Because I love me some angst with a happy ending.
Set sometime in S2 but written prior to the premiere.
His lungs were burning.
His head throbbed, his muscles cramping viciously from so long trapped in one position. With every shallow breath, his chest brushed against Jane's back, her body now as still and exhausted as his.
Pressed against his own back, however, was something entirely different; the very thing that was about to cost them their lives.
The firm, cushioned wall of what was undeniably a casket.
He wasn't sure how long had passed since he'd regained consciousness, finding himself in the pitch dark with Jane's body close beside his and the scent of her hair filling his head. For that first half-second, he'd felt comfortable, content– until reality had set in, and he'd remembered that in his bed was the last place that Jane should ever– would ever– be.
And so he'd swiftly pushed away, sitting up– only for his forehead to slam hard into the lid of the casket above him, his sharp curse waking Jane with a jerk, only his barked command not to move preventing her from instantly suffering the same injury he had.
Instead, she'd frozen immediately at his words, her voice carefully even as she'd asked him just what the hell was going on.
He hadn't really needed to answer– her searching hands had already put the pieces together, the solid, unyielding lid of the casket already conveying a single, undeniable truth.
They had been buried alive.
They'd pushed and pounded and shouted until their hands were bruised and their throats raw, their eyes straining in the total darkness. But with their pockets empty and their phones missing, there was no light, no tools… and no hope for rescue.
They were on their own– and now, they were out of time.
Forcing himself to think beyond the throbbing pain in his head, Weller tried desperately to think of something– anything– that might save them, might somehow get them out of this. But there was nothing left they could do, nothing they hadn't already tried.
Which meant that, after everything, they were now about to die.
It seemed that Jane was thinking along the same lines; breaking her silence for the first time in several minutes, she spoke quietly, her voice rough.
"I'm sorry."
"Jane–"
"No, Weller, listen," she said urgently, her words laced with the same desperation he felt. "The air is almost gone. We can't have more than a few minutes left, which means we're not making it out of here. So please, just let me say this."
Sucking in one of their last remaining breaths, she finally gave in, her voice faltering, almost breaking as she let the words spill out, baring her soul to him.
"I'm sorry for everything. Lying to you, hurting the team, Mayfair– all of it. But my old organisation, they… they threatened the team. Threatened everyone I love. They were going to kill you, Kurt, and I couldn't let that happen, so I did whatever they asked."
He heard her choke back a tiny, ragged sob before she forced out her next words, her broken whisper tearing at his heart. "And now we're both going to die anyway."
Clenching his eyes shut, Weller swallowed hard, his own words feeling like razorblades in his throat, tearing him apart from the inside.
"I'm sorry too, Jane."
Feeling her shudder against him, he forged on, determined to make her understand, to make her believe he meant it.
"I'm sorry for what I did to you, and for not being able to get us out of this. I'm so sorry, Jane. For everything."
For half a moment she was silent, her body tense; and then she let out a long, shaky breath, her body seeming to relax slightly before it slowly began to shift, her shoulders curling inward as she carefully rolled to face him. Even blind, he could still picture her, could sense her eyes searching for his in the darkness. And then he felt her hand against his chest, her palm slowly sliding up his neck to drift her fingers lightly over his cheek and jaw.
"Kurt," she whispered finally, and he could hear the tears in her voice, hear the truth that lay beneath them. "I love you."
And suddenly, he really couldn't breathe, his heart stuttering wildly in his chest before abruptly kicking back into gear, its beat almost deafening in his ears.
"Goddammit," he hissed sharply, then instantly reached for her, his hand curling around the back of her neck, pulling her even closer as his lips found hers. She responded with a near-frantic need, her body pressing close against his, her hands clutching at him as she deepened the kiss, both of them desperately using their remaining moments to show each other everything they'd kept hidden for so long.
Finally, he pulled back just enough to draw breath, body shaking and heart crumbling as he whispered his last words against her skin, his dying confession.
"I love you too, Jane. I never stopped loving you."
With a whimper, she pressed her lips once again to his, a final goodbye–
And then suddenly, there was a loud, pneumatic hiss, and the lid of the casket smoothly lifted open, the world around them flooding with both light and air, making them clench their eyes shut, their chests heaving with huge, shuddering breaths.
Barely a moment later, a tinny voice echoed around them, seeming to come from within the casket itself.
"See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"
Squinting against the near-blinding light, Weller lifted his head and looked around, his jaw clenching as his eyes slowly adjusted, revealing the walled space around them to be a rental storage locker. As Jane shakily propped herself up beside him, the unmistakable voice spoke again.
"Stubbles, Janie, as always it's been a true pleasure– a truly breathtaking experience, you might say– but sadly it's probably about time I let you go. You'll find your phones and other cool FBI toys in the box on the table– and before you grump at me, Stubbles, yes, they are all there and safely in one piece. I promise I didn't even play with them. Well, okay, maybe just a little, because naturally I had to take the liberty of disabling the phones' GPS. I mean, I couldn't exactly have anyone interrupting our special alone time, could I? Of course not. But don't you worry, they should be back online in like an hour or so– though rest assured you'll probably be back with the rest of our little dream team long before then."
Glancing over to one of the side walls, Weller instantly saw the table with the box atop it, the only two other objects in the locker aside from their casket and its low stand. Both irritated and relieved, he shook his head, then curled a hand around the edge of the casket as Rich went on.
"By the way, were you guys aware that you both have a picture of each other saved on your phones that is one of the most frequently-accessed files on each of your devices? God, you guys are so cute it's almost nauseating. Seriously. But speaking of which– and this is just a friendly FYI for my favorite FBIs– if you guys happen to feel at all like continuing what you started there in the love-casket, there's a motel right across the street that rents by the hour. I've already contacted them with your descriptions, and we came to a nice little arrangement so that the entire cost of your stay– however long that may be, because let's be real you guys have a lot of UST to work through– will be on me. I mean, what can I say, even with this fierce beard I do make a pretty great Cupid. And yes, I know I'm fantastic, and yes, you are absolutely welcome. Anyhow, though, while this has all been so much fun– we should really do it again sometime, don't you think?– for now I gotta go lick some sweet sticky things off some sweet young things, if you know what I mean. Toodles!"
There was a click, and then the faint sound of static abruptly cut off, the communication link clearly severed.
"I'm going to kill him," Weller growled, then firmly pushed himself up and climbed out of the casket, ignoring the way his muscles screamed in protest at the action. Reaching back to her, he helped her clamber out, his hands lingering on her elbows as she tested her balance.
"You'd have to find him first," she muttered, then looked up at him, her eyes stark, uncertain. "So what happens now?"
Reluctantly letting go of her, he moved over to the table, collecting all of their things from the battered cardboard box as he spoke over his shoulder. "We get back to the NYO, try to find a way to explain all of this."
Turning back to her, he held out her phone and gun, and she took them, tucking them away before reaching out to curl her fingers around his wrist.
"Kurt, what happens now with us?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly, then drew a breath and stepped in a little closer, his eyes meeting and holding hers, his heart beating unsteadily in his chest. "But we'll figure it out, alright? Together."
He watched the glimmer of tears form in her eyes before she blinked them back, the corner of her mouth curving in a tiny smile. "I like the sound of that."
"Me too," he admitted softly, his hand lifting to gently brush her tangled hair back from her face, the touch lingering for a moment as they simply looked at one another, their eyes reflecting everything they'd revealed back in those final moments in the casket.
Then, he reluctantly dropped his hand and moved over to the roller door, pulling it up to reveal the bright afternoon sunshine, their storage locker just one in a bank of several that faced out over the parking lot to the street beyond. Seeing the cheap motel directly across the street, Weller shook his head slightly, then looked back at Jane, his eyes softening.
"C'mon. Let's get the hell out of here."
With a tiny nod, she moved to his side– which was exactly where he wanted her to always stay– and together, they stepped out into the light.
Being buried alive was practically a phobia of mine while growing up, but damn if I don't love it as a trope to get two people to realise they love each other lol...
Also I don't feel like this captured Rich as well as I would like– I guess it's true that we didn't know his voice as well back then, but ah well.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
