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: I feel like at this point, apologies are in order. It's been over four months since I've updated this story. Granted, it isn't as though I haven't been writing – and writing exclusively Blindspot fics, too. I temporarily abandoned the stories I was writing in two other fandoms and spent the summer writing only Jeller, so hopefully I can be forgiven for putting this one to the side during that time as well. In any case, now that The Aftermath, Poison Ivy and Beach Weekend (as well as More to the Story, my cute little one shot) are all out of my system, I'm excited to get back to this one. And the way season 2 is going, I'm even happier to be back in this much simpler time. I expect to start updating this story regularly again – barring any other inspirations, of course. :)

Zapata and Reade had gotten back from the scene at Jane's safe house a few hours after Jane and Kurt, but Mayfair had sent them home to get a few hours' sleep, telling them that they would regroup again in the morning – she knew that her agents had already been running on fumes as it was, and none of them, herself included, could go without sleep for much longer. The two had certainly not objected to this unexpected end to what had been a very long day, and had left the building without even wondering whether Weller and Jane had already left, as well. After all, surely they'd been sent home as well, probably hours ago.

Weller woke up stiff, wondering where in the world he was. Before he found the energy to open his eyes, he felt his neck screaming in pain and his body protesting angrily that it was sore all over. When he did manage to pry his eyes open, his senses were assaulted by the bright florescent lights above him, causing him to squint before he'd even gotten his bearings.

Where am I? he wondered, his mind still fuzzy with sleep. He tried to work backwards, attempting to remember what case he'd been working the night before. What had it…?

And then it hit him, all of it and once, and his eyes shot open. He was halfway to a sitting position within a split second, which earned him more screaming complaints of more than half of the muscles in his body. His eyes were now wide open, despite the blinding lights, but it took a few seconds before his surroundings came into focus. He was relieved to see Jane, still asleep on the couch across from him. She looked more peaceful than any of the times that she'd fallen asleep in his car in the few short – and yet long – days since they'd met.

He smiled unconsciously, watching her for a few minutes before he realized what he was doing. Glancing at the clock on the wall opposite him, he saw that for whatever reason, he'd been allowed to sleep through the night and part of the morning – it was nearly 8:00am. He reached into his pocket for his phone, where he saw that he had a text from Mayfair, sent late the night before.

Had he let her know when he'd gotten back with Jane? He couldn't even remember. In any case, her text told him to get some sleep, that she was sending Reade and Zapata home to sleep as well, and that the team would regroup at 10:00, after Patterson's team had a chance to look over the evidence from the crime scene – aka Jane's safe house. Weller wondered if Mayfair had even wondered about Jane's whereabouts, since for the moment, she didn't have a safe house. Irritation prickled through his veins on her behalf at the idea that she had been overlooked, again, even though he had no proof that this was the case.

Maybe you checked in with her and told her that Jane was with you, he told himself tiredly. Yes, that must be it. He was just being irrational and he should know better... For some reason, however, Jane seemed to bring out a slightly irrational side in him, though he would never admit it to anyone else…

Just then, Weller heard footsteps in the hallway, and he stood quickly. More than likely, it was Dr. Borden arriving for work, since, he had newly remembered, they were outside of his office. Weller vaguely remembered bringing Jane there the night before so that she could sleep somewhere that would be both remotely familiar as well as quiet.

Weller stood up quickly, knowing that their presence there would be a surprise to Borden, and hoping to catch his attention before he accidentally woke up Jane. A few seconds later, the psychologist rounded the corner into the waiting area outside of his office, and was obviously surprised to see Weller standing there. Before Borden could utter a word, however, Weller had his finger to his lips, and pointed to Jane where she slept on the couch opposite him. Borden nodded, tilting his head toward the door to his office as an indication that they would talk inside.

Weller followed Borden to the door, standing a few feet behind the other man while he unlocked the door and then following him inside. Once they were in the office with the door closed, Weller started his explanation for their presence.

"We had a rough night," he began. "After Gibson shot at her, there was the chase after him," Borden nodded at this, as he had been briefed late the previous afternoon before he'd left, "and Jane's SUV rolled over. Then, not long after I'd dropped her off at her safe house after dinner, Jane's detail called me to say that they'd heard gunshots. There was…" Weller took a breath to steady himself, the feeling of frustration and powerlessness of the previous night suddenly returning as he recounted what had happened. "A man had broken in somehow, and he and Jane had a pretty nasty fight… she said that she'd known him, but couldn't remember how. And then…" he paused, shaking his head, still in disbelief at everything that had happened in such a short time.

"A sniper in a building across the street shot the man, and he died almost instantly. Jane wasn't hit, she was really banged up, though." Borden simply nodded, as he had been doing throughout Weller's explanation. "We came back here – I don't even know what time it was, but after everything else that had happened yesterday… she fell asleep as soon as she laid down."

Dr. Borden nodded thoughtfully. "I was already scheduled for a session with her this morning," he said evenly, "and it sounds like we'll have a lot to talk about."

Weller nodded, his eyes darting from the clock on the wall, to the door of the office. This did not escape Dr. Borden's attention. "If you need to get back to work," he told Weller, "I'll be here. She'll be fine where she is until she wakes up." Weller nodded, looking relieved. "Before you go," Dr. Borden said, standing up calmly and walking to a closet, "Here. For Jane." From the closet he had retrieved a light blue blanket which, when Weller took it from the psychologist, he found was much softer than it looked.

Nodding at Borden, Weller remembered to grumble, "Thanks, doc," before letting himself out, leaving the door open behind him so that Borden had a view of the couch where Jane was still sleeping from his desk.

As soon as Weller was back in the waiting area with Jane in view, he was once again under her spell. He slowed as he walked towards her, afraid to do anything that would wake her up. Standing in front of her, he unfolded the blanket that Borden had just given him and, leaning closer to her, spread it out as far as he could over the sleeping woman in front of him.

Dr. Borden watched from inside his office, pretending to be busy at his desk while keeping an eye on Agent Weller. It didn't take professional psychological training to know that there was some sort of deep emotional connection between Weller and their newest asset. It wasn't simply the way he looked at her, though that was a big part of it. No, it was everything about him when he was around her. Dr. Borden had only met Weller at the beginning of this case, shortly before Weller had met the woman in question, but even so, Borden could see a difference in his demeanor when he was around her versus when he wasn't.

He found it fascinating to watch the difference in Weller, especially after reading the other man's file and seeing his background. This chance to observe him gave Borden a window into the depth of Weller's feelings, though according to his coworkers, it had always been nearly unheard of for him to display any but the smallest hints of emotions while on a case. Clearly, there was something different this time.

Weller laid the blanket over Jane carefully, then squatted down in front of her and tucked it around her. What are you doing? he asked himself. The blanket's already on her. You don't need to tuck her in. The realization made him stand up quickly, but he remained rooted to the spot for another minute as he simply stood and watched her sleep. He wished that he didn't have to leave her there, even with Borden looking out for her. He'd seen her reaction upon waking up a few times in his car now, and hated to imagine the panic in her eyes for that split second before she figured out where she was.

You mean, you want to see that smile on her face when she sees you there when she wakes up, the voice in his head teased him.

Well... that could be part of it, he admitted to himself. But also, he just hated to leave her there, where he couldn't protect her. The last time he'd left her, at her own safe house, she'd been attacked, after all.

This is the FBI building, his mind argued, she's safe here.

That's what I thought about the safe house, he replied to the voice. It's called a safe house, for God's sake.

In an act of pure will, he silenced the arguing voices in his head. Despite not wanting to leave her there, logically he knew – or at least hoped desperately – that she would be fine. After all, he had things he had to do – for her case. Things that would help her. Looking at her once more and wishing that he could stay there and keep watch over her, he forced himself to walk out of the waiting area and down the hall, heading to the locker room to shower and change clothes before he had to meet up with the team.

XXX

Jane woke up to the bright lights of the reception area, the same way Weller had about forty five minutes earlier. Her eyes flew open in a split second of panic, much like they had when she'd awoken in Weller's car. This time, however, it took her a little longer to remember where she was and how she had gotten there. After all, he wasn't there to remind her just by looking at her. She had to admit that she was more than a little disappointed not to see him there.

Hearing a gasp from outside his office, Dr. Borden looked up to see Jane, sitting halfway up and looking around, blinking quickly, having obviously woken up disoriented. He stood up from his desk and walked to the doorway, moving in her direction slowly. When she looked at him, he saw recognition in her eyes, and the terrified look began to fade from her face.

She looked down in confusion at the blanket that was covering her. Where did this come from? she wondered. "What time is it?" she asked Dr. Borden groggily.

"Almost 8:45 in the morning," Borden replied. "How are you feeling? I hear that you had a rather big day yesterday."

It was all she could do to grimace at him, because she was realizing more and more as she woke up just how sore she was. The side of her jaw hurt like hell, and as she thought back to the events of the previous day, she realized that that made a lot of sense. Bringing her hand up to the side of her face, she winced at even the slight touch of her own hand.

"Are you hurt?" Dr. Borden asked, noticing Jane's reaction.

"Just my jaw," Jane managed to reply, though she now realized that talking made her jaw feel worse. "Everything else is just sore."

Borden nodded, saying, "I won't be a moment," and then disappeared down the hall, leaving her there sitting on the couch, the blue blanket still half covering her. She tried to focus on something besides how sore she was all over and how much her jaw hurt, but it was really difficult just then.

I feel like I was in a car that flipped over on the side I was in, and then in some sort of cage match with a professional fighter, she thought to herself, shaking her head and adding sarcastically, Oh wait, I was.

Her muscles were screaming at her from all over, and yet… suddenly all she could think of was to wonder where Weller had gone. He'd been so good to her the night before... It was all still hazy, but the pieces were beginning to come back to her. She remembered him carefully wiping the blood that had splattered across her face when the unknown man had been shot in front of her off of her face… How he'd brought her back to the FBI building, looking so worried about her…

Looking down at the blanket in her lap, she wondered again where it had come from. Without warning, the color suddenly reminded her of the color of his eyes, an intense light blue. Get a grip, she told herself. It's just a blanket. Still, she squeezed a fistful of the soft material between her fingers, the texture of it a nice contrast to the way the rest of her body was feeling just then.

Borden returned a few minutes later with a large ice pack contained within a plastic bag, handing it to Jane. "For your jaw," he said.

She nodded, mumbling "Thanks" as well as she could without moving her jaw more than was necessary.

"Did you already have some painkillers?" Borden asked, holding a bottle in his hand.

Jane nodded in reply, trying to remember when that had been. "Yes, but the last time was… yesterday afternoon. The EMTs at the construction site in Brooklyn gave me some for my headache."

Borden nodded, opening the bottle. "Sounds like a few more may be in order now, in that case," he replied. "It looks like you have some water already." He looked at the table beside the end of the couch, where a bottle of water was sitting.

When did that get there? she wondered. She had a suspicion of who had left it there for her, and she couldn't help but smile faintly at the thought of him.

Borden approached her and shook two pills out into his hand, then put the tiny white capsules into the hand that she held out in front of her. She picked up the water bottle from the side table, opened it and quickly swallowed the pills, taking the ice pack off her face for a few seconds before the sting returned, and lifting it back against her cheek once more. This day was not off to a fantastic start.

She pulled her legs up beside her and leaned into the pillow on the end of the couch on which she had been sleeping, pulling the blanket back over her lap and sighing heavily.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her kindly. She knew that it was his job to get her to talk about things, but at that moment she really did feel that he genuinely wanted to help. Despite this, he was still basically a stranger to her, and her desire to confide in him was still rather low… besides that, she couldn't help but feel like she needed a few minutes – at least – before she was ready to talk about anything with anyone.

Her eyes closed as she shook her head, suddenly feeling a wave of emotions threaten to overpower her. "Not yet," she whispered, looking back up into the kind eyes of the man in front of her. He just nodded, stepping back.

At the door to his office he turned back and said. "Well, we're scheduled for a session this morning. So when you're ready, come on in. Would you like to go to the locker room and have a shower first, do you think?" She just looked at him blankly, shrugging. "Just think about it. I'm here catching up on things."

"After we're done can I… catch up with the team?" she asked hesitantly. Really, she wanted to see if there were any new developments in the case more than she wanted to do anything else.

"I would imagine so," he mused.

Interesting, he thought, already seeing her determination return, despite how shaken up she obviously was by the events of the previous day.

"But we do need to talk first," he added. She just nodded, and he turned and walked the rest of the way into his office.

It wasn't until a few hours later when Jane finally wandered into Dr. Borden's office. She had taken advantage of the chance to shower and change in the locker room – thanks mainly to a junior agent that Weller had dispatched the lead her back there and show her where she could find the things she needed, since he was still busy, and then lead her to the in-house doctor to have her examined. There had been no choice but to undergo a medical exam after everything that had happened to her the previous day, the junior agent had explained to her, so she had followed the other woman, whose name she had forgotten the minute she had been told, first to the clinic area, and then afterwards, back to Borden's office.

At ten thirty on the dot she had stood in Dr. Borden's doorway, frowning unhappily. To his credit, Borden had smiled at her calmly and ushered her into his office despite the slight scowl on her face. Now they sat across from each other in the same comfortable chairs, separated by a low coffee table, as they had the previous day, Jane once again clutching the ice pack to her face. Sighing heavily, she put it down on the table in front of her, looking at it in annoyance.

"Is it not cold anymore?" he asked, standing up to take the now warm ice pack. She just shook her head. He walked to a small refrigerator across the room and swung the door open, taking an identical one out and placing the now warm bag inside, then closing the door. Returning to his seat, he reached out and handed her the cold bag. As she placed it against her jaw, he saw her face relax ever so slightly in what must have been some degree of relief.

"Thanks," she mumbled. As much as she knew that Borden was trying to help her, she simply did not want to be there. She didn't want to talk to a stranger about how she was feeling, no matter how well meaning he was, or the fact that he was a professional. She didn't care that it would supposedly help, or that she had been ordered to do so. The only person who she wouldn't actually find confiding in was nowhere to be seen at that moment.

"Oh, I'd nearly forgotten," he told her, standing up and walking back to his desk, where he retrieved a white paper bag and a matching white cardboard cup. "I assumed that you hadn't had anything to eat this morning, so I stopped in the cafeteria and got you this. Sorry if the coffee has cooled off a bit," he said apologetically. He put the two items back down on the table in front of her, as she just stared at him in confusion. It wasn't that she didn't find him to be a kind person, from what little she knew of him, she was simply surprised and confused by his kindness. She had seen so few examples of kindness at all so far, each of them surprised her.

"Thank you," she said, swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat. It was only then that she realized that she was hungry. Reaching into the paper bag, she pulled out a bagel, and several small containers. Cream cheese, butter and strawberry jelly. Looking up at him, understanding exactly what he was doing, she couldn't help but smile slightly. "So I know what I like?" she asked, thinking back to the coffee versus tea trials in his office not very long ago. He just nodded, smiling back at her.

She took a drink of the coffee, appreciating the warmth that it still held, and then tried the various spreads with her bagel. Because of her still aching jaw, she took small bites, but eventually she had finished the whole thing, and Dr. Borden leaned forward to take away the trash. Jane tensed, holding the ice pack against her face once more as Borden sat back down across from her, knowing that she would now be expected to talk.

After sitting and staring at a spot on the far wall for several minutes, Jane leaned forward, her right hand still holding the ice pack against her cheek, leaning her right elbow propped up against her knee. She continued to stare somewhere off in the distance, at a spot on the ground across the room.

"It's alright to be upset," Dr. Borden told her evenly.

"I'm not upset," Jane replied.

"A home invasion is—" Dr. Borden continued, but Jane cut him off.

"That's not my home." Her voice was still even, but she was emphatic on this point, finally looking up at him.

He tried another track. "A break-in is an intimate violation." He paused, looking at her seriously. "But this is a real chance for us—"

Jane couldn't believe what she was hearing. Is this man for real? her thoughts screamed as she interrupted him once again. "I've been drugged, my memory has been erased, my entire body has been tattooed without my consent. A break-in at my safe house is the least intimate of my violations."

"And feelings of anger, feelings of resentment, are completely natural." He watched her eyes move away from him, flinching slightly as he called her on exactly what she must have been feeling. He continued speaking. "Do you feel safe, Jane?"

"I can handle myself," she replied after a split second delay, a wave of determination visible in her eyes.

"I can see that," Borden replied in agreement, "but that's not what I asked." Leaning forward towards her, he tried the question again, phrased more specifically. "Do you trust the FBI to keep you safe?"

She stared at him, swallowed hard, and then looked away. It wasn't a question with an easy answer. There were only a few people in all of her short memory who even had names to match with faces that she could recognize… and even most of them were still basically strangers.

Did she trust the FBI? Put like that, 'the FBI' was simply a collection of people she didn't know. Did she trust a group of strangers to keep her safe? Well, all things considered, they weren't doing such a great job so far, since she'd been attacked inside her safe house after being there only a few days. Checking off the people whose names she even knew in her head, besides the man sitting in front of her at that moment, who she doubted would be much help in a situation that required someone to keep her safe, the remaining people whose names she even knew were Mayfair, Reade, Zapata, Patterson and Weller.

Let's see, she thought to herself. Mayfair, Reade and Zapata looked at her skeptically, for the most part, not seeming to even trust her – did she trust them to protect her? Not really, no. She doubted that Mayfair would be much help. Reade and Zapata… maybe physically able – but then again, she could somehow just imagine them standing by and watching as she was attacked, looking at her distrustfully and debating whether or not they should help.

Patterson, on the other hand, seemed kinder and more trustworthy, but knowing what she knew about her own skills versus what she had seen of Patterson so far, Jane got the feeling that if it came down to it, it would be more likely that she would be the one keeping Patterson safe and not vice versa, if the situation ever arose.

And then there was Weller. It was true that he had been the one to leave her at the safe house immediately before she had been attacked. Technically, maybe she should have blamed him for that. For what, exactly? For not going in and checking more thoroughly, maybe? But no, surely there were other agents who had done that before her arrival. That detail of hers, most likely… No, as logical as it might have been to someone else to assign the blame for that attack to Weller, that was the last thing she thought when she thought of him. If anything, quite the opposite. When she paused to ask herself the question, she realized that of the only six people she knew, Weller was the only one she trusted at the moment – whether to keep her safe, or otherwise, really.

Finally exhaling slowly, she looked back up at Borden, her eyes boring into his for a few seconds before she spoke. His expression remained the same as it had the whole time. Calm. Interested, but not insistent. Kind, and yet detached. She supposed that his demeanor was a result of a great deal of training and practice. After all, this was his job.

"No," she said slowly. "I don't trust the FBI to keep me safe." He nodded in understanding, pausing before his next question. He was surprised then, when she continued speaking. "The FBI is a nameless, faceless organization to me. Why would I trust them? I don't know them, what they want from me… not really. And they haven't exactly done a fantastic job of keeping me safe so far." Borden nodded again, this time not assuming that she was finished speaking. Judging from her expression, there was more that she wanted to say.

"At this moment, I know six people – at least, whose names I actually know. And of those six people, I trust one person to keep me safe." Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, as if her words were an admission that she didn't want to voice aloud.

Borden was impressed that she was still talking. While she hadn't been difficult or sullen, exactly, she hadn't exactly been talkative either. He'd expected her to require more prompting before he got this much out of her. However, his question had seemed to jump start her thinking more successfully than he'd anticipated. Looking at her with raised eyebrows, he waited for her to tell him which of the agents to whom she was referring – though he was fairly sure he knew the answer.

"Weller," she said finally, looking him in the eye for a few seconds before her eyes darted down to the floor, continuing to move and then finally, after he was silent for a minute, watching her, looking back up at him. He simply nodded, waiting to see if there was anything else she wanted to add. However, she simply looked at him, almost defiantly, not saying anything else.

"That's good," Dr. Borden said finally, after a full minute of silence. "It's important to feel like you can trust someone. And in your place, I don't think most people would trust the FBI, or anyone else, either. We're all strangers to you, after all." He looked at her long and hard, as once again her eyes darted away from him, around the room, and then slowly, back to his face. "Just trust your instincts," he told her, looking at her sincerely. Then, after another long pause he added, "We're here to help you, Jane. All of us. However you feel about the FBI or about us individually is alright. None of this is easy."

She nodded, growing increasingly uncomfortable under Borden's scrutiny. Trust my instincts? she wanted to scream. What other choice do I have? I have nothing but my instincts. No memories to refer to, no one who can actually tell me who I am or what's going on… The more she thought about it, the more on edge she felt. Still, looking back at Dr. Borden, she felt like at least three of the six people she currently knew – Borden, Patterson and Weller – were at least sympathetic to her situation. The other three… well, time would tell, she supposed. Still, she'd had enough of being stared at by Borden for now.

As if sensing that Jane had had it just then, and feeling that sufficient progress had been made for the time being, Borden leaned back in his chair. "So, shall we say that we're done for now?" he asked her.

Relief flooded Jane at Borden's words. She wanted nothing in the world just then more than to be finished with this conversation and get back to work, back to the team, and to find out if they'd learned anything since the day before. She almost smiled at the man in front of her then, feeling her face relax and the frustration that had begun building the longer she sat there slowly begin to lessen. He stood up, and she followed his lead, following him out into the waiting area outside his office.

"Do you know that way from here?" he asked her kindly. His office wasn't far from her team's area, but she'd only been there for a very overwhelming few days so far.

"Yes, down there and around the corner," she replied with a nod toward the hallway.

"Alright then," he said kindly. "If you need anything… you know where I am."

"Okay… thanks," she told him awkwardly. He got the feeling that she wasn't ready to confide much of anything in him yet, but that was alright. Slow progress was to be expected in her case. He watched her until she was around the corner and out of view, headed towards Weller and his team, before returning to his office.

XXX

The first time Kurt saw Jane since he'd left her sleeping on the couch, he was standing in Mayfair's office, arguing with her about whether to tell Jane that she might be Taylor Shaw. Mayfair was skeptical of the results of the testing that Patterson was in the midst of running, and the eight hours that remained before those results would be ready seemed like an eternity to him. While he had to admit that logically, he understood why it would be wrong to tell her before the results were in, he was frustrated. No, he was beyond frustrated. He'd always trusted him instincts, and they were very rarely wrong. Jane was Taylor Shaw. He knew it, and he knew that the test would prove it. He was quickly losing his patience with Mayfair, who usually supported his gut instincts… but not this time.

When he looked over Mayfair's shoulder and saw Jane, standing in the bullpen and watching him, an ice pack clutched to her face, he suddenly forgot what they were talking about. When he stood and stared at her, without looking away, for a few seconds, Mayfair also turned to see what he was looking at, and saw Jane standing there looking in their direction before turning back to Kurt. She said something else to him, but he didn't hear her. They were finished, anyway. He had heard what she had said about keeping Jane's possible identity a secret, though he didn't like it one bit.

Don't tell Jane your theory. Mayfair words echoed in his head, and as much as he knew he was right, that she was Taylor, he also knew that he had been given a directive and would have to follow it. The test results will prove me right, he thought, still frustrating but taking what little satisfaction he could get from this fact. Without another word he turned and pushed through the glass doors out of Mayfair's office, anxious to see how Jane was feeling.

Jane saw him walking toward her with a serious look on his face. While some people might have been intimidated by the approach of stern faced Kurt Weller, Jane felt the opposite. She was relieved to have found him, relieved that as she stood there watching him, he'd decided to come out of the office and talk to her. Besides being anxious to get an update on what was going on, she was also calmed just by his increasing proximity to her.

"Doctors clear you?" he asked, before he'd even reached her. He came to a stop with about two feet between them. He felt the urge to move closer, and yet, he didn't, reminding himself to maintain his professional distance.

"Yeah," she replied, and seeing the look of concern on his face as he looked at the ice pack she was holding up to her jaw, she held it away from her for a second, glancing at it and deciding it would be easier to talk to him without it against her face, at least for a moment. She let her right hand fall down by her side.

"My jaw is killing me," she told him, and then, not one to let what she had seen slide, "What were you and Mayfair talking about?" Whatever it had been, he hadn't looked happy.

"We were just wrapping up another case," he told her. He hated to lie to her, of course, but he obviously couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet, anyway, despite how much he wanted to. Then, attempting to change the subject, he added, "I'm sorry this happened to you, Jane." They turned and began walking away from the large screens at the end of the room, side by side.

"Which part? A lot has happened to me recently," she observed wryly. She didn't blame him, but she couldn't resist the chance to call attention to her situation.

"All of it," he replied without skipping a beat. It was the truth, after all. What this woman had been through was unthinkable. "We are going to move you to a more secure place." While he certainly wasn't glad that she had been attacked, he was glad that there was an excuse to move her out of the safe house that he had felt wasn't up to par to start with. Obviously, it hadn't been, or that man wouldn't have been able to break in…

"Do we know who he was?" Jane asked quickly.

"No, he's the same as you. No prints, no DNA. No trace of him in the system."

She stopped walking, the weight of his words sinking in. They still didn't know anything. Nothing about the man who had broken into her supposedly secure safe house and attacked her… but she known him… before… and they had learned nothing from him, and now they never would. The realization was hitting her slowly, but hitting harder every second. Weller had stopped beside her, turning back around to face her when he'd realized that she was no longer walking beside him.

"No… I remember him. We used to know each other before all this. We trained together. I think he was my friend." She seemed unable to accept that they had learned nothing about this man. There had to be something…

Weller looked at her for a few seconds as he processed this information, his eyes darting back and forth across her face. "Did he say anything to you?"

For a split second, she was back inside the grainy black image of her long haired, un-tattooed self, standing in the snowy woods with the man who had been killed in her safe house the night before, and then for another few seconds she saw him standing in front of her, in the safe house, heard him telling her, "You can't trust them." But who couldn't she trust? More flashes that moved even more quickly, one of them of the same man, lying dead on the floor, and then something that looked like an x-ray held up against a light, but the flashes came too quickly for her to identify… and then suddenly, she saw Weller in front of her once more.

"You don't know anything about him? How he got into the safe house or who shot him?" she asked, fighting to keep desperation out of her voice despite her frustration.

"No. We're working on it, Jane," he told her.

She stared at him for a few seconds, as if she was unwilling to hear this answer, before lowering her eyes as they darted quickly around, then back up to his.

"No, he didn't say anything. He didn't have time," she said in resignation. She didn't even know why she was lying to him, this man who had been so good to her so far. Even though she hated herself a little bit for doing it, she couldn't shake the sense of hesitation… Who can't I trust? So far the only they she knew was the FBI. But surely that wasn't what that man had meant… It as almost impossible to believe, when she looked into Weller's eyes, that she couldn't trust him. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to tell him what the man had told her.

They stared at each other intensely for a few seconds before Jane continued. "So we're nowhere closer to knowing who I am?" Weller, as much as he hated to lie to her, knew that he had no choice – he couldn't look at her for a second, feeling guilty, and his eyes wandered toward the ceiling off to his left, his face tensing in frustration stemming from both the fact that he couldn't yet tell her his theory, and the fact that they really hadn't learned anything from the man in Jane's safe house. He managed to bring his eyes back to meet hers as he replied, "No."

She swallowed hard, helplessness once again suddenly threatening to crush her. How was she going to go on like this? Everything that should give them leads was turning up nothing… She stared into his eyes, feeling once again like she was sinking, drowning…

"I'm sorry, Jane," he said quietly, wishing there was something else he could do for her. She looked away, unable to meet his eyes any longer and willing herself to hold it together.

I've broken down in front of him enough times already, she warned herself. Not again. Not here, of all places.

They were staring at each other, Weller trying to decide whether he was going to be able to resist laying his hand on her arm, the only sort of comfort that he could think of that he could provide just then, or if that would be too much, when Reade suddenly walked up beside them.

"Hey, you're going to want to see this," he said simply, before turning to walk back down the hall toward Patterson's lab. Weller stared into Jane's eyes for another few seconds, seeing her anguish seem to spike, and wishing that he could have remained right where he was, giving her his full attention. Of course, that wasn't an option, so he slowly turned to follow Reade, who had already disappeared around the corner. After a few seconds' hesitation, Jane followed as well. After all, there may have been a break in the case.

When they reached the lab, the others were already inside. Weller had stopped outside the door, turning part way around and waited for her to catch up with him. Stopping a little closer to him than she had been when he'd been in front of her a minute before, she looked at him with pleading in her eyes, no longer caring how desperate she looked. The abyss loomed near and dark and she was once again on the edge of it, teetering ever closer to falling in. He was the only thing that could stop her from falling in, but she didn't know how to vocalize any of this, so all she could do was stare at him, looking terrified.

Looking at her carefully, he could see the face of someone who was trying desperately to hold on, but who was on the verge of losing the battle. He pushed his mouth into a tiny, sad smile, which was the best he could do, hating that there was no more concrete way that he could reassure her. When the muscles in her face seemed to relax slightly in reply, though her expression still remained heartbreakingly sad, he took it as both a sign that he was getting through to her, as well as, for some reason, a wordless articulation of her need for just a little more from him. He laid his right hand on her left arm, mid-way between her elbow and her shoulder, as he'd considering before Reade had intruded on their moment, squeezing gently, and watched as she seemed to breathe easier.

The feeling of warmth from the point on her arm where he held onto her seemed to radiate outward immediately through her entire body, and she felt her cheeks flush with color at once. She just hoped that it wasn't too obvious…

"Come on," he whispered, "let's go in and see what's going on." She smiled slightly, feeling as though she'd mentally taken a step back from the edge of that abyss that still stared at her, trying to tempt her into leaning towards it. However, just then it was easier to feel like just maybe, she would make it, at least through today. Making it through one day at a time, was a pretty short term goal, and yet the hours that spread out between that moment and the end of the day seemed to stretch on until eternity, if she let herself think about them too hard…

Yes, she would just make it her goal to make it through this one day, and then take it from there. And as she glanced at Weller's hand on her arm, then back up into his eyes with a small nod, it seemed more than possible that she could make it. At least through this one day.

Even after he had removed his hand from her arm and turned toward the door, holding it open for her and waiting while she went through before he did the same, the warmth from his hand on her arm remained.

As they joined the group and listened to Patterson talk about a bank robbery, still the feeling continued to bolster her determination. Even without using words, he had reassured her once again that it would be alright. Mostly because she so badly wanted to believe it, she allowed herself to entertain the idea.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be.

A/N: After coming directly from the end of Beach Weekend, it's killing me to write these two with so much SPACE between them – emotionally and physically. But I'm trying to keep it true to episode 3, knowing now so much more of what lies ahead than I did the last time I posted a chapter of this story… Thank you all for reading!