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nachosncheeze · 3 years

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Thoughts about Taylor Shaw and parallels! (cut bc it's longish and also spoilers for seasons 1, 2, 4, and 5!)

I've thought off and on about the death of Taylor Shaw. On first watch through the series, by the end, I felt like something pretty heinous happened to her (as if death wasn't heinous enough, but I think everyone catches my drift). But I remember thinking what Bill was rambling when he confessed, about "Sarah" and "she was so small" and "thank God, it wasn't her" was weird and not really congruent with the unspeakable things ghost-Bill said and implied in 5x05.

I recently rewatched season 1 and it occurred to me that remarks calling him a murderer and implying other types of foul play seem to come (i think exclusively?) from Kurt and his mother. They also remark/allude more than once to his father having left a party on a booze run the night Taylor disappeared, and they allude a few times to him liking his drink a little too much. It doesn't feel like a stretch to assume he was already drunk when he got in the car that night.

I've been wondering if maybe, in spite of whatever Kurt imagines, it actually was an accident - maybe, for some reason little Taylor was out of bed, Bill didn't see her, and he ran her over with the car ("Sarah; it's not her; thank god; I didn't mean it; she was so small" that maybe he couldn't see her, etc). To be clear that does NOT make it better nor REMOTELY excuse his cover-up. There's no question the man was a piece of crap.

But it DOES make Kurt's state on the day he found Taylor and arrested Jane even more dramatic as a parallel. Clearfield is several hours' drive from New York, and he's shown to have been drinking with Sarah before he even sets out to the campground. And he's certainly not sober sitting in Jane's kitchen with her bottle and glass.

If killing Taylor was a drunk driving accident, then Kurt isn't just acting out of character and angry like his dad, he's echoing his dad's behaviour in a really specific way even more than it might seem at first glance. It makes Kurt, by his own definition, an absolute monster.

I also feel like this sets up a really interesting parallel between early season 2 and early season 4. In 4x07 Kurt says that Remi hates him because he reminds her of what a failure she is - that when Jane fell in love with him, she joined "the enemy" and became everything Remi hated. And sure, in 2x01 Kurt tells Jane he doesn't "hate" her, and he tells the team they have to be civil and work with her... but he certainly doesn't lead with any kind of example in terms of being kind to her or showing much respect beyond the bare minimum needed to get the job done. He's angry at her because she reminds him of what a failure he is - when he fell in love with her, a series of personal events were set in motion that ended with him becoming just like his father, the very thing he hated.

I'm late to the fandom and this was maybe discussed before, but if so I missed it! Thoughts??

#blindspot #blindspot thoughts #blindspot rewatch 2021 #blindspot 1x23 #blindspot 2x01 #blindspot 4x07 #blindspot spoilers

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lurkingwhump · 6 years

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A new Blindspot fic

A/N: A new story which has taken me some time to write because life got in the way. But here you go. First of all, I want to thank my dear beta, @take2intotheshower , and @indelibleevidence for helping me out with the plot points of this fic and generally putting up with me as I rambled about this :D. You guys are wonderful, thank you! Second, any similarities, that you might find odd if you've seen s4, are purely coincidental (they might be a blink and you'll miss it, but still). I wrote those parts well before 4X07 or 4x08 aired :D. Third, a short trigger warning: this story contains description of torture. So, if you are squeamish about that or find it triggering, please do not read.

Finally, please do leave a comment. It helps keep my muse alive (although I'm not sure if everyone wants to keep my muse alive, considering my stories :D).

I'm also including this in my @badthingshappenbingo under the heading "You can scream all you want"

Old Wounds, chapter 1

"Kurt returns home after a long day at the NYO, but Jane is nowhere to be found. Could she have gone on the run again, or might the reason be something more sinister?"

This story takes place in s3, sometimes between Jeller's reconciliation and the end of the season.

Kurt glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time. He walked from the kitchen island to the balcony doors, staring outside for a long moment. It was dark, after midnight already, and the lights of the bridge glimmered like small candles. A frustrated sound escaped him as he walked back to the kitchen island, and grabbed his phone, staring it for a moment. "Call her," one side of his mind told him. "No, it's late. Maybe you should wait a while longer," countered the browsed his call list, debating. He glanced at the coat rack, at his own jacket hanging next to one of Jane's.

He made his way into the bedroom, letting his eyes travel around it. There was the thriller sitting on his bedside table, and a book about Etruscan pottery and art on Jane's. He walked over to the dresser, looking at Jane's jewelry box for a moment, gathering his courage before opening it. He could only see some of her earrings, no sign of her wedding ring. He felt a small flutter of relief in his chest at the realization, but it didn't help with the feeling of dread that engulfed him.

Kurt went back to the kitchen, and poured himself a Scotch before sitting on the couch in the living room. He fished his phone from his pocket and stared at it again, before dialing a number. He waited as it rang and rang, and ultimately disconnected. Taking a sip of the Scotch, he dialed another number.

"Hey, Weller." Patterson's smiling voice soon greeted him. "What's up? Everything okay?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "I came home half an hour ago, after interrogating the suspect in the Dreyer case. Jane's art class ended two hours ago, but she's not home."

"Okay…what if she went out for a drink with some of the people in her class?" Patterson asked gently.

"She would've texted me. I've tried calling her and she's not picking up."

*******************************************************************************************Jane groaned quietly, her head felt fuzzy. The next moment she gasped, as she was drenched with ice cold water. That certainly woke her up. She opened her eyes, confused for a moment. A piece of cloth was stuck to her face.

"A blindfold."

She tried moving her arms, only to hear a metallic clang. "I'm handcuffed to something." She noticed her jacket was gone, shivering slightly as the cold water made her t-shirt stick to her skin. Her boots and socks were gone, too, but she still had her jeans on. Her ankles had something around them, effectively shackling her to what she was lying on.

"Okay, Jane. Focus. Try to figure out what is going on," she told herself, as she calmed her breath.

What she heard next made any attempt to calm her breathing impossible.

"Welcome back, Jane Doe. Looks like the tranquilizer wore off. Remember me?"

She Southern twang was something that was forever imprinted in Jane's brain. One of the men who had worked with Keaton at the black site. "Campbell. Please, not again." Jane was able to suppress a whimper, as memories of her time at the black site hit her full force. She had been able to handle them, to slowly process them over the years, but in the blink of an eye, all of that was gone. She knew.

"You do remember me, don't ya?" His voice was almost glad, but held a menacing note. "And here we are again."

Jane heard Campbell step closer, practically standing next to her. He knelt down, so close that she was able to smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes. She closed her eyes behind the blindfold, trying to take deeper breaths to calm her racing heart. "You were surprisingly easy to get to. Just found out your and your husband's routines, and then all it took was a tranquilizer dart."

Gathering her resolve, Jane decided to speak, managing to sound defiant despite her current position. "What do you want, Campbell?"

He gave a small laugh. "What do I want? Same thing as last time, honey, information."

He got up and walked away. Jane could hear him fiddling with something. Someone else attached something to her ear.

"You caused me a lot of trouble when you broke out, you know that?" He continued, stepping closer again. "You dislocated my shoulder, you fuckin bitch." At the last word, he punched her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her to gasp for breath.

"I lost a lucrative PMC gig in Afghanistan with the Agency 'cause of that! Keaton said I couldn't work with that injury and that I was a risk."

Jane gasped as he grabbed by the hair suddenly, and pulled her head back as he leaned in close. "But now, I don't work for the Agency anymore, not officially anyhow. So, I can hold you as long as I need to get the information."

She shivered again and he noticed. "Cold, are ya? Water is a good way of wakin' up someone."

He stepped back and soon started tracing something up and down her body.

"Turn it on," she heard Campbell say to someone, and next she screamed as her world exploded in pain, filling her head.

"It's also a mighty good electricity conductor," he continued after a few seconds as the shock stopped.

Jane gasped for breath, her muscles feeling like they were torn in three different directions.

"Ever heard of the parrilla, Jane?" Campbell asked, his tone close to that of a teacher.

"No..."

"It's a method used by the Chileans under Pinochet. Secure the interrogee to a metallic bedframe, just like the one you are on right now. And then you can attach electrodes to them and start usin' the electricity. This can go on for hours at a time."

He removed the alligator clip from her ear, attaching it to her finger, ignoring her struggle.

"All I want is information. Some of it for my own purposes, and hopefully somethin' to give to the CIA."

"You really think I haven't told what I know to the task force already?" Jane asked, thinking she might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if it didn't seem so troubling.

Campbell paced back and forth the length of the bed, sounding contemplative. "Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. Keaton always did have trouble believin' you."

Jane suddenly felt very uneasy. "Keaton. Is he still in contact with Campbell? How else would he have found me?"

"So, tell me what ya know of the remainin' cells of the Regiment?"

"About what?" she asked, not understanding the question. A moment later, she realized talking had been the wrong thing as she screamed again as the electricity hit.

"Don't be stupid. You know exactly what the Regiment is! You and your FBI friends took down their leadership."

Jane groaned and let her head fall back onto the metal springs of the bedframe as she fought to speak again." I don't…understand… why…you're asking. It's a closed case."

"As you wish, darlin'," he replied and removed the clip again, only to reattach it elsewhere on her body.

Jane drew in a breath, trying to steel herself against the agony she knew would soon follow.

The interrogation continued for what was probably hours, at least that's how it felt to Jane. Now and then she was able to distance herself from the pain, the same questions asked of her again and again. Sometimes she stayed silent, sometimes she tried to tell him she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Release her from there and cuff her hands behind her back. I don't want to take any chances," she heard Campbell say to someone and soon she felt two pairs of hands manhandle her onto the floor and handcuff her again. Unable to see, and her nerve endings on fire, she didn't resist. She leaned her head against the cool floor, groaning quietly as her muscles felt like they were being torn from the bone.

"Come on, y'all, let's get outta here," Campbell told his men. "You, go turn on our fancy new surround sound system. We need our guest to be entertained."

A minute later Jane flinched as the piercing sound of discordant metal guitars filled the room.

*******************************************************************************************

Reade, Patterson and Kurt were gathered in the lab, Patterson was typing away at her tablet, having dots appear on the map projected on the table.

"Okay, so…Weller, you said that Jane's art class teacher told you she left the class at the normal time yesterday when the class ended. That was here." Patterson pointed to one of the dots on the map.

"Yeah, and a couple of her classmates that I spoke to said that the last they saw of her was when they split up outside to head to their cars." Kurt filled in.

Clearing his throat, and tamping down on the unease creeping up, he went on. "I've checked with the hospitals in Brooklyn and Manhattan so far, but none of them have had someone matching Jane's description brought in."

"I hate to ask this, Kurt," Reade said cautiously, "but are you sure Jane didn't leave again? Did you do anything to…?"

"No!" Kurt cut him off and glared at his friend, gripping the end of the table. "She would've said something."

"We found her car close to LaGuardia."

Kurt sighed in frustration, crossing his arms. "Her passport is at home, along with all her things."

"How about the passports from her K&R days?"

"No, Reade!" Weller growled, his irritation clear. "She destroyed them a while ago. And she would have told me, or left a note."

"She could have used her driver's license as her ID to fly domestically." Patterson reminded him softly. "As much as I hate to play the devil's advocate, how do you know she didn't choose to try and track down some connection to Roman alone, and try to protect you by not telling you?"

"I just know. She wouldn't…not after we've just started trusting each other again," he replied sadly. "And you're monitoring her credit card activity, right?" He asked Patterson.

"Yes, I am. There's no activity on them."

Kurt ran his hand over his face in frustration, and spoke quietly, almost as if to himself. "Something's wrong. I know it."

*******************************************************************************************

Lying on the ground, her muscles still protesting after the latest round of the parrilla, Jane tried to figure out what day it was. She had lost track of the time amid the questioning and torture sessions. It must have been a couple of days at least. It was like the time at the CIA again, but this was worse. Whatever limits or restrictions Keaton had had, Campbell didn't. To him, this wasn't just about getting information; it was personal. Campbell had now stripped her down to her underwear, and kept her handcuffed and blindfolded the entire time. Apparently, he didn't want a repeat of the last time they had met.

Suddenly, she heard the door open and the next thing she knew, she was on her back with someone pressing their knee into her stomach.

"Now, Jane," she heard Campbell's twang from above her. "Are ya ready to tell me, whatcha know of the money transfers made by Jason Ross?"

"I don't know who that is," she rasped out amid the growing pressure. She tried to struggle, but the pressure only increased and she couldn't help groaning. The moment she did, someone grabbed her chin and shoved a hose into her mouth and down her throat.

"Fine, have it your way."

Jane felt the water from the hose start filling her stomach as she struggled.

Above her, she heard her tormentor's voice. "This is a neat little trick used mostly by the North Koreans, or that's what the defectors say." The water was filling her mouth, panic starting to take over as she thrashed against the people holding her, trying to get away. "I'm going to drown or my stomach will burst," a panicking voice in her head told her.

"The Norks fill their victim's stomach with water…..until it feels like it'll tear apart, just like you are feeling now, and then….."

Jane felt the hose being pulled from her mouth, a second before her world exploded in pain.

"They stamp on it." Campbell finished as he stomped down on her, causing Jane to retch violently until her stomach had emptied of the water.

The men holding her left, slamming the door shut, leaving Jane alone again.

Jane groaned, coughing as she tried to get rid of the water she had inhaled. She curled into a ball, trying to will the agony away, but failing. The pain in her stomach was so bad she was sure she had injured something permanently. She moaned quietly, coughing out the remnants of the water. It did nothing to help with the pain, and it was a long while until she felt like she could breathe normally again.

*******************************************************************************************

Kurt paced around the NYO. He wandered almost aimlessly from SIOC to Patterson's lab and back to his workstation again. He'd spent hours shifting through CCTV footage, hoping to find some clues about whoever had Jane. When his eyes felt like they couldn't take it anymore, he'd gone to the gym to work out and try to get rid of the anxious feeling engulfing him.

Reade and the others had told him to go home for a few hours to get some rest, but he couldn't. Being there would make him just increasingly more desperate, more conscious of Jane's absence. So, instead of going home, he ended up having catnaps in the break room, getting a couple of hours of sleep at most.

The uncertainty was driving him crazy. They had found some hairs in Jane's car that weren't hers and sent them for testing. He'd asked Patterson multiple times already about the DNA results, but every time her apologetic but patient reply was the same: even with rushing the tests, getting the results would take at least a day more, if not two.

He sat down at his desk, and buried his head in his hands. "Where are you, Jane? Are you hurt?" He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Are you alive?"

What if she isn't even in the country anymore? What if someone has taken her, trafficked her out of the country? What if they plan on using her for forced labor, or worse? What if they intend to harvest her organs? Oh God, no. The thoughts bombarding him made him feel increasingly more anxious and sick to his stomach. He knew Jane could hold her own, but if she was hurt and they were doing God knows what to her, how long could she fend them off?

"Just hold on, Jane. We'll find you. We have to."

Needing a distraction, he headed back to Patterson's lab, hoping to be able to do something useful.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #jeller #hurt/comfort #angst #tw: torture #whomp #whump #bad things happen bingo #fandom:blíndspot #lurkingwhump

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