I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

It was all Jane could do to keep the smile off her face as she went about her duties the rest of the day. Both Zapata and Rich had approached her begging her to hear Weller out and fix whatever had gone wrong between them, but she had stubbornly refused. Just as she continued to refuse to tell them exactly what the problem was.

She was helping some passengers on the main deck when she felt that same prickle of awareness between her shoulder blades that had dogged her since the first day of this voyage. She knew what it was, of course, though she hadn't felt the sensation in quite some time. Not since the FBI had brought down her mother's organization, in fact.

She was being watched.

Jane scanned the area with a deceptively casual glance as the passengers went on their way, but just as before, she couldn't pinpoint the source of the feeling, and she shrugged it off. Probably just Rich studying her trying to figure out his next move. A small smile crossed her face at the thought. If he only knew.

Zapata had panicked when Jane once again alluded to moving in with Patterson, and she went off in search of her as soon as their conversation came to a standstill. She found her on the bridge talking to some guy she vaguely recalled seeing her with several times lately. "Patterson, I need to talk to you. Now."

"O-kay," Patterson said with a laugh. "David, this is my friend, Tasha Zapata. You've heard me talk about her. Tasha, this is my boyfriend, David. He's the new head of the IT department for the ship."

"Nice to meet you," Zapata said, eyeing him with interest as she shook her hand. They would need to talk about the fact that Patterson had a boyfriend she had never mentioned to them, but for now . . . "How would you feel about moving into Patterson's cabin with her?"

"Tasha!" Patterson exclaimed, aghast. "You can't just order our lives around like that. Have you learned nothing from the mess you've made of Jane's love life?"

Zapata frowned at her. "I'm trying to fix it," she informed her. "But you need to do your part to help me out. She's about to ask you to let her move in with you, so you need a good reason not to do that. Ergo, David."

David chuckled. "Patterson was right. You are a force of nature." He smiled at his girlfriend. "Just for the record, I am not at all adverse to this plan."

Patterson blushed. Neither was she, to be honest, but they had only been seeing one another a couple months. "Don't you think that's . . . a little bit sudden?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm not asking you to make the arrangement permanent," Zapata said impatiently. They would need to vet David much more thoroughly before that happened. "Just for the rest of this cruise, so Jane doesn't have another excuse to avoid Weller. Look at it as a trial run for in case the two of you do decide to cohabit someday."

"Fine," Patterson said grudgingly. "But you owe me. And don't think I won't collect." There were limits to even her niceness. Even if she was grateful for the excuse to test the waters with David.

"Deal," Zapata agreed so cheerfully that Patterson made a mental note to consult Jane when this was all over with. Clearly Zapata didn't think she could come up with a punishment worthy of the crime—and she was probably right.

It was after four before she was able to track down Patterson, and Jane made a show of being disappointed at the news that she wouldn't be able to stay with her friend. In fact, she did such a good job of it that she worried for a moment that Patterson would cave, and she stormed off before she could.

Kurt was waiting for her when she arrived at the cabin, and she flung herself into his arms just as he reached out to pull her to him, the two of them laughing a bit as she collided into his chest with a soft oomph. "I take it this means you missed me," he teased as she pushed him onto the bed, pausing only long enough to strip off her blouse and skirt before following him down.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he promptly forgot what that was when she covered it with her own and slipped her tongue inside, and the only words between them for the next few minutes were whispered endearments and moans of pleasure. "Not that I'm complaining," Kurt said when he finally caught his breath, "but what was that all about?"

Jane shrugged a little as she shifted in his embrace and rested her head on his chest. "It's just been . . . a long day, and I felt like someone was . . . watching me off and on the entire time. Throughout this entire voyage, to be honest."

Kurt grinned at her. "Probably some poor sap who's so awed by your beauty that he's trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date. Too bad for him your heart's already taken." She barely cracked a smile, and he raised up on one elbow. "Jane? If you're really worried about this, I can have security—"

"No." Jane shook her head. "Trust me, if this person is good enough to escape my detection, security won't be able to spot them either." Come to think of it, Rich Dotcom wasn't nearly subtle enough to evade her eye either. It was not a comforting thought. She could see that Kurt was now worried as well, and she brought her hands up to frame his jaw, mustering a smile to reassure him. "Besides, if this person ever does come out of the shadows, I am much better equipped to defend myself than security, if need be. Shepherd had my brother and I trained by ex-Navy SEALs."

"Shepherd?" Kurt asked. "That was . . . your adoptive mother?"

"Yeah." Jane nodded. "If you can call what she did mothering." She had a feeling the majority of the civilized world would disagree with Shepherd's definition of it. Heck, uncivilized people were probably better to their children than Shepherd had been to them. "I was . . . I was born in South Africa. My parents were murdered by the government for being anti-apartheid activists, and my brother and I were sent to an orphanage that specialized in turning children into soldiers. Shepherd was in the area for an arms deal a couple years after we were sent there, and she bought us on a whim."

Kurt's voice hardened. "I'm guessing she didn't do that out of the goodness of her heart."

"No," Jane agreed. "She thought if she took us from there and raised us that we'd be so grateful to her that she would always have our unquestioning loyalty." And she had, for a long time. Far too long. Until her greed caused her to make a fatal error that came back to bite her in the ass. "The one good thing I can say about her is that she provided us with an excellent education."

"That's how you learned to speak all those languages," Kurt surmised, and she nodded again. He'd overheard her talking to various passengers in their native tongues in at least three different ones. "And your brother . . . Is he . . .?"

"He's dead, Kurt," Jane said, a world of grief in those three little words, and Kurt hugged her tight. "And it was my fault. I . . . I got him killed. He died saving my life."

Kurt felt tears fill his eyes as sobs shook her body. He ran his hands up and down her back as she cried, desperate to help her in any way he could but knowing that nothing could really soothe that kind of pain. He'd loved Taylor like a sister, and though he'd known she was likely dead for years, nothing could have prepared him for learning what had happened to her. There were still times he woke in the middle of the night, shaking just as Jane was now, still chilled by the horror of his father's confession.

And so, he did for Jane what he'd always wished he had someone to do for him: he held her tight as she mourned and reassured her that her brother wouldn't blame her for what had happened, that he had clearly loved her very much and wouldn't want her to be sad. He shed more than a few tears himself as he did so, and in comforting her, he felt the painful pieces of his own past begin to heal as well.

For the first time he could remember, he saw light at the end of that very dark tunnel.

Time ceased to exist, and neither of them had any idea how long they'd lain there before they realized they needed to get up and ready themselves for dinner.

Kurt's mind returned to what Jane had told him earlier as they dressed. "Do you think it could be someone from your mo—from Shepherd's former organization who's watching you?" he asked as they dressed. He refused to call that woman Jane's mother a moment longer, and he would break her of that habit as well. Her mother had been the brave woman who died taking a stand for right. Just as Jane herself had apparently done.

"No," Jane said slowly, shaking her head. "No, they're all dead, Kurt. The FBI took down my—Shepherd's organization two years ago, and the few members who didn't get killed in the firefight have all since died in prison. I would still be in witness protection otherwise."

"Well, I'm very glad you're not," Kurt told her tenderly as he leaned in for a quick kiss. "And that you survived."

"Me too," Jane assured him, and for the first time she meant it completely. There had been a part of her that had always felt guilty for being the one still standing, but that dark cloud had finally lifted, and in its place was pure . . . joy and a genuine excitement for the future.

She should have known the feeling wouldn't last.

Kurt went on to dinner ahead of her, in keeping with their ruse, and by the time she arrived, their entourage was gathered around the table. Rich and Boston were regulars, of course, as were Markos and Cade and Sarah now that she had arrived, but each night the crew also singled out a few passengers to join them. It appeared those guests tonight would be two men and a woman.

Jane's blood rushed in her ears as she approached the group, and they turned toward her. It couldn't be! Her smile felt frozen on her lips as Rich introduced the married couple, and she murmured a polite greeting, but she was hyper-aware of the other man the entire time. Rich announced his name, though no introduction was necessary to her.

He was Jonas Fischer.

Shepherd's right-hand man.