Author's Note: Thank you for being so patient! Here is the FINAL CHAPTER of Torture Without You. :D


Two weeks later…

Jane hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was bored.

Not by everything. The night had started out exactly as she'd hoped—after slipping into the gorgeous, slinky black dress Tasha had helped her pick out, she'd joined Kurt in the living room, enjoying the way he ate her up with his eyes. She'd drawn his attention to the cherry red lining of the dress, visible only under the slit of the skirt and inside the flowing sleeves, and he'd immediately wanted to investigate further, caressing up her thigh beneath the fabric before letting his hand fall away. They almost hadn't made it out of the apartment, sharing a heated kiss as they'd waited for the cab to show up. If it had arrived a minute later, they would have been far too busy to worry about insignificant things like galas.

When they'd gotten to the venue in Midtown, Jane had been a little intimidated by the obvious wealth and status of the other attendees. Being undercover as someone rich was one thing; being here in her leisure time was something entirely different. Kurt had even pointed out a couple of celebrities on the other side of the room, though there had been no one either of them had much interest in meeting. They'd taken flutes of champagne from one of the servers circulating amongst the guests, wandered through the event space arm in arm, then danced a few songs, ignoring everything but each other as they swayed together.

Like it had that the first time they'd gone undercover, dancing with Kurt had made her forget how out of place she was. This time, she felt even more conspicuous than she had while wearing the six-million-dollar necklace, because she hadn't covered her tattoos. She didn't fit in with these high-class people, and she'd underestimated just how much the ink marked her as an outsider in their world. One or two small ones might have been unremarkable, but her tattoos were visible on her hands and wrists, occasionally flashed from her lower thigh down to her ankle, and on display from her neck to her collarbones.

The stares and hushed comments from people nearby ranged from surprised to disdainful, and Kurt's admiring gaze was a welcome balm to her self-consciousness.

"You'd think I'd be used to people staring at the tattoos by now," she'd said ruefully.

Kurt had blinked. "You think they're staring because of the tattoos?"

"Why else?"

He'd spun her out, then back into his arms, his eyes warm as they tracked down her body. "Because you're stunning."

Jane had laughed. "I might as well be dressed in rags, compared to some of the dresses here. And all this ink probably makes them nervous."

"The dress is beautiful. And so are you." He'd frowned a little, his protective side emerging. "We're only here because it's supposed to be fun. No criminals to catch, no people to rescue... We can leave any time you want, if you don't feel comfortable."

"It's fine, Kurt, really. I don't care if they stare. It's not like I'll see any of them again, after tonight." She'd smiled reassuringly at him. "Anyway, I'm here on the arm of the best-looking man in the room. They're probably just jealous of me."

Kurt had snorted, amused. "Sure, let's go with that."

Now they'd gotten tired of dancing, however, there wasn't much else to do, besides mingle with people they had nothing in common with. The sit-down meal wouldn't be for another hour, and seemed certain to be followed by boring speeches, then an auction full of items that would sell for extortionate sums, far out of their price range. They'd only been here an hour, and Jane was trying not to eye the exit.

She was right about Kurt being the most attractive man in the room, though. Even the celebrity men, with their thousand-dollar suits and movie-star smiles, didn't compare to her tall, dark and stubbled partner. He'd shrugged off her compliment earlier, but it was true.

He'd remembered what Jane had said about preferring how he looked in a suit, compared to a tuxedo, and she suspected he felt a little more comfortable in it, too. It was a more formal suit than the ones he wore to work—she'd been too busy kissing him earlier to ask if he'd had it custom-tailored—and though she knew he hated ties, the maroon one he was wearing now looked great on him.

She couldn't help but wonder how secure the buttons on the charcoal grey shirt beneath his blazer were. Getting dressed up was fun, but on the downside, it was harder to strip a man out of formalwear in a hurry.

Her face began to heat, and she cleared her throat, putting aside that thought for now.

Maybe Kurt had touched upon the reason she was bored. There was no criminal to catch, no threat to neutralise. Maybe what she'd been drawn to about their undercover missions wasn't the fancy clothing or elegant surroundings, but the danger.

No point in complaining about it, though. They were here now, and Jane wouldn't ruin the night they'd fantasised about for so long, since Kurt was enjoying it. And it was fun to watch him stare at her in her formal dress, especially since this time, she'd already heard some of his fantasies about what would happen when they got home…

She finished her second flute of champagne, then offloaded the empty glass on a nearby server. As she turned back to Kurt, she could have sworn she'd seen a flicker of boredom in his face, just for a second.

Was he pretending to enjoy himself for her benefit, the way she was pretending for his? If he was, that changed everything.

After another ten minutes of watching him, she was sure of it, and leaned against him. "Maybe it's just me, but wouldn't this be a hundred times more fun if we were searching for a bomb, or something?"

Kurt froze for a moment, then broke into a reluctant grin. "You had that thought too, huh?"

"I guess what I loved the most about going undercover with you was the risk we'd be caught and killed." She shook her head, torn between amusement and consternation. "What does that say about me?"

"Whatever it is, it's the same thing it says about me. And I love that about us." Kurt drew her in for a quick kiss. "I'm sorry this isn't everything we dreamed of."

"You don't have to apologise, Kurt. I should have realised it was mostly the danger that made it fun."

An idea occurred to her—ridiculous, but…

Keeping her voice down, she murmured into his ear, "We could always pretend there's a bomb."

He laughed, pulling her to the fringes of the gathering, where they were less likely to be overheard and cause a panicked evacuation of the venue. "Okay, who set it?"

Jane scanned the crowd, searching for likely 'suspects'. "The little old lady with the fur collar. Don't let her fool you; she's Dabbur Zann."

He leaned his head close to hers, following her line of sight. "I'll buy it. Accomplices?"

A new tension between them—even if it wasn't quite the same as when they were in enemy territory—they surveyed their surroundings, keeping a surreptitious eye on the elderly woman they'd picked out.

They spoke almost in unison. "The waiter."

Kurt took her in his arms as they both laughed softly. "You know, I think we're gonna have to dance a little more. Just so we can get a good look at the entry and exit points, where they might be keeping the IED…"

"You're the boss," she agreed, amused.

As he led her towards the dance floor, his hand still pressed against the curve of her waist, she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Two o'clock, the guy with the red tie. I saw him earlier with a briefcase, now he doesn't have it. Bet that's how they got the device inside."

"I see him."

"Where do you think they took it?" she asked, enjoying herself far more now.

He spun her out amidst the other dancers, his gaze sweeping appreciatively down her dress—again—as they paused an arm's length from each other, only their fingers touching. Then Jane began her twirl back into his arms, and by the time she looked up at him, his attention was up above them.

"The chandelier. They've got it rigged to drop down here, two seconds before detonation."

This wasn't real, so why did she still feel a flicker of urgency towards their make-believe situation?

She rested her chin on his shoulder while they swayed, analysing possible routes upward. Despite the fact that they were indoors, there were trellises around the dance floor, with real ivy climbing up them. "Okay, so you should take the stairs to the mezzanine. I can kick off my shoes and climb that trellis, creep up behind them."

He drew back to scowl at her, as though she was really planning it. "Are you crazy? That little old lady has an Uzi in her purse. If she sees you climbing, she'll put twenty bullets in your spine!"

Jane kissed him, smothering her amusement against his lips. "If this were real, I'd say Reade and Zapata will take care of them. But I'm getting the feeling you just don't want me showing the Dabbur Zann my underwear."

He gave her a kiss of her own, a little more provocative, though he still kept it brief. "Damn right. Fake Reade and Zapata don't get to see, either."

Jane nuzzled his neck, trying not to laugh so hard that other people would stop and stare, letting Kurt support her as they danced.

Maybe I'm broken compared to all of these other people. But Kurt? His opinion is the only one here I care about, and he's right here with me, mentally taking down bad guys and saving lives.

I love this man so much.


The string quartet who'd been providing dancing music set down their instruments, and someone across the room spoke into a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you're having a fantastic evening so far. Please gather around the stage for welcome speeches by…"

Kurt tuned out the rest, turning to Jane. "Ruining our recon fun."

As people began to file indoors from the nearby terrace, Jane tugged on his hand and led him towards the doors. "Let's get a little air. Unless you want to listen to the speeches?"

Kurt grimaced. "God, no."

They headed out onto the small terrace, where the air was cool, but not chilly. Everyone else was inside, so they were alone for the moment. They leaned against the ornate railings, gazing out across the water, towards Queens.

"Having more fun now?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Since they'd begun their 'case', Jane had begun pressing closer to him, finding more excuses to touch him.

And maybe I should be worried about how much more I started enjoying myself, once I started planning how to get to a bomb.

"Yeah." Jane linked her fingers with his. "I really am. Does that mean the therapy's not working, after all?"

"Nah." He shook his head, turning to appreciate her outfit for the hundredth time. "Just means millionaires are boring, and bomb disposal is fun."

She glanced in his direction and caught him staring, a mixture of shyness and playfulness crossing her expression. "The dress is still making an impression, huh?"

"You have no idea." His voice emerged hungrier than he'd been planning on, tipping the atmosphere from playful to charged.

Jane bit her lip, shifting her weight a little. The dress tightened a little more against her curves, dragging his mind further into the gutter. And she wasn't even doing it on purpose—or was she?

"Maybe I should tell you about the one Tasha wanted me to buy," she said, with a nonchalance that was entirely unconvincing. "The neckline came all the way down here…"

She straightened up, lifted her fingers to her shoulders, and trailed them diagonally down to meet at a point just above her navel. Kurt could have sworn he felt ten points drop from his IQ, as the blood in his brain migrated south.

"Just to make it clear, I love this dress." He slid his hand up Jane's thigh, allowing himself a peek at the dark red inner lining she'd flashed to him earlier. She shivered, wrapping her arms around his neck with a secretive smile that made his pulse jump in response. "But if I took you on another date, would you wear that one?"

She paused for a second, considering. "Only if the date was in our living room. That would be a 'for your eyes only' dress."

He blinked. "Was it short?"

"No, it was floor-length. It didn't even have a split in the skirt. But I barely feel comfortable in this. A dress where people could see the burning rose tattoo? No." There was a note of steel in the last word that told him she wouldn't be reconsidering.

"That's okay. I'm enjoying the split." He kissed her, allowing his fingers to drift just a fraction higher up her thigh. "How long do you think we'll be alone out here?"

Jane laughed, pulling back. "Knowing how much places like these like their surveillance cameras…don't even think about it."

Sighing good-naturedly, Kurt returned to the railing, willing himself under control. "You know, if we were really on a case, we'd be seriously putting the city at risk right now."

Jane shrugged. "The fake team can handle it for a few minutes. The bomb wouldn't be set to go off before dinner. The Dabbur Zann lady's diabetic—she can't just skip meals."

Kurt grinned, wrapping his arm around her, while his other hand felt for the ring in his pocket. He'd wanted to keep it with him, just in case the perfect moment to propose came up—but he'd known he and Jane would be dancing, so he'd taken it out of the ring box, so she wouldn't feel it.

Was now a good time? They were all dressed up, on a date, within a twenty-second walk of some expensive champagne… But still, something in him hesitated, fearful that he was asking too much of Jane, putting on pressure she didn't need.

Would he just keep putting this off over and over again, because he was too afraid to ask the question? It had been over six months since she'd rejected his first proposal. Was she waiting patiently for him to ask again, or relieved that he hadn't?

Since the black site, I've had so many awful nightmares where I kill you, or torture you, or you do those things to me… I guess the PTSD is getting in the way of this, as much as the reality of things.

That was what she'd said, the night she'd turned him down—that she hadn't just turned him down because she was afraid she'd become too much like Remi while she was undercover, but because of her trauma. Since they'd put an end to Shepherd's plans, she was slowly making her way out of the darkness. But was she healed enough that she'd feel able to agree to marry him?

Jane sensed him tensing, and glanced up. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He took his hand out of his pocket, leaving the ring where it was. "Do you wanna go back in, grab another drink while everyone else is listening to incredibly dull speeches?"

"Let's take a minute more out here, while it's quiet," Jane suggested. "It's a little too warm in there, and the air feels nice."

Kurt wrapped his arms around her from behind, and together they watched the lights of Queens, just enjoying being together. Jane leaned further back against him, sliding her hands up his forearms, under his suit jacket. "Even though we've had to make our own excitement, tonight is kind of perfect."

Are you really going to let this moment pass? She just said it was perfect.

Again, he recalled the night she'd turned down his proposal—made himself look past his anxiety and wounded pride to everything she'd said, not just the negative parts.

While I'm away, think about it some more. Be sure it's really what you want. And when I come back, if I'm still the same person, if you still want to commit to me for the rest of our lives…ask me again.

How could he have forgotten that part? Maybe she thought he'd been holding back because she wasn't the same. She'd joked about her therapy not working just a few minutes ago, and he knew she was still deeply insecure about whether or not she was a good person.

You're an idiot, Weller.

Funny, how he could stall for months, torturing himself with the possibility that Jane might not want to marry him…but the second he realised she might be thinking the same about him, he could find the courage.

He nuzzled her neck, unwrapping one arm from around her as he fought a flutter of nerves. As soon as the ring was in his hand, he spoke her name softly.

Jane turned, sensing a shift in his mood. "Are you…?"

He'd agonised over whether to go down on one knee or not, knowing that he'd feel self-conscious, especially if she said no. He took her hand instead, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles.

"Remember back when we first went undercover, when you asked me if I'd ever been married?"

She nodded, her lips curving in the beginnings of a smile. Was that hope in her expression? Not giving himself time to over-analyse things, he held the engagement ring up between them, watching the realisation dawn on her face, as if in slow motion.

The ring was white gold, with several small diamonds set into the metal, rather than protruding from it. Knowing the likelihood that Jane would get into fistfights, a traditional solitaire diamond had seemed like a bad idea. This was more subtle than the wedding ring she'd worn undercover, but he hoped she'd like it.

"That day, I said I was too choosy, but I think part of me had already chosen. I just took a while to catch up with it."

"Kurt," Jane whispered, her warm, astonished gaze lifting from the ring to his face.

"It's been a long time since I first asked, I know. I wanted to give you time to get back on your feet, to figure out what you wanted to come next. But I've known, this whole time, what I want."

Jane's eyes shone, and her smile grew, giving him the courage to finish. "Jane Dover, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you be my wife?"

"Yes." Her response was immediate, the word breathed as much as spoken. "Kurt, you know I will."

For a second, he thought the ring was too small, but then it slipped over the knuckle and all the way into place. He was unprepared for how right it felt to see it on her finger, after months of carrying it around. Fierce, elated love burned in his chest.

Jane pulled him into a kiss, joyful and tender. Relief sapped all the strength from his limbs, and he swayed a little against her.Maybe I should have gone down on one knee, after all.

She blinked up at him. "Wait—were you worried I'd turn you down again?"

All the insecurities of the past six months seemed illogical now, with Jane watching him as though he'd given her the moon and stars. "Maybe a little," he admitted.

She shook her head, sensing the truth beneath his understatement, and threw her arms around his neck. Kurt smiled against her shoulder, closing his eyes and finally allowing the self-doubt to fade. Footsteps signified that they were no longer alone on the terrace, but still, they held each other for a few more moments, absorbed in each other, in the strength of their love and their hopes for the future.

"You still want to stay for dinner and fake bombs?" Jane asked, the warm vibrations of her voice sending a tingle down his spine.

"Depends. You have a better plan?" If she didn't, he could sure as hell think up a few alternative activities.

She nuzzled his neck. "We could go home, and see how the ring looks when it's the only thing I'm wearing."

Kurt swallowed a groan at the mental image. "Scrap the part about going home. There's a hotel next door, right?"

"Mmmm…" She leaned back to watch him, seductive and approving. "And room service means we still don't have to cook."

He steered her towards the ballroom, smiling at the feel of the engagement ring as he laced his fingers through hers. "Hope you're not too hungry, because food? It's gonna have to wait."


"You know, no offence to Kalina, but I'm enjoying this hotel stay a lot more than our last one." Sleepy and replete, Jane snuggled closer against his side.

She immediately regretted the words when a flash of pain crossed his expression. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I'm happy—that's all I meant."

His face softened, and he slid his hand over her long-healed shoulder. "Me, too. And I agree, about the hotel. Though if you feel the need to tie me up again…"

Intrigued, Jane filed away that idea for another time. "Let's give that a rain check until we get home, and focus on room service tonight."

"Good plan." He gave her a brief, affectionate kiss. "Seriously, though. Getting engaged, closing the Sandstorm case, helping your brother move out of the safehouse… All that makes what happened last year seem like a different time."

"Yeah." Jane smiled. "It feels like we're starting a new chapter of our lives. A better one, I hope."

"I'll drink to that…as soon as room service gets here." Kurt lifted her hand from his chest, tilting it so that the diamonds on her engagement ring sparkled in the light. "You like the ring?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous. I never want to take it off."

"Reade said it wasn't flashy enough, and then Tasha told him he knew nothing about women, and then they fought about that until you came back from your coffee run."

Amused, Jane looked up from the ring to his face. "You told the team? That explains the way Tasha was during the shopping trip. She was so determined to find me the perfect dress, it was a little scary."

"Tasha never does anything halfway." Kurt paused, then admitted, "I didn't know if I was gonna ask tonight. Honestly, I almost chickened out again. I didn't want to put pressure on you while you were still working through everything…which has been my excuse for the last six months, by the way. I'm sorry."

Jane blinked. "Why are you apologising? I just figured you thought there were more important things to be focusing on, like working towards getting a good night's sleep, and handling the rest of the tattoo cases."

There was an adorable frown between his eyebrows. "And that's exactly why I'm apologising. I've had this ring for months, I just…a tiny part of me was scared you'd turn me down again. And I made all kinds of excuses to myself, put it off so many times. But I never stopped wanting to make you my wife. If I made you think I'd changed my mind about us, about how important you are to me…"

She kissed him tenderly. "Stop worrying. I want to marry you, of course I do. But with everything that's happened, I was struggling to get through the day for a while, and you were there for me every step of the way. I never doubted that you love me, even if you didn't propose right after we stopped Sandstorm."

His frown eased into loving relief. "Good."

Jane returned her attention to the ring. A part of her could still hardly believe she was engaged. Marriage seemed like something that happened to other people, and yet she wanted to marry Kurt with an intensity she hadn't expected. "So… When do you—?"

A knock on the door interrupted them—the room service they'd ordered.

"Hold that thought." Kurt gave her a quick kiss, extricated his suit pants from the tangle of their discarded clothing, and headed for the door.

"If that's the Dabbur Zann, tell them we have the night off," Jane called after him.

As Kurt dealt with room service, she shelved the question of exactly when they'd be married, at least for tonight. They were no longer racing against Shepherd's clock; they had time, and they were together. Not only that, but I don't know the first thing about planning a wedding. Guess I'll learn as we go.

The future had once seemed so narrow—survive Sandstorm's plans, stay out of a black site, make amends for the mistakes she'd made—but now, everything was opening up before her. The shadows of the past were still with her, and probably always would be, but they were reduced in comparison to the endless possibilities life had to offer.

Jane was ready to get started.

END.


Author's Note: And so it ends! Four years, three hundred thousand words, and so very much fangirling! Thank you for coming with me on this extremely long journey through alternate season two. To everyone who's left reviews, I am so very grateful, and even though I didn't reply to as many as I should, I've never taken any of them for granted, and they've all made me smile. I'd love to know what you guys think of the ending, and the fic as a whole - whether it's 2022 when you're reading this, or 2050. I couldn't have dragged myself to the finish line without you all. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. :)