The last thing Kurt wanted when he got to work the next morning was to sit down with Borden, but he knew better than to try to skip the session. He stalked over to the empty chair and took his seat, frustration pouring off him in waves. He should be looking into the intruder at Jane's safe house last night, not sitting here having a heart-to-heart about his feelings about it.
It didn't help his mood that his first instinct had been to rush over there to see for himself that she was okay. Sleep had been a long time coming last night.
"Good morning, Agent Weller," Borden greeted sympathetically. The man looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders this morning. "I heard about the incident at Jane's safe house. How are you doing?"
Kurt shrugged. "Think you should be asking Jane that, Doc. I'm not the one who was attacked."
"But you are the lead agent on her case, and she's someone you lo—care deeply about," Borden pointed out. "It would be natural to feel some sense of guilt for failing to prevent that attack."
Kurt's eyes narrowed at the doctor's slip of the tongue. "You think I'm still in love with Ja—Taylor?" he challenged.
That hadn't been what he said at all. "Are you?" Borden countered mildly.
Kurt glared at him. God, he hated shrinks. "Of course not. I just . . . She confuses the hell out of me," he confessed after a long moment.
"How so?" Borden asked.
"She's still so . . . so Taylor." Borden's face registered his confusion, and Kurt struggled to find the words to explain himself better. "What I mean is, she's exactly the Taylor I always felt she'd become." She'd always been kind and compassionate, but there was a maturity to her now, a confidence and a deeper consideration of the effects her actions could have on others. Case in point: her defense of Reade yesterday when he argued her tattoos could be a trap.
"It's funny, Doc; even in the moments when I was angriest at her, I never doubted that she was a good person. Misguided and impulsive, yes, but not bad. I even told her that yesterday. But . . . I don't know, I guess a part of me expected her to be different somehow. More cynical, more jaded, more . . . more . . ."
"More femme fatale, and less girl-next-door?" Borden supplied.
Kurt blew out a breath. "Exactly." Though he hated himself for admitting it, for entertaining that notion for even a moment. "I know it was awful of me to think that, but—"
"It's not awful," Borden corrected, leaning forward in his seat. "It's human. And it's entirely within the realm of possibility that she did turn out like that, and the amnesia erased that aspect of her personality. Or . . ." He locked eyes with Weller as he posed his next question. "Have you ever considered the possibility that she regretted her decision even before you received her letter, but saw no way to right the wrong she had done?"
He'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped she'd regretted it more than once. "Of course, Doc. But I tried not to let my thoughts go there. I didn't want to wish Taylor ill, and imagining her with another man, whether she was happy or not . . ." He shrugged. "I decided the best thing for me was to put it all behind me and move on." Though how well he had done that was debatable.
"I understand," Borden said quietly. "I hope you know no one here would think less of you if you decided not to pursue this case. In fact, if you need me to, I'd be more than happy to take the blame by telling Director Mayfair that I think that's what needs to happen."
"What I need," Kurt said deliberately, "are answers. And I'm not quitting until I get them."
"I understand," Borden said again. "The offer still stands if you need it. In the meantime . . ." he glanced at his watch, "we still have over half an hour left in our session. Would you mind—"
"Continuing my story?" Kurt finished with a slight laugh at the man's eagerness. "Sure, Doc." He paused for a moment to recall where he had left off. "We were both quiet on the ride to Taylor's house . . ."
xxx
Clearfield, Pennsylvania
January 2001
The house was dark when they stepped inside and Taylor shrugged at the questioning glance Kurt threw her as she started toward the kitchen. "Mom wasn't feeling well yesterday, so she may not be up yet, but if she is, she'll be in here."
That had always been Emma Shaw's morning routine: coffee before anything else. It was comforting to know some things never changed.
"Hey, Mom," Taylor greeted as she entered the kitchen, seeing her mom seated at the table with a steaming mug in front of her. "Look who's here."
"Kurt!" Emma's smile bloomed as she caught sight of him, and Kurt was relieved to see that she appeared much the same. A little tired, perhaps, but her color was good.
"Miss Emma," he said as she stood, hugging her gently. "What's this I'm hearing about you?"
Emma's smile was tinged with sadness as she drew back. "Taylor told you. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to deal with that today of all days." His mother had been more than a next-door neighbor to her; she'd been her best friend. It was hard to believe she had been gone three years already.
"I'm glad she did," Kurt assured her. "I know I haven't kept in touch like I should have, but you guys are family to me. I can't believe Sarah didn't tell me." He'd spoken to her at least once every day this week as he prepared for his visit home.
A shadow crossed Emma's face. "She doesn't know. She's had . . . enough going on lately that I didn't want to burden her with this."
Kurt frowned. "Has my dad's drinking gotten worse?" He couldn't imagine that he could drink much more without killing himself, but he'd thought that before, and his father had proved him wrong. "Is he being more abusive toward Sarah?" He had done his best to convince her to transfer to a college near him in New York, to no avail. He would never understand her unflagging loyalty to a man who hadn't had a kind word to say to her in years.
"He's been a little rougher on her lately," Emma allowed, not wanting to speak out of turn, but feeling Kurt needed a heads-up, so Sarah couldn't brush it off like she would inevitably try to.
"A little rougher?" Taylor burst out. "Last week when I was over there, he threw his empty beer bottle at her head and called her the spawn of Satan when she wouldn't go buy him another six-pack." The fact that she was too young to do so apparently never crossed his mind. "Which is ironic, considering he's her father."
"Last week. When you were over there," Emma repeated in a measured tone. "That's interesting. I seem to recall forbidding you to go over there more than a month ago. You have some explaining to do, young lady."
Kurt's blood, which had begun to boil at Taylor's outburst, now chilled to ice. If Emma had forbidden Taylor to visit his sister, things were indeed a lot worse than Sarah had been reporting to him. He'd sensed the cheery note in her voice had been forced of late. He should have come home as soon as he'd realized that. "I appreciate the information, Emma. Taylor—" he placed a finger under her chin and tipped her head up until her eyes met his, "—no more going over there without permission, all right?"
"Fine," Taylor muttered. She would just have to pull Kurt aside later and make sure he convinced Sarah to start carving out some time to come over here to visit her regularly. Their friendship was not going to be another casualty of Bill Weller's alcoholism.
Emma breathed a sigh of relief at Taylor's acquiescence. Her daughter was stubborn, but she had never been one to go back on her word. She decided to suspend the scolding she so richly deserved this one time. "Do you have time to stay and visit a few minutes?" she asked hopefully. "You know I'm not much at cooking, apart from my chocolate chip cookies, which I plan to make you later, but I can try to fix you an omelet if you like."
"No need." Kurt had taught himself to cook after their mother's passing out of sheer self-preservation. Sarah's attempts to take over in that department hadn't been pretty. "I'll whip us all one up." He headed for the refrigerator, ignoring Emma's feeble protests. "Consider it penance for not keeping in touch."
"In that case, as long as you do better in the future, we accept," Emma grinned, returning to her seat. She had always loved having a man cook for her. That was probably why she had been so susceptible to . . . She tamped that thought down as quickly as it had come, determined to keep the past firmly locked away where it belonged.
"I will. I promise. Besides," Kurt teased, "you'll more than be repaying me later with your cookies. You know they're probably my favorite food in the whole world."
"Don't I know it," Emma agreed. "You ate so many of them growing up I halfway thought you'd turn into one."
"What can I say?" Kurt shot back without missing a beat. "I was a growing boy."
"A growing boy?" Taylor asked as he began dicing vegetables for their omelets. "Is that what you were? You looked more like a bottomless pit to me." She shrieked with laughter as he dropped the knife and placed her in a headlock, ruffling her hair.
Emma smiled as she watched the two of them interact, relieved to see Taylor laughing and happy for the first time in far too long. She would have to try to convince Kurt to come around more often once she was gone. It would do her daughter a world of good to see him regularly. He knew firsthand the grief of losing a parent, and would be wonderful at helping Taylor through hers.
"How's college going?" she asked once the omelets were finished and they were all seated around the table. "Are you doing well in all your classes? Fighting the pretty girls off with a stick, or have you met a special someone?"
Kurt laughed. One of the things he had missed most about his college experience was having his mom around to ask him questions like that, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine that it was her voice. "Classes are going great, but I'm not seeing anyone at the moment." He dated casually, but he wasn't willing to settle down at this point in his life, and he was upfront about that with every girl he went out with. He wanted a family someday, but love and marriage and kids could wait until after he'd achieved his lifelong dream of becoming an FBI agent.
He sobered up quickly as he broached the subject he'd come to discuss. "We need to talk about Taylor. There's got to be a way to keep her out of foster care. She deserves better."
"I agree," Emma said softly, "but if there is, I haven't found a way. I've spoken to coworkers, teachers, counselors, friends' parents, and all of them have valid reasons why they can't take her. I'm out of options here, Kurt."
"Then I'll take her," Kurt said determinedly. "I'll move back here, and apply to be her foster parent. I can transfer to a college in Pittsburgh; that's not too long of a commute to make each day, and Taylor's responsible enough to look after herself if I get home late occasionally." It would be no different than any other teenager whose parents had to work late, and worlds better than the alternative, in his opinion.
Emma didn't know how to respond. "Kurt . . ."
"I'll take good care of her, Emma," he promised gently.
"I know you would, Kurt." There wasn't a hint of hesitation in Emma's voice. She had watched him grow from a boy to a man, and she knew what a big heart he had. This offer proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt. "And if I thought there was a chance in the world the state would let you take custody of her, I would consider it. But there would be so many hurdles for you to overcome, and I have such a short time left, that I don't believe it's a viable option. And even if it was, if we went that route, her caseworker could remove her from your care at any time. To be honest, I wish I could find a way to bypass the foster care system altogether."
"Which is exactly why emancipation should be legal," Taylor fumed. "If I didn't want to finish high school in Clearfield so badly, I'd be begging you to move me somewhere that does allow it. It's ridiculous that a girl can get married with her parents' permission at sixteen in this state, and be free to do as she pleases, but she can't live on her own at that age without a husband."
Kurt's eyes met Emma's as Taylor spoke, and a look of dawning awareness passed between them. Taylor might have unwittingly just provided them with a solution, however extreme. If it was something Emma would be willing to consider.
Emma sucked in a breath at the question in Kurt's eyes, and she held his gaze as she tried desperately to order her thoughts. She knew any reasonable parent would say no, knew she shouldn't even be giving this a second thought, but the situation was more complicated than that. She'd spent her whole life trying to shield Taylor from the consequences of the decisions she'd made in her youth, and now that she wasn't going to be around to protect her any longer . . .
It would be nice to go to her grave knowing that her daughter had someone in her corner who loved her enough to make a similar sacrifice for her.
Still, she couldn't ask that of Kurt. She was just opening her mouth to tell him that, to let him know how much she appreciated his offer but politely decline, when Taylor spoke up.
"Why are the two of you looking at one another that way?" Taylor demanded, glancing from Kurt to her mother and back again. The two of them were staring at one another so oddly that clearly she must have missed something.
Kurt read his answer in Emma's eyes, as well as her clear reluctance to impose on him in such a monumental way, and he took the decision out of her hands. "How would you feel about marrying me, brat?"
Taylor laughed a little, certain he was kidding. "That's really sweet, but I can't marry you, Kurt. According to Mom, I'm not even old enough to date yet. Right, Mom? Mom?" she asked again when Emma didn't immediately respond, her eyes widening as she realized what their looks had signified. "Oh my god, you're considering this!"
"It wouldn't be a real marriage," Kurt hastened to assure her. "Just a way to keep you in Clearfield and out of foster care until you graduate from high school."
"Yeah, but . . ." Taylor's voice shook a little, and she took a deep breath to steady it, hardly able to believe this was happening. "How would it work? You're still in college and neither of us would be able to hold down even a part-time job right now. How would we make ends meet? Where would we stay?" Even with Kurt there, she wouldn't want to live under the same roof as Bill Weller.
"I can help with that," Emma said slowly. "I own this house free and clear, so I can sign it over to you, Taylor, and I should have enough left in savings to tide you over until you graduate from high school, if you're frugal and both of you get summer jobs. Before I agree to do that, though, you and Kurt will need to put your heads together and figure out the logistics of this plan."
"Logistics?" Taylor queried, still shell-shocked by this rapid turn of events.
"Yes, Taylor, logistics," Emma said patiently. "Who's going to do the cooking? The cleaning? The laundry? I know you're not a fan of housework, but you can't expect Kurt to do it all. He'll have to leave for college much earlier than you need to leave for school, so how are you going to get there until you obtain your driver's license? Are you going to start divorce proceedings before you finish high school, or wait until after you graduate? And perhaps most importantly: you're both going to be essentially single even though you're married, so are you going to be seeing other people during that time or . . .?"
"Emma," Kurt said quietly, "I hope you know I would never take advantage of the situation."
"I do know that, Kurt," Emma assured him. "If I thought there was the slightest chance otherwise, I wouldn't even be considering this." A part of her hated herself for considering it regardless, but this appeared to be Taylor's last, best option to have the security of a loving home until she came of age. How could she say no to that? But the two of them still needed to work out a viable plan in order to walk away from this without hurt feelings. She would never agree to this plan if she thought there was a chance their friendship would be a casualty of it. "I'll leave the two of you alone to talk now. Present me with a well-thought-out plan for how this is going to work between you, and we'll discuss it further."
She hugged Kurt, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, and did the same for Taylor before exiting the room and leaving the two of them staring at one another, neither sure how to begin.
xxx
New York City
Present Day
The look on Borden's face when he stopped speaking . . . Kurt couldn't help the chuckle that burst forth from him as he took in the man's flabbergasted expression. "Not what you were expecting, huh, Doc?"
"No," Borden admitted. He'd assumed, based on what Agent Weller said yesterday, that he had been able to get custody of Taylor, with Emma Shaw's support and cooperation, and the two of them had begun to develop feelings for one another during that time. "So you actually did it? The two of you worked things out, and you got married before her mother passed away?" It was one of the most selfless things he had ever heard.
And it made the ending to their love story all the more tragic.
"We did," Kurt confirmed as he glanced at his watch. "I'll tell you more about it sometime if you want me too, Doc, but for now I need to get to work." He started toward the door and then paused. "I should probably mention . . . When Jane and I were talking yesterday, it came up that we didn't part on good terms. She doesn't know why, obviously, and with everything that happened to her last night, it probably won't even come up, but . . ."
"I appreciate the heads-up, Agent Weller," Borden said evenly. He hesitated. "I don't suppose you would reconsider telling Jane the truth about your past. It's bound to come out sooner or later, and it's better she hears it from you. I would hate for this omission to damage her trust in you. In the FBI."
He was rapidly coming to that same conclusion. "I'll talk to Mayfair," he conceded, nodding to Borden before heading back upstairs.
xxx
As he'd expected, Mayfair was not receptive to the idea.
"Absolutely not," she said firmly. "We had a deal, Weller, or have you forgotten already? If you don't want to abide by it, I'll be happy to shut this investigation down now."
"She's part of this investigation; she should be included," Kurt countered. "The whole team should be. What if this factors into the reason she was sent to us? What if knowing the truth triggers a memory that breaks this case wide open?"
"Assisting this investigation," Mayfair corrected. "How can you suddenly be so sure we can trust her? Have you forgotten what she did to you? For all we know at this point, she could still be a part of this plot."
"She's not," Kurt said firmly. "She's not a part of this." He would stake his life on it. "And Borden thinks toying with her will damage her trust in us when the truth inevitably comes out."
"And what if you're wrong?" Mayfair had expected that they would have to rehash this issue, but she couldn't believe that they were having to do it so soon into the investigation. "From the moment she left you nine years ago, everything about this woman is a mystery. No. We need to wait."
"I'm not wrong," Kurt told her, but before he could pursue the matter further, he spotted Jane watching them through the glass doors, holding an ice pack to her jaw, and he strode out of Mayfair's office to check on her.
He would have to take this up another time.
xxx
By the end of the day, Kurt was convinced Mayfair had been right. It was too soon to come clean with Jane about their past, when her every word and deed today had screamed her distrust of them. Of him. Hearing her tell him that the bearded man had told her not to trust them, and seeing in her eyes that she believed the them to be the FBI—to be him—had been like a knife to the gut. He was ready to go home and wash this day away with a large glass of scotch, but first he had to debrief with the team. He rubbed his forehead wearily, mentally reviewing today's events as he headed into the conference room.
Jane had lied to him.
It had stung, coming right on the heels of his assuring Mayfair they could trust her, to realize she didn't have enough faith in him to tell him what the bearded man said to her in her apartment. To hear her outright deny that he had said anything to her. He had chalked that up to her lack of memories of the two of them, told himself that she only needed a little more time to come around.
But then she had disobeyed orders and nearly gotten herself killed.
He could still taste the fear he had felt when he realized she had left the car, that she had gone after a ruthless group of ex-Navy SEALs alone and unarmed. He had been so relieved to find her alive and unharmed that he hardly cared that they had gotten away, though the scolding he had given her wouldn't have indicated that.
What would have happened to you today if you got hurt? If I lost you?
What would have happened to him? He'd lost her once already, let her walk out of his life without so much as a backward glance, and he was still struggling to pick up the pieces from that. If she had been hurt—or killed—on his watch . . .
He would never forgive himself.
He'd begun to realize the validity of her request for a gun in that moment, though he argued against it, but it wasn't until they came under siege at the hospital that he fully acknowledged how dangerous it was for her to be out in the field unarmed. Something he hoped to remedy shortly.
He bided his time while the team discussed the events of the day and theorized on what Orion could be. "Just once I would like to know something for certain about this case," Mayfair exploded in frustration when Reade told her that Jane's attacker was another dead end.
Kurt saw his opportunity. "I know one thing for certain," he said as he walked toward her. "Jane is an incredible asset. So we need to come to some sort of understanding about her role with us. Because making those decisions on the fly has been less than successful." He took a deep breath as he glanced at his team and then launched into his reasons for bringing her on as a consultant. An armed consultant.
It took some convincing, but his arguments won the day.
xxx
First Daylight, now Orion.
Mayfair watched Jane leave her office, now officially a part of the team, and took her first deep breath since Zapata had mentioned that name. It was one she'd hoped to never hear again in this lifetime, and it was beginning to appear that whoever was behind this was targeting her biggest failures, her most regrettable mistakes.
Not that her Orion and the Orion Casey had mentioned to Jane were necessarily one and the same. As Zapata had said, the name itself was insanely vague.
Still . . .
She hadn't got this far in her career by ignoring coincidences. She wasn't even sure she believed in them. Everyone from her Orion was supposed to be dead, but given the clusterfuck that operation had turned into, something could easily have been overlooked. It certainly wouldn't hurt to make sure. She needed to know what she was dealing with here. What danger her team might be facing if remnants of that old operation had resurfaced.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the table as she nodded to herself, her mind made up on her next course of action.
It was time to start looking into Emma Shaw.