A/N: The past few episodes of Blindspot have made me very sad, more so with each one… I know that they're upping the angst and the "Oscar factor" in order to build the tension and all that, but it's kinda breaking my heart to watch… I hate when TV shows build up one relationship so carefully over time and then suddenly seem to smash it to bits by having one or both characters sleep with someone they barely know (And not just Blindspot, I'm also looking at YOU, Covert Affairs and The Walking Dead). So I'm perfectly happy to take my sweet time working through the early episodes, where Jane and Kurt used to give each other those heart eyes all the time and act like they had an insanely impossible connection. I am able to admit that I may have (ok definitely did) added even more than usual (and possibly over the top) cuteness in this and previous chapters (and may well do so in future ones, too) in order to deal with what the writers are doing to me on the new episodes. I hope it's not too much… but then again, that's the thing about fanfic – I can write it however I want to. In any case, I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. I'm just borrowing the characters so I can play with them a little bit. The way the show is going in the back half of the season, I think I'm actually doing the characters a favor.
Moving slowly, Weller and Jane made it across the parking lot, and he opened the passenger side door of the black SUV for her. As she pulled herself up wearily, he stood by, ready to catch her if she fell backwards. Thankfully she didn't, and she managed to situate herself in the seat, falling back against the chair and appearing exhausted from the effort, her eyes drifting closed. After watching her for a second, he tugged at the seatbelt, pulling it slack and then reaching across her to buckle it, studying her carefully as he did so.
After hearing the click of the buckle and then standing there just watching her for a few more seconds, Weller closed the door as gently as he could while still making sure that the latch engaged. He saw her wince at the sound, then finally forced himself to move, walking quickly around to the driver's side. Climbing in and attempting to close his door quietly as well, he saw her flinch once again at the sound of the door closing. "Sorry," he said quietly as he buckled himself in and started the car. Her eyes were closed and a small attempt at a smile flitted across her face for just a second before her head leaned slowly towards the window, her temple coming to rest against the glass.
Just like that first night, he thought. On the way to the park by the water, and then on the way to the safe house, he recalled. Had that really only been a few days ago? It felt like so much longer…
Snap out of it, he told himself quickly. Places to go, people to see. If you want to get home anytime soon, go get this case wrapped up.
He drove along the semi-congested streets between the construction site in Brooklyn and FBI headquarters, glancing at Jane frequently and finding her still leaning her forehead against the glass.By the time they neared the FBI building, he was beginning to feel weary himself, the adrenaline that had coursed through him all day having left his system, leaving him feeling like he'd been knocked to the ground in an explosion at close range – which of course, he had. Wake up, he told himself as he drove into the bureau's parking garage and pulled the car to a stop.
Jane hadn't stirred since they'd left the construction site, and he couldn't tell if she was asleep or just resting her eyes. For her sake, he hoped that she'd managed to get a nap – though he wasn't quite sure what falling asleep would mean for her chances of having a head injury. Weller got out of the car and closed his door behind him, then crossed around the front of the car to her side, opening the door slowly. She was still leaning on the window, and he didn't want her to fall out of the car. He pulled the passenger door open, ever so slowly, with his right hand, while putting out his left hand near the slowly growing opening, to… what? Catch her in case she fell? He wasn't exactly sure, but if that was what happened, he'd try his best. After all, he'd saved her from far greater danger already, at least once.
It wasn't necessary though, because Jane sat up quickly at the sudden shift in her weight. She looked around in panic and confusion, seeming slightly alarmed. When she finally looked up and saw Weller standing in front of her, the look of panic receded as she smiled slightly. He didn't have a chance to enjoy the smile he saw on her face, however, because he watched her face begin to change almost immediately.
The haze of sleep faded and the events of the past hour came into focus, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, along with her headache. She turned to face Weller, but before she could climb out of the car her headache was back in full force and her eyes closed, again involuntarily. Leaning forward without even realizing it, she braced her elbows against her knees, dropping her head and making a conscious effort to breathe evenly.
It was impossible to miss the fact that she was once again in pain, and Weller crouched in front of her, trying to get closer to her level so he could better determine how serious the problem was. "Hey, Jane," he said softly, "are you okay?"
"Never better," she whispered, prompting Weller to roll his eyes and shake his head at her.
"Alright, come on, tough girl," he told her, trying to determine the best way to help her up. "Let's get you out of the car so you can go lie down. You'll feel better after some sleep." He saw her start to nod, but then wince at the motion. He hoped that sleep was all she needed to feel better…
The last thing she wanted to do was to move, but she knew that what Weller said was the truth. She desperately wanted to lie down. She tried to psych herself up to sit up, but it wasn't easy. "Okay," she said instead, her voice coming out as low and forced. She took one more deep breath and then pushed herself upwards so that she could take the large step down from the SUV, transferring her feet slowly onto the cement in front of her and unfolding her upper body from the crouched position in which she'd sat. Weller took a small step back to give her enough space to get out, but remaining close just in case. He wasn't sure whether she'd be able to stand on her own or not, at this point.
She didn't falter until it came time to transfer her weight completely from the seat of the car onto her feet, at which point it became clear that she wasn't quite stable. Weller caught her quickly by her forearms before she toppled over, positioning himself so that she was leaning against his chest. She immediately began to blush and he felt her try to push herself up and off of him, but it was a minute or so before she got her balance and managed to lean back and stand on her own shaky legs.
Despite his general preference for keeping people at arm's length, both literally and figuratively, he once again found that being so close to Jane didn't bother him. On the contrary, the sudden closeness took his breath away for a second, and not just from the impact of her weight falling against him. As there had been since the first minute he'd laid eyes on her, there was something so different about her, so mesmerizing to him… which only added, once again, to his suspicion that Jane was Taylor. He'd already decided, of course, but it only served to make him even more sure than he had been before.
When he could finally feel that she had stopped trembling, he reluctantly relaxed his grip on her, finding that he actually noticed the absence of her proximity when he took a step back. As if to compensate for the loss, he kept his right hand on her lower back just behind her hip. To be sure she's steady, he heard his mind rationalizing.
Right, that's exactly what you're doing, came the sarcastic voice in his head. You're not fooling anyone, you know. Inside, he sneered at the voice, but didn't let it show on his face. He was still watching Jane with concern in his eyes. Yes, he was pretty sure that he was acting only slightly more reserved than a lovesick teenager, however, it wasn't just a shallow infatuation. He cared a great deal about this woman he'd only met a few days ago, whether or not she actually was his childhood friend.
Get ahold of yourself, Weller, he told himself for the umpteenth time in the past few days.
She noticed that it took him a long moment before he let go of her. Not that she minded – despite feeling very self-conscious for basically falling onto him with all of her weight when her legs failed to support her, and feeling her cheeks warm to the point where she was sure she was blushing. For a split second she forgot how badly her head hurt, and as much as she felt that she should stand up, she really wasn't in any rush to move… it was a strange, conflicted feeling that she couldn't remember ever feeling before. Not that that was much of a novelty – she didn't remember much of anything, of course, unless it had happened in the past few days or flashed before her eyes in black and white images.
After pausing for only a split second he turned and, as he had done at the construction site, stood beside her, sliding the hand on her back gently the rest of the way across and around her waist. She didn't protest, despite a look of momentary surprise, and found herself relaxing and allowing him to hold her up. After all, most of her attention was on the pain in her head, which had already returned with a vengeance, anyway.
He was glad that she seemed to accept his help easily, since she so clearly needed it, and after closing the passenger side door behind her – the noise from which seemed to echo unusually loudly in the silent garage – they made their way into the building. Steering her towards a quieter section of the wing where their department was based, Weller directed Jane to lie down on a couch tucked into an alcove, away from most of the noise of agents coming and going, which would increase as they approached Mayfair's office and Patterson's lab, along with the open bullpen area where many of the agents worked when they were in the office. She just nodded, almost collapsing onto the cushions and turning on her side, attempting to block out the light and the sound.
Lying on the couch, curled away from him, she quickly retreated into the darkness behind her eyelids, noting that her head was feeling better already in the few seconds since she no longer had to concentrate on standing up or on the light in her eyes. She thought fleetingly of the fact that she was no longer aware of where Weller was, however, his location wasn't of primary importance to her at the moment. She heard footsteps retreating and then silence, and wondered if he'd gone somewhere. They were at headquarters for his debrief, after all, so it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that the footsteps walking away had been his. Still, a small part of her consciously wondered when he'd be back. It was her last thought before she surrendered to sleep.
Without a word, Weller strode down the hall to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator and a small bag of pretzels from a basket on the counter. When he returned minutes later, he found Jane in exactly the same position he'd left her in, curled halfway into a ball on the couch, facing away from him and the light of the hallway. Setting the water and pretzels on the small table that sat at the end of the couch, he couldn't tell if she had fallen asleep or if she was just blocking out the world around her for the sake of her headache. "Get some rest, Jane," he whispered, just in case she could hear him.
There was no reply. He hoped that that was all she needed, and that nothing was seriously wrong with her. Yes, the EMTs had checked her over and had said that she didn't have a concussion, but they only had basic tools at their disposal in the ambulance. She'll be fine, he insisted. Still, he hated to see her like this, and vowed to himself that if she wasn't feeling better when he was done with his debrief, he'd take her to be checked out. The EMT's words from earlier rang in his head: "Someone should probably keep an eye on her for the next few hours, make sure she doesn't develop any new symptoms of head trauma." Jane had a serious headache, but didn't seem to have any other symptoms… Yes, he'd definitely take her to get checked out if she wasn't feeling better when he got back.
After watching her for a few more seconds, he turned and reluctantly headed for the conference room where the rest of the team was waiting for him to debrief and discuss what had happened in the last few hours.
XXX
They'd been in the conference room for what Weller swore had been two hours, minimum, but when he consulted his watch, it had only been forty-five minutes. Seeing him look down to check the time, Mayfair, who was about to speak, arched her eyebrow at him questioningly, waiting for him to explain his look of impatience. It was unlike him to be anything but focused.
Weller looked slightly at a loss, reminding Mayfair a little bit of a boy who'd lost his puppy. Sighing, she rolled her eyes slightly, knowing just from the look on his face what the problem likely was. She glanced around at the rest of Weller's team, who appeared tired but determined to get through what they needed to do so that they could be finished and leave. "Let's take a 5 minute break," she said. "Then we'll finish up and you can all go home." Everyone sighed in relief at the unexpected chance to stretch their legs, even though it meant putting off their departure by 5 minutes. Weller jumped up quickly, the other agents standing up as well, wandering toward the hallway.
"Weller," Mayfair said in her no-nonsense tone, causing him to turn around and look over his shoulder in her direction. "Five minutes," she told him sternly. He nodded distractedly, and was about to leave, when she added, concern suddenly evident in her voice, "I'm sure she's fine… but go check, so you won't have to worry." Weller gave his boss a tight smile, both embarrassed by and grateful for her ability to read him so easily, nodding slightly before turning and leaving the room.
Without thinking about it, he jogged down the hall to where he'd left Jane. He found her on the same couch he'd left her on, now sitting up with her feet on the floor, her arms draped loosely over her knees. She was leaning forward, but holding her head up, not seeming to be focused on anything in particular.
"Hey," he said softly as he approached. At the sound of his voice, she looked up and smiled slightly as he added, "How's your head?"
"A little better," she replied softly, nodding slowly as she spoke and looking up at him. Once again, there was something about looking into her eyes that made it impossible for him to look away… not that he had the urge to do that. "I can keep my eyes open and form sentences, at least." She smirked slightly, knowing that those shouldn't be the big accomplishments that they felt like at the moment.
A slow, amused grin crept across his face. Really, he was just glad to see her doing better, and to see her smile at him.
"Are you done?" she asked, looking past him down the hall towards the conference room he'd come from.
"No, we've got a while yet to go. I just…" his eyes darted around sheepishly. Spit it out, the voice in his head insisted. "I just wanted to come and check on you. Make sure you were okay."
Now her smile reached all the way across her face, and his widened in response as well. "I'm okay," she said softly, adding "thanks," in a voice that was barely a whisper. He couldn't help but glance at the floor before his eyes were pulled back to hers a second later. Their eyes stayed locked on each other for a long minute, neither of them able to disengage.
Finally, Weller, once again hearing Mayfair's warning tone in his head uttering the words Five minutes, glanced back down the hall in the direction from which he'd come. "I'd better get back," he said hesitantly.
"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll see you later." Her eyes threatened to swallow him again, but he fought the attraction, knowing that he really did have to get back.
"You going home?" he asked, adding, "You could probably use the rest."
Her face clouded over slightly at the mention of "home," he noticed with interest, and she shook her head, though carefully. "Not yet," she said with certainty. "I'm in no hurry."
Despite her slightly strange reaction, for some reason the fact that she wasn't leaving yet made him smile, and he felt slightly relieved. "I'll see you a little later, then," he replied. She nodded as he turned to walk back down the hall. As he walked, he had to fight the urge to glance back over his shoulder at her. Behind him, she didn't attempt to fight the smile that had taken over her face.
Watching him go, she wondered what in the world was wrong with her. It made her slightly uncomfortable to have her feelings seem to spike when she was around him the way they did, and yet… the best way she could describe what she liked about the feeling of being around him was familiarity – she realized that the combination of slight discomfort and familiarity made no sense, and that familiarity was impossible because they'd only known each other a few days.
And yet, his name is tattooed in bold letters on your back, the voice in her head reminded her. That has to mean something. She was willing to concede that this was possible, though what it meant was beyond her. It was just another mystery that she had no idea how to solve – as if she needed another one of those.
Yawning, she stretched out her arms and leaned back on the couch to wait for Weller and the team to finish their debrief. She could go home now, of course, but… why? Nothing and no one waited for her there, only silence. The silence of the FBI headquarters building was preferable to the silence of her safe house. At least here, the silence could be broken at any moment by the next looming crisis. Not that she wished for there to be a crisis somewhere in the country that needed to be dealt with, however, she did welcome any and all distractions that took her away from her thoughts, whether large or small.
Sitting on the couch, she thought about Gibson. And Chao. And Musgrave. And Weller – more about him than the others, since she had more information to consider, and since he was the only one of those that she enjoyed thinking about. She thought about anything and everything she could think about to avoid thinking about herself… though something told her that she wouldn't be able to avoid thinking about the subject of herself for long, as much as she wanted to.
One step at a time, she told herself.