Weller left Reade and Zapata at the warehouse, opting to take Jane back to headquarters immediately instead of staying at the scene. Whatever Carter had been planning, he knew it had a deeper connection to Jane and her tattoos, but it wasn't anything that would be figured out tonight.

Jane was silent on the ride back to the FBI, he watched as she slowly curled herself into a ball on the front seat. Presently, her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees, her forehead rested against the passenger door glass, and she was shaking slightly.

He blasted the heat, knowing she was anything but comfortable in her soaked clothes, but the shaking only seemed to get worse.

At a red light he struggled out of his jacket.

"Here, it will keep you warm until you can change your clothes," he said, holding the jacket in front of her.

Her eyes were open but she didn't register his gesture at all.

"Jane," he said, a little more forcefully as he nudged her arm with the jacket.

She visibly recoiled at his touch, raising her hands in defense.

"Jane," he said again, almost a whisper, "hey, it's okay. It's just me."

Her wild eyes met his. When she finally saw him, she lowered her still-shaking hands to her lap and her eyes to the jacket.

The light turned green and the car behind him laid on the horn. Jane jumped at the noise, but Weller stayed put.

"Just lean forward," he coaxed, wanting desperately to help her in any small way that he could. She looked so… lost. "Put this on so you don't catch cold."

She granted his request and he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders.

As the car moved forward once again, Jane wrapped her arms back around her knees and buried her face in the collar of his jacket.

Jane was grateful to whatever Weller had said to Reade and Zapata upon their arrival because they didn't say a word to her… just watched intently as he escorted her out with a firm hand on her lower back.

With the car headed back to headquarters, she quickly lost herself in her current conundrum. Does she tell him the truth? Does she lie until she can find out more from Oscar? Does she lie indefinitely? What happens if she tells the truth and he pushes her away? What happens if she lies and he finds out the truth? Anytime she's tried to keep anything from Weller, he's been able to see right through her. When he finds out, will he think she's just been using him? Has she just been using him?

Jane was so lost in this endless stream of thinking that a sudden pressure on her arm sent her flying. Her hands flew up, preparing for the next blow, but it didn't come. She broke from her fog and saw, first, the concern in Weller's eyes, then the jacket he was holding in front of him.

It was then that she realized how badly she was shaking. The cold had seeped so soundly into her bones she was practically numb. The sudden beeping from the car behind them jolted her for the second time in the span of a minute. She caught his eye once again, and when he asked her to lean forward she did, letting him wrap his jacket around her shaking shoulders. As the car moved forward once again, she brought her knees to her chest, trying to retain any body heat she had left. She turned her cheek into the collar of his jacket, capturing the warmth that his skin had stained it with. The smell of his scent instantly calmed her. She left her face where it was for the remainder of the ride.

Weller parked the car in his usual spot, hopped out and rounded the front end. He opened the passenger side door and offered Jane his hand. She took it, gripped it so tightly it almost brought tears to his eyes. Not that it hurt any, rather, it made him once again wonder what she'd gone through after leaving him on the street that would put her in such a state.

They rode the elevator in the same fashion, her hand tightly encased in his. When the requisite ding announced their floor, Jane made to extract her hand from his. But he didn't let her let go. He held on firmly, pulling her out of the elevator.

Mayfair caught his eye from across the floor, but he dismissed her with a slight shake of his head. Opting to pull Jane straight into the locker room.

Once inside, she automatically sat down on one of the benches.

Weller moved around her, trying to think of any way he could help alleviate the lost look that haunted her gaze. He grabbed a towel from the rack and dug through her locker to find a fresh set of clothes. He placed everything on the bench nearest the showers. As he was hunting for soap and shampoo, her voice cut through the thick silence that surrounded them.

"This is where I was when decided to come see you tonight."

"What?" Weller said, confused.

"Patterson," Jane mumbled. "She found me as I was getting ready to leave. She was so upset about David. That she pushed him away." She paused, meeting his eyes. "I was doing that to you and I didn't… if I never got the chance…" she looked away as fresh, silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Listen," Weller responded as he dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his hands around her shoulders, "I'm here. I'm here with you." She nodded, still unable to meet his eyes.

He pulled his jacket, then hers, off her shoulders, leaving her in just her tank top. "Let's just get you warmed up and into some dry clothes. Then we'll figure everything out."

He pulled her boots off her feet and led her over to the showers. He turned on the hot water full blast and gestured for her to take over.

"I'm going to go brief Mayfair," he explained as he inched towards the door. "Once you're finished, just head out to the floor. I'll be waiting there for you, okay?"

She stared at the pulsing water and nodded slowly.

With that, he turned and left her there.

Jane wasn't exactly sure how long she stood outside the showers, but by the time she got out of her head long enough to fully realize her surroundings, the room was filled with steam. She crossed her arms, lifting her tank and sports bra from her body simultaneously. She winced at the pain in her shoulders... ran her hands lightly over the raw skin that circled her wrists. Being tied down in such an awkward position for so long had its consequences. She dropped her shirt on the floor, stepped out of the rest of her clothes and walked towards the warm spray of water.

She stood with her back to the shower head and let the water cascade over her shoulders and back. It was just a touch too hot, but it felt wonderful against her bitter cold limbs.

Unconsciously she turned to let the water run down her face, but as it hit her lips she instantly started to choke. The feel of the wet cloth against her face as Carter practically drowned her over and over again came back. Panic set in and Jane shrank to the floor, her back up against the wall, the water hitting the tiles in front of her. She buried her face in her knees and began sobbing uncontrollably, finally releasing the pent up fear, anger and confusion from her abduction experience and Oscar's personal revelation.

Weller hadn't made it two steps out of the locker room when Mayfair cornered him.

"What's going on, Weller?" she demanded.

"Honestly, I don't know," he replied. "Jane hasn't been able to give me anything and I'm trying like hell not to push her too far. I'm going to sit down with her once she's gotten into some dry clothes. Have they found anything at the scene?"

Mayfair gave him the rundown. The two men in the hallway had been identified as CIA operatives under Carter's command. Their actual intent for Jane was still unknown.

Weller walked her through the state he had found Jane in, and surmised that Carter had been trying to get information out of her.

"I can only assume he thought she knew something more than she did," Weller suggested. "With all of the government corruption these tattoos have been leading us to, maybe he thought she knew something she shouldn't."

Mayfair's lack of response made Weller think that his guess was spot on.

"Does this have something to do with Daylight?" he asked.

A knowing look crossed Mayfair's face, but before she could reply, the shout of his name from across the room had him turning.

"Agent Weller!"

He couldn't remember the junior agent's name, but she knew his, and was hurrying toward him across the room.

"What's going on Agent?" he demanded.

She hesitated, looking back and forth between him and Mayfair. "I… I think Jane needs some help," she offered, glancing back toward the locker room.

Weller glanced down at his watch and realized he'd left her in the locker room over 30 minutes ago. She should have been out by now.

"Do you want me to…" Mayfair offered, but Weller cut her off.

"I got this," he said. "Thank you Agent. Could you have someone get some coffee and some food into the conference room for me please?"

The junior agent nodded and hurried away.

"I'll be right back," he told Mayfair. "Maybe we should call Dr. Borden in."

"I'll call him right now," she replied as he headed back towards the locker room.

The entire room was filled with a steamy fog. The sauna-like temperature quickly brought sweat to his brow. He walked slowly through the cloudy air, dodging benches and gym bags.

The shower head he'd turned on was still running full force, her discarded clothes littered the floor, but he didn't see Jane anywhere. He rounded the chest-high wall that separated the shower area from the lockers with the intent to turn off the water, instead, he found her curled in the corner.

He had seen her like this before. Maybe not in person, but like everyone else on his team, he's spent endless hours studying every inch of her body. In some ways, he felt like he knew hers better than he knew his own. He'd be lying to himself if he said he'd never thought about seeing her this way, but he forced himself to stay clinical, not wanting to take advantage of her vulnerability.

"Jane…" he whispered, not wanting to scare her.

Her head shot up, eyes meeting his. A silent sob escaped her lips as she shook her head.

"I'm sorry…" she mumbled, as a violent shake ran through her entire body. She hugged her knees tighter, attempting to make herself as small as possible.

He reached for the knob and turned the water off.

"Jane, it's okay," he said, his heart fracturing further with each of her breathy exhales.

He grabbed the towel off the bench and knelt down in front of her.

"C'mon, let's get you dressed."

He grabbed her by the elbows, lifted her to a standing position and immediately wrapped the towel around her body. She sagged against the wall, but stayed standing. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the benches, to the pile of clean clothes he'd left out for her.

As she reached for the pile Weller turned in the opposite direction, trying to give her as much privacy as he could without leaving her alone again. His ears were acutely attuned to her every movement as she slowly got dressed. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been for the second time that night. First... letting her walk home alone, and now, practically shoving her into the shower by herself after she'd just nearly drowned.

A sharp hiss suddenly had him turning. He was faced with her back. He scanned her skin, imagining the bruises that were already forming, hidden below the tapestry of color that covered them. He watched for a second as she struggled to get her shirt over her head, then was instantly up and over to help her pull the fabric down.

"Thanks," she whispered as she unconsicoulsy rubbed her shoulders.

Not knowing exactly what to do now that she was fully dressed, he grabbed her brush from her locker, and handed it to her. He caught her eyes in the exchange, and for the first time since she'd left him on the street, he could see a bit of her again.

"I'm sorry I'm not handling this better," she said as she pulled the brush through her hair, "I'm really embarrassed that you had to…"

"No, it's my fault Jane," Weller gruffly replied, upset with himself that she'd even feel the need to apologize. "Carter tortured you… almost drowned you, and then I sent you in to take a shower by yourself. How stupid can I be?"

She could see the guilt all over his face, but it was she who was guilty. If she hadn't snuck out… no, if she hadn't wiped her own memories to align herself with the FBI, none of this would have happened. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him… not here… not now.

"Thank you for pulling me out of there," she offered instead, pleading with her eyes, making him understand that she accepted his apology.

He nodded, having nothing else to say.

He sat with her as she put away her things. When she ran out of tasks to complete, she turned to look at him.

"I have some food and coffee in the conference room for you," he offered. "And Mayfair and I have some questions… if you're ready."

She knew she wasn't, but she also knew she couldn't stall any longer.

"Can I have just a minute?" she asked. "I promise I'll be right out."

He searched her eyes, and upon finding the truth in her statement, he nodded and walked out of the locker room.