Author's Note: This is kind of an unnecessary chapter, plot-wise, but I thought it was important for Jane to be the strong one for Kurt for a change, because things have been so one-sided for them throughout a lot of this fic - Jane needing support, and Kurt giving it. So while Jane is still upset about her role in Mayfair's death, she's not going to let it interfere with being there for the man she loves. And this is the final smut scene in this fic, with one more chapter to go after this. Hope you guys are managing 2022 okay so far, and thank you for reading, as always. :)

Kurt felt as though grief was weighing down his whole body. The day had been emotionally exhausting, and he'd cultivated a certain numbness after a while, to get through it all without breaking down.

The wake after Mayfair's memorial service had been full of people he didn't know, and so many of them had thanked him for giving them closure, and for arranging and leading the service. That alone, he could have handled. But an unexpectedly high number of the people he'd spoken to had already heard of him, and had told him that Mayfair had always spoken highly of him.

It had made the way he'd been unable to prevent her death that much more difficult to bear.

The buzz from the Scotch he'd drunk had faded on the subway journey home, and though he was still probably over the legal limit, he wasn't slurring or stumbling. He could have gotten plenty more drunk, if he'd wanted—Patterson had been calling for another round when he'd excused himself, and both Tasha and Reade had put in their orders—but he'd decided to call it an early night. Mayfair had never gotten more than a little tipsy in the presence of her subordinate agents, and as her successor, Kurt felt he should follow her example, at least in the presence of so many members of CIRG.

Before he'd even fully crossed the threshold to his home, his gaze sought out Jane, who was sitting by the window, her sketchbook in her lap. By the time he'd closed the door and set down his wallet and keys, she was by his side.

"Hey." He wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"How'd it go?" She squeezed him a little tighter, before drawing back to search his face.

"I think Mayfair would have approved. Of all of it." He gazed down at her troubled expression. "What happened with Varma? Your text said you'd fill me in when I got home."

Jane sighed, wilting a little. "Nas came in at the last second. She took Varma into NSA custody. I tried to stop her, but she said she'd let you interrogate her at their office, so…"

Goddamn it.

Should he call Nas, demand to know what the hell she was doing? He got the feeling she'd just tell him he could make a formal request after the weekend. And he was too damn tired for a jurisdictional power struggle tonight.

Jane took his silence for condemnation. "Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I didn't want to interrupt the service or the wake. Sofia already hurt Mayfair enough, and…"

And so did I. She swallowed the words, but Kurt could see the guilt plainly in her expression. She hadn't wanted to come to the wake, and he knew how Jane's regrets could weigh her down sometimes.

He pulled her into a tighter embrace, sighing against her hair. "It's okay. Varma's just one loose end. She's not going anywhere. I trust Nas that much, at least."

Jane nodded, without raising her head from his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Nas took advantage when she knew we were focused on Mayfair. I should have seen it coming—she needed a win, after using what she knew to blackmail Olvera's people."

He decided to put the issue out of his mind for now, looking around for a change of subject as he and Jane ended their embrace. "What were you just working on?"

Jane shrugged self-consciously, then retrieved her sketchbook from the coffee table. "It still needs work," she told him, before handing it over.

Kurt gazed down at a sketch of Mayfair. It was only half shaded, still a work in progress, but still an impressive likeness of his mentor. He smiled a little. "Exactly how I remember her. You drew this from memory?"

"Yeah. She was on my mind, so…"

He tilted the sketchbook slightly, and it was almost as though Mayfair's expression changed, becoming the approving half-smile she'd often given at the end of a case, when she'd told them they'd done good work.

The grief he'd been holding at bay crashed over him without warning, and he fought the pressure in his chest, wishing like hell that he could see Mayfair smile like that, just once more.

Jane whispered his name, pulling the sketchbook from his fingers. He looked up just soon enough to register the concern in her face, before she wrapped her arms tightly around him again, comforting and warm.

She's really gone. Not even a body to bury. If Jane hadn't been there, the day she died, we might never have known for sure what happened to her. The next twenty-five years of my life could have been spent searching for Mayfair, just like I did with Taylor.

"Come on. Let's sit down." Jane eased out of his arms too soon, and took his hand, leading him to the couch. She closed the sketchbook and laid it on the coffee table, then stroked one hand tenderly down his face. "Did you eat already?"

He nodded, feeling vaguely guilty that he was letting her worry about him. She'd been through hell, and she deserved someone she could lean on, especially today. He could see the toll it had taken on her—how hard she'd been on herself. "Yeah. What about you?"

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

If he hadn't known her so well, he might have even believed it. But before he could call her out on the lie, her reassuring expression became a firm one. "You take care of me through this damn PTSD, every day. Tonight, I want to take care of you. What do you need, Kurt?"

"I don't know."

Jane hugged him again, and that was what he hadn't known to ask for. He gathered her as close as he could, and she tightened her arms around him in return, murmuring something soft and loving that he could hardly focus on.

She was his safe harbour in this storm of grief, but still, he fought against the lump in his throat, unwilling to break down. She stroked the nape of his neck in a soothing, rhythmic caress, existing in the moment with him, breathing with him, holding him as long moments passed.

"I love you so much," he whispered, hoping she heard the unspoken gratitude in the words.

She nuzzled him in response, then eased back, seeming ready to resume the embrace if he gave the slightest indication that he wasn't done hugging. "Want me to get you a drink?"

Part of him wanted a whole damn bottle, but he knew if he got too drunk, Jane would begin to feel anxious. She'd confessed that it stemmed from the night he'd arrested her, when he'd been so intoxicated that by the next day, he'd forgotten half of the awful things he'd said to her. Since realising it was a trigger for her post-traumatic stress, he'd begun to be more careful around alcohol.

"I drank enough at the bar. Wouldn't say no to a coffee, though."

She smiled, forlorn but genuine, as though by letting her do something for him, he was lifting her spirits a little. He could relate—any little thing he could do to make her feel better had the same effect on him.

"Coffee, or hot chocolate?" Jane asked.

Immediately, his sweet tooth began to tingle. " Huh. Now that you mention hot chocolate…"

She stood on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss, her smile as sweet as the beverage would be. "I'll be right back."

While she moved about the kitchen, he kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his suit jacket. He'd gotten rid of his tie long ago, stuffing it into his inside pocket, but he undid another button on his shirt for good measure.

Jane joined him on the couch a couple of minutes later, handing him a mug of steaming hot chocolate, then cradling her own between her hands.

"You know all the ways to my heart," he told her, resting the mug on his knee while he drew her into the crook of his arm.

Jane laughed softly. "I learned this from you, actually. The first time you made me hot chocolate was the night I helped Cade escape from Shepherd's compound."

Now that she'd brought it up, he remembered. She'd been devastated that night, Shepherd's cruelty and her own guilt crushing her beneath their weight. She'd been convinced that Kurt would reject her, even though her quick thinking—and her refusal to take the easy way to keeping her cover—had led to Cade's freedom. Kurt had been almost at a loss as to how to comfort her, but the combination of hot chocolate and hugs seemed to have helped, as much as anything could have.

He took a sip of the dark, sweet liquid, letting the sugary warmth soothe him. "This is exactly what I needed."

Jane relaxed a little more against his side. "Just let me know if you want anything else."

Kurt took a couple more sips before breaking the comfortable silence. "Did you listen to the service?"

"Some of it. I heard Reade start to speak, but Sofia was there by then. I couldn't let it distract me. And then after the arrest, I just couldn't stick around. It seemed…disrespectful."

He pulled back to watch her, the deep regret in her face tugging at the guilt and grief he'd been fighting all day. He opened his mouth to repeat the same words he'd already said too many times, but she gave him a small, sad smile, touching her fingertips to his lips.

"You don't have to say it again. I still remember this morning, and last night, and all the way back to Bulgaria."

He took her hand from his lips, gently kissing her knuckles. "You remember, but you don't believe. She would have appreciated what you did for her today, Jane."

Jane nodded, and though he sensed her self-recrimination, he also sensed that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. Truthfully, neither did he. He was too exhausted to think about the circumstances that had led to her death.

He changed the subject, allowing them both a respite. "You talk to Roman today?"

She nodded. "I think he's kind of relieved to have some time alone. He's still kind of annoyed about having a protective detail—"

"Well, he is related to you," Kurt interjected, amused.

She feigned a scowl. "But I told him he has to deal with it, until he's healed enough to fight properly. If we missed any of Shepherd's people, and they come at him for revenge, I want him to be protected."

"Bet he didn't thank you for that," Kurt said wryly.

"He didn't. But I told him the alternative was moving back in here, which he really doesn't want."

Their conversation continued on lighter topics as they finished their hot chocolate, and Kurt could feel himself slowly beginning to rise from the depths of his grief, though it was gradual.

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower," he told Jane.

"Okay." She kissed him gently. "You know where I'll be."

He couldn't help but smile as he got up from the couch. It was almost a month since Sandstorm's fall, and he still pinched himself sometimes, marvelling that they'd gotten through it. "Yeah. Thanks."

Jane finished rinsing out their mugs at the kitchen sink, frowning as she considered how best to help Kurt for the rest of the evening. Her own guilt about Mayfair hadn't gone away, but Kurt needed her to be the strong one tonight—that much was obvious. And truthfully, it felt good to be the supportive partner for once, as if by doing this, she was starting to rebalance the scales of their relationship. But what would help him the most?

When she heard him come out of the bathroom, she gave him a couple of minutes before peeking into the bedroom. "Hey."

He pulled a fresh T-shirt on over his head, shooting her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey."

Jane's heart fractured just a little further as she looked him over. His shower had obviously given him too much time to think, and he'd sunk back into the sadness she'd been doing her best to distract him from.

Trying not to let her concern show too blatantly—he'd only take that as a cue to worry more about her, which was exactly what she wanted to avoid—she slid her arms around his waist. "Any thoughts about what you want to do for the rest of tonight? Feel like watching a movie, or…?"

He shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I don't think I'd be able to keep my mind on it. If you want to watch one, though, go ahead. Don't worry about me."

"Because that works so well on you when I say it," she teased gently. "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing new. Just the same old thoughts, going around in circles. You know how it goes."

"Yeah." She stood on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over his forehead, then hugged him close again, inhaling his shower-fresh scent.

He wrapped his arms around her in turn, giving a shuddering sigh. Jane sensed he was about to put on a brave face—to say he'd changed his mind about the movie, or to suggest something else that he didn't really want to do. She didn't want him to fake being okay for her benefit, but if he didn't want to talk about his feelings, how could she prevent it?

Almost all she knew of comfort, she'd learned from Kurt. And more than once, when her thoughts had been too much for her, he'd relied on distraction, redirecting her focus to something far less distressing. Would this be a bad time to do the same?

Gently, she kissed the side of his neck, nuzzling a little, and her spirits rose a little when a light shiver passed through him.

"I was thinking… Maybe I could take another page from the Kurt Weller playbook, if you need to think about something else for a while." She leaned back to look into his face, wanting to be sure she was on the right track.

Genuine amusement crossed his expression, along with dawning arousal. "You think I have a playbook?"

"Figure of speech. But I can try to take your mind off things, if it'll help." Jane traced the skin at the neckline of his shirt with one finger, still watching him for signs that she should back off.

He hesitated, and she sensed the conflict within him. She understood perfectly—it almost seemed wrong to think about sex in the midst of grieving. But she also knew the relief and release it could bring.

"No pressure," she told him, holding his gaze, making sure he knew she meant it. "Just an idea."

Kurt's answering kiss was firm, full of need, but somehow uncertain—as though he knew where he wanted to go, but not how to get there. Jane understood what he was looking for on a level she couldn't explain, and gathered her focus as she pulled off his shirt.

"Step back."

He obeyed without thinking, a small, intrigued frown narrowing his gaze. Jane followed him until he couldn't move any further, pressing close as she guided his hands to the edge of the dresser behind him.

"Stay like this."

The last time she'd taken this much control from him, she'd done it to replace the traumatic memory of her arrest with a much more enjoyable one. She'd knelt in front of Kurt in the same spot where he'd handcuffed her, forbidding him to touch her while she'd pleasured him with her mouth. This time, she gave the order so that he didn't have to think about anything but her instructions, hoping it would clear his mind of everything but what she required of him.

As he had that night, he watched her with hunger in his eyes as she stripped him naked, punctuating the removal of each garment with light caresses across the revealed skin. This time, she didn't kneel, but leaned in close enough to kiss his lips, running her fingers from the base of his cock to the tip, teasing, but not closing her fist around him yet.

Kurt's eyes fell closed, his body rippling with tension. It almost made Jane want to grab her sketchbook and draw the erotic sight in front of her, but there were more immediate, much more satisfying ways to channel her creativity.

She wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing lightly, marvelling at how solid his cock had become in such a short time. He grunted under his breath, and she pressed herself more firmly against his body, stroking up his length, her caress frustratingly slow.

"Jane," he sighed under his breath, and she bit back a smile as he met her eyes with a pleading gaze.

"Too slow?" she asked softly.

"And you're too dressed. And I want to touch you."

She gave him another slow, firm stroke, thinking about it. She wanted to give him everything he needed, but she could also sense how captivated he was by the tease—which was exactly what she'd hoped for.

"No touching yet." She softened the refusal with a kiss, too brief for him to try to seduce her away from her plans.

He groaned as she picked up the pace, and thrust into her hand, his thigh flexing against hers as he moved, giving her a whole new idea. She adjusted her position so that she was straddling his leg, pressing her clit against his muscular thigh as she continued to stroke his cock.

He kissed her this time, hard and longing, each buck of his hips nudging his thigh against the ache between her legs. Jane moaned softly against his lips, wishing her clothes were gone and their bodies were intertwined in the most intimate of ways, even as she wanted to see this tease through to its inevitable breaking point.

Her resolve didn't last long, but how was she going to be able to get undressed without frustrating Kurt—and herself—even more?

She stepped back before she could talk herself out of it, depriving herself of the pleasurable friction between them as she guided one of Kurt's hands to his own cock. "Keep going, while I get undressed."

For a second, she had to pause and appreciate the sight of the man she loved, pleasuring himself while he watched her with a ravenous gaze. She didn't realise how distracted she was until he laughed under his breath, and somehow dragged her attention up to his amused gaze.

She removed her clothing fast, her self control too weak to draw it out. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, right now. As she resumed her previous position, knocking his hand away from his hot, slick cock and replacing it with her own grip, he growled a curse at how wet she was against his thigh.

"Let me inside you," he murmured, breathing harder now. "I need it."

"I need it too," she confessed, but didn't stop what she was doing.

"Then tell me I can. Let me—"

He bit down on the rest of his words as she shifted to the side, rubbing her clit over his steel-hard shaft. Her whole body yearned to take him deep into her, until he filled her just right, but he'd restrained himself so determinedly that she wanted to reward him.

"Do it."

Instantly, he was lifting her onto his hips, sliding her down onto his cock, carrying her the short distance to the bed and lowering her down. Jane spread her legs farther as soon as her back hit the mattress, her head falling back as he pinned her, pushing as deep as he could get. She tilted up her hips, welcoming him even further inside, his name rushing from her lips in a prayer, a plea.

"Don't make me stop," he whispered, as though she had even entertained the thought. "Please, Jane."

"I wouldn't," she reassured him, arching her whole body closer to his. "Don't stop."

His powerful body rippled as he let his instincts take over, and Jane hung on tightly, sensing his overwhelming need to drown out everything else in waves of bliss. Their coupling held more desperation than finesse, more grinding together and gasping affirmations than finding the perfect angles and pressures to trigger their climaxes, but it was exactly what they both craved, rough and needy and somehow just right.

Maybe it was a cliché, but they were together and alive, and death had no place in what they'd just done. As they lay together afterwards, panting for breath, still wrapped around each other, Jane smiled against Kurt's skin. He was completely relaxed for the first time today, and if there was a single coherent thought left in his head, she'd be surprised.

Maybe she'd never be the stable one in their relationship, but she could step up when Kurt needed her, even after she'd had a bad day herself. That filled her with a sense of peace she'd rarely felt during her remembered life, as though she was finally putting aside the worry that she was too broken to be worth keeping around.

That worry would be back, probably sooner than she'd like. But she'd deal with it when it returned. After everything they'd been through, she could handle it—and she didn't have to do it alone.