Author's Note: Yay, I managed another chapter! Thanks to those of you who are still reading. :) And for those of you who are wondering why Jane doesn't totally fall apart with Kurt in this chapter - that comes later, don't worry!

Again, Jane had to endure the drive home with a cloth bag over her head. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad one; she couldn't tell what Roman was thinking, but she also didn't have to worry about her own facial expressions giving her away.

How was it possible to feel ashamed of disappointing Shepherd when she disliked the woman so much, and had very few memories of their time together? Was it that boldly ingrained in her consciousness that it went deeper than memory, right into instinct? How screwed up was that?

At least Cade had gotten away. His escape had been costly for her mental state, and she was pretty sure his face would be added to Mayfair's, Oscar's, Keaton's and Weller's in her nightmares, but at least she hadn't had to murder a man to maintain her cover.

All she wanted right now was to crawl into bed with Weller, have him hold her and listen to him tell her everything would be fine. And yet, she couldn't bear the thought of facing him right now. How could he stand to look at her once he knew she'd had to torture a man? His blood had been all over her hands. The cuts she'd inflicted had only been shallow, for show, but it was bad enough she'd done it at all.

"You can take off the bag now."

Roman had been silent during the whole drive, and she'd been too caught up in her own thoughts to question what was behind that decision. Now that she could see again—they were just a stone's throw from Times Square—she had to catch up fast.

"Roman…"

"Every time I forget you don't remember things, you do something new that reminds me." He shook his head, seeming caught between admiration and disapproval. "You talked back to Shepherd in front of our people. You're lucky she needs you at the FBI. She's gonna be sulking over that one for weeks, and if you were home, she'd have you doing all the worst jobs, just to prove to everyone that she's still on top."

"Will she take it out on you?" Jane asked.

He shrugged. "A little, maybe. Not much."

"I'm sorry. For everything. I really screwed up today, and now Oscar…"

Roman sighed. "Oscar's dead, Remi. He's not gonna care one way or the other."

Jane bowed her head, as if mourning for her lost love.

"And if we catch Cade again, you can shoot him in the head while ten of us have our weapons trained on him."

Oh, yay. Can't wait. Some of Cade's trademark sarcasm seemed to have stuck inside her skull.

She scowled over at Roman, trying to do what Remi would have done. "Why don't you just flat-out call me useless? I know that's what you're thinking."

To her surprise, Roman laughed. "If you could remember all the times you covered for me or helped me out when I screwed up as a kid, you wouldn't even think that, let alone say it." He stopped at a red light and put his hand on her shoulder as the car idled. "You were right. You tried to bring up your concerns with Shepherd. She pulled some commanding officer 'strength of character' bullshit and we all got burned for it. Don't get me wrong, you did make mistakes. But it hasn't even been six months since you went through that same kind of torture. You did your best."

"I don't think Shepherd is going to be quite that forgiving," Jane said, with an unease that was completely genuine.

"Shepherd's got phase two to worry about. She's not happy, but she's got other things on her mind. A couple of victories procuring materials, and she'll be back to normal."

"Is there much left to do?" Jane asked casually.

He shot her a sharp look. "Stop fishing for details. You know I'm not allowed to tell you."

Jane sighed. "I was in CIA custody for three months, and they got nothing from me. I can hold my own under interrogation."

"I don't make the rules, and you know it."

"No, Shepherd makes them. The same Shepherd who ordered me to do something I was bound to screw up today."

"That was a one-off. I think she's been rattled that one of her own went rogue. She hand-selected Cade, pressed all his buttons to get him to join us, so she's sore that he ended up betraying us. She usually makes good calls."

Jane nodded, giving up. As off-guard as he'd been today, dealing with her panic, Roman was obviously not going to spill any phase two details today.

As he pulled the car over in front of her place, Roman asked, "You gonna be okay? You need someone to stay with you?"

Touched by his offer, Jane shook her head. "I heard Shepherd. She wants you heading up the hunt for Cade when you get back. Let's not piss her off any more today." She tried a smile. "Thank you, though. I appreciate the offer."

"I'd say call me if you have nightmares, but we need to keep our contact limited. I don't know; call one of your FBI team. Maybe it will help them feel closer to you if you show your vulnerable side around them."

"I'll bear it in mind. Thanks." Jane leaned over and hugged him. "You really helped calm me down tonight."

"That's what brothers are for." He snorted. "When they're not riling you up, I mean."

Jane couldn't help but laugh as she got out of the car. "Goodnight."

She'd put on a strong façade for Roman—out of habit, maybe?—but as soon as she shut the safehouse's front door behind her, it collapsed like a house of cards in a strong breeze.

Cade. Had he gotten out safely, or was he already being dragged back to Shepherd's base without hope for a second escape?

Roman. Would he really be okay, or would Shepherd take things out on him more than he'd admitted to Jane?

Weller. She wanted his arms around her so badly, but the idea of admitting what she'd done and facing his condemnation was almost more than she could bear.

The first thing she did was set the shower running, making the water as hot as she could stand and then turning it up a little higher still. After stripping off her clothing and leaving it in an untidy heap in the middle of the bathroom floor, she stepped under the scalding spray and finally let her tears fall. Maybe, if she scrubbed hard enough, some of her shame and guilt would wash away with the soap and water.

Weller frowned at his phone, wondering when, exactly, he'd turned into a teenage girl. It was after midnight, and Jane had finally sent him a text message that simply said, Home safe. Will fill you and Nas in tomorrow.

Leaving aside the fact that tomorrow was a Sunday and none of them were going into work, Jane had practically promised to stay over at his place again tonight. He'd pinned her up against his apartment door before she'd left, leaving light kisses all over her face as he'd asked if she'd be back that night. She'd said yes, right before she'd pushed him away from the door, leaned in to give him one last peck on the lips, then made her escape.

It had taken less than twenty-four hours for her to start pushing him away again. He'd really thought they were getting somewhere; they'd spent the day together as a couple until Sandstorm had rudely interrupted. He wasn't sure who'd been more annoyed—him, or Jane. But she'd dutifully gone to do whatever they'd asked of her, and he'd spent the evening aimlessly watching TV, keeping one eye on the clock and the other on his phone, waiting for her to return.

Had something happened with Sandstorm, or did she need time to process how things were developing between them? His head told him she needed space, but his gut instinct told him otherwise. Something wasn't right about this.

He called Jane's cell, knowing he wouldn't sleep unless he heard her tell him she was okay. She didn't pick up, and the call went to voicemail. "It's me. I know this might seem a little weird, but I just can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. If you just need space, that's okay, but I need to hear you say it. I don't care what time it is when you get this message. Just call me, Jane. Please."

Resisting the urge to end with I love you, he hung up with a sigh.

Five minutes later, a text message alert came up on his phone. I'm sorry. I didn't want to ruin our day with what happened tonight. I really didn't want to worry you.

"Goddamn it, Jane, just call me." He tried her cell again, but she stubbornly refused to pick up.

Exasperated and concerned in equal measure, he sent a text back. Call me, or I'm coming over there.

After fifteen minutes had passed with no response, he grabbed his keys and wallet and headed for the door. He'd warned her. If she hadn't wanted him on her doorstep, she should have said something.

He opened his apartment door, took one step out into the hall, barely paying attention…and walked straight into Jane, whose hand was raised to knock.

All his annoyance evaporated as he wrapped his arms around her to steady them both. "Hey."

Jane embraced him in return, hiding her face against his shoulder without a word.

His imagination offering up worst-case scenarios, Kurt kissed the top of her head. "Come on, let's get you inside."

Jane drew back reluctantly, and his heart sank as he registered the tears in her eyes. What the hell had happened tonight?

Once he had her cradled in his arms on the couch, he asked softly, "Wanna talk about it?"

"I will. I owe you an explanation, I know. But can you just…hold me for a while first?" she said, without raising her head from his chest. "I just want to be here, in this moment, with you."

Kurt tightened his arms around her and closed his eyes, swallowing his own urge to cry. As much as he was desperate to know what had put Jane into this almost childlike state, he wanted to give her what she needed even more.

"Take as long as you need, Jane. I'm right here."

She stayed silent and still for so long that Weller began to doze off, lulled by her presence, her warmth and scent. When she gave a deep, shaky sigh and tensed in preparation to push herself upright, he roused himself and helped to guide her.

"Thanks," she murmured. "I think I can talk now."

"Need a drink?" he asked. "I don't have bourbon, but if you can handle scotch or Pennsylvania beer, you're welcome to it."

Jane considered for a moment. "Tempting, but I should probably stay sober. Do you have anything a little more…comforting? I know you don't have oolong tea, and it's a little late for coffee, but..."

Weller smiled and got up from the couch after a quick squeeze of her hand. "I have exactly what you need."

A few minutes later, Jane was sipping from a large mug of steaming hot chocolate, a forlorn smile curving her lips. "This is really good."

"I'm a secret chocoholic," he confessed, to lighten the mood.

"Not so secret. You think I don't notice which doughnuts you always go for?" she teased, following the thin strand of normality he offered.

"Damn, and here I thought I had everyone fooled."

Jane tucked herself into the corner of the couch, her knee resting against his thigh as she faced him. The smile dropped from her face. "Do you remember how I was originally going to tell Shepherd that Cade tortured me, but then they shoved him past the door?"

He nodded, trying not to think of the million different ways her story might play out.

"They've been keeping him alive all that time. I think he's Nas' informant inside Sandstorm, or at least, he was until they caught him. They've been torturing him the same way Keaton tortured me, trying to get him to talk. And I made it worse by framing him for Oscar's murder."

"You didn't know he was still alive, Jane."

"I know." She shook her head. "But I did know he turned against Sandstorm during the burning rose tattoo case. And I knew they had him the night I went back to them. And for over two months, I never gave him a second thought."

He reached for her hand and squeezed, listening as she related everything: Roman's warning, Shepherd's manipulation, the way she'd tortured Cade as she'd used their shared understanding of Bulgarian to plan his escape, risking her cover instead of executing him on the spot. By the time she'd finished, her empty hot chocolate mug was hanging listlessly from her fingers and her shoulders were slumped, everything about her posture defeated and despondent.

"So now you know," she said, unable to meet his eyes. "What kind of a person I really am."

He took the mug from her and set it beside his own, then moved closer, taking both of her hands in his. "Yeah, I do."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I couldn't be a better—"

"Shhh… Listen to me, Jane." She was always so hard on herself, holding herself to impossible standards. Maybe it was because of her past, and he could only imagine what it was like to be so at odds with the person she used to be. But he saw things differently.

"I heard every word you said tonight. And I am so, so damn proud of you."

Clearly, she'd been steeling herself for his condemnation, because she gazed at him in complete bewilderment. "But I tortured a man tonight."

"I was there when Nas told you to maintain your cover, no matter what. You would have been able to walk into that room and shoot him in the head, and we would have given you immunity for the crime. We would have understood that you did what you had to do for the good of the mission, and you knew that. But you risked everything to help him escape. You put your life on the line, and you went through an experience that was probably more traumatic than just killing him, just so that he could live."

A little warmth came into her expression, even as her stubborn streak wouldn't let her concede. "His blood was literally on my hands. He screamed so many times."

"He escaped. He's alive, because of you." Kurt tenderly took her face in his hands, making sure she couldn't look away. "I know exactly the kind of person you are. You're brave. Determined. You protect people without a second thought, even when it comes at personal cost. Sure, sometimes things don't work out in an ideal way, and you can see a better way to handle it in hindsight. That just means you're not perfect. Nobody is."

She smiled sadly, acknowledging his words even if she couldn't fully believe or accept them yet. It would come in time. He'd make sure of it.

"Whether you can see it or not, you're an exceptional person, Jane Doe."

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "That means more to me than you could know."

Kurt leaned forward and pressed a slow, heartfelt kiss against her lips, then stood up. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."