Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
Moving as quickly as she could, Jane took a shower, pausing for just a few minutes under the hot water, soaking in the idea that she was at Kurt's apartment. It was strange to be taking a shower anywhere besides her safe house… The fact that she – they – would be spending the weekend at his family's house… that was almost beyond her comprehension, and just another thing on the list of so many things that she'd never thought that she would do, especially not after everything between them.
Kurt may not have been excited in the least to go back to Clearfield, but – though she wouldn't say it to him – Jane was looking forward to the trip. No, maybe 'looking forward to' was the wrong way to say it… maybe it was more curiosity to see the place where Kurt and Taylor had lived. After all, Sandstorm had put so much effort into making her Taylor Shaw, and she'd thought for so long that she was Taylor, even now, knowing the truth, she still felt some sort of connection with the little girl that Kurt had loved as a child, and the town where the two of them had lived and, they now knew, where she had died. Besides, Jane was just as much Taylor as she had ever been – which was to say, not at all. For some reason she felt like by going back there with Kurt, she would understand him better. An extra few days with him was a bonus, too.
While Jane was in the bathroom, Kurt did a quick inventory of the kitchen. Since Sarah had moved out, there had been significantly less food in the house. Since he spent most of his time at work, and did his fair share of eating out, there was little time for shopping, making it a lot more challenging to know what he'd be able to fix for the occasional means when he was actually at home. He wasn't home enough to warrant having much on hand, though he very much enjoyed cooking. One of these days, he always told himself, but he never really had a reason to change his habits.
But the chance to cook for Jane was an unexpected treat. He had smiled when he'd realized that he still remembered what she liked from back in the days, at the very beginning, when he'd appointed himself to help her figure out some of her favorite foods.
What happened to that guy? he asked himself. The one who not only thought about her wellbeing, but gave up a precious Saturday morning off to go over and make different kinds of eggs so that she would know which one she liked best?
He just woke up again, he told himself with a healthy dose of guilt. It was exactly like he'd told Jane. He remembered the past months, since the night he'd arrested her, but it was like having someone else's memories. That man… and the way he'd reacted to everything… it just didn't feel like him. The man he was now, with Jane… that felt like him. Now he had to work on making Jane believe in him again, which he knew would take a long, long time. He couldn't blame her. After all, look at what she had been through.
His mind wandered back to that morning at her safe house long ago. After trying four different kinds of eggs, he remembered, she'd settled on scrambled as her favorite. That was the last time he'd made them for her – he wondered if she would remember.
Probably not, he thought. But he remembered it fondly.
Then he wondered how so much time had gone by since then without his having made them for her again.
Let's not start that, he told himself. Time passes. Your job continuously demands everything from you, and sometimes even more than that. She doesn't expect things like that from you.
No, she expects nothing from me, he thought with a heavy heart, the realization stinging slightly. Because that's what I've been giving her. Nothing, or less than nothing.
You can't change that now, the voice in his head reasoned. Just do better from now on, remember? He nodded at his own sound logic, and promised himself once again that he would do just that.
Finally turning his attention to the almost empty refrigerator in front of him, he saw that there wasn't much in the way of food inside, but that he did have several important things. One of those things was eggs, and the second, in the freezer, was bagels. Of course, there was also coffee. He decided that, while not any kind of gourmet, this was pretty respectable. Besides, all things considered, that would probably be all he could get her to eat, anyway – if that much.
When Jane emerged from the bathroom a little while later, looking a little more relaxed, the food was just about ready. "Perfect timing," he told her as she stuck her pajamas and her toiletries back into her bag, then joined him in the kitchen.
She approached slowly, unsure exactly how close to get. Finally leaning back against the counter a few feet away from where he was moving eggs around in a pan, she stood and watched him.
"Can I help with anything?" Jane asked. Only seconds after that, the toaster popped loudly, making her jump just a little.
"Nope," he told her, shaking his head. "It's ready." He put half of the bagel on each plate that sat on the counter, then quickly spread butter on them before turning back to the eggs, turning off the heat for the burner and splitting them between two plates. He sprinkled a little bit of salt on the eggs, and then picked up the plates.
She was watching him carefully when he turned around, holding their breakfast plates. Not that he was doing anything fascinating, it was just… none of this seems real, she thought. Once upon a time she'd said those same words to him… But not like this. It hadn't been a good thing that time. Now… now was better.
"Hey, go—" He was about to tell her to go have a seat at the table, because the food was ready, but when he turned around holding the plates, there was a strange look on her face. Unable to tell whether she was lost in good thoughts or bad, or just thoughts, he took the few steps forward to where she leaned against the counter and stood for a second just looking at her. "Everything okay?" he asked.
If she'd hesitated a split second longer, he would have had the plates on the counter behind her so that he could focus only on her. However, her eyes snapped back up to his at the sound of his voice, and she realized that she'd spaced out for a second. Surprised – but not unpleasantly – that he was standing there right in front of her, she felt herself smile without even trying, and she reached up and took the plates from him.
"I got these," she said, looking into his eyes without blinking, "You have coffee, right?"
How did I forget just how much Jane loves coffee? he chuckled to himself. And given that she hasn't slept all that much in the last few months… it must have been more necessary lately than ever. The last part of his thought had veered over the line that he'd drawn in his mind, in an attempt to avoid the things in their past that it wouldn't help them to rehash, but he refused to dwell on it. He simply let it go.
"Of course," he said with a smile. He held onto the plates for an extra few seconds and they stood there, staring into each other's eyes.
Okay, stop smiling at her like an idiot and get the coffee, or she won't be smiling at you anymore, he told himself firmly.
This thought only made him chuckle, even though he knew that coffee was absolutely not a laughing matter for Jane. He loved that he remembered that little detail about her. No, it wasn't just that. He loved what the last twenty-four hours had changed things between them into.
You love her, the voice in his head pointed out helpfully.
Finally letting go of the plates and watching her take them toward the table, he turned around to pick up the mugs of coffee that waited for them on the counter and allowed himself to consider this idea... the idea that he loved her.
Maybe, he conceded to himself. It was more than he'd ever been willing to admit before when it came to Jane.
The voice in his head, who suddenly seemed to have developed a personality all his own, snorted in amusement. Maybe? it asked him sarcastically. Do you know how to recognize love? Because you have all the signs.
I love Sarah and Sawyer, he thought defensively. I know what it feels like.
That is not what I'm talking about, and you know it, the voice told him in annoyance.
He had known that, of course. It was different. He thought back over his past, which took only seconds. The only one whose face even appeared as a possibility was Allie, but he knew that what he felt for Allie wasn't love. He cared about her, of course. He wanted the best for her. They had a lot in common and a lot of history. But love? No. The rest of the women he'd dated, Nas included, failed to even appear before his eyes.
And then there was Jane… From the time he'd first known her and thought she might be Taylor, there had only been Jane. No matter what mistakes either of them had made, he could see now, with the benefit of hindsight, that there had only been Jane. Even when he'd gone back to Allie… No, there was simply no doubt. That could be a sign right there, he told himself.
When he turned around and saw her setting down the plates on the table, smiling at him, he knew that he was kidding himself. Of course he loved her. What's more, he always had. He saw that now.
Jane couldn't help but think about how nice it was have someone to eat breakfast with. To have someone to eat a meal with, period. Not that she'd been eating many meals lately, but if she had to eat, she was glad that she had Kurt for company. Never mind the fact that if not for him, she wouldn't have been eating anyway, or the fact that she'd been avoiding both meals and people on purpose for a while now. The fact was, she now remembered that she liked this.
When he sat down beside her and set the coffee on the table by their plates, she suddenly looked up at him as if she wanted to ask him something.
Does he remember that scrambled eggs were my favorite that day when he made them for me? Is that why he made them today? Or is it a coincidence? she wondered. He just smiled back at her, and she swore he was reading her mind… that he was also telling her that yes, he remembered. Somehow at this point, it wouldn't surprise her. Looking down at her breakfast with a smile that was suddenly more self-conscious, she ate the eggs first, remembering the day so long ago when she'd first had them.
Without even having to ask, he could see that she remembered. In fact, there was something special about the fact that neither of them had said a word about it, and yet it was obvious that both of them just knew.
They finished eating quickly, Jane not quite finishing everything he'd given her, but declaring that she couldn't eat any more. He certainly wasn't going to push her, not wanting to make her sick, and she'd done a very respectable job. At this point they were both very conscious that they were now far behind their original schedule. After all, it was already almost 9:45 am, and they weren't yet ready to leave.
Jane told Kurt to go take a shower while she cleaned up the few remaining dishes. He tried to protest, not wanting to leave Jane with the work, but when she mentioned how it would help them leave sooner, he gave in and let her finish up. Though it wasn't snowing outside yet, the clouds were beginning to gather, and they looked a little ominous. There wasn't much snow in the forecast for the city, but there was quite a bit expected before the end of the day in Clearfield.
With the dishes easily arranged in the dishwasher, Jane looked around the apartment that was so very perfect for Kurt. She walked up to a framed photograph to get a better look at it, finding a young Kurt standing between two teenage boys of about the same age. Jane could only assume were two of his friends. She looked at the picture, first just studying the younger version of Kurt, finding the ways that he looked the same, and then noticing the ways that he had changed over the years. For some reason, the picture held her attention far longer than she would have expected it to.
It must be nice, she thought, to know people. To have known people. The voice startled her, even though it was only in her own head, so much so that she looked around her quickly to be sure there really wasn't someone else there. No, it had been the voice in her head once again, the same one whose "helpful" observations often made it so hard to focus on the present, and on the good in her life. She knew that this was a train of thought that she really didn't want to board – she'd ridden it many times before, at it didn't lead anywhere she liked.
Still, staring at that picture, it was hard not to make the comparison. After all, the only people she knew – that she had ever known, as far as she remembered – besides Roman and Shepherd – consisted of the team, other people who worked for the FBI (none of whom she knew more than just by name, if that), or the people who they'd arrested or questioned in the cases that she'd worked since she'd crawled out of that damn bag. She did not remember going to school, growing up – other than a very few terrifying, black and white flashes of herself as a child – having friends… none of it.
It was times like this that she wished she could just stuff herself back in the bag and just…
No, she told herself. Stop it. You're not helping anything. Turn around and walk away from the picture.
She'd been so busy in her own head that she hadn't heard Kurt walk up beside her, wondering what she was looking at. There was a look on her face that told him that she was thinking hard about something, and that she probably hadn't even noticed him approaching her. When he stopped, he tried to stand at a ninety degree angle to her but with several gaping inches between them, to get into her line of sight. Even now, walking up behind her could be dangerous, since her reaction time was so fast – and after the CIA, she'd been known to overreact when someone approached her unexpectedly. Still, even though he'd tried to stop in her line of sight, he didn't think she was aware of his presence.
"Cousins," he said in answer to the question that she hadn't even known she'd wanted to ask. "Or second cousins. I don't even know. Sarah liked that picture, so she printed it out and put it up. Any pictures you see around here, that's basically Sarah. I'm not big on them, myself. Especially not from when I was young. There…" he paused, but decided that there was no reason not to tell her. She knew him so well, after all. "There wasn't much I wanted to remember about that time."
Jane had looked at him in surprise when he'd started talking, thankfully registering who he was and what he was doing there before her instinct told her to defend herself. Now she smiled sadly, nodding, feeling the full irony of his words. He hadn't wanted to remember. She had only wished that she could… and then once she had started to remember, and had had more of her memory filled in by Roman and Shepherd, she'd thought that maybe not knowing had been better. So now they had that in common, really.
His eyes moved back and forth, from the picture to Jane. Something about the picture had triggered something in her mind. He couldn't tell quite what it was, and he watched her quietly for some kind of sign, some kind of cue as to how to react.
At the same time, her eyes moved back and forth as well, from Kurt to the picture and back again, as she watched him morph from teenaged Kurt into the Kurt that she knew before her eyes. It was fascinating. After all, she'd never watched anyone grow up before – that she could remember, anyway.
After a long minute or so she nodded, feeling oddly comforted by the fact that the boys in the picture were his cousins, for some reason. Kurt in a picture with cousins or second cousins that he didn't even seem to know very well, from a long time ago was, somehow better than Kurt in a picture with a couple guys who'd been friends of his, even a long time ago. It made the disparity between the two of them, between what she had – nothing and no one – and what he had less depressing. She might have cousins out there somewhere, after all. Even if she didn't remember them, they would still be her cousins. If she'd had friends, on the other hand – though based on the stories she'd heard about her past, Remi didn't seem like the type to have had "friends," not in the way that Jane thought about friends, anyway – well, it was hard to consider someone your friend if you couldn't even remember that they existed.
"You okay?" he asked her uncertainly, watching as she finally turned toward him and smiled. Whatever hold that picture had had over her, it seemed that he'd managed to break it.
"Yes," she replied, happy to have a reason to focus on something else, and even happier that that something was Kurt.
"Okay, we just need to make sure we have everything in terms of snow gear," he said, walking back toward the coat closet and taking out a box labeled "Winter." He carried it back over and pulled out one of the dining room chairs, where he set it down. Beside it, on another chair which he'd also pulled out, now sat yet another duffle bag. "Starting from the top, so we don't miss anything," he said with a grin. "Hats." She watched as he tossed three hats into the duffle bag, seemingly at random.
"Why three?" Jane asked curiously. "There's only two of us."
"Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it," he replied. "Actually, grab two of those back out. We should wear those. Even just getting back to the car will be more bearable if we're dressed more warmly than we were last night."
Jane nodded in agreement, pulling out two of the three hats. One was plain black, the other a dark blue with white snowflakes scattered randomly across it. The one she left inside the bag was a dark green, once again plain except for one white reindeer in the middle. Both of the ones that she picked up were perhaps the softest things she had ever felt. Whatever they were made of, she wanted a blanket made of that. No, she wanted everything made of that. She set the black one on the table beside them, and put the blue one on her head.
"Next," Kurt continued, "Scarves." He pulled out scarves that seemed to match the three hats that he'd just chosen, so the kept the sets together – the green one in the duffle bag, the black one on the table for Kurt, and the blue one draped behind her neck and over her shoulders. She didn't like it quite as much as the one Kurt had wrapped around her neck the night before, but she thought that maybe it wasn't really the scarf that she had liked, but the fact that he had wound it around her and then used it to pull her closer. Without realizing it, she smiled at the thought.
When she noticed that he was watching her, she felt herself turn a little bit pink and tried to think of something to say to distract him from whatever she'd just given away. "So, what's next?" she asked quickly.
"Well," he said, "we're good with sweaters and that sort of thing. We both have several in our bags, and we're each wearing them…" Looking down at Kurt's sweatshirt that she had on, she grinned again and almost missed the end of his sentence. "…so the next layer is fleece." He noticed that she seemed to have just remembered she was wearing his sweatshirt, and watched in amusement as she smiled as she looked down at it.
Turning her attention back to him quickly, she blushed when she realized that he was watching her so closely.
Kurt said nothing, just walked back to the closet, where he pushed various jackets out of the way until he found one that he was looking for. "Here's one," he said, pulling out a black fleece, "and another other," he added, pulling out an almost dark identical grey one, both of which looked huge to her.
Because they're Kurt's size, silly, she told herself.
"I think Sarah had left one in here, which would probably fit you better than mine," he said, putting the first two under his arm so that he could use two hands to search the relatively crowded closet more easily.
She walked over to him and tugged at the two fleeces gently. "Let me take those, it'll be easier," she told him. He looked down at her then, smiling at her thoughtfulness, and their eyes locked for a few seconds.
"Thanks," he said, lifting his arm slightly to release the two jackets.
"Of course," she replied warmly, glad that she could do something to help, not just stand there and watch him. Not that standing there watching him was a bad thing… In fact, they both stood smiling at each other for a few extra seconds, neither one wanting to give up the sudden proximity, even though they weren't actually touching.
He had the urge to put an arm around her, or even better, both arms, and pull her closer, but they needed to get their things in order and get on the road. It wasn't as though he was taking her home, he reminded himself. They had the whole weekend to… he didn't even know how he wanted to finish that thought. We have the whole weekend, period, he thought. The rest of it doesn't matter.
After what felt like far too little time, she stepped away from him with the fleece jackets and walked back toward their staging area at the table, while he continued looking for Sarah's fleece. Really, she was more than willing to wear one of his, simply because it was his, but logically it did make more sense for her to wear Sarah's – if he could find it…
It only took another minute before he found it, buried between two of his larger jackets. Jane reminded herself that she was not disappointed, and was immediately distracted again just looking into his eyes. "Here you go," he told her, walking back to the table with it and holding it out to her. She took it from his hands, though she was focused completely on him, but then looked down at it in surprise. It was white, and even softer than the other two.
"Wow," she said, fingering the soft fabric in awe.
"Yeah, it was always Sarah's favorite," he said, smiling at Jane's reaction. "I was surprised when she left it behind. It may not have been on purpose."
"Well, we can bring it and she can have it back," Jane said brightly.
Kurt stood there, surprised, for a second as he replayed what Jane had said. He hadn't meant to imply that they were returning it to Sarah, though it did make logical sense. No, he realized that as he'd watched Jane put on the hat and scarf so far, he'd automatically began to think of those things as hers. It hadn't even occurred to him that she wouldn't keep them. He forced himself to smile at her, even though he felt a twinge of sadness.
You're being a little… he didn't even know what to call himself just then. She was acting perfectly normally. They were going to see the owner of the garment in question, and Jane was pleased that she could return it to her. It made sense. So why did it make him feel sad to see her so completely willing to give it to Sarah?
Because you've watched her for months now, sacrificing and risking her own health and safety for everyone else, without hesitation, despite how badly everyone else was treating her, including you, he thought, feeling guilty once again. In your mind, you're giving her these things, and she's giving them away willingly. In her mind, she's borrowing them, so of course she's fine with giving them back.
He stopped for a second, surprised at this sudden revelation, then shook his head at himself. Even though he knew that Jane was being completely logical, and he was the one who was acting a little strangely, he felt his affection for her grow in that moment, and once again wished that they didn't have to keep focused on the task at hand.
When he looked back up at her, she'd put on the fleece and was beaming, looking at it almost in awe. "This is… Wow. I need to get one like this. I'll have to ask Sarah where she got it." He wanted to tell her that he thought he remembered, except that at that moment, he didn't remember anything. Between how happy she looked, zipping up the fleece jacket and running her hands over it, and how beautiful she looked just then, her green eyes sparkling with happiness, not tears this time, he couldn't bring himself to do anything except grin at her. He saw that she'd put the black fleece into "his" pile and the grey one into the duffle bag.
"I like this game," Jane said, looking up at him happily. "What's next?"
He chuckled as he looked into the closet once more. "Snow pants," he told her. She looked at him in confusion as he pulled out the overall style black pants, the same kind that Sarah had bought Sawyer to play in the snow in, but much, much bigger. "I only have one of these… sorry. We'll put it in the bag, because neither of us needs to wear that in the car. Sarah may have a spare one of those in Clearfield, if we end up needing it… She tends to over pack." He looked up at her sheepishly as she approached to take the garment from him. "Sorry."
"Sorry?" she asked in surprise. "For what? That you don't have extras of every single winter article of clothing? You're kidding right?" Shaking her head at him, she opened her mouth to speak, but after that she seemed to be at a loss for words, at least as far as he could tell.
Is he really apologizing to me for that? she wondered. After being willing to share not only his Christmas with his family with me, but basically his entire winter wardrobe? He's simply too much…
He thought about what she'd just said. He supposed he had sort of just apologized to her for not having an entire spare winter wardrobe that he could share with her. Well, when you put it that way it just sounds silly, he thought, blinking in surprise at Jane's words. She was right, he supposed, but… but he did regret not having snow pants to lend her. Hell, he would've given them to her if he had them. She could keep all the gear she'd just put on, as far as he was concerned. What good was it doing sitting in his closet, after all? And she needed it.
"Anyway," he said slowly, urging himself to move on to the next thing. "Next up, real jackets."
"Wait, more jackets?" Jane asked. "How many jackets do we need?"
Kurt chuckled at her, shaking his head in amusement. "It's all about having layers," he told her. "It's not like here. If we're out in the snow for any length of time… just trust me. You want a fleece and a winter jacket. And not a leather jacket, I'm afraid." That was when he noticed Jane's leather jacket, hung on the back of the chair beside her when she'd put on the fleece.
"Okay, yeah, that part I get," she said with a nod, looking fondly at her leather jacket. It was really the only "nice" thing that she owned, but she'd been shivering in it for a few months now, and she knew that it wasn't warm enough, even for winter weather in New York City, much less somewhere colder.
Kurt reached into the closet once again, coming back out with the winter jacket that she'd seen him wear a few times, on the coldest of days recently, as well as another one that looked similar, but not quite as big.
"I can't believe you have two of those," Jane commented, looking more than a little surprised.
"Oh, I don't just have these two," Kurt replied, walking over to hand them to her and then back to the closet to fish out another one. "I also have Sarah's 'second favorite jacket,' which she left here. I swear, I don't know how she didn't run out of money with all the shopping she did." He paused for only a few seconds before it dawned on him.
"Actually, I do know how she didn't run out of money. She lived with her brother for a year or so." He shook his head with a smile as he thought about Sarah. She was irritating at times, but she had taken good care of him. They were each other's only family, besides Sawyer, and she had always managed to keep them from drifting apart, no matter how hard he'd tried to push her away. Deep down, she'd known that he needed her.
"So you didn't charge her rent?" she asked teasingly, knowing that Kurt would never have done such a thing.
"She tried to pay rent at first," he said, thinking back to when his sister and nephew had first descended upon his apartment unexpectedly. He'd been overwhelmed at having them around, initially, but he'd gotten used to it, and now, though he wasn't sure he'd admit it to Sarah, he actually missed the company – some of the time, at least. It was nice to have peace and quiet after a long day, sometimes, but at the same time, it could be almost too quiet. He hadn't even noticed it, really, until last night, having Jane there. But having Jane there was even better than having Sarah and Sawyer.
"…but I just refused to accept money from her." He had, in fact, torn up her checks before her eyes, and more than once, until she gave up. After that, she simply bought all of the groceries, as well as whatever else she decided that he "needed." Thus, he had extras of everything, or felt like he did.
Taking Sarah's 'second favorite jacket' out of the closet, he handed it to Jane. This one was a pale green, not quite as bulky as Kurt's, but clearly made of the same high quality materials.
"You might not want to put that one on until we're walking out the door," he warned her. "You'll probably get too hot with it on in here, especially with everything else you have on already."
Jane nodded, setting the jacket down on the other side of her. She was definitely nice and toasty warm at that moment, so she didn't want to get any warmer until they were ready to go outside. "We've got to be done now, right?" she asked him, and was surprised when he shook his head.
"Nope, but almost," he said, bending down to the bottom of the closet and rummaging around in the semi-darkness. "Hmmm," she heard him say, then turned around and walked toward her, brushing close by her, though he didn't quite touch her on his way to the box labelled 'Winter.' She found that she was more than a little bit disappointed, and kept her eyes trained on him intently, now that he was standing so close to her – only a few feet away, at most.
Out of the box he pulled a pair of black boots. They looked huge at first, but when she looked down at his feet, it made sense. He was not a small guy, after all, and the boots were heavy duty. They looked very warm, and very heavy.
Turning them on their side, he set them into the duffle bag, then looked up at her. "I don't have another good pair like that for snow, but I do have…" he said, walking closely by her once again, and as he had when he'd passed her the first time. He wished that he had an excuse to brush against her.
You need an excuse? the voice in his head asked in confusion. Why?
We're just… not quite there, he told himself. Then, doubting himself, he began to wonder… Are we?
Reaching back into the bottom of the closet, he pulled out a significantly smaller pair of short boots, made of a fleecy type material. They looked more like Jane's size.
"These are Sarah's… They look like they might fit you. What size do you wear?" he asked, holding the boots out to her.
"Uh… eight? I think…" Honestly, she couldn't remember. It wasn't as though shoes or shopping or anything like that had been on her mind in the past few months… and really, she couldn't see how it ever would be again. She just really didn't care about any of it. The fact that she had only the pair of boots she was wearing – which were not winter boots whatsoever, just plain, black workman's style boots – and one pair of sneakers didn't bother her at all. The less she had, the less that could be taken away from her.
She shivered involuntarily at that thought. She knew that now wasn't the same as it had been before, that the chances of that happening again were remote… but it was always at the back of her mind. Doubt. Like a shadow that she just had to try to ignore as best she could.
"Looks like these are a nine," he said, checking the tag inside one of them. "So you may be in luck," he added, then shrugged apologetically. "I know it's not much, but I guess it's better than nothing."
He was surprised when she looked at him in what appeared to be shock, her mouth hanging open slightly for a few seconds before her head began shaking slowly back and forth.
"You're kidding, right?" she asked him quietly. She was surprised at the confused look on his face, and before she even thought about what she was doing, she took a half step towards him, stopping abruptly when she was suddenly standing within arms' reach of him. For a second she had simply forgotten that things weren't the same as they had been between them a long time ago, that they didn't just reach out for each other as casually as they once had. They'd done it, of course, but it had felt awkward. Though she kept her hands from reaching out towards him, they betrayed her nonetheless, fidgeting awkwardly in front of her. The urge to reach for him was strong, and yet… she didn't let herself.
Why are you fighting it? she wondered. The sensation she was feeling was similar to what she had felt at the party the night before, or on their way back afterwards. They stood so close together and yet, though the space between them was tiny and could easily have been bridged, because they weren't touching, it felt like there was a chasm between them. Either one of them could have reached across it, but neither of them did, for whatever reason.
She realized then why she was hesitating – it was simple, really. Her feelings for this man had already caused her immeasurable pain once – if you could call the past however many months it had been since that night that he'd arrested her 'once' – and, despite the sincerity in his eyes and his actions now, it was hard to forget the feeling of having been burned so badly before. After all, she simply had no defenses from him. Just a look from him was enough to make her forget her surroundings, for goodness sake. How could she protect herself, if it came down to that again?
He was still looking at her, and she realized that she'd forgotten to finish her thought out loud. She'd asked him if he was kidding, when he'd said that what he'd done for her wasn't much. "Look at all of this… I mean, I'm here, and not at my safe house alone… for a weekend. For Christmas. Of all weekends of the year, it's one of the most important ones…" To say that she was at a loss for words wouldn't be quite accurate, since she was actually still talking, but it was close. She couldn't understand how Kurt could possibly minimize what he was doing for her. Looking at him in disbelief once again, she simply shook her head.
And then he had that look on his face again, and she just knew that he was about to protest what she was saying – which he did. "I should have done it sooner… not this exactly, but something, anyway…" he said.
Jane closed her eyes tiredly. She realized that she couldn't do this again with him – not this soon, anyway. Really, she suddenly felt like they were going to have to find a way to get past this part, and soon, because it was exhausting.
"Kurt," she said quietly, "can we just… not? Please? I just can't… not today… not after last night." Wondering if her short sentence had been enough for him to even know what she was talking about, she opened her eyes to see him looking at her sheepishly, and once he saw that he had her attention, he nodded. He wanted to get closer to her, but he wasn't sure if he should, or what he should do… contact had always been a form of comfort between them, and suddenly it felt… with whatever was going on with them… He just didn't know anymore.
You're overthinking it, he told himself. You do know her. She's changed a little, but she needs you even more now, whether or not she wants to admit it.
Looking down at her hands, which were clenched together, he took the last step towards her and reached down to take them in his gently. He saw her visibly sigh in relief just from the light touch of their hands together, and he took that as encouragement. Leaning forward slightly, he pulled her hands gently around behind his back, where he released them, and then wound his arms around her shoulders. This time instead of tensing, she relaxed completely against him, her relieved sigh even greater than it had been a moment before.
Leaning his cheek against hers so that his mouth was near her ear, as he was realizing that he liked to do even when it wasn't necessary, he whispered, "Guess what? We're ready to go."
The words weren't anything that should have necessarily have elicited a strong reaction, but then again, it wasn't really the words that made her stop and close her eyes, smiling and consciously allowing herself to enjoy the soaring feeling inside her, even knowing the potential for heartbreak that accompanied it. No, it was simply everything: the feel of his arms around her, of the side of his face pressed against hers, and the sound of his voice. It was the knowledge of the coming few days, and the fact that despite everything, they finally seemed to understand each other. They hadn't forgotten what had gone on between them, nor would they… but they were moving past it. Together.
Whether or not she deserved such devotion, she planned to hold onto it with both hands. She may not remember a lot about the world, but she did know from her short experience with people, and conversations with the few who she did know, that most people searched for that kind of connection for most of their lives.
Leaning back slowly, just far enough to look into his eyes, she fought the urge to simply hang onto him and never let go. Instead, she beamed up at him and said simply, "Well then, let's go."