Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
A/N: I found myself with a lot more writing time than expected this weekend, and the inspiration just flowed… so much sooner than expected, here's the next chapter. I think the one after this one will be the last one, but all I know is there's definitely at least one more. Like I always say, Jane and Kurt are the ones who tell me what they want to do, so I can't be sure until I write it. Thank you so much to everyone who has left me such nice reviews on this story. It has been so much fun… and yes, I promise I'll soon be back to I See You. :)
Even though the voice they'd heard outside the door told them that they were no longer in danger, Jane tensed even more when the door began to open. At this point, it was some sort of involuntary reaction. Just like before, all they saw blinding light, and then shadows. This time, several shadows peeked in, guns raised to look into the corners of the room, and then they heard Zapata's voice – which was not the one they'd heard from outside the door, but an even more welcome one.
"Jane? Weller? Jesus, are you guys okay?" She sounded relieved and at the same time genuinely shocked, and they knew why. From looking in the mirror, they both knew that they looked like hell.
Having cleared the room, Zapata walked through the door, summoning the agent behind her – whose name the other two didn't immediately remember, since he was only part of their back up team – to bring a large flashlight to sweep the room for anything they could use. It was only after taking several steps that Zapata suddenly stopped, realizing what she was looking at… that Jane was sitting on Weller's lap, and that his arms were around her protectively.
Holstering her gun, Zapata folded her arms across her chest and grinned at them. About damn time, she thought. She didn't say it, knowing that the look on her face – if they were able to see anything through the glare after being trapped in the dark in here – would be enough. She wished fleetingly that Reade was there, knowing that despite his initial misgivings about Jane, he would ultimately have been as amused, and admittedly, happy to see this as she was. But her partner was still… working through things. She'd watched the video with him and knew that it was going to be a while before he was okay.
Zapata's smile faltered slightly, but rebounded as she focused on the two in front of her. She had to believe that Reade would be okay, but Jane and Weller… well, it looked like they were closer to okay than they'd ever been, despite the horrific circumstances in which they'd found themselves. She wondered if Weller would kill her if she wrote in her report exactly how she'd found them… or if she should maybe leave that tiny bit out.
When Jane began to focus on Zapata, right around the time that Zapata was grinning at them knowingly, that was when Kurt finally felt her begin to relax for the first time. Slowly, her head fell down against his shoulder, and he felt her almost go limp with relief. She'd been sitting – or standing – rigidly for how many hours now? He had no idea. To witness her seem to wilt completely was both a relief, since it meant she could finally relax, but also worrisome. It wasn't like Jane. She was always so strong.
After grinning gratefully in Zapata's direction, still not quite able to focus on her, Kurt shifted his attention back to Jane. Though it may have seemed to someone else that she was simply weak with relief, something told him to be concerned – and his instincts when it came to Jane were usually right. Lowering his face near her ear, but careful not to press against the alarmingly swollen skin on the right side of her face, he whispered, "Are you okay?"
She took several shaky breaths, appearing to try to compose herself but not quite getting there, before she finally answered. "I don't think so," was her reply, and yet again, he felt an ache in his chest. Never mind what had been done to him. It paled in comparison to how this had affected her. After all, it was compounded on top of the trauma of her torture at the black site, on top of everything else that had happened in her past, so that even though relatively speaking this hadn't been the worst thing that had ever been done to them, for Jane it had been far worse than for Kurt.
Zapata's amusement had changed to concern by now, and she walked forward slowly towards them. "Is she okay?" she asked Kurt worriedly, looking at Jane just as Kurt looked back up.
"Being trapped in here was a little too reminiscent of the black site for her," Kurt said quietly, shifting slowly and carefully so that he could stand up. "She's injured, but I need to at least take her outside. She needs to be… out of this room. Now."
She nodded, having no intention of arguing with her boss when it came to Jane's well-being. There was no universe in which that would have been a good idea. Placing an awkward hand on his shoulder for a second, she said, "I'm glad you guys are okay, Weller." For a second, he stopped moving and looked up at her. "We were really worried," she added.
Kurt nodded seriously. "I was, too," he replied. "Thanks for the rescue."
Zapata stepped back, seemingly just remembering something that she just wanted to forget. "Oh, about that," she began slowly. "We had some help, and… well, let's just say that you have a, uh, friend who's going to be insufferable for a very long time."
Shifting slowly so that he could stand up without having to put Jane down, which meant pushing up without the luxury of bracing his hands against the ground, the sore muscles in Kurt's legs protested, but ultimately cooperated. Finally on his feet, holding Jane with one arm behind her knees, and the other around her back, her face burrowed into his neck, he looked at Zapata in confusion.
"What friend?" he asked, momentarily forgetting that he'd already heard said friend's voice through the door.
Rolling her eyes, Zapata just shook her head, starting towards the door. "Oh, you'll see. Just wait," she replied as she looked back over her shoulder at him. Personally, she'd already had more than enough of this particular person for the next year or so… though sadly, he never seemed to be able to stay away more than a few months, at most.
Kurt followed Zapata through the door, into the entryway outside the room they'd been imprisoned inside. The entry was crowded with agents milling around, radios crackling. It was the normal chaos that accompanied a scene when they were called in as reinforcements… except for the man who bounded over to them as soon as they cleared the door of the dark cell before anyone could stop him.
"Stubbles! Janie! I was so worried!" Rich Dotcom cried, looking as if he was going to throw his arms around both of them, but then stopping just short of doing so when he saw the look on Kurt's face.
With a sigh, Kurt now understood what Zapata had been talking about. Really, he was too tired to deal with Rich, and his only concern just then was Jane. "Hi, Rich. What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.
"Well, you know, I sort of… helped rescue you!" Rich said triumphantly, ignoring Kurt's lack of a smile in his direction. When Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, he elaborated. "I have a friend who knew someone who had a friend who'd worked with those guys you were, uh, pretending to work with today," Rich added, using exaggerated air quotes to give the last words more emphasis, winking at him comically. "So when I heard that you guys had dropped off the radar, I made a few calls and…" Once again, he looked like he was going to burst with excitement. "Here we are!"
With a sigh, Kurt silently agreed with Zapata. After this, Rich really was going to be insufferable. "Well, thank you," he told him seriously, looking back down at Jane, whose eyes were closed as she leaned against him. She looked like she could have been asleep, but he had a feeling that she wasn't.
"Is she okay?" Rich asked, his voice changing from excited to dramatic concern in less than a second.
"She will be," Kurt replied, determination in his voice, without looking back up at Rich. "But we need to get her checked out as soon as the EMTs get here."
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the crowd as several agents nearby appeared to be pushed out of the way to reveal Patterson cutting through the crowd. "Weller! Jane! Oh, thank God!" she cried, running up to them and, unlike Rich, not stopping herself from throwing her arms around them both together. Kurt didn't mind Patterson's hug the way he would have minded Rich's, however, and when she stepped back to stare at them appraisingly a few seconds later, he was smiling at her. Rich looked less than pleased to have been overshadowed, but he knew and liked Patterson, so he stepped back and observed the scene unfolding before him.
"Patterson, what are you doing here?" he asked in surprise.
"I was set up out in the van," she replied, staring worriedly at Jane. "With Reade out and you guys missing, we thought that just in case they needed back up… I mean, the other agents are good and everything, but…"
"You were worried and wanted to be on site?" he asked her gently, at which she blushed. He couldn't help but smile at her. It was so very Patterson.
"I'm so glad you guys are okay," she told him, her eyes watering slightly.
"Thanks," he told her sincerely. "I'm pretty relieved, myself," he added, cracking a smile.
Zapata walked up to him then. "Weller, the paramedics are here. You guys need to get checked out. Especially Jane," she said sternly, her eyes darting towards Rich, who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"No arguments here," he said. Rich's voice faded into the crowd behind Kurt as he and Jane, along with Patterson and Zapata, threaded their way carefully through the crush of agents in the entryway of what appeared to him to be a small, one story office building of some kind towards the door. He was careful not to bump Jane's legs against anyone, and he stopped as Patterson opened the glass door for them so that they could exit into the cool evening air. It occurred to Kurt that he didn't really know how long they'd been in there, since it had been dark the whole time, and they'd woken up in there, but at that moment it wasn't the most important thing.
One of the EMTs walked up to him, looking at Jane with concern. "Agent Weller? Come on over here and let's have a look at the two of you," the young man told him. Kurt would normally have tried to insist that he was fine, that he didn't need their attention, but as long as they were going to be treating Jane there was no way he was going anywhere, so he decided that he may as well be cooperative.
As he sat there and the EMTs examined and treated their injuries, his eyes remained locked on Jane. Her replies to them were absolutely minimal, sometimes non-existent, and Kurt couldn't help but think that the EMTs looked unusually serious as they checked her out. They're just being professional, he tried to reassure himself, but he worried that they looked worried as they looked at her. Of course, it could have just been the fact that he was worried… because he was.
In the end, by the time the EMTs were done with them, the crowd of agents at the scene had largely dispersed. Most of the group that Jane and Kurt had infiltrated had been either killed or arrested, with two of them having escaped and then caught within the hour. So despite the dreadful way the op had ended, it hadn't been all for nothing. That would just have to be the silver lining this time… well, along with the other, more personal one.
Both Jane and Kurt had been ordered by the EMTs to report for follow up examination by a doctor, and to rest for "at least a few days," and Jane's ankle – which wasn't broken, but badly sprained – had been wrapped tightly, her temple cleaned up and bandaged. Thankfully, her other injuries not being as serious as Kurt had feared, but she was going to be sore for quite a while, as was he. Of course, if it had only been Kurt who'd received these instructions, he would have ignored them and been at work early the next morning. But because Jane was involved, he had every intention of keeping her close and making sure that she rested, that she didn't try to overdo anything. It was a double standard, he knew, but he didn't care.
Zapata and Patterson had waited around for them, and when they were finally released by the EMTs, the two offered to drive them home. Jane was sitting beside Kurt along the back of the ambulance, his hand covering hers on the small space on the small space of the metal step between them. It was as though just then, he had to have at least that much contact with her to prove to himself that she was actually there beside him.
She'd been listening but not participating in any conversation since Kurt had carried her out of that dark room, and at the mention of going home he felt her stiffen. Pulling his fingers around hers gently, so that he was actually holding her hand, and not just covering hers with his, he turned towards her. She was now looking down at the ground, her breathing already slightly faster than it had been a minute before. He leaned down closer to her, so that his nose touched the side of her head. "Your place or mine?" he asked her, which made her turn slowly and look at him, shyly, in surprise. He realized then that it was the first time she'd looked at him in the eyes since before they'd been trapped together in the dark, a fact that he stored for later, wondering if she'd been avoiding looking at him since they'd been rescued.
She could admit, though only to herself, that the thought of going home wasn't appealing whatsoever just then, which was the reason she'd tensed up at the suggestion. Yes, Roman would be there, which normally made her happy. However, just then the thought of going to her place and Kurt going to his, separately… she didn't even try to identify why it made her feel so panicked, she only knew that it did. A second later, however, Kurt's hand was squeezing hers gently, and he was leaning his face against her, asking "You're place or mine?" Looking up at him shyly, in surprise, all she could do after looking into his eyes for a few seconds was look back down and shrug.
"Fine, mine then," he told her gently, before turning back to Zapata and Patterson, who had, of course, been watching the exchange with matching smiles on their faces.
"Thanks," he said, smiling tiredly. "You can drop us both off at my place." Some other time, having them know that he was going to take her home with him so that he could take care of her would probably have made him uncomfortable. But at this point, he realized, there was really no point in being self-conscious. After all, he supposed, they'd known how he felt longer than he had. Besides, he didn't think he needed to explain to these two women, who were closer to him than his own sister, that Jane needed to be taken care of, or that he needed to be the one to do it.
Neither of the other two said a word, they just smiled knowingly as the four of them walked towards the SUV that Zapata had driven to get there, which was now one of the last vehicles left on the scene. She and Patterson walked to the car ahead of the other two, giving them space. Jane was on crutches, moving slowly and determinedly, Kurt walking slowly beside her, watching her unsteady progress and ready to catch her if that became necessary. It didn't, however, and ultimately they all made it to the car.
Kurt opened the door for Jane, taking her crutches from her and holding them until she was securely inside, then closed the door and stowed the crutches in the trunk, walking around to the other side of the car. In the back seat behind Zapata, who was driving, he moved over towards the middle so that he could sit closer to her, buckling himself in as the two women in the front seat glanced over their shoulders at him knowingly, still saying nothing.
Jane felt Kurt beside her, and felt conflicted. She wanted to lean against him, wanted the comfort of his touch… but at the same time, now that they were out in the light of day, she was starting to feel… what? It wasn't that she didn't like this. On the contrary. She liked it a lot. Too much, maybe.
After all, she'd lost him once before, completely and totally. The memory of that feeling suddenly overtook her, covering her like a heavy blanket, until she felt it choking her. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on breathing in and out. She knew in the back of her mind that the way she was feeling wasn't normal for her. Normally she was able to block it all out. She didn't normally have these intense feelings of panic, and yet she'd had almost nothing else that day… or so it felt like to her. Of course, it hadn't been any kind of a normal day, but she chose to ignore that part.
But what you usually do isn't healthy, the voice in her head told her. Blocking it out isn't healthy. The memory of the black site triggered all this, and now you're just overwhelmed. Physically numb and yet emotionally overwhelmed.
She knew it, and yet, knowing it didn't help. Again, she tried to focus on breathing in and out, and on nothing else. Feeling Kurt beside her made her feel simultaneously better and worse at the same time. Blissfully happy and yet… terrified.
Because what if all this was all just because they'd been stuck in the dark together? What if he'd just wanted to distract her, to calm her down? What if he didn't really feel the same way about her?
Or… what if he did?
She couldn't decide which of the many questions in her mind scared her the most.
Breathe in and out, she ordered herself.
Kurt was getting worried about Jane. Her breathing was too fast, and shallow, and somehow she managed to seem relaxed and tense at the same time. Something was wrong, that was all he knew for sure, but this wasn't the place to try to talk to her about it.
The drive back from the outskirts of the city, where they'd ended up being held, back to Kurt's building, felt like it took forever. He knew that not that much time had elapsed, but that his impatience was making it feel longer. Finally they made it, however, and he thanked Patterson and Zapata for their help, and for finding a diversion for Rich long enough for them to get away – he still didn't know what exactly they'd sent him off to do, only that there'd been no sign of him when they'd left the scene.
Kurt moved away from Jane, towards the door on the opposite side. By the time he'd walked around the car, she was already out, closing her door and standing by the car, one hand on the side to help her balance.
She'd momentarily forgotten that she couldn't walk on her ankle, and she only stopped just before she tried to do just that, which would have resulted in her falling on her face. Thankfully, when she'd looked down at her ankle, as she climbed out of the car, she'd remembered that she needed to wait for Kurt. Sighing heavily, she leaned against the car and waited for help, feeling worse and worse as she stared down at the ground. It was only a few seconds before he was beside her, holding her crutches, but it had already felt like ages.
He couldn't help but think that she looked exhausted. Based on how she'd been acting, it was hard to know if she'd want to use the crutches and walk on her own or lean on him. So as he stood by the passenger side window to say good bye and thank you to Patterson and Zapata, who were watching all of his carefully, he held the crutches between them, close enough that she could take them if she wanted to, but not making it look like he was insisting. She didn't move, and he took that as her decision.
Patterson looked from Jane to Kurt worriedly. Kurt saw this and smiled at her, nodding slightly. "Don't worry, I'll figure it out," he told them. The other two smiled knowingly. If anyone could help Jane, it was Kurt. He'd always been the one who had the best chance of getting through to her, after all.
"Oh, Weller, here you go," Patterson said, leaning her arm out the window with a key in her hand. "Your spare key. One of us will come by later with your car and your regular keys… the stuff you left in your locker yesterday." Before the ill-fated op had begun, in other words. "Since you're staying home for a few days…" Patterson reminded him. They were curious to see if he would actually stay home, knowing what a workaholic he was. However, this time there was no stubbornness in his face.
"Thanks, again," he said tiredly, taking the key. Exhaustion was finally hitting him as the adrenaline of the whole thing drained out of him, and he imagined that Jane must be feeling the same, but magnified significantly. In this instance, it paid to be the Assistant Director. Yes, he'd have to write a report, but he was going to do it from home.
"For everything," he added, looking from one of them to the other. It went without saying that they may have saved his life, and Jane's. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, and he and Jane had done the same for the others more than once as well. That was just part of being a team. Smiling at them once more, they waved and then rolled up the window as he turned towards Jane.
Looking over at her, he saw that she was still looking at the ground. He took a slow step toward her, feeling a strange energy coming from her that hadn't been there earlier. Standing on her left, he slowly slipped his right arm around her waist to hold her up, feeling her lean against him slowly. Only a few seconds later, her arm came up around his back as well, again almost reluctantly. He held the crutches in his left hand, and started slowly toward his building as Zapata and Patterson watched them go.
Patterson sighed loudly, shaking her head. "Those two…" she murmured.
"As messed up as it is, this may have been what they needed," Zapata said, shifting the car into gear.
"I hope so," replied Patterson distractedly, still watching them as the car pulled back into traffic. "There's no one who deserves it more."
Zapata rolled her eyes at her friend's hopeless romanticism, but she didn't go so far as to disagree with her. If things could work out for those two, then good for them… but they certainly had a lot to deal with in order for that to happen. Only time would tell.
Slowly and carefully, they made their way inside and to the elevator. Jane couldn't help but think about so many other times that she'd been there before… And yet, it felt different this time than any of the others – and not just because of her injury.
It is different, she told herself.
Is it? Is it really? she wondered. How can you know?
Kurt leaned forward to press the button, and the doors of the elevator closed. In seconds, he had leaned back against Jane, then down to gently kiss her on the top of her head, letting his face rest in her hair, inhaling the scent and simply appreciating the fact that they were both alive. As far as Jane was concerned, it seemed like a pretty perfectly timed sign if ever there had been one.
That's how, the voice in her head said triumphantly. You can't tell me you doubt that, do you?
I don't know what I think, she replied tiredly in her head. All she knew was that she wanted to believe it… and that she was so very tired.
He wanted to try to convince her to talk about whatever was wrong, but the elevator wasn't the right place, so he stayed quiet and waited. They were almost back to his apartment, after all. Even so, he reminded himself, if she didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to force her – no matter how much he wanted her to talk to him.
His face remained leaned against her hair until the elevator dinged, and he looked up reluctantly as the doors opened. "Almost there," he murmured, despite the fact that she hadn't said a word in quite a while. It didn't matter. After what she'd been through, he didn't need her to tell him that he was not okay. He knew.
After what seemed like the longest walk down the hallway to his apartment door ever, they finally made it inside. He dropped the spare key on the kitchen counter as they walked past it slowly, as he steered her straight to the couch at the far end of the room. She leaned down and braced herself with her hands, lowering herself onto the couch and then looking relieved when she leaned back into the cushions. She'd forgotten how comfortable his couch was. It had been a while since she'd been there.
Once Jane was settled on the couch, he leaned her crutches against the wall nearby, out of the way but where she could get to them relatively easily if she needed to. Without a word, he sat down beside her, turned sideways to face her even though she was staring across the room, seeming unwilling to meet his eyes.
Watching her carefully, he felt time stretching out between them and wasn't sure how long he would be able to convince himself to wait.
Who am I kidding? he asked himself. He knew better than to think he could sit there and watch her suffer.
He was sitting on her right, and he picked up her right hand, holding it between both of his. His left hand sat underneath her palm, and the fingers on his right hand traced the ink lines on the back of her hand gently, hoping that it would be soothing. He watched as she closed her eyes, almost seeming to wince as though she was in pain.
"I'm not going away, if that's what you think," he said quietly. "Being back here and safe doesn't change anything." He watched as she tensed noticeably, trying to pull away and yet at the same time, appearing that she was fighting the feeling within herself, and wondered if he'd really been right. Of course, that wouldn't be the only problem, but if that was even part of it…
How could she even think that? he wondered.
Because it's happened before, the voice in his head replied simply. She needed you, and you pushed her as far away as humanly possible. He felt that pain in his chest again, the one that he got when he thought about how badly it had all gone wrong with Jane in the past. He looked down at his fingers, tracing paths on the back of her hand, and then back up at her. Leaning forward, he pressed his elbows into the couch between them, bringing her hand up to his face. After kissing the back of her hand gently, he pressed it against his cheek, his hand on top of hers, just watching her.
"Jane…" he said quietly, not knowing what else to say. He shook his head, feeling defeated by it all.
She was surprised at the pain she heard in his voice, and she decided to open her eyes. Looking back at him, which she'd been avoiding doing for quite some time, she was surprised at the sincerity she saw there, and at the same time, an exhaustion that seemed to match how she felt, as well. Not trusting herself to answer, she just nodded.
And then before she even realized it, the words were tumbling out. "You don't have to, you know," she said before he could decide how to reply.
"Don't have to what?" he asked, genuinely confused. But it was starting to make sense to him, the way she was acting and what he knew about her slowly coming together. "Wait, you think… You think I regret something between us? You mean what happened… back there today?"
It suddenly all made sense. "I told you that I would never…" he hesitated, but knew that he needed to be direct. "I would never kiss you just to distract you… And I meant it, okay?" He saw her look away, and he stared at her in bewilderment.
She really thought that?
Apparently so… at least on some level. Or she was afraid that that's what it was.
"The only thing I regret, is that I let so many things come between us for so long," he said insistently, staring at her, willing her to look at him. "I regret that our third kiss didn't happen a long time ago. But I'm glad it finally did."
Waiting for her reaction was agony, and he still wasn't 100% sure that that was what she was thinking, but he forced himself to stop and just watch her, waiting for her reaction. It took a few minutes, but when she finally did look back up at him, it was as if she was searching for something in his face.
The thing she noticed most when she looked up was that he looked so worried. Hesitantly at first, but then less so as she moved, she turned to face him, biting her lip nervously.
How could you possibly be worried about this, with Kurt of all people? she asked herself. Of course, at the same time she knew that to a certain extent, it was precisely because it was Kurt that was the reason she was so worried. There was simply so much between them, after all, both the good and the… complicated. Or maybe it was all complicated, even the good. She didn't even know anymore.
Sitting there facing him, unable to look away now that she'd finally forced herself to look at him, she honestly didn't know what to do next. She'd been operating mainly on intuition for as long as she'd been Jane, but suddenly even that had deserted her. She didn't trust herself to know what to do this time.
His words were sweet, and she felt her chest ache in confusion. Somehow she was feeling everything at once, not knowing how to separate one feeling from another, which only magnified each of them. And then just like that, she felt herself leaning forward as if something was pulling her toward him, not stopping until her forehead rested on his right shoulder. His arm immediately wrapped around her left side, and a few seconds later she felt his other hand let go of her hand, which he'd been holding against his cheek, so that both of his arms could wrap around her.
He was surprised when her hand remained on his cheek even though he was no longer holding it there. It had been his expectation that her hand would have fallen back down almost as quickly as his had let go. When it didn't, however, he felt hopeful. Maybe he was getting through to her.
"Are you sure?" she asked. She sounded small and worried, not at all like what he'd expect from such a fearless woman as the Jane he knew.
The words popped into his head effortlessly, and he decided not to censor them. After all, he decided, he may as well let them redeem themselves.
"More than anything," he said near her ear. He felt her reaction instantly. It was something between a shudder and a nervous laugh, and his right hand moved steadily but gently up to the top of her back, up her neck and into her hair, rubbing small circles against her scalp. Then, sounding amused with himself, he added, "Ironically, I just couldn't see just how obvious it all should have been to me all along until we were trapped in absolute darkness," he told her. She had to sit back then, because as hard as she was trying to process what he was saying, she was having trouble letting the words sink in.
Her fingers, still fanning back and forth on his cheek, seemed to be soothing both of them. It was only then that she glanced at them, realizing that she'd held them there all on her own. He smiled and leaned against her hand, turning his head just enough to kiss her palm right in the center, before turning back to look at her, that smile that he had only ever had for her filling his face.
And then, as if to prove that what he'd just said was true, that it hadn't just been about being in the dark or about distracting her from her demons, he leaned forward the short distance between them, stopping suddenly just before he kissed her.
Not wanting there to be any mistake about why he was doing what he was doing, he smiled, and then said, "To be clear, I do not want to distract you from anything, and I'm not trying to convince you of anything… except possibly of how much I love you." If he wasn't so close, he would have seen her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he had a feeling he knew what the look on her face was even though he couldn't see it from his angle.
Without waiting for her to answer, he moved as slowly as he could, leaning toward her. Maybe the eye contact had been what was missing last time, because it felt different, and even better than it had last time, in the dark. Granted, it also probably helped that their lives weren't in danger as well. When he kissed her that time, it almost felt to him like he was moving in slow motion – not that that was a problem, because he was perfectly happy with making that moment last longer. The longer the better, as far as he was concerned.
She swore that this time, his lips felt even softer than they had before. He was trying to prove a point, she knew, and at that moment, as he kissed her again, she wondered how she could have doubted his sincerity in the first place.
I should have known… she thought as her mind ceased to be able to function properly.
He leaned back from her, finally, opening his eyes to look worriedly into hers once again. But hers were still closed, he noticed first. The other thing he noticed was a smile on her face, however, and when her eyes did finally blink open, slowly, she suddenly looked more like the Jane he knew. Exhausted, yes, but more like herself and less… haunted, for lack of a better word.
"Okay," she whispered, and the next thing he noticed was that she was no longer tense, no longer seeming to lean both towards him and away from him at the same time. Her thumb swiped across the scruff on his cheek once again before her hand slowly fell back down, so that she could shift her weight to lean into him. While he missed her hand's warmth on his cheek, the light coming back into her eyes was worth it.
Reaching for the pillow at the end of the couch, she laid it down flat and then scooted slightly towards it, turning so that she could lay her head down onto it slowly. Her legs were still angled awkwardly towards the floor, and without giving it a second thought he reached under her knees just like he'd done earlier when he'd picked her up, pulled them up onto the couch as he lifted his own legs out of the way onto the couch at the same angle. He shifted himself as well, so that he way lying behind her on his left side, his head propped up on his elbow so that he could look down at her, lying in front of him. As he shifted that way, she leaned back against his chest without a word.
Her head turned back to look at him then, an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm a little tired."
"This is probably the last thing you should ever be sorry for," he said with a smile, pushing her hair back from her face and then running the back of his finger along her cheek slowly. "I'm certainly not." She smiled back up at him happily, blushing just a little. "We can go lay down in the other room, if you want…" he said hesitantly. He had no desire to move just then, though objectively he knew that the bed would probably be more comfortable for both of them. At the same time, he was very conscious of saying 'the other room' and not 'the bedroom,' because… well… he didn't want anything to spoil that moment, including accidentally making things awkward.
But she shook her head, smiling up at him. "This is perfect," she said, leaning back and closing her eyes. He knew that they both needed a shower, and that brushing their teeth was probably a good idea, but decided that even those basic things could wait. After all, what better way to celebrate that they were alive than this?
He lowered his head onto the pillow, directly behind hers, leaning his forehead into her hair. His right arm reached over her hesitantly, wanting to hold onto her to keep her close, and in seconds her hand had found his, her fingers threaded through the spaces between his perfectly, as if they'd been made to fit there. She sighed happily, and he couldn't help but chuckle.
"What's so funny?" she asked him, turning her head slightly in his direction, not succeeding in turning far enough to see him, only in pressing her hair further into his face. He chuckled again, kissing the back of her head.
"Nothing's funny," he said. "I'm just… happy. Happier than I can remember ever being before."
"Me, too," she grinned. But then her voice changed as she thought about what he'd said. "Not that that means much coming from me, of course, because…" She shrugged, knowing that she didn't need to finish her sentence. Because I don't remember that much. Whereas not long ago she would have avoided his eyes then, suddenly it felt important to her to do just the opposite. She turned far enough onto her back that she could look at him, leaning back on the pillow and staring up at him, feeling strangely as though she was falling, even though she was lying still on the couch. As she watched, his expression change to concern.
"That's where you're wrong," he said sincerely. "You being happy means everything." As she looked up at him in confusion, he couldn't help but smile.
How could she be so smart, so good at everything, and yet still not understand?
"Everything… To me," he added, seeing that she still looked confused.
It wasn't the way she'd meant it when she'd implied that coming from her, being happier than ever before didn't mean much, and he knew it… but he didn't care. He also didn't care that his reply had sounded cheesy. It was the truth. He'd spent a lot of time – far too much – not even admitting these things to himself, must less to her, and that needed to change. If he wanted her to stop doubting this – whatever it was between them – then he needed to give her reasons not to second guess it… any of it.
She shifted all the way onto her back then, slowly reaching both of her hands up onto his cheeks, the way she had back when they'd been stuck in the dark. Her thumbs fanned across his cheeks the same way, and then, to his surprise, he watched as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The smile on her face was still there though, and he couldn't help but think he felt her relaxing simply from that contact. He knew that he was feeling better. Without giving it another thought, he leaned down slowly towards her, feeling like he was being pulled by a magnetic force – or was it Jane that was pulling him? He honestly didn't know which of them it was, or whether it was an outside force, that was pulling him in to kiss her again. Her hands didn't leave his cheeks the whole time. If anything, they held him in place.
When he finally leaned back, reluctantly, her hands finally fell from his cheeks again as well, and she opened her eyes to smile at him. There was wonder on his face that she didn't think she'd ever seen there before. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he shrugged.
"What were you saying before? About something being the last thing I should be sorry for? That goes for you, too," she said quietly. "I'm not sorry that you keep kissing me. Quite the opposite, actually." Her eyelids were trying to close, but she was fighting it valiantly.
He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You're tired," he said tenderly. "Go to sleep now. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
"No," she said, looking frustrated, "I don't…"
"I know you don't want to," he said, running his hand over her hair. "And I wish I could stop you from having nightmares." She smiled at him weakly, her eyelids drooping. "But you need to sleep, and I'm going to be right here. Okay?" he asked insistently.
She sighed tiredly. "Okay," she replied simply, turning back onto her side, and leaning against him. His arm tightened around her slightly, careful to pull too tight, since they were both bruised from the ordeal of the past few days. This feeling of closeness was a sensation that she wasn't sure she would ever get enough of, and certainly not anytime soon. In less than a minute, she felt herself give in to sleep, her last thought being that surely, she must be dreaming. She'd had this kind of dream before, long ago, and she could only hope that she wasn't going to wake up to find that it had been just that – a dream – like she used to.
As tired as he also was, Kurt had thought he'd fall asleep right away. Somehow, however, he ended up lying awake there behind Jane, his brain too full to let him sleep. It wasn't too long after she fell asleep, he didn't think, before she stiffened, beginning to twitch in agitation, though she wasn't actually awake. Picking his head up, he spoke directly in her ear. "Jane," he whispered, "Jane, you're safe. It's okay." He squeezed her hand tightly, pulling her closer to him. After that she seemed to relax again, and he decided that whatever was happening in her dream had stopped happening, at least for now.
Just a little bit of light from the streetlights outside came in from the window over his shoulder, and he looked at the back of her neck just in front of him, leaning forward to kiss the very top point of the oil derrick tattoo that stuck out above the neckline of her shirt. He finally felt himself getting tired, and he leaned his forehead against the back of her head again.
I will never get tired of his, he thought, just before he fell asleep.