Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
Jane's head was leaned against his shoulder, and for a second he held his breath. If someone had told him that this would have happened tonight, or any day in the foreseeable future for that matter, he would have told them that they were far too optimistic. He hadn't been sure that they would ever get to that point, and certainly not any time soon. And yet… he wasn't just imagining it. Her head was on his shoulder.
Looking down at her, it was clear that she was focusing very hard on breathing evenly, her breaths betraying the anxiety that she felt but was trying not to show. With her head resting against him, he decided that maybe he could now reach out to her, as he'd been wanting to do for a while, without making her back away. It was a risk, of course, but at the same time, he suddenly felt like he knew her again. Maybe she wasn't the same person she'd been in the beginning, but then again, neither was he. And maybe that was okay.
She smiled despite herself. It had seemed like such a monumental thing to let herself lean against him, but now that she'd done it, she remembered why his touch had always made her feel so safe before. It wasn't anything she could describe, it was just… Kurt. Having long ago done her very best to forget this feeling of peace, of safety, for her own good, her system was suddenly flooded with it, and the effect was an overload of her senses. And yes, it scared the hell out of her, but at the same time it was possibly the best feeling ever. Looking down in her lap, she saw that her hands were still clenched together nervously. Though she attempted to send them a signal to tell them to relax, they continued to fidget. So instead, she focused on her breathing, which was still a little too fast – it matched her thundering heart.
He was watching her carefully, trying to read her body language to determine her state of mind. Leaning her head on his shoulder was a big deal for her, he knew, but even so, he wanted to be sure he didn't read too much into it and do something that would make her retreat. Now that her head was there, he didn't want to do anything that would startle her or that would make her sit back up.
The other main thing that he noticed was that her hands were fidgeting in her lap, gripping each other tightly. Her white knuckles were proof of how much effort she was expending on remaining outwardly calm just then, despite what was likely a storm of emotions going on inside her. It was strange how all of a sudden, he felt like he understood her again.
Without moving too much, so that he didn't jostle her head on his shoulder, he slowly reached his right hand towards her and placed it on top of her left. He didn't try to untangle her hands from each other, simply covered hers with his own. The effect was the same, however, and within a few seconds her clenched hands began to separate from each other, as if by magic.
And maybe it was magic, because despite the tension she had felt just a few seconds before, despite the stress of allowing herself to let down her guard enough to lean on him, literally and maybe even a little bit figuratively as well, her hands simply let go of each other. She watched in surprise as her fingers responded to the warmth of his hand on top of hers. After all, they hadn't responded to signals from her own brain, and now they had surrendered voluntarily to his slight touch. Then, as she continued to watch in fascination, as if her hand was acting on its own and she had no control over it, she saw her left hand hesitantly turn over towards his. His fingers interlocked securely with hers, fitting perfectly together – as if they'd always meant to have been there. She felt a strange sensation in her chest – the best she could have explained it was that she swore her heart was tightening and yet exploding at the same time. Her fingers tightened just a little around his, and seconds later he squeezed back in response. When she inhaled her next breath, she felt it shaking.
Just keep breathing, she told herself, but heard it in Kurt's voice in her head instead of her own, which made her smile.
He didn't try to move her hand, simply left their joined hands laying against her left leg as they sat there beside each other. Not entirely convinced that he wasn't dreaming, he focused on the two points of contact between them – her head on his shoulder, and their joined hands. This was real. It was so far beyond what he'd expected, or even known that he'd wanted, that it was hard to process. Slowly, he shifted his hand just enough that he could reach his thumb into her palm and move it slowly up and down, from her wrist, all the way to the point where their fingers were interlocked and back, over and over.
His thumb was trailing slowly across the palm of her hand, leaving a trail of nerves that felt like they were on fire in their wake – in a good way. The sensation was soothing but at the same time made her heart thump wildly. Could he possibly know what effect he was having on her? She would have said no, except… of course he knew. He always seemed to know. That was part of the effortless connection that had been between them… before. Was it still there, somehow? It seemed like too much to hope for, and yet… wasn't the feeling she had as his thumb traced across her palm proof enough?
For the first time since she'd laid her head against him, her face relaxed into a small smile. Yes, in a way she was terrified… but in another way, it was as if her heart was bursting with happiness. She begged herself not to feel that way, to be so happy. After all, the happier she felt right now, the more it could shatter her in a matter of seconds from now. At any second, it could all end.
Is that any way to live? she asked herself bravely. Still, trust was just not a thing that she could give him easily, no matter how much she wanted to.
Breathe, she reminded herself again. Don't go any farther ahead than this moment. This second. Breathe. Give him a chance. Hell, give yourself a chance.
And so, gradually, her breathing slowed to a normal rate. Her heart was still beating loudly in her chest, and the more she quieted her thoughts, the louder she heard it. It made her smile gradually increase until she realized that she didn't remember the last time she'd smiled so hard.
They were close enough together that he noticed when her breathing seemed to slow to a more normal rate, and he couldn't help the smile that crept slowly across his face. He hadn't dared to let himself even hope for this much, but here they were.
Basically, they were both smiling like idiots.
"You know," he said softly, feeling as though even such a low voice was disturbing the quiet of the moment between them. "If we don't go back in there, Patterson's going to start combing the surveillance footage in the building to find us. And Zapata… well, she'd already had a few drinks when I saw her a few minutes ago, so I wouldn't put it past her to start a rumor that we were in a closet making out somewhere, just for fun…" He bit his lip, grinning devilishly and waiting for Jane's reaction. He hoped that it would lighten the heavy, though not unpleasant, mood that had descended around them. It was the kind of banter that hadn't existed between them in a long, long time.
To his relief, she turned her head just enough so that she could glance up at him shyly, revealing the smile on her face but taking care not to remove her head from his shoulder. She liked it there. "Yeah," she replied just as quietly, "somehow I think I can see both of those things happening…" Then, after a pause, she asked, "But… do we have to? Because I'd rather be right here." Hearing her say that, he couldn't help but smile even wider, turning his head to lean his cheek against the top of her head. Not only was she not pulling away, she was reluctant to break contact.
"Me, too," he whispered, thinking that this whole thing was too good not to be a dream. After a pause, during which he considered how exactly to say what he wanted to say without possibly overwhelming her and thereby destroying the moment they were having, he continued. "But we could always do this again… maybe not here in the stairwell, but… I don't know, somewhere more comfortable… you know, where there's chairs or a couch. Just… sit and… possibly, talk… Later…"
He wasn't even sure exactly how he'd wanted the words to come out, and he wasn't sure that that was the best way to say it. All he did know was, he wanted to convey to her how he felt, even though he felt like he was doing a terrible job putting it into words. He just knew that despite how much he would have loved to, they couldn't sit in the stairwell, missing their Christmas party, for much longer. It was a shame, really, because at that moment, he could have stayed just like that forever. Well, maybe not forever, but for a very long time. For as long as she wanted to.
"I'd like that," she said quietly. However, within seconds she shifted, tensing up again, and he wondered where her thoughts had just gone, and what had just changed. Something had just ruined the peace of the last few minutes, and he had a feeling that it was what he'd said. Of course, he hated that he'd had to say anything, but it was the truth. They would be missed if they didn't return shortly.
In reality, it was only partially what he'd said. It had occurred to her that while he would definitely be missed, she most certainly would not.
"You go back," she said, lifting her head slowly, reluctantly. "You're the one whose absence they'll notice. No one expects me to be there." Or wants me to be there, she added in her head. "I'm just going to—"
"No," he said, more firmly than even he'd expected. She had attempted to let go of his hand, but he held it firmly. "I'm not going to let you tell yourself that you don't belong here, with us. Because you do, Jane." He knew that she had a lot of doubts about herself, most of which were completely unjustified, but he was putting his foot down.
He shifted so that he was no longer facing the same direction as her, but instead was facing her. He stared down at their joined hands, now holding on tighter so that she didn't try to pull hers away again, appearing deep in thought. He sat there like that for almost a minute before he started speaking, not looking up at her. She, on the other hand, had hazarded a glance at him and, finding that his eyes were not on her, was now focused intently on him. Somehow it was easier that way.
Finally, he spoke. "I know that nothing about your life has been fair to you. And we haven't been fair to you, either. You deserve so much better than all of this."
There was misery in his voice, along with regret, exhaustion… so many things that she hated to watch him putting himself through. As soon as he started speaking, she felt a stab of pain in her heart. After all, this was because of her. He shouldn't have to bear this burden.
And he would say the same thing about you, the voice in her head reminded her, but somehow she was able to reject this side of the argument and feel sympathy only for him, not for herself.
He continued speaking before she could think of a way to respond, other than to focus on the fact that their hands were joined tightly as she stared at him. "And you have it in your head that you're a terrible person, and that you don't deserve another chance… but that's just not true. You aren't a terrible person. You're a more decent person than most of the people I've ever met. I wish that I had done things better. I wish…"
His eyes fell closed and his face was immediately pained, thinking back on all of the things that he wished they had done differently – that he wished that he had done differently. Suddenly he was overwhelmed, and it was hard to breathe. "You do deserve another chance." He sighed quietly, suddenly at a loss for what else to say, not knowing if she would believe any of it. After all, she was at least as stubborn as he was.
There was a clenching sensation in her chest, and she felt herself tensing up as she once again reminded herself to breathe in and out. She hadn't expected the outpouring of emotion from him, and it was hard to process. So much of what he'd said went against everything she'd assumed, everything she'd told herself… and now her mind felt torn between remaining separate from this life, from him, and letting herself trust him, and all the rest of them, again. She wanted to, and yet… she knew all too well how much it hurt when she lost it.
"I know that I can't just say a few words and it fixes everything magically," he said quietly, finally looking up and watching her stiffen as now it was her turn to refuse to meet his eyes. "I know that it's not that simple. But just… just come back into the party with me. Please. Just… just come and have a drink and maybe something to eat, and just sit with everyone and… just be there. It doesn't mean that everything that has happened is erased or that you have to forgive us or… that it's all just okay. I know that it's not. You have every right to want to run away from it all, or even to hate us." He glanced down again, and then back up, adding, "Me most of all. But…"
He could feel desperation seeping into his voice, despite his best efforts to stay calm, and to his frustration, his eyes felt suspiciously moist as well. In any other situation, this would have simply infuriated him enough to make him stomp away. But this was Jane, and even after everything they'd been through – no, maybe because of everything they'd been through – he didn't mind letting her see whatever emotion spilled out of him. Maybe she needed to see it. Maybe it would help her understand how serious he was about what he was saying, and that she wasn't alone in feeling broken, like she always seemed to assume.
"…I hope you won't," he finished, his voice dropping to almost nothing.
She looked back up at him then, their eyes finally meeting again. If she didn't know better, she'd say that Kurt looked like he was about to cry. She'd never seen him cry, she didn't think… though with everything he'd been through, it really wouldn't be much of a surprise if he did. Maybe that's just how much he means what he's saying, she mused. Could it really be affecting him this much? She was so tired of overthinking everything, of analyzing it all to death, of pushing everyone away – of pushing him away most of all – when all she wanted was to do the exact opposite. But…
All she could think was that she was just exhausted, and she didn't want to fight the urge to trust him anymore. The scars on her body were healing very, very slowly, though they were still very much present under her strategically chosen dress. She needed to be able to say the same for the scars on her mind, as well, she realized. But if she took the chance and ended up hurt all over again… it would be so much worse.
But what do you prefer? the voice in her head asked. Staying safe and unhappy, or taking a chance at being happy?
She looked down, away from him, remembering.
Suddenly she was standing outside a panic room, saying something similar. Stay inside, stay safe. Jeffrey Kantor had fallen for this bait, had been lulled into a false sense of security, and when he'd come out of the panic room… well, he hadn't lived much longer.
It's not the same thing and you know it, the voice said in exasperation.
She looked back up at him then, at the worry in his face, mixed with so many other emotions. There was no way to know for sure in advance. There would be no way to know if she never took the chance.
You can maybe be safe, or you can maybe be happy. Neither are guarantees. You probably won't be happy staying safe, not that way, because it means being alone. As for being happy… it may or may not work, but you may also end up being safe – and not the kind of safe where you're alone. You'll never be sure. It's just another fork in the road where you have to choose. Her head hurt from trying to analyze it all to death.
She'd made so many wrong choices already… how could she trust her own judgement?
He could see that her mind was wandering, and that she looked anxious. Just wanting to get her attention back once more, he said the only word he could utter at that moment. "Jane…."
When he said her name, she heard it as if from far away, but her mind rushed quickly back to the present, and there he was in front of her once more. She was staring into his eyes, and he looked at her worriedly.
"Okay," she replied quietly, attempting a smile but knowing that her face may or may not have cooperated. She was rewarded with what may have been the most endearing look of surprise and relief that she'd ever seen on his face.
He moved back until he was halfway between where he'd started out sitting, beside her, and where he'd been across from her, so that their knees were touching and they formed a right angle between them. He couldn't decide which he preferred, only knew that being near her felt… peaceful.
As soon as he stopped moving, she turned and leaned against his shoulder again, this time with her forehead instead of just the side of her head. He, in turn, also turned slightly towards her, and without overthinking it, as he would have if he'd hesitated for even a second, he dropped her left hand from his right and put both arms around, pulling her into a hug. It took her by surprise and she stiffened immediately, before she realized what he was doing. It wasn't just that this was something that they hadn't done in a very long time, though it was also that.
No, even though she'd been back for months, she could probably count the number of times she'd had physical contact with anyone else – other than being strapped into a lie detector or something similar – on one hand, maybe two. They all involved Shepherd – whose hugs had been, despite the mother daughter relationship, rather terrifying, because Jane knew all that the woman was capable of – and Roman, who was only slightly less frightening, despite being her only blood relative.
The thing was, though, that neither of them had been hugging Jane – they had been hugging Remi, the woman that they remembered and she didn't, and she wasn't that person anymore. It was hard to explain, but it was very different. It was the epitome of the issue of someone liking you for who you are – literally. Jane was fairly sure that Kurt was the first one who had hugged Jane since her time with the CIA, even though she'd been Jane through all of the rest. It seemed fitting, since he was the first one who'd hugged her when she'd first become Jane so long ago.
He was about to drop his arms from around her when he realized that she had relaxed, and that her hands had moved tentatively to his waist, though not all the way around his back. At that very moment she whispered, "You do too, you know."
"I do what?" he asked calmly, not moving from where he'd settled against her, his arms around her back.
"Deserve a second chance," she whispered. "I know that you don't think you do any more than I think I do… but I guess we're both wrong." Her words had caught him off guard, and all he could do was focus on inhaling slowly and deeply, and then exhaling the same way. For some reason, it meant more to hear her say this than it would have if it had come from anyone else.
Well you haven't heard it from me, came her words from long ago, echoing forward through time in his head. It wasn't your fault. He just stopped for a second, staring at her, a smile forming very slowly on his lips.
How can she be real? he wondered. How can anyone who embodied everything that he didn't deserve in life be real?
He didn't reply, but she felt his arms tighten around her back, pulling her closer, and that was enough. "I've missed you," she told him softly.
Relaxing again immediately and feeling like an enormous weight had been lifted from him, he felt a lurch in his chest at the simple truth of her words. He felt it so deeply because they echoed his thoughts as well, and he inhaled slowly, attempting to steady himself and to memorize this moment, this feeling. He was still in awe – he'd never thought he'd be here – or anywhere near here – after so much heartache.
"I've missed you, too," he whispered – because how could he not tell her something so important? It was the truth, something that he probably should have told her before. What he couldn't tell her, because there weren't words that would allow him to do so, just how much he had missed her. Still, somehow he thought she might just know.
After another minute of sitting very still, just savoring the moment that they had stumbled on so unexpectedly, he felt her shift. "You're sure we can't just stay here?" she asked him without lifting her head, sounding serious. "Because this is the happiest I've been in a long time."
He chuckled, pulling her just a little closer before relaxing his grip on her. "Unfortunately, I'm sure we can't stay here," he replied. "Unless you want to have half of SIOC joining us here not too long from now…"
Slowly pulling her forehead off of his shoulder, she looked up at him hesitantly, not knowing exactly how she would feel when their eyes finally met. When they did, she felt… relief. Comfort. It was like she was looking at him for the first time in a very, very long time, and as soon as she identified the feeling, it made her smile harder than she had in ages.
It had been a long time since he'd seen her smile like that. A genuine smile, not forced or masking her pain, but one that showed real happiness. Just seeing her smile like that, he couldn't help but feel a happy glow spreading through him as well.
"Come on," he said, letting his arms slowly drop from her shoulders. He pushed himself up off of the cold concrete floor, and then reached both of his hands down toward her to help her up as well. For a split second she just looked up at him, slightly mesmerized by the look on his face… Once again, he was looking at her with the smile that had always been for her and her only. It had been a long time since she'd seen it, and she was almost afraid to look away, for fear that she wouldn't get another chance.
Don't be silly, she told herself, and reached up to let him help her off of the floor. As she angled her arms upwards towards him and he pulled her up, his jacket began to slip off of her shoulders. Just as she steadied herself on her feet, he let go of one of her hands and grabbed at the jacket that was about to fall to the floor. He caught it, and his hand remained there, on her back, as his other hand slowly came up to move the jacket back into place. Even through the fabric of the jacket, she could somehow feel the warmth of his hand on her back – or maybe she was just imagining it because she liked the idea so much. Either way, she looked up at him, continuing to look into his eyes, finding that she was unable to look away.
She was conscious of the fact that they were about to leave the stairwell and re-enter the area where there would be eyes on them, and she knew that wearing his jacket over her shoulders would not go unnoticed. Even so, she smelled his cologne on the jacket and inhaled deeply, momentarily forgetting to be anxious. The only explanation for what was happening was that she was dreaming. Whatever it was, she hoped that it wouldn't end anytime soon.
However, as she looked away from him, she was suddenly unsettled again… because in her mind, going back to the party was somehow equal to the end of this perfect moment, of this… whatever it was between them. Going back to the party meant going back to reality. And the reality that had existed just before she had escaped into the stairwell wasn't one that she wanted to think about. To being back in that roomful of people who she'd hurt not only with her presence here at the FBI, but also with her actions.
The stress she was feeling was beginning to show on her face. "Jane," he said, and then waited for her to look at him. When she did, the hand that was still on her back moved up to her shoulder and squeezed slightly. He tried to think about what he could say to calm her down, but settled for just looking into her eyes. Even just by doing that, she seemed to settle back down, her breathing beginning to return to normal. Finally, he smiled at her. "Okay?" he asked.
She nodded slowly, her smile returning. Somehow, he always knew what to do – even now. His hand still on her shoulder, he stepped forward and leaned the rest of the way to open the door leading from the stairwell back into the hall, and the lights from there, along with the noise of the party, flooded their ears as soon as he did. He squeezed her shoulder again gently through his jacket, and she turned and moved forward through the door. Glancing down as she re-entered the hall, she felt more than a little self-conscious about coming out of the stairwell with Kurt, wearing his jacket. Once she was through the doorway, she looked back up to find the immediate area deserted, and breathed a sigh of relief. Kurt stepped through after her, his hand slowly falling from her shoulder. Immediately she felt the loss of the contact, as indirect as it had been through his jacket. Stopping for a second as he stepped up beside her, he glanced in the direction of the party, and then back at her, smiling once again – that smile that filled her with such warmth.
"You're coming with me, right?" he asked, wondering if she'd suddenly changed her mind. As he watched, she glanced ahead of them down the hall toward the noise, and then back at him, repeating the motion several times before her eyes settled on him and she nodded. "Yeah," she replied, but looking far less than sure.
He had the urge to take her hand again, but he wasn't sure whether walking into the party holding his hand would have made her even more self-conscious, and therefore more anxious instead of less. "I forgot to tell you," he said softly, trying a different technique instead, "you look beautiful tonight." She smiled, blushing immediately and looking down at the floor.
"Thanks," she replied, but then almost immediately her face changed, and she looked pained. "If it was just the tattoos, I wouldn't have bothered with all this…" she gestured to the gauzy fabric that made up the sleeves and wrapped around the form fitting black dress. "But my arms and my back, well…" Shaking her head, she stared hard at the floor, biting her lip. "I remember when I thought the tattoos were bad," she said in almost a whisper. "What I wouldn't give to only have the tattoos to worry about…"
When she looked up, she saw that his face was now just as pained as hers, and she realized the effect that her words had had on him. She knew that he blamed himself for what had happened to her. She had blamed him as well, for a while, but now… fault didn't change anything, and she was getting better at letting go of things like blame. Besides, the things that she had done were what had led her there, as far as she was concerned, and not his actions. Either way, she had to begin to let go if she wanted to move forward – which she did. It was hard to remember that maybe he was having more trouble doing that than she was, but at that moment, that was exactly what it looked like.
"I didn't mean…" she started, then exhaled loudly, shaking her head. She really and truly sucked at this – "this" being interaction with people, as far as she was concerned. "I'm sorry," she said instead, now unable to look at him.
"Let's not do that, okay?" he said softly. "We've been down this road. We know where it goes." Nodding, she looked back up at him and smiled sadly.
I really can't get anything right, she thought miserably. Not even when he's being nothing but nice to me.
"Let me try this again," he said in the same warm tone in which he had told her that she was beautiful, then cleared his throat. That was enough to get her attention, and she looked up at him, curiosity winning over awkwardness. "You look beautiful tonight." After a pause, during which she said nothing, simply looked at the floor awkwardly, he added, "Now you smile, take the compliment and know that I meant it, because you do look beautiful, you say 'thank you,' and we go back to the party. Okay?"
Despite the anxiety that had surged in her again, his words were soothing, and she couldn't help but smile. He makes it sound so easy, she thought. "Okay," she whispered, then added, "Thank you." Then, looking at him steadily for a few seconds, she added, "Now, could I please give you your jacket back?"
He knew very well that she would have felt awkward walking in with his jacket on her shoulders unless he'd rescued her from freezing temperatures or something equally dramatic, so he smiled and nodded slightly, taking pity on her. Without waiting for her to react, he slipped it off of her shoulders, brushing his fingers against the gauzy material that covered her arms and back. The material was thin, he noticed, not meant to trap warmth, as had already been demonstrated in the stairwell. Its only purpose was to hide the parts of her that she wanted to remain hidden.
After he'd slipped his jacket back on, he offered her the crook of his arm, and after only a second's hesitation she slipped her hand in it, feeling like this was an acceptable compromise between wearing his jacket and simply walking side by side.
Feeling the warmth of her hand against his arm, he had no qualms about walking back into the party this way. On the contrary, it felt like the right thing to do. It also helped because he could gently propel her forward, back towards the party that they'd now missed so much of – while she wasn't resisting, exactly, she definitely needed his momentum to keep her going. He knew that he should feel at least a little bit guilty about missing so much of the event, but even as hard as he knew that Patterson had worked to put all this together, he couldn't find it in him to regret it. On the contrary, as far as he was concerned, he had been exactly where he was supposed to be.
Patterson was the first one to see the Weller and Jane walk back into the party. She had been looking for both of them separately, and had at some point put together that since both of them were missing, maybe they were somewhere together – as unlikely as that sounded. At least she could hope, for their sake, that they were somewhere together. But where?
So far she'd managed to keep her growing curiosity, mixed with a little anxiety, in check, and convinced herself not to track them using the office surveillance cameras. No, she wouldn't do that… for at least another forty-five minutes.
When she'd imagined Jane and Weller together, she'd imagined them together in the "in the same place" sense of the word. Of course, it was impossible to tell what was going on with the two of them, just like it had always been impossible to tell with them. But at that moment, as she watched them walk back in together, something seemed different – and not just because Jane was holding his arm – though that was a very interesting development as well. When Patterson thought about that further, walking in like that with Weller seemed like something that the "old" Jane would have done. The "new" Jane, the one who didn't seem to want much to do with any of them, seemed much less likely to even get close enough to anyone else for that to be possible – at least not voluntarily. So what did it mean? Had something changed between them?
With that, she headed across the room to where Zapata and Reade were sitting, to see if they'd also noticed Jane and Weller's reappearance. She had the feeling that things were about to get even more interesting.