Author's Note: Sorry I'm a bit behind at replying to reviews at the moment! This week has been insanely warm, and it's making my brain all fuzzy. I'm hoping to catch up with everyone within the next twenty-four hours. :) In the meantime, here's Kurt realising something he really should already have known... ;)

Delusional. It was probably the least flattering word Jane could have used to describe his actions, but while he chafed at the accusation, Weller had to admit she had a point.

Taylor's disappearance—her death—had been his blindspot for too long. He'd played right into the hands of the people behind Mayfair's downfall, dismissing any thought or piece of evidence that contradicted his desperate hope that Taylor was alive and had returned to him. By exploiting his weakness, they'd gotten to Mayfair.

At least now he had closure. He couldn't be sure that he wouldn't throw himself into a similar situation—if a lead pointing to the reason Bill Weller had killed Taylor ever came up, he'd definitely want to follow it. But he'd second-guess his actions, the way he did with everything else.

I hope those few months where you thought you had Taylor back were worth it.

He'd been genuinely happy, it was true. Even though he'd screwed up by mending bridges with his father, and Jane had been carrying out orders from the enemy right under his nose, at the time he'd almost felt content.

How much of that had been that he thought Taylor was back in his life, and how much because he'd been falling for Jane Doe?

There was no point in considering that now. His relationship with Jane was in tatters, damaged by her revelations and destroyed by his.

He'd had to tell her, though. It had been the only way he could think of to stop her from slipping any farther into despair. At least now, her anger would counter-balance her self-blame and hopelessness. She'd fight. She'd live.

An hour had passed since she'd stormed back into the bedroom, putting as much distance between them as she possibly could. Had she regained any more memories? Remembering her name, even only her first name, was a huge step. Maybe her recollections would come faster now.

And he'd been the one to delay her progress. He wondered if Mayfair would have said, I told you it was a mistake not to tell her.

"Weller."

He hadn't heard Jane come back into the room, yet somehow wasn't surprised to find her here so soon after their argument.

"Jane," he said, keeping his voice neutral. Then he wondered if he should have used the name she'd remembered. Would she want to go by Alice now? It didn't suit her.

Then again—now that he was forcing himself to think clearly—Taylor didn't suit her, either.

Jane stood in the middle of the room, her good arm hugging her abdomen defensively. "I want this over. I want the case solved. Then I want to remove that goddamn tattoo of your name from my back, go somewhere far away and get the hell on with my life, whatever that means."

Hearing her rail against the tattoo of his name cut more deeply than anything else she'd confessed to him. A jolt of adrenaline hit his system, his pulse pounded, and with crystal clarity, he realised just how much she meant to him.

No. I don't care what she's done. What we've done to each other. How badly we've both screwed this up. I need her with me. I love her.

God help me; I'm in love with Jane Doe.

For a moment that seemed endless, he couldn't move or speak. Sure Jane could read his mind, he waited for her contempt, her declaration that she could never trust him again, let alone love him.

Oblivious to his thoughts, she glanced around the room, as though searching for something. "I need to make notes but I can't strain my arm by writing. If I fill you in on what Oscar said the night I killed him, can you write it all down?"

Given a purpose, Weller broke his paralysis and found the pad Sarah kept in the kitchen drawer to make her grocery lists. Leafing past a few of Sawyer's drawings, he found a blank page and sat down at the breakfast nook. "Yeah. Ready when you are."

Jane leaned against the kitchen cabinets, as though reluctant to sit down next to him. "I've got a rough idea of the hierarchy of the organisation, at least of the people I met or remember, or heard Oscar mention. Shepherd is at the top. I don't know who he is, but I know that much. I had a memory from before I was ZIPped; I was telling Oscar he shouldn't be my handler, that we should talk to Shepherd about it. Then later, Oscar told me the whole mission was Shepherd's."

Shepherd. Kurt wrote it down, remarking, "Does that seem like an assumed name to you? Like a shepherd watching over his flock?"

"Could be. Or it could just be his name. It's common enough."

"Why would Oscar mention the name of the head of the organisation, if he was trying to keep your knowledge of the organisation need-to-know? Seems risky. Did it slip out accidentally?"

Jane shook her head. "I don't think he cared. He stopped keeping secrets at the end, when he was about to wipe my memory again."

A wave of disbelief slammed into Weller. "He what?"

Jane laughed bitterly. "I know how to pick my men, huh?"

Something about the way she said that made him pretty sure she hadn't just been involved with Oscar before her memory wipe. It was irrational to feel hurt—after all, he'd been sleeping with Allie on and off for months, after Jane had stood him up at the park and he'd rejected her before she could do the same to him. He'd settled for Allie because he'd thought Jane regretted their kiss outside his apartment. And Oscar had taken full advantage of the situation.

Then the words she'd said sank in, rather than just the way she'd said them. "You're comparing me to him?"

Jane's eyes narrowed. "There are some similarities. You were both economical with the truth."

"I think that's a trait all three of us share."

They glared at each other in silence for a moment. Kurt was the first to give in, fearing Jane would see too far past his defences if they escalated this argument.

Looking back down at the pad, he asked, "Why did Oscar want to wipe your memory that night?"

"He killed Mayfair right in front of me. He knew I'd never forgive him for that, and he panicked. Decided to start over, like he was rebooting me back to factory settings."

Despite her attempt to hide her feelings, to keep her distance from him physically and emotionally, Kurt caught a faint glimpse of the horror she must have been nursing over that memory. Disgust creased her brow, and she gave a subtle shudder.

Jane hadn't been a real person to Oscar. He'd been holding out for the return of the woman she'd been—Alice?—and when he'd realised Jane was there to stay, he'd decided to wipe her out in the hopes of getting back his fiancée the second time around.

Her body might still have been living, but he'd have killed the Jane that Weller had grown to love. Kurt had almost lost her that night, and he hadn't even known it. He had chosen ignorance as he'd cuffed her hands behind her back.

Weller cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. "That's when he told you that you weren't Taylor? And about Shepherd?"

Jane nodded. "I tracked him upstate, to the barn where he was going to dispose of Mayfair's body. He snuck up on me from behind with a Taser, and when I woke up, I was tied to a chair and he was getting out the ZIP."

The mental image was so alarming, he almost berated her for going alone. But he hadn't been around. He'd been in Clearfield, searching for Taylor's body. Biting back the words, he turned his pen over and over in his fingers.

"Okay. Did he tell you anything else?"

"He said Mayfair's removal from office was phase one. That I sent myself to you because you were meant to take her place. All the cases you solved by following the tattoos were meant to give your career such a boost that you'd be the natural choice for her successor."

"And you'd be there to manipulate me, to make sure I acted in Shepherd's interests." The words emerged more accusatory than he felt.

Jane scowled. "I had no idea until he told me."

Weller modified his tone. "I wasn't blaming you, Jane."

She seemed taken aback by the unspoken apology, and took a breath before continuing. "The way Oscar talked about phase two makes me think the organisation is a domestic terror cell. That I—Alice, not Jane—was a terrorist."

Shoving aside the personal implications for Jane for the moment, Weller leaned forward. "Tell me everything he said."

Jane closed her eyes. When she spoke, it was slowly, as though she was recalling what he'd said word for word. "This country is on the brink of collapse. Has been for decades. This government doesn't care about the people. It's too broken, too corrupt. Phase two is about burning it to the ground so we can start again. Only from the ashes can we rise."

A chill ran down Kurt's spine. It sounded exactly like terrorist rhetoric.

"Did he give a timeline? Any indication of their plans?"

"If he had, if I knew that many lives were at stake and when they were at risk, don't you think I would have told you straight away, as you were driving me to the NYO to put me in holding? Or the CIA, if you wouldn't listen?" Jane snapped.

Imagining Jane's fate if she'd confessed to being a terrorist to the CIA, Weller felt his stomach turn over. "It's better that you didn't. I'm gonna need your help to stop them."

Jane nodded, the steely determination back in her eyes. "I need to get back to full strength first, but then I have a few ideas. But for helping you take that down, I want full immunity for everything I've done, and everything Alice has done."

"You'll get it."