A/N: OMG That episode! So many feels you guys! Poor Patterson! So much happened in that last little bit—ugh, I don't even know. And how was that slow-mo entrance Jane had? Heart eyes x a million. I loved the tension. I really wanted more interaction with Weller's ex, weirdly enough. If just to keep making things more awkward. This piece kind of came out of nowhere. Please don't hate me. Title from the Bebe Rexha song; "Litost" lyrics by X Ambassadors.

I Can't Stop Drinking About You

XOX

What have I done?

With my heart on the floor

I must be out of my mind

To come back begging for more

But if you stay

And if you just stay for the night

Swear that I'm yours

And I'll prove that I'm right…

XOX

Allison Knight could count on one hand the truly terrible mistakes she'd made in her life. Letting go of Kurt Weller ranked in that top 5. They'd been amazing together. But at the time, they'd been utterly consumed by their jobs.

Promotions were all well and good, but they didn't keep you warm at night. Communication hadn't been Kurt's strong suit, not that she couldn't be held accountable for the very same thing. They'd made their choices.

Being there today, in the FBI with him again, she'd wondered where it all went wrong. It was like old times—good times. For a moment she'd forgotten why they separated in the first place. Was it poor timing, above all else?

Allison stared blankly into her glass of whiskey. No, it had never been about timing. Even as they flirted and bantered back and forth, she was brought back to reality now, as she remembered. There was always one thing that had taken priority above all else. That case.

His obsession.

Oh, she knew about it. His desperate hunt for the missing girl next door. He'd been more than a little intoxicated when he told her about it. She could understand that blame, really. Could even understand the baggage that came with it.

What she couldn't understand was his reluctance to let himself be happy—even if it wasn't with her. Even now, clearly single, he wouldn't condescend to have a drink with her. That was odd, out of character. Before, he would have readily agreed, had the drink, probably made the delightful mistake of falling into bed with her. Of that, she was certain.

She could even see the familiar, small spark of desire in his blue eyes when she demanded he take her out sometime. Could see him remembering how very good they were. Mistake or not, they were heat and fire.

But something had changed between the then, when they were together, and the now, when they weren't. He had changed. For despite her assumption that he would happily take her on some misguided attempt at a "date" that would inevitably lead to their second mistake, she'd been left in the cold. Being rejected was not an idea she took kindly too. Being rejected by Kurt? Unfathomable.

"I'll take another," Allison said to the bartender, pushing her empty glass forward. He obliged, filling it with whiskey.

Of course, she'd be remiss not to connect the dots. The way he'd looked at her—in that form-fitting black evening gown, wearing a diamond necklace worth millions. Almost as if the dress and the gems were lucky they'd been chosen to grace her body the way his eyes drank her in.

That had hurt.

In their entire relationship, she couldn't recall him ever being that absolutely…mesmerized, by her.

Allison had the strangest feeling that this Jane wasn't just a consultant. The look between them…there'd been a fierce protectiveness and a complete devotion layered beneath the marvel. A wonderment she couldn't explain.

She threw back the rest of the whiskey, nudging the glass forward once more, tossing a curt nod at the bartender.

The door of the bar rattled—the small bell announcing the presence of another patron. She turned reflexively.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

He eyed her curiously, slowly moving towards her at the bar. She raised her refilled glass at him in a silent toast.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said, eyebrow high, lip quirked. "Considering you turned me down."

"Didn't know you'd be here," Kurt replied a bit warily, taking the seat next to her. "Same," he said, indicating Allison's drink when the bartender glanced up at him.

"I doubt that. You know I love this bar," Allison said, sipping her whiskey. She couldn't stop the tart question from passing her lips. "What happened to your housewarming party, for your girl?"

She searched his face for any hint as to why he was here and not there.

"Something…something happened, to one of my team's friends," he answered vaguely. "They're at the hospital, right now. I just…had to get out, for a little while."

Kurt threw back the whiskey in one long swallow, nodding at the bartender immediately.

"Sorry," she said, feeling a little bad about the way the question had sounded. It wouldn't do her any favors, playing the jealous ex. Not right now.

Allison watched as he quickly downed the second glass. Faster, even, than she had. "Rough night, I guess."

He tapped the top of the glass. Another pour. She grimaced as he slammed that one down, too.

He sighed heavily, his gaze watery from the burn of the liquor. "Seems to be going around."

"Yeah, must be," she agreed, feeling herself sober as he continued to drink. Allison knew better than to tell him to stop—that he'd had enough. It wasn't her place, and she surely didn't want the backlash. Whatever was happening was deeply affecting him. "Did you…want me to call someone?"

He laughed, but it was dark and hollow and not at all the man she used to know. "I thought this was what you wanted?"

It came out slightly slurred and more than a little antagonizing. Allison narrowed her hazel eyes.

"Maybe. But it's certainly not what you want."

His mouth turned up in a smirk at her pursed lips. "And you think you know what I want."

"Please, you think you're hiding it so well. Your girl, with all the tattoos. She doesn't exactly scream FBI consultant. What does she really mean to you, Kurt?"

He looked away, his expression shifting into one of shame or guilt or longing. Maybe it was all three, she thought, as he slowly turned his glass upside down. Like he just awoke to the world crashing around him. In the end, he just looked haunted. "Doesn't matter."

Allison tilted her head, studying him curiously. It took her a minute, sliding all the pieces together. "Oh my god—it's her. She's the girl?"

He shook his head. "We don't…we don't know that. Neither should you," he paused, finally meeting her surprised gaze with a steely resolve. "It'll only get you killed, Ally. I don't want that for you."

She furrowed her brow, struck by the contempt and self-loathing in his voice. Whatever had gone down tonight, after they'd all departed, it connected back to this Jane somehow.

"Okay," she said, agreeing to something she'd probably never understand. She placed a gentle, comforting hand over top of his. Allison watched his countenance shift, largely due in part to the alcohol and the events of the day—could see the question before he asked it. Immediately resented him for it.

"So," he said gruffly, turning over his hand and clasping hers. "Did you wanna get out of here?"

She stared at him, for a long while. His mouth set in a grim line—blue eyes turned gray and vacant—as empty has his proposition.

"No," she whispered. A brief flash of anger crossed his face as she pulled her hand away. Just because you're familiar, no matter how much you want this, she thought. She knew when to bow out gracefully. "I wouldn't do that to her."

Despite herself, she knew the statement was true. And he didn't mean it anyway. He'd turned all of her advances down earlier in favor of the tattooed consultant. She wasn't the person he wanted right now.

Allison reached into his coat pocket, taking his keys and cell phone. She scrolled through his contacts, stopping at the number she wanted before pressing send.

Kurt huffed, turning his glass back over. "Another."

XOX

The ringing of her cell phone startled her—it's sharp tone splitting the silence of the waiting room. Patterson had cried herself into a fitful sleep, leaning against Jane's shoulder and holding Zapata's hand. Only they remained, a quiet vigil, consoling their friend. Mayfair was handling the situation—a rather vague statement if Jane had ever heard one.

Reade had gone back to the FBI, taking the statement of the man that found David. They hadn't wanted to say it in front of Patterson—and in her grief she probably hadn't noticed that the man was clearly an agent.

Most likely sent by Mayfair. Yet another low blow.

The price paid for knowing about her increased every day. David's death weighed heavy on her—another burden to bear.

Jane eased the cell phone out of her back pocket, recognizing Kurt's name. He said he'd be back soon, that he'd needed some air.

"Kurt, what's—"

"Jane?" the female voice intoned.

"Who is this?" Jane demanded, tension coiling throughout her body. Zapata shot her a questioning look.

"It's Allison, the U.S. Marshall," the woman answered calmly.

Jane ground her teeth, a dark pit forming in her stomach. "Where's Kurt?"

"Don't worry, he's here. I thought…maybe you should come get him. We're at O'Malley's, It's not too far from the hospital. Should be able to find it pretty easily."

The usage of "we" agitated her. And how did Allison know she was at the hospital?

Jane sighed. "I'll try to be there as soon as possible."

She disconnected the call. Was she such a fool for thinking that maybe he wanted her, somehow? Had they done nothing more than play their parts a bit too well? Had she pushed him to this, with her recollection of a mysterious man she may have been engaged to in her past life? She hadn't been lying—to her it was all a distant memory—one that didn't feel like it even belonged to her. Unfinished and incomplete—the kind of dream you couldn't remember upon waking.

She knew she had loved that man. But it was an empty kind of knowing, and she was so far removed from whatever her life was before all this. There was no context for these memories.

But Kurt…what she felt for him was real, and more, and right now.

Choosy, he'd said, as he looked at her with reverence, dancing in the ridiculous mansion. The fingers of his right hand skimming the wedding rings on her left. Too choosy. Implying no one had measured up. The only explanation that she could find for his reasoning was what she deduced from his soft, smiling eyes.

Had he meant she could be the one to defy that choice? Perhaps she'd read into it more than she should have.

Certainly, if he's off drinking with his ex-girlfriend, she thought bitterly.

"Jane, you okay?" Zapata asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I need to go get Kurt…apparently," she replied.

Zapata raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Jane shrugged her free shoulder, feeling emotionally exhausted. "He's at a bar…with Allison. That was her," she said, waving her phone.

Zapata threw her a solemn smile. She'd read the awkward situation forming earlier, between the trio. She'd stacked her bet on Jane as the victor, though. Allison was clearly a wild card. "Sorry, Jane."

"I'll be back," she said instead, afraid of the pity she'd see in Zapata's eyes if she met them.

Zapata shifted Patterson to rest on her shoulder, freeing Jane. "Hey, don't worry about it. I got this. You get him."

Jane nodded, ignoring the implication in her tone as she pulled her leather jacket on.

One of the agents from her detail waited just outside. She told him where she wanted to go, and they drove.

XOX

"Shouldn't've done that," Kurt mumbled, as she set his phone in front of him. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, having lost count of how many he'd had. Allison continued to glare at him.

"He's done," she said threateningly, after he'd finished off the last drop of whiskey. The bartender nodded, busying himself with two attractive women seated at the end of the bar.

"What gives you the right, Ally? What makes you think you get to make my decisions after all this time? I vaguely recall you being the one to put an end to us," Kurt idly mocked, the slurring worse now. "You don't know me anymore."

"You know, for a little while there I almost forgot why we broke it off in the first place. But then I remembered. That case, it consumed all of you, Kurt-still does, apparently. I never really did know you. You wouldn't let me," she chided, looking away from his piercing gaze. For a moment he actually looked sorry. "And what about her, does she know this lovely side of you?"

"No," he said, staring at his once again ring-less left hand. He missed the weight of the ring. Missed its matching set gracing the delicate finger of his friend. "And I would have preferred she not see me like this."

"What's the line I'm looking for? Oh, right, for better or for worse," she teased lightly, eliciting a genuine smile from him.

"You're a horrible person," he laughed.

"Maybe…but I'm right. You've been staring at your left hand for the better part of twenty minutes, Kurt. Be honest—would you have asked me to go home with you if she were here."

The look in his eyes was enough for her, but he still felt he owed her the truth. He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. "No. I don't really know why I asked in the first place."

"Don't hold back on my account. I'm a big girl, I can handle rejection," she said dryly, the corner of her lip twitching. "I don't know her. I don't know what's going on and I probably don't want too. But I know when someone's trying their hardest to forget. Whatever is going on…I hope you figure it out."

"Yeah…me too."

The bell above the door chimed again. She cast a glance at the newest patron, pulling her wallet out.

"Thank you, Ally, for not kicking my ass for what I…said…earlier," he smiled faintly, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "Next time you visit I won't let myself get this drunk. And I'll do my best not to ask you to sleep with me."

Allison winced at his last sentence—even as a joke, she knew how badly it sounded. That'll be a great start, she thought, shrugging on her jacket and throwing a few twenties on the bar to cover the bill.

She patted his cheek, feeling a little sorry for him. "See, that's the beauty of us being friends. I'm not the one you have to worry about kicking your ass," Allison said, tilting her head to the right, acknowledging their guest.

Jane's confused, wide-eyed stare was not going to leave him anytime soon. It directly mirrored the look on her face after she'd witnessed Allison kiss his cheek at the FBI. He'd done nothing to stop that either.

So much hurt consuming her beautiful face.

Kurt closed his eyes, wishing he could rewind the last two minutes.

Allison greeted Jane with a tentative smile. "Don't be too hard on him. I think he's had a rough night."

Jane shot her a withering look, anger making her skin crawl. This woman didn't know the half of it. And while Jane couldn't fault her for that, she didn't need to be chastised on how she should handle Weller. "We've all had a rough night," she snapped, meeting Kurt's out-of-focus eyes. "That's no excuse."

She hated this, feeling small and inadequate under their rueful stares.

Jane turned back to face Allison, a bitter smile on her face. It was a cheap shot, she knew that. Probably childish too, but she couldn't stop herself. Just once she wanted the upper hand, the last word.

"Maybe you should take him home. Looks like I'm not the company he wants tonight."

With that, Jane retreated, leaving an abashed Allison and a momentarily stunned Kurt in her wake.

Allison raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. A touch of respect in her voice as she said, "Wow, didn't think she had it in her."

Kurt massaged his forehead. He'd have hell to pay for this later.

"And what are you still doing here, Special Agent? Get your ass off that stool and go after her," Allison nodded to the door, a bit sadly. She'd already lost, no use prolonging the situation.

Kurt stood, grabbing his coat and dashing out of the bar without looking back. The liquor made his movements sluggish and uneven. He silently cursed himself for drinking that much.

"Jane!" he called, eyes landing on her form at least a block away. He jogged down the sidewalk to catch up with her—a more difficult feat than it usually was. "Jane, stop!"

Jane came to a halt, her body rigid. She steeled herself, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Or maybe disappear.

She took a deep breath. Unlike him, her eyes shined for a different reason entirely. "What, Kurt? I have to get back to the hospital. I have a friend whose boyfriend died searching for clues to what's tattooed on my body. I can't…deal with this right now. So go, enjoy your Marshall," she whispered harshly as the cold seeped into her skin.

He ran a hand over his face. "I didn't know she'd be here, Jane! Hell, I thought she'd be on a plane by now!"

His voice was strange in her ears, a tone she hadn't heard in their short time together. She jerked back, startled when she realized why it sounded so odd.

"You've never really lied to me before," Jane observed, studying him. He'd left information out of their conversations, sure. But outright lying—never. The absurdity of it all made her feel nauseous. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Not like you seem too broken up about her staying behind. Seems like you had a whole night planned."

He shook his head in frustration, grabbing her shoulders loosely. "You're being ridiculous, Jane! You're reading more into this than there is."

Jane narrowed her eyes, biting her lip as hurt flooded her features once again. More lies. "I guess it wouldn't be the first time today that I read more into a situation than I should have."

Kurt pulled back, dropping his hold on her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jane closed her eyes. Said too much again. "Nothing. It means nothing, Kurt. And chances are you're not going to remember this conversation in the morning anyway."

The last part of her statement brought with it a kind of relief. She could smell the whiskey bleeding from his pores, and he was swaying on his feet—worse by the minute.

She sighed. She'd regret this later. Jane walked away from Kurt, knocking on the window of her detail's car. After a brief conversation out of his earshot, she returned.

"Where are you parked?" Jane demanded.

"Just up the street, why?"

"Give me your keys. I'm taking you to my place," she said, holding out her hand. He fished the keys out of his pocket, setting them in her palm. The fact she didn't have a driver's license not even registering in his alcohol-laden fog.

"Let's go."

XOX

The first thing he realized upon waking up was that he was definitely not at home. The mid-morning sun blinded him, making him cringe as he tried to open his eyes. They felt like glue—his tongue like cotton, and his stomach as if someone had kicked it.

The second thing he noticed was the glass of water and generic ibuprofen sitting primly on the side table. He eased up gently, gratefully downing the pills.

And the last thing—the most important—was that he owed Jane an actual explanation for his behavior.

It was all a bit hazy, but he knew things had gone badly. Allison—Allison had been at the bar. And he'd stupidly asked her to go home with him. After the intimate, sensory day he'd spent with Jane, and the horrifying events that plagued the night, he'd wanted something…easy, in his drunken state. Familiar.

Anything to forget what was happening…if just for a little while.

Apparently, not even several shots of whiskey could drown out the feeling of impending doom that hovered above them all. Who would be next? He wondered. Patterson, with her innate curiosity; Mayfair with all her secrets. Maybe it would be him—his unwavering connection to Jane easily exploitable.

Kurt stood slowly, the unavoidable hangover pressing upon his skull.

He grabbed the empty water glass, heading to her sink for a refill. Half empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the top of her counter, long forgotten in last night's chaos. Kurt sighed, turning the faucet on and filling the tall glass as he worked the kinks out of his neck. He wasn't young enough to sleep on couches anymore.

He noticed the double doors to her bedroom, located directly behind the kitchen, were ajar. He itched to talk to her, but wouldn't dare bother her until she was ready. Of course, she could be waiting for him to leave. His keys sat atop the side table, next to the ibuprofen he'd consumed.

He dismissed that thought. She wanted to say her piece as well. She wouldn't have brought him here otherwise—would have promptly dropped him on his stoop for his sister to deal with.

He took a sip of the tepid water, moving back towards the couch when he caught a glimpse of her in the opening of the doorway. Her back was to him, pulling her white tank top over her head, leaving her torso bare. It was a sure invasion of privacy, but he'd be damned if he could look away.

He was still a red-blooded man, after all.

Kurt realized he'd never really seen it in person—the tattoo of his name between her shoulder blades. Not at least since the day Mayfair flew him to New York and the doctors and agents pulled her robe aside to reveal the mark. Sure, there were pictures—dozens, even. But it was different like this. And in truth, it was a wholly different experience now.

Now there were temptations. Now, there were emotions. There were possibilities.

His gaze traveled the length and curves of her lithe body, stuck in a trance. For once he didn't see the tattoos—he saw the woman. She pulled on a black sports bra before visibly tensing, aware of his presence. She turned just slightly, glancing over her shoulder and locking eyes with him.

She didn't seem angry or upset or even surprised to find him watching her.

What he found interesting was that she appeared more comfortable, half exposed to him here, than she did in the modest evening gown she'd worn just yesterday. Jane broke the connection first, grabbing a gray tank from her dresser. She tugged the shirt on as she walked towards him, pushing her bedroom doors open.

Jane brushed past him, grabbing a glass of her own and filling it. "It's not polite to stare," she commented, clearing her throat.

He looked at the floor, feeling his face flame as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, Jane."

I didn't mean to stare would certainly sound flat and untrue, so he left it out of his already false apology.

She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. "No, you're not."

"Do you enjoy calling me out on my crap?" he asked, a half smile playing on his lips.

She shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "Only when it's obvious."

"And when it's not?"

Jane licked her lips, the atmosphere shifting in the small safe house. "I don't know…someone told me I read too much into what isn't there."

It was a pointed statement, and hardly veiled. Kurt sighed, unprepared to go head to head with her right now. Not that he had much of a choice; this was his fault after all.

"Nothing was going to happen," he settled for, not daring to meet her eyes.

Jane cocked her head to the side, disbelief coating her words. "Between who, Kurt? You and Allison? Or you and…me?"

His gaze snapped up to her. When had she become so bold? Perhaps the last twenty-four hours had changed her as much as it had changed him.

"What do you want from me Jane? What do you want me to say?"

Her crossed arms were less defiant and more protective now. "I just…want to understand. I want to know why you lied to me."

He flexed his fists in frustration, the words flowing before he could stop to think them through. "Because I wanted to forget about all of this, for just a little while. She's…I know exactly how it starts and exactly how it ends with her. It would have been something easy and uncomplicated and she'd be gone in the morning," he swallowed, hating himself just a little bit. "That's why."

So, the truth really did hurt.

"Right," she nodded, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm…complicated…a mystery no one can solve. I'm not something you can fit in a box, and getting close to me…scares you."

He ground his teeth. He couldn't disavow her words—they were true.

"Or maybe it's just that I wouldn't be gone in the morning," she whispered in the silence of the kitchen, moving away from the counter. "You'd still have to look at me."

She had him there. He knew what would happen if they acted on this thing between them. Could virtually predict every high and low. Yesterday had proved that.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Jane," he said, equally quiet.

She knew he didn't mean the possibility of him sleeping with Allison. He meant giving into the possibility of being with her—after a grim tragedy her tattoos played a part in causing, after spending the day pretending they were married in their pretty clothes and diamond rings and all the beguiling emotions that came with it. He didn't want it to be about that. And while she couldn't blame him for seeing it that way, he hadn't bothered to ask her how she felt about it.

"I'm already hurt," Jane said firmly, taking another step closer to him. "You pushing me away…lying to my face, making decisions for me…if you think that doesn't hurt me more than whatever excuse you're making up to keep us apart…"

She let the sentence fall away. The tension was oppressive and thoroughly palpable in the tiny kitchen. Instead, she took a deep, calming breath.

"I'm not the little girl you lost, Kurt. You have to stop seeing me that way. I'm a grown woman. Memory or not, I can make my own decisions," she said softly, trying to convey her point. "People are going to hurt me. You're going to hurt me. You can't protect me from that. I'm not as fragile as you think I am."

Jane smiled lightly, green eyes sparkling when he finally met her gaze. She reached forward, winding her fingers through his. "Besides, you're making an awful lot of assumptions for someone who hasn't even tried to ask me out. I mean, I could be in love with Reade for all you know."

Kurt laughed, long and loud. The tension dissipating, ever so slowly.

"Chinese, Bulgarian, hand-to-hand combat, sharp shooting, helicopter flying, and now we can add a dry sense of humor to the list," he grinned, squeezing her fingers.

Jane nodded at his assessment. "I guess so."

Kurt sighed almost in relief, eyes searching hers. If this is what she wanted, he'd gladly give it to her. "How would you like to go out to breakfast with me, Jane? We can…talk…figure this thing out."

"Breakfast sounds good," she agreed.

He moved, releasing his hold on her fingers so he could collect his coat and keys. Jane stopped him, her hand grasping his forearm. He turned to her expectantly, and in one swift motion she'd moved her hands—one to his neck, the other his shoulder. She used the leverage to pull herself up, her lips slanting over his in a tender, knowing kiss.

They lingered in it for a long moment, neither pushing it any further.

Jane pulled away first, a bit breathless as her palms flattened on his chest. His heart beat as wildly as hers.

Kurt's expression brightened considerably as he gently held her by her waist. "What was that?"

"My decision," she smirked, once again reaching for his hand. "C'mon, you promised me breakfast, and I'm starving."

It wasn't exactly forgiveness, but it was close. Not all of their problems could be solved in one day, at one breakfast, with one kiss. That much he knew, but it was still progress. Danger awaited them around every corner. None of them were safe now.

This woman would probably be the death of him, he thought, as they entered a small diner several blocks away from her safe house. A young waitress handed them laminated menus, syrup still caked to the edges.

But what a beautiful death it would be.