Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
A/N: Thank you to everyone who faithfully leaves reviews on this story. I feel like you guys have been even more generous with your kind words in the past few chapters, and it means a lot. I'm glad to know that you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it!
They came back inside quietly, both bracing for any sudden impact, any onslaught of memories – especially Kurt. They'd taken off their boots and hats and hung up their jackets when Jane turned around to see him just standing with his back to the front door, looking down the hall into the house toward the living area. He wasn't staring exactly, but he was just very… still. Walking up to him slowly, she kept her eyes on his. His eyes, on the other hand, were far away.
"She had just learned to tie her shoes," he said in a whisper. "She used to sit on the bottom step and concentrate so hard on it… I taught her how," he said, smiling sadly at, Jane now realized, the bottom step of the staircase behind her.
Jane turned to look at the step, as if she might see Taylor there herself, and then looked back at Kurt with a sad smile that matched his. She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, not saying a word. This was her time to listen.
"The biggest problem she had with tying her shoes was her hair," he said, as a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a choked sob escaped from him. "It was always falling in her face while she had her hands full of shoelaces. I tried to get her to push it behind her ears before she started, but she never seemed to remember. So it was easier just to hold her hair back for her until she was done…"
He sighed then, seeming to come out of his trance, and he finally looked down at Jane, attempting a smile that he obviously didn't feel. Squeezing his hand again, she stood up on her toes to reach up and kiss him gently on the cheek.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Looking at her in confusion, he asked, "For what?"
"For trusting me enough to tell me about her," she replied, keeping her eyes on his.
"Of course I—" he started, the words already out before he realized that between them, trust was no longer taken for granted. It was a huge part of what had been damaged between them, what had seemed irreparable on both ends. Once again, he had forgotten that this new phase of their relationship was less than two days old – it was easy to forget, since in some ways it felt as though nothing had ever come between them. Except that many, many things had. Big things.
"Jane," he began again, suddenly dismayed at the realization of what she may or may not have been thinking as she had watched him remembering Taylor but, up to this point, not talking about it – that he didn't trust her. "You know that I… We're past that, right? I know that it's not as simple as it sounds, but…" He stopped and took a breath, hoping that he could convince his words to come out in an order that would make sense. "I want to…"
Why is my brain not working? he wondered, now extremely frustrated.
Her left hand was now on his right arm. "It's okay," she was saying soothingly. "It's like you said in there somewhere… Trust isn't as simple as it sounds. We have a lot of… baggage. A lot of stuff to work through. It'll come."
Somehow, even though she felt safe with him, and she could see that her presence soothed him, for some reason it seemed inconceivable to her that he would trust her completely. Not yet, of course, and – sadly – maybe not ever. It was just something that she had to accept. She reasoned that maybe she felt this so acutely because it was so important to her, and that if he were to trust her like that, the way he once had… well, it was like everything else, really. She already knew how much it would hurt to lose that trust, and so in a way, having his trust terrified her at the same time as she craved it more than anything.
Someday, she thought sadly, attempting to downplay in her head just how desperately she wanted his trust. It was simply something that her mind would not accept – that he would trust her completely, despite the fact that he had just shared a memory of Taylor with her. I wouldn't trust me, she thought sadly.
"We do have a lot of baggage," he said slowly, because she wasn't wrong about that. There were terrible things in their pasts, and they would leave scars – psychological ones, as opposed to her lingering physical ones – for a while at least, though he had faith that they would fade. Suddenly, looking at her, he remembered that while this trip was undeniably hard for him, somewhere along the line he'd lost sight of the fact that it wasn't all about him. Despite the fact that she'd never been there before, the connection with Taylor had meant that there were ghosts of a different kind here for her – maybe an even harder kind to deal with… because how do you even begin to wrap your mind around what she was going through?
He looked into her eyes, really looked, for the first time in a while, and saw that below the determination that she'd been displaying, the desire to be there for him, there was a certain amount of insecurity. That made sense, of course, because after all, she had two pasts, and yet in another way, she had none at all.
"But that doesn't mean that I don't trust you, Jane. Okay? I know that the past few days have been…" He looked around for a second, searching for the right word. "Intense." They both smiled at the understatement of the word. Somehow even intense didn't seem to cover it. "And I know that before that…" He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
How was it possible that it all seemed so crystal clear now, but that he hadn't been able to see it for months? How had he allowed it to go that far?
The guilt was back in full force. She hadn't deserved the treatment she'd received, from the CIA or from the FBI. It was a wonder that she was worried about him trusting her when it should be the other way around. He felt the need to prove himself trustworthy to her, more now than ever. But that look in her eyes just then, when she'd thanked him for trusting her… She'd looked… surprised. He hated that she hadn't expected him to trust her. After everything, she didn't deserve to feel that way.
He sighed heavily, feeling that somehow despite his best efforts, he was failing her without even having realized it until that moment. No other words would come to him just then, so he simply wound his arms around her again, despite the fact that it hadn't even been five minutes since the last time he'd done the same thing, just outside the door.
There is no such thing as too much of this, he reminded himself. Besides, we both have a lifetime of heartache to make up for. She couldn't remember most of her past, but the bits and pieces she could were enough to tell him that she was just as much in need of this as he was.
He had run out of words, that much was obvious. She'd been doing so well that day, she'd told herself, taking a turn being the strong one because he so clearly needed her to be, and her own feelings of insecurity had crept back up on her out of nowhere. It wasn't self-pity or any conscious thought, she simply couldn't conceive of the possibility that she deserved to be trusted. Not after the terrible things she'd done and despite the deal they'd made in the car the day before.
"We'll work thought whatever we need to work through," he mumbled against her cheek, "but I trust you now. And I want you to know that, if you didn't already."
Her stomach flip-flopped and her breath caught inside her, and for a second she couldn't get it to come out. There's something to be said for hearing the words that you so desperately want to hear that you're actually afraid to hear them, and this was exactly what was happening. In her head, there was a tug of war between wanting to believe that he trusted her, and being terrified of these words because of how much it had hurt when the trust – along with everything else – had been taken away the first time. She knew that she couldn't go through that again.
He felt her shudder against him, and heard the sound of a choked sob that went with it, and he held on tightly with his left hand across the shoulders of the sweatshirt he had given her to wear while rubbing his right in slow swirling motions across the middle of her back. It was all she could do to concentrate on breathing in and out, her brain temporarily unable to process anything except the fact that he was holding onto her. At that moment, that was all she needed.
As her breathing came back to normal, he felt the tension in her lessen and felt her relax against him. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" he whispered against her cheek, not moving his face from where it had rested against her temple for the past few minutes. She nodded, keeping her cheek pressed against his as well.
"Yeah," she exhaled, feeling exhausted even though she'd recently had a nap.
Drawing back slowly, he looked into her eyes in an attempt to determine if she was okay. He didn't ask the question out loud, but his eyes did it for him. Hers answered for her as she smiled tiredly back up at him. She was okay, her eyes told him, just overwhelmed, and he smiled in satisfaction.
"What do you say," he said slowly, his hands now resting loosely on her back, but closer to her waist, "if we go and have something warm to drink, and then we challenge Sarah and Sawyer to that epic snowball fight that I promised him earlier? And by then it'll be time to make dinner."
Smiling at him happily, she replied, "You had me at 'we.'"
"Wait, is that a Jerry Maguire reference? Have you seen that movie?" he asked, raising his eyebrows with a confused smile.
"Well, no, I heard someone use it – Patterson, I think, - and she explained it to me…" she admitted.
"We can watch it sometime, if you want," he offered a little bit shyly.
"I'd like that," she said awkwardly, looking away and then back at him slowly. Why do I suddenly feel like I can't look at him? she wondered.
"So… at we, huh?" he asked, returning to the other part of her statement that he was curious about, not as a pop culture reference but for the content of what she'd said. "That's all you need? Just an… us?"
She knew that he was teasing her a little bit, and she felt herself blush. "Ugh, I guess I need to be careful what I say, because your ego's already big enough, isn't it? And besides, I mean, I don't want you to get the wrong idea… There are limits…" He started laughing so hard then that she didn't bother to continue. He really was too much sometimes…
It had been so much fun to make her flustered, but he simply hadn't been able to keep a straight face any longer.
When they both stopped laughing, she cleared her throat and said, "But, um, yeah… that's enough for me." Her tone was slightly more serious now as she added, "Just an us." Glancing at the floor and back up again, her voice was almost a whisper. "It's more than I… expected." She had been about to say that it was more than she deserved, but she knew that he would have objected to that. Besides, it was also more than she'd expected.
Reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he couldn't help but smile at her admission. "That makes two of us," he said, curling his fingers around from behind her ear and dragging them gently across her skin to her cheek. He felt her leaning into the touch of his fingers, and watched her smile with so much emotion in her eyes that they fell closed. His fingers moved in tiny circles on her cheek for a few minutes until his hand finally dropped slowly to her shoulder.
"Come on," he told her gently, tugging her around to face into the house, then taking a step forward and putting his right arm over her shoulders to move her along with him. "Let's go get something to drink. You still didn't tell me what you wanted."
And just like that, as she walked with him, her head settling against his shoulder, everything was okay again.
"I think you feel like hot chocolate right now… what do you think?" he asked, turning toward her but, because her head was on his shoulder and he therefore couldn't see her face, simply leaned his face into her hair for a second before looking back up at where they were going.
"I think you know me pretty well," she replied. Picking up her head from his shoulder but still walking with their arms across each other's backs, they walked into the kitchen together.
Sarah looked up from her book where she sat on the floor by the fireplace, apparently having been inspired by Jane and Kurt sitting there earlier. She watched with a smile as Kurt leaned away from Jane only far enough to turn the dial for the burner that would heat up the water in the kettle, then leaned back into her, close enough to whisper something beside her ear and then gently kissing her temple. He appeared to be doing a lot better with whatever had been bothering him when they'd gone outside a little while ago, and once again she felt immense gratitude toward Jane.
Sarah was still smiling at him when they turned slightly and Kurt caught sight of her watching them. He grinned with what looked like slight embarrassment, but mostly happiness.
"So we were thinking," Kurt said to her as they walked slowly in her direction, still not letting go of each other. "That we're going to warm up a little, and then after that… well, I promised Sawyer a big snowball fight, since he built us those great walls. And we were thinking that you should be part of it," he told her. "And then after that, I'll make dinner."
Rolling her eyes at him, Sarah grinned. This sounded very much like something her brother and her son would decide they wanted more than anything. And really, after she'd convinced Kurt to come here, to this place that was so difficult for him to be, how could she deny him something so simple? Not to mention how happy it would make Sawyer… Even though she wasn't exactly the snowball fight type, she replied, after an eye roll and a groan, "I only do these things for you and Sawyer, you know."
"That's one of the reasons we love you," Kurt offered, which made his sister smile.
"I'm assuming that you're not ready yet, so just tell me when you are, and I'll get Sawyer. If I tell him now, you won't get a second of peace until you say you are ready," Sarah told them.
"Where is Sawyer?" Jane asked curiously.
"Disappeared into his – er, my old room," Sarah replied. "He does that sometimes now… now that he has a room to disappear into." She smiled knowingly at Kurt, though there was a touch of sadness there as well. She'd loved staying with him in New York, even though she and Sawyer had had to share Kurt's spare room. Where they lived in Portland now was nice, and they had their own spaces, but she missed being in the same city with her brother. Some of the time, she even missed being in the same apartment as him.
Jane and Kurt both nodded. "I can't believe he's gotten that old," Kurt said. "I remember when I couldn't get him to stop following me around."
"Well to be fair, that almost describes his behavior anytime you're around, even now, most of the time," Sarah grinned. "He has always loved his uncle Kurt."
"You know what I mean," Kurt retorted, shaking his head.
"He is getting big," Sarah said with a sigh. "Much too fast for my taste."
The kettle began whistling behind them just then, and Jane and Kurt both turned back towards it, still not releasing their arms from each other's backs, simply maneuvering carefully to turn and walk back towards the stove. Kurt reached out and turned the dial back to off, picking up the kettle and pulling the handle up to open the stopper at the end of the spout, thus eliminating the high pitched noise that it was making as the steam escaped quickly into the air.
Opening the cupboard just in front of them, Kurt took down two mugs, one at a time with his one free hand, setting them side by side. The box of hot chocolate mix had been conveniently left on the counter in front of where they stood, and he removed two envelopes of powder from the box. Then, however, came the challenge, because he couldn't open the envelopes with one hand… at least, not easily.
Watching him mentally try to calculate his next move, Jane started to reach for one of the envelopes with her free hand. "Need a hand?" she asked with a smile, trying to anticipate how he was going to solve the problem – since he showed no sign of removing his arm from her back. This, of course, was completely okay with her.
"Nope, I think I've got it," he told her, to her surprise. Putting one envelope down on the counter, he held the other and then turned toward her, leaning in closer to her and then putting his other arm around her back so that he now had two hands to carefully rip the envelope of hot chocolate powder, albeit behind her back, as he watched carefully from over her shoulder. The trick came when he had finished opening the first envelope and had to release one of his arms from around her to put the small packet down and pick up the other one. He did so reluctantly, but within a few short seconds he was once again holding onto her with the excuse of opening the packet.
Once it was open, he reached out slowly with his right hand toward the counter to his right to put it down, careful not to let it spill, but instead of turning back to the counter and releasing her, he did the opposite. Stepping away from the counter and shifting slightly, turning her almost as if they were dancing until her back was against the counter, he pulled his arms around her again. She certainly had no objection, however, the hot chocolate that they allegedly wanted in order to warm up wasn't going to make itself, sadly.
"I think you got distracted," she whispered beside his ear.
"You distracted me," he whispered back. "It's your fault."
Chuckling happily, she let her hands drop slowly from his back and then turned around inside the circle of his arms, which loosened as she moved, until she was facing the counter. He was now standing behind her, peeking over her shoulder curiously with his hands at his sides. He'd liked it better when his arms were around her but when they were standing this way… he wasn't sure where to hold on.
What are you, in high school again? the voice in his head asked him teasingly.
He continued to watch from over her shoulder as she dumped the contents of each of the packets into one of the mugs, then took the kettle from the stove and filled each with water. Steam rose from them as she opened the drawer in front of them in search of a spoon to use to stir, but found that it wasn't the silverware drawer.
"Silverware?" she asked, turning her head to ask him over her shoulder, where his head sat close behind her.
"Left side of the stove," he murmured, not leaning back even though he was clearly invading her personal space. Why would he move? He was enjoying being exactly where he was.
She shook her head at his silliness, tilting her face to the side just a little in order to lean her cheek against his, perfectly happy to stay still for a moment.
After a minute, however, she had to move, and she reluctantly leaned back, forcing herself to break the connection between their cheeks. She walked to the drawer on the left side of the stove, taking out a spoon and then stepping back over to their hot chocolate, shaking her head at him. He was standing just beside her now, leaning his side against the counter and watching her carefully from only a few inches away.
She was surprised at how much she already missed the contact with him since she'd stepped back from him about a minute before. He's not going anywhere, she reminded herself. He's right in front of you.
They took their hot chocolate to the couch, and had just settled in so that they leaned gently against each other when they looked up to see Sarah watching them with a sappy grin on her face. She just shook her head, turning her book over to lay it on the floor and getting up to walk toward the kitchen. They didn't think anything of it until she was walking back toward them less than a minute later holding a bag of mini-marshmallows.
"You guys forgot the best part, according to Sawyer," she said, holding out a handful over Jane's mug. Jane held it still obligingly, and Sarah dropped the small treats in carefully, repeating the process for Kurt.
"Thanks, mom," Kurt said teasingly, grinning at his sister.
"Thank you, Sarah," Jane added, looking up at her with a slightly embarrassed smile.
"Seriously, you guys are too cute," Sarah said, walking back toward the kitchen and shaking her head. "You're killing me!" She set the marshmallows down on the counter and headed toward the front of the house, saying casually over her shoulder, "I'm going to see what my darling little boy is up to. Let us know when you're ready to go back outside."
Once Sarah had rounded the corner out of sight, Kurt clinked his mug carefully against Jane's, which made her smile.
"I think we drove her away with our cuteness," he said quietly. He wasn't quite sure why he was whispering, except maybe that it seemed more likely that she would stay closer to him if he spoke quietly, for some reason.
She chuckled, taking another sip and enjoying the moment of peace for both of them. They had been few and far between in this house.
Then suddenly, it was as if at that same second, another memory hit him. He glanced up past her, into the kitchen, staring at the table. When she immediately felt him tense up beside her, she looked up at his face. Sure enough, he had that faraway look again, the one that told her that he was remembering something. She waited patiently, watching him carefully.
He held his hot chocolate in his hands carefully, looking past her into the kitchen. As he stared at the kitchen table, it was as if five year old Taylor and his ten year old self suddenly appeared there before his eyes.
How many marshmallows do you have? she asked, standing up to try to look into the mug in front of him.
I don't know, he replied. I didn't count them.
I'll count them! she'd announced happily. One, two, three… She'd kept going until she got to sixteen. Wow, she'd said in awe, that's a lot. How many do I have, anyway?
He watched in silence, once again feeling the bottom falling out of his stomach in the present time, as he had during past memories of her.
I have thirteen. So you have… She'd thought for a minute, then continued. … three more than me.
Very good math, he'd told her. But we can't have that. With that, he'd picked up five marshmallows in his spoon and plopped them carefully into her mug. She'd looked up at him in such delight that he'd have thought he'd given her the thing she wanted most in the entire world, and not just five already melting marshmallows.
Now how many do you have? he'd asked her, and she'd dutifully counted from one all the way up to eighteen. While she did that, he proceeded to eat all of the marshmallows in his mug, spooning them into his mouth in groups of three or four until very quickly, only the liquid remained. When she'd looked into his cup again, she'd seemed shocked that he didn't have any marshmallows left.
Hey! Where'd your marshmallows go? she'd asked in alarm.
I ate them, he'd grinned, wondering what she'd say.
Oh, she said, her face serious as she was clearly thinking hard. Then, looking up at ten year old Kurt so earnestly that watching the exchange threatened to break the heart of the Kurt Weller who sat beside Jane on the couch all over again, she asked, Do you want some of mine?
No, Taylor, he'd said softly, you eat them.
She'd looked at him skeptically, and asked, Are you sure?
I'm sure, he'd assured her, and she'd slowly picked up her mug to drink, leaving a line of marshmallow foam on her face above her lip when she finally put her cup back down again. The grin on her face was… everything.
Jane was afraid to move, for fear of interrupting whatever was happening in his head. She did, however, transfer her mug to her left hand, then reach her right hand across to where his right hand was wrapped around his mug, pressing hers around it on top of his.
After it had been long enough that Jane had wondered if he was going to tell her what was going on in his head, or if he was going to hold it in, he finally spoke. "I remember sitting at that table across from…" His voice caught on her name for a second, but he continued. "…Taylor… and having hot chocolate," he said quietly. "She was five, and I was ten. She was counting the marshmallows we each had. I had sixteen and she had thirteen. She figured out that I had three more than I did. So… I took my spoon and I gave her five of mine."
Jane couldn't help but smile. Even at ten years old, that sounded so very much like something that the Kurt she knew would have done.
"While she was counting hers again, I ate all of mine. She looked back in my cup to count mine again, and she saw asked me where they went." There was a sad smile on his face as he remembered. "I told her that I ate them already, and she…" He paused, taking a deep breath to try to regain control of his emotions. Otherwise, he was pretty sure, he wasn't going to be able to finish – and he wanted to tell Jane what he'd seen.
"…She asked me if I wanted some of hers, and when I told her no, she should eat them, she asked me if I was sure," he finished in a whisper. Jane squeezed her hand over his, wishing there was something more that she could do for him. Beside her, he let out a long, deep breath, and as she watched, the expression on his face changed. He still looked sad, but he didn't appear to be in pain any longer at least.
As she watched him, he turned and looked down at her, smiling sadly, but maybe somehow with just a tiny bit less sadness than the previous time – or maybe she was just imagining it. Then just like that, he leaned down just enough to press his forehead against her head, just past her hairline, so that his nose pressed into her forehead. In response, she leaned into him, their faces pressing harder against each other. There was something about the pressure with which they leaned against each other just then that matched the intensity that they felt between them. There was no need to verbalize it, it was simply a given between the two.
Each of them meant the words in different ways, but the unspoken message was clear, and it was the same. Simply, I'm here.
They sat that way for quite a while, until the hot chocolate was no longer hot so much as warm, and they each reluctantly lifted their head from the other's, Jane moving her hand back to her own mug so that they could both drink. They did so in silence for a few minutes before Jane spoke.
"You don't have to tell me, you know," she said quietly. "About what you remember… about her. I don't want you to feel like you have to." She held her mug between her hands in her lap, her legs crossed in front of her. He couldn't help but think that she suddenly looked… Apologetic? Nervous? He couldn't quite tell, maybe because she suddenly didn't seem to want to meet his eyes.
"I know I don't have to," he said calmly. "But I want to." It was only then that she turned to look at him, and he saw surprise in her face, and relief, too.
"I just didn't want you to feel like I expected you to tell me," she said, looking and sounding relieved, but then starting to shake her head. "After all, I don't really de—"
She stopped herself mid-sentence, freezing in place as she inhaled a shaky breath, biting her lip. Without realizing it, she closed her eyes tightly, and then suddenly all she could see was herself – well, Remi – with Oscar that day in the snow at the memorial service – Taylor's memorial service… watching Kurt and assessing his vulnerability. Or making sure he was still connected to Taylor or whatever they were calling it. It didn't matter what they had called it. However you painted it, it had been cruel manipulation of Kurt's very real vulnerability on the subject of this little girl, now even more painfully real to Jane than ever before. The little girl who Kurt's own father had killed. Thinking about it again now, she felt sick.
I don't deserve to have him confide in me. I don't deserve to hear these things, after—
"Jane." His voice cut through her thoughts, which had just begun to spiral out of her control, and his left hand landed on her right knee. He leaned down and put his now empty mug on the floor to his right, and then leaned back across his body and took her mug from her lap with this right hand, finding that he had to pry it out of an unexpectedly strong grasp. When he finally got it away from her, he set her mug down beside his, and then returned his attention to her. She'd clamped her hands together, and her eyes were still closed.
It's funny, he thought, wasn't she just comforting me less than ten minutes ago? Maybe five?
When his hand landed on her knee, she felt the spiral of panic come to a stop, but that didn't mean that she was calm. Anything but. She'd just become aware of him there beside her once again, so that was a start, but she couldn't get her breathing under control and her heart was racing. She was trying to clear her mind, to think of nothing, hoping that the feeling would go away – when she felt him pulling the mug out of her hands. She hadn't even realized that her hands were clamped so tightly around it, and she was just as surprised as he was when he had trouble taking it from her. He finally did, however, and she felt him lean away from her, then toward her again a few seconds later.
She heard him sigh, but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes and look up at him. "Breathe," she heard him say, and felt the hand on her knee squeeze gently. "It's okay. Just… breathe." Nodding without opening her eyes, she tried her best to let his voice calm her down.
Hesitating for a minute, he scooted closer to her, lifting her right knee slightly to make room, and then, when she seemed willing to let him move her leg, and seemed to be starting to uncross her legs altogether anyway, he slipped his right arm under her knees, taking advantage of the fact that she was changing position and draping her knees over his lap. She sat stiffly for a minute, but he stretched his left arm out so that it fell part way across her shoulders as she now leaned against the back of the couch with her right shoulder, his right hand resting on her knees. Little by little, he felt her relax, leaning against him more and more and letting her legs relax against his.
"It's really something else, the way we keep trading off," he said, trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible. "If we ever break down at the same time… we might have a problem." She chuckled despite herself then, leaning down to put her head on his shoulder.
"Yeah," she agreed tiredly, taking a deep breath.
"You're not her, Jane," he said simply. He heard the sharp intake of breath and he knew that he'd been right about what was bothering her. "And you have to stop carrying around guilt that isn't yours. I know that it isn't easy…" He stopped and tugged her closer to him, and this time she leaned into his side willingly, though her eyes were still closed. "…But I'm just going to keep reminding you until it sinks in. Okay?"
"Okay," she whispered, nodding her head against him.
"It's only fair that you let me help you," he told her, "after everything you've done for me." She finally opened her eyes then, looking up at him uncertainly.
She needed to say something… she knew that she needed to say something. But what? How could she possibly put any of it into words? How could she tell him something that she couldn't even articulate to herself in her own head?
The look in her eyes told him that that there was a lot that she wanted to say, but he took her silence to mean that it was all stuck inside her somewhere. That happened to him enough that it wasn't a surprise when it happened to her. Looking into her eyes, however, he had a pretty good sense of what she wanted to say but couldn't. After all, they had a lot in common, right down to the way they felt. It wasn't exactly the same, no, but just then they both felt broken, and they both felt lost, among a thousand other things. They both also felt calmed by the presence of the other.
She leaned forward then, pushing her head against his chest as he put his arms around her at the slightly awkward angle at which they now found themselves. Finally, she felt herself breathing normally again.
It seemed to him like a good time to change the subject. "You know that Sarah and Sawyer are never going to let us be on the same team for the snowball fight, right? After all, the two of us are the ones with all of the training," he reasoned.
"Yeah, if wouldn't be smart to let us team up," she said, feeling herself smile for the first time in a little while, even if it was a little bit weakly. "We always did make a great team." He couldn't help but smile then, knowing that she wasn't talking about snowballs fights, but just them as a team in general.
"Are you up for it?" he asked her, leaning back to look in her eyes seriously.
She looked back at him for a minute to assure him that she was alright, her smile slowly growing. "Absolutely," she told him. "I look forward to beating your team, you and whoever else is on it."
His mouth curved into a smile then. "Oh, so that's how it is," he said slowly, glad to see Jane acting more like herself.
"You're going to lose, Weller," she told him confidently.
"We'll see about that," he replied. Really, neither of them cared about any possible outcome of the snowball fight, it was just fun to talk trash to each other. "Shall we go and tell Sarah and Sawyer that it's time for the big showdown?"
"No time like the present," she said. Then, glancing at the way they were sitting, she added, "Though I have to say, I'm also pretty comfortable where I am…"
"Oh yeah?" he asked interestedly, leaning just a little closer to her and raising his eyebrows playfully.
"Well, you know, it's not exactly the closest we've been to each other on this trip. After the drive here… everything feels far away," she said, only truly realizing what she'd said after she'd said it, glancing away for a second and then looking back at him with an embarrassed grin. "I just… It's like we said before… it seems like it should be awkward… this… but really, it's just not."
He nodded in agreement, thinking that she'd summed things up perfectly. "Lucky us," he said.
"However, you're not going to feel so lucky when you get hammered with snowballs," she told him, at which he could only laugh, pull her tighter, and then release her so that they could stand up.
"Speaking of which… That's enough of the trash talking, missy," he told her. "Let go gather the other players so that he can settle this once and for all."
It took very little prodding on their part to get Sarah and Sawyer to come downstairs to get ready for the snowball fight, and long afterward, the four of them were bundled up and hustling into the backyard, Sarah and Kurt taking on Jane and Sawyer. Kurt tried not to be too hurt that Sawyer had chosen Jane's team over his when it was time to choose, but then again, he told himself, he would rather have been on Jane's team too, so he could understand.
The air was full of puffs of powdery snow flying back and forth, every one of them seeming to explode in a cloud of white on impact, whether that impact was with a person or just the snow walls that Sawyer, Jane and Kurt had built earlier. Jane and Sawyer were arguably winning, though there were no clear rules about how a "winner" might be declared, with Sawyer mainly making the snowballs and Jane hitting her marks each time with unsurprising accuracy. So far she'd gotten Sarah in the shoulder and the shin and Kurt in both knees and in the upper arm. Kurt had managed to hit Sawyer, but hadn't hit Jane a single time.
They continuously jumped out at each other to shoot their snowballs, becoming more and more daring as time went on, quickly ducking for cover again as soon as they'd had a chance to shoot. Kurt only got quick glimpses of Jane, but from what little he could see of her, she looked happy. Thankfully, for once his mind stayed firmly planted in the present.
The teams were quickly wearing each other out, thanks to the cold weather and the wind that kept blowing the snow back into their faces. There was a great deal of shrieking laughter and despite the temperature, everyone enjoyed themselves immensely.
By the time they'd declared that they'd all had enough, with both sides claiming themselves victorious, it was starting to snow again. No new flakes had fallen since late afternoon on the day before – the day they had arrived, if it was possible that that was true. It certainly didn't seem like it had been only the previous night that they'd gotten there, and yet… it was still Christmas Day, and Jane and Kurt had pulled up to the house late in the evening on Christmas Eve. Despite how it felt, they hadn't even been there for twenty-four hours yet.
In any case, the twenty-four hour reprieve they'd received from the severe winter weather appeared to be over. They headed back around the house to the front door, noticing for the first time that the sky overhead looked somewhat ominous. The wind was blowing harder than ever and the snow had quickly begun falling in some of the largest flakes that Jane had ever seen.
Jane and Kurt fell behind Sarah and Sawyer, as Jane stopped and simply stared up into the sky in wonder. Kurt watched as fat snowflakes landed on Jane's face, beginning to melt immediately, while she stood without moving.
"You have to catch them on your tongue," he said from beside her. "That's a pretty common thing for kids to try to do." Without hesitation, she opened her mouth wide, her tongue stuck out as far as it would go, and in seconds she had accomplished her new goal, as quite a few snowflakes landed in her mouth. She closed it again, grinning.
"That feels weird," she told him happily.
"Look at this," he said, showing her where individual snowflakes were landing against the black of his jacket. "You can see the big ones pretty well against dark colors… every snowflake is unique."
"Wow," she said, staring in awe as the snowflakes slowly melted against his jacket and were replaced by new ones. "They're beautiful."
"They are," he agreed. And then, before he even had time to think about it, he added, "So are you."
Jane smiled up at him in surprise as she swore that Kurt had suddenly turned pink with embarrassment, on top of the pink from the cold that she had already seen in his cheeks. She noticed that he looked almost as surprised as she felt.
He didn't know where the words had come from. She absolutely was beautiful, so he didn't regret saying them, it was just that… despite how it felt, and despite how long they'd known each other, this… whatever it was between them was still something very new. Where were the lines? What were the rules for this? What was she comfortable with? He couldn't answer any of the questions in his own head. They really and truly were making it up as they went along… which was fine with him, as long as it was fine with her.
It seemed to her that he had lost the power of speech just then, and she wasn't sure quite what to say either. She certainly didn't consider herself beautiful. And yet, when Kurt said it… he made her feel beautiful.
Standing up as tall as she could in front of him to bring their faces almost even with each other, she leaned closer to him, stopping with no more than an inch between their noses – at the most – and looked into his eyes.
"Thanks," she said simply. "You're not so bad yourself."
He grinned back at her, and after that neither of them was sure which of them moved, only that a second later they were kissing, suddenly not even noticing that the cold wind was whipping snow at their faces. Not a minute later, however, there was a familiar voice nearby, and they were pulling back from each other.
"They're kissing. Again." Sawyer and Sarah had walked back around the corner to see what had become of the two of them, and Sawyer didn't even try to hide his disgust.
"Sawyer, I told you we should have let them catch up with us when they were ready… Sometimes you need to give people privacy or you're not going to like what you see," Sarah was telling him, attempting to drag him back toward the house. Sawyer just threw up his hands as if he'd had enough, saying nothing else as he stomped back toward the house with Sarah close behind him.
"Sorry, guys," Sarah called back over her shoulder sheepishly as she followed her son.
Jane and Kurt were still standing with their faces close together, laughing quietly, when the other two finally left.
"Now where were we?" Kurt asked quietly, already moving his face closer to hers.
"Freezing," Jane replied with a smile.
"Well, if I have to freeze somewhere, this is a good place," he shrugged, smiling even as their lips made contact.
While they didn't give into the cold immediately, their kiss was cut short. As much as they hated to have to pull apart, they both had to admit that the biting wind was getting to them. It was silly to freeze to death right beside a perfectly good, warm house.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that there's snow in your boots that you didn't tell me about, and that your toes are going to be like ice cubes again," he said as they began walking again, side by side.
"I hadn't noticed it until just now!" she protested quickly. "I had other things on my mind."
"We are seriously getting you some winter gear when we get home," he said, shaking his head. "Even if we're not going to be back here again… We're bound to go somewhere with snow again sometime."
His words had revealed several things about the future that, while they weren't exactly surprises, she hadn't given much thought to until now. She wondered if he had, either. "Oh we are, are we?" she asked him with a lopsided grin.
He shrugged, smiling as he realized that he'd talked so casually about future adventures with her. "I hope so," he said, smiling innocently. All she could do was smile back at him in agreement.
As they reached the front door, she asked him, "Does it bother you? Thinking that you have no reason to come back here again after this weekend? I mean, I know that you stayed away on purpose for a long time… And I know it hasn't been easy to be here… but… never coming back…?"
It's hard to imagine selling this house, he thought, and yet, that's exactly what we're going to do. She's right. It's the last time I'll be here.
She saw him glance in the direction of Taylor's house before his eyes landed back on hers, and she could see the wheels turning inside his head. "I purposely didn't come back here in the last twenty-five years," he said slowly as they stomped the snow off of their feet on the porch and he put his hand on the doorknob to open the front door. He paused, however and said, "As much as things have changed recently… No, it doesn't bother me to think that I'll never come back to this house. I am glad I came this time, though, as hard as it has been. And I'm glad you came with me."
"Me, too," she replied with a nod and a shy smile. Even though she'd asked the question, she'd almost been afraid of the answer, so it was a relief when he seemed so… so okay. She knew that he was still processing everything that had happened, and that was still happening, and he wasn't necessarily done working through it, but at that moment they were both okay. Better than okay, because they were together.
He swung the door open and they stepped inside, the warm air exactly what they needed after so long in the bitter cold. It was like the way he felt about Jane, in a way. Never mind that the two were not as directly related as warm and cold, Jane was the much needed warmth in his life after the bitter cold that had seemed like it would never end – a lifetime of sadness, as he'd been haunted by what had happened to Taylor. Closing the door behind them, he wondered if he would be able to do so metaphorically as well, and leave the past in the past. Not the memories of Taylor, but the sting of the "cold" – the weight of the pain that he'd carried for most of his life. If anyone could help him try to leave it behind, he knew, it was Jane.
After all, it had always been Jane.