Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
Dinner passed relatively uneventfully. For the three Wellers, it was like old times back at Kurt's apartment, but better. The difference was that Sarah could see a change in her brother. He had always been his most open at home with them, but even so, there was an air of happiness about him that she didn't remember ever seeing before, even when he'd been at his happiest. It wasn't hard to figure out what it was, because with the number of times that he looked at Jane, and the expression on his face every time he did, it was pretty obvious. Her older brother was finally in love, and Sarah could not have been happier about it. After everything he'd been through, he certainly deserved it. And from the fragments that Sarah knew about Jane, she did, too.
Conversation flowed easily at the table, and even Jane was surprised to find herself unexpectedly drawn into it. She still didn't say much, but she didn't feel as separate as she had earlier, as though she was crashing another family's Christmas celebration. No, she found that she really did feel welcome there, as if she was there because her presence had been a part of everyone's plans, and not as though she'd been the last second addition that she had been. That part, while true, still made her slightly uncomfortable, but all she could do was to try not to think about it. After all, she'd gotten pretty good at selectively ignoring events of her past.
After dinner, they moved into the living room by the Christmas tree that Sarah and Sawyer and put up and decorated upon their arrival a few days before. All the ornaments and decorations had still been in the attic, just as they'd been for all of Kurt and Sarah's lives. While he hadn't focused on the history that stared back at him while they'd eaten dinner, now, in this living room that was the same one where the Weller siblings had spent so many Christmases with their parents, and then after their mom had left, just their father, it was as though Kurt couldn't stop the flood of memories.
He started at the fire that he'd started in the fireplace, and it continued to crackle loudly from nearby. Despite the apprehension that he'd felt as they'd arrived a few hours before, since then they'd been so busy settling in that Kurt had managed to keep the memories at bay. After all, it had been a relief just to have gotten there alive, a relief to have seen Sarah and Sawyer for the first time in so long, and a pleasant distraction to have Jane there. But as he sat there by the Christmas tree, at one end of the same couch on which he sat with so many of the many ghosts of his childhood, the memories quickly began to come back to him – the same ones that made up the reason why he had avoided this place for so many years.
When he looked across the room, for example, he saw the window that faced what had been Taylor's house, where she had stood to look out of impatiently, checking for her mom's car in their driveway, on so many different occasions. He saw the carpet where, one time, Taylor had collapsed in a fit on laughter in the middle of the floor and had been unable to get up for a full thirty minutes, because she was simply laughing that hard. He saw the doorway through which, suddenly, he could only see Taylor walking through, calling his name loudly in the little girl way that she'd never gotten the chance to outgrow. In other words, as he sat and looked across the room in any direction, he saw Taylor. Everywhere, he saw Taylor. The more times he saw her, the tenser he became. While he knew why he was here, he couldn't help but ask himself why in the world he'd agreed to come here. After all, how was think helping him, to torture himself this way?
Jane had excused herself to go to the bathroom when they'd moved towards the living room for the Weller family's tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. She'd enjoyed dinner with everyone, but at the same time, being drawn into such a strong family bond and being made part of their Christmas tradition so effortlessly only reinforced the vacuum that her life was without them. She did her best to focus only on the present, just as she did so often. It just wasn't easy.
She didn't care that she wouldn't have a present to open, really she didn't. She did, however, still care that she didn't have presents for any of them. Try as she might to think about how to fix that, she couldn't come up with anything short of "go shopping next week when you get home." She'd spent a few extra minutes in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, wondering what she could do. She'd come up with… nothing. There was nothing she could do just then, so she had to resign herself to that fact. Leaving the bathroom, she went in search of Kurt.
When she found him in the living room with Sarah and Sawyer, she could immediately tell that something wasn't right. She stood in the doorway, watching him, for a few minutes before walking the rest of the way into the room. Sarah and Sawyer were discussing something she didn't catch, but something that held their attention, in any case. Kurt was sitting at the end of the couch, staring off into the fire. Jane had been so wrapped up in her own insecurities, her own worries, since they'd arrived, that she hadn't even taken the time to ask him how he was faring in this house that was so full of his old ghosts. Suddenly, she felt guilty – this place was inhabited by his ghosts, not hers, after all.
Sitting down on the couch beside him, she folded her right leg in front of her so that she could sit turned to face him. "Hey," she said quietly, waiting for him to look at her and realizing that she was now in the position in which he usually found himself, saying the line that he usually said to her. "Are you okay?" He looked at her as if he'd just realized she was beside him – which he had – and nodded absently.
"Yeah," he said, but it was clear from his expression that the answer was "no." After all, not only was she the queen of that particular lie, even when she was simply telling it to herself, but she also knew him better than that. He was sitting at the left end of the couch, his left arm along the pillow at the back and his right hand clenched in a not-very-loose fist, sitting on the far side of his right leg. Jane continued to sit facing him, watching him carefully for almost a full minute and seeing the sadness in his eyes. He was obviously somewhere else, a feeling that she knew all too well. She reached out her left hand tentatively, resting it on his knee and wondering what his reaction would be. The situation seemed to call for her to do something, after all, and her experience was limited – she only knew the things that he had done for her in similar situations.
He was struggling to hold it together at that moment, as his emotions suddenly felt like they were bubbling over. Why had Sarah thought that this would be a good idea, anyway? Why do I have to relive it all over again? Especially now, knowing that Jane isn't Taylor after all, that dad… He couldn't bear to even say the words in his head. His mind flashed back to that night, in the pouring rain, when he'd pulled the plastic boot out of the mud at the campground… the boot that had contained her bones. He was breathing more rapidly now, taking shallow breaths as he attempted to be in the moment that he knew was happening around him – Christmas Eve – but still unable to free himself from the clutches of the past.
I can't do this, he thought, feeling himself begin to panic. If there was one thing that he didn't do, it was panic. He was known for his composure, his calm under pressure. The feeling was so unfamiliar, that that only made it worse. He could already imagine what he'd have to say to Sarah, to Sawyer – after fleeing the room before Sawyer had a chance to open a Christmas Eve present… it would be embarrassing. Sarah would understand, would look at him with pity, the way she always had when it came to anything to do with Taylor. Sawyer… well, Kurt hoped that his nephew would never have to understand. After all, he wouldn't wish that kind of sadness on his nephew, or on anyone else for that matter.
It was only then that he became aware that someone was sitting very close to him, that there was a hand on his knee, squeezing gently, that there were eyes looking worriedly into his.
Jane, he finally remembered.
Suddenly he was back in the present, looking into the eyes of a very worried Jane. He smiled weakly, attempting to reassure her that there was nothing wrong, but knowing full well that that ship had sailed. She already knew. Of course she knew. No matter how he liked to think that he was a vault, and that his feelings couldn't show through the thick walls that he'd built, it just wasn't true. Especially not in this place, where he felt everything a hundred times more acutely than anywhere else, and not with Jane, who could, just because of who she was, somehow see through his walls anyway. That seemed only fair, since he'd spent so much time inside of her own walls.
Now that Sarah and Sawyer had finally noticed that Jane had rejoined them, Sawyer returned their attention to the business at hand – the presents. The idea was for Sawyer to choose one present to open before they went to bed. The adults were obviously less pressed, and didn't really care whether they opened anything.
Jane knew that she wasn't going to have anything, anyway, but that was irrelevant to her. After all, she was there with them and not alone in her safe house, which meant more to her than any present could have anyway. There were still moments, despite the agreement she had Kurt had made, when she felt like she couldn't possibly deserve to be there, to deserve another chance. She just did her best to push those thoughts aside and stay in the present. Besides, just then Kurt seemed to need her, anyway. After all the times he'd been there for her, that he'd pulled her back out of her own head, the least she could do now was to return the favor.
"Okay," Sawyer declared loudly, "everyone's here now, mom. Can we do presents?" He looked at his mother impatiently.
"Yes," Sarah replied, shaking her head at her ten year old's youthful exuberance. Sarah remembered loving Christmas as a kid, but these days it had turned into something that she knew that she was supposed to love, but that was just a lot of work. She was slightly comforted by the assumption that most moms probably felt the same way, and she did her best to enjoy it for her son's sake. As far as she was concerned, seeing Kurt happy was all the gift that she needed, anyway…
Although, come to think of it, she thought as she now looked at him, he doesn't look too happy.
The happiness that she'd seen in him at dinner now seemed to be gone. She'd noticed while Jane had been in the bathroom that Kurt had seemed lost in thought since he'd walked into the living room, and she suddenly felt guilty. After all, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out what effect this house would have had on him. He'd worked so hard not to be there for so many years, because the memories of Taylor and his hatred of their father were so strong, he simply couldn't bear it. Maybe it had been selfish of her to ask him to come back one more time, but she really had thought that it would help him heal. Now that they knew for sure… that they knew the awful truth about their father, about Taylor… She'd wanted to help Kurt let go of the anger of his childhood, but maybe that was something that was just never going to happen.
Despite being deep in conversation with Sawyer, she had been going into full worry mode when Jane had walked back into the room. But then something amazing had happened. She had watched as slowly, unsurely, Jane had sat down beside Kurt. Sarah had been in awe of the way Jane seemed to know what to do, even though it looked like she felt unsure herself. Sarah would have hesitated to get so close to her brother when he was lost in thought like that – he'd lashed out at her enough times as he came back to the present time to make her think twice, no doubt an effect of the anger that thoughts of the past brought to the surface for him. But Jane sat down beside him calmly and looked at him with complete understanding, spoke to him quietly and gently laid her hand on his knee.
Sarah had watched in fascination as the other woman seemed to do everything right, and had been rewarded with a nod of Kurt's head, distracted though it was, and then finally, his eyes on her, one word in reply to whatever she'd said. It had been beautiful to watch, the understanding and the gentleness between the two of them, even though Sarah did feel guilty for watching them so closely. This only served to reinforce Sarah's relief that the two of them had worked things out. She'd had nothing against Allie on the rare occasion that they'd been in the same place, but she'd always had the nagging feeling that the other woman wasn't right for her brother. Now, she had no such misgivings.
Sawyer was sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, the spot where he'd always been told to sit for the sake of his mother's attempt at capturing this moment – the first present – on her camera, looking impatiently from one adult to another. None of them were looking at him, but were instead focused on each other for some reason that he couldn't understand. Had they all forgotten why they'd come to sit in the living room in the first place? His mom had just said that they could do presents, and now no one was even paying attention.
Adults don't make any sense whatsoever, he thought in annoyance.
"Mom?" Sawyer asked tentatively, which stole her focus from starting at Jane and Kurt, back to her son.
"What? Oh, yes sweetie," Sarah replied with a smile, looking at her son. She adjusted the settings on her phone and then held it up in front of her to take her son's picture.
Sawyer then glanced back at his uncle. "Uncle Kurt?"
Looking up, Kurt forced a smile onto his face that he didn't even begin to feel. "Go ahead, buddy, we're ready," he replied. It helped that Jane had turned to the side, curling her legs up on the left side of her on the couch and that she was now leaning back, against him, so that his hand along the back of the couch could rest between her shoulder blades. While he watched Sawyer, he tried to put himself in the place of a child who had no bad memories of this house, no childhood trauma more serious than his parents' divorce. He envied his nephew the ability to be so carefree as he watched him tear into the wrapping paper on the present in front of him. What he wouldn't give to have his life be that simple.
Except that you wouldn't want that, the voice in his head chimed in. It had been silent for quite some time now, but it never left completely. Take away the trauma of your past, the mistakes made by your father and the path that they set you on… If you straighten out the curves, so to speak, then where do you end up? Maybe in this place this year, maybe not… but certainly not with Jane. Having Jane in your life is a product of the pain in your past. She couldn't have been placed there – would never have been sent to you – if not for so many things that haunted you. If you'd never been haunted by your past, well, you may have turned out more well-adjusted. You also may have ended up with Allie. Or any other random woman for that matter. But not Jane, the voice concluded.
As Sawyer held up some sort of Minecraft themed toy that Kurt didn't even pretend to recognize, except that it was associated with the video game that Sawyer loved, his mind wandered to that fact – that if not for his father killing Taylor, Jane wouldn't be sitting next to him. He knew this, of course, just based on the timeline of events that had happened to each of them. Without his single-minded obsession with finding Taylor Shaw and missing kids in general, Sandstorm never would have been able to insert Jane into his life – at least not anything like the way they'd done it. If anything had been different, chances were that she wouldn't be beside him. Just that thought alone was enough to send shivers down his spine. Simply being in that house again, seeing Taylor everywhere he looked, all that was painful enough. Then suddenly to imagine Jane erased from his life… it was almost too much.
His hand stopped moving across her back, coming to rest over the spot where she knew so well that his name had been set. She couldn't help but wonder if it meant something that he'd stopped there, not on her shoulder, where it was easier for his hand to rest. As Sawyer tore into the packaging, exclaiming happily that it was just what he'd wanted, Jane turned to look at Kurt. His eyes were pointed at Sawyer and he'd forced a smile onto his face, but she would've been willing to bet that he had no idea what was going on right in front of his eyes. Unable to comfortably reach his right hand from the way she was sitting, and not quite comfortable putting her hand on his upper thigh, she turned back to look at the scene in front of her, but at the same time leaned her head to the right slightly until the top of her head leaned against his cheek. Almost immediately, she felt increased pressure as he leaned back against her head. This was their communication, her way of letting him know that she was still there, and he breathed just a little bit easier because of it.
Next, Sawyer stood up and walked around the giant mound of presents around the base of the tree, looking carefully for something in particular. Watching him as if through a fog, it suddenly occurred to Kurt that he still had a trunk full of presents outside… all addressed to Sarah and Sawyer. His chest hurt just a little bit at the thought that he had absolutely nothing for Jane.
You know why that is, right? the voice in his head asked. Because up until yesterday, you never thought about her unless you had to.
She felt a sharp intake of breath beside her, and looked over at Kurt in surprise as his face suddenly looked pained, the forced smile no longer even present. He'd obviously just thought of something that he hadn't expected, and had had trouble processing it. Sitting in this house, that must be so full of old memories for him, maybe a few good but mainly bad, it was no wonder why he would be overwhelmed.
He felt her head lean against his cheek a little harder, and he felt even guiltier than he had a moment before. She'd obviously mistaken his gasp for something besides what it was – though if she'd known the source of his dismay, he was fairly sure that she still would have tried to reassure him. That was just the kind of person that she was. She'd trained herself to put all of her energy into caring about others, and most of the time not sparing a thought for herself.
He was working on this bad habit of hers, but changing the way a person thinks about themselves wasn't something that was going to happen overnight, and so far that was literally all it had been – overnight – as hard as it was to believe it. As intense as the past twenty four or so hours had been, and as long as he'd cared about her before that – the number of days since they'd met minus days when he had felt like he hated her making the precise amount of time extremely uncertain – it felt impossible that things between them had happened only yesterday. And yet, they had.
While Jane and Kurt had both been lost in their thoughts, Sawyer had handed a small box to Sarah. She was now peeling back the wrapping paper slowly, already having thanked her son profusely. What in the world could it be? And how had he gotten it without her knowing? He was ten, after all.
The ensuing conversation between Sawyer and Sarah about where he had gotten the necklace with a small silver heart pendant – with the help of his dad, it turned out – faded into the background. Jane kept glancing over at them, but her attention was on Kurt. More and more, she worried about what was going on in his head.
Kurt, of course, was paying even less attention to the gift exchange than Jane was, though it wasn't by choice. He simply couldn't bring himself to tune out his thoughts, which were growing noisier and noisier with each passing moment.
The next thing they knew, Sawyer was standing in front of them, handing Kurt a neatly wrapped package that, Kurt was fairly sure even through the fog of his thoughts, was a sweater. He removed his hand reluctantly from Jane's back, leaning away from her to swing his arm around so that he had two hands with which to unwrap the gift that sat on his lap. He leaned back towards her to regain the proximity that he'd had a few seconds before, but at the same time, felt Jane lean away slowly, maybe attempting to remove herself from the center of attention. He didn't want her farther away from him – on the contrary, he wanted her closer – but he knew that that would be very much like her. As he worked on opening the present in front of him, he let his left elbow fall down against her right thigh, the only part of her leg that he could reach since she had tucked her legs up on the far side of her body. The gesture was meant as a signal to her that he didn't want her to move any farther away, and he felt her stop shifting as soon as his elbow rested against her leg.
It was, indeed, a sweater – a nice one, as usual. It was a soft, woven pattern in a deep grey. His first thought was that it would look particularly good on Jane, but he kept that part to himself. He had to say one thing for his sister, she had good taste in clothes.
"Thanks, Sarah," he said with as much of a smile as he could muster. Sarah, in turn, smiled back at him sadly. It was hard to watch him like this and know that were they having Christmas elsewhere, she wouldn't have had to see the pained look in her brother's eyes. She didn't like to think that it had been selfish of her to want to have Christmas here, but at that moment, she wondered who she had really done it for – him, or herself. There was a certain amount of comfort that she took from being back there after all, even despite what they now knew. Looking at Kurt, however, she didn't think that he was finding any. At least not so far. Be that as it may, of course, they were there, so there was nothing that could be done about it now.
Sarah stood up to gather the wrapping paper from the gifts, feeling badly that there wasn't anything for Jane. That was when Sawyer leaned behind the tree from where he was sitting, then stood up and walked over toward Jane and Kurt with a long, cylindrical gift that looked like exactly what you would expect when a ten year old boy attempted to roll up a sheet of heavy paper and then wrap it as a gift, all on his own.
"Here, Jane, this is for you," he said simply, to the astonishment of all three adults. Jane sat and stared at the boy for a few seconds before reaching out to take the package, which was so light she wouldn't have been surprised if there was nothing in it at all.
"Sawyer… thank you," Jane said, suddenly feeling her emotions rise to the surface, her eyes threatening to water without even knowing what was inside the wrapping. She hadn't expected anything, after all. "I'm sorry…" she said, looking up at him where he still stood in front of her. "I don't have anything for you… I had no idea that I was coming here until last night."
"I know. That's fine. But I wanted you to have something," he said, smiling at her innocently.
Jane didn't know what else to say, so she looked down at the package, and then realizing that everyone was watching her, began tugging gently at the wrapping paper. The single piece of tape in the middle came undone, and she unrolled the wrapping paper from around it slowly, since she could feel that whatever was inside was likely just a single piece of rolled up paper. Kurt was leaning closer to her, watching over her shoulder, and Sarah had walked over to see what her son had given to Jane. Even she didn't have anything for Jane, about which she felt terrible.
Pulling the wrapping paper away from what had indeed been a thick sheet of rolled up paper inside it, Jane held onto it for a few seconds before letting it unroll in her hands. She recognized the weight of the paper as coming from a sketch book, and she wondered if Sawyer had started a drawing collection of his own. Almost in slow motion, she smoothed the paper out in front of her, and there was a collective, quiet gasp among the three adults in the room. There on the page, Sawyer had used colored pencils to draw a portrait of Kurt, serious look and scruff and all, with Jane beside him. They were both looking forward, and Jane's head was tilted toward Kurt, their shoulders touching. While it wasn't a professional quality drawing, having been done by a ten year old, the likeness of each of them was easily recognizable.
Sawyer was a little bit confused about why all the adults were standing around, stunned, and staring at his drawing. No one said a word for more than a few seconds, and he began to feel a little bit paranoid. What was the big deal, anyway? Was it that bad?
Inhaling sharply and biting her lip to keep from choking on the emotion that now threatened to overwhelm her, Jane took a deep breath. She knew that she needed to compose herself quickly, because it seemed unlikely that Sawyer would understand if she started to cry, which was her first instinct. Forcing herself to exhale slowly and smiling as widely as she could, she looked up at the boy's hopeful expression, feeling tears in her eyes but managing to keep them there.
"Sawyer, I love it. Thank you so much," she managed to say, albeit in a choked whisper. Sawyer beamed proudly, obviously relieved that his gift had been well received.
Then suddenly, his face became serious. "I know that you're not Taylor," he said, again very matter-of-factly. "My mom told me… what happened to her."
"She did?" Kurt asked, unable to help himself.
Sawyer looked up at his uncle, and nodded solemnly. "She said that she just disappeared one night, and that you didn't know what happened to her back then… but that not too long ago, you found out that she had died. A long time ago. So Jane was never Taylor." He smiled sadly at his uncle, his young mind unable to imagine how much it would hurt for his best friend to die.
Kurt, in turn, looked up at Sarah, and they nodded at each other. He was glad that she'd told him the truth, but that she'd stopped where she had. There was no reason to tell a ten year old that his grandfather was a murderer, especially now that he was gone. That part of the story could come later, when he was older and hopefully better able to handle such a horrible revelation – if at all.
Still watching Jane, Sawyer continued, "And I know that you and everybody thought that you were Taylor. I remember when you came over for dinner that first time. That must have been hard, not to remember anything. But… I'm glad that you're Jane, and that you're here."
Jane had now given up on keeping her tears from falling, and several of them were trickling down her cheeks as Sawyer spoke. She swatted at them in vain, as they continued to fall. Still, she was smiling at this boy who displaying wisdom far beyond his age. When Jane glanced up at Sarah, she saw that Sawyer's mother had her hands clasped together, palms pressed flat against each other, in front of her face, and that there were tears on her cheeks, as well.
But the look on his face told them all that the youngest Weller had more to say, and she focused on him once more. "My mom says, that you always made Uncle Kurt happier than she'd seen him since Taylor disappeared, when he was ten. My age. You know… back before you guys started having problems." Sawyer frowned for a second, not really understanding that part, because he'd never seen the two of them look anything but happy together. He even remembered catching them kissing one time… which was gross. He shrugged then, and continued. "But you don't look like you're having problems anymore, so… I'm glad. He's the best uncle ever. He deserves to be happy."
For a few seconds, Jane just sat there in shock, unable to absorb everything that Sawyer had just said to her – to them. While she stared at him, Sawyer looked around and suddenly noticed that every one of the adults had the same expression on their faces, and either had tears running down their faces or, in the case of his uncle Kurt, looked like they were about to. Sawyer turned to his mom, confused, and asked, "Mom, did I say something wrong? Why is everybody crying?"
Sarah walked the two steps that separated them and hugged her son tightly. "No, sweetie, everyone's just amazed, because… what you did for Jane, and what you said… you're absolutely right. Sometimes adults feel like things are a lot more complicated than they should, and you just reminded us how simple it all is." Sawyer seemed satisfied with his mom's explanation, and he looked back and Jane and Kurt hopefully, wishing they would stop crying.
"Sawyer, thank you so much. I love that portrait. It's… perfect," Jane said, trying her hardest to smile. "It's one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me." She watched as the boy standing in front of her beamed happily.
She and Kurt looked down at the drawing again, in awe, and Sawyer stepped closer to them to peer over the edge of the paper, and then looked back up at the faces of his two subjects.
"This is amazing, buddy," Kurt told him sincerely. Sawyer just grinned now, pleased that his gift had been so well received, and that he was now getting the reactions that he had hoped for.
"Come on Sawyer, help me in the kitchen, and then you need to take a shower," Sarah told him, eyeing Jane and Kurt and guessing that they needed a minute. She walked over to put her arm around her son's shoulders and to steer him out of the room, if necessary.
"Do I have to?" he asked, suddenly sounding far younger than the boy who'd just spoken so maturely a moment before.
"Yes, you do," Sarah answered evenly. "Or there'll be no Christmas presents for you tomorrow." Sawyer sighed dramatically, glanced back and Jane and Kurt with a smile once more before turning to walk to the kitchen with his mom.
Alone once again, Jane and Kurt leaned closer to each other, once again staring at the drawing.
"I can't believe he did this," Jane said softly.
"He's pretty amazing, alright," Kurt agreed, reaching both arms around her, his right in the front of her and his left in the back, and tugging her closer to him with his hands clasped together against the front of her left arm.
Turning to look at him, she replied, "It seems to run in the family."
She watched as her words sunk in, and then seconds later when he shook his head and began to protest, not with humility but in self-deprecation, she already knew what to do. She'd expected just that reaction, after all. Raising her eyebrow at him, she just shook her head. Knowing that he'd just been caught about to violate their agreement, he stopped before he'd started. Instead of saying anything about how he felt unworthy of her compliment, he just smiled at her until she looked back down at the drawing in her hand.
When she turned her face away from him to look back at her drawing, he took advantage of the chance to lean forward and kiss her cheek. This made her turn back to look at him, smiling tiredly.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, leaning into him and laying her head against his chest.
"Yeah," she replied. "But are you okay?" she asked him in return. "When I walked into the room before, you looked…" She didn't know how to describe it, but she figured that he knew what she was talking about. While she hoped that if something was wrong, he'd feel comfortable enough to tell her, she wasn't expecting much, really. He'd never been a "talk about your feelings" guy, after all. He'd always communicated more through his eyes than his words.
He sighed heavily, and Jane knew immediately that she'd been right. Pulling herself back up, so that she could lean against the back of the couch and look him in the eyes, she found that he was looking off into the fireplace once more.
"I was just sitting here before, and… it's like…" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "In this house, I see her everywhere. Taylor. At the window over there, looking for her mom's car. On that carpet, laying on the floor and laughing hysterically. Walking through the doorway, sitting on the couch, skipping in circles…" He opened his eyes, but the pained look on his face intensified, and she wondered if he suddenly saw her again. He closed them again, harder this time, dropping his head to his chest and struggling to breathe normally.
Her chest hurt just watching him like this. Even though without this lifetime of suffering, she knew that neither of them would have ended up there on that couch together, she couldn't help but think that if there was anything she could have gone back and done differently, she would have done it in a heartbeat – even if it meant that their paths never crossed. If it meant that he was spared this heartache, it would have been worth it, as sad as that thought was to her.
Putting her right hand over his, on top of her left arm, she squeezed it tightly. There was nothing she could do to fix this, and that was a terrible feeling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling her throat closing up around the words, and tears threatening to fall again. She managed to pull his hand off of her arm, and she now held it tightly in her lap. "What can I do?"
For a minute she thought that he wasn't going to reply, and that would have been okay. After all, what could she possibly do? The answer was probably nothing, anyway. "This," he said faintly, to her surprise, echoing exactly what she'd told him when faced with the same question. As far as he was concerned, she was doing the exact right thing without knowing it, as usual.
"I'm sorry I wasn't her," she whispered suddenly, her voice breaking. She was as surprised as he was, because she really didn't know where the words had come from, only that she hated feeling so helpless. She would have given anything to have been Taylor Shaw, just as she'd told him when she'd first come back to the FBI. Not for herself, but for him.
"Don't say that," he said immediately, pulling her back against him once again, tighter than before. And then, against her cheek, he whispered, "I'm not." The tone of his voice left no room for argument, and he held onto her so tightly, it was almost as though he thought that she was going to disappear into thin air at any moment.
The crackling of the fire was the only noise in the room for a while, as they simply sat there, on the couch together, holding onto each other. Her hands, he began to notice as his surroundings came back into focus, were freezing even now, and he took both of them between his own.
"Are you still cold?" he asked in surprise.
"Yeah," she told him, "I feel like I'm never going to be warm again."
"I'll take that as a challenge," he told her, rubbing his hands over hers and leaning his cheek against her temple.
The hint of a smile appeared on her face. "No arguments here," she replied.
"You know, I hear the best way to warm up is—" he started, but she elbowed him in the side and laughed, heartache momentarily forgotten.
"Don't push your luck, Agent Weller," she told him. "That is not happening twice in one day."
"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugged. She shook her head and chuckled, feeling him do the same behind her, and leaned into him.
"How was this really all one day?" she asked him quietly, shaking her head in disbelief.
"How was this really all one lifetime?" he replied, then leaned his face down into her hair, inhaling slowly. She chuckled softly in agreement.
"I don't know," she replied, though she knew that the question had been rhetorical. "I don't think I know anything anymore."
He set his chin against the back of her head for a second. "I'm glad you're here, Jane," he told her again. "I don't think I could have done this without you."
"I'm glad, too," she replied quietly, leaning into him.
Neither of them were quite ready to move, but there was nothing that said that they had to. Not yet. Despite the long, exhausting day they'd had, she definitely wasn't ready to think about the sleeping situation. Truthfully, she didn't even want to think about sleeping. With the frequency with which she'd been having nightmares lately, it seemed like not sleeping was the better option anyway.
No, for the moment she was absolutely content with where they were.