This one was written for the prompt 'Language'. It's set sometime in S2 but was written prior to the premiere.

Enjoy.


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He was getting really sick of being punched in the face.

He wasn't really a fan of being tied up, blindfolded, and tossed onto a concrete floor, either.

Gritting his teeth, Weller focused his attention, picturing the space as it had been in the brief glimpse he'd gotten.

Dim warehouse, maybe fifty feet across. Large stock crates stacked around the edges of the room. Three exits; one at his 12, 6, and 9 o'clock. Ten men arrayed around him, all bearing semiautomatics and a bad attitude.

And then there was Jane.

Every few seconds, he felt the brush of her shoulder against his as she took a deep breath, the small touch both a comfort and an unwelcome reminder that he would not be alone in the fate that awaited him. Letting out a slow breath of his own, he shifted just a fraction to press his shoulder against hers, feeling her tense instantly at the contact– and then relax a second later, leaning into him slightly.

It was the only reassurance that either of them could give; but for him, it was enough.

Somewhere in front of them, he could hear two men– including the very one they'd come here trying to find– conversing heatedly in Mandarin, no doubt debating exactly when and how to kill them with minimal inconvenience.

Jane, of course, wouldn't have to guess. Jane would no doubt already know exactly how they were about to die.

Because they would. They'd have to. Even with what little they'd managed to learn about this smuggling ring before being jumped, they would surely already be considered far too much of a liability to be allowed to live.

And there was no chance of backup, either, no help on the way; right now, Reade and Zapata were several warehouses over, searching for what he and Jane had already found. No one had any idea of the trouble they were in, which meant they were completely on their own.

No one was coming to save them.

Hell, Jane shouldn't have even needed saving.

There'd been a moment in which the men had only seen him; in those few seconds, she could have easily slipped out the door beside her, could have made a run for it. Instead, as the semiautomatics had pointed his way, she'd only stepped closer, hands already in the air.

Because of course she had. She was Jane, and even if they hadn't spoken about anything not directly case-related in weeks– not since she'd come back to the FBI– he'd have to have been blind not to see everything she had been doing to prove herself, her determination and dedication to the team as strong as it had ever been.

She'd been speaking to him through her actions, and he'd slowly been trying to do the same, but there were still so many things he hadn't been able to show her. Too many things. But if they were about to die… if this was his only chance to tell her the truth, at the very least he could start with telling her that he was sorry; sorry for how he'd acted towards her, sorry for leading her into a trap, sorry for getting her killed.

Hopefully then she'd know that he'd never wanted this for her, had never wanted any harm to come to her, despite what his treatment of her might have led her to believe.

Swallowing, Weller turned his head towards her, his shoulder pressing more closely against hers– but just as he was about to speak, she spoke first.

In clear, careful Mandarin.

Immediately, the two voices stopped, and then one rose again, the demand clear in his tone.

And Jane answered– and kept speaking, the words flowing from her, her tone gentle, imploring, even almost seductive. Stunned, Weller listened to the men listening to her, hearing the voice of the ringleader– their suspect, Fung– shift from anger to something almost like intrigue. Like calculation.

For another minute, the conversation continued, Jane seeming to have an answer for everything Fung threw her way.

And then suddenly he barked an order, and a moment later Weller felt Jane being pulled to her feet, pulled away from him, and instantly her name tore from his throat, his body lurching forward as he fought to gain his footing– only for a rifle butt to suddenly slam into his back, his shoulder and temple striking hard against the concrete floor.

Even through the flash of pain, he heard Jane's clear voice ring out, and a moment later he felt rough hands yank him up off the floor, his blindfold slipping free as he struggled against their grip.

And then, abruptly, he stopped struggling, and stared.

Her blindfold gone and her hands now free, Jane stood close by Fung's side, his arm snaking around her waist as he eyed her with undisguised lust. But even more than that was the look she was giving him– coy, seductive, her fingers toying with the lapels of his jacket as she focused only on him.

As Weller gaped, she murmured something in a soft, inquiring tone, all but batting her eyelashes at him, her body pressing a little closer to his. With a huff, he muttered a few words, then lifted his free hand, gesturing carelessly at the men flanking Weller.

Immediately, two of the grabbed him by the shoulders, locking him in place, while a third stepped in front of him, gun raised. Beyond him, Weller saw Fung turn and walk away with Jane, his arm still curved possessively around her.

Not once did she look back.

Breathing her name one last time, Weller closed his eyes, seeing her face in his mind as he waited to die.

And then his head exploded with pain, and he saw nothing more.

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"Weller! Weller!"

Groaning, Weller forced his eyes open, blinking against the light. His head was pounding, and for a long, painful moment he couldn't place where he was.

And then he knew.

"Where's Jane?" he demanded roughly, yanking forcefully against his bindings as he looked straight past Zapata and Reade, his gaze rapidly searching the warehouse beyond.

"That's what we were about to ask you," Reade said, immediately handing his knife to Zapata as she tugged at the ropes that bound Weller to a low metal railing, her face hard.

"They took her," he growled, pulling his arms free the moment Zapata was through the rope, his head spinning as he forced himself to his feet.

"Whoa," Reade said with concern, reaching out to steady him. "Who took her?"

"Fung and his men," Weller said impatiently, eyes still scanning the warehouse, searching for clues. "They jumped us. She talked to them and then they took her."

Clearly surprised, Reade glanced at Zapata before looking back at him. "What'd she say to them?"

"If I spoke Mandarin, maybe I'd know," he ground out, pulling away from Reade's grip and pressing a hand to his throbbing forehead. "But they were about an inch away from putting bullets in our heads, and then next thing Jane was walking out on his arm and I'm waking up like this."

He saw the understanding dawn on Zapata's face first, her voice soft as she looked between him and Reade. "She made a deal…"

Shaking his head to clear it, Weller held up a hand, his voice hard-edged.

"Enough. Just take me to the car. We need to get to the lab and access all the security footage, now."

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"Patterson, tell me you've got something!"

Striding into the lab with Reade and Zapata at his heels, Weller ignored the pain that still pounded through his head, his eyes only on the youngest member of his team.

"I'm working on it," she answered hurriedly, her fingers flying over the keyboard, her eyes focused. "The cam footage is just collating now."

As he reached her, she turned to say something– but instead did an abrupt double-take, staring at his battered face.

"Uh, Weller, should you maybe–"

"I don't need to go to med bay," he growled, refusing to have the same conversation a third time. "I need to find where the hell Fung and his men took Jane."

"Are we totally sure she wants to be found?" Reade asked evenly, seemingly ignoring the warning look Zapata shot him. "I mean, you said yourself that she went with them willingly, and it sounds like she was pretty cozy with Fung…"

"Whatever she said, whatever deal she made, it's the reason why I'm not lying in the morgue right now," Weller said harshly, barely controlling the fury that flashed through him. Stepping closer to Reade, he held his gaze, every muscle in his body tense. "She put herself in the hands of one of the most dangerous men in the country just so I would make it out of there alive."

Instantly, Reade lifted his hands in surrender, his eyebrows high. "Just wanted to make sure we considered all angles. But I have to admit, even after everything I couldn't see Jane cutting and running like that."

Looking back up at the computer screen, Weller gritted his teeth. "Her motives don't matter. All that matters is finding her."

"Uh, I think I can help with that," Patterson said slowly, her eyes wide as she stared out into the bullpen.

Instantly, Weller spun, following her gaze– and saw Jane limping slowly from the elevator, half-dragging a stumbling Fung with her.

He was out the door before anyone in the lab even had a chance to speak, his eyes never leaving her as he moved swiftly across the bullpen, his gaze automatically cataloguing her injuries, her body seeming as battered as his own.

As he drew nearer, he knew the exact moment when she caught sight of him; saw the sheer relief on her bloodied face, her gaze assessing him just as he'd assessed her.

When he reached her, she looked up at him with wide, anxious eyes, pushing her cargo forward like an offering.

"I brought you Fung," she told him quickly, the slightest hint of a waver in her voice. "And I know where the rest are."

For a moment, he simply stared down at her– simply let himself just look at her and breathe. Then, he turned to his left, eyes fixing on the first agents he saw.

"Sanders, McIntyre. Take this suspect to interview 2 and prep him."

As the two agents obediently escorted Fung away, he turned back to Jane.

"Jane, come with me."

Following close by his side like a silent shadow, she kept her eyes fixed on the floor even after they'd entered the lab, seemingly afraid to make eye contact with any of the team.

"Jane's got the address of Fung's base of operations," he stated clearly, then gentled his voice slightly. "Tell them, Jane."

Once she'd given it, he focused on Patterson, directing his next comment to her. "Send a team, and keep me informed over the comms. Reade, Zapata, you two will take point. Jane and I are going to med bay."

"Understood," Patterson answered immediately, the other two simply nodding before gathering their things.

Looking concerned, Jane shook her head. "I don't need to–"

"Yes, you do," he countered firmly, stepping past her to push open the door. "Now come on."

For a second she hesitated, then nodded, joining him and heading back toward the elevator. As the doors closed behind them, closing them off from everyone else, he felt her draw in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice low, remorseful. When he looked at her in confusion, she swallowed, then explained, "For leaving you behind. It was the only thing I could think to do."

Eyes searching her face, he asked the question that had been on his mind all morning, unable to hold back his curiosity any longer.

"What did you say to them?"

"That killing you would only make the FBI chase them harder," she answered quietly, her eyes staring unseeingly at the elevator doors. "That I wasn't an agent, just an asset being used by the FBI for my skills, and that I wanted out. I convinced Fung that I could be… useful to him instead."

Weller nodded slowly, impressed– but also unsurprised– by her quick thinking. Clearly having no idea of the tone of his thoughts, Jane looked down, a small, bitter chuckle leaving her lips.

"I guess even strangers have no trouble believing I have no loyalty."

"I don't doubt your loyalty, Jane," he told her quietly, "Not anymore."

Instantly, her eyes lifted to his, her gaze searching; then, after holding his gaze for several seconds, she blinked and looked away, her eyes bright, her voice a little hoarse.

"Thank you, Weller."

Drawing in a slow breath, he shifted slightly to let his shoulder press gently against hers, feeling her tense for a fleeting moment before she finally seemed to settle, her body relaxing and leaning just a fraction into his.

And when the elevator doors opened a few moments later, they stepped out together, both bruised and battered– but more whole than they'd been in a long, long time.

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Thanks for reading!