Author's Note: It's been a million years between chapters again, I know! But I. HAVE. FINISHED. :D The ending is in two parts, this one being the first. The second part IS already written, but I want to sleep on it, and then filter out any excess happy-ending cheese, before I post it. There won't be more than a couple of days between the two chapters, because I'm sooooo ready for this to be transferred to the completed pile.
Thank you as always to my fanfic cheer squad: lurkingwhump, chibinoyume, and now nachosncheeze and scottimae94, too. And everyone who still cares about this fic, four years after I started posting it. You guys are amazing!
Five months later…
"Just, please. Don't go silent on me. After everything that's happened…" Jane stalled, not wanting to give voice to her worst fears.
Roman smiled, genuine affection in his face, though his body language held a hint of exasperation. "I wouldn't do that to you. Sunday nights, right? I'll always call."
"Thank you." Jane wrapped her arms around her brother, reassured by the comfort of his return embrace, but saddened at the same time. "If you need me, I'll be here. If I'm gonna be away on vacation, I'll let you know, and…"
"Stop worrying." Her brother gave her a final squeeze, and stepped back. "I can take care of myself."
I know. But I'm still so scared that you'll run into trouble out there.
Or go looking for it.
Jane kept her fears to herself, and looked past him, at the car he'd managed to buy with the cash from his FBI consulting job. He'd been thinking about getting a motorcycle for his road trip, but in the end, he'd opted for a second-hand Ford, saying he could use it to sleep in if he was too tired to get to the next motel. Now his abdominal wound had healed, and the FBI no longer needed him, he'd packed his meagre belongings into a duffel bag—Jane had laughed when she'd seen it, remembering Times Square—and he was ready to go.
He'd already said goodbye to the rest of the team, just before he'd turned in his ID card and severed ties with the FBI. Now Jane, along with Kurt and Nas, were here—on the sidewalk outside the safehouse—to see Roman off on his journey to find himself.
Jane understood that he wanted to get some distance from everything that had happened, out of the proximity of Shepherd and the compound, and away from the FBI. Even after five months of helping them tie up Sandstorm's loose ends—first working from his bed in the safehouse, then from Patterson's lab, decrypting Shepherd's communications and providing insight into how she'd worked—Roman was still uncomfortable with his necessary ties to law enforcement. Decades of Shepherd's indoctrination had left their mark, and though he had become friendly with the team and Kurt, for Jane's sake, he still kept his distance.
She wished she could give him some of the sense of belonging she felt when she walked into SIOC every day, but she knew that she had to let him decide his own path, now. It was good enough for her that Roman had decided to play nice with the FBI for as long as he had. As long as he could visit her without being hostile towards Kurt or her friends, Jane would be happy.
Speaking of…
Kurt cleared his throat. "Drive safe, Roman. You're welcome to come back anytime."
Roman nodded awkwardly, though his smile was genuine. "Thanks for everything, Weller. Take care of my sister. Not sure if you've noticed, but she's kind of a handful."
Kurt grinned, as Jane punched her brother gently in the arm. "I'll manage," he said. "Somehow."
Jane nudged him, a mock reprimand, and Kurt slid his arm around her waist, silently offering support. She'd been dreading the moment she'd have to let her brother walk away. Just having Kurt there made it easier, though.
Nas stepped forward. "Roman. I probably won't see you again, so let me just say one more time how grateful I am for your help. The whole Eastern Seaboard owes you a great debt, even if they don't know it."
Roman nodded, less comfortable with Nas than he was around Kurt and Jane. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight, as he replied, "Thanks for the second chance—for Jane, and for me. I'll, uh…I'll try not to screw mine up."
Nas smiled. "I'm sure you won't. Take care."
Kurt squeezed Jane's hand. "Nas and I'll wait for you inside. Take your time."
Jane nodded, grateful for a few last, unobserved moments with her brother.
As Kurt and Nas headed inside the safehouse, Roman stepped towards the car, clearly eager to escape the farewells. Jane knew this was something he needed to do, but his readiness to be on the road hurt a little.
Just think how he must have felt when Remi ran off to join the Navy, she told herself. He was only sixteen. You're a grown adult.
Jane swallowed the lump in her throat as he opened the driver's door. "If you do stop at that motel I mentioned, tell Kalina hi from me. She'll probably give you a discount on your room."
He dug in his pocket. "I will. And hey, speaking of money… I got you something."
He flicked something that shone silver into the air between them, and Jane snatched it instinctively. As she gazed down at their coin, cradled in her palm, she had to fight back tears. He'd been hanging onto it since the night she'd brought him home from the hospital, over five months ago.
"Thanks," she said, her voice wavering a little. "I'll take good care of it."
Roman rested his hands on her shoulders, smiling a little. "Now you know I'm coming back."
She nodded, tucking the coin into her pocket. "Be careful out there."
Roman gave her one last hug, and she struggled to regain her composure. This is good. This is a happy ending to his story. He gets to go out and find out who he wants to be, without Shepherd. Even if he can't legally leave the country for the next three years, he has his freedom.
But she would miss him so much.
"I better go," Roman said, as he ended their embrace.
"Yeah. Talk to you Sunday."
She returned to her previous spot on the sidewalk, while Roman slid behind the wheel. The door slammed, the car's engine growled into life, and then, with one hand lifted in farewell, Roman drove off.
Her heart aching, Jane brushed a tear from her cheekbone, watching the car until it disappeared from view. Then, taking a deep breath, she mounted the steps towards her old safehouse, pushing open the door, one last time.
She offered a sad smile as Nas and Kurt registered her entrance. "I, uh… I guess that's it."
"He'll be fine, Jane." Kurt laced his fingers through hers as soon as she came within reach.
She nodded, glancing around at the familiar living area for something to distract her from the emotional farewell. "I wonder who'll be living in this place next."
"You want one last look around?" Kurt asked.
As Jane nodded, Nas interjected, "I'll leave you to it. With Roman's departure, and the Sandstorm case closed, my involvement with the taskforce is officially ended. It seems fitting to say goodbye in the same place we first met."
Remembering that night, when she'd learned she was temporarily safe from Keaton, but that her past was just as terrible as she'd always feared, Jane marvelled at how far she'd come since then. She'd felt trapped, panicked and alone, broken in body and in spirit. Now she had her freedom. She had her team, and Kurt, and Roman. She had a future to look forward to.
"We'll miss you," Kurt said, bringing Jane's focus back to the present. "Never thought I'd say it—but I kind of got used to having you around."
"And I got used to being around. I never thought I'd be comfortable working as part of a team again. You all changed that. I won't forget it." Nas gave him a quick smile, then turned to Jane. "Thank you again, Jane, for everything. Enjoy your new life."
Jane frowned. "You say that like we're never gonna see you again."
Nas seemed to relax, just a little. "I might stick my head in at the NYO, from time to time. If I need your help."
"We'll be there," Jane said. "Where is Zero Division based, anyway?"
Nas' eyes gleamed with mischief, though her face remained serene. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."
Typical Nas. Always keeping secrets, even now.
"And Olvera's people are staying off your back?" Kurt asked, as though he'd had the same thought. "About the things you won't tell us?"
"Don't worry about that. Patterson and I still have everything under control." Nas took a step back. "If you need anything, you have my number. Take care of yourselves."
As she and Kurt watched Nas leave, Jane wondered if it would ever truly sink in that the case was over. She had a few more pockets of memories from her childhood and early adulthood now, but the time period she really considered her life had begun in Times Square. Now that her case was closed, she couldn't help but wonder what her future, as an FBI consultant, would be like. She'd only worked a couple of cases that weren't tied to her tattoos or Sandstorm.
But for now, she had one final goodbye to say—to the safehouse that had sheltered her through the first uncertain months of her amnesia, then offered that same sanctuary to Roman as he'd healed from his injuries. It had never been home, not the way Kurt's apartment was, but the safehouse would always feel significant in her memories.
She wandered from room to room, lost in thought.
She'd been lost here, barely knowing who she was, or which direction to head in. This hadn't been her first safehouse—Markos' break-in had seen to that—but the first one hadn't had time to be more than a brief waypoint. She'd been so focused on her confusion, on who might have wiped her memory and tattooed her, that she'd barely registered her surroundings for those first couple of days.
This safehouse had been both a sanctuary and a prison, a place for her to struggle with mysteries, decisions and emotions. So many of her memories were painful, though recalling them no longer choked off her oxygen the way they once had. The initial loneliness of her evenings after work, with her protective detail camped out outside. Humiliated violation at everything that had been done to her. The agony of knowing that her team would hate her, once they found out she'd been the one to have herself tattooed and sent to them. The spectre of Taylor Shaw at the edge of her memories, a person she'd tried so hard to be, even if her instincts told her something was off. The forbidden longing for Kurt, the uncertain hope and anxiety Oscar had provoked within her, the sickening confirmation that her past self had been a terrible person, the way she'd always feared...
So much shame, so much self-hatred. The certainty that when it all came crashing down around her, whatever she got would be exactly what she deserved. Kurt's cold stare as he ordered her to kneel and put her hands behind her head. Nightmares and panic attacks, the constant dread that the CIA would seize her again, the fear that Shepherd would discover that she was working against Sandstorm…
But there'd been joy here too, bright spots in the darkness—camaraderie and laughter offsetting the loneliness; reassurance and encouragement balancing the scales against anger and frustration. Kurt's intense gaze and Roman's wry smiles, the team's good-natured teasing as they ate pizza and sipped beer. The catharsis of telling the truth, even in a blaze of anger. Urgent kisses, fevered caresses, physical sensation drowning out all the fears and doubts, just for a little while.
Love where she'd least expected to find it, after all the destruction she'd wrought.
A little overwhelmed, she brushed her fingers over the purple paint on the living room wall, as though the emotions would flood down her arm and into the solid surface, granting her a respite. It didn't, and she let her hand fall again, reminding herself how much better things were now. The past was the past, littered with the ghosts of old mistakes that she'd never forget. But she didn't have to stay here and be haunted.
Kurt had only spent the night here once—just after their relationship had truly begun, the night before the disastrous mission in Sofia, Bulgaria. Even so, this place held many memories for him, and not all of them good. He knew Jane's experiences here were just as mixed—from laughter to panic attacks, fury to numbness, tentative flirtation to unrestrained pleasure, he'd seen her go through it all in this room.
You… You're my starting point.
Whatever this is, whatever it was about, it's finished. Jane Doe, you're under arrest.
Just breathe, Jane. I'm here.
Jane, I can't help fix this if you won't open up. Tell me what's on your mind.
I betrayed your trust and you're still here, even though you can't forgive me. Why?
That is so much worse than anything Keaton did to me, Weller. He broke my body, but you broke my spirit.
The feelings I had for you didn't go away. I just locked them down so I didn't lose my mind.
Being in this room with me hurts you so much? We change that. Make a new memory, here and now.
I want you to feel safe with me.
I'd rather you fucked with my body than my mind, Weller.
People kept saying your name. I barely even realised that I had tattoos for about twenty minutes after I came out of the bag, let alone that one was your name. But I connect you to Times Square even now. That's why I'm leaning towards that one. It's symbolic.
I didn't draw it because I knew you'd be upset, Kurt. I drew it because it means something to me.
Jane Doe, you're under arrest for stealing my heart.
I want all of you. Even the damaged parts.
Kurt slid his hand into his jacket pocket, reaching for his phone, but his fingers brushed the ring box he'd been carrying around for months. He'd been waiting for the perfect moment to propose, still a little stung by the way Jane had turned him down before her undercover mission. Though he understood her reasons, the emotional wound was still sore.
Since she'd been back home, he'd dropped occasional hints into their conversations, letting Jane know that he hadn't forgotten what he'd asked of her, testing the waters to see if a proposal would be welcome. Jane had never reacted negatively to those little reminders, though she'd never called him on them, either.
Not that he blamed her—she'd been fighting so many battles lately. For Shepherd's and Roman's futures, and for her own. Her guilt over the murder Shepherd had forced her to commit still weighed heavily on her, and while facing down Keaton in DC had eased her nightmares a little, her sleep was still restless. Her therapy sessions and meds had been helpful, and she hadn't woken him up in the middle of the night for over a month, but sometimes she was weary in the mornings, confessing to nightmares that weren't alarming enough to jolt her awake, but that seemed to go on for hours.
Overall, she was doing much better, and now that the Sandstorm case was closed, her most immediate worry was whether Roman would be able to keep himself out of trouble. Kurt fully intended to distract her from that whenever he could.
But not with a proposal—not today, in a place that held more pain than joy. He had a different plan in mind to divert Jane's attention.
Instead of the ring box, he drew his phone out of his pocket and called up a specific page in his browser. While he waited for it to load, Jane returned to the living room, skimming her fingers over the wall, as though she were mentally wishing it farewell.
"You okay?" he asked softly, as she returned to his side.
"Yeah. I will be." Her voice was subdued, her smile half-hearted. It had been a while since he'd seen her sink this deeply into her thoughts, and he sensed old memories were weighing her down.
It wasn't surprising, under the circumstances. Hell, even he was having trouble breaking free of them right now.
Time for that distraction.
"A final memory for the safehouse," he said, and passed her the phone.
Jane's eyebrows rose as she took in the details on the screen. "A charity gala in Midtown?"
He pulled her into a loose embrace, his heart lifting as the shadows of anxiety receded from her face. "Now that the case is closed, and Roman's off on his road trip, I thought we could finally have that date we keep talking about." During sex. Mostly during sex.
Jane had obviously had the same thought, because the smile that tugged at her lips was a little suggestive. "I wasn't sure we were ever actually going to go."
She glanced from his face back down to the event page, and her jaw dropped. "Kurt, it says tickets are three hundred dollars each!"
He grinned. "Then I guess it's lucky that guy we arrested on Wednesday had a couple of tickets in his apartment. He's a flight risk, so the judge won't let him out on bail, and the page says no refunds, so they'd just go to waste if no one took them."
"Well, when you put it that way…"
Jane made as if to tuck his phone back into his pocket, her hand coming close enough to the ring box to make him nervous. He intercepted the phone and put it away himself.
"I know we said we'd do it months ago, but we had so much going on until now. It's in two weeks, so you'll have heard from Roman by then…and it'll give you time to find a dress."
Jane rose on her tiptoes, her kiss slow, but full of implied promises. When she drew back, her voice was huskily amused. "I know you're just trying to distract me."
"But it's working." He made it a statement, not a question. Jane was easy to read right now.
"It's working." She rested her forehead against his with a sigh. "Thank you. Things in my brain were getting…a little dark."
Kurt brushed his lips over her brow as he stepped back. "You ready to get out of here?"
Jane glanced around one more time, her expression wistful. "Yeah. Time to go."
Together, they left the safehouse behind, locking up behind them without speaking, returning to the car. They remained silent until the street had disappeared from the rearview mirror, each of them preoccupied with their own thoughts.
Jane was the first to speak, voicing the thoughts that had been on Kurt's mind, too. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"
"Yeah. We really have."
Author's Note: Part two of the epilogue will be the gala - watch this space in a couple of days. :)
