Kurt slowly stepped forward, then turned to close the door. As he took stock of the situation, Jane backed off enough that she could switch targets from Keaton back to him if necessary, ditching the weapons he'd handed over when she got within reach of the side table just past her captive.
It hurt that she was treating him like a threat again. For her to be this wary of him, she must have given up all hope that he'd be able to keep her safe from the CIA. Was this some sort of flashback event in her fractured psyche, or did she just think she'd mis-stepped too badly to be saved? The way she'd been convinced he'd hate her after she'd tortured Cade was only a drop in the ocean compared to this.
Without advancing farther down the hall, Kurt couldn't get a good look at Keaton's injuries, but he seemed conscious and alert.
"Welcome to the party, Weller," he said sardonically. "Did you bring the chips and dip?"
"Do you want to get out of this alive?" Kurt asked him. "'Cause if you do, I'd suggest keeping quiet. One more smart-ass comment, and I'll ask Jane to pull the trigger."
"Are you a federal agent or a lovesick puppy?" Keaton snapped back.
"Both of you, shut up," Jane ordered. "This is so ridiculous; it's like one of my hallucinations at the black site."
Kurt and Keaton both fell silent.
"So where were we, Keaton?" Jane said. "You like to ask the same questions over and over again, right? Let's take it from the top. Explain why you took me out of FBI holding without authorisation from the arresting agent."
Keaton sighed. "Because the CIA was pretty sure you were a terrorist. And we were right."
"You didn't know that at the time. I didn't know it at the time."
She was shaking, but her gun hand was impressively steady, only wavering a little. Now that he had time to study her while her focus was off him, Kurt could tell how frightened Keaton actually made her—and how angry. She wasn't quite at the point of being on a hair trigger, but if provoked—if Keaton managed to free himself, or threatened her too boldly—she would shoot first and regret it later.
Keaton spoke with the weariness of someone who'd parroted the same lines a hundred times. "I was ordered to extract intel from an enemy combatant."
Even before Jane responded, Kurt knew that the jargon wouldn't sit well with her.
"Let me translate that into plain English for you. You were ordered to torture someone you thought might be a terrorist—without any actual proof— into giving you information you wanted, but that you had no good reason to believe that person actually had, given that their polygraphs and brain scans all showed that they were a genuine amnesiac. Am I right?"
Keaton didn't say anything.
"Am I right?" Jane demanded again, crouching to press the muzzle of the gun against Keaton's right shoulder socket. "You know which one of my injuries took longest to heal? My right arm. Do you want to answer me, or do you want me to show you how it felt?"
"Jane," Kurt said softly, hoping that the reminder he was there would cool her down a little.
"Yes, you're right. But as I have already said, the laws of the United States allow for the indefinite detention and interrogation of terror suspects." Keaton sounded bored, but he had to be feeling the strain of the situation by now.
Jane took a step back, still tense, but her anger further below the surface. "The law is wrong. You said in the black site that the monsters don't play by your rules, so you have to play by theirs. Did you ever consider that by torturing and tormenting your suspects, you create the monsters?"
Keaton snorted. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that idea. Wonder why?"
"Jane," Kurt said, bringing her focus back to him. "We need to get you out of this situation. Do you trust me?"
Jane looked back at Keaton, then returned her gaze to Kurt. "You know I do, but there's no way out, not now."
"Keaton," Kurt said, not taking his eyes off Jane. "Why are you in Sofia?"
"To apprehend Douglas Winter." Whether he understood where Kurt was taking this or not, Keaton played along.
"You weren't here to recapture Jane?"
"No. I'm on the run in Europe because she gave terrorists my name. I heard through the CIA grapevine that there was a possible lead on Winter, and I decided to check it out. I didn't even know she'd be here."
Jane's shoulders slumped, as though she acknowledged how badly she'd screwed up.
"And you knew she had PTSD when you declined to take our advice to stay away from our team."
Keaton sighed. "Yes. I knew there'd be a risk I'd trigger Jane's PTSD when I walked in the door. I just thought you'd have her with you on the front lines of the gunfight, and I could sneak in the back and take Winter."
"Were they your men? The ones who stormed the place?" Jane asked tersely.
"No. I have no idea who they are. I thought they might be the Bulgarian mercs who were guarding him."
"They weren't," Kurt said, taking control of the conversation again. Hoping Jane would let him lead for now. "We have no idea who they are if they're not your men. But they killed one of ours."
Jane took a step towards him. "Who?"
"Caruso." Kurt pushed down his guilt at not being able to save the agent under his command. Later, he'd let himself indulge it, when things were calm again.
"I'm sorry," Jane murmured. Even in this high-stress situation, she still cared, still worried about him.
Kurt took the opportunity to move a careful step forward. "Jane…"
She shook her head, raising the gun again. "Stay where you are, Kurt. Please. I know you want to help, but…"
He held up both hands. "I'll be right here."
Mercifully, Keaton didn't undo the work Kurt had started with more sarcasm. He kept quiet as Jane took a shaky breath and confessed, "I couldn't control myself, and now there's no way out for me."
"Let me help you. Can you put down the gun?"
Jane's hand tightened on the grip. "I'm afraid of what will happen if I do."
"Okay. You can keep it for now. But keep looking at me, okay? Just at me."
Jane nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
"I know you're scared. I know what he did to you, and I know how much it hurts that he isn't gonna be punished for it. And how hard you're working to make up for the things Remi did. I'm with you, no matter what you decide to do."
"Really, Weller?" It was like Keaton just couldn't help himself. "You're gonna let her kill me?"
As he gazed at Jane's ashen face, Kurt searched his soul. Would he let her kill Keaton? No. But if it came down to arresting her or helping her cover up the crime, taking into account who she'd killed and why… He'd take Jane's side in a heartbeat.
Jane immediately focused on her hostage again, weapon raised. "What would be the point in killing you? Some other morally bankrupt asshole would just rise up a rank to take your place, just like you did with Carter."
Kurt relaxed a little. She wasn't actually premeditating Keaton's murder—that was a relief.
As Keaton scowled up at her, Jane said, "I don't agree with my mother's methods, but it's hard to argue with her reasons. This country is broken, and people like you, who just do your job without questioning what it'll lead to? You're part of the problem."
"Jane." Kurt tried to regain her attention, but she was too incensed.
"You want to protect your wife and daughter from the bad guys? Start by looking at yourself, and your own organisation. I'm not gonna turn on the US, fall back in with my mother and brother, because I don't believe that the ends justify the means. Not like you do."
Had Keaton just flinched? Kurt hoped so, because every word Jane was saying, he agreed with.
"Think about what they're asking you to do. Look under the surface of the bullshit they feed you. 'Collateral damage' isn't just a term. It means innocent lives lost. 'Extracting intel'? That's torture, and most torture victims will eventually say anything just to get the pain to stop, true or not. You know I'm right. Are you really so jaded that it doesn't matter to you? That you'll just get your hands bloody and then collect your paycheque, like your job is just like any normal job?"
"Jane," Kurt said again, a little more forcefully.
"What if some agency decided your daughter had fallen in with a terrorist group, just because she was dating someone close to them without even knowing it? Would you let them take her and torture her for months on end, because they were convinced that she knew something? No, I bet you'd move heaven and earth to get her back, right? Even if they were acting under the law."
"Okay!" Keaton yelled. "You've made your goddamn point, Doe. What do you want me to do, apologise?"
"Yeah, that'd be a good start, if I thought you'd actually mean it."
"Jane."
Maybe she heard the pleading note in his voice, or maybe she'd finally said everything she'd been holding in since the CIA had first taken her. Either way, she turned back to Kurt, levelling her weapon at him as he took another step forward.
"Don't, Kurt."
He shook his head, taking another step. "You're not gonna shoot me, Jane."
"I can't go back to that black site. If I have to, I will kill everyone who stands in my way."
There was a firm edge of resolve in her tone, but he read past it to the desperation beneath. "I'm not gonna let them take you back there, either."
"How are you gonna stop them, Kurt?" The first tear fell as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurred vision. "You don't have enough power on your own. If Nas gives up on me, then I—"
"I love you. I'll give up the badge and go on the run with you if that's what it takes, but I'm not gonna lose you again."
Jane let out a single sob, the gun still held in front of her, though she couldn't possibly see clearly to shoot. At this close range, she would probably hit him anyway if she pulled the trigger, but Kurt didn't think she would.
He advanced another step, leaned forward so that she felt the pressure of his chest against the muzzle of the gun. "I just want to help keep you safe. Give me the gun, Jane."
He felt her tremble through the metal digging into his chest. With another gasping sob, she closed her eyes, fighting to keep the tiny scrap of composure she still had.
Slowly, carefully, Kurt closed his hand around the barrel of the weapon and began to tilt it downward. Head bowed in defeat, Jane released her hold on the gun entirely.
The tension flooded out of Kurt's muscles, leaving him a little unsteady. He flicked on the safety, then tossed the weapon onto a side table, out of reach.
Beside them, Keaton gave a sigh of relief, but said nothing, perhaps remembering Jane's hand-to-hand combat skills. He wasn't out of the woods yet, and he knew it. How long he would keep quiet, Kurt had no idea, but he didn't spare the agent a glance as he drew Jane into his arms.
She clung to him, still keeping her sobs locked in her chest, fighting her need for air so that Keaton didn't see her lose her grip completely. Again, Kurt took her hand and pressed it against his beating heart, reminding her without words that he was here with her, that he wasn't going anywhere.
Instead of falling apart, the way she might have done if they were alone, Jane swallowed down her sobs and straightened, pulling back far enough to look up into his face. In response to his questioning look, she gave a terse nod and stepped out of his arms, heading back down the hall to the bathroom but not closing the door.
As she presumably washed her face and pulled herself together a little, Kurt went in search of something to cut Keaton's ankles free of the large zip-tie Jane had used to restrain them. After finding a pair of large scissors in a kitchen drawer, he crouched to release the agent's legs, then took out the standard key that would free any pair of this brand of cuffs.
"Thanks," Keaton said, shifting a little to give Kurt better access to the restraints.
Instead of releasing him, though, Kurt sat down beside him and said conversationally, "We need to talk."