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: Thank you so much to those of you who've been leaving me reviews. As always, I very much appreciate you taking the time to leave them, and you, the readers, really are generous with your praise overall. Since I'm not able to reply individually to guest reviews, I wanted to take a second to say one thing here. If you've read any of my other stories, you probably already know that I tend to focus heavily on the emotional component of the Jane/Kurt relationship. While I can understand that some people want to see the two of them advance their physical relationship much faster than the way I write it, that is simply not my focus – nor is it going to be. This is not to say that they won't have a physical relationship, but the pace is slow, and you're not going to find it spelled out in explicit detail past a certain point. This is just the way I write.
I know that there are plenty of fanfics in which the author writes them moving much faster than I do. While I appreciate the enthusiasm that some of you have for them to move faster, I put a lot of work into writing them the way I do. As far as I'm concerned, there is so much more to Jane and Kurt – or any characters in any good story, really – than just getting them into bed together. If your takeaway from my writing is simply frustration that they are moving too slowly (and if I have misinterpreted this, then I apologize), then I fear that you are missing the emotional intimacy that I'm trying to create between them. However, to each his own. I just wanted to explain my perspective.
Okay, enough about that. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)
…..
They were sitting on the edge of the bed side by side, her right hand still tentatively resting on his left. Once again, the exhaustion she'd felt as she'd walked up the stairs came back to her full force. Turning to look across the room, she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder.
Turning in surprise and looking down at her, he chuckled slightly, asking, "Tired?"
"Nope," she replied as if she was completely serious.
"Liar," he said quietly, grinning.
"I'm fine," she insisted, not moving her head from his shoulder. It suddenly felt very, very heavy, and he felt her suddenly leaning more of her weight against him.
"Of course you are," he said soothingly, wondering how anyone could be so stubborn. She knew that he didn't believe her, and yet she continued to insist… But he knew why she didn't want to sleep, and he sympathized. He would've done anything to help her, if only he knew what to do.
"I'm going to go get ready for bed," he told her, gently pulling himself away from her in the hopes that she would pick up her head. "We'll continue this discussion after that. Okay?"
Sighing dramatically, she nodded and did indeed pick up her head. "Okay," she replied quietly, feeling exhaustion in every part of her body. The sensation made her tense slightly, however, thinking about the fact that she was going to have to somehow keep herself awake.
Glancing at her one more time, he stood up tiredly and walked to his bag, still sitting on the floor, and took out his toothbrush and toothpaste, heading for the door. She thought that he looked less tense than he had a few minutes ago, and she only hoped that he was going to be okay sleeping in this house that was so full of painful memories – this room especially.
As soon as he closed the door, she walked to her bag and got her own pajamas, quickly changing and putting away her clothes. He hadn't come back in yet so she walked to the window and looked out into the blackness. She couldn't see whatever it was that the window overlooked at this hour, of course. There was no street light nearby, and all the lights on the houses nearby were out. She thought that she could make out the shape of another house in the shadows… Probably Taylor's house.
Sighing, she turned around from the window and stood looking around slowly at the room. It was a strange feeling, like she'd stepped back in time. From Kurt's reaction especially, she was pretty sure that nothing had been touched in this room in years, possibly since the last time Kurt himself had set foot there.
What must that be like? she wondered. To be able to step back into your own past.
To have a past, the voice in her head added. At one time, that thought would have rendered her unable to function for quite some time, but now, having been conditioned to the idea, she only winced a little at the thought.
The door opened again then, and he stepped back in from the hall, closing the door silently after him. The look on his face had been closed off when he'd opened the door, as if he'd steeled himself against something, but when he saw her standing there, he smiled.
"Hey," he said quietly. Amusingly enough, he was pretty sure that they were both evaluating each other to determine if each of them was okay. He was relieved to see that she had at least put on her pajamas. It wasn't a guarantee that she had changed her mind about sleeping, of course, but it was a step in the right direction.
"Hey," she replied, feeling just a little bit awkward. "I'll go brush my teeth," she said, bending down to get her small toiletries bag from her duffle bag and disappearing into the hallway.
The door closed softly behind her and he looked around. Feeling himself almost holding his breath, he looked around the room hesitantly only very hesitantly. He willed himself not to think too hard about any of it, knowing that he was just barely hanging on at the moment.
It's going to be a long night, he thought. Looking around, he realized that he'd left the sleeping bag downstairs, so he slipped back out into the dark hallway and walked slowly down the creaky stairs to retrieve it from the entryway. With the bedding in hand, he made his way back upstairs.
Jane was surprised when she'd come back from the bathroom and he wasn't there, and she wondered if he'd changed his mind about where he was going to sleep. She walked slowly into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and walked to the bookshelf. Considering the idea of reading something to pass the time, if Kurt had, indeed, decided to sleep elsewhere and therefore the light wouldn't be keeping him up, she examined her choices. Of course, she'd never heard of any of the books that she saw there, but the titles sounded faintly reminiscent of what she imagined that a teenaged boy might read. Sighing with what felt a lot like defeat, she wandered back to sit down on the bed, leaving the books where they were.
What did you expect? Of course you haven't heard of them, she reminded herself. Why would you have?
While this was a logical question, it made her sigh again, heavily this time. Of course, there were only two things to do about this problem. Accept that she knew nothing about the books or decide to read them – though not necessarily tonight. While she had noticed that she very much enjoyed reading and usually she certainly didn't lack for free time, the option didn't appeal to her just then. There was too much else going on in her head for her to be able to concentrate on a book, after all.
Kurt pushed the door open then, his arms full of the bedding from the car, and saw Jane sitting cross-legged on the bed. The sight made him smile, and he was surprised to find that he felt slightly relieved, though his relief abated slowly when he saw her expression.
Did you think she was going to bolt? Out into the snow? he asked himself. Of course she's there.
No, it wasn't that he had expected her to disappear. Seeing her there in front of him was just a welcome sight. Her face, however, suggested that something was on her mind. That wasn't too much of a surprise, of course. They both seemed to have a lot on their minds just then.
"Hey," he said quietly, remembering how thin the walls had seemed when he was a kid, and how loud noises had carried so easily through them. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she replied, her expression softening into one that looked more like she actually was okay. "You?"
He gathered the bedding in one hand so that he could ease the door closed with the other, then turned slowly and stepped into the room. There wasn't a lot of floor space to work with, and the longest area to be found was just beside the bed.
"If I set this up here, do you think you can remember not to step on me?" he asked, standing a few feet in front of her. Her mouth curled into a smile as she nodded, though she made a mental note that he hadn't answered her question. It could have meant nothing, or it could have meant that he wasn't fine.
"I think so," she replied. He felt her watching him carefully as he bent down to spread out the sleeping bag and the blankets it contained on the floor beside the bed.
She was concerned about him, of course, but at the same time she was also uneasy about the fact that he was going to sleep on the floor beside the bed. Not because he was too close, but because he felt too far away.
You're crazy, she told herself. He's literally what? Three feet away at the most?
And yet she couldn't help the ache in her chest, because he might as well have been a mile away, or ten.
He's right there, the voice in her head said in exasperation. If you want to say something to him, just say it.
Say what? she asked herself stubbornly. That he's much too far away? That's crazy. I'm not saying that.
Then you're going to end up exactly this far away from him. You know that, right? the voice asked her. She sighed inwardly, trying to keep the sound from being audible.
When he had the sleeping bag laid out, he looked back up at her, surprised at the change that had come over her face. She'd been smiling at him when last he'd looked at her – okay, not quite a genuine smile, but a small one nonetheless. Now, it was clear from her expression that something was wrong, but she didn't seem to want to talk about it.
"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked gently, watching as the corners of her mouth tilted upwards just a little.
Damn you, Weller, she thought. Of course he can tell that something's wrong.
"I'm probably just overtired," she replied, realizing immediately that this directly contradicted her insistence that she wasn't tired. Not that he believed that anyway, she consoled herself weakly, waiting for his reaction.
He hadn't believed her when she'd said that she was fine not sleeping before, or that she wasn't tired, and he didn't believe her now when she said that the look on her face was due to being overtired, either. For whatever reason – call it a special intuition he had when it came to Jane – he just knew. But he didn't want to push her. To say that it had been a long, emotional day would be an understatement, and it was now pretty close to being tomorrow. No doubt Sawyer would wake them up at the crack of dawn, so they really needed to get some sleep, if possible.
Speaking of being woken up early, he thought, as he crossed the room to turn the lock on the inside of the doorknob. The lock that he'd never been allowed to lock as a kid, for fear of risking his father's temper.
"Insurance against small, Christmas obsessed elves bursting in at sunrise," he said quietly as she looked up when he moved towards the door.
Nodding in understanding, she asked, "But won't he just pound on the door, then?"
Kurt grinned, nodding his head, imagining his nephew doing exactly that. "Yeah, probably… but at least it'll deter him for a few seconds. It's all we can hope for," he replied, amused with the image of the situation that he'd created in his head.
Jane was nodding back at him with a forced smile, which was better than looking like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Reaching for the light switch, he couldn't help but wish he had some excuse to get closer to her… but he was absolutely not going to put her in such an awkward position, no matter how much he wanted to believe that it was the right thing to do to keep her from having a nightmare. No matter how much he had to wonder if he'd really be able to sleep in this room that was so full of the ghosts of his past. Pushing all that from his mind, he attempted to focus on her again. After all, when he filled his mind with Jane, there was little to no room for his own preoccupations, his own worries.
He flicked the light off, and for a second he couldn't see anything as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He stood still, peering into the darkness and waiting for the shadows to appear. He remembered that there hadn't been anything between himself and the sleeping bag in the middle of the floor, so he began to take small, tentative steps in that direction.
"It's always strange that at first, when you turn off a light, you can't see anything, and then after a while, things come into focus again," he said as his toe found the edge of the sleeping bag, and he lowered himself down to the ground.
His voice had slowly moved towards her, even though she could only see the faintest shadow of him as her eyes adjusted to the dark. When he knelt down to get into the sleeping bag, she could just make out the outline of him. Now she assumed that he was laying down, though she had lost sight of him, possibly blocked from view by the edge of the bed if not simply lost to her in the darkness. Though she knew that he was only a short distance from her, he felt farther away than ever, and the ache in her chest only intensified.
Once again, you could say something, the voice in her head told her impatiently.
Oh yeah? What? she asked. "Oh hey Kurt, why don't you come sleep up here with me?"
That would work, the voice replied, ignoring her sarcasm.
That is not going to happen, she assured it stubbornly.
Suit yourself, the voice told her as she resigned herself to the distance between them.
Shadows were now coming into focus in the weak light that was shed by the glow of the alarm clock sitting on the dresser. When she realized that she couldn't see him because of the angle at which she was sitting, she scooted herself forward slightly on the bed until she could just barely make out his shadow. She could just barely see that he was lying on his back, looking up at her, one arm bent and tucked behind his head on his pillow.
"Jane, I know that I can't convince you to sleep, or even to rest, if you're really that against it, but…" he began slowly, "I wish you would try." He knew that if there was one word that described her perfectly, it was stubborn.
And compassionate. And impatient. And strong. And… beautiful.
Focus, he told himself. You're getting a little sidetracked.
She stared at him in the dark, still sitting up with her legs crossed over each other, her back rigid. And yet, she could feel the exhaustion in every single one of her cells, or so it seemed.
"I'm fine," she whispered in the dark, wondering if he could see her clearly enough to see the stubborn expression on her face, or to see that even she didn't believe her own words.
He doesn't need to see you to know that. He knows you, after all.
"I can't really see you that well in the dark, but I still know that you're lying through your teeth," he replied immediately. His tone wasn't unkind. On the contrary, it was calm and familiar, as if he was simply reminding her good-naturedly about something that he knew that she already knew.
Dammit, she thought.
Before she could stop herself, she chuckled quietly, then cursed the fact that she'd just given herself away. What does it matter? she asked herself. He didn't believe you anyway.
He sighed, the sound turning into quiet laughter. "You're so stubborn, it's infuriating sometimes," he told her in a voice that had turned low and gravely from the lateness of the hour and just pure exhaustion. Said another way, his words could have come off sounding critical, but instead, his tone was warm and soothing, almost as if he was paying her a compliment. Besides, she generally took stubborn as a compliment, anyway… which, she knew, only proved that she didn't know what a compliment actually was. She knew that stubborn wasn't supposed to be one… except that coming from him, it sounded like one.
"I could say the same thing about you," she replied in the same gentle tone, and was rewarded with the sound of his laughter once again.
"Yeah, I guess that's true," he conceded, his words cutting off at the end as she heard him yawn. "I think I'm about to pass out, here. I see that you're still sitting up, up there," he said sleepily. "You going somewhere?"
"No," she replied stubbornly. "Just… not sleeping."
She pulled her legs up in front of her and hugged her knees to her chest. Though she wanted to sleep, she liked the idea of resting her mind, not having to think for several hours or more, the reality of it just didn't seem worth the trade-off.
"Well, you can lay down and still not sleep, you know," he observed, obviously trying another technique to get her to fall asleep, most likely thinking that if she laid down, she wouldn't be able to help herself. "But, you know…" He yawned again, then continued on as if nothing had stopped him. "Suit yourself. Just…"
He paused, and she heard hesitation in his voice, something that was unusual for him. "… stick around?"
The fact that the inflection in his words formed a question wasn't lost on her. Does he think I'm going somewhere? Is he afraid that I'm going somewhere? She wondered about this for a second. Why would he think that?
Well, for one thing, you don't exactly look like someone who's sticking around, she reminded herself.
Okay, fair enough, she conceded.
"Of course," she replied. "Where would I go?" She heard him chuckle because, of course, there was nowhere to go. Then without taking time to overthink it, she added, "There's nowhere I'd rather be." She realized after she'd said it that her words could have been misinterpreted. It wasn't that she wanted more than anything to be in Kurt's childhood bedroom, the one that was making him so uncomfortable. Or that she wanted to be sitting there on Christmas Eve afraid to sleep because she didn't want any noise she might make because of her nightmares to wake up Sarah and Sawyer – or Kurt, for that matter.
What she had meant was that she liked being there with him. She wondered if he would know what she'd meant. He usually did. Or would he think that she was just saying it to be nice? Her head was starting to hurt from the speed with which her thought were moving. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that there was one place where she'd rather be… closer to him.
A quiet chuckle escaped him then, in response to what she'd said, maybe, but it was not a sound that said that he found anything funny. On the contrary, the sound conveyed sadness. "I can think of somewhere I'd rather be," he said quietly, but didn't elaborate. He didn't want to admit to her that he'd prefer to be back in the car, tucked into the sleeping bag together – minus the hypothermia, of course… though it had had its benefits… He almost smiled to himself at that thought. Almost. Laying in that same sleeping bag alone... now there was just too much empty space inside, and too many demons lurking much too close to him.
You're an FBI agent, for God's sake! he reminded himself. Get ahold of yourself.
The problem was that he'd closed the door on this part of his life so long ago, that now that it was open, it was as though he didn't remember how to get it closed again.
Kurt hadn't said so, but she knew what he'd meant. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd rather be back at his own apartment than there in this place that held such bad memories for him. That was completely understandable, after all. She'd really have preferred to have been there, too, now that she thought about it. After all, anywhere where he would be happier would have made her happier as well.
He was staring in her direction in the darkness, watching her as carefully as he could, considering the darkness, listening to her breathing. Okay, it was better than if she'd been in another room, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that she was too far away.
Get a grip, Weller, he told himself. Either that, or do something about it.
It had been one thing when he couldn't see her when they'd been all the way inside the dark sleeping bag together to preserve heat, when she'd been laying on top of him. This was nothing like that. It almost made him want to get up and go sit beside her, just so he could reassure himself that she was there, and that she was okay… but he knew that they both needed to sleep, and that wouldn't be easier to achieve if they were sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed.
Or would it?
Even though he willed himself with everything inside him to stay awake and figure the whole thing out, exhaustion won out in the end. Jane heard the change in his breathing when it did, and she knew that she was now the last one in the house who was awake. The clock across the room said 1:47am, and she sighed, knowing that the remaining hours until the household awoke would feel far longer than they actually were.
Attempting to think of something to pass the time, without meaning for it to, her mind settled on earlier that day, in the car. Specifically, the part when they'd been inside the sleeping bag together. She was dismayed to realize that she was smiling, the thought of the particular part of the day filling her with a warm glow of happiness.
You could have frozen to death, the voice in her head protested. Why in the world would this count as a memory that's so happy, you're afraid to let yourself recall it?
Well, we didn't, she thought with a shrug. And being there was just… right.
Though she knew that this train of thought was a dangerous one, she couldn't seem to stop herself. Therefore, she decided that just this once, she would allow herself the luxury of thinking about something that made her happy. The risk of doing so, of course, was one she had drilled into herself mercilessly, and yet she happily ignored it.
Do not let yourself think about him that way. It gives him too much power to hurt you.
How many times had she reminded herself of this? Clearly, she had failed at this spectacularly several days ago already, though. At this point, things were different than they had been for the past few months. Weren't they? He was different. Wasn't he? She wondered about this suddenly, desperate for it to be true. Couldn't she safely let herself believe that he actually cared about her, now that the evidence was staring her in the face – or had been, until he'd fallen asleep…?
That's what you thought last time, the voice reminded her, and the smile immediately dropped from her face. In her mind, she wiped the slate of the image that had been there – the two of them pressed together in the sleeping bag in order to stay warm, to stay alive. She should not have let herself enjoy that so much. She could not allow herself to enjoy that so much.
Scooting herself back onto the middle of the bed, she hugged her knees tightly around herself again, so tightly that, had it been another person holding onto her that hard, she would have fought to free herself. But no, she simply held on tighter, until her arms and shoulders began to ache. Feeling her muscles begin shaking from the exertion after a few minutes, she wondered how much longer she could do this. Her mind was at once both frantic and perfectly clear.
This was the problem with the middle of the night, at least when she wasn't at her own safe house… there were no distractions from her thoughts, and her thoughts were not kind to her. On the contrary, while she couldn't say that she preferred the CIA's brand of torture, she had her own version which was arguably just as painful, if only in a different way.
You should have told him, the voice chided her.
I couldn't, she insisted.
You could have, it argued. You chose not to.
No, she thought, shaking her head and feeling herself dangerously close to tears. No other thoughts came to her, just the same word over and over in her head, getting louder and louder, pressing harder and harder on the inside of her skull, until she didn't even remember why she was saying it.
NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.
She could feel tears on her cheeks then, and it was almost as though she was watching herself from outside of her body, like she was seeing herself as someone else would have seen her, watching herself break down completely, even though she was no longer quite sure why it was happening. By that point, it didn't matter.
And then, out of pure exhaustion, Jane fell in a heap on her side against the relatively soft mattress – softer than the floor where Kurt slept, in any case - unable to hold herself upright anymore. Her brain and her body had simply reached the point where they could no longer function, like an electronic device whose battery had been drained and simply turned off until it was plugged in again.
Neither Jane nor Kurt slept well, but mercifully, both of them slept, albeit fitfully. Sadly, it was only barely over an hour later when this changed. This wasn't very much sleep, of course, and certainly not enough for a regular day, much less the draining one that they had just had.
Just after 3:00am, Jane was jolted awake by the same nightmare as the previous night, which was the same one as nearly every night, really. In less than half a second, every muscle in her body was tense and rigid and she once again sat bolt upright, gasping for air, just as she usually did. There was a loud, shrill scream that echoed in her head even after she knew that she was awake – the noise didn't fade with her dream this time, and she once again sat with her knees bent in front of her, except this time she clamped her hands over her ears to attempt to muffle the noise, her head pressed down against her knees. It didn't work, of course. That was the problem with a noise being inside her head – there was no real way to stop it, except for her to calm down. Despite how many times she'd woken up this way, she was still not good at calming down.
After a few long, tense minutes, the noise finally faded to what was more the level of background noise, though it hadn't gone away completely. Scooting herself to the edge of the bed, she clamped her hands against the side, as Kurt had done a few hours before when he'd been lost in his thoughts. She took gulps of air, trying to make as little noise as possible while also trying to catch her breath.
Kurt.
Just saying his name in her head helped – a little bit, anyway. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to focus on him, laying there on the floor in front of her. It took her a few minutes to realize that there was something… off. Though it had been hard to see in the dark initially, she now saw that his face was contorted in a way she'd never seen before. He usually had such tight control over his expression, even when she knew that his emotions were raging inside him, but this… Now he looked visibly upset.
"No," he moaned in a low voice. And just like that, she almost forgot about her own nightmare, because it was suddenly clear to her that he was having one of his own. As horrible as hers were, they had become commonplace. Not that she was used to them, but they weren't exactly a surprise anymore. She had a feeling that for Kurt, this one might be even more jarring than hers were for her, simply because it wasn't something that happened to him every day. At least, she didn't think they were.
Before she could think about what she could do for him, his eyes suddenly opened, his entire body tense, alert, his breathing labored. He stared at the ceiling for a few long, painful seconds before he looked around, blinking in confusion. Jane sat frozen, watching him, not knowing what to do.
Do something! her mind screamed, but for some reason, all she could do was watch him.
It had been years since Kurt had had that dream, but he remembered it well. His father. Taylor. Darkness. Indistinct shapes and sounds. Moans, screams… And then his father, scraping mud off of his boots, looking up at him with an expression of satisfaction. Goddamn satisfaction. He'd been proud of himself, and he hadn't even tried to hide it from Kurt.
Kurt knew that it was a dream. He knew. And yet, somehow that didn't make it less terrifying. He'd woken up at the same point as he always had – apparently, this dream had to play itself all the way through before it released its hold on him, like some sort of horror movie that played in his mind. Staring at the ceiling, he lay there, the image of his father with that horrible grin on his face looming over him, filling his field of vision and clouding out everything else.
Go away! he wanted to scream, even though he knew that his father wasn't actually there, that he had died months ago. It was several minutes before his present surroundings faded in, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enough for him to see that he was back there. No wonder he'd had that dream.
That was when he noticed Jane, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him, looking terrified and breathing hard. He remembered how she'd looked the night before, when he'd found her after her nightmare, and he couldn't help but think that she looked even more terrified this time.
"Jane," he said in a shaky breath, unable to form any other words just then as his mind continued to spin a million miles an hour.
She exhaled in the dark, almost as if she was trying to laugh, except that the noise revealed just how badly she was shaking, sitting there above him.
I'm shaking? she asked herself in surprise. I didn't even know.
He felt the familiar pain in his chest, the one that came anytime Jane was upset, he realized. This was the part where he always comforted her, except that he couldn't quite wrap his brain around forming words just then – besides her name.
"Are you okay?" she asked him in a shaky whisper, forcing the words out once she realized that he was worse off than she'd expected. If he was unable to bring himself to comfort her… that showed just how much his dream had affected him.
He made a noise then, like a mirthful laugh except that it came out more as a heavily labored breath. That was her answer. He was not anywhere near okay.
Neither are you, her mind reminded her.
No, she agreed, but it's my turn.
Sliding her feet carefully to the ground so that she didn't step on him, she stepped over the sleeping bag slowly, trying to figure out exactly what she was going to do.
His first thought was that she was going to leave the room, and his chest clenched painfully. The urge to reach out and stop her was so strong that he almost did just that, but stopped himself just in time.
However, instead of going any farther, she sat down next to him, pushing the sleeping bag out of her way enough to find his hand and drawing it into her lap between both of hers.
"Hey," she said softly, thinking of how often he'd pulled her back from the edge. "Are you okay?"
There was silence for a few seconds as he contemplated his answer. But there was no point in trying to pretend. After all, he still wasn't breathing normally and he knew it. Besides, if there was one person in the entire world who would understand not being okay, it was Jane.
"No," he whispered. Then, determined to tell her something, he somehow managed to force a few more words out. "I… I haven't had that dream in years. It was…" His breathing increased again as he thought back on it, and he was shaking, unable to stop. When he closed his eyes, she felt her throat closing up and the pressure in her head increasing instead of decreasing as she watched the signs of whatever was still happening before her eyes. She couldn't tell if her reaction to watching him break down was because of her own dream, or if it was simply that hard for her to watch him suffering like this. Or maybe both.
Squeezing her hands hard around his, she raised the three of them up to her forehead, pushing her elbows down hard against her knees for support and leaning her head forward so that her forehead pushed against their joined hands. She was shaking harder now, not knowing the right thing to do. What was there that she could possibly do, after all?
She hadn't realized that she was crying, and she wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually her heartrate began to slow and her breathing came back towards something resembling normal. Lowering their clenched hands, she opened her eyes to see Kurt's pained face watching her. He still didn't seem to be breathing normally, gulping just slightly as if he'd recently been crying, too. Maybe he had. Her eyes fell closed again and her head fell down towards her chest, their hands now more loosely grasped together in her lap.
"Jane," she heard him whisper, and opened her eyes slowly in response.
So much for comforting him, she thought in annoyance with herself.
For a second, the two of them just stared into each other's eyes. And then, just like that, no other words were necessary.
I can't do this, she thought. Not like this.
Kurt watched her in surprise as she pulled down the zipper on the sleeping bag halfway, let go of it, and then stopped to look back up at him, a question in her eyes. She simply could not think of anything else that she could do that would make things better, for either of them, and yet… still she hesitated. Of course she did. Because this just wasn't…
No, she told herself. You tried that logic. It clearly didn't work.
He was surprised, but he didn't hesitate to push back the flap that she had just unzipped. Smiling sadly at her, he wanted to say something, anything, really, to let her know that it was okay, but words failed him just then, and he had to settle for looking deep into her eyes and trusting that, as she always seemed to, she would understand.
She moved slowly, pushing her feet into the sleeping bag first and then maneuvering herself much the same way she had in the car, reaching carefully out of the sleeping bag with her left hand to zip it back up before lowering herself gradually so that all of her weight was on him, pressing her head against his chest and hearing his heartbeat, which immediately began to calm her.
Without thinking about it, his arms were already around her back, he noticed, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Are you okay?" she asked him again, her voice not shaking quite as much anymore.
"No," he replied sounding even more broken because of the fact that he was usually so together. "Are you?"
"No," she whispered sadly, shaking her head gently against him.
"Nightmare?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.
He was already holding onto her, and just then she felt like his arms had tightened around her, which she didn't mind at all. To her, it felt as if he was holding on for dear life, as if he was afraid that she would change her mind about where she was.
"We'll be okay," he said softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
Her stomach flopped nervously, and for a second she wondered what in the world she was doing. She had promised herself that she would not do this exact thing, and yet here she was.
But… why? the voice asked her. Why make such a promise? Isn't this what you wanted? Does it really seem to you like he doesn't want you exactly where you are? If you both want the same thing… then what's the problem?
Finding that she couldn't answer the question in her mind, she finally allowed herself to simply relax. Because… why not?
He felt the difference the moment she let herself relax, and was surprised at how much he liked the feeling it gave him. Getting Jane to relax after a nightmare usually took a Herculean effort and much, much more time, but somehow this time it had been as "easy" as having him have his own nightmare, and needing comfort just as much as she had.
Easy. Right. He almost smiled at the thought that he'd just called this easy. Obviously, his exhaustion was messing with his sense of humor, or maybe just his sense of judgement. Just then, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that Jane was relaxing in his arms, which meant that he was beginning to relax as well.
Her eyes were closed, and she cleared her mind of everything but the sensation of where she was. Laying this way had seemed like the most awkward thing in the world at first, earlier that afternoon when it had been a necessity, and yet now… suddenly there was absolutely nothing awkward about it. And though she could feel herself on the edge of the familiar abyss, the one she had fallen into in her mind so many times, as she now stood at the edge looking into it, it suddenly got farther away. No, she was the one moving, moving steadily away from it in fact, being pulled gently backward until she could no longer even see it in the distance. Feeling herself begin to drift off to sleep, this time she gave herself permission to do so. After all, this time she knew that was safe.
It hadn't surprised him that she'd had another nightmare. On the contrary, he'd sort of expected it. He was surprised at his nightmare, however. Come to think of it, given the memories that that house had dredged up, he shouldn't have been surprised by his nightmare, either. The fact that they had both seemed about equally upset, neither one able to say anything comforting to the other… he certainly hadn't expected that. Still, as much as neither of them had been able to find the right words, he found the fact that she had just fallen asleep against him – within seconds of joining him in the sleeping bag, in fact – to be all the comfort that he needed.
Closing his eyes tentatively, waiting to see if his father's face still loomed behind his eyes, he found with relief that the man was gone. Instead, there was only the warmth that came from holding onto Jane. In another few seconds, he had fallen asleep as well.