Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)

She let herself lie there, her head on his shoulder, just focusing on breathing in and out in rhythm with him. The relief she felt to be there beside him, after so many days and nights of telling herself that she was never going to see him again, was so immense and so overpowering that she honestly couldn't have explained how she'd left him in the first place. Right now she didn't even want to imagine moving an inch.

Of course, there had been so much more to it than that – why she'd left. At that moment, however, everything seemed unimportant except the fact that she was leaning against him, inhaling his scent, and that he was holding onto her. No, leaving him behind was something that she knew then that she'd never be able to do again. Not only that, but she was pretty sure that she'd never be able to make it up to him after doing it once. All she kept thinking to herself was that if she were him, she never could have forgiven her, and it made her chest ache. Why did it seem like when she was faced with an important decision, she only ever made the wrong one? All she'd ever wanted was to protect him, and she seemed to just keep doing it wrong.

And yet, he followed you around the world and showed up here, the voice in her head observed. So you couldn't have done everything wrong.

His left arm had loosened from around her back and his hand moved to curl between them, his fingers interlacing themselves with those of her right hand. Unsure whether she did it on purpose or not, somehow her fingertips found and began fidgeting with the ring on his fourth finger.

The ring he was still wearing after all this time. After she had left him and disappeared from the life they'd had together. The life where she'd been deliriously happy…

Her breath caught in her chest for a second and she felt herself flinch inside at the thought of everything she'd given up, that she'd thrown away. She moved her fingertips around and around the smooth metal of his ring, as if seeking comfort from it. If she was lucky, maybe the prickly sensation she felt in her eyes wasn't really impending tears… but she knew that realistically, she was probably about to cry again. Really, at this point, what was the difference?

Drawing himself back slightly to look down at her, he watched as she avoided meeting his eyes, hiding behind hair that had conveniently fallen in her face. Shifting slightly so that he could use his right arm, on which he'd been leaning, he brushed the hair out of her face with his right hand, then let his hand settle on the top of her head, holding her hair back so that he could look into her eyes. However, she didn't look up, but instead stared at his ring as she continued to fidget with it, guilt written all over her face.

For a minute, he just watched her, wondering whether he should say what he was thinking. In the end, he decided that if he wasn't going to, then there was no point in having come here. "I kept it on because… I couldn't give up on you. Not even when the others gave me that look… the one where it had been weeks, months, with no leads… like they pitied me… like they expected me to give up." He brushed his fingertips with hers against the smooth metal of his ring, the sensation giving him chills. "I have it… yours," he told her, adding the last word hesitantly.

Slowly, she finally looked up at him and saw that he looked just as vulnerable as she felt. His left hand reluctantly disengaged from her right as he reached into his left pocket.

"Wait, you have it… with you?" she asked in surprise, then watched as he pulled out a tiny ring box. Her mouth dropped even farther open when she saw what he was doing. "You carried it in your pocket? From New York?" She was dumbfounded, to put it mildly, and really didn't know what else to say.

Smiling slightly, a hint of sadness in his eyes, he shrugged. "I wanted to be able to reassure myself that it was there," he told her quietly, glancing down at the box, then slowly back up at her. At various stages of the trip, the box containing the ring had been like a talisman, something that he had to touch every once in a while to reassure himself that he was really doing what he thought he was doing, reminding him of what was at stake, and that what they had had was real, and not something that he had simply imagined.

"Does that mean…?" She stopped, unable to continue. If she asked whether he was willing to give it back to her and he said no… she didn't think she could stand it.

But he brought it all the way from New York. In his pocket. He's not going to refuse to give it back to you now, the voice in her head reassured her.

Still, she couldn't be sure until she had confirmation. Even though it made perfect sense to her, everything seemed to carry more weight than usual between them right now. Her emotions were so highly charged, even such a seemingly simple thing made her so nervous it was hard to breathe normally.

There's nothing about this that's simple, she told herself, swallowing hard.

He's your husband, and he followed your across the world – that part is simple, the voice in her head told her sternly. If that's not love, then explain to me what it is.

I don't… She started to protest, but she realized that she was only doing it because she was scared. With a sigh, all she could think was, I hope you're right about that.

At the same time, he was wondering if he should ask her if she wanted her ring back, but he was terrified that she would say no. Not because she looked like she would, because from the look on her face, they understood each other perfectly. But then again, he'd thought that before she'd left, too. He would never in a million years have thought that she would have left him, not for any reason. He'd thought that they'd been happy… This doubt colored everything now, and everything that he'd once been sure of seemed to suddenly be in question. He was trying to reconcile her leaving in his head, but it just felt… impossible.

This is not the same as her leaving, and you know it, he told himself. He did, of course, and yet… He didn't know anything for sure anymore.

No, he couldn't bring himself to ask her if she wanted her ring back, so he simply flipped open the box and took the ring out between his fingers. All he could do was hope that they weren't shaking too obviously as he attempted to hold it steady. He glanced from her face back to the ring, then up at her again to see her bite her lip. It appeared that she was trying to catch her breath, and for a second he nervously held his as well, not even noticing it.

Unable to bring herself to say anything, she simply raised her left hand slowly until it was close to where he had clasped the ring between his fingers. She was trying to keep her hand from shaking, but she wasn't doing a very good job, and she wondered if he could see it. Their eyes met then, both of them watching the other nervously for a few seconds before she smiled at him sadly, feeling the muscles in her face begin to contract slowly as she fought off the tears that she knew were coming. Why did every single tiny little part of this have to be so hard?

"Hey," he whispered, beginning to panic when he saw the expression on her face. After all, he knew from experience that this was the look that came right before she started crying. "Jane… don't. Please…" His voice broke on the last word, and he paused only for a second before adding, "You know how much I hate to see you cry." Then, without any further hesitation, he slipped the ring back onto her finger. "It's okay," he added in a whisper so quiet, she wouldn't have heard him if they hadn't been only inches apart.

When the ring was back in place on her finger, she was surprised when he held onto her hand gently instead of letting go, and she momentarily forgot that she'd been about to cry. Just like it sometimes had in the past, his thumb pressed into the middle of her palm and moved ever so slightly, the other four fingers sitting so that they just barely touched the skin on the back of her hand. The gesture was even more soothing than it had been before, the familiarity of it giving her chills. The tip of his ring finger moved back and forth over the smooth metal of her ring, just as her finger had done on his ring only minutes before.

Feeling a surge of both joy and heartache at the same time, she bit her lip in an attempt to hold in the emotions that couldn't be contained, forcing her face into a smile even as she felt herself on the verge of falling apart.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered again, and Jane nodded quickly, her smile increasing in brightness to compensate for the feeling that she had that she was falling towards an abyss, as stray tears leaked from her eyes. She swatted at them with her free hand, but didn't really succeed at clearing them off of her face, and gave up.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she nodded again, more slowly this time. "Yeah," she exhaled quietly, shifting her hand so that she could curl her fingers around his thumb. She wouldn't feel right until she could explain to him what had happened, but once again, the words were lodged in her chest. Her stress level began to rise again just thinking about all the things she needed to say to him. However, she looked up into his eyes then, and found him looking back at her with so much emotion, so much love, that she couldn't help but relax again as everything else but that moment melted away.

"We should get up, I guess," she said reluctantly, not wanting to break either eye contact or physical contact with him, much less move far enough away from him as would be required to be able to stand up. But it was the only way to get back, she knew, and they needed to go back. Besides, all she really wanted, she now had once again, she reminded herself – namely, him. Now it was time to go back and save their friends.

"Yeah, we should," he agreed. "Is there anything you need to do before we go?" he asked her.

"There's one thing I want to show you," she replied quietly. "It's not far."

"Okay," he agreed, tugging her hand toward him so that he could kiss the back of it gently. "I missed you, Jane."

Despite the fact that she'd felt steadier until that moment, a sob escaped her unexpectedly then, as she felt her chest tighten and tears threatened to fall yet again. Once again, the enormity of what she had done washed over her and her eyes closed, as if she could somehow block it out.

"Hey, Jane," he said quickly, watching the effect that his words had had on her, "I didn't say that to make you feel cry, or to make you feel guilty." He leaned his face towards her until their foreheads were touching again. "Okay? I said it because it's true, and I wanted you to know."

Her eyes were now squeezed shut, but despite this there was a torrent of tears somehow leaking out of them, and her whole body began to shake. It was too much. Again, all she could think was that she had walked out on him, and how unworthy of him she was. Suddenly, his arms were around her tightly and he was pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Come on, Jane, we can do this, okay?" he asked insistently, his voice full of emotion. He was still so full of fear and doubt himself, left over from the past six months, and he honestly didn't know where the certainty he was projecting came from.

Because you found her, the voice in his head told him, and because she needs you to be the strong one right now. And because they understood each other well, he'd known that without actually realizing it.

They laid there, still holding onto each other for minutes that blurred into each other, and slowly he felt her breathing stabilize again. Though he didn't want to, he slowly managed to sit up, pulling her right along with him. Because of the way they'd been lying facing each other, when they stopped shifting, she was curled up in his lap.

"I would like nothing better than to stay just like this for a long, long time," he told her soothingly, "but…"

"I know," she replied, smiling weakly at him and wondering how she was going to force herself to stand up when the only place she wanted to be was exactly where she was. The thumb on her left hand played with the metal of her wedding ring, and she glanced down at it and smiled, despite the tears that had just barely stopped falling. Her smile didn't go unnoticed, of course.

"Thank you," she whispered. There were so many things she should be thanking him for just then, and she didn't know if he could understand just how much it meant to her that he was there. As much as she'd protested to the monks and to herself that she could never go back, being with him was really the only thing she had ever known for sure that she really, truly wanted, and now that he'd forced his way past her selfless insistence that she protect him even if it broke her heart to do so… Well, she was grateful that he was as stubborn as she was.

They both held on tightly to each other for another minute, knowing that standing up was inevitable, but that it was only the next step, and that it was one they would take together. Therefore, as they leaned into each other and simply inhaled the moment for which they had both yearned for so long, a feeling of peace came over both of them – differently, but also the same. Once again, her head rested on his shoulder. His right arm was securely around her, his elbow bent so that his right hand could move back and forth slowly over the spot on her back where the dark ink formed his name. He didn't need to see it to know where it was. It was a gesture so soothingly familiar, one that he'd done so many times, and it helped both of them to relax.

"Ready?" he asked her after a few minutes.

"Yeah," she replied slowly, feeling tired and yet energized at the same time. Reluctantly withdrawing her arms from around him, she leaned back and looked into his eyes, a genuine smile on her face.

Seeing her expression, he smiled as well. "That's better," he said, pressing the tip of his nose against hers, which made her smile even wider. "Is there anywhere we can brush our teeth around here?" he asked, which made her laugh.

"Yes, of course. Come on," she replied, lifting herself up off of his lap, and immediately missing the closeness. He stood up beside her, watching as she gathered a few drawings that she had done and set them carefully into her backpack. "Everything else is in there already," she shrugged, and he noted with surprise just how little she appeared to be carrying as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.

For a second he had a flashback to her safe house after she'd "come back" from the CIA black site ("come back" had always sounded better than "been captured and forced to come back"). It had been completely devoid of personal possessions, everything having been confiscated after her arrest. He hated to think of her living with nothing, either then or now.

There was a strange look on his face, almost disapproving, that she noticed had been a response to the last thing she'd said.

"How do you have so little?" he asked. "How did you even make it here?"

She shrugged in reply, not wanting to admit how much of how she'd come to the monks had been because of the kindness of strangers that she'd met at various points along the way and sheer dumb luck. She hadn't prepared herself properly, hadn't had half of the things she had needed, since she hadn't really had a destination in mind. All she'd been able to think was that she had to get as far away as possible, and really, looking back now she knew that logically she shouldn't have made it here.

But she had, somehow. And really, she could say that about a lot of different parts of her life.

Forcing himself to push aside the thoughts of how little she had with her, he focused simply on her once again, and the fact that she was real, there in front of him. The novelty of this fact had not yet worn off, and he suspected that it wouldn't for quite a long time. After as long as they had spent apart, and as badly as her absence had hurt him, it was hard to believe that this was actually real.

Unable to resist the urge to reach for her, even though they still had to exit through the narrow opening, he took her right hand in his. Stepping behind her, one after the other they ducked their heads and walked back out of the tent that she had occupied for the past several months. As soon as they were outside, the cool breeze reminded them that they were in the mountains. Standing side by side and looking around at the activity around them, Kurt switched hands so that she was holding her right in his left, holding on tightly as if they could somehow combat the chill in the air this way.

Jane found herself smiling shyly at him, as several of the monks looked up at them and smiled, then went about their business. Reminding herself that despite the novelty of how she felt, there was no reason to feel self-conscious – he was, after all, her husband – she led him a short distance to a pump that stuck out of the ground. A bucket sat underneath the mechanism to catch the water that was pumped out.

"Not glamorous, but it does the job," she said, reaching into the pocket of her backpack and producing a toothbrush and toothpaste. Then eyeing him teasingly, she asked, "Do you have one? Or do you want to share?"

He couldn't help but grin, feeling slightly giddy as he thought about the fact that he was here at all, standing in front of Jane and she was teasing him about sharing a toothbrush. It was all simply too good to be true. "Oh, I have one… but it's in my other bag. Which I left with one of the monks," he explained. That explained why she hadn't seen another bag, and why he'd shown up with only a tiny backpack that seemed to contain only the large metal box. "So if you're willing to share…" His words trailed off and he reached for her hand once again. She'd had to disengage from him when she'd taken out her toothbrush, and it already felt like too long since they'd had contact with one another.

"Hold on, silly," she grinned back at him, pulling her hand back from his so that she could pump a tiny bit of water, holding her toothbrush under the pump and then adding a dot of toothpaste. She held it out to him, but he shook his head.

"You first," he insisted, and she just smiled, shaking her head as she took the first turn brushing her teeth. When she was finished, he took the toothbrush and toothpaste from her and pumped a small amount of water into her hands so that she could bring it to her mouth to rinse the toothpaste out. She took a few steps away before spit it into onto the ground, careful not to make it splash back onto her boots.

When she walked back, he was brushing his teeth but his eyes were on her, every part of his face seeming to smile at her. Just as she felt her eyes constantly pulled back to him as if by magnetic force, it made sense that after all this time, he would be watching her as well. She knew well the feeling of slight desperation to be reassured that he was really there, after all, because she felt it too. It was hard to ignore the thought that she didn't deserve to feel as happy and safe just standing there with him as she did – not after she'd been the one who'd left – but thankfully she was so overwhelmed with happiness by his presence that it helped to push all other thoughts aside for the moment.

When they were both finished brushing their teeth, she replaced the toothbrush and toothpaste in her backpack, took the extra water that had collected in the bucket to wash away the remains of the toothpaste, and replaced the bucket before picking up her backpack once more.

"I just need to get the rest of my things from the monks," he told her.

Nodding, she smiled teasingly. "Yeah, I'd been wondering if you'd traveled all the way here with only that metal box." He couldn't help but grin at her in return. This was all too good to be true, and at that moment, she was smiling. That in and of itself meant everything – he'd wondered if he'd ever get to see that smile again, and the fear he'd felt at the thought that he wouldn't had been crippling at times, while it had fueled his determination at others.

Yes, there was a hard road ahead of them, and not just the literal one that they had to walk on, but then again, their path hadn't exactly been easy up to now, either. No, it seemed that they'd mastered the art of flirting while in the most dangerous of situations, actually – while diffusing bombs, among others. Still, at that moment they faced perhaps their biggest challenge to date, so he was even more grateful to see that even if it was only for a few minutes, she was smiling.

"We'll find that after I show you that thing I was talking about," she told him, this time reaching for his hand. Tugging him along with her, she began walking, and he followed her lead, moving closer to her and letting go of her hand so that he could thread his left arm around her waist. They fit together perfectly, just as they always had, even as they walked along side by side. This time, they both pulled each other closer than usual.

It wasn't a long walk to where they were going, and in a few minutes they were standing near the edge of what Kurt was surprised to see was a very steep drop off a cliff, especially for one to which they were standing so very close. The uneven rocks below stuck out at odd angles, but made a nearly ninety degree angle towards the ground, which was far, far below.

Damn, but that's a long way down, he thought. No wonder it was so hard to get up here. He'd taken the path that wound along the other side of the mountain, of course, but even though it had been steep, it hadn't looked nearly as dramatic as this view did.

Gazing out over the valley below, he looked at the landscape, and then turned his head in her direction. Yes, the view was breathtaking, but he'd rather look at her. However, he found that her expression was no longer a smile, but now something more serious. Craning her neck slightly to look down at the rocks below, she finally spoke. "I climbed that."

Leaning forward slowly to look down at the wall of rocks that almost seemed to continue indefinitely to the ground far below them, he looked back up at her in surprise. "You… climbed that…? That cliff?" he echoed in surprise.

Nodding seriously, she paused to remember those daily climbs. "Every day since I got here."

"You… but… every day?" he echoed, not quite sure he'd heard her right.

"Yep. Every day."

"But… Jane… you could have…" He was trying to compose himself, and not to act as shocked as he felt, but it wasn't proving easy. She could have fallen to her death. Easily."I'm, uh, guessing there's no safety equipment around here…" he stuttered, completely unnerved by the idea that his wife had been rock climbing on that cliff, completely unprotected, and that one misstep on any one of those climbs would have meant...

The look on her face answered him before she had a chance to think of what to say. She knew that he wasn't going to like the answer, and she certainly wasn't going to add that even her clothing had been ill-advised, especially her loose fitting t-shirt. Thinking about it now, she really was lucky to still be alive.

Apparently you didn't stop acting recklessly after the whole Sandstorm infiltration, or on your poorly planned journey to get here in the first place the voice in her head observed.

With a sigh, she looked down, knowing that what she'd done hadn't been smart. "I'm sorry," she told him softly. "I wasn't trying to be reckless…"

"I'm… I'm just glad I didn't have to watch," he told her, looking back out at the view and trying to erase the image he was seeing in his mind, of Jane plummeting to the ground below.

"When I climbed it the last time, yesterday, I got to the top… and the monk who was waiting for me told me that I should go home. That… there was longing in my eyes," she told him quietly.

"And let me guess… you had no intention of doing that, did you?" he asked. There was hurt in his voice, and she knew that he wasn't trying to make her feel guilty, but that it was genuinely just how he felt. Of course it was. Wouldn't she have felt the same way in his situation? She avoided his eyes, looking down at the rocky cliff. However, when she continued to feel him watching her, after a minute she finally gave in and looked up at him. His eyes were a swirl of emotions, but the prominent one just then was hurt, just as she'd expected.

Suddenly, she felt as though she absolutely couldn't walk another step until she told him the truth. It was weighing her down, she realized, no matter that he was being so understanding, and that he hadn't pressed her to talk about anything. Dropping her arm from around his waist, she sank to the ground where she stood, pushing her backpack off onto the ground and then pulling her knees up in front of her, wrapping her arms around them tightly. She took several deep breaths through her mouth, in and out slowly, trying to calm herself down as she stared out into the distance. Even though she didn't turn, or even look in his direction, she could feel him drop down beside her.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning closer to her but leaving a small space between them, keeping his hands to himself for the moment. "I didn't mean for it to sound so…" He sighed heavily, abandoning the sentence there. He didn't even know what he was trying to say, only that he hadn't meant to upset her once again.

"Please don't be," she whispered, dismayed to feel her emotions quickly rise to the surface again. "None of this is your fault." Then, in an even quieter voice, she added, "It was all me. Just like it always was." Just like that, she felt tears in her eyes all over again, and once again she wondered how she could possibly have done something so horrible. It was as though she simply couldn't feel badly enough to satisfy her conviction that she deserved to feel worse.

He took a few seconds to collect his thoughts, hoping that the tightness in his chest would fade so that he could think and speak properly. It was so hard to watch her do this to herself – insist on carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and hers alone. She'd done it for as long as he'd known her, but now she seemed to be beating herself up at the same time, and that needed to stop.

"This is not your fault, Jane," he told her, his voice no longer sounding hurt, but emphatic. Turning his body to sit facing her, he slowly reached up and put his left hand on the middle of her back, then laid his right hand just below her left knee, so that his hands rested on her gently. In this way, his arms reached partway around her, but he wasn't holding on tight. Just then she seemed like she needed a little space, but that was all he was willing to give her. When she just scoffed and shook her head, he continued talking.

"No, listen to me. You did not train yourself to be a child soldier. You did not brainwash yourself into believing that the best way to right the wrongs of the world was through violence, no matter what the cost. You did not do any of that to yourself, no matter what she made you believe. That was the orphanage, and then Shepherd. If you want to blame someone, blame them."

"I'm the one who left, no one else," she said, shaking her head emphatically, already feeling the first tears rolling down her cheeks. "I may not have done those other things to myself, but thanks to her, I did the rest of it. Me. Because apparently I'm too broken to let myself be happy, or…" She shook her head, finding it harder and harder to breathe. "I don't even know anymore," she whispered as she was overcome once again by emotion.

As she had several times already since he'd arrived the night before, she honestly expected him to ask her why she'd left. It would have been a logical question, because he still really didn't know, and he deserved to know. He might have a guess, but she knew that her note hadn't been clear, and that no one else would have known, either, to be able to tell him. No, she hadn't told anyone what she'd remembered. It scared her too much to think about it, much less to say it out loud.

But he didn't ask her, simply began moving his left hand across her back, side to side. He wanted to say something, but he simply didn't know what to say, and he was focusing all his energy on ignoring the ache in his chest that was there once again. It was all he could do not to ask her why she'd left. He knew there was a damned good reason, because he knew Jane, but at the same time, he couldn't pretend that it didn't still sting. A lot.

But you found her, he reminded himself, and it's going to be okay. She's going to tell you when she's ready.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself that it was time. "I… I left because…" She paused, but told herself to keep going, focusing on the sensation of warmth given off by his hands, which were on her back and her leg. From the very first day, his touch had been a steadying factor for her, something from which she had always drawn strength, and she certainly needed that strength now. She only hoped that he wouldn't recoil after she told him… but it was a chance she was just going to have to take.

"…I remembered," she told him quietly, still staring out at the landscape in the distance. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and she knew that he knew what she was saying.

"You… remembered?" he asked in surprise, trying to process what she'd just told him. "You mean…?" He was afraid to say the words. After all that time that she'd desperately wanted to remember, and now she did.

Nodding, her breath caught in her chest, and then came the familiar feeling of losing control as her face began to crumple yet again. Still, she was determined to force these words out. "Just when I couldn't have been happier being Jane… I'm… I'm Remi again." Then, sarcastically, she added, "Just what I always wanted – to remember… right?" The tears were falling faster down her cheeks now, and watching her like this broke his heart.

His hand stopped moving on her back, and he used both arms to pull her closer. "Hey, listen to me, Jane," he said sternly, making sure to use her name and staring hard at her until she reluctantly looked at him.

When she looked up, afraid of what she was going to see, there was an intensity she didn't ever remember seeing in his eyes before.

"I don't care what you remembered. You are not Remi," he told her firmly. There was nothing in the world that was going to convince him that she was, and she needed to understand that she wasn't, too. Of course, just telling her she wasn't Remi wasn't going to be enough, he knew, but his brain was still trying to play catch up, and to figure out what he could say to convince her. He hadn't been able to stop her face from dissolving into tears, and he already felt like he'd failed her.

She'd slid her feet out farther from her, leaning forward over her knees and reaching her arms around underneath her legs to hug them to her, and creating a space under her knees. In order to move even closer to her, which was imperative to him just then, he took advantage of that space, moving back so that he could slide his right leg under her knees, then moving his left leg behind her. Now using both arms, he tugged her toward him until her head was against his chest. Really, he'd thought that she might have fought him, but it was quite the opposite. As soon as he pulled her gently toward him, she seemed to fall in his direction, as if she'd only been waiting for an excuse.

"Hey… hey… come here…" he said soothingly, his arms winding around her tightly and his right hand smoothing her hair. "You can't do this to yourself, okay? I don't care what you remembered. You are not Remi. Do you hear me?" He was speaking urgently, knowing that she had had a very long time to internalize this belief, and that convincing her otherwise was going to be difficult. He understood now, or he thought he did, why she'd left.

She began shaking her head, but he stopped her before she went through the trouble of finding the words to argue with him. "Do you want to know how I know you're not Remi? That's easy," he told her confidently. "Because Remi may or may not have killed me by now, but she most certainly wouldn't have felt any remorse about what was happening to her. If anything, it would have made her happy… or just angrier, maybe… but she would never have shed a single tear. Not for or me or anyone else."

Choking back tears, she tried to pull back from him, but found that she couldn't, because he held on tightly. "But I remember it," she said insistently. "All of it. I remember how it felt. And what happens if I… if what happened to Roman… happens to me… If I…"

Again, Kurt's heart ached for this woman who had lost so much, who had been through more than any person should go through in three or more lifetimes, much less one. "I told you two years ago, and I've said it since then, you are not your brother," he told her. "Your situation was very different. He barely had a chance to be a new Roman before he remembered again. He hadn't figured out who the new Roman was, and the old memories were just too strong. But you…"

He paused and looked at her as best he could from his angle, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "You are Jane, and you know who you are. You've known for years already. I don't care what you remember, it can't just wipe away the past three years… almost four, I think…" He paused, wondering how he could possibly have not known her all his life. He remembered those many long, painful years before he met her, but it almost felt like they were someone else's memories. This made him wonder if that was sort of how she was feeling, except that those "someone else's memories" that she had were much more frightening.

She didn't reply, but she seemed to be calming down, her breathing seeming to slow back to normal. "I can't imagine having those other memories in your head…" he whispered. "I wish I could take them for you."

"It's like having a split personality," she replied weakly. "I don't hear her voice in my head, thank goodness, but I remember things… horrible things… and they make me afraid of myself. What I might do if that part of me… of her… were to take over. I just…" She sighed heavily, her voice shaking a little as she continued. "I couldn't risk that I was going to become her again, that something could happen to you, because of me…"

He tightened his arms around her, smiling sadly and taken aback. He loved her so much, it physically hurt. "You're just proving to me how very much you are not Remi, you know," he said, speaking into her ear, his forehead leaned against the side of her head. "If anything, you're the opposite of Remi, no matter what you remember. Remi, from everything I can tell, never really understood the concept of love. And it wasn't her fault. It seems like it was conditioned out of her. Shepherd taught her that it was just another way to manipulate people." He paused to let him words sink in.

"Now, you, on the other hand… Here you are, on a mountain that's like a week's journey from home, if not more… living with monks. And why? Because you wanted to protect me from something that you weren't even sure that I needed to be protected from. Why do you suppose that is?" he asked her, loosening his right arm around her and withdrawing it slowly so that he could find her right hand, which was clenched on top of her left knee, and covered it with his own. Slowly, he felt her grip loosening so that gradually, he could thread his fingers through hers on the back of her hand.

She wasn't sure whether or not it was a rhetorical question, but she decided to answer anyway. "Because…" she began unsteadily, realizing only mid-way through her sentence what he was doing, but deciding to finish. If nothing else, she needed to tell him. After everything she'd put him through, he certainly deserved to be reminded. "…because I love you."

He leaned to his right and turned so that his face was close in front of hers, looking into her eyes, his smile more than a little bit triumphant despite the anguish of everything else that lay just beneath the surface. Deep down, he couldn't help but feel relieved, even though ever since the previous night, his doubts had all but evaporated. "So from that simple fact alone, how could you ever think that you could be anything like her? She didn't know how to love. You, on the other hand, don't know how to stop yourself. It's part of who you are."

With a great deal of effort, she smiled just a tiny, exhausted smile, but it was enough for him. Shaking her head slowly, she leaned back down against his chest, drained from the effort of the conversation. "I just don't know anymore," she said, her tears suddenly starting again.

"That's okay," he told her soothingly. Kissing the top of her head, he leaned his left cheek against the top of her head and squeezing her right hand tightly, his left arm holding on around her back. "Let me tell you what I know. I know that your name is Jane Weller, and that you are my wife. I know that I'm the luckiest person in the world." She scoffed slightly, but he shook his head. "No interrupting, please," he told her sternly, and continued. He saw a hint of a smile on her face, and she nodded slightly.

"I know that I am not afraid of you, and you shouldn't be either. And I know that you are one of the most caring, empathetic people in the entire world, not despite who you are, but because of it. I know that every time I think it's not possible to love you more, you do something that makes me do just that. Although I have to say," he said, the seriousness melting away as his tone became playful. "This time seems like it might be impossible to top."

She breathed unevenly, unable to fight the smile that was working its way slowly onto her face. This wasn't a second chance. Being Jane had been a second chance the first time. After the CIA, she'd gotten a third chance. This was at least a fourth chance, if not more.

"Promise me one thing, though?" he asked, and she heard the hesitation in his voice.

"I promise never again to leave you a note and run away to the ends of the Earth to hide from you for your own protection and live with monks," she said, managing to do so with a straight face only because she was too tired just then for a hint of humor.

He smiled at her joke, however, nuzzling his face in her hair and chuckling. "That's very reassuring, and it was a good guess, but that's not what I was going to say."

"Oh, okay, sorry," she mumbled. "Go ahead."

Shaking his head against hers, he continued. "Jane, I'm not asking you to be sorry. If anything, I want you to stop being sorry. What I want you to promise me is that you'll talk to me… about whatever is going on in your head. I think we understand each other most of the time. Sometimes it's a little shocking how well we understand each other. But I don't always know what you're thinking. Just… please don't shut me out." Not again, he thought, but he didn't add that part. He knew she felt guilty enough as it was.

Under his cheek, she nodded. "Okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry." Just then, she felt like she was never going to stop feeling like she had to apologize to him.

"Okay I'll ignore the fact that I just told you to stop apologizing for a second… If you're telling me you're sorry for loving me more than you love yourself – well I guess you should be, because you should love yourself at least that much… but we can work on that," he chuckled, having jokingly pretended to misunderstand her apology.

After a pause, he kissed her temple and spoke softly. "Stop apologizing, alright? We're good. I'm not going to pretend that it didn't hurt when you left, but I understand. I do. Caring about other people too much is just part of what makes you Jane. It always has been. I don't love you despite that, I love you because of it… well, that and many other things, anyway."

She didn't reply, but he felt her lean into him with what felt like all her weight, as if she expected someone to come along and try to pry them apart. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears once again leaking out, but this time even she couldn't tell whether they were tears of happiness or sadness. Maybe there were some of both. He let go of her hand slowly, wrapping his right arm around her again, holding on tighter with both arms. It hit him all over again, the enormity of it all, and he had to make a conscious effort not to be overcome with emotion himself.

It was at least five or ten minutes later before either of them spoke or moved, as if they needed to rest after such an outpouring of emotion. His arms were still tightly wound around her. The fact that he always seemed to know when to hold on and when to let go was just one of the things that she loved about him.

"We should go," she told him finally, her voice sounding more like herself, less frantic, though still reluctant.

"Are you sure?" he asked with concern.

"There are people counting on us," she reminded him. "Besides, as long as I have you…" She trailed off in the middle of her sentence, sitting up straighter and leaning back to look at him. Her face was puffy from so many tears and she looked exhausted, but at the same time, if it was possible to be both, she looked… happy.

"You are exactly right," he told her, leaning forward slowly to kiss her, savoring this kiss perhaps more than any other before it. Only after a long minute did they remember that they were still in the vicinity of the monks, even though there were no orange robes near them at the moment, and between that and the fact that it was time to start their journey, they leaned back and looked at each other, smiling a little shyly at each other.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank you," he replied, touching his forehead to hers for a few seconds, before sitting back and looking into her eyes again. "Ready?" he asked, now appreciating her smile more than ever because of how hard he'd just worked to put it there.

"Let's go," she replied. "We have somewhere to be."

"Yes we do," he agreed, loosening his grip on her only reluctantly, and only because he reminded himself that they couldn't make their way back home if he didn't let go of her. Really, he would have been perfectly happy to sit there with her that way indefinitely. But since that wasn't currently an option, he contented himself with thinking about the fact that he wouldn't have to sleep without her beside him again, that later that day they would curl up together somewhere, however far they managed to get.

That thought sustained him as he carefully pulled his left leg back around her, and his right leg out from underneath the tent made by her legs. Bracing himself against the ground with his hands, he stood up, then offered her a hand. She took it with a smile, allowing him to help her up. It was such a relief to be able to do that again. Hell, it was a relief to be able to look at her again.

They both lifted their backpacks onto their backs, and somehow unsurprisingly, they each reached for the other's hand at almost the same instant. Smiling at each other, they set off to say goodbye to the monks and to retrieve the rest of Kurt's gear before they began the slow trek home. The first step would be to reach the nearest village, further down the mountain. It was tiny, and Kurt had stopped there on his way up, only a few days before. Luckily for him, it was hard for most people to forget Jane, and it had caused such a stir when she'd come through town that even though it was many months later, everyone had known exactly which woman he was referring to when he'd described her.

When the eldest of the monks saw the two westerners approaching, holding hands, he couldn't help but smile. From what he'd seen of the two of them, it wasn't a surprise. Though the woman, who he'd been surprised to learn spoke their language with great skill, had protested that she could never return to the home from which she'd come, it seemed that she had decided to do just that.

This is just as it should be, the old monk thought. The woman had been stubborn, adamant that she could not go home, but clearly the man's arrival had changed her mind.

"Come," he said, beckoning them in English to follow him as he walked slowly to where the rest of Kurt's things had been left the night before, in a small tent that appeared to be used for storage. The monks did not have much in the way of possessions, and it appeared that all of their excess supplies fit inside this small structure.

Beside Kurt's bag, there was a small pile of provisions – a few bottles of water, a small amount of food, among a few other things. "For your journey back home," the old monk said in his own language, gesturing to the supplies and leaving Kurt confused. Jane, however, nodded and smiled. She dropped Kurt's hand reluctantly, bringing her palms together in front of her face and bowing slightly in reply.

Jane and Kurt both knelt down, putting their backpacks onto the ground and opening them to fit the provisions from the pile that the monk had offered. Between the two bags that they had carried, and the larger one that Kurt had left with the monks, which had actually been designed more specifically for long distance hikes and therefore had a much larger capacity, they managed to store all of the provisions that were offered to them. Standing up again, they hoisted everything onto their backs, Kurt carrying the bag that contained the metal box in one hand for the time being, and all exited the tent.

Smiling despite the weight of their packs, they regarded the old monk. "Thank you," Jane told him in the local dialect, "for all of your kindness. For helping me find peace."

"It appears that the peace you sought was seeking you all along," the monk told her with a slight smile.

Jane felt herself blush at the old man's observation. "It would seem so," she replied.

She bowed again, and the old monk did the same. Kurt, unsure exactly what was being said, but understanding the politeness of the gesture, followed Jane's lead.

"Thank you," he told the old man sincerely. The monk smiled at him, bowing in his direction as well.

"Safe journey," the old man said in English. The two nodded, bowing once more, before turning to walk away in the direction of the road that led out of the monks' tiny settlement, toward the nearest village, which was at least a day's walk from there. They hadn't gone five steps before their hands were joined, once again finding each other in nearly the same instant, without them even having to glance in the other's direction.

As they rounded a bend and the beginning of the dirt path came into view, he felt her hand squeeze his, holding on tight. Turning to look at her with concern, he couldn't help but worry. It would probably be a long time before he didn't worry about every little thing when it came to Jane, but that was okay. The fact that she was there, that he had the opportunity to worry about her here, where he could see her in front of him, rather than having to wonder abstractly whether she was even alive, was a miracle.

"Everything okay?" he asked, stopping in place and looking at her worriedly.

She smiled weakly at his concern, nodding her head. He could see the smile in her eyes, at least, and it was brighter than ever. He couldn't help but smile back at her.

"I'm still scared, but… not in the same way," she told him. "It's hard to explain." Feeling him squeeze her hand tighter, then relax his hold, she held eye contact with him.

"That's okay," he assured her. "We'll get there."

"Yeah," she whispered, glancing at the path they were about to take.

"Ready?" he asked her.

"Ready," she replied eagerly, her smile spreading across her face as she looked at him. With that, they looked ahead and began walking again.

They both knew that it wasn't going to be an easy trip, and that they wouldn't be lucky enough to have enough space to walk side by side the whole way… but then, it was almost like a metaphor for the journey that they'd already been on for years, the one that had started back on the day when the FBI had found Jane in Times Square – maybe even long before that. Things had never been easy for them before, and yet here they were, happier than ever, always stronger together than apart. That had to mean something.

No, they didn't need easy. What they needed was each other – the rest would fall into place somehow, the way it always did. Now that they understood this, this particular part of their journey didn't feel so daunting.

"Oh, one more thing," Kurt said, pulling her to a quick stop, to her surprise. He was grinning at her, and she couldn't help but do the same. The look on his face was infectious.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"This," he said, leaning down to kiss her, slightly less innocently than the previous time. "I've missed being able to do that whenever I felt like it."

"Me, too," she whispered against his lips, the familiar buzzing sensation that she got from kissing him, from an overdose of happiness, filling her head. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be so happy, and that just made it even better. "But let's not get too distracted. We have places to be. I promise lots more of that later, though."

He leaned back slowly, raising his eyebrows at her. "I'm going to hold you to that, Mrs. Weller." It wasn't lost on her that he'd emphasized the Mrs. Weller, and she smiled even harder.

"I expect nothing less from you," she told him, grinning happily. "Now let's get going."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin, squeezing her hand again and reluctantly tearing his eyes away from her to look at the path ahead of them. Their future had never been certain, but his love for her… well, he was as certain of that as he was of her love for him.

That was enough.