"She was just a little girl," he says, for the zillionth time in his life. "I was supposed to be watching her."
It's been a long time since he's been there, feels like forever ago that he came to the memorial with Emma; confronted his father yet again. Now they're both dead and she's buried there too, beside Taylor's unoccupied plot.
Kurt hugs himself, tries to keep it together. It hadn't exactly been his idea to stop there on the way to Colorado. He'd been inclined to not go through Clearfield at all since he didn't want to go to Taylor's actual resting place yet, the memory still too raw in his mind. Though it did feel right to say goodbye to Emma, especially now that he knew his own role in her death.
It's like a dagger to his heart every time he thinks about it. She died because of Sandstorm. She died because he was an angry teenager, sponsored by a monster. She died because his father killed her daughter all those years ago. On a night when he was in charge, should have stopped him.
He had been angry for so long, almost his entire life. At his father, at his mother, at himself. But finally there isn't that much to be angry about anymore; the opposite really.
Taylor was gone but his father was too. All that was left was his own eternal regret. Still, at least he now knew what had happened, or as much as he ever would.
As for Emma's murder, he'd tried hard to mentally lump that in with all of Sandstorm's misdeeds. Avenged as much as possible by them stopping Shepherd, preventing a nuclear attack.
Though of course the person that actually killed her had gotten away, had been granted freedom by his wife. Which, perhaps surprisingly, he isn't even upset about. He would never expect her to kill her own brother, no matter the circumstances.
Weller knows she's still conflicted about it though, all this time later. He can feel the anxiety in her as she stands a few feet back from him at the grave site, chewing on her lower lip.
All those things she did in her former life, she's more than made up for them in the relatively short time he's known her. There was a time he wouldn't have believed it possible. That he could forgive her, love her so goddamned much despite everything.
Weller turns to look at Jane again, hates seeing her be so apprehensive. She'd been the one to suggest stopping at the cemetery in Clearfield, had asked him quietly on the morning they drove away from New York. He could tell she'd been uncomfortable even posing the question but had clearly wanted to give him the chance for some closure before he moved across the country. Then she'd tried to stay in the van while he visited the graves, asked him more than once if he wanted time alone.
Fuck, he loved her for that. And for still feeling so shy, shameful that she doesn't even approach the graves. Not that he wants her to feel bad about it or he doesn't want her by his side; he always wants her by his side. Just that she's thinking about what he might need, that she still holds herself responsible for so much.
Kurt turns to her, reaches his hand out silently. Jane looks between his outstretched arm and his eyes a couple times before stepping forward and putting her hand in his; offers him a small sad smile when he slips his fingers in between hers.
"You know none of this is your fault, right?" he asks, giving her hand a squeeze.
Jane looks up at him with those big soulful eyes, her expression so sad and loving all at once. She shakes her head at him with the same wan smile, returns his hand squeeze with one of her own.
"This isn't about me, Kurt," she says. "But I'm here for you if you want me to be."
They stand like that for awhile, hand in hand, just staring at the headstones. His childhood found family, another little sister, a mom that stuck around. He feels like he's lost them both twice now, the new revelations about their deaths almost as painful as the original blows. He hadn't entirely realized that until right then, standing in the town where it all began, in the cemetery where he'd attended so many memorials.
In the rush of it all, he'd never been able to reflect on everything, had the time to finally put his childhood trauma to rest.
The thing was, there was a large part of him that didn't want to give it up, bury his guilt and shame. He'd lived with it for so long, it felt like a fundamental part of who he was. The boy who fucked up; who spent the rest of his days trying to make up for one monumental mistake.
Weller feels his breath hitch with the age old hurt and Jane responds by squeezing his hand again, silently reminding him that she's there.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, after he's caught his breath.
Kurt shakes his head. There's nothing really to say, he thinks. He was right all along, his father was a murderer, had killed his best friend. Left him to a life of anger and guilt and false hope; fending for himself and his sister when they were still just kids. Shamefully he's almost glad Emma isn't alive to really know the truth, that he never has to admit to her that he's the son of the man who murdered her daughter. No matter if they'd both believed it to be true. There is a big difference between thinking and knowing.
Any of the guilt he has left isn't going to be resolved by talking about it. He's going to carry that with him forever, in a soft spot nestled deep in his chest. It's a part of him now, he doesn't want it to go anywhere. It's his penance, a permanent reminder of who he is, why he does what he does.
It is good to stand there though, to have the time to grieve and remember. He's thankful that Jane suggested it; would never have stopped in Clearfield if it'd been left up to him.
He looks over at his wife, feels a pang of happiness just with the thought that she's his, that she chose him. It was the most unlikely thing to have come out of all of the madness in his life. Someone he loved more than he thought possible, that brought out parts of him he didn't even recognize.
Jane is staring at the graves with a sad frown, seeming lost in her own thoughts. He doesn't like the lines of worry etched on her face, the sag of her shoulders.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks her, tugging at her hand to bring her back to the present.
Jane bites her lower lip as she looks up at him and shakes her head sadly.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt," she says. "For everything. Using Taylor's identity, Roman killing Emma. I don't know how I can ever make that up to you."
Oh Jane, he thinks. His erstwhile terrorist. As full of guilt for her past life as he is for his.
Weller pulls her hand up to his lips, plants a kiss on the knuckle of her thumb.
"None of this is on you, Jane," he states. "I'm the one who lost her. I was in charge that night."
No matter what else happened, that would always be the truth at the heart of it all. The one he'd grown up with, the one that would never change.
"You were a child, Kurt," Jane replies, predictably.
"With a responsibility. That I failed at," he says. "Which led to me hating my father, fighting with him. Which led to military academy and Shepherd's fixation with me. That's what brought me and Taylor and Emma into this, not you."
Jane shakes her head, looks so goddamned guilty and sad.
"I remember standing here, watching you," she confesses. "With Oscar. Planning to exploit your pain. Who does that, Kurt?"
She hadn't told him that before, was rather reluctant about sharing most of her past life memories except when operationally necessary. He understands her shame, knows she's still coming to terms with the few things she remembers about her former self.
"Definitely not you," he replies, as sincerely as he can. "I can see how upset you are about it, even now."
"Because it was a terrible thing to do," she declares firmly.
"But it wasn't you that did it," he argues. "I know you, Jane. You would never do something like that to hurt me or anyone else. And I don't want you to live with that kind of guilt."
Jane looks up at him knowingly, he can tell she hears the words he doesn't say aloud.
Because I know what that's like. And it doesn't lead to anything good.
For such a tough person, she is surprisingly sensitive, has been from the start. He knows how guilty she still feels about lying to them in the first place, that she hasn't really forgiven herself for any of it. Stopping Shepherd and Sandstorm hadn't absolved her conscience of her part in it.
More than anything he wants her to just let it go. Sure, it's hypocritical of him to even think it. But he doesn't want her to carry it with her the way he carried Taylor with him all his life. The ZIP had been her chance at redemption and she'd made good on it by taking down her own family. He figures that's more than enough to counter the things done by a past self she doesn't fully remember.
He understands that she doesn't exactly see it that way, that she feels responsible for the sins of her past. But all he knows is Jane, the pure-hearted woman who's risked herself beyond all expectation. So he doesn't see any of that manipulative, terrorist past in her - well, except for her innate ability to connect emotionally and her extreme deadliness.
She's still shaking her head, as if to disagree with his last statement. So Weller pulls her to him, plants her head firmly against his chest so she can no longer tell him no. Then he presses a kiss on top of her head, tells her that everything is okay, that he loves her so much.
They stand like that until his arms are numb and Jane's crying softly into his shirt. He slips his hands under hers, rubs her back up and down, unconsciously drawing along all her tattoos, tracing all her scars. And all the while Jane holds onto him desperately, nestles herself deep in his arms as she repeats the same words, over and over.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry."