Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)
The next time the door opened, it was Alicia, bringing Kurt both his medicine and a dinner that was slightly on the early side – since it was barely 5:00.
"How are you feeling?" she asked. And then, before he could reply with another witty comment about having been blown up, she added, "On a scale of one to ten, what's your pain level?"
Thinking for a minute, he replied, "About a five."
"That's great, it means you're going the right direction. But don't try to fool yourself, you're going to need to keep taking these," she shook the bottle of pills in her hand. "At least for a few days, most likely. The doctor will be in in a little while to check on you again, and then we'll see if we can't get your discharge paperwork started," she told him. "Assuming everything still looks, good, of course."
Kurt smiled and nodded at her absently. "Great, thanks," he replied, but his eyes kept flicking back to the door, willing Jane to walk through it. He felt as though she'd been gone a long time, though he knew that it had only been a few minutes since she'd left the room.
As Alicia made her way back to the door, it opened slowly, and to Kurt's relief, Jane poked her head in. Seeing the nurse on her way out, Jane stepped back, out of Kurt's view, to make space for her to leave, and then stepped back inside again once she'd gone.
"Hey," she said, walking back over towards him slowly, holding a cup of coffee. "Did I miss anything?"
"Nope," Kurt told her. "As you predicted, she brought medicine and dinner, and she seems to think that after the doctor gives the okay, on his next pass-by, we'll be able to start the discharge paperwork."
"That's great news!" she said happily, perching herself on the far end of his bed by his feet. She was farther from him, but there was more room to sit. Watching as he pouted slightly, she chuckled at him.
"You're so far away," he told her, as if she were across the room, or even farther.
"I'm sitting on your bed," she countered with a smile.
"Still, too far away," he muttered, pretending to sulk.
You're so cute when you pout, she thought, but decided not to tell him just then, pretty sure that he wouldn't appreciate it. "I think you're supposed to be eating that food that Alicia just brought," Jane said, changing the subject. "So they'll let you go home." He looked from her to the food and back, grudgingly admitting to himself that she was right.
"And what about you?" he asked. "What are you having, besides coffee?"
"I still have the bagel that Zapata brought me this morning," Jane said, as Kurt handed her the paper bag that had once again been sitting by his tray of food.
"Somehow you've managed to make breakfast last all day," he observed, and she noted the hint of disapproval with which he said it. She knew that what she'd been eating had counted as actual meals, but she'd tried not to think about it. Wasn't it better than nothing, after all?
"There were three huge things in there when she gave it to me," she protested, knowing that to him, this seemingly logical argument meant nothing. All at once, her face tightened in frustration. "I'm trying," she sighed heavily.
Of course, he immediately felt guilty for pushing her. "I know you are. I'm sorry," he said, his hand landing on her left knee, which was pulled up onto the bed and was the only part of her that he could reach at that moment.
The voices in her head were busy disagreeing over whether she should feel frustrated with herself for still having no appetite – even though logically that made no sense – or focusing on the warmth that she felt inside because he cared enough to give her a hard time. In order to prove to him that she was trying, she pulled the bagel out of the bag and broke off a piece, then took a bite as he watched her. Without a word, he squeezed her knee and nodded, then turned to his own hospital issued food. It wouldn't win any culinary awards, but eating it would give him one thing that he wanted very much – hopefully, the chance to go home.
A little while later, they'd each finished eating and were sitting and watching TV. Jane had moved back to the chair, and once again sat holding Kurt's left hand, this time in only her right so that she could angle herself toward the far wall. She had no idea what they were watching, some sort of family comedy in which she had no real interest, but it was passing the time. Besides, Kurt's thumb was trailing up and down across her palm, so she really didn't need to focus on anything else, anyway.
There was a knock at the door and without further hesitation, the doctor – whose name Jane had forgotten almost immediately earlier that day – came into the room. At the same time, Jane and Kurt both let go of the other's hand, Kurt pushing himself up a little straighter for what he hoped was the doctor's final examination before he went home. The older man asked him questions about how he was feeling, consulted his vital signs and the clipboard that Alicia had been carrying around so conscientiously all day, and after a cursory examination, a few minutes later Kurt was declared well enough to go home to continue his recovery.
"I know that you work for the FBI, and that your job is very hands-on," the doctor told Kurt sternly before he left the room, "but even though you're well enough to go home, you're not well enough to go back to work. With your injuries, you need at least a week to recover at home, and after that, you'll still need to take it easy. Your ribs won't get a chance to heal if you're out there chasing criminals at the end of next week." From the look on the doctor's face, Kurt would almost have thought that he'd been watching him for the past twenty-four hours and knew exactly what his job entailed.
Jane sat beside him and smirked. She didn't say a word about the doctor's instructions as he left the room, wishing them well. It was enough that she had been right.
When the door closed, even before Kurt turned to look at her, he knew the look that he would find on her face, and when he finally did look at her, he saw that he'd been right. He knew that she wasn't actually happy about the doctor's warning, but that she found it amusing that her assessment of his need to rest had been correct. Still, he was just a little bit annoyed.
She tried not to look smug when he looked at her, though she could feel the smile on her face and simply couldn't force her face into anything more neutral. Kurt was not one for following doctors' orders when it came to taking it easy, and he never had been. She'd seen him ignore that very warning from more than one doctor in the past, after all. However, she knew that this time there was a better chance that he would do as he was told – or at least, she hoped there was.
If he behaved differently this time, it seemed logical to assume that it would be because of an influence that hadn't been there the last time he'd been injured. It seemed strange to her – the idea that she could have that kind of influence on him… on anyone.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to give him what she hoped looked like a sympathetic smile and reaching for his hand again.
He wasn't upset with her, of course, more at the doctor's stern and eerily observant warnings, but he couldn't help but frown slightly at her.
"No, you're not," he replied quickly, his voice a little sharper than he'd intended.
She bit her lip to stifle a laugh that she knew he wouldn't appreciate. He looked so cute just then, but she didn't think that was what he wanted to hear.
He looked even more surprised than she did when he snapped at her, and even though she didn't look upset – What was that look on her face, anyway? Why did she look almost… amused? – he immediately felt guilty.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking down and sighing heavily. He needed to get ahold of himself, and he knew it. "It's not your fault. You've been nothing but nice to me."
Shaking her head and smiling at him again, she squeezed his hand. "I know it's not what you want to hear. I've never once seen you follow a doctor's orders when he or she told you to 'take it easy.' I'm pretty sure that 'take it easy' isn't in your vocabulary. But I also know that I want you to get better. I mean, what can I say? I'm selfish. I want you healthy so that I know I don't have to worry about you."
"You don't have to worry about me," he told her softly, feeling himself calming down quickly after just those few words from her. How in the world did she have that effect on him, anyway?
Her smile grew wider then. "You know that thing where you worry about me? Which, by the way, I still don't understand, but that's not what we're talking about right now…" She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to reply, but she simply shook her head and continued talking. "Well, that worry thing goes both ways. And I know that I probably give you more reasons to worry than you give me…"
She arched her eyebrow at him sternly when he opened his mouth to reply again, once again ignoring him. "But that doesn't mean I don't. Worry about you, I mean. I don't actually need a reason, and besides, Sandstorm is reason enough." She stopped for a second, feeling a shiver run down her spine, but forced it from her mind. "I guess that's what you do when you care about someone, right? And especially now. After this past week… after yesterday… I can't even imagine…" Suddenly, her voice cracked and then trailed off mid-sentence, but the meaning was clear.
"So, if you don't want to follow the doctor's orders of taking it easy for your own good – which you should, by the way, because helping you heal is kind of a doctor's whole point… If you won't do it for you, then do it for me." She looked at him defiantly, as if she dared him to disagree.
"Jane, I—" he started, but that was as far as he got.
"Oh, trust me, I get it. Because if it was me sitting there, and the doctor told me to take it easy, I would have just as little intention of doing so as you do right now." She gave him a pointed look, noticing that he feigned innocence but that he looked more than a little surprised at the same time, which told her that she'd hit the nail on the head. "But I also know that if that was the case, you would do whatever you had to do to force me to do exactly what the doctor said. Not because you wanted to piss me off, but because you care. Which, again, I don't understand—"
"Jane—" There was exasperation in his voice this time, and she rolled her eyes.
Holding up her hands in surrender, she backtracked slightly. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry…" She shook her head and sighed.
"Can I talk now?" he asked when she didn't immediately continue speaking again.
"Yes, sorry," she replied sheepishly, smiling at the realization that she'd cut him off more than once. "I think you get the point."
"I do," he replied, squeezing her hand. "And you're right… about pretty much all of it. And I love you for it."
She'd expected him to argue, which was why she'd insisted on getting everything out before he interrupted her, so she was taken aback when he agreed so easily.
"I… what? You think I'm right?" she asked, blinking in surprise.
"Yes," he replied with a smile. "I was trying to tell you that, but you wouldn't let me talk."
Smiling self-consciously, she looked away for a few seconds, then back at him slowly. "Sorry," she said softly.
He shook his head at her. "You're absolutely right. If things were reversed, I would insist that you rest, and I wouldn't take no for an answer," he affirmed. "So the least I can do is be cooperative… especially after everything I've put you through lately."
She was annoyed to feel her eyes getting misty yet again, and she wondered when she'd become so damn sentimental. There was nothing to cry about, for God's sake!
Breathing in slowly, she looked up at him with a smile, not speaking until she felt herself regain her composure, so that she'd be able to reply without making herself overly emotional all over again. When she did finally answer, she kept it simple. "Good," she told him.
A moment later, before either of them had thought of anything else to say, the door swung open and Alicia walked in, smiling at them. "Good news, Kurt," she said, holding up a stack of papers. "I have your discharge papers right here." Jane and Kurt both smiled brightly at her as she walked around to the other side of the bed. "As soon as we go through these, you'll be a free man." After a few seconds, she added quickly, "Not that you weren't technically free to go before… Uh, you know what I mean…"
He grinned at her, nodding his head. "I got it," he assured her, just happy that he'd be getting to go home sooner than later. He'd had enough of the hospital for a while.
Ten minutes later, Alicia walked out of the room, telling him that he could change back into his own clothes from the hospital gown, and then the two of them should sit tight while she got him a wheelchair. Hospital policy required Kurt to be wheeled to the front door and then he could walk from there, since there was nothing wrong with his legs. Moving slowly, he took the small bag of clean clothes that Zapata had brought him and walked to the bathroom.
"Do you… need help?" Jane asked hesitantly, not knowing how he would react to the question.
Smiling with only a hint of tension, he replied, "Well, I guess we'll find out…" With that, he closed the door as she perched on the edge of the bed to wait. She wondered if he'd actually let her help him if he discovered that he couldn't do it himself. After everything they'd been through, including the whole issue of the zipper on her dress, she liked to think so. But she supposed that she'd find out shortly.
Kurt was taking his time, trying to avoid any sudden movements that would cause the kind of sharp pain he'd already experienced a few times. After all, he hadn't yet discovered the limits of what he could do without hurting himself, and he wasn't exactly excited about doing so the hard way. Though slight bending and stretching was required, he managed to get his pants on, slowly but surely. It quickly became apparent after that, however, that he had almost the same problem that Jane had had, and he couldn't help but chuckle slightly, despite his annoyance.
The hospital gown was tied in the back in two different places. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been a problem to reach back and simply tug at the strings to untie them, but in this case… it didn't seem worth the risk, considering the fact that he could already feel the strain when his arms moved even halfway to where they would need to be to perform that particular task. No, he'd be better off asking Jane for help.
Normally, this situation would have annoyed him. He liked to think that he didn't have a problem delegating responsibility when it was necessary and work-related, however, he could admit to himself that Nas hadn't been wrong when she'd pinned him as a control freak. From his perspective, it was simply easier to do things himself and ensure they were done right than to ask someone else to do them and have to wonder how they'd be done. Having to ask for help also meant having to admit that he couldn't do something on his own. Stoic, controlled Agent Weller prided himself on his ability to get the job done efficiently and independently. Asking for help? It was a nuisance, especially for something small. This, of course, was pretty much the definition of a control freak, no matter how much he hated to admit it.
But of course, Jane was the exception. The fact that this was almost exactly the same thing that she'd needed his help with – twice – wasn't lost on him, and he had a feeling that she would enjoy it as well. Besides, asking Jane for help was different. Well, maybe it wasn't really different, but it felt different, though he couldn't quite pinpoint exactly why. Maybe, like everything else, it was just because she was Jane.
Pushing the bathroom door open, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him. He was relieved to notice that Alicia hadn't come back yet – not that he was asking anything of Jane that required privacy, necessarily, but… he just felt more comfortable doing this with only Jane present.
Seeing him still in his hospital gown over his sweatpants, she got the message quickly and hopped down from the bed, walking toward him with a smile. She knew that he'd probably be frustrated that he couldn't do it himself, but she felt as though she'd relied on him so much herself that she was glad to be able to return the favor.
"Need help?" she asked without any hint of teasing.
Smiling at her in amusement, he nodded slightly. "Yeah, interestingly enough I have almost the same problem you had at the party," he told her.
Her interest was piqued, and when he turned around so that she could see his back, she saw exactly what he meant. Chuckling softly, she moved her hands gently to his back, by the tie at the top, then tugged gently at the bow there. Her fingers slowly grazed the skin along the edges of the gown, going unnecessarily slowly, before moving down to the middle of his back. Once she'd untied the second tie, her fingers then moved carefully across the bandage that was wrapped around his mid-section. Finally, she withdrew her hands reluctantly from him, having no other excuse to keep them there. Reaching for his small bag, which hung on a hook on the wall, he took out a soft white t-shirt and turned around to face her.
"I haven't tried this yet, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say it might be tricky, based on how it's going so far," he said, smiling at her as he raised his eyebrows, one higher than the other, as he'd done before. It was such an endearing expression, one that she hadn't seen in what felt like a very long time, and it was made even more so because he wasn't trying to insist that he didn't need help. Quite the opposite actually – he seemed to be assuming that he would need her help, and was letting her stand by to do just that. She couldn't explain why, but it made her very happy.
It's because he's showing you just how much he trusts you, the voice in her head suggested, which sounded like a reasonable explanation to her.
She reached forward and took the t-shirt from him, and he slid the gown off of his arms. Having already seen the bandage that was wrapped around a good portion of his mid-section from the back, she wasn't surprised at what she saw on the front of him. Of course, it wasn't surprise that rippled through her momentarily, but she kept her mind focused on the task at hand. He took the t-shirt back from her, shaking it gently and letting it fall out of its folds slowly. Then, almost as if in slow motion, he reached up with it towards his head. The t-shirt wasn't quite all the way up when he stopped, making a quiet noise and then slowly lowering his arms again.
"Not quite there yet," he said, shaking his head and handing her the shirt.
Taking the t-shirt and smiling at him as she replied with the slightest hint of teasing, "Are you sure you don't just like the attention?"
"Oh, I like the attention," he said without hesitation, "but I think people generally try to get that kind of attention when taking their clothes off, not putting them on."
Jane grinned, shaking her head and shrugging. "Well, you know, whatever works," she replied. "Besides, since when were we like most people?" He smiled back at her, once again amazed by how comfortable the situation felt to him. With anyone else, it would have been painfully awkward.
Lifting his shirt up towards his head, with her fingers spreading the neck slightly so that she wouldn't have to tug it down as hard to get his head through the hole, she then tried to smooth it out slightly, wondering if he'd be able to get his arms through next. His right arm came up first, slowly, and he didn't seem to have a problem getting it into his shirt. His left arm followed, just as slowly, but because his movement was now slightly more restricted by the shirt, the rest of his body already inside, the look on his face became slightly pained as he tried to get his arm into the right position. Jane held the fabric out so that it didn't bunch, trying to make it easier, but there wasn't a lot she could do at that point. Finally, after moving in what felt like extra slow motion, he had the shirt on.
"Thanks," he said, suddenly realizing that he was standing in front of her for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. Up until then, he'd always been sitting beside her, and because of his injuries, he'd been unable to turn towards her. She realized the same thing at almost the same time, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, albeit very slowly and cautiously. She did the same, much more gently than usual because her arms naturally fell around the middle of him, and she didn't want to accidentally hurt him. Despite the abundance of caution on both of their parts, this familiar gesture was exactly what had been missing between them since the explosion.
Jane sighed heavily with relief, suddenly far more emotional that she'd expected to be as once again she was hit with the emotion of the past twenty-four hours all over again. She felt her breathing suddenly become erratic, gulping slightly for air as she leaned against him. Almost as if reading her mind – or maybe he suddenly had the same realization – she felt him pull her just a little tighter, pressing his face into her hair. She struggled to breathe evenly, but faltered several times despite her best efforts. He moved slightly, so that his cheek brushed against her temple, attempting to get as close to her as possible. Somehow she just knew that he understood, and that they were having the same thoughts of relief over the fact that he was alive.
"It's okay," he whispered, to which she could only nod, not trusting her voice. They stood that way for a few minutes, simply breathing in and out together.
Their arms had begun to relax slightly when the door to the room opened again, and there stood Alicia, smiling at them with a wheelchair in front of her. Jane turned to look over her shoulder and she and Kurt slowly stepped back from each other.
"I'll bet you two are ready to get out of here," Alicia ventured with a grin. "And right at the end of my shift, too. So let's get this show on the road." Jane stepped aside as Kurt nodded and walked slowly toward her, not necessarily looking forward to the part where he had to ride in a wheelchair, but looking very much forward to going home.
"Do you have everything?" Jane asked. Kurt turned back and thought for a second.
"I need the bag Zapata brought me, that had my clean clothes," he said, looking at it pointedly on the floor, but unable to reach down to pick it up. Jane walked over and got it instead, handing it to him. His sneakers sat just nearby, and he slipped his feet into them slowly. Without waiting for him to say anything, Jane crouched down and tied them for him. He couldn't help but think that of the whole ordeal of getting dressed, watching her tie his shoes had been the thing he disliked the most. There was just something about not being able to tie his own shoes that bothered him even more than needing help with his shirt. Despite the fact that Alicia was standing there, watching and waiting, his hand reached for Jane's and squeezed in thanks, then slowly dropped back to his side.
Picking up the small plastic bag of the few possessions that had been in his pockets when he'd been admitted to the hospital, which had hung inside a small cupboard against the wall, she glanced back at him, then around the room.
"That should be everything, right?" she asked.
"Yep," he agreed. Walking toward Alicia with a grimace, he turned around and sat down in the wheelchair.
Alicia looked at Jane over Kurt's head. "Do you want to drive?" she asked, at which Jane smiled.
"Sure," she said, as Alicia maneuvered the wheelchair out of the doorway, backwards into the hall and turned it in the direction they were going to go. When Jane reached them, Alicia stepped out of the way, and Jane leaned down just beside Kurt's head to whisper, "I've never driven one of these before, but don't worry, I'm usually a pretty good driver."
Kurt chuckled, replying, "I trust you… but please don't hit any pedestrians."
"I'll do my best," she replied with a smile, kissing him on the cheek before standing up again. "You'd better lead the way, or we'll end up lost in here forever," she told Alicia, who walked beside them to the elevator. Jane had no memory of how she'd gotten to that part of the hospital, since she'd been so distraught when she'd been directed to the waiting room the previous day, and again from there to Kurt's room, and she hadn't left since then except to wander to the cafeteria. It was strange, and slightly unsettling, that none of it looked at all familiar. That sensation was a little toofamiliar to her, of course, since it reminded her of so many other time when she didn't remember something but felt like she should.
Jane had gotten a text from Patterson earlier, telling her that Reade would pick them up. As promised, when they went out through the front door, they found Reade standing in the chilly evening air. "Perfect timing," he told them, "I just got here. I'm parked right over there." He turned and pointed over his shoulder at a dark SUV slightly further along the curb.
"Alright, well Kurt, it's been a pleasure – for me, at least. Best of luck with things, and please,take it easy," Alicia told him with a stern but kind look as he stood up slowly from the wheelchair.
He nodded at her with a smile. "I'll do my best," he told her. "Thanks for everything."
Alicia looked at Jane then. "Good luck keeping him from overdoing it," she told her. "I somehow get the feeling that you're going to need it."
Jane chuckled, nodding her head. "Yeah, I get that same feeling…" she replied, glancing at Kurt beside her and shaking her head at him. Looking back at Alicia, she added, "Thanks for your help. And tell Natalie thank you, as well, if you see her. She was really nice to me when I was completely freaking out." She shivered slightly, remembering the previous night.
"Will do," Alicia smiled. "Bye." She smiled at each of them once more, and then turned around, walking back inside with the empty wheelchair and leaving Kurt, Jane and Reade standing by the curb.
"Let's get out of here," Kurt said, taking Jane's hand and squeezing it tightly as they walked slowly to the familiar black SUV. She squeezed his hand right back, breathing a sigh of relief.
Reade climbed into the driver's seat a moment later, watching the other two through the car windows. They were standing outside, negotiating who was going to sit where – that much he could tell without being able to hear their conversation.
"I'm fine, Jane, I can sit in the back just as easily as the front," Kurt was arguing. "You could sit in the back with me, you know."
As nice as that sounded, it was also just a little uncomfortable. It wasn't as though Reade was their driver, after all. She shook her head, not allowing him to talk her out of what she knew was best for him. "Kurt, come on," she sighed in exasperation. "There's more room in front, and you're less likely to bump against anything or have to sit hunched over… I know, the car's not small, but you're underestimating how stiff you are." She looked at the stubborn look on his face, feeling herself getting more and more frustrated with him. "I'm trying to look out for you, stupid," she growled, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, and with enough emphasis that he could see that he wasn't going to win this argument.
"Alright, alright, fine," he sighed. He put his hands on the sides of her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss the bridge of her nose. "You win, okay?" he whispered, letting his hands slide down her arms and then dropping them so that he could turn around stiffly and open the front door of the car. She smiled in satisfaction, glad that she'd gotten him to see reason in the end. Or maybe just that he'd gotten tired of hearing her never ending string of arguments. Whichever one had been what worked, it didn't matter to her.
Climbing into the back seat, she smiled at Reade, who'd turned to glance at her over his shoulder. She slid into the middle seat, so that she could be more a part of the conversation in the front, and had her seatbelt buckled before Kurt finished with his.
"Everyone ready?" Reade asked.
"I'm more than ready to get away from this hospital," Kurt announced.
"That's for sure," Jane agreed emphatically, thinking about what a difference twenty-four hours could make.
As they pulled out into the light traffic of the Thursday evening after Christmas, Reade glanced back at Jane again. "Jane, Patterson said she was going to text you this afternoon. Did you get it?"
"Yep, I got it," Jane assured him. She'd seen the strange text, something about "Tell Weller not to worry about stopping for groceries on the way back – it's taken care of," when she'd walked down to the cafeteria for coffee.
"Good," he replied, not giving anything away. "The ladies apparently have everything under control back at your place," he said, looking over at Kurt. "Or at least, that's what they keep telling me."
Kurt looked at him curiously, glancing slowly over his shoulder in Jane's direction to see if he'd actually be able to turn that far without straining himself. When he found that he could see her out of the corner of his eye without causing himself any pain, he turned farther, to find his limit. Jane could sense that that was what he was doing, and was immensely glad she'd decided to sit in the middle seat. When he was finally turned towards her so that he was looking fully over his shoulder at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes, she simply smiled at him.
"Don't look at me," she told Kurt. "I don't know anything... Except that apparently it's under control." He made a dissatisfied face, and she smiled at him sympathetically. "I know," she told him soothingly, "you only consider it under control if it's under your control."
Reade attempted to stifle a laugh, but was unsuccessful, and Kurt looked at her as if he wasn't sure whether to agree or argue with her. Jane knew that she'd been pushing her luck a little with that comment, and that Kurt was getting better about his need to control things… little by little, anyway. She just hadn't been able to help herself.
"Sorry, sorry," she said with a sheepish grin. Kurt just shook his head at her, saying nothing. He glanced out the window, relieved to finally be going home, and thinking about the logistics of being at home for the first time.
"Hey, we might need to stop at the store—" he began. This time it was Reade who cut him off, not Jane.
"Man, trust me when I tell you that this is all organized. First, we're stopping at Jane's house. It was unanimously agreed upon that she's going to crash at your place and keep you company, and just generally make sure you don't try to sneak into the office – because we all know that you would do just that if left to your own devices. Jane told us that that was your plan anyway. So she's going to grab some of her stuff, and then we're going to head to your place. And no, we know you haven't been home for more than an hour or so in the past week, and no, we don't need to stop at the store. Once again, it's under control."
Kurt looked back at Reade in surprise, and Reade just shook his head, turning back to the road. "Don't look at me. This was not my idea. The ladies just told me what they wanted me to do in all this. You know how they are…"
Since Kurt did, indeed, know how Patterson and Zapata could be when they got an idea going, he wondered just exactly what they'd be walking into. Then another logistical question occurred to him.
"Hey, do you know if my car's still at the office?" he asked. "I drove in yesterday morning, but obviously I didn't make it back to the office yesterday to drive it back home…"
"Not that you are going to be driving in the near future," Reade replied to his passenger, to his passenger's annoyance, "but I believe that the ladies took care of that as well."
"I swore you guys had actual work to do," Kurt grumbled. He knew that he should be grateful, but he was getting a little agitated with the uncertainty of exactly what was going on at his apartment.
"Oh, we've been working," Reade replied. "All this other stuff happened in the past hour or so."
Once again genuinely surprised, Kurt could think of nothing else to say. Jane, on the other hand, could sense Kurt's frustration, and knew that at least part of it came from the fact that he wasn't used to having to depend on other people for the basics. She could most certainly relate to that. Besides that, he was tired and probably in pain, after all.
"Reade, this is all so thoughtful of you guys. Even if the girls were the brains behind it… we really appreciate everything you've done for us… yesterday and today." She flashed back to sitting in the hospital waiting room, which was a hazy memory because of how distraught she'd been, and to the fact that the three of them had taken turns sitting beside her, so that she wouldn't have to be there alone. After everything she'd done to them, and how much she knew that they hadn't wanted to forgive her… they had come around, and it meant the world to her.
"Don't sweat it, Jane," Reade said. "We're a team. That's what teams do."
Jane felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a second she wondered if she was going to cry. After all, to have Kurt say something like that to her, while he was completely wonderful… it meant something different, and was even more surprising, coming from Reade.
Reade didn't realize how his words affected her, but Kurt did. He turned around slowly in his seat to look at her once again, seeing her eyes sparkling, slightly moist yet again. Because of the angle, he didn't trust his ability to reach his hand back to her without pulling on his mid-section the wrong way, which once again annoyed him to no end, so he had to settle for a knowing look in her direction. In the seconds that they looked at each other, their eyes spoke volumes. She knew what he was trying to say, he knew, just like he knew what she wanted to say.
The drive to Jane's place was mostly quiet after that. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, and darkness had already long since descended on the streets, giving the neon lights of the storefronts they passed a mesmerizing gleam. Jane and Kurt were both exhausted, and Reade hadn't exactly had a day off either. The silence wasn't awkward, however. They all knew each other well enough that they didn't need to fill the silence just for the sake of filling the silence.
When they pulled into a parking space in front of Jane's place, it became clear immediately that she wasn't going inside alone. Kurt moved to get out of the car before Reade, who looked back at him in surprise.
"What are you doing?" Reade asked him incredulously. "If there is someone lying in wait, what exactly are you going to do? No offense Weller, but you're not going to be much use in there. Not," he said, looking at Jane quickly, "that Jane can't defend herself, of course…"
"Then I guess you'd better come with me," Kurt grumbled, knowing that Reade was right, but also knowing that there was no way that he wasn't going in there with her.
Jane was standing outside the car, waiting for the boys to decide what was going on. "You guys don't need to come with me. I never really got a chance to unpack from the weekend. All my dirty clothes are still in my bag. I just need to grab my toiletries and shove them back into the bag… if it's okay if I wash some stuff at your place?" She looked at Kurt sheepishly, and he remembered the conversation they'd had when she'd been packing, in which she'd told him that she barely had any clothes to speak of. Basically, pretty much everything she had was in that bag, so there was nothing else she could bring even if she wanted to.
"Of course," he smiled at her, "I'll even let you do my laundry, too, if you want."
Jane made a face at him, but then couldn't help moving closer to him and smiling. She felt as though she should argue, or at least pretend to be offended, but in reality she was still so relieved that he was alive that she would happily have done his laundry. Of course, she probably would have done that for him before he'd gotten himself injured too, if he'd needed her to, for whatever reason. Now… well, suffice it to say that he could probably get away with more than usual with her. Hooking her arm though his, she walked slowly beside him until they reached the door.
While she realized why Reade felt that he needed to come inside, she wished it could have been just herself and Kurt. She was looking forward with impatience to getting back to his place and being able to relax, just the two of them, even if all they did was sit and watch TV.
"When were you last here?" Reade asked her as she took out her keys. Jane thought for a minute, before she could remember. "Yesterday morning," she replied.
"It was secure yesterday morning, nothing out of the ordinary," Kurt said before realizing that he'd just given Reade more personal information than he'd meant to. To his credit, Reade did not react to this statement the way the other two members of their team would have, simply nodding. Zapata and Patterson would probably have had at least a few very interested follow up questions, after all.
"Is there a specific threat, as far as we know?" Jane asked.
"Other than Weller having been almost blown up yesterday?" Reade asked, raising his eyebrows at her.
Jane felt Kurt pull her closer protectively, but she didn't look at him. "Fair enough," she said in Reade's direction, letting herself lean closer to Kurt, who was hovering close beside her as she turned the key in the lock. Pushing the door open slowly, she stepped back so that Reade could go in first. She could just as easily have checked the house herself, of course, but she was enjoying the chance to hang back with Kurt, and Reade seemed to be enjoying the chance to take point on their behalf.
As they watched him advance through the house, then go up the stairs, Jane and Kurt stepped into the entryway, Jane closing the door behind them. Knowing that Reade would be back in seconds, she turned towards Kurt and leaned closer to him until their noses touched, closing her eyes. A split second later, he leaned down the rest of the way and kissed her quickly, then pulled back to look into her eyes. Hearing footsteps, Jane turned towards the stairs, where Reade was now walking back down from the second floor. She turned so that she could lean back slightly against Kurt, squeezing his arm before letting go so that she could do what she'd come to do, and get her things.
"It's clear up there," Reade told her as he passed her on the way to the kitchen.
"I'll be right back," Jane told them, "I'll just grab my bag."
She was up the stairs and back down again, toiletries added to the bag that she'd had with her to Clearfield but hadn't had the energy to unpack, in under two minutes. Kurt was waiting by the door, frowning, and Reade had just walked back from the kitchen. They nodded at each other, silently agreeing that everything there was fine.
Jane, on the other hand, suddenly a feeling of déjà vu, a sensation that reminded her of the time after she'd moved to her second safe house, after Markos had broken into her first one. She remembered the insecurity of realizing that her safe house wasn't actually safe… Now, once again, something had happened – the explosion – to remind them that they still weren't safe, even with Sandstorm significantly weakened. They wouldn't really be safe until it was dismantled completely, she knew, and maybe not even then. That was the worst part, the nagging worry that it would never be enough.
Or, the explosion had just been a coincidence.
Except that Jane was pretty sure that nothing in her life so far had been a coincidence. No, for her it seemed that frustratingly enough, everything that had happened to her, both what she could remember and what she couldn't, had had been orchestrated by Shepherd. There were no coincidences. Shepherd did not allow things to just happen. The more they found out about her past as well as Kurt's, the more certain they became about this.
"You ready?" Kurt asked her, looking at her worriedly. She'd stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and she realized that she'd probably been standing there for more than a few seconds, which was enough to cause him concern. Attempting to shake off the feeling of dread, she nodded and stepped toward the door.
"Yes," she replied confidently, patting the duffle bag on her shoulder and hoping to put off a discussion about what was on her mind at least until they were alone. She turned the handle on the doorknob and opened it, the chilly wind outside rushing in to greet them. They walked back to the car, Reade jogging ahead to get out of the cold while Jane walked more slowly with Kurt. The temperature had been dropping quickly since the sun had set, and it hadn't exactly been warm to start with.
As they walked, Jane couldn't help but feel as if something was off somehow, but she chalked it up to the fact that the wind was picking up and she was shivering through her not-warm-enough layers. She did her best not to let Kurt see how cold she was, not wanting a lecture about how she needed warmer clothes, and vowing to put on one of the sweaters of his that she knew was in her bag when they got to his place.
Back in the car, Jane set the duffle bag on the seat beside her and settled back into the middle of the back seat, once again feeling miles away from Kurt. Though she'd dismissed the strange sensation she'd been feeling as a product of the cold a minute ago, even now, inside the relatively warm car, she felt it again. Glancing through the window behind her, she saw nothing out of the ordinary… nothing to suggest that there was anything wrong except just a strange feeling.
"Guys," Jane said absently, still staring out into the night, carefully checking for anything strange on one side of her and then the other.
Reade and Kurt both turned to look at her, and immediately noticed that she was distracted by something. It was clear to Kurt just from looking at her that something wasn't right. "Jane, what's wrong?" he asked.
"Does anything feel off to you?" she asked, staring hard as her eyes moved over every detail around them.
Kurt looked in the direction that she was looking, while Reade turned to check the opposite direction. None of them could identify anything out of the ordinary, but Jane continued to feel like there was something just, for lack of a better description, "off."
"Did you see something, Jane?" Reade asked, looking back at her.
"No," she replied slowly, "I just… I don't know. It doesn't feel right." Her eyes finally met Reade's, and then Kurt's. "Maybe I'm just tired. We should go."
Reade started the car, checking around one more time. Even though they couldn't identify anything out of the ordinary, he knew that Jane's intuition was seldom wrong and couldn't help but be concerned.
Continuing to look at her with concern, Kurt also doubted very much that whatever Jane had felt had been nothing. "Maybe," he said, "but I'll get someone to come back and look around in the morning, just to be sure." She smiled at him in appreciation, touched that he would take her completely unsubstantiated concern so seriously.
Jane watched carefully through the back window as they drove to Kurt's apartment, unable to let her guard down even for a minute. When she grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car, she looked around suspiciously once again. Pushing himself up slowly to stand, Kurt watched her look around at the night.
"Does something feel off here, too?" he asked.
With a sigh, Jane just shrugged. "I don't know if I'm just paranoid now, or what," she admitted.
"Considering everything you've been through, and everything we've learned about Sandstorm, I don't think anyone can call you paranoid," Reade told her as he joined the other two beside the car. "At the very least, I think you'd be considered 'justifiably cautious.'" Jane smiled at him gratefully.
"Well, I've been instructed to escort you guys upstairs, so let's get moving," Reade told them. "It's getting cold out here." Jane and Kurt exchanged a baffled look and shrugged, got the rest of their things from Reade's car and they all headed towards the building. Once again, Jane hung back beside Kurt, this time taking his hand. After all, each member of the team had seen them together at the party, and had then seen her fall apart at the hospital while waiting to hear whether he would be alright, so she figured that seeing them holding hands wouldn't exactly be a surprise.
Reade walked quickly to the door, holding it open for them. As many misgivings as he'd initially had about the two of them – and he had had many – he could now admit that his initial assessment had been wrong. No, Kurt wasn't the same around Jane as he had been before she'd shown up. Maybe at first her presence had compromised his judgement, but now they worked so seamlessly together, as one unit, it was almost impossible to believe that Jane hadn't always been there.
Upstairs, they walked off the elevator and heard noise before they'd reached Kurt's door. Reade simply rolled his eyes. Kurt raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Are they having a party in my apartment without us?" he asked Reade.
Chuckling to himself, Reade shook his head. "It does sound that way," he replied.
Kurt pushed the door open, and Jane and Reade followed him inside. As soon as the door swung open, Zapata and Patterson turned towards it, exclaiming, "Surprise!" and then laughing at themselves. Jane and Kurt smiled, looking at them in amusement, not missing the beers that each of them was holding.
"Please tell me you got food? That was the original plan, right? Not just alcohol? Which… people on heavy medication can't have…" Reade said, walking towards his partners in crime.
"Of course!" Patterson exclaimed, looking offended. "We already put it away. We were just… passing the time while we waited." They both grinned, making a conscious effort to calm down.
"Weller, we know you need to rest, we just wanted to stick around and say welcome home. We're really glad you're okay," Zapata told him, suddenly looking serious. Her eyes darted to Jane, and her smile warmed before she looked back at Kurt.
"Thanks, Zapata, Patterson… Reade," he said to each of them in turn. "Thanks for looking out for Jane, and for giving me such an, uh… enthusiastic welcome home." He squeezed Jane's hand in his, thinking that he was already ready to sit down. Deep down he was relieved that the doctor had so adamantly lectured him about taking it easy for the foreseeable future.
"We're going to get out of your hair," Patterson promised, "but we just wanted to be sure you know that you shouldn't need to go out for food for a while." Jane noticed that the other two women were finishing their beers, and picking up their jackets. Reade was already eyeing the door. Apparently they really didn't intend to stick around long. As nice a surprise as it had been to see them, she had to admit that she was glad that they were leaving.
"Thanks," Kurt said, looking more and more tired to Jane. "I appreciate it. I'm sure I'll be talking to you all tomorrow."
"Count on it," Patterson said with a smile. "And I'd hug you but… I'm going to refrain, since I don't want to hurt you."
"Same here," Zapata said, moving towards the door.
"Uh, just for the record, I had no plans to hug you," Reade deadpanned, at which time the others couldn't help but laugh.
"Let's get out of here, you guys," Zapata told the other two. "It's late. Some of us are going to be at work bright and early tomorrow. And by some of us," Zapata said, pausing for emphasis as she looked Kurt straight in the eyes, "I do not mean either of you two."
"I know, I know…" Kurt replied, pretending to be annoyed. "You're drunk with power already, aren't you? With me out of the way, you plan to take over."
"It's almost like you can see the future," Zapata told him with wide eyes, again barely able to keep a straight face.
"Get out of here," Kurt told them. "And thank you guys. For everything."
The trio laughed as they went out through the door, and Jane reluctantly dropped Kurt's hand to walk across the room and lock the door behind them.
"I think it's about time we went to bed. What do you think?" she asked him, crossing the room again, now holding both of their bags. She stopped only inches in front of him.
"I think you have excellent instincts, as always," he told her, leaning down to kiss her now that they were finally, really, alone and there was no danger of anyone – not a doctor or a nurse or anyone else – interrupting them. Pulling back a minute later, he smiled at her, feeling tired just from the exertion of the trip home from the hospital.
"You've got pretty good instincts, yourself," she told him, stepping forward and tugging on his hand. "Now let's get ready for bed."
He followed a step behind her as she walked slowly towards his bedroom. Unlike the last time she'd crashed at his place, the night before they'd left for Clearfield, she didn't hesitate at all. There was no awkwardness, wasn't even a thought in her mind that she would sleep anywhere but beside him.
Because… of course.