Disclaimer: I do not own Jane or Kurt or Blindspot. Writing about them is simply the outlet for my obsession. And today, my itchiness as well.
Two hours later, he let himself back into Jane's safe house. Everything was quiet, just as he'd left it. As silently as he could, he crept upstairs and peeked into Jane's bedroom, telling himself that what he was doing might be seen as bordering on creepy. If I was only her handler, yes, he argued with himself. But I'm her friend, too.
She was asleep, lying in almost the same position that she had been when he'd left, curled over on her side, hugging the covers under one arm. She looked peaceful. Kurt was just glad that she'd been able to get back to sleep. Poison ivy was no fun for anyone, and even less fun when it kept you awake.
Tiptoeing back downstairs, he took out the things he'd collected from his few stops around town. From one bag, he pulled out coffee and paper filters, plus eggs and milk. The eggs and the milk went into the refrigerator, and he couldn't help but think that he should have gotten a few more things to put in there, as well. From another bag, he took out a wide assortment of different flavors of ice cream, putting them straight into the freezer. Finally, he took the last bag and set it on the floor beside the TV.
Sufficiently proud of himself, he stretched out on the couch, and was asleep in a matter of seconds. It wasn't exactly the way he'd expected to spend his night, but he had no regrets.
It only felt like a few minutes later when he opened his eyes to see sunlight streaming into the room. He heard movement upstairs, but no screaming of obscenities, so he figured that Jane was up, but not currently in the shower. He got himself up, and wandered to the kitchen. First things first, he thought, getting out the supplies for coffee. Setting it up and hitting the button, he heard the familiar hissing noise that told him that it wouldn't be too much longer, and he took out the eggs, cracking several into a bowl and stirring them with a little bit of milk.
A few minutes later, Jane slowly made her way into the living room and sat at the counter at the cutout in the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. Looking into the kitchen just as he took the pan of scrambled eggs off the stove, she said sleepily, "Wow. You've been busy."
"Nah, I went out to get supplies, then came back here and took a nap. I just got up," he told her, as if it was no big deal. He poured two cups of coffee, pushing one across the counter to her, leaving the milk and a few of "those little creamer things," as she called them, for her if she wanted them. When she had her coffee the way she wanted it, he took a sip and smiled.
"You can come over for breakfast any time," she told him, grimacing as she shifted uncomfortably on her stool.
"How're you feeling?" he asked.
She looked as though she was considering it for a minute. "Like I'd still like to claw all my skin off," she replied, trying to force a smile onto her face.
"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically. "Have some scrambled eggs." He reached over and set a plate of eggs and a fork in front of her, hoping to avoid the whole skin clawing thing from playing out in front of him. "I think you'll enjoy these more than either of us would enjoy the skin clawing."
"Thanks. I guess you're right," she replied. As she took a bite, she looked at his as if she was trying to figure something out.
"What?" he asked curiously.
"What exactly did I do to deserve this?" she asked him.
"Who says you deserve it?" he asked, deadpanning once again. "Maybe I'm just way too nice to you." She looked around for something to throw at him but, finding nothing, settled for glaring at him with eyes full of amusement.
"Yeah, something like that," she told him sarcastically.
"Eat up, then we'll go see the doctor and get you some meds," he told her. She glanced at the clock on the wall, which told her that it was almost 8:00am.
Narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him, she asked, "Don't you have to go to work? Shit! We're both supposed to be at work today…"
But he was already shaking his head at her. "Nope, calm down. I called you out. I called me out too. It's all good. You know how many sick days I have? I never take days off, even when I should. We're set."
"Anything you didn't think of already?" she asked him in amusement. She was seriously in awe. It was strange to feel so… cared about. Not that she hadn't thought that he cared about her before. There was definitely a bond between them. But this was just… unexpected.
"Well, I didn't plan out what you're going to wear to the doctor's office, and your pajamas may not be the best choice, so if you're done eating, then go get changed," he told her, back in authority figure mode once again.
"Oh, so you're bossy today, too," she told him, pretending to be annoyed. "I'm not sure how this is gonna work, you being so bossy…" she grinned, but she went upstairs to change without hesitating.
When she was ready, he drove to the FBI building, which confused her until he explained that there was a doctor there who would see her. "Good health care is one of the perks of the job," he explained. "I mean, we could go somewhere else too, but…"
"Then I'd have to start by explaining the tattoos," she finished for him as he nodded. "Yeah, I'm good with an FBI doctor," she agreed.
"I figured you'd say that," he replied.
By noon, they were back at Jane's safe house with several prescriptions, several more tubes of Zanfel, ("It costs how much?" Jane had nearly yelled in the pharmacy), and Chinese take-out. She'd tried several different kinds of Chinese food, but was still working her way through the menu of the place closest to their office, which was where they'd stopped, since they were there anyway.
"Okay, medicine first, and then… either food or scrubbing the itchy spots with in the fire water?" he asked her.
"Definitely food," she replied, looking at him as if he was crazy. She was not looking forward to bringing those bumps in contact with water again. They weren't even really bumps anymore, they had morphed into what she'd call more like… blisters. She looked down at the ones on her arms. Several of them were large and angry, and even just sitting there without moving at all, they were hurting her. Several others had started leaking their pus, and she'd put band aids over them to keep from leaking while they were out. She wasn't looking forward to seeing what they now looked like, even though they didn't hurt quite as much as the ones that were still full.
"Ughhh! When will this end?" she cried in exasperation.
"Do you want me to lie and say today?" he asked her with a sympathetic smile.
"No, I want you to tell me the truth and say today," she wailed. "It hurts."
"I know, but sadly, if I say today, it won't be the truth," he told her. "Sorry."
"I know, I know," she grumbled, doing a good imitation of an angry three year old. He decided not to tell her that that was what she looked like, however, not wanting to push his luck.
She took her medicine, though she didn't feel any different afterwards – as she made sure to tell him – and they ate their Chinese food. They had gotten two more items from the menu that Jane hadn't tried yet – Beef and Broccoli, and Combination Lo Mein. She decided that the Lo Mein was her favorite of all of the Chinese food she'd tried so far, and went on to have several helpings.
"Alright," Weller said as she played with the noodles left on her plate, "now you're just procrastinating. Go scrub all the itchy spots. Then we're gonna watch a bunch of movies and sit around and do nothing," he told her.
"Geez, I wish I didn't feel like such crap so I could enjoy all these fun activities," she mumbled, unhappy that he'd called her on her procrastination. She leaned her chin against the palm of her hand, her elbow propped up on the table, squinting angrily at the general direction of her plate.
Suddenly, it was as if he was hovering just over her shoulder, and she turned her head quickly to find that, in fact, he was. "If you didn't feel like such crap, we'd be at work, probably doing something very dangerous," he reminded her, his voice suddenly much softer to make up for how much closer he was to her. He stood back up quickly, however, before she could catch him, not wanting to be inadvertently hit with poison ivy bumps.
"And that would be a lot more fun that having poison ivy!" she grumbled as she took her plate to the sink.
"And yet, you get to spend the day in my company, you lucky girl!" he called as she went up the stairs towards the shower.
"I'll feel a lot luckier when I don't have poison ivy… no offense, Weller!" she called back.
He chuckled as she went, feeling slightly guilty for being so amused by her. It wasn't her pain that he found funny, it was just her. Her "Jane-ness" was amplified a little bit by her discomfort, and it was very endearing – though he knew that it wasn't fun for her.
While she was in the shower, he set up the next part of his plan. He'd brought over a selection of movies from his living room, where he had a pretty extensive collection – especially now that Sawyer and Sarah had added theirs to the mix. He'd brought several popular movie series – Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter (that one nabbed from Sawyer's collection) and planned to have Jane watch the first one of each, and then see which one, if any, she wanted to see more of.
He heard the water upstairs, but only heard her shriek once, and not in such colorful language as the first time, so he figured that that was progress. There was also a thudding noise that could definitely have been her stomping her feet, however, so he imagined that the water was still hurting her. When she came back downstairs, she looked clean but slightly traumatized, and she was limping slightly.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, indicating her limp.
"I have those stupid blisters all over that leg, a couple on top of my knee and a few behind it, and they all hurt," she said, wincing as she walked. "They're full of that nasty pus stuff and it's just…" Instead of finishing her sentence, she just shrieked unintelligibly in aggravation.
He walked slowly but purposefully over to where she stood with a pained expression on her face, stopping only a few inches in front of her. "Hey," he said, staring right into her eyes but holding still exactly where he was. It was strange, forcing himself to keep his hands to himself. Yes, he'd taken her hands the day before, but really, he knew that he should avoid doing even that, just to be safe. Poison ivy was not an experience he wanted to repeat anytime soon, and it was contagious until the blisters dried up… which hers definitely had not.
Still, even knowing this, it was difficult not to do something small, like take her hand or touch her arm, as he was accustomed to doing when she was upset. "I know, it sucks. But it's not forever. It only feels like it." He stood and looked into her eyes for about ten seconds after he finished speaking, just standing there, inches from her face, looking into her eyes and smiling.
He has to know what he's doing to me when he does this, she thought, but said nothing. It wasn't as though she wanted to discourage him, after all… She had to remind herself to breathe, and to say something in response.
"I know," she whispered, unable to think of anything else.
And just like that, he stepped away and went to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. "Go lay down on the couch and put your feet up," he told her. "Our next activity is a movie, anyway." She wasn't sure she would ever quite get used to this dance of theirs, back and forth over the line. Where was the line, anyway?
"Okay," she agreed, hobbling over to the couch and positioning herself very carefully, trying to avoid the spots that would hurt her, which was, of course, impossible. She muttered several curses before settling herself somewhat comfortably. He set down their water glasses on the end table, and then walked back to the bag on the floor by the TV.
Standing back up, he explained the idea. "So there's some series of movies that are really popular, and most people have seen them, or at least know of them. So I chose a few different series, and I figured we could watch the first one of each, and then you could see if you wanted to see more or any of them. Or all of them." Her eyes widened slightly, and he added, "Not necessarily all today." It was, after all, already almost 1:00pm.
She nodded, already feeling slightly drowsy again.
"So I figured we'd just watch them in the order they came out. This oldest one is called Star Wars. The first one came out in…" he consulted the date on the box. "1977."
"Wow," she said, "so it's…"
"39, yup," he finished her sentence, not quite sure with where she was going with her sentence, but trying to steer them toward the safer route. Even now that they knew that she was Taylor Shaw, talking about the past was like walking over trip wires. It was hard to be sure that one of them wouldn't snag on her.
"I was going to say, "Older than me," she replied slowly.
"It is," he said. "Older than both of us." They just looked at each other for a few seconds, then Kurt turned abruptly to put the movie into the DVD player. As he walked towards her with the remote control, she realized that she had draped herself over the whole couch, and she started to slowly push herself to sit up.
"Don't move," he told her quickly, "You're fine where you are."
She looked at him in confusion. "But what about you?" she asked.
He glanced around for a second before heading across the room towards a chair. She was about to argue that the chair was much too far away for him to be able to see the TV from there, but he surprised her by picking up the cushion off of the chair and walking back towards her. Since he seemed to have a plan, she just watched as he set the cushion down beside the end of the couch where her head was, then sat down on it, turning to look at her. She turned her head as well, and found that he was closer than she'd thought.
"That's as close as I'm getting to you and you itchy bumps," he told her. Just like the previous time, his face was dead serious, except for his eyes.
"For today," she said in the same amused tone as she had earlier.
He glanced down at the visible bumps on her arms, then back up at her. "And possibly tomorrow as well." Still, dead serious.
"I guess that's for the best," she sighed, her smile escaping its confinement. He was really amusing when he wanted to be, which seemed to be most of the time when they weren't working.
Pointing the remote at the screen, he navigated the menu and soon had the movie started. Jane asked a lot of questions as the move wore on, but that was fine with him. He wasn't one of those "Don't you dare talk during Star Wars" fans. On the contrary, having seen the movies innumerable times over the years, including quite a few times with a very chatty Sawyer who often asked even more questions than Jane, he liked the fact that she seemed to enjoy it as well.
Two hours later, the credits were rolling and Jane groaned as she struggled to stand up without hitting any of the spots that she'd been trying not to touch. "Ow… ow… ow… ow… F-" she gritted her teeth together and closed her eyes as hard as she could, trying to suppress a sudden pain that came from a particularly sore blister coming into contact with something… she wasn't even sure what it had bumped against, only that for a few seconds, the agony was overwhelming. The next thing she felt was…. sticky.
"Oh, gross," she cried, jumping up and looking for the source of the sticky feeling. Sure enough, the blister on her leg that had just bumped against something – maybe the couch? – had just popped, leaving behind it a sticky patch on the middle of the back of one leg of her cloth pants. "I need to go change. And while I'm up, I need to pee."
Weller just chuckled at her as she made her way toward the stairs, hobbling along. He stood up and stretched too. His seat on the floor wasn't quite as comfortable as the couch, but he was fine with the arrangement. Besides he knew that Jane was far more uncomfortable than he was.
While he waited for her, he switched out the movies, then set out bowls and the many different smallish containers of ice cream that he'd bought that morning.
"Well, the good news," she said as she walked back into the room, "is that blister that popped was one of the ones behind my knee that was really hurting. So now that the pressure there is gone, my knee hurts just a little less."
"That's good news indeed," he agreed, watching her reaction as she noticed what he was doing. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her eyes light up.
"So, what's all this?" she asked, walking towards the counter where she'd eaten breakfast that morning. She sat down on a stool, slowly and carefully, once again.
"Ice cream," he told her, trying to keep a straight face when she narrowed her eyes at him.
"I can see that," said in exasperation. "But that's… a lot of ice cream. Why so much?"
"What kind is your favorite?" he asked her, seeming to change the subject.
That's unlike him, she thought. He knew better than to ask about her favorite, well, anything. She always just ended up frustrated and sad, because she didn't know her favorites. He hadn't made that mistake since the very first time he'd dropped her off at her safe house and said that she could pick whatever she liked to eat and they'd get it for her. Her frown immediately made her face cloud over and for a second, he regretted not having just told her what he was up to.
"That's why," he said quickly, waiting to see her smile to reappear. "Because you can't find your favorite if you don't try a whole lot of them."
The little bit of annoyance that she'd felt when she'd thought that his question had been insensitive was replaced by a feeling of gratitude that was even stronger. How was he always so thoughtful? For a second she was speechless, and she sat there, smiling at him, still slightly in awe. "Thanks," she finally managed.
He was grinning now, clearly proud of himself. "You ready?" he asked. "We have a lot of work to do here."
"I think I can handle it," she said. "This is one of the better challenges I think I've been issued lately."
And so he scooped out tiny amounts of the various flavors that he'd brought. The classic chocolate, vanilla and strawberry, of course, just for comparison, though Jane had had both chocolate and vanilla already, and then on to coffee, rocky road, pistachio, double chocolate, caramel fudge, and finally, an orange sherbet with chocolate chunks in it called Swiss Chocolate.
In the end, there was still a surprisingly large quantity of ice cream left, though they had done their best, going back for seconds of several kinds. "Please, no more ice cream…" Jane moaned. "I think I'm going to explode." Weller put in the freezer for another time, chuckling.
"This is only the beginning, you know that, right? There are hundreds of flavors of ice cream out there… maybe even thousands!"
Across the counter from him, Jane just groaned. "Never again! I'm done with ice cream forever!"
"Somehow I doubt that, but we'll see… So, out of the ones we had, which one was your favorite?" he asked her.
She smiled this time, glad that she could now answer this question. "I would have to say that last one. Swiss Chocolate? But of course they were all good… Except now, now they are all bad and I never want to see ice cream again." She staggered back over to the couch. "Was that part of your plan as well?" she asked him suspiciously as she laid back down, again trying not to bump any of the many sore spots on her body.
"Not at all," he replied, coming back to retrieve the remote and sit beside her on his cushion on the floor. "But was it fun?"
"Yes," she admitted. "Up until now."
"That was the plan," he replied with a smile. "Ready for the next movie?" It was about 3:30 pm, so he figured they could fit in another long one before Jane would be hungry again.
"Sure," she said. "What's this one?"
"This one – actually both of the other series I have with me – are based on books. I know you haven't read them, but they make good movies, too. Though I have to warn you that the ending of this one isn't very satisfying. This one requires you to be willing to watch the next one, the other two, really, in order to get closure. When I watched it with Sarah, before I managed to get her to read the books," he remembered back to that day as he talked, "I distinctly recall that she was mad at me at the end of this movie. I believe that she hit me over the head with a blunt object of some kind…" He looked around to be sure that there were no blunt objects within Jane's reach, then back at her, a little boy grin on his face. "They're good, though, I swear."
Jane just looked at him, completely confused. "Okay…" she said slowly. "Well, fine, whatever."
"That's the spirit!" he said. "This series is called Lord of the Rings. It's a series of three long books about hobbits and wizards and… well, you'll see." He pushed play on the movie and turned his attention to the screen.
"What's a hobbit?" she whispered loudly towards his ear.
"Just watch. You'll see one in a second," he replied, and they both turned to look at the screen. Once again, Weller answered questions throughout the movie, even more so this time, since movies made from books so often have to leave out details that can be helpful for understanding the plot and the characters. He was fairly sure that she'd enjoyed it, but her face at the end was perplexed.
"You're right," she told him, "that was not a very good ending. So they'll just keep walking now and maybe they'll get there and maybe they won't? And we won't know unless we watch the next movie!"
"Two more, actually," he corrected her.
"Even worse!" she almost yelled.
"So… does that mean you liked it?" he asked, pretty sure of her answer but wanting to hear it from her.
"Besides the ending, yes. Sarah was right to be mad. That ending was terrible," Jane grumbled. Weller just chuckled at her.
"Time to stretch again?" he asked her.
"Yes," she nodded, standing up stiffly, and then looking at the clock in amazement. "Is it really 6:30?" She looked down at him in surprise as he stood up to stretch, too.
"That it is," he acknowledged. "How are you feeling?"
She scoffed slightly. "About the same, it hurts a little more, actually…" she sighed unhappily. "This is one of those 'it gets worse before it gets better,' things, isn't it?"
Smiling sympathetically, he replied, "Yeah, I'm afraid it is." She made a face that was half annoyed and rolled her eyes. "Oh well," she sighed wistfully, adding, "It just feels like it's never going to end."
He knew it could get him into trouble because he didn't want to appear to be smiling at her pain, but he really couldn't help smiling at her – so he tried to keep his smile at least sympathetic. It was strange, having to hold himself farther back from her and not having any physical contact with her at all. Not that he wouldn't done anything more than hold her hand or something innocent like that, of course. But it wouldn't do any good for both of them to have poison ivy, as much as misery loved company.
"It will," he promised. "Just not quite soon enough." Changing the subject, he asked, "Do you want to watch another movie? We can get the leftover Chinese out if you're hungry…"
"I don't think I'll ever be hungry again," she said emphatically. "Or, at least not for a few more hours."
"Ok, but you still need to take your meds. Then another dose at bedtime," he instructed her.
He walked over to her, stopping a more normal distance away this time. After he dropped the pill into her hand, she stood and stared at him, twisting her face slightly in thought, then said, "I really think you like bossing me around." She put it in her mouth and took the glass of water from him, drinking it all.
"What can I say? It's fun," he replied with a grin. "So, then, movie number three?" Jane wasn't wrong, he was having fun. But not just because he could boss her around a little. Hell, he was sort of her boss at work, he could boss her around anytime – though things probably wouldn't go too well if he tried. But he hadn't had such a fun, lazy day in ages, and it wouldn't have been as much fun if he'd spent it with anyone else.
"Sure. Two minutes, I'll be right back," she said, disappearing into the bathroom once again. He walked to the window and peered outside. It was a pretty day out there, out in the world where the other people moved about, and normally he might have suggested going out to do something. However, any sort of activity that involved leaving the house would have been far less than attractive to someone covered in pus filled blisters. Outside could wait for another day.
When she came back out, he ducked inside the bathroom. Not two minutes later he was back in the living room and found Jane on the couch, sound asleep. Chuckling, he went into the kitchen and cleaned up a little, loading the few dishes that he hadn't already into the dishwasher, and turning it on.
The slight hum from the dishwasher caused Jane to stir on the couch, and as Weller walked over and stopped in the middle of the room, looking down at her where she lay in sleepy confusion, she just gazed up at him, as though she couldn't quite figure out what he was doing there.
"No more movies, today, I think. Looks like it's time for an early bedtime for once. What do you think?" He made sure not to make it an order, even a playful one, but a suggestion.
"Still bossy," she replied quietly, but smiling broadly at him. "But I admit it, I think I like it."
He shook his head, smiling back at her. "Obviously you're way more tired than we thought. You may be delirious, you know." Why is it so much fun to tease her?
"It's the pus talking," she grinned, standing up slowly and wincing in pain. "I'll deny all knowledge of this conversation tomorrow."
"As I would expect," he agreed, nodding his head. He got her other pill and refilled her water yet again, and then nodded towards the stairs. "Go on," he directed her.
"I'm going, I'm going," she said, but didn't move. She stood where she was until he caught up with her, and just stood and looked at him as if to say, So, what are you gonna do about it?
Smiling at her yet again and shaking his head, chuckling to himself, he tried for a serious voice as he said, "Get moving," but failed miserably in his attempt. She laughed too, then started walking.
"You know, I am actually able to walk upstairs by myself," she told him as he followed her up the stairs.
"That's not what you've shown me so far," he replied.
"Shut up," she told him with a smile, not turning around.
She glanced into the bathroom, and he nodded, the question no longer needing to be asked out loud. After she closed the door behind her, he put the tiny white pills and her glass of water on the table by her bed and again walked to the window. It had been a very, very long day, and he was surprised that he hadn't fallen asleep somewhere along the way.
The door opened behind him, and he turned to see her walking towards the bed.
"You look tired," she told him, as he walked back across the room towards her, stopping a few feet from where she stood. A little farther than where he wanted to be, but the right distance, he told himself.
"I am tired," he replied. "Someone called me at 2:30 in the morning and woke me up, then kept me busy all day." He looked anything but annoyed with her, and his tone was the same warm one with which he nearly always talked to her.
"I'm sorry," she told him sincerely, smiling because he was such a good guy that she already knew he didn't mind.
"I'm not," he said simply. "Besides, I had a nap. And we had a great day, or I did, but then I'm not the one covered in pus." He was trying not to smile at her, but it wasn't working.
She chuckled at that, despite the disgusting truth. "Yeah, I know, it's pretty gross. But I had fun too, pus notwithstanding." She looked at him for a few seconds before adding, "Thank you, Weller."
"I told you, call me any time. That includes all the times," he said lightly. "2:30 am isn't first on my list, but for you? Of course." She was still smiling at him. That smile. For a second he was almost lost in it.
She sat down and took her pills, knowing that if she didn't, someone would remind her pretty quickly. Leaning back against her pillow, the familiar chorus of, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, F—" escaped her before she was finally comfortable.
"You'd better get some sleep though, because tomorrow's gonna be pretty interesting, too," he told her.
"You're coming back tomorrow?" she asked, grinning, as she pulled the blanket over her.
"Unless someone blows up something important, that's my plan," he told her. "You, on the other hand, will definitely not be going to work. As beautiful as you are," he watched as she turned dark pink and tried to hide her head under the blanket at his words, "your blisters are still contagious."
"You'd better go before you say something you'll regret," she admonished him playfully, yawning.
He appeared to think about it for a minute, and then said, "Well, I've said my share of things I regretted in my life, I suppose, but that," he crouched down in front of her, where she'd already pulled the blankets back off of her head to hear what he had to say, "is not one of them."
"Good night, Weller. Thank you for everything. Now go home and get some sleep. You deserve it."
"Good night, Jane. I'll see you in the morning. Feel better." The look between them lasted only a split second that time, before he'd stood back up and was out the door, down the stairs, and out her front door.
If I have to have poison ivy, Jane thought, this is the way to do it.
And then, as she fell asleep, she couldn't help but think, Please don't let anything important blow up tomorrow.