Author's Note: Things are going to get kind of intense over the next couple of chapters! I will have another chapter ready to go tomorrow, since it's pretty much all written already (just needs a little bit of tweaking), but here's the first part of the confrontation.
Staring at her pale face in the mirror over the bathroom washbasin, Jane fought back another wave of panic. What had she just done? She hadn't helped her situation one bit with her impulsive actions, and now she had the deputy director of the CIA tied up and—what? Held hostage?
When Kurt, Nas and Reade found out what she was doing, they'd side with Keaton. They'd have to. Incapacitating her torturer had been an act of pre-emptive self-defence, but they couldn't support her actions. They were federal agents and she'd just committed a crime. Would she have to go on the run? Leave Kurt? Go back to Sandstorm and hope they'd read her in fully on phase two at some point in the future?
"If you're gonna switch our roles, you might as well get in here." Keaton's voice was weak, but sarcastic. Just hearing it made Jane want to throw up again, but there was nothing left in her stomach.
Damn him. Damn him for making me ruin my life again.
He was right, though. She'd have to face him sometime. Steeling herself, she went out into the hall, her gun at the ready before her in case he'd miraculously gotten out of the cuffs.
"There you are. Feeling better?"
"Shut up." Now that she had a moment to breathe and look him over, he looked pathetically defenceless. Just a man.
A man with the bureaucratic power to put her in a dark hole for the rest of her life. Appearances could be deceptive.
"Do you even have a plan, Jane Doe? Or should I call you Remi now?" She must have reacted, because he laughed. "Yeah, part of my deal with the NSA was that I be kept in the loop about your operation. I know everything you've told Nas Kamal."
Jane transferred her weapon to her left hand, stepped forward and punched him in the jaw, fighting the wave of betrayal that threatened to overwhelm her. As if it wasn't bad enough that this man had tortured her for months, now he had access to the meagre bits of information she'd successfully kept from him under duress?
Keaton let out a pained grunt as her strike landed, his head whipping to the side with the force of the blow. Hurting him didn't give Jane the satisfaction she'd always imagined she'd get in this situation. It didn't give her the same nauseating guilt she'd felt while torturing Cade, either.
Damn it, he deserved to suffer the way she'd suffered. Why couldn't she enjoy this? All she felt was anger and fear.
"So what did those three months of torturing me get you, Jake? What did you achieve that you couldn't have gotten by just waiting for the right person with the right intel? How many terrorist attacks did you prevent by brutalising me day after day after day?"
He didn't answer, didn't meet her eyes. Did he actually feel some modicum of shame for what he'd done to her? It would never be enough, but it would at least be something.
"Admit it," she ordered. "Admit that you abused your power for no reason other than that Mayfair wouldn't let the CIA have me. You saw your opening and you took it, not because you thought you'd get anything that Weller couldn't, but because you wanted the career boost of getting Jane Doe when Carter failed."
Keaton sighed. "Maybe there was a little of that, yeah." He stared up at her, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to flinch. "But was I wrong about you? Are you just an innocent little girl, Remi?"
"I'm not Remi. I'm Jane."
Keaton rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah? Well, whoever you are, you threw my identity to your mom's terrorist organisation on the first night you made contact with them. I have been skipping around Europe for months now. I can't see my family. I can't go home."
"Do you expect me to cry for you?" Jane snapped. "I didn't tell them anything that wasn't true. But I didn't do it for revenge. I had a cover story all set up, but then I realised they'd already captured the guy I was planning to say tortured me. I had nothing else, and in the interests of national security"—she emphasised the words bitterly, knowing that had been his excuse for torturing her—"I couldn't afford to have them kill me. So I told the truth. And if I had to do it again, I would."
"My wife and daughter are under guard twenty-four hours a day. I can only communicate with them through letters at a dead drop."
"I wake up screaming every night because of what you did to me." Discarding the gun for the moment, Jane crouched beside her captive and grabbed his head in both hands, making him look into her face. It sickened her to be this close to him, but if he could see that, so much the better. "I have panic attacks when I remember that black site. I think I see you in every crowd of people. It's only been a few days since I healed from the physical injuries you inflicted on me, and it could be literally years until the PTSD lets me sleep at night. Don't you dare act like you're the victim here."
Shoving back from him, she picked up her weapon again with a shaking hand. If the son of a bitch carried on with his pity party, she didn't know if she could stop herself from shooting him. Or if she should stop herself.
"It wasn't personal. I was just doing my job." Keaton rested his head against the wall as he looked up at her. "I do what I have to do for the good of the country. And what I did to you was completely sanctioned by US law."
"You were just following orders, doing what you had to do under the law? That's your excuse?" Incredulous, Jane stared at him. "Did it never occur to you that the law is wrong? That agencies like yours have too much power? What the hell happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?"
"Terrorists don't play by decent people's rules. You're a fine example of that right now, huh? You've got your weapon, your captive, your damn self-righteous anger… How is this any different from what I did to you?"
Jane couldn't argue with that. Even with her PTSD as an excuse, she knew she should untie him and submit herself to Nas' judgement. But was there any way that this could end happily for her now?
Somehow, she didn't think so.
Kurt's shoulders slumped as he checked Caruso's pulse. "He's gone."
Nas sighed. "I'm sorry. Did you know him well?"
"Not as well as Reade did. They went through Quantico together." Kurt stood up, surveying the carnage around them. There had to be at least ten bodies here in total, probably more. And the Bulgarian authorities would be closing in fast.
"Did you get Jane and Winter to the van?"
"Reade was most of the way to getting them there when I left him. As long as things went without a hitch, they should be safely there now." Nas indicated the door to the back hall. "Come on. We can't get anyone to take care of Caruso until we're over the border."
Kurt hesitated. It didn't seem right to just leave one of their own in a hallway full of enemy dead. "Let me grab a sheet or something from upstairs to cover him. I know it's stupid, I just…"
"We left the apartment door open when we left. There didn't seem like much point securing it now the window's broken. You head up there; I'll check on the others, make sure we're ready to go," Nas said.
Kurt took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get this over with. This whole mission had turned out so differently than he'd expected, and they still had no idea whose forces they'd just defended Winter against. A quick search of the enemy bodies had turned up no clues.
When he reached the landing and found the apartment door tightly shut, he gave it a shove, frowning. Had one of the others come back up here?
Inside, there was a scuffle, and a masculine groan that didn't sound like Reade. More enemies? If that were the case, it was probably better to retreat. They still had to get Winter out of there, and their ammunition supplies were beginning to run low.
"Weller," Reade called urgently from below.
Kurt's gut instinct kicked in, warning him that something was very wrong. He headed down to join Reade.
"Jane's not in the van. Winter said she dumped him in there, told him to stay down and left again."
A chill swept through Kurt's body. "Someone's up there, in the safehouse. Sounded male. And the door's locked."
"You think Jane's up there with someone?" Reade's brow furrowed. "Keaton?"
"I have no idea, but if she is, it's gonna take time and a hell of a lot of care to sort this situation out."
Together, they ascended to the safehouse door and listened. A male voice that might have been Keaton mumbled, too indistinct for them to make out the words. When Jane's icy voice answered, though, it was much clearer. "I had no identity, no papers, no nationality, no rights! You took advantage of my amnesia to hold me without charge, when I couldn't have answered a single one of your questions."
Kurt closed his eyes in defeat. Despite his best efforts, the worst-case scenario had come to pass. It would take longer to extricate Jane from this situation than they could afford to keep Winter around here.
"Reade, I want you and Nas to get Winter back to the States. Take the jet and go."
Reade blinked. "What about you guys?"
"The Bulgarians could be here any second. This will take time to sort out, and we have to secure Winter. I'll sort things out here, then Jane and I will grab a commercial flight back. I'm counting on you for the rest."
"Got it." Reade straightened up. "I hope Jane's…" He shook his head.
"Yeah. Me too."
As Reade took the stairs down two at a time, Kurt knocked on the door. "Jane, it's me."
"Stay out of this, Kurt. Please." Her voice held just the barest trace of distress, and none of the warmth he was accustomed to hearing.
"Weller, she has me tied up in here—" Keaton's voice cut off abruptly. Through the door, Kurt couldn't tell why, though he suspected Jane had struck her captive.
Kurt tried to look through the keyhole, but could only just see Keaton's zip-tied feet. He gave up and concentrated on Jane, fighting his own rising emotions.
"Jane, I need to check that you're okay. Reade and Nas are heading back with Winter, so it's just us."
"Please, just go away. I need…to focus."
Kurt put his hand to the door, swallowing the lump in his throat. She still sounded strong, but brittle, as though at any moment her composure would break.
"Don't make me break the door down, Jane. I know this is hard. Whatever it is you need, I'm with you. But I need to see with my own eyes that you're safe."
For a long moment, there was only silence behind the door.
"You won't understand."
"Yes. I will." He already did. He'd had more than a few thoughts about taking his frustrations out on Keaton, and he hadn't even been the victim. "I know he brought this on himself. Please, Jane. Just open the door. Let me check on you. I'll stay in the doorway, I promise."
"You can't fix this."
"I won't stop you. I won't even come in." He waited, tense and afraid for her, hoping their bond was strong enough that she'd accede to his request. "Jane. I know you're not okay right now. I know you acted before you thought things through, and now you're too scared to back down. But I'm not letting anyone take you from me, okay? Not again. Open the door. Let me talk to Keaton. We can all work things out."
He'd handled dozens of hostage situations during the course of his career, but this was different. If the others went wrong, tragedy could occur—had occurred, in some cases—but this had deeply personal ramifications. If Jane killed Keaton, he didn't know if he could protect her. Her PTSD could give her cause to plead temporary insanity, but she was a terrorist in the eyes of the law, and there was no guarantee she could keep her cover intact with Sandstorm after this relapse. If she had no value to the NSA, there was likely nothing he could do to protect her from being prosecuted or taken back into CIA custody.
He would lose her.
Before the bleakness of the situation could overwhelm him, the door rattled as it was unlocked from the inside. Kurt seized the welcome distraction and braced himself for what was to come.
Jane pulled the door wide, and he forced himself to stay motionless as he registered she was pointing her handgun at him. "Put your weapons on the ground and kick them over to me. Slowly."
She was striving to keep her face blank, but he saw the despair and fear lurking under her surface demeanour. If the situation hadn't been so volatile, he would have drawn her into his arms immediately. He was desperate to comfort her.
He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face, despite needing to know how bad Keaton's condition was. "Okay. I can do that."
Jane's voice broke as she ordered, "Don't handle me, Weller. I know I'm not getting out of this without repercussions."
"If I have anything to say about it, you will." Kurt pulled the strap of the HK-416 he was carrying up over his head, then crouched to place the enemy rifle on the floor. With one kick, he sent it across the wooden floor to Jane's feet.
"I'm sorry it came to this," she said curtly, watching him pull his handgun from its hip holster. "I tried to do what you asked, but then I saw him go in the back and I wanted to keep you safe, and—"
Kurt's heart broke for her. Even while she was holding him at gunpoint, she looked so lost, somehow. He placed the gun on the floor and kicked it across to her, giving up his last weapon. "It's okay. I'm not blaming you. I told him to stay the hell away from you."
"In my defence, I didn't know she was there," Keaton said. "I tried to stay out of her way. I was looking for Winter."
"Shut up, Keaton." He and Jane spoke almost simultaneously. If not for the seriousness of the moment, Kurt would have found it funny.
"I'm unarmed now, Jane. I swear."
Jane scooped up his weapons from the floor. If she'd been just another suspect, he could have taken her down as her attention wavered, but the idea of using force to subdue her made his gut churn. He'd lose the trust he'd worked so hard to build back up between them; there was no way he'd risk it unless there was no other option.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
Jane took a shaky breath and nodded, still not lowering her gun. "Come in and close the door behind you. But don't come any closer than that."