Disclaimer: I do not own Jane or Kurt or Blindspot. Writing about them is simply the outlet for my obsession.

A/N: I will be the first to admit, again, that I know nothing about FBI or pretty much any other government protocols other than what I see on TV shows like Blindspot (which I also know are not necessarily the real protocols). Therefore, I've tried to make them up as realistically as I can. Warning: I may or may not have made myself cry a little while writing this chapter… Thanks so much to those of your who've left reviews! They keep me going and always make me smile.

THE TEAM

The days that followed seemed to move frustratingly slowly. The team tried not meet in their makeshift situation room so much that they would arouse suspicion, but they went there as often as they could. They were given another case to investigate, and while it fell under FBI jurisdiction, and therefore wasn't frivolous by any stretch of the imagination, after nearly a year of tattoo cases it was hard for them to feel that anything else they worked on held quite the importance of the ones connected with Jane. With this new case, there didn't seem to be a larger plot in the works, just someone who thought they were smarter than everyone else. The team had gotten so used to the cases that were based on the tattoos, and therefore of thinking of everything as a puzzle that connected somehow, their new case seemed trivial. Ordinary.

It was nearing the end of another day, after they'd been officially off the Jane Doe project, as Mr. Nice Guy – a nickname the team had given to their superior after he'd threated that he wouldn't be Mr. Nice Guy anymore – had put it. His arrival had coincided almost exactly with Mayfair's disappearance, and he'd been the one to name Kurt as first the acting, and then permanent, replacement for her.

"I never thought I'd say it," Reade had said to the team, "but this job has gotten… boring." Zapata and Patterson nodded, grimacing. It was the truth. They'd gotten so used to the mysterious plot behind the tattoos that working other cases just wasn't the same. They were still important, yes, but they each felt like they could be doing more. This felt like "busy work."

Kurt just gritted his teeth and pretended that he hadn't heard the last comment, for several reasons. First of all, he was the boss now. It had been a rough adjustment for him, no longer constantly going into the field with his team. That was a part of the job that he'd always enjoyed, that he'd been good at. Things felt different between himself and the team, too. Being lead agent was different than being head of the NYO. He was still part of the team, of course… except that in another way, he wasn't. He hadn't named anyone else to the team to replace himself as of yet – there was too much going on. The team had gone from three – himself, Reade and Zapata – to four when Jane had joined them, albeit accidentally at first – and now to two – just Reade and Zapata. He knew that they needed another agent to help them, but… he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

But work wasn't the only reason things were different, of course. He was trying very hard not to compare his life now to his life before. But before what? And what life, really? When had he ever really had a life outside of work? The only thing he had outside of work was an apartment – because he had to sleep somewhere – and Sarah and Sawyer. He barely counted that as a life… What little life he had had always been about Taylor Shaw. There was no time that he couldn't remember that he hadn't either had her in his life – though that time was far, far too short – or devoted himself to the pursuit of finding her, and of her memory. Jane was even lumped into that time, because he'd been so very sure, so convinced, that she had been Taylor.

So really, when he tried to avoid thinking about her, he'd had to block out his entire life up to 5 days ago – or, 4 really, because that whole hangover situation wasn't something he wanted to think about, either. It still had him slightly queasy to think about waking up in Allie's spare room that morning – and so he simply tried not to. All he could do was to attempt to keep himself in the present and force himself to move forward. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with his past.

How ironic, since Jane so desperately wanted to find out about her past – until she actually did – and you want nothing to do with yours. He ordered his inner voice to stop, but it seemed to be on a roll. Too bad you can't erase your own memory – selectively, of course. That would be so much easier, so convenient. This was one of those times when he hated the voice in his head.

His jaw tightened until it hurt, and he forced himself to take a deep breath, exhaling slowly and looking up at his team, who sat across the desk from him. They were in the middle of briefing him on their progress on their new case in his office. Was he imagining it, or were they looking at him strangely? He wondered if his thoughts showed on his face.

"Anything else?" he asked them through gritted teeth. He didn't disagree with Reade about the job feeling like it had lost a sense of meaning, however, it wasn't solely because of the mundane case that Mr. Nice Guy now had them working. It wasn't just his job that felt like it had lost meaning, after all. His life felt as though it had lost important meaning – which was ironic considering that he felt like he didn't even have a life. But everything he'd known had been a lie. This mundane case was the only thing that was real. And yet, this "reality" felt pathetic and empty.

The three agents across the desk from him shook their heads. There was nothing new. They knew that they should be giving the case their full attention, but at the same time, they also knew that given their full attention, they could solve the case with their eyes shut. Their attention, however, was being split in several directions, and they had no plans for this to change.

"Thanks," Kurt said. "Let me know if anything changes."

"Will do," Reade said, and the three of them got up to leave. Kurt already looked like his thoughts were a million miles away.

Zapata left the office last, and paused in the doorway, turning around. "Weller?" she asked.

He looked up at her, as if he was surprised to still find her there. "Yeah?" he asked, looking confused.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, the same way he always did. "I'm fine," he insisted gruffly.

Patterson smiled sadly at him, nodding. "It's okay if you're not, you know."

Kurt knew that she was being supportive, but he couldn't help but be a little bit irritated by her just then. "I'm really okay, Zapata," he repeated, trying not to let the annoyance show in his voice.

She nodded, and turned to follow the others out into the hall, catching up with them as Reade and Patterson turned down the hallway that would take them to their unofficial meeting room to work on their "real" case – the important one. They hadn't been there yet that day, so it was time to head down for a little while. Zapata paused at the intersection, looking the other way.

ZAPATA

"I'll catch up with you guys," she told them, looking away. The other two just nodded, knowing exactly what she was doing. They'd all been going down to look in on Jane at least once a day, sometimes more. Zapata and Patterson had gone in and tried to talk to her. So far, the closest Reade had gotten to her was looking at her through the window, but he'd done it at least once every day. As angry as he was, he wanted to understand. He was conflicted, and the more he thought about the whole thing, the more conflicted he felt.

Zapata wondered if Jane was in Interrogation, or in her cell. She'd noticed one difference after that first day, which was that since then, Jane had never been put in Interrogation Room 1, always in one of the others. She had a very strong feeling that Weller been behind that one. Just thinking about her boss and his obvious feelings for Jane made her heart hurt. He'd obviously been to see her that first day since he seemed to have known which room she'd been in, but she was fairly sure that he hadn't been down that way since then. He avoided the subject of her completely, and she'd noticed the muscles in his face contract tightly each time anything remotely related to Jane was mentioned.

This made things awkward in their improvised "secret lab," because they were looking for clues about Mayfair, but also about Jane. It didn't stop Weller from coming down there, however, and she supposed that under the circumstances, it was the best they could expect for now. Weller was loyal to a fault, but he was also one of the most stubborn people she knew – which reminded her of herself, actually – and she wasn't sure if any of them would be able to get through to him about Jane. It didn't help that they still didn't know exactly what had happened, because Jane still wasn't talking, and no one could find any leads.

It had been five days of official interrogations, of visits from Dr. Borden, Zapata and Patterson, but she still hadn't said a single word. Zapata couldn't figure out why. Maybe she could understand why she wouldn't talk to the official interrogators or even Dr. Borden, though it was making her look guilty as hell, but why wouldn't she talk to her, or to Patterson? As an FBI agent and as a friend, she was frustrated with Jane for not cooperating. They weren't solely trying to prosecute her, after all. They were trying to help her – at least she and Patterson were – though she wasn't making it easy for them.

As Zapata neared the end of the hallway, she saw that the lights were on in Interrogation Room 2. Walking to the door, she shook her head sadly, pausing at the door when she saw Jane in the same spot she always seemed to occupy – on the floor, against the wall, with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Here goes nothing, she thought as she let herself into the room for the umpteenth time.

The door clicked loudly to signal her entrance, and then clicked loudly again when it locked behind her, but Jane showed no sign of having heard it. This time, she sat with her left cheek leaned against her knees, staring at the back wall of the room. Zapata approached slowly, knowing that after so many unsuccessful attempts, by her and by others, she wasn't at all likely to get Jane talking. It was as though Jane had just shut down, and nothing anyone said could get through to her. Still, Zapata couldn't just give up on her. Jane was stubborn, but so was she. The whole team seemed to have that in common, actually.

She leaned her back against the wall on Jane's left, sliding down it until she was sitting on the floor beside her. "Jane," she said in a quiet voice, turning her head towards her, "talk to me. Please." She couldn't erase the side of her that was an FBI agent and wanted to make progress on Jane's case, but mostly, she hated to see her friend so obviously hurting and keeping it all inside. "You can trust me."

Zapata could hear Jane's breath catch in her chest, which was more of a reaction that she or anyone else had gotten in any of their other attempts. Though it was a tiny thing, she couldn't help but feel encouraged by it. "We need your help," Zapata continued quietly. "We want to help you. You know we do… don't you?" She'd said it so many times she felt like a broken record by now. Still, she couldn't help but think that if she only tried hard enough, eventually Jane would come around.

It wasn't really a secret that the official interrogations that the Bureau was doing with Jane were not so kind. Those agents did not seem concerned with helping Jane out of trouble so much as finding out what they could pin blame on her for, so Zapata tried to be the opposite of those. More than anything, she tried to remind Jane that she thought of her as her friend, and maybe unlike the official interrogators, as a human being, not just a heavily tattooed asset who may or may not have gone rogue.

No matter what the truth was, Zapata refused to believe that it had all been a lie, that Jane had plotted it all from the beginning. She had seen Jane back when they'd first found her, and she had not been lying. Maybe Zapata believed this because she just wanted to believe it, or maybe because Patterson, the eternal optimist, was rubbing off on her. Or maybe it was because she'd seen the way Jane had looked at Kurt and refused to believe the feelings that she so obviously had for him hadn't been real… Or maybe it was a combination of the three. Whatever it was, and whatever Jane had done, she wanted to help her – if she could only figure out how. But she couldn't do anything until she got her to talk.

And so she kept trying.

She sat beside Jane and listened to her breathe for a while, staring ahead at the metal table in front of her and the opposite wall beyond it, not saying anything else. After about twenty minutes, she looked over at the back of Jane's head and smiled sadly. "I'm not giving up, Jane," she whispered. "Please let me help you. Just think about it."

With that, Zapata got up, dusted herself off and walked towards the door, looking back over her shoulder as the door clicked, signaling the lock's release and clicking again a few seconds later to signal that it was once again locked behind her. As usual, Jane hadn't moved the whole time she'd had been there. Shaking her head sadly, Zapata turned to leave, the echo of her footsteps soon disappearing down the hall.

JANE

She so badly wanted to turn around and tell Zapata every little thing that she could remember, about all of it, and she couldn't quite pinpoint what was stopping her. It wasn't that she was afraid – not exactly. After all, what was there to be afraid of? She was already in jail, after all, or in FBI custody anyway, which was close enough. She was grateful that she at least was not mixed in with a general prison population - her FBI detention conditions were more like solitary confinement, except for her daily visits from her interrogators, Dr. Borden, Patterson and Zapata. But that was fine with her. Having fewer people that she had to avoid talking to was easier.

What she couldn't figure out was why she was so adamant about not talking to anyone. She knew that it didn't make sense that she didn't even know herself why she wasn't talking. It wasn't because of a lack of people that were trying to get her to talk, either – using many different techniques, too. The Bureau's interrogators were pretty relentless with their questioning. Every time they left, she felt even guiltier than she had before they'd arrived, and the feelings of guilt compounded every day. Visits from Zapata and Patterson made her feel sad in addition to guilty. How could she have done this to her friends? To Kurt? At this point, on the fifth day, it had become unbearable.

The interrogators seemed to think that eventually they would break her, but they couldn't be farther from the truth. No, the more they questioned her, the less she wanted to tell them anything. It had become clear that they were more interested in using her for information anyway. This was the only real power she had, and as strange as it may seem, that made her more determined to keep the information to herself. Besides, they didn't care about helping her. So what was the point? She'd still end up in jail.

But Zapata and Patterson kept coming in and sitting with her, speaking softly to her and tempting her to tell them everything – or anything, really. Even Dr. Borden had been a welcome visitor, though she'd shown no hints of how much any of these visits had meant to her. It was the same as the interrogators' visits, but the opposite. She knew that while they did need to try to solve her case, they cared about her, and not just because of their jobs. But again, what would be the point? What good could it do to tell them anything at this point? She'd still end up in jail… and she was already in jail.

And so she sat, torturing herself, through what felt like an endless string of visits, some friendly and some not, but all of them pointless. She wasn't going to talk.

But it was wearing on her, the emotional toll of all of it, and on the fifth day when Zapata sat beside her and pleaded quietly with her to talk, she almost did. Jane knew that she was close to the end of her rope, and it was all she could do to catch herself, letting out a small noise as her breath caught in her throat, but nothing else. Zapata, you have no idea how much I want to talk, she told her silently. Still, she said nothing, didn't move at all, simply let Zapata's words bounce around in her head.

Jane, talk to me. Please. You can trust me.

We need your help. We want to help you. You know we do… don't you?

I'm not giving up, Jane. Please let me help you. Just think about it.

Jane was glad she was facing the back wall when Zapata got up to leave. As far as Jane was concerned, it was better that her friend couldn't see the tears rolling across her cheeks, soaking the knees of her pants.

PATTERSON

Patterson had known exactly where Zapata was headed, and she had hoped that she'd have some luck this time. Every time one of them went down to Interrogation, they hoped that this would be the time they'd get lucky, and Jane would talk. However, when Zapata ducked quietly through the doorway of their makeshift workspace, Patterson could see from looking at her that she hadn't been any more successful than any of their other attempts.

It was all just so unfair, Patterson thought to herself. Hadn't Jane been through enough? Did no one else but them care about her as a human being? Why did it seem like the tattoos were the only thing that other people could see? No wonder they made Jane feel so self-conscious that she tried to hide them. Patterson was angry with the world, but had no one to take it out on, and so she did what she always seemed to do – she threw herself even harder into her work. Surely, if she looked hard enough, she would find what they'd been missing.

Reade and Zapata were sitting across the room by the white board having a discussion, but Patterson wasn't listening. She stared intently at one of the giant monitors that they'd managed to find in unused offices and brought into their workroom, which she – being the tech genius – had connected together. It was almost as good as working in the screens room… except, of course, that they were working down here because they didn't have their whole team. Jane was a part of their team now, and they needed to get her back. Even Weller, though he did come down some of the time, wasn't quite on their side because of the whole Jane thing. No, until this mess was fixed, she would simply have to work harder. She had lost David for good, but she could still get Jane and Weller back. She would get them back.

It was Reade who called their attention to the time, and reminded them that they couldn't afford to stay down there much longer without attracting unwanted attention. They reluctantly agreed, turning out the lights and locking the door before heading back to their assigned workstations.

Patterson sat in her lab for a full five minutes staring at the same page of notes before she realized that she had read it three times but hadn't actually read a word of it. Sighing in frustration, she stood up and stretched. For all the good it would do, it was time for her to go and try again.

The lights were out in all of the interrogation rooms, which meant that they'd taken Jane back to her cell. Patterson's insides clenched, knowing that as much as she disliked seeing Jane in an interrogation room, it was a hundred times better than seeing her in a jail cell. However, her personal discomfort didn't matter – not when she had a friend who needed her. And despite the fact that Jane hadn't looked at or even spoken to any of them in the five days that she'd been held there, they knew that she needed them. Jane may not have even known it herself, but Patterson and Zapata certainly did. If absolutely nothing else, even if she didn't need them to solve her case – which they believed that she did – she needed them because they were her friends.

After all, everyone needs someone who won't give up on them, Patterson thought.

And so she went through yet another series of locked doors, past a guard who checked her ID carefully and buzzed her through another heavy, barred door. Though her team didn't normally have access to any of the cells, after what she was sure had been strenuous objections from Mr. Nice Guy and the other higher ups, Weller had managed to have their team granted access to a small portion of them, one that was set far away from the others, where Jane was being held and no one else.

It had surprised and confused the hell out of the rest of the team that Weller had done something like that, but it only served to reinforce in Zapata and Patterson's minds that they shouldn't lose hope. Despite the fact that Kurt had told them in no uncertain terms that he was done with her, they had reason to believe that his feelings for Jane were even more complicated than even he realized. He needed time, they knew, and they all needed to get to the truth. The trick was, how to get to the truth.

Patterson approached Jane's cell slowly and quietly, feeling somewhat intimidated by the thick bars separating her from her friend. It was like a slap in the face, as if someone was saying that they needed protection from her. Granted, they had all seen Jane in action and they knew exactly the kind of violence that she was capable of. But Patterson knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jane would never hurt her. On the contrary, she'd saved their team numerous times, and she trusted her with her life. It hurt to see her locked up like a common criminal.

PATTERSON AND JANE

Jane was sitting in her cell the same way she sat in the interrogation room: on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head down. The cell was so tiny that the square of floor that she sat on was almost the only floor space available. It just happened that she was right beside the bars on one side, and Patterson, as she had done the one other time she'd come to see Jane in her cell, sat down on the floor just on the other side of the bars from where her friend sat – as close to her as she could get. She was already fighting back tears as she looked at her, and she was momentarily thankful that Jane had her head down, as usual, and couldn't see them.

Stop it, Patterson, she told herself. This isn't about you. Jane needs you. You have to be stronger than this.

And so she wiped the tears that she had already shed, and firmly told herself that no more were allowed to come. Miraculously, somehow it worked, and she turned her attention to Jane. She watched her slow, even breathing for a few minutes, knowing very well that her friend was not asleep and that she knew that she was there, even if she chose not to move or react. Patterson didn't know how she knew, she just did. After all, this was Jane, whose skills were so phenomenal, sometimes they seemed to border on superpowers.

"We're trying, Jane," she whispered, "but we need your help." She let her words sink in for a few minutes, not feeling rushed. If anything, despite how much she hated it there, she wanted to stay as long as she could get away with. She hated to imagine the hours upon hours that Jane sat in there alone. After a while, Patterson spoke again. "I know it's… scary. And I know that I don't know what you're going through. I can't even imagine." She paused, trying to think of what else to say. She felt like she'd tried every combination of supportive words over the past five days, again and again but to no avail. Somehow, she was convinced that if she could just find the right words, that Jane would talk to her.

"Jane, I know if doesn't feel like it, but you're going to get through this. We're going to figure it out. We're not going to stop until we do. But…" she paused, feeling silly because she was repeating so much of what she's said in the past, but desperately hoping that this would be the time she got through to her. "But Jane, we need your help." Patterson felt her voice breaking on the last word, felt the tears stinging her eyes again, and cursed herself silently. Stop it! she ordered herself. Then, in an even quieter voice, she added,"Just like you need ours. We're a team, remember?" She heard the slightest noise then, a muffled sob that had escaped despite Jane's best attempts to stop it.

Though she knew that it wasn't allowed, Patterson put her hand through the bars and squeezed Jane gently on the shoulder. She felt Jane flinch for a second, surprised by the contact she hadn't been expecting, then felt her relax, a ragged breath escaping from her that was, again, without her permission. Finally, for the first time in five days, Jane raised her head and looked at Patterson. Up to that point, she hadn't even looked at a single person who'd come to talk to her, so this was already huge progress. The depth of the sadness in Jane's eyes almost took Patterson's breath away. It was something she couldn't describe properly to Zapata afterwards, though she tried.

Jane's sad eyes fixed on her friend for a full minute, and then, even more unexpectedly, she spoke. Her voice was hoarse from her prolonged silence, but there was no mistaking the sadness in it. "I'm ready to talk. But only to Kurt."

Patterson was no longer attempting to stop the tears that were falling down her cheeks now, and she squeezed Jane's shoulder again, nodding. She wasn't offended by Jane's insistence on talking to Weller. On the contrary, it made sense. Whatever had happened, it was so much more between Jane and Kurt than the rest of them.

Besides that, she could appreciate Jane's strategy. Jane most likely knew that Kurt wouldn't talk to her otherwise, based on what she'd heard about their last interaction. But Kurt would also never let a case go unsolved solely because of his personal feelings about someone. He was too deeply committed to his job to allow that, even where it involved Jane. Or maybe, especially where it involved Jane. It might take a while, but he would talk to her if that was the only way to get her to talk.

Nodding through her tears, which were filled with both hope and sadness and so many other emotions, Patterson managed to find her voice as well. "Okay, Jane, I'll tell him," she told her friend. "And if you need anything…" she trailed off, finding herself choked by the flood of emotions that had simply overtaken her since Jane had spoken.

"Thank you, Patterson," Jane whispered, so softly that the blonde almost didn't hear her. Jane sniffled slightly, and her eyes looked a little glassier than usual, but she managed to keep her composure better than Patterson did. She covered Patterson's hand, still on her shoulder, with one of her own and squeezed it for a few seconds before letting go. Patterson slowly withdrew her hand and smiled sadly at Jane as she stood up to go.

"I'll see you soon," Patterson told her. Jane just nodded at her, watching as Patterson turned and retraced her path out of the secured area, back out into the hallways.

PATTERSON, ZAPATA AND READE

She had almost gotten her emotions under control but when she found Zapata and Reade, who were chatting with each other from their workstations. Suddenly she felt the flood of emotions once again and wondered if she would be able to hold it together, and for how long.

Zapata and Reade could see right away that something had happened, because it was written all over Patterson's face.

"What is it?" Zapata asked quickly. "What happened?"

"It's Jane," Patterson replied quickly, but keeping her voice low. The three of them quickly huddled together. "She said she'll talk… but only to Weller."

It took a minute for this to sink in with the other two agents. Patterson had taken it as an encouraging, if problematic, step, but Reade shook his head, knowing that this news was not going to go over well with their boss. Zapata's face morphed into deep concentration, as if she were considering how to solve a complex problem – which really, she was. The question was, how would they possibly convince Weller that talking to Jane was to his benefit?

Patterson, seeing the skepticism on the faces of the other two, shook her head. "No, it's ok. I think he'll do it." Zapata and Reade looked at her in confusion, waiting for the explanation that had brought their brilliant tech to this unexpected conclusion. From where they sat, it looked highly unlikely at best.

"Think about it!" Patterson exclaimed. "Have you ever known Weller to let his personal feelings keep him from solving a case?" Reade looked at her pointedly, ready with a burning sarcastic comment, but Patterson was faster. "Reade, I know what you think about Jane's effect on Weller, from the very beginning, but that's not what I'm talking about. Despite however he may or may not have been different around her, however her presence may have changed his judgement, it never made him unwilling to solve a case." She let him think about that for a few seconds, then went on.

"If Weller understands that the only way to solve the case is to talk to Jane, then I really think that he'll talk to Jane. He won't like it, he won't want to, but I think in the end, he'll do it. He's always been much too committed to his job to let anything stop him from solving a case. Even himself." Patterson stopped, crossed her arms, and let the other two digest what she'd said. She just knew that she was right.

She had to be.

Slowly, the look of skepticism fell away from the faces looking back at her. Zapata even nodded at her, smiling slightly. Reade's expression bordered on hostile, as if he didn't want to admit that he agreed that it was possible.

"I guess there's only one thing left to do, then," Zapata said, hope creeping into her voice. "Let's go tell Weller that he's going to talk to Jane."

"Just don't stand too close to him when you say it," Reade advised sarcastically. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell Weller this news. "I'm not too sure how he's going to react." Nodding in agreement, the others also tried to imagine how Weller would react to this news. It likely wouldn't be pretty.

The three of them headed for Kurt's office, hoping that his mood had improved since the last time they'd seen him. This would be… interesting.