Here is another fanfic to apologize for.

I really am very sorry. It seems there is some pathological condition that I am suffering from (or I am enjoying, but am making you suffer through) and there is no known cure. I should be finishing up the last two chapters for my other, unfinished fic. As you can see, "should" and "are" are two different things today.

This is a (not-so-distant) future fic and it is likely that the cupcakes are OOC. Sorry, not sorry.

Also, I own nothing. This is just for fun. Please do not sue.

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Kurt Weller was grateful to be back in New York City after a week away. Returning to Pennsylvania for Bill Weller's funeral left him empty, cold, and so damn tired. He took some comfort from the fact that he managed to reconcile with the man in the weeks before his death – only after Sarah meddled and Jane made him think about stubbornness, forgiveness, and how the mistakes that people make shouldn't necessarily define them.

Jane. He was going to have to mend some fences there. From the moment Sarah called to tell him that their dad was dead, Kurt shut Jane out. He'd pushed everyone away, but it affected Jane the most. Now that he was back, he knew he needed to find a way to apologize for…well…everything. There were the things he hadn't said but wanted to, and the things he had said and wished – desperately – that he could take back. Worst of all, there was the way he'd put physical distance between them because he knew that if she touched him, even something as simple as a comforting hand on his shoulder, he would break down, and he'd never find a way to put himself back together.

She deserved to hear that he was sorry for all of it. None of it was her fault, but she'd been an easy target.

It was already after seven. There was no real point in going into the office now – he would reconnect with the team tomorrow. He wanted to fall into bed and let sleep shield him from the thoughts that whirled around and around in his brain. If the past week had taught him anything though, it was that the night would last an eternity. He'd get no real rest unless he cleared the air with Jane. Still, he dawdled – taking much longer than necessary in the shower, unpacking his bags, and starting a load of laundry. He'd almost convinced himself to wait until the load was ready to be moved to the dryer before he made his way to the safe house, but he needed to man up and get it over with.

The drive to Jane's place took no time at all.

Agents were stationed outside Jane's door, so Kurt knew that she was home. It was a shock to see Zapata open the door when he knocked. She was on her phone and looked irritated. She waved him in, but continued her conversation. "Yeah, well, your memory sucks." she snapped. She tapped Weller on the shoulder and pointed at Jane's bedroom. "Go ahead. Tell me all the things on the list that you left behind," she dared. After a pause she added, "I could, but you don't deserve to have things made that easy for you."

Kurt hoped that whatever he found in the bedroom would clear up the sudden swamp of confusion he was wading through. The door was open a crack. He guessed that, based on the dim glow coming from the room, that a single lamp set on its lowest setting lit the space. He could hear music playing quietly and the murmur of Jane's voice. He pushed the door open and froze at the sight that greeted him.

There was Jane. She stood with her back to the door, swaying slowly to Nat "King" Cole singing "Unforgettable." The sight of her warmed the cold places that had frozen over the moment he'd learned of his father's death.

The real punch to the gut was the sight of her holding a baby. With the door open, he could hear her words clearly, despite how quietly she spoke. "I know, little man." She commiserated with the child, who whimpered a little. "You have woe." She placed a soft kiss on the baby's dark hair before resting her cheek on the top of his head for a long moment. "Such woe. It's rough." She moved her feet in a slow box step to the music. "You are being stubborn, though," she told him kindly. "You know you're tired. Why not try closing your eyes, hmmm?" She shifted just enough for Kurt to see that she was rubbing gentle circles on the boy's back. "You can lean against me." Her voice was soft and reassuring. "Just lay your head down and close your eyes," she crooned. A chubby hand came up as the kid rubbed at his left eye before he popped two fingers into his mouth and started sucking. "It's okay, big guy." Jane was saying. "I got you, and it's time to rest now."

Kurt fought against the wave of affection washing over him at the sight of her, afraid that he would drown in the warmth. He tried to ignore the thought that was shouting at him – that he would sell his soul to trade places with the baby in her arms. If Jane was telling him to lean against her, to close his eyes, to rest, he'd do it. He was aching with exhaustion, and Jane – as far across the room as she was from him – was soothing hurts that he'd been ignoring all week.

"Jane."

He hadn't meant to say her name, but it came out low and gentle. She immediately stiffened and spun to face him, the surprise on her face melting into a delighted smile. That didn't last, though. Clearly, she hadn't forgotten their last conversation. His shoulders slumped as wariness shuttered her eyes and tightened her jaw.

She noticed the defeat in his stance and immediately softened. In that funny swaying gait that he remembered Sarah using to soothe Sawyer when he was an infant, Jane made her way over to him. Was that something that women learned in some secret back room, or was it all instinct?

When she was less than an arm's length away, Jane stopped and studied him. She took in his tired posture, the downturned lips, and the dark smudges under his eyes. The wariness was replaced by sadness, now, and it made Kurt's stomach hurt, knowing that he was the cause of her dismay.

Jane shook her head at him. "Kurt," she sighed. "Sit down." She jerked her head towards the bed, and he obeyed.

Once he had settled gingerly on the edge of the mattress, she started talking again. "You may as well get comfortable." She sounded stern.

He looked at his feet, then glanced at the bed, and caught a glimpse of Jane rolling her eyes. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with Zapata.

"It's fine. Take your shoes off, leave them on, it's fine. Just…be comfortable."

Easier said than done, at this particular moment, but he tried to accommodate her request. He toed off his shoes and soon he was reclined on her bed. While he was settling in, Jane turned off the music coming from her phone. She still rocked the child in her arms, but the kid was three quarters of the way asleep. She could probably put him down in the pack-n-play that was tucked between her bed and the window.

"One of my tattoos led us to an adoption agency." Jane was saying. "There was a nursery with five kids between 3 months and two years. We probably wouldn't have found anything – not without a warrant, anyway – except one of the employees panicked and tried to escape with this one." She patted the baby's back gently.

"Why him?" Kurt asked the obvious question. He felt immeasurably soothed by focusing on a case rather than everything that felt wrong between him and Jane. He would bet his pension that Jane knew it, too. That, rather than holding their shouting match against him; she was doing what she could to help settle him.

"That's what we're trying to figure out. Because that employee tried to run, we were able to argue for a warrant. Patterson's team is reviewing all the files. The other four kids had a rich paper trail. It was pretty easy to determine where they had come from and where they were going to, but him." Again, Jane softly patted the now slumbering child. "There wasn't anything on him."

"Where are the others now?" Kurt found himself sinking a bit further down, until his head was resting on Jane's pillow. He was breathing in slowly, slowly, savoring how the scent of Jane embraced him.

"The others are in emergency foster care." Now Jane walked deliberately to the pack-n-play and leaned over to settle the baby into his makeshift bed. She straightened up and sat next to Kurt. She was still talking as she reached out to hold his hand. "We had all the kids checked out at St. Paul's, and that's when someone tried to abduct our boy again. She was impersonating a nurse, but when Reade went to stop her, to find out where she was going to take him, she pulled a gun and started shooting."

"So, you decided it was better if the kid came to stay with you." Weller concluded. He absently ran his thumb over the knuckles on Jane's hand. His eyes were at half-mast, though he tried to keep them open. At least all those whirling thoughts had quieted down. "I missed you, Jane."

"You're an idiot, Weller." Jane complained softly. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead, taking the sting out of her accusation. "You didn't have to miss me," Jane said as she straightened up.

Kurt cracked open his eyes in sleepy confusion. He wasn't sure how or when his eyes had closed. That didn't matter, though. Not as much as trying to understand her last statement.

In fond exasperation, Jane added, "I meant it when I told you that all you had to do was ask. I'd be there for you."

Kurt grunted his understanding. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment. Then he'd get up and see what other intel they had on this case.

He didn't feel Jane remove her hand some five minutes later. He didn't feel her drape the blanket over him. And he didn't hear her whisper affectionately before she left the room, "such an idiot."