I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

A/N: As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. :)

"Jane," Kurt called as she headed for the elevator, frowning slightly as she hesitated a moment before reluctantly turning back. He'd been giving a great deal of thought to what she'd said a week ago, about him not trusting her, about her being stuck in the middle with no one to turn to, and he'd been forced to concede that she was right. They had put her in an impossible position, and if they didn't start giving her a reason to feel connected to them again, Sandstorm might well be able to sway her back to their side.

And if that happened, he would have no one to blame but himself.

"We need to talk," he told her when she finally reached his side. She needed a friend, and like it or not, it was time he stepped up. Time he attempted to work through their past differences for the sake of the greater good. "I seem to recall owing you a drink. Are you free tonight?"

Wasn't she every night that Sandstorm didn't require her presence? Jane hesitated, but the thought of going home to her empty safe house was slightly more unappealing. "Sure," she said grudgingly.

In spite of himself, the corners of Kurt's mouth lifted. He didn't think he'd ever had such a reluctant acceptance to his offer to buy a woman a drink. He motioned for her to lead the way to the elevator and stepped back to allow her to precede him inside when it arrived.

They drove in silence to his favorite bar, and by unspoken agreement took a seat in the back where their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "So," Jane said once they had received their drinks, growing uncomfortable with the silence, "you asked me here to talk. What did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know exactly. I . . ." Kurt paused to collect his thoughts. He hadn't really thought this through entirely. "I guess I'm just as tired as you are of fighting this battle between us, as well as Sandstorm. You're right; it's exhausting. And it needs to stop."

Jane smiled humorlessly down at her drink. "Easier said than done. I was tortured, Kurt. For three months. And you may not have handed me over willingly, you may not have wanted that to happen, but you had to know what I was going to face when they . . ." Her voice broke, and she trailed off. "But I guess I deserved it. Mayfair's death—"

"Was not your fault," Kurt interrupted earnestly, understanding for the first time just how much her death had affected Jane, as well as all of them. They were all mourning her. "Sandstorm is responsible for that, Jane, not you. And you absolutely did not deserve to be tortured for a minute for that, or anything else you may or may not have done in the past.

"I'm sorry," he added after a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't prevent them from taking you. I'm sorry I couldn't find a way to get you back. I did try, Jane; I swear to you, I did."

"I believe you, Kurt," Jane said softly. "I just wish you had listened to me at my safe house, before . . ." She clenched her hand into a fist, and was surprised when Kurt reached across the table and covered it with his own, silently offering comfort the only way he knew how at the moment.

"I wish that too," Kurt admitted. "I've wished it every day since. I let my own pain and anger cloud my judgment, and I regret that." He'd sworn to protect her, and he'd failed. Had directed all of that emotion that he could no longer take out on his father on her, in fact. "I can't imagine how terrifying that must have been for you." She'd been yanked away from the only people she knew after losing the first loved one she could remember.

"It was actually worse the night Carter abducted me," Jane commented. "At least this time I knew what I was going to face, and why. I still thought I was an innocent victim back then."

"You were," Kurt said slowly as the truth dawned on him, and repeated it at her incredulous look. "You were an innocent victim. You are. Whoever you were in the past, that's not who you are now. That's not who you have to be. You've made some mistakes, but your heart's always been in the right place, and you have some of the best instincts of anyone I've ever worked with. Trust them now, Jane. They won't lead you wrong."

Jane's smile softened as her eyes met his, and she unclenched her fist beneath his hand, tentatively turning hers over to grasp his, her smile widening when his grip instantly tightened.

"I'm sorry," Kurt continued when she didn't speak. "I'm sorry that I didn't protect you from Carter. He never should have been able to snatch you like that. If I had been thinking clearly . . ." He shook his head. "I should have insisted you come up to the apartment and called your detail to come get you or taken you home myself. Something." Anything. Instead, he had done nothing. And she had paid the price.

"That wasn't your fault," Jane protested. "Any more than Mayfair's death was mine." Though she suspected she would always feel partly responsible for that. She didn't want Kurt to carry such a burden of guilt, though. "It was less than ten blocks to my safe house. You couldn't have known that he would do such a thing."

No. He couldn't have. "And you couldn't have known that Oscar would kill Mayfair," Kurt returned, knowing Jane well enough to recognize the guilt that was still eating at her. "So if I'm going to forgive myself for my mistakes, you need to do the same." He squeezed her hand before releasing it and reaching for his scotch. "How about we make a pact? Let's both do our best to move on from those mistakes, and if ever one of us is struggling, with that or anything else, we'll come talk to the other. Deal?"

Jane felt a genuine smile crease her face for the first time since the night Mayfair had died, and she lifted her glass to his, clinking them together. "You've got a deal."

It was a pact they kept for the rest of their lives.