Hey everyone! Thanks for all your reviews/favourites/follows on chapter one, they are truly appreciated :) And to those who came and followed me on tumblr, welcome! I'll be checking out your blogs and doing some follow-backs soon. One can never be surrounded by too many Blindspotters, right?
Also, apologies, I intended to have this up for you guys earlier, but work has been insane, and I've had like zero time.
Anyhow, hope you enjoy chapter two!
"What do you mean, Jane's gone?"
Hands hovering motionless in the air above her keyboard, Patterson stared up at them in shock, looking like she'd just taken a vicious punch to the gut from someone she'd never expected would ever hurt her.
Which was pretty much how exactly Weller himself had felt when he'd heard those same words just minutes ago, his world once more turning completely upside down, yanking his feet from under him just as he'd thought he was regaining his balance. When Borden had approached him down the deserted side corridor— the psychiatrist somehow always knowing exactly where to find him even when he least wanted to be found— he'd still been trying to recover from the last in the line of emotional beatings, a counseling session literally about the last thing on his mind after what he'd just endured in that interview room.
He'd already lifted a hand to wave him off, mind already preparing the words to respectfully but firmly decline his services, when he'd seen the look on the other man's face, seen the telling hint of fear behind his normally steady gaze— and instantly the heat of his anger had died out, morphing into an icy feeling of sheer dread that had gripped his heart and refused to let go.
After his father, after Taylor, after Jane, he'd thought that he was through the worst of it, thought that surely the world had punished him enough. But he'd been wrong.
Instead, the blows just kept on coming.
"She was removed to another facility immediately following the interview," Borden offered in response to Patterson's question, seemingly aware of Weller's preoccupation.
"What other facility?!"
"That's what we're asking you, Patterson," Weller growled, breaking free of his thoughts, barely restraining his frustration as he stepped closer, at last leaving the spot by the doorway where he'd hung back, arms crossed, as Borden had passed on his news.
"Well shouldn't you know?" she asked, her voice rising half an octave in alarm, the words almost bordering on a demand, eliciting raised eyebrows from the still-silent Zapata and Reade. "Like, as the Assistant Director?"
"Patterson," he warned, feeling the headache that had plagued him for the last week steadily intensifying, a fierce throbbing at the base of his skull. He couldn't take this right now, could barely even manage to keep functioning, his entire being running on spiked coffee and stubbornness since the moment the world had gone to hell.
Thankfully for his sanity and the others' understanding, though, Borden chose that moment to step in once more, his tone conciliatory. "I think what Assistant Director Weller is trying to say is that this transfer was undertaken without his being informed."
Patterson blinked at that, then blew out a sharp breath, her anxiety shifting rapidly into determination.
"Right, and no one takes one of ours and gets away with it," she said fiercely, her fingers already flying over the keyboard. "Don't worry, Boss, I'm on it. Jane's as good as found."
"That's not what this is about," he corrected evenly, his eyes hard as he looked from Patterson to the others, ensuring they understood. "This is about a detainee under my jurisdiction being removed without my knowledge or approval. I don't like it and I don't trust it."
"So you're saying the fact that this detainee happens to be Jane means nothing to you," Reade said incredulously from his spot by the desk, speaking up for the first time since Weller and Borden had gathered together this hasty meeting.
Weller crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Reade's gaze squarely, his voice cold. "As I said."
"And her confession did nothing to change how you feel?" Reade challenged, "Given all that we've already learned about Orion?"
Weller clenched his jaw for a moment, refusing to let Reade see just how close his words had struck, his voice edged with bitterness at both Jane and at his own weakness.
"Pretty hard to take someone at their word when they've been lying to all of us for months."
"Oh come on, Weller," Zapata drawled, tag-teaming him with Reade. "We've all seen Jane's poker face, and that was not it. That was an open book. And even you would have to see that everything she did was under coercion."
"Look, none of that is important right now," he said firmly, closing the topic. "Finding out where she's been taken, and by who, comes first."
Reade shook his head, letting out a small sigh, but seemed to let his pro-Jane campaign rest for the moment. "All right, so what did the director say about it?"
Weller grunted. "What do you think? Classified. Told me to leave it alone."
Patterson piped up at that, her eyes never straying from her screen as she continued to type feverishly. "Oh, so you came down here and roped us all in to disobeying direct orders from one of the highest-ranking members of the FBI in order to find someone you claim not to care about? Interesting."
"Patterson."
"Just wanted to make sure I had it straight," she tossed back, sounding almost cheerful. "But anyway, you know how much I love breaking rules. I'll know her location in a matter of minutes."
Arms crossed, Zapata looked between him and Patterson for a long moment, her expression contemplative. "And when we find her? What then?"
"We'll decide that when we have more answers," Weller countered, as if he hadn't been asking himself that very same question— and determinedly fighting against his instinctive answer— since the moment Borden had found him in that corridor.
"Actually, looks like we'll have to decide now," Patterson remarked triumphantly, eyes bright with victory. "I know where Jane is."
"Where?" he asked immediately, jaw clenching as he fought the urge to lunge forward and yank the screen around, as if seeing the dot on a map could somehow magically ease the crushing weight on his chest, could allow him to breathe freely again.
Except he already knew it wouldn't be enough.
"It's a downtown address," she said slowly, the words drawn out as she stared at the screen in concentration, fingers moving swiftly over the keys. And then her expression shifted, eyes widening. "I— oh. This is not good."
"What?" he demanded roughly, then grimaced, softening his tone slightly. "What is it, Patterson?"
"The address was flagged by one of my databases," she told him, her eyes meeting his, her gaze suddenly sharp with worry. "Weller, it's a CIA holding facility."
The words hit him like yet another punch to the gut, paralyzing him, stealing his breath. The CIA had wanted Jane from the start, had hunted her like an animal, had even been on the verge of capturing her and sparking an inter-agency war before Mayfair had put a stop to it.
But Jane was no longer under the protection of the FBI, and now that she had admitted to being complicit in Carter's death— now that she had painted a target on her own back and practically handed them the gun— the CIA had claimed her at last, and there was no way in hell they were ever letting her go.
Shit.
"Wait, you have a database of CIA sites?" Zapata asked incredulously, peering over Patterson's shoulder as she resumed typing.
Patterson shrugged distractedly. "It's a hobby."
"An incredibly illegal one," Reade said, eyebrows high.
Zapata snorted at that, looking back at him. "You do remember what we're doing right now, right?"
"Enough," Weller said, his voice stern as he forced all of them— including himself— to focus. "We have bigger problems. Patterson, what can you find out about this CIA site?"
"Hold on, I'm already accessing their specs in the database. It'll take a minute."
"So, what?" Reade asked, frowning slightly in thought as he considered the different angles. "The CIA has claimed Jane back now that the truth about Carter is out? Or maybe they just want to use what she knows about Orion?"
"Yeah, that, or silence her for it," Zapata muttered grimly, eyes turning hard. She had no more love for the CIA than Weller himself did. "Either way, there is no scenario where being in the CIA's hands ends well for Jane. Once they've gotten all they want out of her, she'll be put away somewhere dark and quiet where no one will ever see her again."
At her words, Borden spoke up at last, having been observing silently throughout their exchange.
"Actually, Jane said much the same thing herself."
Turning to him, Weller frowned. "Excuse me?"
"After all of you had departed the interrogation room, Jane expressed some certainty that she was going to be taken to a place much like the one you just described, Agent Zapata. She appeared quite resigned to it," he stated evenly, then turned to lock his gaze meaningfully with Weller's as he continued. "In fact, the only distress she demonstrated as they removed her was at the thought of all of you. She repeatedly— and rather vehemently— sought my assurances that I would watch out for each of you in her absence. Particularly you, Assistant Director Weller."
Feeling the intended impact of the words, Weller sucked in a ragged breath, his jaw clenching almost painfully as he fought back against the storm of emotions rising within him, refusing to give in and let them take him over.
But Borden wasn't done.
"If you were to wish for my opinion regarding the sincerity of Jane's testimony and her character as a whole, I would have no hesitation in asserting that her confession was both truthful and genuinely remorseful," he avouched, his all-too-knowing eyes finding each of them in turn. "My many observations of Jane's character have demonstrated that she is, above all, driven by the need to protect those she cares about. Who, with the addition of Ms Sarah Weller and her son Sawyer, are the very people in this room, the very people whom she used her sole bargaining chip to be able to see face to face one final time before giving herself up to whatever fate she knew awaited her."
As he finished speaking, Patterson looked up sharply from her screen, her wide eyes latching onto Weller's.
"We have to get her back."
Weller shook his head. "Patterson, we can't just—"
"No, Weller, we have to get her back," she insisted, turning her screen so he could see the details listed there. "This place isn't just a holding facility. This is the worst of the worst, the kind of place that operates completely under the radar and completely without rules. They'll torture her, Weller. Both physically and psychologically. And when they're done, they'll toss whatever's left into a cell so small and dark it'd be cruel to keep a rat in it, let alone a person."
Her lip trembled. "If we let them keep her, she'll die in there. Alone, tortured, and thinking we didn't care. Thinking we wanted her to suffer."
For split second, Weller lost himself. He lost the floor he was standing on, lost the team around him, lost all but the roaring in his ears, the searing pain that buried itself like a knife into his chest. But only for a second. Then, screwing his eyes tightly shut, he drew an unsteady breath and forcibly pulled himself back, fighting off the darkness just as he'd learned to do twenty-five years ago, the last time someone had been stolen from him.
But this time was different. This time, he had the chance to steal them back.
Opening his eyes, he looked to Reade, who raised his brows expectantly, then to Zapata, who nodded slightly.
All he had to do was give the word, and they would be with him. But could he really ask this of them? Ask them to risk not only their jobs, but their freedom, their lives?
He hated himself then, hated every beat of his traitorous heart, because he knew he could.
For Jane, he could.
Shit.
"You know, as much as I hate what happened to Mayfair, I can't ignore that Jane was a victim too," Reade spoke up after another moment of conflicted silence, surprising the others as much as Weller. "If it was any of us in there, she wouldn't hesitate to come bust us out."
Seeing Zapata and Patterson nod in instant agreement, Weller rubbed a hand across his face, his headache seeming to have spread throughout every inch of his body.
"If we do this, what then?" he asked abruptly, determined to make the obstacles clear to everyone, to make sure they understood what they were up against. "Even if we pull it off, and manage to get in and out of a secure government facility without being nabbed, we would have a fugitive on our hands. It's not like we could bring her back here. How the hell would we hide someone who was being hunted by both the FBI and the CIA?"
"I think I know a way we could," Zapata murmured thoughtfully, and they each turned to look at her with varying levels of surprise, awaiting her explanation.
"Patterson, can you bring up that Daylight folder?" she asked, brow creasing as she concentrated, seemingly searching her memory. "There was a document in there on contingency plans, right? Cash drops, fake documentation, safehouses…"
"Oh my god, yes, you're right!" Patterson exclaimed, already typing furiously. "There were at least four New York safehouses listed in that document, and if what I've read of the Daylight file is correct, no one should know about them except Mayfair, Carter, and Sofia Varma, all of whom are now dead. Any of these places would be completely off the grid."
It was then that he felt it; felt the small spark of hope finally flicker to life inside his chest, felt the energy begin to grow and spread throughout his body, burning away the despair and bringing him back to life, inch by inch. Straightening his shoulders, he stepped forward, his voice clear and purposeful.
"Patterson, give Reade and Zapata the addresses and any info you have on each place," he ordered, looking between the three of them. "You two will check them out, discreetly, and find our best option while making sure it's clear. And Patterson, once you're done with that, I want you to get me all the specs for that CIA holding site."
Without waiting for an answer— he already knew they were with him— he turned away from them, fixing his gaze on the quiet psychiatrist.
"Borden, it's probably time for you to go. I don't want you being dragged any deeper into this."
Borden's chin lifted ever so slightly, his eyes resolute. "Jane was also under my care, Assistant Director. And even more so, she is my friend. I will help you in any way I am able."
Unsurprised but still relieved, Weller gave an approving nod. "Good. Because I have a feeling we might be needing you."
Then, turning back to the team, he raised his brows. "Everyone clear?"
There was a chorus of agreement, then Patterson tilted her head, shooting him a look. "What are you gonna do?"
His lips quirked, the closest he'd gotten to a smile in a week. "I'm going to reach out to an old friend."
All three of them looked at him curiously, Zapata soon voicing the question they were all thinking.
"What do you mean?"
Weller raised his brows, grimly triumphant. "Who better to break someone out of prison and help them disappear than someone who's done it before?"
Reade closed his eyes in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"I can and I am," he answered mildly, letting them see he meant it. "We need to find Rich Dotcom."
"But we've already been searching for him for weeks," Reade protested, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "What makes you think we'd suddenly be able to find him now?"
"He'll come to us. He'll come for Jane," Weller responded, his voice certain. "Patterson, do you think you could get a message somewhere he would see it?"
Patterson nodded slowly, still absorbing his revelation. "I can't make any promises, but yeah, I think I know of a few places."
"Good. Get the safehouse info first. I'm going to write down the message I want you to post. If Rich sees it, he'll know it's me, and he'll know about Jane. Once he's managed to hack in and confirm our story— which he will— he'll reach out. I guarantee it."
Zapata looked skeptical. "And risk his own freedom and safety?"
"He will for Jane," Weller insisted. Rich was about as self-centered as they came, but he'd made no secret of his soft spot for Jane. Plus, the lure of humiliating another government agency would simply be too good for him to resist; Weller was certain of it.
"He'll come for her," he repeated confidently, "And he'll come for the game."
There was silence for a moment, and then Patterson drew a breath, giving a sharp nod. "Okay then. So that's it. We're really doing this."
At her words, Weller looked slowly around the room, surveying his team. Alone, they were all flawed, damaged, each bearing the scars of their pasts— but together they were strong. Together, they were an unbeatable unit. A family.
A family that had already lost one member, the wound Mayfair had left still cutting deep.
He wouldn't let them lose another.
"This is the last chance for anyone to back out," he said finally, looking at each of them in turn, ensuring they understood the seriousness of the moment. "There will be no judgement, no consequences for stepping down now, whereas continuing with this plan could come with a high price. So if you need to go, go."
There was a beat of silence, a drawn out moment as they balanced on the precipice, and then—
"Just so you know, when we go check out the safehouses, I am totally driving," Reade spoke up, turning to Zapata with a mischievous grin.
"Nice try," Zapata drawled. "You get shotgun. I'm driving and I'm choosing the music. Patterson, give us all you got."
Patterson beamed at her. "On it."
At that moment, Borden stepped forward, drawing his attention. "I have an appointment shortly, but I believe I will use my remaining free minutes to begin brainstorming our... cover stories, for the lack of a better term. Everyone taking part in this plan will need to have memorized every detail of their alibi, as there is little doubt that we will be among the first to be questioned the moment Jane's escape is known."
Meeting Weller's eyes squarely, he gave a small, graceful nod. "Now, I must take my leave. Keep me in the loop, Assistant Director, and please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any further tasks you wish me to undertake."
"Thank you, Borden," Weller told him quietly, the words not only for his future role in the plan, but for finding him in that corridor; for leading them here, to this moment. And from the look in the other man's eyes, he could tell that he understood.
"You are the second person to have expressed such gratitude to me within the past hour," he responded after a moment, his words equally soft. "I only hope I prove worthy of it."
Then, with a final parting nod to the rest of the team, he turned and exited the lab, leaving the four agents to their mission.
Turning back to the others, Weller took a deep breath, then spoke the words that would seal all of their fates.
"All right, everyone. Let's go get Jane back."
Wow, Weller is such a challenge. If you found him out of character (bearing in mind that this is a time of extreme emotion and not everyday Weller-life) let me know, and I'll work on improving it.
Also, I totally didn't initially realise Rich would be appearing in this story, but somehow it simply happened. And since completing the draft for this story I've actually seen a couple of tumblr posts saying they hope he'll come back and help Jane in S2, so I hope everyone on here shares that view as well! :P
Anyway, thanks again for reading! I promise that next chapter— aka the great escape!— will be up as soon as possible, but in about 20 hours I'm flying out to Thailand for a week to do some scuba diving so I might not be able to post til I'm back home. Sorry! Though I did stay up til 2am (with an 8am shift in the morning) to get this current chapter to you guys, so that has to count in my favour haha.
-Laura
