuckled, hopping down off the ladder. "Maybe I like fixing things," he suggested half-heartedly.

"Maybe."

"Or maybe…" he said pensively, walking slowly closer, "I'm glad I'm here because I wanted to see you."

She nodded, a little smirk playing at her lips, "You did?"

"It's possible. I also thought…maybe…this was a place where I could kiss you without being disturbed."

"Pretty presumptuous of you, Assistant Director Weller."

"Which part? The part about kissing you or the part about not being disturbed?"

She quickly stepped forward, placing one hand on his shoulder while the other still grasped her coffee, and she placed a fleeting kiss against his lips before she backed away. "The part about being disturbed, obviously," she playfully countered.

He nodded, taking her cup from her hand and putting it on the counter. Stepping even closer to her, he planted his feet on either side of hers so their bodies were very nearly touching. He placed both hands on her waist, sliding them down to her hips before he encircled her back. "Better not waste time then," he replied, before he reinitiated the kiss.

It was different from all of their previous kisses, hungrier, deeper, and far more passionate. His tongue entwined with hers, full of a tenderness that somehow wasn't destroyed by the underlying desire. He couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands, as if he wanted to touch her everywhere at once and couldn't settle on one particular location. At one moment he was cradling the back of her neck, the next her upper back, lower back, sides and arms. She was getting swallowed up in this torrential expression, her own hands grasping at him with as much indecision.

She didn't realize he had lifted her from the ground in his arms until he carefully made sure she had her footing. As he put an inch or two of space between them, she felt so much colder. His forehead pressed to hers, he seemed quite stunned at the intensity of their connection, and she found it endearing. She whispered, "I guess that's what it's like, kissing you when we aren't disturbed."

"Guess so."

"I definitely like that better."

"Me too," he smirked, tilting his mouth toward hers again.

She nearly screamed when she heard a loud knocking at her door. "You have got to be kidding me."

"We're going to have to find a cave high in the mountains or something so we can get a minute alone. Who would be here this early?" he questioned. She raised her eyebrow and stared at him, waiting for him to understand. "Right," he admitted, "I was here this early. Actually, earlier. Point taken."

The knocking intensified and they heard Zapata yell, "Jane? Is everything okay?"

"I'd say 'ignore it,'" Weller suggested, "but I think we both know she'll bust down the door if she thinks you're in trouble."

Jane chuckled as she walked to the door, opening it to find not only Zapata, but Patterson and Reade as well, all dressed in casual clothes. "What are you all doing here?" Jane asked.

"Kurt said he was going to come over this morning to help you clean up after everything that happened last night. We wanted to help," Zapata answered.

"We're family," Patterson added, obviously studying Jane to see how she was holding up after the fight with Roman. "We take care of each other."

Jane stepped back and they all came inside, chatting and failing to notice the shy, amused yet mildly frustrated looks Jane and Kurt shared across the room.

"Right. Let's get this done," Kurt announced loudly.