Author's Note: Okay, it's finally time for the I-love-yous! I have no idea if people will prefer this version or the version I cut. Either way, this is what I'm going with. It's less melodramatic but hopefully still has impact. :)
"Right," Nas said wearily, "Patterson is working on the file. Mr. Winter, there's going to be a delay while we wait for your transport. We only really have junk food for now, but help yourself."
While Winter dove into the box of snacks Caruso had brought over earlier, still running his mouth—did the man ever shut up?— Nas sat down on the couch beside Jane.
"I would have thought you'd want to go after Weller," she said softly. "You really don't have to babysit me with Winter, Jane. The NSA were very interested in acquiring him, it's true, but with this evidence that it was a frame job, he's nowhere near valuable enough to want to spirit away from all the other agencies."
Jane looked toward the door, conflicted. "It's… It's not that." After checking Winter was still lost in his own self-involved bubble, she admitted, "I don't think I'm the best person to talk to him while he's upset about this Mayfair lead coming to nothing."
"Ahhh." Nas gave her a sympathetic smile. "It has to be hard on you, too. I know you thought very highly of Mayfair."
"She was amazing. I owe her so much, and I…" A lump formed in Jane's throat, and she swallowed determinedly. "I didn't realise how much Kurt was depending on the idea that she might have confided in Winter until now. He's really not taking it well."
"For what it's worth, I think you should go to him. He'll appreciate your support."
Jane hesitated. "With anything else, that might be true. But I was partly responsible for her death. How can he want to see me after that?"
Nas stood up again as her laptop chimed. "It's up to you. But why not go and ask if he needs anything? If he sends you away, fair enough. At least you will have tried to be there for him."
Nas became engrossed in her laptop again, as Winter watched some sort of Bulgarian soap opera—with enthusiastic commentary aimed at anyone who would listen. After a few moments, Jane headed down the hallway to the only closed door.
Her stomach churning, she gave a quiet knock, then called through the door, "Kurt? It's me."
He didn't yell at her to give him some space, which she took as encouragement to open the door and step into the dimly lit room.
Kurt was sitting on the end of the bed, his body language defeated. He looked up as she approached, and Jane realised with a jolt that he'd been crying. "Oh, Kurt…"
Quickly, she retraced her steps to shut the door, giving them some privacy. Then she returned to his side, standing uncertainly, unsure of her welcome. Laying a tentative hand between his shoulder blades, she asked, "Is it okay that I'm here?"
He shot her a bemused look and reached out to pull her down to sit with him. "Of course."
Jane pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder, and stroked his hair, the way he had so many times with her. A shuddering sigh went through him as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I know she's gone, but this case… Part of me hoped that she'd have an answer for me one last time. About why Sandstorm has been watching me, or about Orion, or Daylight… But Winter never even met her. There was never a chance."
"I'm so sorry, Kurt," Jane murmured, her heart aching for him. Mayfair had become a rock for her, but she'd been practically family to Kurt. A mentor, a friend, a mother figure…and Jane had been instrumental in taking her away from him.
"I don't know how to explain it," he said. "I just miss her so much. I still can't believe she's gone sometimes, you know? I'll walk into her office—my office—and expect her to be sitting behind the desk, asking for a situation report."
Jane took a deep breath and asked, "Would you rather…I left? I can understand why I might not be the best person to talk to about this. Maybe when Reade gets back…"
Kurt sat upright again so he could get a good look at her. "Why would—? Oh, Jane, no. None of this is your fault."
And now she'd selfishly changed the focus of the conversation to herself, yet again. Wishing she could take back her words, that she'd just listened to what was going through his mind, she shook her head. "I don't want to make this about me. I just wanted to check I wasn't pushing myself into your grief and making it worse."
Kurt took her hand. "I'm glad you're here with me now."
"Sometimes I feel so guilty that I am," she admitted. "Don't you worry that Mayfair would disapprove of us being together?"
To her surprise, Kurt looked amused. "Mayfair disapproved of a lot of things I did or didn't do. She never said 'I told you so' with her voice, but you could read between the lines. She questioned my objectivity on your case more than once."
"That doesn't bother you?" Jane asked hesitantly.
"She would have come around."
Somehow, Jane doubted that. Mayfair's last moments would be etched inside her mind forever—the shock, the distrust, the rage and hurt. "I wish I was so sure. Even in her last moments, she was trying to protect you, Kurt. From me."
Kurt swallowed hard as he absorbed that information. "She didn't have the facts, Jane. What she said and did was based on what she thought she knew, not the truth. In time, she would have known better."
Jane nodded, wishing she could believe that.
"Mayfair used to say that everyone gets one mistake. What happened with Oscar would have been yours." He laughed softly. "I'm not saying she wouldn't have held it over you, or taken a while to trust you again. We all needed that. But she would have understood that you did what you could in a difficult situation, and that you were operating blind. She would have forgiven you, like the rest of the team's starting to. Like I already have."
"Thank you," Jane whispered, fighting back tears. "I'll make sure I'm worthy of it."
"I already know you are." He took her other hand, raised both of them to his lips and kissed the knuckles of each one. "I love you, Jane. I have for a long time."
Every coherent thought fled her mind. She'd already known—it had been impossible to miss—but hearing him say it was something she hadn't anticipated for this moment. She wanted to say it back, wanted to make sure he knew she'd already guessed, but the swell of emotion in her chest stole her voice. She could only give a tiny, sobbing gasp.
He brought their hands back down towards their laps, his eyes on that motion rather than on her. "I know you've been through a lot, and you're still processing it all, and I don't expect you to—"
Jane couldn't bear to watch him drawing into himself, thinking he'd put some sort of burden on her. Her words were missing, but she surged forward and pressed her lips to his, cutting him off with a hard, emphatic kiss, which softened and deepened into an expression of love in its own right.
Finally, Jane found her voice again. "I love you too, Kurt." There were a million more things that she wanted to explain—how she'd never thought she deserved his love; how she'd tried to stop after her arrest, but he'd just kept breaking through her defences; how he made her feel like more than just an amnesiac terrorist struggling to earn her freedom—but right now, confessing her love was enough.
His wonder and happiness shone through his eyes as he gave her a soft smile she could only describe as lovestruck. Then reality hit, and a slightly rueful look crept into his expression. "We have the worst timing, huh? If we weren't on standby for work…"
She laughed, knowing exactly where he was going with this. "When we get home, we can talk about it some more."
"I really wasn't thinking about talking," he confessed, between teasing kisses over her neck.
Jane wrapped her arms around him, using the embrace to stop him from getting any further into foreplay. "I know. But Reade will be back any moment, and he already thinks I ruin your focus."
Kurt sighed as he returned her hug. "Rain check, then."
As though mentioning him had triggered it, their phones buzzed—a group text from Reade. He and Caruso had picked up a tail—the Bulgarian government's hired muscle, assuming they had Winter with them. They'd successfully lost their pursuers, but wanted to lie low for an hour before risking the vehicle switch.
Between them—Nas joining in from the living room—they assured Reade that everything was fine here, and that they were in no danger. Then, knowing they had some time to kill but not wanting to get completely distracted, Jane glanced across at Kurt. "So how did you and Mayfair meet, anyway?"
Over the next hour, Kurt recounted a few different stories about Mayfair—how she'd recruited him to the NYO out of Quantico; how she'd never actually wanted a dog but had grown to love Felix; the way Reade and Zapata had vied for her approval when they'd first joined the FBI… Sometimes his words came easily, and sometimes grief choked up his voice, but Jane listened to every word, laughing and fighting tears right along with him.
"It feels good to talk about her," he said. "Don't ever feel like you can't mention her to me, okay? She would have forgiven you, Jane."
Jane nodded, his conviction easing a little of her guilt. Before she could speak, though, the sound of a door opening at the other end of the apartment grabbed their attention, followed by Reade's voice.
"Time to go to work," Kurt said, standing up with a sigh.
Jane got to her feet too, stretching out the stiffness in her limbs before taking a step towards the door. Intercepting her, Kurt gave her a brief, tender kiss. "I love you."
She smiled. "I love you. Let's go home."
It was the last stress-free moment Jane would experience for a long while.