Author's Note: So glad you guys are still with me on this incredibly long journey! I'm starting to tie up a few loose ends now, though obviously the focus is still going to be Jeller. Unfortunately, they can't just go home and crawl into bed, Kurt being the only high-ranking FBI official around while Pellington is in the hospital, and Jane being worried about Roman...
Jane had spent a fair amount of time alone in Zero Division in the past, but after so many weeks away, it was strange to be back here—almost dreamlike. After checking in with the hospital about Roman, she wandered around the room, soaking in the quiet atmosphere.
Once, this area of the NYO had felt oppressive, a tangible representation of the deal she'd struck with Nas to keep her out of CIA custody, and of the strain she was under. Maybe it would feel different when she wasn't so numb. Right now, she didn't feel anything but emotional exhaustion.
It was over. The cause she'd devoted her entire remembered life to was…resolved. It didn't feel real. She remembered Kurt telling her, back when they'd first spent the weekend together, that things wouldn't always be like they were, that she'd eventually be free and clear to do whatever she wanted, without worrying about Sandstorm or the CIA. It had just seemed like an abstract concept at the time, but now that new era of her life was beginning to dawn, and she couldn't quite comprehend it.
She picked up the paperwork sitting on her desk, and exhaled slowly. Three sets of immunity deals—one for her, one for Roman, and one for Borden. All three were signed by Nas and Kurt, but still waiting for a sign-off by the Department of Justice.
This was supposed to be the reward for all of her hard work, and yet, she couldn't seem to muster any kind of emotion, positive or negative.
She ran her fingers over Borden's real name—Nigel Thornton—and sighed. Did he know the attack was over? Patterson had told her Borden had been the one to suggest looking under the floorboards. Jane might have come up with the same possibility, if asked—but with her mind under so much stress, it was equally likely that it would never have occurred to her.
Checking on Borden would fill a few minutes, give her something to do. She stopped by the restroom to wash the dried blood off her hands—Roman…please pull through—then took the paperwork to Borden's cell.
He stood up as she entered. "Remi. I'm glad you're safe."
"Jane," she corrected wearily. "I don't need to be Remi anymore."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again and inclined his head, moving the conversation on. "I take it it's all over? And Shepherd is upstairs?"
She nodded, a flare of anxiety rising and receding. "I guess once you're out, they'll move her down here."
Hope in his eyes, he stepped forward as she pressed the paperwork to the see-through partition between them. "Oh, thank god. You have no idea what a weight off my mind that is."
"I assume they'll want to run us all through their illegal polygraph before they hand these over." She sat down and scooted the chair closer to the window. "At least, if we all live."
His brow furrowed in concern. "Roman?"
"In surgery. He took out the team he was leading, but they got him first." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. Just because this man had once been her friend and therapist, and just because he'd helped to save them in order to save himself, that didn't mean he could be trusted or relied upon.
"I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Truthfully, your brother scares me a little, but he did the right thing, where it counted."
"We all did, I guess." Jane rubbed the back of her neck, attempting to massage out residual tension.
"Patterson told me about the…the link between Shepherd and the drone strike that led us to meet in Afghanistan." Agony crossed his face for a second. "If I'd known I was working for the enemy the whole time—"
Jane remembered that feeling from back when she was in the black site. It was hard not to relate to his despair. She didn't have the same feeling of betrayal about the Douglas Winter frame job as Remi would have, since her memories of Orion, and of growing up with Shepherd, were sparse. But the recollections of Mayfair's arrest and death still sickened her, many months later.
"Did you know?" Borden demanded.
"Back before the ZIP? I doubt Remi knew. She wouldn't have done anything Aurora wanted if she'd known Shepherd manipulated her like that."
"I feel like my whole reason for existing has been torn away." Borden looked bleak. "Getting revenge for Chris' death was the force that drove me."
"And now it's not quite so black and white. The government has just saved your life, and Shepherd was partly responsible for the strike on Chris' hospital." She attempted a smile. "Am I your therapist now?"
"You don't look in a condition to be worrying about anyone but yourself at the moment." He gave her a tired smile in return.
"Too bad. I'm gonna be worrying about Roman for a while. And even Shepherd." She stood up, wanting out of the conversation. "I may be FBI now, but the use of black sites still makes me sick. If Kurt didn't agree with me, I don't think I could stay here."
"If anyone deserves a black site, it's Shepherd."
She shook her head. "They'll never break her. And even if they get something out of her, it'll take months or years. Nobody deserves that."
Pausing at the door, she looked back at him. "I just wanted to let you know it's all over."
"Appreciated." He nodded uncertainly. "I, um… I hope Roman pulls through."
She murmured a thank you, then let herself out.
In retrospect, maybe going to see Borden had been a bad decision. Had she been seeking a therapist? A friend? Or maybe she'd just needed to assuage her own guilt that he was in the cell in the first place. If he'd never met Remi, he'd never have ended up needing an immunity deal—or even mourning his wife.
She sat by the phone the hospital would call her on, if Roman… Don't think about it. There had to be something useful she could do. Stacks of paperwork were probably waiting for her, but she wasn't sure what the correct forms and protocols were when coming out of a deep undercover mission—this was her first. And hopefully the last.
Needing something to occupy her hands, she located the sketchbook she kept at the office, and began to draw her brother, attempting to capture the wry humour and affection she saw in him sometimes. It was difficult to get his expression right, and she glared down at the sketch, frustrated.
"Looks just like him."
Kurt's voice startled her, and she was half out of her chair before she could stop herself. He caught her shoulders, his eyes concerned. "Easy. It's just me."
She dropped the sketchpad on the desk as she sat back down again. "I can't get him right. There's something about him that I just…can't get down on the paper." She stared at the flat, lifeless drawing of Roman, devoid of the vitality she'd been trying to convey. "What if I never see it again?"
Kurt pulled out another chair and positioned it close to hers, then sat down. His hands in hers were comforting. "Has there been any news?"
"He made it to the hospital alive. They're working on him now. That's as much as they're able to say at this point."
Jane flinched as Kurt squeezed her hands, and he instantly went into protective overdrive, examining the one she'd cut on her way out of the window earlier. It was her left, so she hadn't been using it to draw with, and her mind seemed to have filtered out the pain until now. When she'd washed out the wound earlier, she'd thought about dressing it, but her mind had been so scattered that she'd forgotten again within a few moments. Now it was gaping a little, mostly bloodless, but vulnerable to infection.
Kurt kissed her forehead and stood up again. "Hang on. I'll grab the first aid kit."
It almost seemed pointless to bother with this insignificant cut when Roman was fighting for his life, but she knew it would make Kurt feel good to do something for her, so she murmured, "Sure."
He returned within a couple of minutes, and carefully took her hand again. Without saying a word, he cleaned and dressed the wound slicing across the heel of her hand, then gently kissed the dressing before turning to pack away the supplies again.
"Thank you," she managed to say, wishing her brain would function on a high enough level that she could communicate better with the man she loved. She'd spent so much time apart from him, all the while wishing that she could talk to him, that they could spend time together. Now that they were sitting a few inches apart, her mind just kept stalling.
Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him, denying her even the ability to clearly see him. When he'd finished cleaning up and returned his attention to her face, though, she could still tell how worried he was, despite the impaired vision.
"Oh, Jane," he said under his breath—and then his arms were around her, wonderfully tight, lifting her off her chair and into his lap.
She rested her head on his shoulder, holding her breath, knowing that if she allowed herself to exhale, it would be in a sob. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of falling apart right now. Kurt had work to do. The whole of the NYO was depending on him. He'd have to leave soon, but he'd never abandon her while she was crying so hard. She had to keep it together so he could do his job.
"It's okay," he told her softly, kissing her shoulder. "You can cry. I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe."
Jane resisted for a moment longer, not wanting to contribute any further to the immense pressure he was under, but eventually her need for oxygen became too great, and she sobbed in his arms.
"You're home," he said, his voice breaking as he stroked her hair. "You're safe now, Jane. I'm here, and I love you."
I'm sorry, she wanted to tell him. I know how hard all this has been for you. I could see it the moment I laid eyes on you in that office. I'm here for you, too.
But she was crying too hard to do anything else, say anything at all, so all she could do was hang on to him and hope he understood.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
If Kurt had felt even a fraction less responsibility for the rest of his people, he would have resigned from his job right then—just said 'to hell with it' and carried Jane out of the building.
She's only still here because I am. She needs to be at home, with no expectations on her and nothing to worry about.
Except that Roman's condition made that last part impossible. I should have planned backup for him, hidden agents in the sub-basement, even if it might have risked tipping off the rest of Sandstorm.
No. He'd made the right call for the safety of millions of people—even though the fate of this one man he'd failed was tearing Jane apart right now. Still, it was difficult not to feel responsible.
He held Jane until her tears had subsided, requisitioning the tissues Zapata kept on her desk so that she could compose herself a little. She tried to smile as she thanked him, and he kissed her softly, unable to help himself. God, I missed her.
Jane traced her fingers down his face, her gaze as intense as it had been the first time they'd met, in the interrogation room where he'd introduced himself as the lead agent on her case. It seemed like yesterday, yet also a lifetime ago.
"Trying to remember me?" he teased gently.
"No. Just re-learning you." Despite her obvious worry and weariness, the love in her expression warmed his heart. "I wanted to draw you so many times while I was gone. I was afraid I was forgetting what you looked like. But it wouldn't have been safe, so I had to draw you in my mind instead." She sighed. "I missed you, Kurt. Every day."
He turned his head into her hand, kissing her fingertips. "I missed you, too."
As though the moment had grown too intense for her to bear, she looked around her, changing the subject. "So how's the chaos control? I saw Director Pellington being wheeled out earlier. He… He didn't look good."
"His son's gonna call when there's an update. Assuming he makes it, I don't think he'll be back here for a month or two." Which means I'm gonna have to step up for him, when all I want to do is take a year off and spend them under the blankets with Jane.
"Is there anything you need me to do?" Jane asked, as though reading his mind. "I was gonna get started on the paperwork, but I wasn't sure if the procedure for coming out of deep cover was different."
"No. We're in clean-up mode today. I'm not even gonna start thinking about the paperwork until tomorrow."
She fidgeted with his shirt collar. "Do you know who was on the front desk today?"
He knew the real question: Do you know who died? "Christian. But his death was not your fault, Jane."
If it was anyone's, it was mine.
She bowed her head. "I tried so hard to think of some way to save him, but it would have blown my cover to argue for him to be knocked out instead of killed."
"I had Patterson put medics on standby to get to him after Sandstorm had cleared out of the room, but they snapped his neck. He had no chance." Kurt sighed. "I couldn't even tell him there was a risk in advance, in case he was a mole."
Jane gave a short, humourless laugh. "We saved millions of people today, and here we are focusing on the ones we let down. It's almost funny."
"Christian was the only fatality." Yet. "Pellington and Reyes are in critical condition—and obviously, Roman. But it could have been so much worse. Our admin staff knew to duck and cover in time, and our agents were prepared. If they hadn't been, it would have been a bloodbath."
"They were meant to take hostages, not just mow everyone down, but if someone had gotten trigger happy… Yeah." Jane shuddered, and he tightened his arms around her. "So they…they all know the truth now, huh? About me? The terrorism, the staged kidnapping?"
"The undercover mission to save all our asses?" he reminded her, tenderness in his voice. "Yeah. They know."
"How much do they hate me?"
Oh, Jane. No one could ever be as hard on you as you are on yourself.
"No one hates you. There might be a couple of people who need a little time to come around, but I've told everyone they can read our reports as soon as they're filed. They'll get over it when they have the whole picture."
Before Jane could reply, Nas entered Zero Division, looking more relaxed than Kurt had ever seen her. Noticing a tearstained Jane nestled in his lap, she raised an eyebrow. "Do you need a minute?"
Yes.
"No—go ahead," Jane said, sliding back onto her own chair. Kurt resisted the urge to pull her back into her previous position, again cursing the responsibilities that prevented him from taking proper care of her.
"I just finished updating the White House and the DOJ," Nas said, smiling a little, "and I have some good news. Since Director Pellington is going to be out of commission for a little while, they're sending an Interim Director to handle his workload for the time being. She's en route as we speak—she'll be here in three hours, and I already have instructions from her to tell you both to take the rest of the day off."
Kurt stared at her, the sudden clearing of his schedule arousing his suspicions. "While you do what with Shepherd, exactly?"
In his peripheral vision, Jane tensed.
Nas looked irritated. "Do you think I have an ulterior motive for everything? The CIA are holding off on claiming jurisdiction on Shepherd for a week, because I requested it. It would have been just as easy to ask to collaborate with Keaton, but I held them off because I know you both have personal links to the case, and you won't want to be stonewalled."
"Thanks, Nas," Kurt said apologetically. "It's…been a long day."
"For all of us," she agreed wryly.
"After that week…she'll be going to a black site?" Jane asked.
Nas shot her a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid so. She's the head of a terrorist organisation. That's standard procedure."
"They'll never break her. They had me for three months, and they didn't get a thing. Who do they think trained me?"
"That's probably true. But it's not my call, Jane."
"So whose call is it? I want a meeting set up between them and me." Jane got to her feet, steel in her voice.
Nas shot Kurt a loaded glance.
"Jane… We have to think strategically, here. The people you're asking to meet…they have the power to refuse your immunity deal. And Roman's." Kurt tried to keep his fear from his voice. "You could end up back in a black site just for asking them to go easy on a terrorist."
"So you're suggesting I should just sit down and shut up, while the CIA does whatever sadistic things they want, under the pretence of gaining valuable intel?" Jane turned to him, her eyes flashing. "I'm not saying Shepherd is innocent, but this whole thing… It's wrong."
"I know." He stood up, too, and held her intense gaze. "I'm not suggesting we back away from this. I'm just saying we need your immunity to be airtight before we go kicking in any doors, okay?"
She held firm, staring him down.
"I'm not the enemy, here, Jane," he told her, keeping his voice calm. "I'm just trying to keep you safe."
Please, let me protect you.
Guilt in her expression, she dropped her gaze. "Fine. I'm sorry. I just…"
"I know." He lightly rested his hands on her biceps, resisting the need to hug her for now. "Let's just get out of here, for now. We've fought enough battles for one day."
"Yeah. I guess so." She looked around at Nas. "Rain check on this conversation?"
"Good plan. And I'll get the coronary MRI polygraphs scheduled for tomorrow—at least, for you and Nigel Thornton. Provided the results are as expected, the DOJ should have no problem signing off on your deal."
Kurt took Jane's hand. "Hospital, or home?"
He read the answer in her eyes—she longed to go home, but her anxiety over Roman would never let her relax. "Hospital."
"Okay. Let's get going."