A/N:Sorry for the long delay in updating, guys. The new job has been keeping me super busy. I do have a lot more of this story written, but my muse has had me writing it out of order, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again. I'll do it ASAP, I promise!
You did this to yourself.
Those words—her words—echoed on a repeating loop in Jane's head as she sat on her couch hours after returning to her safe house, having quickly abandoned her efforts to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Carter coming toward her with that drill, the look of surprise on his face as Oscar shot him. And then her own face. You did this to yourself.
Just what was it she had done? she wondered now bitterly. What the hell had she gotten Kurt into? She had kissed him mere hours ago, but already it felt like a lifetime ago. Like she had been a different person then. Her future seemed more hauntingly uncertain than it ever had, but one thing had become glaringly obvious to her on her walk home: it didn't include Kurt. He deserved better than someone who had apparently cold-bloodedly targeted him for god only knew what purpose. She didn't even know how she was supposed to look him in the eye again, after all he had done for her. How was she supposed to face any of them?
She wasn't even aware she was crying until she felt the wetness from her tears on her cheeks. She curled into a ball and succumbed to her sobs, grieving not only the loss of her illusions about herself, but all that might have been with her and Kurt.
xxx
By the time Kurt arrived at the NYO, his good humor had faded. He was going to get answers out of Tom Carter if he had to choke them out of him. He stormed into Mayfair's office and handed her the photo Lida Carras had provided him. "You need to get Carter in here now."
Mayfair's brows had risen at his abrupt entrance, but her mouth tightened as she studied the picture and had her worst fears confirmed. "That's going to be a little difficult. Carter went missing last night. I got a call this morning that his car was found on a bridge with his ID in it."
"The CIA thinks he committed suicide?" Kurt was openly skeptical. Carter seemed to take too much perverse pleasure in his job to be despondent enough to end his life. "More likely, one of the enemies he's no doubt made finally caught up with him. Or he went on the run to avoid answering for his misdeeds."
"Misdeeds?" Mayfair queried. "And what would those be, exactly?" She chose her next words with care. "You have a decade-old photo of Carter having a talk with Taylor, Kurt. It's not exactly evidence of a crime."
"Lida said their conversation was heated," Kurt shot back. "That Taylor wasn't herself after that day. And look how tightly he's gripping her arm in the photograph. There was no good reason for my wife to know a man like Carter, Mayfair. He was definitely up to something."
"Be that as it may," Mayfair said, not yet ready to come clean about what she knew, "you have no real proof of that, Weller, and until you do, I expect you to keep this to yourself. Tom Carter is most likely dead, whether by his own hand or someone else's, so whatever his connection to Taylor, it's irrelevant at this point. Patterson came in early because she's on the verge of cracking another tattoo, so get back out there and do your job."
"Yes, ma'am," Kurt said stiffly, exiting her office without a backwards glance. If it was proof she wanted, it was proof he would find. It was only a matter of time. But for now, he had an even more pressing matter to attend to. He retrieved Emma Shaw's encoded journal from his office and headed to Patterson's lab.
"Hey, he greeted her, eyeing her with concern as he walked into the room. "I thought you were taking some time."
"I did," she responded quickly—almost too quickly—and Kurt's eyes narrowed.
"Patterson," he started, but she interrupted him once more.
"I don't need time or space," she told him vehemently. "I just need to do my job, okay?" She wished everyone would stop hovering and just let her do it.
He knew the feeling. He'd thrown himself into work after Taylor left him, but it had proved a hollow distraction for the pain of that loss. But Patterson would have to figure that out for herself. "Okay," Kurt conceded. "In that case, I have another puzzle for you to work on." He handed her the journal.
"What is this?" Patterson asked as she flipped through the book and found herself looking at page after page of what appeared to be handwritten gibberish.
"It's Emma Shaw's journal from the year she was pregnant with Taylor," Kurt told her. "Taylor gave her mother's journals to her college roommate for safekeeping, and she just returned them to me. We took this one to several top codebreakers, but they were never able to crack it. Maybe you'll have better luck."
Patterson's brow furrowed. "Do you think it has something to do with the case?"
Kurt shook his head. "I doubt it, but at this point, I'm not ruling anything out. Emma went to a lot of trouble to keep it secret for some reason. I'd like to know what that reason was, for my own peace of mind, if nothing else. And Taylor always wanted to know what it said."
"Are you going to tell Jane that you have these?" Patterson asked curiously.
Kurt thought about it, but he slowly shook his head. "No. At least, not just yet." He wanted to read through them again first himself, make sure they didn't contain any information he would prefer to share with her firsthand. "See what you can make of that one, and I'll go from there. And Patterson? I would prefer to keep this just between us for now."
"You got it," she said with a faint smile, intrigued by the mystery and already plotting out her first attempt to solve it. "I'll let you know the minute I figure it out." It never crossed her mind that she wouldn't succeed where others had failed.
"Thanks, Patterson," Kurt said gratefully, giving her another hug before he left her lab and went in search of Jane. He ran across her in the hallway leading to the locker room. "Morning," he greeted with a slight smile.
"Morning," Jane returned in a subdued voice. Kurt was so happy to see her that she felt even more guilty. She was a fraud, and he wouldn't even be able to bear to look at her if he knew the truth. And she would tell him that, she promised herself silently once again. As soon as possible. She just needed to meet with Oscar again a time or two and glean as much information as she could from him. She needed to understand what had turned her from the straight-laced small-town girl Kurt had described into the coldblooded killer her memories were telling her she had become. And as much as she hated lying to him—to all of the people who had become the closest thing to family that she knew—Oscar was the key to that.
"Jane," Kurt said, and she reluctantly turned to face him. "We should probably talk about last night. Obviously—" he glanced around, "—not here."
"I don't think we should follow my tattoos anymore," Jane said abruptly without commenting on his request.
Kurt couldn't believe his ears. "Why?"
"These cases keep getting more and more dangerous, and they already got David killed," she told him. "I mean, how much longer till someone else gets hurt?" How much longer till he got hurt—or worse? She couldn't bear it if she was the reason something happened to him.
"What about all the good that we've done, all right?" Kurt countered. "And not to mention the fact that these tattoos are the only way of figuring out who did this to you."
"I just—If something happened to you . . ." Jane trailed off, realizing she was revealing too much of herself, of her feelings, with that statement. She couldn't be with Kurt now, no matter how much she might want to, and she wasn't going to string him along in the hopes that she might one day be able to. He deserved someone better than her anyway. He deserved someone who wasn't a killer.
"I know what I signed up for," Kurt retorted without missing a beat. "We all know the risks." Though he found her concern for him incredibly touching. "If you don't want to come out in the field with us anymore—"
"No!" Jane interrupted hastily. "No, that's not . . ." She trailed off, taking several deep breaths as she tried to compose her thoughts enough to make him understand. "Don't you ever worry that we're playing right into their hands?"
Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, suddenly noticing the shadows in her eyes, the tight set to her mouth. It didn't look like she'd slept well either. Clearly something was bothering her, but before he could pursue the matter, Patterson approached them with that new tattoo lead and before he knew it, they were on a plane to the Dark Isles.
The flight to Turkey seemed interminable. Kurt had hoped to continue their conversation on the plane, but much to his surprise, Jane had taken the seat next to Zapata, leaving him to sit with Reade, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye for much of the first half of the flight. She seemed okay, if a bit pensive at times, and he felt a pang as he wondered if she was regretting their kiss. If so, it would explain why she hadn't returned any of his calls.
No, he told himself determinedly. There was another explanation. There had to be. She still loved him as much as he did her, even if she couldn't remember; he had felt it in that kiss last night. Whatever was going on with her today, it had nothing to do with them. And given all that she had been through in the past few months, the doubts she had expressed earlier were completely normal. She was okay; she had to be.
Reade, however, did not share his opinion. "Is Jane okay? She seems a little off," he asked as they explored the fuselage of Pan Asian flight 921 for any clue as to the whereabouts of the passengers.
"I asked her if she wanted to sit this one out," Kurt told him. "She said no."
"Jane's tough. She's never going to sit herself out," Reade retorted. "I'm just starting to see some cracks. If we push her too hard, she'll break."
Weller glanced back at him, but didn't respond, though Reade's words made him more determined than ever to talk to Jane at the first available opportunity. The truth was, he didn't know how much she could take. Taylor had never been tested like this, and Jane . . . Jane had been so tough since crawling out of that bag that he had come to see her as an indestructible force of nature. At least where their work was concerned.
But on a personal level . . . His heart broke a little as she implored him to come back as he and Reade prepared to go after the cattle prod they needed to power the sat phone the prisoners had been building. Her voice sounded steady enough to the casual observer, but he knew her well enough to detect the slight tremor beneath the outward calm, to read the fear she was trying so hard to conceal in the green depths of her eyes.
That fear was magnified tenfold as the Dabbur Zann marched her and the rest of the team into the room where he was being held captive. He kept his eyes locked on hers as she entered, trying to reassure her that he was okay. That they were all going to be okay.
And they were, thanks in large part to Jane herself. She freed herself from her bonds just as the lead terrorist was preparing to give the order to kill him and grabbed one of their captors' guns, shooting the men closest to him and then taking out the leader as the rest of the team sprang into action to subdue the rest.
They made it back to the hostages just in the nick of time to save them, and with their help, he and Jane were able to get aboard the plane. They took down the terrorists in the cabin, but unfortunately, they were locked out of the cockpit, and Kurt felt his heart sink as he pulled out his gun, realizing that there was only one way left to ensure that their plan didn't succeed. "One shot in the fuel tank. It'll cause an explosion big enough to bring this plane down."
Jane's eyes widened as she stared into his, and he gently grasped her hand. God, why hadn't he heeded his instincts and insisted she sit this case out when he'd had the chance? She was the most precious thing in the world to him, and he was about to end her life. Knowing they would die together once again was hollow comfort. "Look . . . Jane. I'm sorry that I brought you here, all right? I chose this life; you didn't. You never had a choice."
Jane felt her eyes grow moist at the pain in Kurt's voice. "Yes," she insisted, "I did." If anything, he was the one who hadn't. This was all your plan. But if they were going to die today, the least she could do was clear her conscience and apologize to him for whatever the hell she'd dragged him into. "Kurt—"
"I'm sorry," he said again, but just as he was preparing to take his shot, Patterson's voice sounded over the speakers, and the two of them looked at one another with identical expressions of relief.
Patterson's quick thinking saved the day once again, and Jane laughed almost giddily once she had safely landed the plane, Kurt chuckling a little as well in relief. They'd made it. They'd actually made it.
He was in no hurry to board a plane again anytime soon, but in short order he found himself on a jetliner back to the U.S. Fortunately, this time Jane sat with him, and she slumped over against him as the stresses of the past few days finally caught up with her and she succumbed to sleep. Kurt idly stroked his fingers through her hair as she dozed, when suddenly a memory from years earlier flashed through his mind.
xxx
Clearfield, Pennsylvania
March 2003
The movie they had been watching had ended fifteen minutes ago, but Taylor had shown no inclination to move—and he wasn't about to ask her to. Kurt idly began running his fingers through her hair as she remained curled up against him. He would have thought she was asleep if not for the slight hitch in her breathing as he did so. He knew this was dangerous territory, but for the life of him, he couldn't make himself move.
The two of them were becoming more and more like an old married couple, he realized. Well, minus the lack of sex, of course. They had adapted to wedded life with an ease he never would have thought possible when he'd proposed this arrangement. Taylor's maturity had helped with that, as she went out of her way to pull her weight in their relationship and always tried to see his point of view when they had their rare disagreements, and it had been quite some time since he could imagine his life without her.
"Kurt," Taylor said suddenly, interrupting his reverie. "We need to talk."
Kurt felt his smile fade at the seriousness in her voice. He had a feeling he knew what this conversation was about; he had been avoiding it for weeks. But it wasn't fair to either of them to put it off any longer. "I know."
"I'm going to be graduating soon," Taylor said quietly. "I think it's time we talked about initiating divorce proceedings."
The matter-of-fact way she said it tore at his heart. "Is that really what you want?"
She drew back to study his face. "Don't you? I thought sure you'd be ready to be ri—to move on with your life," she hastily amended at the wounded look on his face. "Find a girl, settle down, have a couple kids . . ."
Kurt shook his head. "I made a decision a long time ago to put all that on hold until I became an FBI agent." Though the love and marriage had already found him, albeit in reverse order. Not that he could—or would—admit that. He'd promised Emma Shaw that he wouldn't take advantage of the situation, and he would keep his word. "And you'll never be rid of me. No matter what, we're friends for life." He took a deep breath. "I think we should stay married for the time being. I think I should go to California with you."
Taylor was stunned. "What? Why?"
Because I love you. It was all Kurt could do to hide that truth from her as he met her eyes. "Well, I . . . I've given this a lot of thought, and it makes good financial sense. I applied to the San Francisco police academy once you decided on Stanford, and I found out I was accepted last week. That's close enough to the college for you to commute every day, or at least to come home on weekends if you'd rather stay in a dorm. And as my wife, you'd have access to my health insurance, if you needed it."
Taylor said nothing for a long moment, frowning slightly. "That's very kind of you, Kurt, but I don't want to stay married to you just so I'll benefit financially." She wanted to stay married to him because he'd finally realized he couldn't live without her. A vain hope if there ever was one. "I appreciate the offer, but—"
"No!" Kurt interrupted hastily. "That's one reason, but it's not the only reason." It definitely wasn't the main reason. "I just . . . you're my best friend, Taylor, and I hate the thought of you jetting off to a place where you don't know anyone all by yourself. I know you'll make friends quickly, and that you can take care of yourself, but you've never been more than a few hours' drive away, and I'm not ready for that to change. I . . . I'd miss you. And you don't have to worry about me holding you to the marriage any longer than you want. The moment you tell me, you've met a guy you're interested in and want your freedom, I'll call a lawyer and start divorce proceedings, I swear. Please, Taylor . . ."
Rather than reassure her, his words deepened the frown on her face. "And what about you?" she asked softly. "I know you said that you aren't ready for anything serious, but since we're moving away from a small town where everyone knows us, are you going to be seeing other women?"
"No," Kurt hastened to reassure her. "Call me old-fashioned, but even though our marriage isn't exactly . . . conventional, I take my vows very seriously. I'm not going to date anyone, even casually, until our divorce is finalized." And probably not for a very long time after that. He didn't know how he was going to survive seeing Taylor in love with another man.
"Me either," Taylor said shyly, her frown disappearing at the warm smile he shot her.
"So you'll do it?" Kurt asked hopefully. "You'll stay married awhile longer and let me come to California with you?"
Taylor's smile bloomed as she nodded. "California, here we come."
Kurt felt a dizzying sense of relief flood through him at her words. He knew this was probably a mistake, that he was only setting himself up for greater heartache in the end, but he would sooner cut off his own arm than give her up a moment sooner than he had to. His gaze flickered to her lips, and it was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her.
He settled for hugging her tightly to him once more, his smile widening as she rested her head on his chest.
Sex or no sex, he was the luckiest guy on the planet.
xxx
New York City
Present Day
Jane had disappeared on him the moment they returned to the NYO, and Kurt was anxious to catch her before she left for the night. They still had a few things to settle between them.
He found her in the locker room. "Mayfair told me she lifted your detail," he greeted her.
Jane turned to face him with a fleeting expression that almost looked like guilt and closed her locker. "Yeah. I, um . . . I requested it."
Kurt nodded as he approached her. "Jane, you and I . . . we need to sort out some things. There's a park. At the end of my street. Meet me there at ten o'clock."
Jane's eyes flickered down and then back. "Kurt—"
Whatever she was about to say was lost as Reade and Zapata interrupted them. He gave her one last lingering look before bidding them all good night and heading home.
Anticipation drove him to arrive at the park twenty minutes early. He waited for over an hour, but she never showed.