Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. I'm just borrowing the fantastic characters so I can play with them a little bit.

A/N: Thank you all again for all the love you've given this story. For those of you who've read my Blindspot story I See You, you should recognize the setting at the end of this chapter as one of the scenes I added to the events of the pilot in that story. It just seemed to tie together nicely. (Speaking of I See You, I promise to update that one soon. I had a chapter about half done when my mind was completely taken over by this story)

Kurt turned the key in the lock on the door to his apartment, bracing himself for the onslaught of questions from Sarah. He pushed the door open slowly, eyes down, and when he looked up into the living room, he saw her turn toward him, relief the most visible emotion on her face. Sawyer jumped up immediately from where he sat beside her on the couch near the Christmas tree. Evidence of his stocking having already been opened was, well, everywhere.

Sawyer ran at him full speed, slamming into him with a hug. "Merry Christmas, Uncle Kurt! Where were you, anyway?" Weller grimaced, looking down at his nephew and awkwardly returning the hug as best he could, considering their height difference.

"Hey, buddy! I had something I had to take care of. I'm glad I didn't miss all the presents, though." His smile, and what enthusiasm he could muster, were completely forced and didn't reach his eyes, but he did his best for his nephew's benefit. After all, the kid was nine years old, and Christmas was still a very exciting time. He glanced up at Sarah, who was watching him intently. He knew that he wasn't going to escape her questions, and that it was only a matter of time before he'd have to tell her something. He wondered how little of the actual truth he could get away with confessing, and how much of it he was even willing to divulge. After all, what he really needed was to sort things out in his head, figure out what the hell he was going to do.

Sawyer let go of him but then immediately grabbed Kurt's hand, mercifully the unbandaged one, pulling him toward the couch. "Uncle Kurt, look at all the cool stuff over here!" Weller was pretty sure the kid had stopped believing in Santa the previous year, but as most kids know, when you start yelling too loudly about not believing in Santa, he's less likely to leave presents. So Sawyer showed him the things that "Santa" had left in his stocking, all the while throwing knowing glances at his mother, who feigned innocence. Kurt had settled next to Sarah on the couch, and had immediately noticed her eyeing his bandaged hand. She leaned over and whispered, "We're going to talk about that," but left it at that. Kurt just nodded, knowing that his sister would not take "no" for an answer.

Within a few minutes, Sawyer had done a complete inventory of the contents of his stocking for Kurt's benefit, at which point he picked up his uncle's stocking and brought it over to him, holding it out gleefully. "Open it, Uncle Kurt! I'm dying to know what you got!" The smile on the boy's face was contagious, and despite having absolutely no interest in his stocking or anything else he was going to have to do that day, he took the handful from the smiling boy in front of him. Whether he believed in Santa or not, Christmas was a very special time for a kid.

He could feel Sarah's eyes on him as he pulled each item out of his stocking, trying for the appropriate level of excitement, thankful for Sawyer's happy face bobbing in front of him, reminding him to smile even though it seemed impossible. This was harder than any investigation he'd ever undertaken, any situation when his life had been in danger. No, focusing on what was happening in front of him just then was actually physically painful, because his chest felt like it was going to burst, and all he wanted to do was shut himself in his room and try to process what he was feeling, figure it all out. Though he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what had actually been in his stocking if he had been asked immediately afterwards, he managed to get through all of the contents with a level of excitement that Sawyer seemed to feel was appropriate.

He'd just put it all to the side and sighed with relief when there was a knock on the door. He looked at Sarah, confused, and she just stared back at him with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

Sawyer jumped up again, and shouted, "Mom! Grandpa's here!" Sarah got up and followed her son to the door, throwing a warning look over her shoulder at her brother. Weller groaned inwardly. His relationship with their dad was tenuous at the very best, after years of estrangement. Of all the people he did not have the energy to deal with today, his dad was pretty much at the top of the list. Still, it was Christmas, so it was a given that he had no choice, and he forced himself off the couch and part way across the room, coming to a stop by the kitchen table. He didn't need to crowd the entryway, after all, because there was only so much room by the door. At least that was his reasoning for remaining where he stood.

He tried to pull his face into an expression that resembled something friendly, but he had a feeling that he was failing miserably. He told himself that he could get through this. They'd spend a few hours chatting and opening presents, have their big meal early in the afternoon, and then he could only hope that he could excuse himself and get out of there.

It was going to be a long day.

Several painful hours later, Weller checked his phone and saw a text from Mayfair. Sarah had been watching him like a hawk all day, and that moment was no exception. They'd opened all of the presents and eaten and made small talk, and Sawyer was now sitting with his grandpa, attempting to teach him how to play a video game that he'd unwrapped at some point. It seemed like this might be the moment when he could reasonably escape. He held up his phone as he stood up, picking up his jacket and trying to look nonchalant, as though he hadn't been planning his escape all day.

"I gotta go take care of something for work," he told Sarah as she followed him to the door.

The look on her face screamed disbelief and annoyance. "Really, Kurt? On Christmas Day? You can't get them to leave you alone even for one day?" She sighed in exasperation. As frustrated and numb as he felt, he could understand her displeasure, and he imagined that if he was her, he'd feel the same way. After all, she didn't know what he was dealing with. He tried to keep as much of his work from her as he could, mostly to protect her, but also because a lot of it was classified, so he really couldn't tell her. And this whole thing with Jane? Even before the events of the past twenty-four hours, he hadn't been able to explain it to himself, must less Sarah.

Sarah was accustomed to him not being able to give him any real answers, and even to the demands of his job, but she always got snippy when the job intruded on the holidays. She was the matriarch of the family, after all, and prided herself on trying with all her might to hold what was left of their family together. At the same time, she was so proud of her brother. She couldn't begrudge him the fact that he had such an important job… at least, not too much.

He sighed apologetically, wishing that he could tell her something, but knowing that a small part of the story wouldn't be enough for her, especially when the truth involved Jane. He looked her directly in the eyes, hoping that he looked sincere but feeling like all he was conveying was exhaustion. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I wasn't supposed to be on today, but… well, you know how it is…" At least that much, that he hadn't been scheduled to work today, had been the truth. And she did know how it went with his job. It was far from the first time he'd had to run out at a time when she wanted him to stay.

Sarah sighed and smiled at him sadly. "I know, it's not easy having a superhero for a brother. Alright, Captain America, go out and save the world. We'll talk about that" she looked down at his bandaged hand again, "later." He smiled weakly back at her, suddenly feeling even guiltier than he already had that he couldn't share more with her. She tried so hard to take care of him, and he made it so very difficult.

"Thanks for understanding," he whispered gratefully. "I don't know how long I'll be, but I'll see you later." She nodded, smiling at him warmly, and was momentarily surprised when he leaned down and kissed her cheek quickly before reaching for the door and walking through it. She stared after him suspiciously as he disappeared down the hall, wondering what exactly was going on with her brother. He had always been so hard to read, ever since Taylor had disappeared when they were little.

Now Taylor was back, except that she was Jane now… it was all so confusing. The only thing she knew for sure was that since Taylor, or Jane, or whoever she was, had shown back up in her brother's life, he had been different somehow. She couldn't help but think that whatever was going on today, it had something to do with her. Just call it a hunch. No matter, she'd question him eventually, and either he'd tell her, or he'd stonewall her like he usually did. She just hoped that everything was okay with him.

Weller watched the elevator doors close and exhaled loudly as he sagged back against the cold metal wall for the short ride to the lobby of his building. His family had been exhausting to deal with when all he had so desperately wanted was to retreat inside his own head, and yet, at the same time, in a way it had done him good to be distracted for a while. He felt calmer than he had that morning, less volatile, less likely to punch anything… at least at that moment.

He found where his car was parked in front of his building, and climbed into the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt but not moving to turn on the engine. Thinking back on the last twenty four hours, he realized that his car shouldn't even have been at his building, and contemplated how it had gotten back there. It had been parked at Jane's safe house after he'd driven over there the previous night, and Zapata had driven him home that morning. He could only assume that they'd had someone move his car back to his building. Mayfair was always looking out for him like that.

He sighed heavily, looking out at the street outside of his car. There were fewer people out today because of the holiday, but there were people coming and going nonetheless. He watched them, envying the simplicity with which he could only assume that they lived their lives. After all, there couldn't be too many people whose problems were quite as complicated as his… Then again, he told himself, everyone thinks their own problems are worse than other people's. It's just human nature. He rested the back of his head on the headrest behind him and exhaled slowly, attempting to make sense of the day.

He sat there for five or ten minutes, allowing himself to be lost in vague thoughts that weren't leading anywhere in particular, except perhaps to driving himself crazy, when his phone beeped in his pocket. He'd forgotten that he'd had a text from Mayfair earlier that he hadn't had a chance to read. He pulled his phone out now and opened the earlier message.

It read, She withdrew $100 from the ATM by her safe house at 5 am, but otherwise we have no other leads yet.

He felt frustration growing inside him, and he quickly clicked to the new message, also from Mayfair, sent just a minute before. It read, Nothing new yet, but we are working on it. We're going to find her, Weller.

Kurt sighed again and closed his eyes. Mayfair knew him too well. She was not a woman to give false assurances, and she knew that he was not the kind of agent who needed his hand held when things got difficult. However, it was clear that she also knew how he was going to react in this particular situation, and she was giving him just a little more reassurance than she usually would. The pain in his chest intensified again. He was exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions he'd been on that day, and he couldn't even bring himself to feel angry anymore.

Had she betrayed him? Now that he could be somewhat rational, it was time to sort through the facts. He supposed that it depended on how you looked at it. If he could see Jane as two different people – Jane before and Jane after, then no, she hadn't. If he saw her as one person, just Jane (keeping that name even though it hadn't been hers before, just for simplicity), then obviously she had betrayed him.

He knew that she'd been telling him the truth when she'd said that she didn't remember who she'd been, all those months when she had desperately wanted to remember… how ironic, then, that now that she had learned even a little bit of the truth, it had been every bit as bad as she'd feared, possibly worse. Surely, she had never expected this particular outcome.

But hadn't he himself been the one to tell her on more than one occasion that she didn't have to be the person that she'd been back in the time that she didn't remember? That she could make new choices and be whoever it was that she wanted to be? He had said that, and he'd meant it. So wouldn't it be rather hypocritical of him now to hold her responsible for something that she had no memory of doing, after telling her that she couldn't do that to herself? Yes, it certainly would, he realized.

What's more, knowing her, she was probably beating herself up more than enough over this as it was. That was why she'd left. She always seemed to shoulder the blame for things, even when she shouldn't.

Just like you. The coincidence wasn't lost on him.

Now, thinking back to the night before, it all made sense. That was exactly what she'd been doing, when she wouldn't, or couldn't, tell him why she was so upset. He shook his head slowly. Had that been only last night? It felt like a lifetime ago.

She felt like she'd betrayed you, and she couldn't bear it. Suddenly, it was all so clear. Why hadn't he seen it before?

You couldn't see it at first, because last night you didn't have all of the information, and then this morning you were so angry, you wouldn't let yourself see it. He hung his head, wondering what he could have done differently that would have meant that she wouldn't have run. She'd been afraid of his reaction. And rightly so, he thought, looking down at the bandage on his hand. And now she's out there somewhere, thinking that you'll never forgive her, and…

He couldn't even finish the thought. He had to find her, had to tell her that he wasn't angry with her. Not anymore. He couldn't let anything happen to her. She had been through more than enough, and now she'd forced herself into exile. No, he had to find her.

Just like that, he had the car started and put into gear, and he was pulling out into the street, now filled with a desperate need to find her somehow. But how? Where? The city was huge. Where would he start? He considered getting in touch with Mayfair, but decided that she'd probably just tell him that they had it under control, and that they'd keep him updated. But Jane was out there, and there was no way he was going to just sit around and wait to be updated.

Without really thinking about it, he drove to Jane's safe house, and then started driving in an expanding grid outward from there. It seemed unlikely that she'd been too close by, but he had to start somewhere, and that was as good a place as any. He felt better, if suddenly slightly crazed, like he had been awoken in the middle of a strange dream and only just realized something that he should have known all along.

Hours later, he'd seen a whole lot of the city, but no sign of Jane. It didn't surprise him, really. The chances of running into her randomly were almost zero. No, he had to think. If anyone knew her, it was him. If anyone should be able to figure her out, it should have been him. So what was the lead that he should follow?

He sighed, and pulled the car up along the curb. He'd happened to be near one of his favorite spots in the city, a small scenic overlook of the Hudson River with a view of the Statue of Liberty in the distance. There was nothing spectacular about it, and it was often full of tourists… but maybe that was why he liked it. It tended to be full of life. People there, enjoying themselves, all different kinds of people. It was a great spot for people watching. Many people expected him to dislike such a pastime, since he spent so much time analyzing people as part of his job, but on the contrary, he enjoyed it immensely. Besides, he needed to get out of the car for a while and clear his head anyway.

Weller had been in the car for hours, and the temperature outside had dropped a little more than he'd expected. It had been unseasonably warm for the past few days, but still, the air was chilly as he walked toward the water. It was dark now, so the crowds had thinned and it was quiet, the lights from the buildings across the water, and the distant shape of the Statue of Liberty, lighting up the darkness with pinpricks of light. He leaned on the railing and, wondering if he would regret it, thought back to the previous time he'd stood in that very spot.

He'd been standing there next to Jane on the first day they'd met. After endless hours of interrogation, the FBI had had the audacity to "forget" to prep a safe house for her, and no one had noticed until Weller had inquired about it. Mayfair had told him that she'd let him know as soon as it was ready, and he didn't have the heart to make Jane sit in that sterile interrogation room any longer. Instead, he'd told Mayfair to text him when the safe house was prepped, and he'd brought her here.

It had been dark that time, too. He remembered it like it was yesterday, though months had passed since then. Back then he couldn't possibly have imagined all the things that would happen to the two of them, or between the two of them, for that matter. At the same time, in some ways he had felt like he'd known from the first day. It was something about her eyes, he thought.

Funny, he mused, I don't feel like the same person I was that day anymore.

Suddenly he was once again overwhelmed by the weight of it all, and as he leaned against the railing, he dropped his head and closed his eyes, exhaling loudly. It can't end like this, he pleaded silently. It just can't.

Not too far away, in the shadow of a cluster of trees, a figure dressed in black watched Weller carefully, reading his every movement as best she could in the dark, trying to assess his body language for signs that would tell her what she needed to know. She had lasted exactly one day, and now she had already broken down and practically turned herself in. It was so tempting, with him right there in front of her. Still, though she wanted nothing more than to go straight over to him and find out once and for all whether he would be able to forgive her, she was afraid… because what if he said no?

She continued to watch him as he stood against the railing with his head down almost to his chest in front of him. She couldn't see his face, but his posture made it appear that he wasn't so much angry as… sad. She wished there was a way to be sure, however.

Such a coward, the voice in her head taunted her.

I'm not ready, she protested.

It was quickly becoming clear to her that despite her intentions when she had left in the middle of the previous night, she was not going to be able to stay away from him. Not when there was so much uncertainly. If he hated her, and he sent her away, that would be one thing. But not knowing for sure whether he had forgiven her or not… she couldn't stand it. The chance that she didn't have to banish herself after all was just too tempting an idea to let go of it completely. She had apparently underestimated the pull he had on her, and overestimated her ability to just walk away from him.

Still, she remained in the shadows, simply watching. In one way, even just seeing him at a distance helped to calm the ache in her chest that she'd been trying to push aside all day long. In another way, however, it only made her feel worse. At the moment he didn't seem irrationally angry. He'd been there looking out at the water for at least an hour when he suddenly straightened up and then, without a backward glance at the water, started walking back to his car. She remained where she was, following him with her eyes. This was her chance, and yet… she couldn't bring herself to move. Would she get this chance again? Suddenly she was panicked, frozen with indecision.

She wanted to chase after him, but…

The voice in her head was right. She was a coward. She exhaled a shaky breath as she watched him go, wondering if she would get this chance again.

The stop at the waterfront had done him good, but after a while he knew he was wallowing in thoughts that weren't going to help him, and he decided that he needed to leave. He'd had the strangest sensation that he was being watched while he stood there, but he decided he was just exhausted and it was making him paranoid. He decided that he'd drive around for a little while longer and then head home, hoping that Sarah would have gone to bed and that he could avoid that conversation for tonight. What he really needed was to sleep at least a little and try to decide what he was going to do next.

He was at a loss. Maybe he'd have to just show up at the office tomorrow and make Mayfair realize that he was ready to be back on the investigation. That would be his back-up plan. He glanced once more at the waterfront before he shifted the car into gear. As far as he could see, it was just as empty as it had been a few minutes ago. He sighed heavily and pulled the car out onto the street, into the thinned out traffic of the city.

When she lost track of Weller's silhouette around the corner as he walked to his car, she slowly allowed herself to emerge from the shadow of the cluster of trees she'd been concealing herself behind. She couldn't believe that he'd come back here. They'd been here that first day together, back when she'd been so lost, and he'd offered her words of comfort and a friendly face. That had meant everything to her. Because of that, this place, to her, was the most peaceful place in the bustling city, the one she had sought out on purpose, hoping to find comfort here. Hoping that feeling closer to him by being here would dull the pain.

She hadn't expected to actually see him here. How often did he come here, anyway? She didn't feel like he could've been here much in the months since that day, because so much of that time had been spent with her, mostly at work. Would he come back here again? If so, how long would it be before that happened? Of course, she could march right into FBI headquarters whenever she wanted to, or wait outside his apartment building like she'd already done once before, but… if he came back here, she could watch him first, try to figure out more about how he was feeling. Figure out how she was feeling, for that matter.

Don't kid yourself, the voice in her head told her in an unamused tone, you know how you feel. She sighed to herself. It was true. Things had only become clearer to her in the past twenty four hours.

She walked slowly, trailing her fingers along the railing that ran parallel the waterfront, all the way to the spot where Weller had been a few minutes before. It was the same spot where the two of them had stood on the first day they'd met. Would she have done things differently then, if she'd known what she knew now? It was such a hard question to answer. Hindsight was always 20/20. It was a luxury you never got when you tried to look into the future.

And yet, when she really thought about it, she didn't think she would have changed much if she'd been given the chance. It was like she'd told Kurt in the letter that she'd written him: if all this was the cost of what she'd shared with him, of that perfect kiss between them, then she couldn't really have regrets. What she did feel, however, was… sadness. Emptiness.

Now that she was able to think more clearly about things, she wondered about the other woman that she'd been before. Clearly, she was someone remarkable in some way. But it wasn't her amazing skills that she wondered about. The one thing that she most wanted to know about that woman wasn't even her name. Not anymore. Maybe she'd been Taylor, maybe she hadn't.

The thing she most wanted to know now was why she had chosen Kurt, and what she had chosen him for. She wanted to believe that when she'd "chosen" him, her motives had been good ones. After all, all these tattoos seemed to be leading them toward solving crimes, righting wrongs. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The method that she'd used was a bit insane, of course, but had her intentions been good? What had made her choose Kurt? What had she learned about him from watching him? Had the "other her" known more about him that she did now? She felt almost jealous of herself at the thought of the possibility, which she knew was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it.

She sighed, knowing that she would probably have to accept that she would never get the answers to these questions. At least, not unless Oscar decided to reappear and suddenly tell her everything. Considering their last meeting, and the fact that she hadn't exactly don't what he – er, she herself – had asked her to do, this didn't seem extremely likely.

Shivering in the cold right air, she decided to walk for a while. Her swirling thoughts were leading her somewhere, she just didn't quite know where that would be. Not yet.

A/N: Hang in there with me guys, I don't think Jane and Kurt will be apart too much longer. I'll do my best to update just as fast as I've been doing throughout this story. I don't think I've ever been nearly this good about updating, but I'm a bit obsessed with this one myself! :)