Excellent response to my desire for input. You are all so fabulous and considerate with your responses.

A few of you mentioned that outings wouldn't be a fast solution and I absolutely agree… the team definitely has a few miles to go before we get to this point.

The excursions don't come in for a few chapters yet. I just like to be prepared and try to think of some good scenarios in advance.

...


...

Chapter 7

Old Friends in Old Places

...

"They should have told us as soon as they were done. I wanted to be there when Jane woke up; she should've had at least one familiar face." Zapata ranted as they stood outside of Jane's door.

Patterson nodded in fervent agreement, "Imagine how she must have felt— like we didn't even care enough to sit with her."

Kurt was frustrated as well but his mind was too full to deal with their disappointment; they were outside Jane's door and he couldn't turn back time. Now, was the moment of truth. A nurse was sitting on a chair next to the door, on call in case there was any need. She nodded reassuringly to urge them through the door.

Questions swirled around his brain… Would Jane recognize them? Would she speak? Would she even be aware?

Kurt paused, took a deep breathe and squared his shoulders before he pushed the door open. The room was dark with only the city lights filtering through the window. There wasn't much to see, it was a medical holding room with only a bed and dresser.

Surely we could do better than this for Jane…

"Oh no! Where is she?" Patterson gasped and pointed. They all froze as they took in the empty sheets and dangling IV cord.

Where is Jane? Did she run away? Did the CIA infiltrate the building and take her back? Oh God, someone FIND HER!

Reade reached over and flicked a switch to give them some more light. They filed further into the room to get a better look. It was then, that they spotted a bloody, bandaged foot peeking out from behind the bed. En masse, they slowly circled around and found Jane wedged between the bed and the wall.

She looked small.

Patterson couldn't hide the gasp as she took in her first sight of Jane.

Her body was swimming in a hospital gown and yards of white bandage. Underneath, Jane's gaunt limbs had wrapped themselves around her torso. She had to be cold. A small trickle of blood smeared her arm and gown where she had, apparently, pulled the IV out. The white-grey of the gown washed out her complexion but her eyes were vibrant peeping out from her messy curls.

Jane's gaze was measured but, in defiance of her appearance of calm, her back was arched defensively into the wall. Reaching out his arms, Kurt slowly stepped back and took the rest of the team with him. The whole pack of them looming around her was probably daunting. He hoped giving Jane space would help her relax.

But as the team moved back, the nurse that had been outside the door followed them in and pushed ahead.

"Miss Doe," the nurse tsked, "This is hardly conducive to healing. You need to get back into bed and I will reinsert the IV." She stepped forward brusquely already readying the IV and pulling the soft restraints back on top of the bed.

Kurt curiously moved closer. He fingered the soft material of the cuff and asked with deceptive gentility, "What are these for?"

"Oh, those are just a safety precaution. We find that patients that arrive from traumatic environments, especially if the trauma is compounded by extreme injury or malnourishment, can act irrationally. Miss Doe wore them before; she already pulled the IV out a few times in her sleep and we were afraid she might react aggressively while we examined her."

The nurse nodded sympathetically before continuing, "I had hoped she would be fine once she was conscious, but considering this," she gestured to Jane's unmoving form, "They seem to be the best course of action."

Kurt watched Jane throughout the nurse's explanation. He saw her eye the cuffs with resignation even as she shrunk further in on herself. Just the thought of Jane in restraints immediately brought him back to that dank dungeon and the sight of her blackened wrists.

No, just no.

"No." Kurt uttered aloud definitively. He untethered the restraints from the bed and crushed them in his fist.

"Assistant Directer Weller, I know that it looks…"

He froze the nurse's argument with a single glare, "No. Jane is scared and restraining her won't help. I will not condone this course of action," and he brushed her aside.

Kurt knelt carefully in front of Jane and tried not to wince as she subtly cringed away from him. "Jane, you are safe here, I promise." He felt like he was approaching an animal stuck in a trap, "You don't have to get in the bed if you don't want to and I won't let them put the restraints back on. But please let us put the IV back in; the antibiotics and saline will help you get well."

Kurt tried not to push as he waited for some kind of response. All he knew, was that after months of brutal interrogation, this had to be Jane's choice.


...

Jane hadn't been sure how she would feel when confronted by her old team. When they had taken her from the CIA black site, she had been half hallucinatory due to pain and lack of sleep. Now she was rested, her pain was numbed and her mind was more alert.

Jane thought she would be ready for anything. She was ready to be dragged out by her hair or to be beaten in a cruel barrage of hatred. She could handle physical pain, but she hadn't been prepared for this…

When the lock had finally clicked and the door silently swung open to let in a stream of light from the hallway, she tensed. Jane heard the dulled patter of their shoes enter then pause as they realized she wasn't in her bed. The room had flooded with the team came round the bed and found her, Jane couldn't help but drink in their presence. She let herself stare in the faces of the team she loved and missed… the team that despised her. Jane couldn't help it, she did miss them… they were her family.

They looked the same. Same faces and hair. Same clothes and expression quirks. It was almost as if no time had passed at all. Odd, but they masked their hatred well; maybe it's part of Quantico training. In fact, they looked concerned and strained.

Jane had been prepared for physical abuse but she foolishly hadn't steeled herself for a psychological strategy. She wrapped her arms tighter around her chest as if it would protect her heart. This could be so much worse, they had crueler and more capable weapons at their disposal— lies, false concern, and mock friendship.

The nurse's return was unfortunate. Jane listened with half an ear at the nurse's rambling reasoning to get her strapped back in the bed. Helpless. Jane waited to be hauled back into bed and forced back into the restraints. She almost preferred it; at least it would be predictable.

Instead, Weller argued with the nurse and ripped out the restraints.

His eyes seemed so sincere and kind as he tried to assure her and cajole her into letting them put the IV back in. As if she really had a choice. His eyes are dark, intense and full of things she couldn't have but couldn't help thinking about. Stop. Stop now. Stop!

She wasn't equipped for emotional warfare. She needed them to leave so that she could try to mend her damaged heart in peace. She needed time to re-strategize. Jane held out her bloody arm for the IV; anything to make them go.

When the nurse stepped forward to complete the task, Jane assumed— hoped and dreaded— that the team would leave… but they hovered in the background. Once the nurse left they shifted forward and sat down in a semi-circle around her.

Patterson spoke first, her hand reaching out reflexively as if she could bridge the divide between the team and Jane with her sincere smile, "Oh Jane," she breathed, "I'm so sorry. I should have tried harder to find you. Please don't hate me… Anything you need, I…"

Oh Patterson, you too? I never hated you… it would have made everything easier if I could.

Reade took Patterson's hand reassuringly and took over as he met Jane's eyes squarely, "Anything you need, Jane. We had no idea what was going on. It wasn't until Rich Dotcom tipped us off that we even found the black site's location… and you."

Rich Dotcom— what did he have to do with anything? They certainly came in with a game plan. At least they are all on the same page and are determined to be consistent.

"We understand if you hate us, Jane." Zapata's turn, "You have every right — but we would never have let the CIA take you if we had known that they would… torture you. But you' have to know that we won't let them take you again. You're safe now.

Even if that were true, what did you think that the CIA would do with me? House me in a suite and ask me nicely. I'm never safe and apologies don't take away months of agony. I don't need false promises, I just want to be left alone.

Kurt was quiet. He seemed content to let the team have their say.

Maybe he wasn't up for lies either.

It went around much the same. A chorus of apologies and cries of disgust at the underhanded tactics of the CIA. Jane's eyes drifted over each speaker but her expression never twitched. She had months of practice in concealing her emotions.

Honestly, she was torn. Jane loved the team's proximity and she hated it. It was lovely to be surrounded by them and be flooded with their concern and care. But it was heart wrenching to know that it wasn't real.

Jane understood why they did it, truly she did— they wanted answers. The people who planted her in the FBI were dangerous and Mayfair was dead — these were good and understandable motivations.

But good motivations didn't change the fact that they put her through hell. A good explanation didn't erase the torture sessions or the scars on her body. A genuine apology didn't mean that her heart could forget their actions. It still hurt, and she didn't know how much more she could take.

She leaned her cheek against the cool wall and stared at the flecks of blood on her knee until she heard the conversation drop off. One by one, the team stood and wished her good night. They all promised to see her the next day as they exited the room. All except one. Him.


...

Reade, Zapata and Patterson let the door shut behind them before the sagged against the closest wall. They had gotten to apologize and Jane seemed to have heard them. She stared and watched but she never responded.

Lost in their own thoughts they drifted aimlessly down the hall.

Reade carefully tidied his desk.

Someone on this team needs to stay practical about the Jane situation; I hate that it's always me. I don't want to start trusting her again in case she it turns out that she really is a liar… but if she was a liar do I really think that she deserved four months of torture? No matter what she did, if she even did do anything, she didn't warrant that. And seeing the impact… reading that report… sickening; she could be broken beyond repair anyway.

Zapata rested her forehead against the door of her locker as she tried to collect her thoughts.

It happened again. Years ago, her partner had died on her watch — she hadn't been paying attention and it came out of nowhere. And now Jane. She had been taken by the CIA on her watch and Tasha hadn't done a thing. She was a terrible friend and she didn't know how to fix it.

Patterson watched the clock in her office. She had already decided that she wasn't leaving.

All she could think about was that while she was lounging in the arms of a new boyfriend and all atwitter over a new relationship… Jane was beaten and burned and drowned. This team was family, they were supposed to be there for each other and they had failed Jane so spectacularly. And now Jane wouldn't even speak to them. It couldn't get any worse.


...

Kurt waited until the team left before he shuffled closer; they were almost knee to knee. Out of the corner of her eye Jane saw him staring at her. He didn't blink and his eyes were so full of emotion she was almost tempted to get a closer look.

Kurt's presence pulled Jane like gravity.

This man had been her starting point, her anchor when she had nothing. She had moments when she felt she was connected to him in a way that went so far beneath the surface. Like she understood him better than he understood himself - better than she even understood herself. Then all the certainty slid away and she was left clutching at air. She was left fractured.

"Jane?" She refused to acknowledge him or lift her head from the wall.

Kurt's hand rose from his knee and shakily extended out to her own hand that was resting on the floor. Watching her carefully, Kurt slowly lowered his hand and allowed his fingertips to travel up her fingers and over her knuckles until his hand covered her own.

Her eyes flickered to his face, but his full concentration was on the image of his large hand resting on her small, tattooed one. She felt chills travel up her spine at the sensation of his calloused thumb softly caressing the honeycomb tattoo.

Kurt tried again, "Do you mind if I just sit with you for a little while and talk?"

He didn't seem to expect a response and Jane's silence didn't stop Kurt from voicing his thoughts out loud.

"I was angry with you, you know. I blamed you for everything; Taylor, my dad, Mayfair… it was easier to blame the person that wasn't here than to really try to understand what happened. I'm sor—" his voice faltered, "I'm so sorry, Jane."

I'm sorry too, Kurt. For everything… for Taylor and your dad and for Mayfair. You were right the first time, it was all my fault.

"I can't get the image out of my mind— of you hanging in that basement. Your face just empty and the rest of you…" he shuddered, "I don't see how you will ever forgive any of us for that. I don't think I will ever forgive myself. You were in my care, you were on my team and I let you go without a fight. You deserved more from me."

I wished for more from you — but I didn't deserve it. You don't need my forgiveness, you only want my cooperation. Why are you saying all these things? What is the purpose of making me feel these things again?

"I should have let you explain. We were… I fell in love with you, Jane." Kurt paused as if unsure of her reaction, "I wasn't able to admit it until a few weeks ago, but it's true. I loved you. And when I found out you weren't Taylor— that you'd been lying to me… it felt like the ultimate betrayal. My feelings were so raw, I made a the worst decision. I was so angry at you, I just wanted you to suffer as much as I was."

Jane felt the unfairness of his comment like a slap. Her head snapped up.

Months ago those three words would have been a dream come true. Now they felt like razor blades going through her ears. How dare he use those words— how dare he use them as some sort of rationale for sending her to the CIA. How dare he use those words to manipulate her. How could he be so cruel?

That was it.

Jane's thinking splintered into raw instinct. Of its own accord her arm recoiled and propelled her clenched fist at his face. It landed with a crunch. With deep satisfaction she saw Kurt's eyes widen and the blood spurt out of his nose.

Jane gripped the edge of the bed and pulled herself onto her aching feet. She ignored his garbled protests and curled up in the bed with her back towards him. Desperate for any semblance of privacy she yanked the sheets over her head.

Jane was done with these two-faced comments and manipulations of her feelings to gain an advantage. This was going too far; was there no limit? At least the CIA didn't pretend to be anything but malicious — their tactics were brutal but overt.

She had already revealed too much but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words destroyed her. She waited for him to leave the room. Only once he was gone, did Jane allow her crushed heart to wallow in pity and regret. Underneath the cover of the sheets and darkness of the room, tears streamed down her face, salty and cold. She hadn't thought she was capable of tears anymore. Trust Kurt to do with a few words, what the CIA had been unable to do with months of torture.

He said that he had loved her.


Okay, that last scene just kind of appeared in my head while I was walking my dog. I ran home so fast to get it written down. And it just felt… right (sad, but right). I can just see that the scene with Kurt so vividly in my head, I hope it came across.

There was one scene that was very reminiscent of the first episode of season one. Did anyone notice it?


We are almost to a break through… the next chapter we will see time passing and some progress. I have some long-term plans for this story though, so if you are enjoying it — hopefully you will be pleased to know that I have a longer plot in mind.