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

A/N: You guys continue to overwhelm me with your reviews. Thank you so much. Though I wrote what I thought was nearly all of the story before I started posting it, I'm continuing to add to it as I go back for what I'm sure will be "quick read throughs" (really there are no such thing with me, I'm not sure when I'll learn this). I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. And rereading it. And adding to it. Etc etc… :)

Jane sat back on the seat in the cubicle, trying to process exactly what had just happened. She couldn't remember Kurt acting that way with her since… well, since before. What exactly had brought about the change? Why had he been so insistent on helping her when he hadn't even know what was wrong… when she'd insisted that nothing was wrong? Why was he suddenly acting like he cared?

Because he knows you, the voice in her head said as if it was obvious. And despite how he's been acting, he obviously cares about you.

But the idea was too foreign to her, something that she could no longer reconcile with her reality, with everything that had come between them. So she sat there on the seat, staring at the wall in front of her and trying to work it all out in her head. Slowly, the sounds in the rest of the locker room died away, and she imagined that it must be almost time for the party to have started. Still, she couldn't bring herself to get up and leave the safety of her small sanctuary. She preferred it there, even though she knew that she couldn't stay.

Finally, when the room was perfectly silent, she stood up and gathered her belongings in her arms, pulled back the curtain, and walked through the empty room back to her locker, depositing her things inside and closing the door quietly. Before she left, she went around the corner and stood in front of the large mirror that was mounted to the wall, just standing there staring at herself until her eyes became unfocused and she stopped actually seeing herself, seeing only a fuzzy blob of black in front of her.

She heard his voice in her head then, for some reason. Come on, Jane, it said. You can't hide in here all night. Go and join the party. Sighing heavily, because she really didn't want to go, she decided that it was time to get it over with. Without stopping to look at herself again, she turned and walked toward the door, making her way to the elevator, her glittering heels making a tapping noise on the floor to which she was not accustomed.

Only a few minutes later, Jane stepped off of the elevator, looking around in astonishment. It wasn't like the bullpen area that she knew should be on the other side of the elevator doors. Was there some mistake? Because this simply couldn't be the same place that she'd worked for most of time that she could remember... even though she'd help to set this up, the transformation even since the last time she'd been there was incredible.

There were strings of tiny white Christmas lights everywhere. She had been one of the people helping to put them up, but she hadn't had a concept of how they would look once they were all turned on, and it surprised her. The lights lined the edges of the ceiling where they met the walls, then cascaded down the walls. They were wrapped around door handles, computer monitors, desks, chairs… All of the furniture had been pushed against the walls, creating a giant, open area.

The twinkling of what must have been hundreds – maybe thousands? – of those little lights cast a glow over the whole room that left her speechless. It was as if she'd stepped into a dream. Come to think of it, was she sure that this wasn't a dream? She'd been having her fair share of dreams – both good (which tortured her with what she didn't have) and bad (which just continued the psychological torture to which she'd decided would probably never end) – over the months since she'd escaped from the CIA black site. Hell, that run in with Kurt in the locker room not long before had been unusual enough that it all could have been some kind of strange dream.

"Jane!" she heard her name being called from somewhere nearby, but she was slow to react, as mesmerized as she still was by her immediate surroundings. She tried to focus on finding the person who was calling her, but she simply couldn't concentrate. The stress of the day and now the new stimuli was simply proving to be too much for her.

In addition to hearing her name, she also heard music coming from somewhere, but she couldn't immediately locate the source. Patterson no doubt had her hand in it, or at least Jane assumed so. And then suddenly it was Patterson herself, the one who had been calling her, who was now beside her and chatting a mile a minute. She was obviously excited and wanted to tell Jane all about it.

As Jane listened to Patterson, nodding along, she also kept her ears tuned into the music, which she determined to be a mix of Christmas songs – only a few of which Jane actually recognized – along with some other, non-holiday tunes. Most of those seemed to be slower songs, probably thrown in for variety. The effect of everything together – the lights, the music, the decoration and the festive atmosphere – was breathtaking, which was exactly why she'd barely said anything since she'd stepped off of the elevator. She was simply speechless.

"So," Patterson beamed, looking around. "What do you think?" When Jane recovered the power of speech, she replied, "It looks… amazing. I didn't even know that Christmas lights could do this…" There was actual wonder in Jane's voice as she looked around again, mesmerized by the glow in the room.

Patterson's wide smile was the biggest that any of them had seen on her face in a long time, which made Jane smile, too. "I always loved Christmas lights… in college I would leave them up in my dorm room all year. There's just something about them…" she mused happily. "And it just seemed appropriate for this year. You know, things have been so dark…" she paused carefully, giving Jane a knowing look. Jane's smile dimmed slightly and she nodded in agreement. "I suddenly saw a hint of light in all that darkness, and I wanted to be sure that you guys did, too."

Jane noticed that Patterson's eyes were suddenly suspiciously watery, and realized that her own were as well. The thought process that had gone into the decorations, into the lights and the candles… it was beautiful, and so very much like Patterson. The Patterson that she had first met so long ago, not the one who'd been so wronged by the events that had befallen her because of Jane's presence. Because both of those tragedies were my fault, Jane thought in dismay. David and Borden. Both of those were my fault.

Patterson watched in confusion as Jane's face, which had been alight with happiness a second ago, suddenly crumbled. "I'm sorry, Patterson," Jane said softly. Amid the din in the room, the blonde almost didn't hear her. Ever the puzzle solver, Patterson followed the thread of the conversation backward for the last minute and guessed at what Jane was apologizing for.

Hasn't this poor woman been through enough? Patterson asked silently. Why is she allowed to torture herself after everything else that's been done to her? Without hesitating to think about the fact that the Jane who had come back from the CIA a few months back might not react the same way to a hug as the one who she'd known before all of that, Patterson stepped forward and hugged her anyway.

"It's not your fault, Jane. No matter what it feels like. It was a thousand tiny things that just… happened. You can't put all of it on you any more than I can. And trust me, after David, I tried. But you can't do that to yourself. Nothing is that simple. Okay?"

Jane just nodded, still not believing her, but rearranging her face to put the mask back on, the one that she'd been wearing for a while now to hide her emotions from everyone – herself included. When Patterson released her and stepped back, looking at her appraisingly, Jane did her best to smile at her.

"You did an amazing job with the party," Jane told her, attempting to deflect the attention back off of herself. "You should be really proud." Her words were genuine, because Patterson had done an amazing job. And what she'd said about the lights before… the effect was exactly what she'd wanted, as far as Jane was concerned. Standing there with her, looking around, Jane was able to forget the darkness of her mind, of her life, for just a moment. That in and of itself was something of a miracle.

Patterson blushed and thanked her just as an agent that Jane only knew of vaguely walked up and said, "Um, Agent Patterson, we have a problem with the caterers." Smiling apologetically, she excused herself and took off across the room to solve whatever party related issue had come up. Jane's attention quickly drifted back to the lights and the buzz that surrounded her. She had the strangest sensation of standing in the middle of a busy gathering, and yet of being there completely alone at the same time.

After Patterson ran off to deal with the catering situation, Jane walked around the room in awe, admiring everything. There were quite a few – maybe six or seven – large, round tables set up off to one side of the room, adorned with white tablecloths, circular silver trays and, on those, thick white cylindrical candles of all sizes, which cast an even more intense glow on the tables. It was their office, and yet… it wasn't. Looking up in the direction of Kurt's office, she saw him, formally dressed but sitting at his desk, head bent over what appeared to be paperwork. She shook her head, sighing, a tiny smile on her face. Really, she couldn't help but smile when she looked at him.

Of course he's working, she thought. That was the flaw in Patterson's plan to hold the party in the office. However, she supposed that the other woman would put a stop to that as soon as she caught him in there.

You could go in and tell him to come out and join the party, the voice in her head suggested helpfully. In a way, she wanted to… but at the same time, she hesitated to interrupt him. She still hesitated around him a lot these days, despite how much better things had gotten between them since she'd come back. So much had happened to each other them, and between them, that sometimes, when she thought about it, it seemed like a wonder that they'd come as far as they had. And then other times, like now, it felt like there was still an ocean between them, one that she didn't feel like she had any right to try to bridge. No, she had made her choices. She didn't deserve a second chance.

But what if you do? the voice in her head asked. Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?

Looking away from him quickly, before he caught her watching him, she couldn't help but think miserably to herself that she'd already used her second chance. After all, being Jane had been her second chance. Hers… Remi's. Same thing. She had no right to ask him for anything anymore.

Are you sure? the voice asked her. Haven't you seen the way he looks at you? Especially when he thinks you're not looking… and what about the locker room just a little while ago. What exactly was that?

She felt a pain in her chest and her eyes closed against her will for a second. Forcing herself to breathe and then opening her eyes as if nothing had happened, the moment passed. Things were going as well as could be expected between her and Kurt – no, better than she had expected they could, all things considered. That was what she needed to focus on, to manage her expectations and not let herself hope that they would be anything more than what they were to each other already. Polite coworkers. He'd called her a friend not too long ago, but even that seemed too complicated. Maybe someday they could be what would be considered friends, but now… no, she couldn't let herself hope – it was too painful. She hadn't grown a thick skin over her heart yet, despite her best efforts, and she wasn't sure that she ever would. Maybe that ability had been erased along with her memories of the life that she no longer wanted to remember.

There were lots of people milling about – her team, but also other agents that she only knew by sight, not by name. Everyone was engaged in conversation, smiling at each other, talking, laughing, glasses and silverware clinking… The party seemed to be a great success. And Jane had the sudden feeling that she had to get out of there. Now.

She also had the same feeling that she'd had while talking to Patterson. The feeling that it was all her fault, but magnified by a thousand or more. The reason that these people needed this party, the reason they'd all had a year of Hell, was because of her. No matter how many times she was told that it wasn't her fault – and really, all things considered, she hadn't been told that that many times since she'd been back – she knew the truth.

You haven't heard it much because it is your fault, the voice in her head told her coldly. Anyone who says that it wasn't your fault is lying to you. It's your fault, and you know it.

Jane felt herself begin to panic. I can't do this… she thought suddenly. I don't belong here.

She saw Zapata and Reade across the room, teasing each other what appeared to be mercilessly. Patterson was surrounded by a group of junior agents, as if she was a rock star and they were her fan club. She didn't dare glance back at Kurt again, for fear he'd catch her looking at him. The other faces in the room, even the unfamiliar ones… the longer she stood there looking around at everyone enjoying themselves, the more she felt like she shouldn't be there. After all, look at everything that happened to these people because of her. And what about the many other people who weren't there, who hadn't lived to be invited. That was the thought that really got to her.

Deciding to move deliberately, but not too quickly, not wanting to attract any more attention than normal, she moved toward the far end of the room, where the hallway would take her away from the bullpen, which was the area that had been designated for the party. From there, she could slip into the stairwell and simply retreat without anyone seeing her.

Since she was pretending that she was just heading away from the party to go to the bathroom, if anyone asked her, she didn't look back over her shoulder. After all, people who were just going to the bathroom didn't care if anyone was watching them walk away. Because of this, she was already in the stairwell, about to tackle the first of many, many floors in her uncomfortable, sparkly heels, before she even realized that anyone was following her.

"Jane." The voice was close behind her. His voice. The door creaked slowly closed behind them, and the noise of the party disappeared.

Of course it was him. Of the few people who would have followed her – because the others on her team may have, if they'd really wondered what she was doing… but of course it had been Kurt who'd followed her. It figured.

She tried to compose her face into a smile, tried to formulate what she was going to say, all before she turned around to face him – which she did very slowly for just these reasons.

When her eyes met his, he was watching her, confused. "What're you doing? You're not leaving, are you?"

Of course I'm leaving, she thought miserably. I shouldn't have been here in the first place.

"I…" She'd just barely managed to cobble together a relatively pathetic story in her head when she'd realized that she'd been caught, but those feeble words simply refused to come out. After all, was she really going to lie to him? Hadn't she done enough of that? Besides, it wasn't as though he'd believe her even if she tried. He would simply know that she'd lied to him. Again.

"I just…" She tried again. This time, the truth. "Everything looks beautiful in there… and I know that Patterson and a bunch of other people worked really hard on it… I just…" Shrugging, she looked away from him, and suddenly her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't belong there."

She heard him move as he took a step closer to her, and she looked up in alarm. No, she thought. I need him to keep his distance. If he starts getting close…

Kurt saw the look of panic on her face, and it stopped him in his tracks. Why would she be afraid of me? he wondered. Things were… Well, admittedly things were still strained between them, and they probably would be for a while… maybe forever. But lately they'd both been going out of their way to do nice things for each other – little, inconsequential things, like bringing the other one coffee or holding a door open. Things that in and of themselves didn't have to mean anything. But what had happened earlier… it had felt like a breakthrough to him.

Maybe it was more terrifying than anything else, in her mind, he suggested to himself. After all, Jane's default is to retreat. Knowing this, he decided not to push too hard, but to try to find out what was wrong. He certainly couldn't let her leave this way.

Kurt thought back to the recent weeks that were mainly a blur of paperwork and tattoo cases in his mind, trying to week out his memories of Jane from the rest of it. Even now, Jane still seemed very reserved, and appeared surprised for just a second whenever anyone – himself included – said or did something nice for her. As if she hadn't expected that to happen anymore. It was hard to watch, but he supposed that they all deserved that. All of them had been through a lot over the past six months or so, but Jane had been tortured. Sometimes it seemed that she was still torturing herself, try as he might to do a better job at being a friend to her, to show her than he could be trusted. He knew that he'd done a crappy job of that initially, when she'd first come back, but dammit, he was trying now.

Are you really, though? he asked himself. Or is that just what you're telling yourself? Do you think it's been coming across that way to Jane? He sighed softly, because he supposed that it hadn't come across to Jane. He'd been so busy, he'd just sort of assumed that she knew what he was thinking. In his defense, there had been a time when she would have. But back then you also would have given her enough clues for her to figure it out, the voice in his head pointed out.

Freezing in place, Kurt put his hands up in front of him in a move of surrender, and the momentary panic on Jane's face slowly faded. For a minute he just watched her, worried. She reminded him of a scared animal who'd been cornered.

"Jane, you don't really think that… do you?" he said quietly, in disbelief. "Because it's not true." He sighed heavily, then continued talking. "I know that…" he started, but stopped. What was he trying to say, anyway? He took the few steps that separated him from the wall to his right, and turned to lean his back against the cold concrete, facing her but looking down at the floor for several long seconds. When he finally looked back up at her, he started again.

"I know that none of this… has been easy. And I know that no words can even begin to describe how impossible your situation is. If I were you, I would probably feel, I don't even know…" He exhaled in frustration, scrubbing his hands across his face and then back through his hair. "A million things and nothing at the same time. Every bad thing you can possibly think about yourself, right? And at the same time just… empty?"

She stared at him in horror, realizing that he had just described exactly how she felt. How had he known that, when she'd been trying for months to describe and it had failed miserably? What was worse, she had been trying not to let anyone knew what she thought or felt, which she had obviously failed at.

"I'm not saying that you should feel that, because I know what you're doing to yourself, and it's not fair to you. But that's what I would be thinking, I think." He smiled weakly then, adding, "And we always did kind of understand each other, somehow, even when it didn't make sense. Even though…" He stopped, looking at her and biting his lip.

Damn, he thought. I wasn't going to say that.

"Even though I wasn't Taylor, after all," she whispered, finishing his sentence. She stared at him for a few seconds and then looked away.

He shook his head to clear the thought from his head, going back to his point. "But at some point you have to stop trying to blame yourself for all of it," he told her. It was the first time since she'd been back that he'd said these words, either in his head or out loud, and meant them.

She nodded silently, and he noticed that she looked torn. She was still standing by the stairs, and he couldn't tell whether she would decide to bolt either up or down them any second, or whether he had managed to get through to her, to convince her to stay. More than anything, he didn't want her to just leave. He knew that he hadn't done a great job of showing it – apparently even worse than he'd thought, if she was sneaking out of the party – but he wanted to get back to a place where things were good between them. Whatever that meant.

It didn't matter that she wasn't Taylor – it never really had, he just hadn't realized it – she was Jane, and Jane was the one he needed in his life. These realizations had been slow and painful, but now that he'd had them, he couldn't get them out of his head. It was like what had happened that afternoon had flipped a switch, and reminded him that she was the same person he'd cared so much about before their worlds had come crashing down around them – both of them.

She was more than just one mistake. Or more than a collection of them, even. She was someone that he couldn't picture going on with his life without, no matter what he had tried to tell himself to the contrary.

Very slowly, she walked over to the wall and stood beside him, her back now also against the cold concrete. The difference was, of course, that he was wearing a shirt and jacket, and she was wearing a dress that was partially almost backless and sleeveless – that flimsy layer of sheer fabric that hid her scars barely counted as anything other than fancy camouflage. Consequently, when what was basically her bare skin touched the concrete wall, a chill ran through her unexpectedly and for a second the movement was visible. He noticed that despite this, she kept her back pressed against the wall.

She must be freezing, he thought, pressing his hand against the wall to confirm that the concrete was, indeed, very cold.

"I guess the wall feels pretty cold when you don't have a couple layers between you and it, huh?" he asked, trying to make conversation, because suddenly he was at a loss for anything else to say. She was standing beside him, having left only a tiny space between their shoulders, and yet it felt like they were looking at each other from opposite sides of the world. What made it worse was when she looked up at him and smiled sadly.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied quietly.

"Do you want to go back in?" he asked, nodding back toward the door that led into the hallway. Hoping.

"No," she replied quietly. "But you should. And you're not going to let me leave, are you?" she asked with a sigh. Without waiting for a response, she sank down to sit on the floor, stopping only to smooth out her dress beneath her, then leaning her back squarely against the wall with a sigh.

When she realized that the floor was freezing as well, she almost regretted her decision… except that she'd been through so much worse, feeling a little cold was nothing. Really, nothing seemed to bother that much since she'd been back – not hunger or cold or exhaustion or pain – after all, each of these sensations in normal doses was anything compared to what she had endured for three months. Now it was as though her senses were dulled, and normal feelings simply didn't affect her. She'd done the same with her emotions during that time, simply locked them away, and she was only slowly feeling them again. Except guilt. She felt that constantly.

Since she isn't going to go back in, he thought, and she isn't leaving… Before he could even finish his thought, he had taken off his jacket and was crouching down beside her.

"Sit up for a second," he said, holding his jacket up and waiting to slide it down behind her shoulders.

She shook her head in protest, and started to argue, but he silenced her with the look on his face. "Jane, it's cold."

"I've had worse," she replied, staring straight ahead.

"Jane, please don't be like that," he said softly. "You have nothing to prove to me, okay? No matter what the situation, you've been through worse. I know. I know very well that you could kick my ass if you wanted to… and you should, because God knows I deserve that and worse. And no, I couldn't stop you from leaving if you decided to leave. But…" he paused for a second, willing her to look at him. When she didn't, he sighed and simply continued. "I hope you'll stick around. Patterson went to the trouble of putting together a pretty great party, and I know that it means a lot to her that we're there. But that's not why I think you should – why I want you to stay."

She looked up at him in defiance. "So why, then?" she asked, more bluntly than she'd intended.

"Because… I'm selfish. I just hope you'll stay, because I want you to be here…" He paused uncertainly, and then added, "With me." They stared at each other for a few intense seconds, and then he continued. "And I know that I treated you horribly, and I have no right to ask anything of you at this point… I know that being angry with what happened was no excuse for the choices I made… that I've been making…"

Only then did she look up at him, confused. What he was saying simply didn't make sense to her. Why was it so important that she was there? Thrown off by his words, she sat forward, staring at him with a perplexed look on her face. He took advantage of this distraction and slid his jacket behind her, putting it down gently over her shoulders. Once that was done, he sat the rest of the way down, turning to lean back against the wall beside her. She kept looking at him, then turned to stare at the wall in front of them, only to turn and back and look at him in confusion once more a minute later.

"I don't understand," she said defensively. A minute passed where neither of them spoke, and then she added, "Why?"

"Why what?" he asked, equally confused.

"Why in the world would you want me to be here?" she replied.

He sighed heavily. The fact that she was so completely confused by him just then told him that he hadn't done a very good job of getting through to her, definitely not as well as he'd thought he'd done.

"I don't know how we do this…" he began slowly, looking at her intently for a reaction as he spoke. "I don't know how to… fix it. But I do want to, Jane. I know that the way we – I – treated you wasn't right. I meant it when I said I wanted us to move forward. I want…" He pursed his lips, thinking for a second. What he wanted might be impossible, and he didn't even know if he had the right to ask for such a thing, after everything. Settling on different wording than what he'd originally intended, he continued. "I just… I miss having you in my life."

The look in her eyes just then was a mixture of emotions that he couldn't read. Even she herself wasn't quite sure of what she was feeling as she turned to look at him for what felt to him like a long time before she replied. Once upon a time, he'd been able to read her, and even now, sometimes he could. There were glimpses of the old Jane, the one he'd known before everything had gotten so complicated. He wish he knew the right thing to do for the Jane in front of him, because she was obviously conflicted. He'd always seemed to know how to help the old Jane, the one who he could soothe by simply taking her hand. He missed that certainty. He missed her.

It went against every instinct and every urge inside her to trust him again. Hadn't she promised herself that she wouldn't trust anyone anymore? How could she survive if she couldn't keep herself safe? And how could she keep herself safe if she let someone get too close? If she let him get to close, especially. He wasn't just a stranger who had the potential to be a good person. No, he was her kryptonite. Their history already proved that he couldn't be trusted… didn't it? Or did it prove exactly the opposite?

You know that it's not that simple, Jane, the voice in her head said calmly. You both did some things to each other that the other has every right to find unforgiveable. But is that really how you want to live? Never getting close to anyone? Without him in your life? Ever again? Forget about keeping yourself safe for one second and really think about that…

Of course it wasn't what she wanted. Who would ever want to live the way she was – cutting themselves off from everything and everyone in the world and smiling as if everything was fine? No, it was a defense mechanism, and as much as she knew that, knew that she needed to at least try to deal with what had happened between them in the past… What it came down to was, she was just so tired of hurting, and this was the only way she knew to keep from being hurt. Because if she didn't give anyone the chance to hurt her, it couldn't happen. Right?

But aren't you hurting now? the voice asked calmly. Shutting him out isn't working and you know it.

Damn, I hate when you make sense, she told the voice silently.

She felt his eyes on her, knew that he was still watching her carefully, and knew that she was going to have to reply somehow… The worst part, of course, was that she felt exactly the same about him, and she had for some time now. She missed the days when he'd been a part of her life. Now they just existed in the same reality, saw each other every day, but it wasn't the same. They were both there, but not there at the same time, and it was even worse than if she didn't see him every day. After all, at least then she wouldn't have to be constantly reminded of what she'd thrown away.

You did this to yourself. At every turn along the way. And for what? she asked herself. Was it all worth it?

He didn't say anything, simply waited, watching her, knowing that she'd heard him and was simply processing it all. Nothing about Jane had ever been simple, but now, after everything they'd been through already, when he thought back to the early days, before he'd known about Sandstorm, it did feel as if it had been simple. Somehow he resisted the urge to reach out to her, wondering how long he could keep himself from doing so. Jane was good at so many things… and it appeared that torturing herself with her thoughts was one of them. Not that it wasn't understandable, after everything she'd been through…

Suddenly she spoke, her voice small and quiet. "Me, too," she whispered, and then as if she hadn't been holding herself back all this time, from him and from everyone else in the world, she leaned over just until her head rested on his shoulder.

It was the smallest of gestures, when seen objectively, but when Kurt felt her head against his shoulder, he couldn't help but feel as though somehow, between the two of them, they had moved a mountain. There was so much between them, and yet… there she was, leaning on him for support, something she had not allowed herself to do for a very long time. He was flooded with both surprise and relief, and a feeling of hope.

We've made it this far, he thought. Maybe.

A/N: Really, I have the thing about Christmas lights that Patterson was talking about. I love them. :)