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: It feels strange posting this the day after episode 220, especially since this chapter happened SO long ago, but if you want to, just think of this as a flashback. I feel like I should apologize for the lack of kissing, however. For the time that this chapter took place, it just wouldn't have been appropriate (I know, some of you will tell me that Jane and Kurt kissing is always appropriate… but at that time it truly wasn't!) The next thing I post will definitely be fluffy Jeller, I promise.
Season 1, between episodes 3 and 4
As he stood in the elevator beside her, their eyes met. Hers were still full of panic, and he worked hard to project a calm he only partially felt.
Looking into her eyes, he felt himself tumbling farther into them than he'd expected. That was the best way he could describe the sensation, and all of a sudden he felt overwhelmed by emotion all over again. Judging from her face, she hadn't stopped being overwhelmed since Patterson had said those four words.
You are Taylor Shaw.
He got the feeling that if he'd been alone, his mind would have been reeling, but as it was, seeing Jane's panic, he automatically felt himself trying to project calm because it seemed to be what she needed. When she leaned her head back against the metallic wall of the elevator and closed her eyes, severing their eye contact, he felt as though he'd just snapped out of some kind of trance. It wasn't that he hadn't liked the feeling, the connection. On the contrary, he found that he missed it now that it was gone. He continued to watch her, conscious of every slight movement that she made, until the familiar ding of the elevator told him that they'd arrived on the floor where they needed to get off.
She heard the noise, which she knew meant that it was time to open her eyes and move, and yet… and couldn't bring herself to do either of those things. When a few seconds passed and she remained still, trapped inside her swirling thoughts, she felt a hand tentatively land on her arm.
"Jane, come on. This is our stop," he told her gently, a hint of affection in his voice that surprised her. For that split second, she just smiled, enjoying both the feeling of contact once again and the sound of his voice. She didn't know what it was about his voice that seemed to be able to cut through all the noise in her head, even when he was speaking as softly as he was just them. Finally opening her eyes, she saw the concern on his face, and nodded slightly, pushing herself up off of the back wall of the elevator, watching him hold the doors open with his left hand as, once she was clear of the wall and slowly moving forward, his right hand once again just barely landed against her lower back, almost not touching her, and yet, very definitely there.
Somehow she walked beside him, even though she felt numb all over. She had no idea where they were going, and she didn't try to guess. She certainly hadn't seen too much of the NYO yet, and she was fairly sure that she wouldn't even recognize the parts of it that she had seen, she was so lost in her own head. It was all she could do to follow his lead and let herself be steered one way or another through the hallways that all seemed to look the same. They came to a door, which Weller pulled open to reveal rows of lockers, motioning her forward, the slight pressure on her back increasing, telling her to go in first. She looked at him for a split second, and his smile and the tilt of his head seemed to reinforce that yes, she should go through the door in front of him. Turning to look in front of her, she did just that, moving inside enough that he could join her and then directing her to the right. In a few more seconds he'd stopped by his locker, his hand finally dropping from her back so that he could undo the lock.
She sank down onto the bench that ran between the rows of lockers on either side, suddenly feeling weak without the jolt of energy that contact with him delivered. If the bench had been a little wider, she could probably have curled up and gone to sleep right there, she thought. It was an appealing thought, going to sleep… her body was exhausted from the stress of everything that had happened that day. And yet at the same time, her mind felt so wide awake from the noise level in her head, she wasn't sure she'd ever sleep again.
Weller looked down at her as he gathered his things from his locker, noticing that she was staring blankly off to one side, clearly overwhelmed. He watched her for a few seconds before realizing what he was doing, then closed his locker and cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. You ready to go?" he asked her.
The sound of him clearing his throat pulled her back out of her thoughts and she looked up at him. She heard the words he said, asking her if she was ready to go, but it took a few extra seconds for her to process them and formulate a response. Nodding slowly, she tried to push herself back up onto her feet, finding that she didn't even have the strength to do that much. Looking up at him and feeling pitiful, she took the hand that he offered her, smiling weakly but gratefully. Even with the help, once she was on her feet she felt as though it had just taken all of her effort just to get there, leaving her standing there without the power to make herself move. Feeling awkward just standing there with her hand in his, he released it, both of their hands dropping back to their sides.
Remembering that he'd asked her a question, she mumbled a much delayed, "Yeah," meaning that she was ready to go. He'd been looking at her with concern, and now his mouth curved into a small smile. Of course she didn't know it, but it actually counted as a big smile for Weller, one that the other agents on his team didn't necessarily get to see all that often. Starting back towards the door they'd come in through just a moment before, he once again gently propelled her forward with his hand just barely touching her lower back. He wasn't sure if it was just a coincidence, but he could've sworn he saw her smile just a little when his hand landed there.
Probably just a coincidence, he told himself as they made their way toward the door that opened onto the hallway. She's exhausted and overwhelmed.
A few minutes later they found themselves in the parking garage, where she blinked rapidly under the florescent lights. Once again he held the door open for her, motioning her through first. After taking two steps into the garage she stopped, not having the slightest idea where to go, of course, turning to look for him over her shoulder.
It was such a helpless feeling, and yet it was a feeling that she'd had more or less ever since she'd emerged from that bag in Times Square. Yes, she now knew a little bit that she hadn't known then, but not very much. These past days had brought far more questions than answers. Even the answer to her identity – that she was Taylor Shaw – only left her with more questions. The list seemed never ending, and any answer that she did find would inevitably only lead to ten new questions. Knowing her name didn't help – it hadn't brought back anything else. No memories, no hints, not even a familiar feeling. On the contrary, it had only made her questions more focused.
What kind of kid had she been?
Where was her family?
What did she like and dislike?
Taylor had disappeared at such a young age… Who would take a child so young? What had been done to her back then? Should she not want to remember, even though she desperately did?
Where had she been for twenty-five years?
And the biggest ones – or some of the biggest, anyway…
How had she lost her entire memory?
Why was she covered in tattoos?
How had she ended up in that bag in Times Square? Someone had done this to her… but who?
Her head was beginning to ache, and she didn't realize that she'd been staring absently into space for more than a few seconds until Weller's voice cut through her thoughts once again.
"Jane," he said, and she could hear the concern, even in just that one word. Looking back at him, she was startled at the jolt she felt when their eyes met. It wasn't something she knew how to explain. The only way she could describe it was that the look on his face matched the way she felt inside, and that surprising familiarity was soothing. She swallowed hard, feeling too many things at once. Relieved. Frightened. Hopeful. Anxious. And for some reason… suddenly breathless. She remembered how exhausted she felt all over again, wondering if she would be able to hold herself up, or if she would just sink to the floor of the parking garage where she stood.
He stood and watched her for a few seconds, transfixed. Even though it had been a little while since Patterson had given them the news now, for a second it hit him yet again. It was proving impossible to wrap his mind around this, or to even for sentences, really. But he only needed one word.
Taylor.
Once you've searched for someone for twenty-five years, how do you bend your mind around the fact that you've actually found them? Finding her was all he'd wanted since he was ten years old, and there she was in front of him. What was the appropriate emotion at a time like this? He was pretty sure that he was feeling all of them at once.
And yet, he couldn't bring himself to call her Taylor. As much as it meant to him to be told that after all those years of heartache, he'd found his childhood friend… Taylor had always been five years old in his mind. He'd only just met Jane a few days ago, but to him, that was her name. Jane. Never mind that he knew that the FBI had given her that name, that the odds that her real name was Jane would have been almost zero. It was one name in a million. Still, none of that mattered. It felt strange to call her as anything other than Jane, even knowing that she was Taylor.
He wondered how Jane felt about being called Jane. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say that being Taylor hadn't really cleared things up for her. At that moment, she looked really and truly freaked out, and he decided that it was probably better to let her keep on being Jane, at least until she told him otherwise. That was when he realized that she was lost in thought, her face looking stricken, and that he'd gotten lost in his own thoughts as well, standing there somewhat mesmerized by her.
You are Taylor Shaw. Patterson's words echoed through his head again once more, but he forced himself back to reality.
"Come on," he said quietly, breaking the silence and pulling them both back to the present, "it's not too much farther."
Her eyes moved to his face, and a small, grateful expression appeared on her lips. It wasn't quite a smile, exactly… more the look of a drowning woman grabbing onto a flotation device – there was desperation in her pained look. It didn't dissipate completely, but it did lessen when she looked at him.
For a second, he almost forgot to breathe.
Reminding himself to turn and walk toward the car, his hand once again moved behind her. It was an instinctive gesture, one that he didn't even consider. He'd used it on other occasions, and not just with Jane… but this felt different somehow. He didn't know why he thought of that, but once he had it became glaringly obvious in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he'd used the gesture more with Jane than he had even compared with women that he'd known for far longer, or with whom he'd had far closer relationships. He made a mental note to pay closer attention to what he was doing, letting his hand fall back to his side as they approached his black SUV.
She glanced over her shoulder at him when she felt his hand leave her back, a confirmation that he was still there since there was no longer even that slight contact between them.
His eyes were on her as soon as she turned her head toward him. Truth be told, his eyes had been on her before that, too. Perhaps not surprisingly, he had even more trouble looking away from her now than he had at first. It was as though every second in which he wasn't directing his mind toward a particular task, it fell back to attempting to process the idea that he'd found Taylor.
After clicking the keyfab, he reached past her and opened the car door as she stood there looking down awkwardly for a second, just waiting. "Thanks," she mumbled as she climbed up, and was surprised when she looked up a few seconds later, now settled in her seat, and he was still standing there, ready to close the door for her as well. She smiled at him, then quickly looked down, unsure what exactly was going on.
A few seconds later her door was closed with a bang that echoed in the stillness of the garage, and when she glanced up again, he was walking around the front of the car. Her eyes tracked him through the windshield, a faint smile on her lips despite the feeling of tension that was sprinkled with everything else she was feeling – none of which she could really identify. Her head leaned back against the seat behind her, and a feeling of tiredness suddenly threatened to swallow her as her eyes fell closed. She couldn't quite decide if it was more physical or mental tiredness, or if it was both.
Climbing into his seat, his eyes immediately went to Jane. Her head was leaned back, her face turned slightly in his direction, and for a second he wondered if she had fallen asleep that quickly. Only a second later, however, her eyes popped open and they found themselves suddenly looking at each other once more. As he watched, he saw the anxiety on her face lessen slightly as she looked at him, a weak smile forming on her face. He had to fight the urge to reach for her, knowing that it wasn't appropriate, despite how insistently the urge pulled at him.
Instead, he simply smiled back at her. There was something about Jane that made it impossible not to smile at her.
It's because she's not just anyone. She's Taylor, his mind reminded him as if it should have been obvious.
Maybe, he reluctantly conceded. Was that what it was? Or was there more?
Glancing behind them, he reversed the car out of the parking space and then navigated through the garage to the exit, then out onto the streets. It was still light outside, though the sun must have just set. Everything had the glow that comes when the light softens, that perfect, faint glow that makes everyone and everything look so photogenic. It wasn't referred to as the Golden Hour for nothing. Glancing back at Jane as he checked to see that the traffic was clear at the stop sign at the next corner, he found that she was even more mesmerizing in this light.
Eyes on the road, Weller, the voice in his head reminded him. With great effort, he pulled his eyes from Jane yet again. This was going to make driving a little more difficult.
Taylor, he kept hearing in his head. She's really here.
Meanwhile, in the seat beside him, Jane was fighting off exhaustion. Taylor Shaw, her mind kept repeating, as it had been since Patterson had told them the news. Of course, it didn't mean very much to her, but it did mean something. It meant that she had an identity. Well, maybe not a whole identity, since that implied that she knew something about this person she'd been told that she was. But at least she had a name… For whatever good that did her. The fact that Kurt Weller's name was on her back… well, that was both comforting and frightening. People just didn't walk around with stranger's names on their backs in permanent ink. At least, as far as she knew, they didn't.
He seemed to know where they were going, and she didn't question it. After all, she only knew of a total of, what? Four places, including the FBI? Since they'd just left there, that left three. It didn't even make sense to her to ask where they were going, and she didn't have the energy anyway. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about the fact that he kept looking over at her, she turned to look out the window to her right. The colors were mesmerizing – there seemed to be neon signs everywhere, and as her eyelids grew heavy again, the colors ran closer and closer together until her eyes closed against her will. She simply had no say as the movement of the car, despite the stop and go nature of traffic at that hour, quickly rocked her to sleep.
Looking over at her shortly thereafter, Weller couldn't help but smile. The lines of tension were still visible in her face, but they had softened, and this time she really did appear to be asleep. She seemed to be making a habit of falling asleep in his car. He smiled at the thought at first, but then stopped abruptly, wondering what that meant for how she was sleeping at night at her safe house. Yes, what she was going through was overwhelming, but if she was this tired this often, that didn't say much for how her nights were going.
You can't really blame her, the voice in his head interjected. How would you be sleeping, if you were her? He had to admit that that was a valid point. Besides, she must feel safe with you, or it seems doubtful that she'd let herself sleep like this, the voice added.
Or she's just that exhausted. Or, it just means that I'm really boring, he interjected in his head.
If the voice in his head had its own pair of eyes, its tone implied that they would have been rolling. Have you seen the way she looks at you? it demanded. You're anything but boring to her, and you know it. He liked to believe that was true, even though the thought sent warning bells though the back of his mind. She was a victim, after all… or an asset… In any case, he was the lead agent on her case. He was supposed to be professional.
She's Taylor, the voice reminded him. There is a zero percent chance of you treating her case like any other case. While he could acknowledge that this was true, he also believed with staunch determination that that didn't make him unfit to be lead agent. If anything, it made it absolutely necessary to remain in charge of her case. After all, no one else would possibly do an acceptable job of protecting her and of finding out the truth.
He ignored a nagging sensation in the back of his mind on the subject that questioned whether this absolute certainty he felt wasn't the very sign that he was unfit to lead this case. That obviously didn't apply to him on this case.
Eyes on the road, please, the voice in his head reminded him, and he realized that his gaze had lingered just a little too long on a sleeping Jane.
The traffic light in front of him had turned green, so he followed the flow of traffic another few blocks, pulling up to the curb in front of a deli that he'd stopped at many times before on his way home from work. Not wanting to disturb her, he made sure to open his door as quietly as possible, pushing the lock button on the inside of his door and then closing it only just hard enough to make sure that the lock could engage.
Once he was on the sidewalk, he stopped and looked at her through the passenger side window, which she was leaning against slightly. Again, he had to remind himself to turn around and walk away, since that was the only way to get what he'd stopped for – as much as he hated the idea of letting her out of his sight for even a second just then.
Isn't that how I lost her in the first place? he asked himself. The thought felt like a blow to the stomach, and he had to shift his weight, putting out his hands as if he thought he was going to fall down before regaining his balance.
The car that contained her security detail had pulled up behind them, he noticed, so he knew that he really didn't have to worry, but he couldn't help it.
The doors are locked. This is a safe part of town. She's not going to just run away, and her detail will be here for the two minutes you're in the store, he told himself. Most importantly, she's not five years old anymore. And in case you've forgotten, she's not exactly helpless when it comes to self-defense. Still, as he walked across the sidewalk to the small deli, glancing back over his shoulder, he felt as though he was abandoning her.
Just get your food and come back out here, then, the voice in his head told him impatiently. Knowing that that was the only option besides not picking up food at all, which seemed impractical, he finally forced himself to tear his eyes away from her and duck through the doorway.
Only a minute later, Jane began to stir. There was something different, her mind knew, but not more than that. For a second, even before she had opened her eyes, she struggled to remember where she was, panic overtaking her. However, opening her eyes helped, because she recognized her immediate surroundings as Weller's car, even though she was disappointed not to see him anywhere nearby. Glancing around at the area outside of the car, she noticed that they were parked in front of a small deli. From the setting sun she gathered that it was around dinner time, so she hazarded a guess that he'd stepped inside to pick up something to eat.
Her momentary panic abated as she watched the people coming and going on the sidewalk outside her window with interest. So many people, all moving with determination around each other. Some looked happy, chatting animatedly with the person beside them, while others moved along more solemnly on their own. The one thing they all had in common was that they all clearly had somewhere to go, busy lives to get on with. And then there she was, sitting off to the side, perfectly still, just watching them. It seemed absolutely fitting.
She felt herself shiver, a feeling of discomfort that she couldn't have articulated if she'd tried suddenly coming over her. Suddenly, the people outside were moving too quickly, and she had to look away.
And what do I have? she wondered sadly. An empty safe house. A body covered in cryptic tattoos, which make me look like some kind of freak. A security detail. Speaking of which, where are they? She craned her neck and looked around, finding a dark colored sedan just behind Kurt's SUV with two men in the front seat dressed suspiciously like FBI agents. She couldn't tell if she recognized either of them from where she was, but they both looked exactly nondescript enough.
As she turned back around in her seat, having momentarily distracted herself, she came back to contemplating what little she had.
You have a name now, the voice in her head reminded her. Taylor Shaw. So you have more than you had this morning.
I don't feel like Taylor Shaw, she replied. Taylor's a girl that Agent Weller used to know. She's even more of a stranger to me that I am.
Give it time, the voice coaxed her soothingly. It's going to get better.
She couldn't help but sigh then, watching the people crisscross in front of her once again and suddenly feeling adrift in a sea of movement. Allowing her eyes to unfocus, she stared out the window but was no longer taking in the scene in front of her, and that was when Weller emerged from the deli, plastic bag in hand.
The first thing he focused on as he exited the door of the deli was his own car, straining to see Jane in the window through the crowd. There she was, right where he'd left her, as was the car behind his, where her detail sat surveying the scene. He noticed that she'd woken up, and he hoped it hadn't been too startling to wake up in a strange place by herself.
Weaving his way across the crowd on the sidewalk, he noticed that she was staring into space. It wasn't too much of a surprise, then, when he opened the driver's side door and climbed into the car to find her looking at him with a slightly startled expression.
"Hey, sorry to disappear on you for a few minutes," he told her. "I got us something to eat."
Feeling even more relief than she'd expected that he was there again, she couldn't help but smile. "That's okay. I was a little confused at first, but I figured that was what happened." Her eyes flicked back to the crowds on the sidewalk. "It's busy out there," she observed.
"Lots of people on their way home at once," he replied. There was something about the look on her face that seemed concerned, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Rush hour on the streets and the sidewalks, too." Watching as she nodded distractedly but kept staring outside with a slight frown, he felt as though he should change the subject, despite not knowing quite why.
"Ready?" he asked her, attempting to draw her attention back to him. He was rewarded by her attention, and if he didn't know better, he would have said that she looked at him gratefully when she turned to look at him again. Still, she wasn't quite smiling.
With a shrug, she replied as lightly as she could, though she felt anything but. "Whenever you are."
What else do I have to do in the next… rest of my life? she added in her head, feeling more than a twinge of sadness.
Her eyes darted back to the front windshield as she tried to focus on the cars in front of her rather than the people on the sidewalk who made her feel so anxious, or the man behind her who was so intently focused on her.
He's looking at me like that because Patterson said I was Taylor, she thought. But how can I be Taylor? I don't know her. How can you be someone you don't even know?
You are Taylor Shaw. Agent Patterson's words echoed in her head.
Why does it almost feel worse to have a name than not to have a name? she wondered.
Probably because Weller knows – knew – Taylor Shaw so well, her mind suggested. After all, it's more than a little disconcerting not to know yourself, especially when you're around someone who knew did.
She was grateful to him for everything he was doing for her, but now that they knew that she was the girl he'd been searching for… he was looking at her with such familiarity, it made her a little uncomfortable. Of course, it's not as though the looks he gave her were completely unpleasant. On the contrary, there had been a connection between them from the beginning – and now she knew why. Or at least, that was probably why. It made her a little sad, though, because if she couldn't be the Taylor he remembered – which obviously, she couldn't… what then?
Maybe it's just me, she wondered. Maybe he's looking at me exactly the same way and I'm just being overly sensitive.
That thought was disconcerting as well, because it meant that it was all in her head. Basically, no matter how she thought about it, she didn't feel better. The more she thought, the tenser she got it. Gritting her teeth, she tried to simply watch the traffic ahead of them and not think. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd fall back to sleep.
Weller glanced at her more than he should have while driving, but he simply couldn't help himself. She seemed distracted, and not as relaxed as she had been earlier. Not that she'd really been comfortable at any point, but she seemed less so now. Since he couldn't think of anything to say, they simply rode in silence. After all, they both had so much to think about, and at that moment it didn't seem necessary to add to the noise in his head.
Finally, he pulled the car to a stop along the curb once again. It was less crowded here, she noticed. More residential. "I live down the street," he said, "but I like to come here to think, or when I just need to get out of my apartment." Glancing out her window, she saw a small park a little farther down the block, and she realized that that was their destination. He was already out of the car as she slowly unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, glancing up to see the same car behind them that she'd seen earlier, outside the deli.
He stood and waited for her on the sidewalk, holding the plastic bag from the deli, watching her move slowly and deliberately. Inside, he felt a little bit giddy. It was unbelievable that Taylor had been brought back to him, and he really couldn't get it through his head. He kept remembering it and then getting excited all over again. It was much harder for her to internalize, he knew, since she didn't remember being Taylor, so he tried not to let his excitement show through too much. After all, that would have undoubtedly been overwhelming for her, and she was overwhelmed enough. Still… it was impossible not to smile just a little more. The impossible had happened.
And then he looked into her eyes, and was surprised, almost stunned, by the sadness he saw there.
Well, how would you feel, he asked himself, if it was you that this was happening to? If you had been robbed of every one of your memories.
That could be a blessing, he reasoned, feeling the sting of a past that he didn't usually let himself think about.
You think so because you remember, the voice in his head countered. But if you didn't know all of those things that you wish you didn't, you wouldn't know that that was a blessing. You'd feel as lost as she looks.
I suppose, he conceded as they approached the park. With a start he realized that his hand was just barely on her back yet again, even though he had no memory of putting it there. He had been trying to wrap his head around what it all meant for Taylor. Jane.
Glancing at her again, he saw that she was looking ahead, but mostly at the ground, appearing to concentrate hard. He sympathized with her so very much, but he didn't know what he could do beyond what he and the team were already doing. They would get to the bottom of it, but it was like he'd told her – it was going to take time. That was probably one of the hardest things to deal with – besides the whole memory being erased thing, of course.
When he stopped at a bench along the main path through the park, she was relieved to have the chance to sit down again. Tiredness flooded through her veins and traveled to every part of her body as she was finally able to stop forcing herself to move. It was frustrating because she knew that when she finally tried to sleep, later, she would probably just lie awake with questions swirling through her mind.
He sat down beside her, leaving a small space. He had the urge to keep her close, but at the same time was very conscious of the fact that even though she wasn't a stranger, she was. Actually, to be more accurate, he was more of a stranger to her than she was to him. Still, twenty-five years apart still made them both practically strangers, he tried to remind himself, and it wouldn't do him any good to make her uncomfortable.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her. It seemed to take her a minute to pull herself out of her thoughts before she looked at him and shook her head.
"No," she replied apologetically. "Not right now." She even felt guilty about not being hungry. What exactly is wrong with me? she wondered.
You mean besides having had your memory erased, your body covered in tattoos and now apparently being the long lost childhood friend of the man whose name is tattooed on your back? she asked herself.
Okay, fine, that's enough, the voice in her head conceded. You have a right to feel… uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable? she repeated incredulously in her head. I think this goes a little beyond uncomfortable.
"That's okay," he replied with a shrug, watching her carefully.
Those two words stirred her back out of her thoughts again, and she forced herself to smile at him, hoping to convey gratitude. After all, as painfully messed up as it all was, it certainly wasn't his fault. If anything, it was quite the opposite. She was the one bringing upheaval into his life, and he was being nothing but kind to her.
Her smile was small and, he thought, sad, but even so, he was surprised at the impact it had on him. He felt an ache in his chest and wished that he could do something to alleviate the stress and heartache that she as obviously feeling.
You are doing something, he reminded himself.
Look at her and tell me that what I'm doing is enough, he countered. His mission, through everything, had always been finding Taylor. Now that he had, his mission had shifted. Now he had to not only find out what had happened to her – who had done it, and why – but perhaps even more importantly, he had to help her adjust. Not just that, he had to stop her from looking so sad. His heart simply couldn't take the broken look on her face.
You are Taylor Shaw. Patterson's words floated through his head once more, and he smiled at her. It was all so complicated, and yet, the simplest part of it was so easy to overlook.
She was Taylor, and she was sitting on the bench beside him.
As many thoughts as were flying through her head, including the ridiculousness of apologizing for not being hungry, she watched as he smiled at her. She was surprised, then, at how his smile immediately quieted the rest of the noise in her head. As she focused on him, the rest of her thoughts simply faded to background noise, and she felt like it might somehow all be okay.
It's only because he wants you to be Taylor, she thought warily in the back of her mind. When he realizes you can't, it's all going to go away. All of it.
Maybe, she conceded, her smile dimming just a fraction.
And yet she couldn't help by slightly mesmerized by his smile. Just then, she needed something to cling to so that her thoughts didn't drag her under, and his smile was exactly the life raft she needed. Maybe he would withdraw it later, when he realized that she couldn't be who he wanted her to be, but she would simply have to deal with that later. For the time being, she would accept his help gratefully.
The only other option was to drown, after all.
And so they sat on the bench in the park at the end of Weller's street. Eventually they did eat, Jane eating a small piece of both a turkey sub and a tuna sandwich, at Weller's insistence, so that she could taste two different things and continue to discover more of her likes and dislikes.
By the time it was late enough that they were forced to agree that it was time to go, her eyes seemed less haunted. As he sat and looked into them for a few extra seconds before they stood up, he couldn't help but think that that was, perhaps, his biggest accomplishment of the day.
Never mind that he had been working for the FBI for many years, solving hundreds of cases involving dangerous criminals. It was in that second, sitting on a bench beside Jane and watching her slowly relax and even smile a little bit, that he felt like he'd done something more important than anything else he'd done in the past twenty-five years.
Seeing the light creep slowly back into Jane's eyes, he knew. He didn't know quite what he knew… he just knew.