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i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind · 5 years ago

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This is my contribution to @holidayblindspot. This was a real rush to get finished so I'm sorry if it doesn't make much sense! I tried 😂🤦🏼‍♀️

This is set early s1.

I also took the liberty of filling my bingo square 'dehydration'

Only 8 days til Christmas!

The first thing Jane realised when she rolled over, was that she wasn't in her bed, she was on a couch.

What the…?

She tried to open her eyes a crack, the light sending sharp tendrils of pain into her head. The second thing she realised, was how unwell she was feeling. Her head hurt and she didn't remember ever feeling this nauseous before.

She brought her hand up to her forehead, trying to rub some of the ache away.

Is this what it felt like to be sick?

Jane had yet to get sick since losing her memories, so she had no point of reference on how bad she could be.

She moved again and the creak of leather caught her attention.

Wait… I don't have a leather couch?

She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly to try and clear her vision.

She was in an unfamiliar room, wearing an unfamiliar hoodie. Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, was a large glass of water and two aspirin. There was a sticky note stuck to the glass.

Take these, drink this slowly.

Jane frowned, sitting up carefully, as not to jostle her head or her unsettled stomach. There was a red bucket in the floor and she wondered what on earth had happened last night. She took the pills and started sipping on the water, before she realised she couldn't remember anything from the last twelve hours.

"Good to see you're still alive."

Jane jumped, staring at the figure who had just entered the room.

"Kurt?" she asked, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, approaching the couch. He was wearing a grey t-shirt and sweats, and had big fuzzy socks on his feet. If not for the situation she was currently in, she would have taken great pleasure in teasing him for his attire.

Jane's mouth fell open. She was in Weller's apartment… wearing his hoodie?

She fluttered her eyes, feeling nervous and incredibly embarrassed.

He stood over her, his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for an answer.

"W-what happened?" she stammered, choosing to ignore his question.

He smirked, seemingly enjoying her discomfort.

"You don't remember?" he asked, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of her.

She shook her head.

He chuckled lightly.

"You fell victim to Zapata and Patterson's influence at the Christmas party last night."

Jane raised her eyebrows, her eyes growing wide.

"Oh god…"

"I guess you didn't drink in your past life… your alcohol tolerance is awful."

Jane put her head in her hands.

"How did I end up here?" she murmured, feeling completely mortified.

Kurt shrugged.

"I wasn't going to let you go home to an empty apartment in that state�� so I brought you back here."

Jane stared up at him, feeling both grateful and embarrassed beyond belief.

"My clothes?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Kurt nodded towards the bucket.

"As I said, your tolerance is low… you got a bit sick… I've washed your clothes… they should be dry by now."

Jane's eyes widened again. So she had gotten drunk, thrown up on herself and passed out on Weller's couch…

Could this situation get any worse?

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I should get going… where are my clothes?" she asked, standing too quickly and making herself dizzy.

"Jane… sit back down… you're not well…"

"I'm hungover… not sick." she replied flatly. She felt so stupid, how could she have let herself get that wasted? He had said it was under Patterson and Tasha's influence - she had seen those two drink before, but it was so uncharacteristic of her.

"Yes you're hungover…" he chuckled, "but you'll be pretty dehydrated… please just stay and drink some more… I'll make you some breakfast."

The thought of food made her already queasy stomach lurch.

"I think I'll pass." she said, pressing her hand to her abdomen.

"You really should eat something…"

"I can eat later…" she tried, standing again - though this time a little more slowly. All she wanted to do was go home, nurse her ego and sleep of this wretched feeling.

"Your clothes are in the bathroom." Kurt said, nodding towards the hallway. "Second door on the left."

She nodded her thanks and headed towards the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her clothes were folded neatly on the vanity. She couldn't believe he had done this for her. He was her boss… she had only just gained his trust… maybe he was doing this because she was Taylor… that had to be it. There was no way he would be taking care of her like this if she was just plain Jane Doe.

She changed quickly and splashed some cold water on her face, before she heard a knock at the bathroom door.

"Ah Jane… I don't think you'll be leaving any time soon." Kurt said through the door. He sounded amused.

"Excuse me?" she asked, feeling a little annoyed. Did he really want her to stay that bad? The thought sent an unfamiliar feeling to her belly, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

"When you're done… come look outside."

Jane frowned, before opening the door and headed for the living room window. Outside she could see nothing but white. Kurt's apartment was a couple of stories up, but even from where she was standing, she could tell there was at least a foot of snow on the ground. The blizzard wasn't giving any indication of letting up any time soon.

Jane groaned, falling back onto the couch with a defeated sigh.

"I guess you get your way then…" she mumbled.

"Jane…" he said, moving towards her with his arms open in a friendly matter. "Don't be like that."

She sighed looking up at him. "I'm sorry… I guess I'm just a little embarrassed."

Kurt chuckled.

"Everyone gets a little drunk every now and then." he said grinning.

"You're enjoying this way too much." Jane huffed.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling.

"So how about breakfast?"

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Jane managed to choke down some dry toast. Kurt had tried to convince her to have a fry up - his 'famous hangover cure' - but she had politely declined. Fry ups seemed to upset her stomach at the best of times.

She did have to admit she was feeling a little better with some food in her belly. Being hungover was a completely new territory for her. As was being in Weller's apartment.

The snow outside still wasn't showing any signs of letting up and Jane couldn't help but secretly relish in the fact that she got to spend some uninterrupted time with Kurt… even if the circumstances as to why she was trapped were less than ideal.

"Why don't you go and get some more sleep?" Kurt suggested, taking in her tired complexion.

Jane looked up at him, feeling unsure. She was exhausted… and she did have to sleep sometime… who knows when she would get to go home.

"You can sleep in Sarah's room if you like." he said, seemingly unaware of Jane's internal monologue.

Jane cocked her head to the side.

"If you have a spare bed, then why did I sleep on the couch last night?" she asked with her eyebrows raised.

Kurt tried to suppress his laughter.

"What?" Jane asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"I tried to get you to sleep in Sarah's bed, but the moment you saw the couch, there was no getting you off of it… it's the 'comfiest nap place in the world'" Kurt replied, making quotation gestures with his fingers.

Jane closed her eyes. Nap place?! This was probably the least mortifying thing she had done last night, and yet she couldn't help but cringe.

Saving her from her own humiliation, Kurt left the kitchen, walking towards what Jane assumed was Sarah's room. She followed him quietly, nodding her thanks as she stepped past him.

"Ah borrow what you like." Kurt said, gesturing to Sarah's closet. "I'm sure she won't mind."

They stood, staring at one another in silence for a moment, before Kurt spoke up again.

"Get some rest." He held her gaze for a moment before closing the door.

Jane blew out a lungful of air.

What a day.

To be so drunk that your boss had to bring you back to his apartment to keep an eye on you, to getting trapped there because of a snow storm.. this was shaping up to be one of the worst days she could remember.

...though maybe it wasn't the worst day. Remembering the way Kurt had looked after her, made her smile softly.

Maybe something good would come out of this after all?

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Jane slept most of the day. If she was honest, it was the first time she had managed to get some uninterrupted sleep, since she had crawled out of that bag. Her nights were usually plagued with faceless strangers and flashes of unidentifiable images she didn't understand.

Kurt had tentatively woken her in the evening, explaining that she really needed to eat something and get some fluids into her. He explained to her that hangovers were practically the body being dehydrated.

She reluctantly got out of bed. Outside the storm still raged on.

Guess I'll be spending the night again. she thought to herself, then shrugged. Kurt was making her feel incredibly welcome. The initial embarrassment was starting to wear off, and they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm.

They ate dinner together, Jane admitting that she was feeling better with some proper food. She decided she was never drinking again. Not with Patterson and Tasha anyway. When she had muttered that out loud, Kurt had laughed, saying that he would check in with her after new years eve.

They had just finished eating when the room went dark.

"Damn." Kurt murmured. "Powers out."

Jane reached for her phone, turning the torch on and Kurt followed suit.

She followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled out his emergency kit. He made fast work of lighting candles while Jane distributed them around the room.

"I guess the storm has caused some kind of power outage." Jane said, filling the silence. The candles, along with the torchlight, had illuminated his living room in a soft glow.

He nodded, though he looked slightly concerned.

"What?" Jane asked, moving back into the kitchen.

"I hope it's not out for long…" he said quietly.

"Why? Are you afraid of the dark or something?" Jane teased.

Kurt smirked and shook his head.

"No… I only have electrical heating." he replied. "With the storm like this… if the power stays out for too long… it's going to get pretty cold in here."

"Oh…" Jane breathed. "Maybe we should-"

"What? Make an igloo?" Kurt interrupted.

Jane snickered.

"No… maybe we should just stay out here… this is currently the warmest room in the apartment."

Kurt nodded.

"You're right." He moved towards the hallway. "I'll be back in a moment." He added, shutting the door behind him to conserve the heat. He appeared moments later with the comforter and pillows off his bed. "Guess you'll be spending the night on your nap place again." he said with a cheeky grin.

Jane groaned. There was no way he was ever going to let her live that down.

They got comfortable on the couch, slightly unsure on what they were going to do seeing as there was no electricity. In a situation like this Kurt would have suggested they watched a movie. Instead he pulled out a deck of cards from the drawer of the coffee table.

"We used to play cards all the time when we were little." he explained, pulling the deck out of the box and shuffling them.

"I… I don't remember how to play." Jane said sadly, waiting for the disappointed flash to cross his face. She wasn't sure if it was the candlelight or not, but the only expression she could see on his face, was pure childlike excitement.

"It's ok… I'll teach you." he said kindly.

They spent the next couple of hours playing cards, until Jane's teeth began to chatter. The power still hadn't come back on and the temperature in the apartment was beginning to drop rapidly.

Kurt frowned, before pulling the comforter onto the couch, wrapping himself in it.

"Come here." he said, opening up his arm.

Jane raised her eyebrow, unsure if they were crossing some kind of professional boundary.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Come on or you'll freeze."

Nervously, Jane scooted across the couch, nestling herself against him.

"Shh. Just relax." he soothed, rubbing her shoulder. His warmth filled her to her very core. The combined body heat stopped the shivers, but also warmed her shattered soul. Kurt Weller was her starting point. He was the reason she got up in the morning, and the last thing she thought about before going to sleep at night.

And here she was… curled up beside him, in his apartment, after being looked after by him all day. She never thought she could feel so content.

"Jane…" Kurt whispered, his voice had a slight edge to it. Almost as if he was nervous.

"Hmm?" she asked, turning so she could look at him.

"Would… would you like to spend Christmas with me?" he asked shyly.

Jane's eyes widened. That was not something she had been expecting.

"I… of course I would." she replied quietly.

She felt him relax against her.

"Sara and Sawyer aren't home until the new year… so you wouldn't have to deal with them… I just thought that maybe, rather than us being alone on Christmas … we could spend it together."

Jane smiled up at him.

"I'd like that."

He returned her smile.

"It will be the first Christmas we've spent together in thirty years."

Jane eyes widened at that. She hadn't thought of it that way. Sometimes she forgot that they had shared a life together when they were children… before she was taken.

Outside the storm raged on. Eventually Jane and Kurt fell asleep together, wrapped up in each others embrace, both for warmth and for the comfort of knowing they had finally found a certain peace within each other.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #jane doe #kurt weller #jeller #blindspot in a winter wonderland #badthingshappenbingo

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holidayblindspot · 5 years ago

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Christmas and the Gang

Written by rAnsomedr0gue, who doesn’t have a Tumblr but has asked me to post for her. She is lurking without an account, though, so if you enjoyed this fic, please say something nice! :D

***

Christmas and the Gang

A/N: This is set during the two-week time jump between 2.10 and 2.11. I’m sure it makes no sense that Christmas would fall during that time but the show’s own internal timeline is so messy I feel like I can take liberties too…

***

Nothing like spending Christmas with your family, Jane thought as she sat on the cold concrete floor outside of Roman’s Zero Division cell. Especially when neither of you remember anything about the holidays, what it’s all meant to be about.

Jane suspected that holiday celebrations hadn’t been a big part of life with Shepherd, she certainly hadn’t had any Christmas-related memories pop through. And Roman seemed to be just as much at a loss, though he appreciated the gifts and the take out roast turkey dinner she’d brought him.

But now that the gift-opening was over they had run out of things to talk about and the terribleness of spending the holiday in a stark concrete bunker was settling in all around them. Roman seemed a bit fidgety too, nervous about her presence.

“Don’t you have something better to be doing on Christmas Day?” he asked, giving her a skeptical look.

Jane shook her head, genuinely had nothing else planned that day. The rest of the team was spending the holidays with family; everyone seemed to have relatives in town that year. She was happy that they were all getting a chance to spend time with their loved ones. They deserved it after how hard it’s been, especially since the ambush that left so many agents dead.

Terrible waves of guilt still crashed within her whenever she thought about what had happened. How it had all been her fault, caught out by Sandstorm’s mole. She felt so horrible for Patterson, tortured by someone she loved. And for Reade, who was still recovering from his leg surgery. Weller too, even though he hadn’t been there for the raid. The guilt he had felt about not being there, being played by Sandstorm. Jane knew it was all on her, that none of this would have happened had she never come up with this plan, erased her own memory.

So of course she didn’t have any plans for Christmas Day, the only family she’s ever known probably lost to her forever. At least she had Roman to spend time with, even if the environment sucked. Although she was just drawing while he read a book, she liked being there, trying to connect with him. He was her only family now, all that she had.

Just then her phone chimed an alert and Jane pulled it out to see that it was her FBI locator app going off, indicating a target on the move, just outside the NYO office. There was no information from Patterson attached to the search though and they weren’t actively trying to locate anyone.

“What’s that?” Roman asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Jane replied. “I’m being given a target to catch but we aren’t working on anything right now.”

“Are you going to go?” he questioned. “Shouldn’t you ask Weller about it before you follow a random signal?”

He had a point, Jane thought. But it was Christmas day and Kurt was busy with family along with everyone else. And the target was still near by, she was the only one at the NYO. It was up to her to find out what it was about.

“I don’t want to bother him if it turns out to be nothing,” Jane said. “I’ll go investigate first and if I need back up I’ll call it in then.”

“You just want something to do that isn’t sitting in an underground bunker. I don’t blame you, you should be out with your friends,” he commented. “So go, if it turns out to be something then at least you’ll see them on Christmas.”

That was sad, she thought. But true. That the only chance she had of seeing the team on Christmas was if they were called in on an emergency.

“Okay, I’m going,” she declared, ready to do anything other than sit around and mope. “I’ll see you later Roman. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Jane,” her brother replied sincerely.

Jane left the NYO building and started following the tracker uptown. Her quarry looked to be on foot so she walked as well, far enough behind that she wouldn’t get made.

It was strange following a signal that she knew nothing about. Jane tracked it for miles and miles until she was in Central Park, amidst families all celebrating Christmas.

Finally, her target had stopped moving, seemed to be staying among the many people ice skating on a large rink in front of her. Jane stared at the crowd of skaters and realized that she had no hope of finding an unknown subject out on the ice. Especially since she wasn’t sure if she knew how to skate, and had no reason for even chasing this person.

She was about to give up the search, glad to have at least gotten some outdoor exercise and entertainment, when a familiar figure caught her eye. Jane turned her attention back to the ice rink, stared at the object of her interest.

It was definitely Assistant Director Kurt Weller, skating with his nephew and his sister. Even from this distance she could tell that he was laughing at Sarah, who was rather wobbly on her skates.

Jane stood there staring, thinking that it couldn’t be a coincidence. The city was huge and the tracker had led her to exactly where Weller was. But it didn’t make any sense. She was sure that Kurt had not set it up, would not want her at this family outing.

She felt like a creep even watching them from the edge of the rink and had just turned to leave when a familiar voice, the one she dreams about, called out her name.

Jane turned back, felt like she had been caught spying. But then again, it was Christmas. And now at least she would get to see Kurt for a minute, although the circumstances were odd.

Weller was just skidding to a stop in front of her, wearing a slightly confused smile

“Jane,” he repeated, a bit out of breath from hurrying over. “Hey.”

***

Kurt Weller chased his nephew around the crowded ice of the Wollman rink, thinking how he hadn’t done something like this in years. Though he still thought it was very strange that Sarah won free tickets specifically for Christmas Day, especially since she couldn’t remember having entered any contests. And didn’t live in New York anymore.

But something something about looking a gift horse in the mouth, and what could be sinister about a family ice skating excursion on Christmas?

He hadn’t been on skates since he was a kid but he hadn’t forgotten how, though it took him a few times around to get his balance again. Sawyer wasn’t bad either, considering he was only ten and hadn’t been ice skating very many times. But Weller had to really keep an eye out for his sister who had already almost crashed into other skaters a few times that day.

He was scanning the crowd for Sarah when he spied a familiar movement at the edge of a group of people watching the skaters. He couldn’t consciously determine what it was that he saw but Kurt knew he had to investigate, went over to check.

Weller tried to keep his eye on his target as he skated to the edge of the rink but it was difficult amongst the holiday crowds. Still, he was able to spot her just as she was turning to leave, could easily identify the way her body moved.

“Jane!” he hollered, unsure what to make of her appearance here. It could just be a coincidence, maybe she was just out for a walk and happened to stop and watch.

Or maybe it was the universe trying to do him a favour.

Thankfully Jane must have heard him, because she turned back towards the rink and watched as he thankfully managed to skid to a stop without falling.

“Jane,” he called, slightly out of breath. “Hey.”

Jane smiled, came down to meet him at the edge of the ice.

“Hey Kurt,” she said, a bit shyly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied. “What are you doing here?”

Jane looked at him nervously and Weller wondered what she could possibly be worried about, then thought about how adorable she was with that little furrow in her brow.

Stop it, he thought to himself. It was a constant battle to keep inappropriate Jane-related thoughts out of his head. Even after everything that had happened between them. Maybe because of everything that had happened between them.

“This is going to sound weird,” she started, pulling out her phone and showing him the indicator on her locator app. “But this started going off when I was with Roman and it was right outside the NYO so I followed it. And it led me here.”

“You followed a lead on your own without knowing anything about it?” he exclaimed, already looking around the rink in alarm, searching for possible danger. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Jane sighed, pulled into a defensive posture.

“It’s Christmas and I didn’t want to disturb you if it turned out to be nothing. Which it did,” she grumbled.

Dammit, he thought. He always did this, made her pissed off by being unreasonably worried about her.

Weller took a few deep breaths, told himself to calm down. It was Christmas, and nothing nefarious seemed to be happening at the ice rink. Plus, Jane was right there, what else could he want from life?

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I just don’t like the idea of you out there on your own.”

Jane’s expression softened and she gave him a small shrug.

“Good thing it led me to you then,” she said, her green eyes flickering playfully.

Every day he loved her more. He could admit that to himself now.

“We should find out if you know how to skate,” he said, the line coming to him out of nowhere. “Someday it might be required for tactical purposes.”

Jane flashed a sly grin and he knew he’d already won.

“Well, when you put it that way, it does seem pretty important to find out,” she replied mock seriously.

Weller grinned, unsure what to make of of his good luck. But for once he wasn’t going to let his worries get in the way.

“Let’s get you some skates,” he said.

They rented some skates for Jane and immediately Kurt knew he was in trouble. She laced them up like a pro and walked over to the ice confidently, then stepped onto the rink and started skating away from him faster than he could manage.

Goddamn it, he thought. She was good at everything.

It was nice to have a goal though, someone to chase. Kurt dodged other skaters, keeping his eyes on Jane whipping about, but try as he might, he couldn’t catch up to her until she mercifully stopped.

“That was fun!” she gasped, her cheeks ridiculously pink.

“I guess ice skating is part of Navy SEAL training now,” he commented, impressed by her as always.

Jane grinned and shrugged.

“Maybe I had to go undercover as a Canadian,” she conjectured. “Part of the essential skill set.”

Weller laughed at the impish look on her face, more relaxed than he’d seen her in awhile. Things had been so dire for Jane ever since she escaped from the black site, her life always in danger. At least now she was done with the Sandstorm missions, being a double agent. He slept so much better knowing she wasn’t out there alone with a bunch of terrorists.

He would sleep even better if she were close enough to personally observe.

Kurt shook the thought out of his head but couldn’t stop himself from offering her his hand, feeling as nervous as a schoolboy. And his heart thumped in his chest when she snaked her fingers between his, grasped his hand tightly.

“So, you think you’re qualified to catch a perp on skates?” Jane asked with a twinkle in her eye

Not if that perp is you, for the crime of stealing my heart.

“I think I’ll leave that one up to the undercover Canadians,” he admitted with a shrug.

They made their way around the rink a few more times, Jane tugging him along. Kurt was just looking around for his sister and his nephew when a teenage girl started skating right beside them.

“Kurt Weller?” the girl said. “This is for you.”

She produced a plain white envelope and he took it without thinking, so bewildered by the situation that he didn’t even notice the delivery girl skate away.

They slid to a stop and Weller looked at Jane in surprise. He could see that she was also confused, looking at the envelope with suspicion.

Unless it was some sort of chemical or biological agent, there wasn’t much that could fit in the envelope in his hand. Really, it did not appear dangerous so Weller threw all caution to the wind and just opened it.

Inside was a pair of tickets to the rare Christmas Day NFL game that afternoon, the seats were even quite good. Kurt glanced around again, baffled, but the courier was long gone by then. All he saw was Jane, standing in front of him, a frosty rosy delight, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

He should be suspicious, ready for some elaborate set up. But it was Christmas, and he had Jane right there, two tickets to the game in his hand.

It was a good thing his nephew and sister had other plans for the afternoon, wouldn’t be into a football game anyhow.

“Bet you’ve never been to a football game,” Weller said with a grin. “Beer and hot dogs are on me. But we can’t tell Zapata and Reade about these tickets, they would give us so much crap about not being real football fans.”

***

Tasha Zapata was not a holiday person, couldn’t be bothered with all the lights and tinsel that just had to come back down afterwards. And family gatherings generally led to too many insinuations about boyfriends and babies and the life she’d chosen.

Though she could get down with the whole drinking aspect of the season; in fact, saw alcohol as her only chance at surviving the ordeal.

Case in point she was already a few drinks in and it was only early afternoon. She had started with a bloody Mary at breakfast, a little hair of the dog to chase away the remnants of the previous night. And then of course she had to have a celebratory mimosa as well, followed by another glass of champagne.

Tasha sighed, felt the need to both slow things down and speed it up all at once. She was not usually that hard a drinker, not anymore. It had been bad at one point, after her partner had died on the job while she was with the NYPD. But then alcohol had started to take a toll on her job performance and she managed to shut it down before it got in the way of her future. But really she’d just replaced one bad habit with another, more expensive one.

Since then she drank socially and not usually to excess anymore. But things had been stressful as fuck at work pretty much ever since Jane showed up just over six months ago. First with Carter blackmailing her then with Weitz doing the same shit. She was done with shady powerful men screwing with her life. She wanted the authority to take them all down.

The tattoos were such a mind fuck because of that. They pointed at corruption, created action, which Zapata loved. But Jane had been planted by terrorists, hell Jane was a terrorist before she wiped her own memory. It was still hard for Tasha not to think of Jane as anything but the Trojan horse she was meant to be. Especially with Weller being so insanely sure that Jane was on their side, unwilling to even consider the idea that she could be stringing them along.

But then again, when had Weller ever been objective about Jane? Even when she had just escaped the CIA and come back, he hadn’t been able to shoot her, despite Jane trying to goad him into doing it. Tasha had stepped up with no qualms at all, had been more worried that she wouldn’t stop at one shot than she had been about shooting their former teammate.

And then ever since, Weller had trusted Jane, had consistently been worried for her, not about her. Even when he’d been angry as hell, didn’t want Jane around. He had been disproportionately concerned about her, never wavered in his support for her.

It was hard for Tasha to wrap her head around, especially since what happened at the Sandstorm compound, the explosion that had caused so many deaths. She wanted to blame Jane, because she had led them there, because she had started this all by lying to them in the first place. But Zapata knew deep down that Jane was with them, that she had been from the start. Sure, she had made mistakes but Tasha had fucked up too, sold her teammate out to the CIA. She still felt guilty about that and about sleazy fucking Matthew Weitz.

The truth was, Zapata just wanted to have someone to pin the blame on, someone that wasn’t herself. Jane had gotten played, outed by her own plan, her own recruit. But she had almost died too and was doing her best to fix the mistakes of her past. So it was hard to be too mad at her.

After all, none of them had suspected Borden of being a mole, so that was on all of them. Tasha shuddered, thought about how she had encouraged Patterson to go out with him. And now Patterson had been horribly hurt both physically and mentally, was still trying to repress all the trauma she had gone through. Zapata had even tried to convince her to spend Christmas together, because she knew her friend would spend the day working from home, hiding from the world. But of course Patterson had declined the invite, mumbled some excuse about having to skype with her parents.

Zapata sighed, hated being half cut and maudlin, wanted to just call Reade up and bitch to him about the holiday season, all the crap in their lives. But of course even that relationship had gone to shit since he had unexpectedly come on to her.

Now that was a topic she wasn’t meant to think about. She had been so shocked in the moment, unsure how to respond. Her first thought had been ‘this is a terrible idea’. Her second thought, ‘but possibly terrible in a very good way’.

Of course she had run away instead of confronting it, cut it off quickly and hopefully permanently so she doesn’t ever have to make that choice again. Because the thought of having a relationship with Reade made her extremely nervous in a way she didn’t want to explore.

Tasha shook her head, annoyed with herself. She was moping by herself on the couch while the rest of the family was in the kitchen helping prepare dinner. But the thought of joining in with them wasn’t appealing either, would just lead to more drinking and behaviour that she’d end up regretting.

Thankfully there was a knock on the door just at that moment and no one else could hear it due to the din in the kitchen. Zapata figured that any distraction was better than nothing, wondered who could be at the door on Christmas Day when everyone invited was already there.

She answered the door and it was a courier, with an envelope generically addressed to Female FBI Agent. Which made no sense at all, to receive mail not in her name; especially since she was at her grandma’s house and not her own. But the courier didn’t know anything about the package, just said it was for a female FBI agent at that address, handed it to her and left.

Tasha did a visual inspection of the envelope, then probed it with her fingers. It seemed like nothing except paper was inside. Which didn’t mean there wasn’t any risk but Zapata was drunk and curious so she slit it open anyways.

Inside were two lower tier tickets to the NY Giants game that afternoon, great seats that she could never afford for herself. Zapata ran into the kitchen and interrogated her family until she was satisfied that none of them had any idea about where the envelope had come from. When it was clear that the tickets were a gift from an unknown deity, Tasha shrugged and decided it did not matter who had sent them, even if it was some sort of trap.

She was going to the football game! And of course she knew what she needed to do next. No matter how awkward things would be. If she went to this game without taking Reade, he would hold it against her for life. And really there was no one else she wanted to go with, even with weirdness between them.

Zapata pulled out her phone, dialed his number.

***

It had been a pretty shit year, Edgar Reade concluded as he watched his relatives argue about politics, the government. Sometimes they seemed to forget he worked for the FBI, that the whole distrust of authority thing pissed him off.

Though he had to admit he was seeing things in a different light since they had started investigating the tattoo cases. As screwed up as it was to be lead by terrorists into an ant-corruption effort, it had highlighted a lot of the problems in the system.

Then again the same terrorists had just tried to kill him, his leg still not quite a hundred percent after nearly two weeks of recovery. Though he was determined to go back to work after Christmas, had enough of sitting around, thinking about all the things that had gone wrong in his life recently.

The whole Coach Jones situation. Freddy. That tape he hadn’t watched yet. All this was hanging over his head, tinted every thought.

That and the other thing.

Zapata.

Damn. In some ways that was worse to think about than the possible childhood abuse he’d suffered. He hadn’t talked to her since he’d made a move on her, mistaken her sympathy for something else.

Reade told himself it was the drugs, emotional residue from almost dying in that explosion. That he didn’t want to make out with his best friend, that he hadn’t always wondered what it would be like if they fucked.

It was Tasha. His partner, his wingman. She was off limits and he’d screwed it up.

She would forgive him of course. But it was going to be awkward between them for awhile. Zapata was not going to want to talk about it, her disdain of any discussions involving feelings well documented. And she was going to hold it over him forever.

Reade sighed to himself, wished he was anywhere else so that he could at least stop lying about how he injured his leg, stop feeling so disconnected from his family.

Of course he really just wanted to be with Tasha, despite all the ribbing he would take from her. He couldn’t stop thinking about waking up to her holding his hand, that worried expression on her face. It still made him feel less sorry for himself, even if he had messed it up afterwards.

Reade had just decided to have another drink, try to knock all thoughts of Tasha Zapata of his head when his phone rang, and of course, it was Zapata.

“You have an hour to get to Metlife stadium, I have tickets to the game. Don’t ask questions, don’t tell me you can’t ditch your cousins,” she stated firmly. “I’ll see you there.”

Well, that was unexpected and slightly bewildering, he thought to himself. And yet, Zapata had said she had tickets to the game so it was a pretty big risk to ask questions, challenge her conditions.

Reade pushed himself to his feet, made the rounds and effectively ditched his relatives with excuses of an urgent work matter. It was only half a lie, he figured. Tasha was from work and free tickets to an NFL game could certainly be construed as an urgent situation.

With that settled, he got an uber, wondering what the hell was going on. Zapata had sounded serious but possibly drunk. Which could go all kinds of sideways considering their recent history.

Damn, he hated overthinking things with Tasha. They had always been such good friends. He would just play it cool, act like nothing had happened unless she brought it up.

Reade got out of the car at the stadium, looked around and spotted Zapata right away. She saw him too and came walking over, waving the two tickets in her hand.

“Look at these seats!” she crowed as she held the tickets right up to his face. “I’ve never sat this close before.”

“Where did these tickets come from?” Reade asked, suspicions aroused. There’s no way Zapata got them from family, not at the price of NFL games those days. And she was clearly half cut, had that looseness to her body language.

“Courier showed up at my grandma’s place, had an envelope for me,” Tasha admitted. “All that was in it was the tickets.”

“What?” Reade asked. “That’s nuts, Tasha. Wait. This envelope just says Female FBI Agent, it’s not even addressed to your name. And how did a courier know to go to your grandma’s house with something for you? I can’t believe you opened it, there could have been anthrax in there or something.”

“You think I didn’t think of that?” Zapata replied hotly. “But it felt like just paper, no powder or anything. And I was pretty drunk so I just went for it.”

“Oh you’re pretty drunk are you?” he teased. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Screw you, Reade,” she replied easily. “So we going to this game or not?”

Damn, well obviously they were going to end up in that game, he realized. No matter how strange the circumstances of the tickets were. They were there and they had amazing seats.

“Well, it’s really weird,” he declared. “I think we should do our due diligence and check it out, make sure it’s nothing.”

Tasha grinned at him winningly and they headed into the stadium, searched for their seats. It was almost game time so they hurried, as fast as his healing leg could manage. Of course Zapata still managed to stop for drinks too, was clearly getting ready for a rowdy time.

When they got nearer to their seats Reade started to feel a sense of something odd. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it until he looked down the row at the only empty seats left and saw a strip of tattooed skin.

As he and Zapata made their way down to their seats, Weller and Jane stood up too, looking as confused as he was.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Tasha exclaimed loudly.

Weller shrugged, looked suspicious but not overly worried. Which was unusual in itself.

“We were skating in Central Park when a teenager approached me with an envelope and then took off,” he explained. “These tickets were in the envelope. What about you?”

“So weird, basically the same shit. Courier came to my grandma’s place with an envelope for me,” Tasha replied. “No way to trace it so I thought I better go to the game and rescue Reade from being a sad sack on Christmas.”

Damn, she was pretty drunk already, he thought yet again.

“Wait, you guys were skating?” Zapata asked, switching tracks.

Both Weller and Jane started blushing, looking away shyly though it wasn’t exactly a surprise to anyone. Even after she had been exposed as a liar, Weller still looked at her the same desperate way. The way that said I think about you all the time even though I know I shouldn’t.

“Yeah well the locator tracker on my phone just started going off, and I followed it to the rink,” Jane explained hastily. “And Kurt was there with his sister and nephew but he made me go skating. For tactical purposes.”

It was clearly an inside joke of some kind because Weller grinned idiotically at her, the way he does when he thinks no one is looking.

“There’s been a lot of strange things going on today,” Reade concluded, looking at his teammates. “All of which to set us up to be here. Should we not be worried?”

He didn’t want to be the guy who put a damper on things but they were fighting a terrorist organization with a huge reach. What if they were targeting the game and trying to take the team down with the rest of the stadium?

“Oh lighten up Eddie,” Zapata said, stressing the nickname she liked to bug him with. “It’s Christmas and it’s football. Look at these seats! And even Weller is drinking beer. So relax and take this.”

She passed him a beer and he didn’t have much choice but to let go of his misgivings, sit back and drink his beverage, enjoy the game and the fact that Tasha was too drunk to care about the current state of their relationship. After all, she was right. Even Weller seemed loose, was explaining the rules of football to Jane, leaning in closer than necessary even with the loudness of the crowd.

The game was a close one, with the Giants scoring first but the visiting Steelers coming right back to tie it. It went back and forth all game right up to the start of the fourth quarter, which started with the Giants up by three.

Tasha was trying to get a rise out of Weller by dissing the Pennsylvania based football teams with Jane looking on in amusement when the game went to commercial break on television and the in-arena entertainment started flashing on the jumbotron.

Reade looked up and saw that it was the Kiss Cam, groaned inwardly feeling like the universe was poking fun at his mistake. The camera flashed to a few different couples who all seemed happy to satisfy the crowd’s desire to see smooching.

And then he saw a familiar hair flip on the screen, a toss of long brown hair strands that he would recognize anywhere.

“You’re on the screen, Tasha!” he shouted, even though she was sitting right next to him.

Now he could see Weller too, and the cameraman was flashing between showing just Weller and Zapata on the screen to just Weller and Jane. It was clear what the question was, the only thing Reade was unsure about was whether Kurt had drunk enough beer to answer it.

What he had never anticipated was that Jane had drunk enough beer and had such epically low alcohol tolerance that she was the one to step up and answer the question for the cameraman. She leaned over and kissed Weller, tentatively for about a nanosecond before they were both all in, unstoppable.

Zapata grinned like a maniac watching, turned to Reade and winked.

“You think I should have gone for it before Jane jumped him?” she asked.

Reade laughed and looked back at the jumbotron just then, saw, to his dismay, that the kiss cam had only just moved over two seats and was firmly focused on Tasha and him.

Shit, he thought. Like a fucking nightmare come to life.

Or like a dream.

Because Zapata was now wasted, like probably not going to remember the second half of the game wasted. And so she reached up to pull him towards her, was kissing him before he even realized what the hell was going on.

It took him half a moment to decide that he had better just go with it. To try and control Tasha at that point would have been pointless. And even if she did remember, there was no doubt who made the move this time.

Reade pulled her to him, the kiss lasting longer than he expected. It felt so good to be connected with Tasha at that level, so illicit too. He didn’t want it to end, kept reaching for her lips even as she drunkenly pulled away, flashed him a self satisfied look.

“I didn’t do that,” she slurred at him seriously.

Reade was still stunned, Weller and Jane too by all appearances. They all stared at Tasha in amazement, barely noticed as the jumbotron announced that they were all winners in the contest, that a team representative would be by shortly to give them their prizes.

When the prize arrived it was again just a plain envelope, with what appeared to be cardboard inside. No one even questioned the safety of the situation this time around and Reade opened the envelope to reveal five tickets to the Rockettes show at Radio City Music Hall that night.

Jane voiced what they must all have been thinking.

“That doesn’t make any sense. There are four of us why would they give us five tickets?”

But of course none of it made any sense at all. From the tracker that had sent Jane to the ice rink, to the envelopes with the football tickets in them. The Broadway tickets were just another oddity along the way. And it was obvious to all of them who the fifth ticket was meant for.

So they all hopped into a cab, ready to spread their weird Christmas luck.

***

Patterson had reverted to an old coping mechanism. Whenever her feelings had overwhelmed her as a child, she had hidden away in her closet by herself. For whatever reason it had helped her feel like her emotions were contained within that space, that they couldn’t follow her out into the world and upset her there.

Not that she was hiding in a closet. But her apartment was her closet now, or her lab at work. A place where she could hide away from the world and pretend it didn’t exist. Trick herself into believing that none of the horrible things that had happened to her that year could hurt her.

She had lied to her family, told them she had to work on Christmas so she couldn’t make her usual visit home. There was no way she could have dealt with that, seeing her parents. She would have fallen apart with them, and they would have gotten it out of her somehow. The whole terrible ordeal, at least everything that wasn’t classified. And there’s no way Patterson could have dealt with that. She wasn’t ready to tell her story, wasn’t sure she ever would be.

So she had hidden away with junk food and her pain. Tasha had asked her if she wanted to spend Christmas with her but Patterson had declined her friend’s well-intentioned invite. Like everyone else, Zapata just wanted to help. But Patterson wasn’t the kind of person that accepted help easily, or at all.

She was already far into the second Lord of the Rings movie, the extended cut of course, when there was a knock at her door. Patterson considered who it could be at dinner time on Christmas Day, then stopped to grab her service weapon on her way to the door.

Patterson opened it a crack and was not particularly surprised to find Tasha Zapata there, smelling of alcohol and hollering somewhat incoherently. She was, however, quite shocked to find Reade, Weller, and Jane on her doorstep as well, all of them also exhibiting various levels of inebriation.

They all yelled Merry Christmas at her together, a bit out of sync but overall it was still pretty adorable. Even when she was at her worst, at least her friends could make her smile. Especially when Zapata was rambling about the Giants game, the kiss cam, tickets to the Rockettes show and everyone else looked somewhere between self-satisfied and embarrassed.

“Wait, did you just say Jane and Weller won the kiss cam contest?” Patterson exclaimed, all her troubles put aside for the moment.

Jane blushed like crazy, then shook her head in desperate denial.

“No,” she stated. “There’s no way we would have won without Tasha and Reade jumping in on the action.”

“What!” Patterson yelped. “I would have sat through football to see this.”

“I was drunk!” Tasha shouted, as if it wasn’t obvious. “And Jane’s right, I totally won us these Rockettes tickets. So let’s go. Our cab is waiting for you, Patterson.”

Leaving her apartment and going tot a cheesy Christmas Broadway show was the last thing that Patterson wanted to do. But she didn’t want to argue with her team, especially with a wasted Zapata. And she had to admit it was kind of nice to see them all together on the holiday.

So Patterson quickly got ready to go out and they pulled up to the show just in time to get to their seats before it started. Just like the football tickets, their seats for the show were great, the dancers right there in front of them.

The show was better than Patterson expected and she found herself getting into the magical dance scenes, especially because Jane was sitting beside her, as wide-eyed as a child watching the spectacle. Patterson thought about how nice it was to see everyone so comfortable with Jane again, that they were together for Christmas after such a brutal year for all of them.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she wasn’t able to complete the Lord of the Rings trilogy by herself, that these mysterious things had been happening to the team all day. Even though she felt like she should be more suspicious of everything, the oddness of it all. The rest of them seemed to have thrown all logic out the door, probably due to the holiday drinking. But Patterson was still on the lookout for some sort of trap, anything strange.

It finally happened near the end of the show, during the big finale. Patterson saw a man sneak onto the stage, pull out a gun. Then another man stood up in the middle of the crowd and fired a shot into the air.

Both men started running after that and the team mobilized quickly despite the amount of alcohol still affecting them. They all pulled out their weapons and split up to chase the two different gunmen. Jane and Weller followed the guy from the stage while Patterson, Zapata and Reade chased the man in the crowd.

Patterson ran ahead, glad that at least someone was sober amongst the five of them. The man they were chasing made for the emergency stairs, then started heading up towards the roof. Patterson followed close behind, her gun drawn and ready for action.

When they finally got up to the roof, the man they were after was nowhere to be seen. Patterson, Zapata and Reade looked at each other, befuddled. There was no way he could have escaped them.

Just then, another door to the roof opened and Jane and Weller appeared out of it, looking just as confused as Patterson felt. “What the hell?” Weller yelled. “I saw our target come up here, he would have run right into you guys. Where is he?”

“Same thing happened to us,” Patterson explained. “We got on the roof and our guy had just disappeared.”

She tried to say something more but found herself being drowned out by the sound of an incoming helicopter. Patterson looked up to see what looked like an FBI helicopter about to land on the same roof they were on. The team all pulled back to a safe distance and stared at each other, clearly all baffled by the situation.

When the helicopter finally landed, an FBI agent jumped out and called out their names, said there was an urgent situation that their presence was needed for. Weller questioned the agent and seemed to be satisfied with the answers he got because he waved them into the helicopter, told them all it seemed legit.

Except for the part where no one at the FBI could have known that they would be at the Rockettes show, much less on the roof at that exact moment. Unless Weller had called it in, but even so, that seemed like a huge stretch.

Patterson exhaled worriedly, wondered what they were getting themselves into. Her teammates were still somewhat drunk and they weren’t properly armed or dressed for a mission. Yet she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else at the moment, certainly not at home alone while her friends were together on a sketchy Christmas field op. Despite the large possibility that they were walking straight into an elaborate trap.

***

As her beer buzz started to fade and the situation became less shrouded with alcohol, worry began to creep up Jane’s neck. Even though Weller had checked the agent’s ID and authorization, none of it made any sense at all. How could a helicopter have known that they would be chasing disappearing suspects on the roof of Radio City Music Hall?

But at least she was the team. Christmas had already been better than expected, even if it did end up with them abducted. Jane flushed at the memory of skating with Weller, his hand warm in hers. Then reaching up to kiss him in front of an entire stadium full of people. She still couldn’t believe she had done that. Well, yes she could. She had been quite drunk and it’s not like she didn’t still think about how perfect it had felt, the first time she found a moment just for them. Right before her life got exponentially complicated.

The helicopter began to descend in a densely wooded area, presumably in upstate New York based on the direction and time traveled. When it landed, there was nothing nearby except a cabin, all lit up with Christmas lights on the outside.

They all got out of the helicopter and it flew away without giving them any more information on why they were there. The pilot had claimed to know nothing except that where he was meant to drop them off, that further instructions would be given once they arrived.

Everyone drew their weapons and they split up into groups to do a perimeter check of the building before entering. Jane and Weller went around back, saw that the cabin had a nice deck and a fire pit, with a bonfire already going, more wood piled nearby. They approached the back door and the windows that looked out onto the deck. It didn’t appear that anyone was inside, but it was lit and prepped for festivities.

Jane reached for the doorknob, wasn’t all that surprised to find it unlocked. The day had been extremely strange already, she was no longer shocked by anything.

When she opened the door and walked into the cabin Jane was assaulted by multiple aromas all at once. The scents of roasted turkey and pine trees and spiced cider tickled her nose as she looked around to see a full Christmas dinner laid out on the table, along with copious amounts of alcohol, and mistletoe. A lot of mistletoe.

Jane looked at Weller, saw that he appeared to be as confused as she was. Just then the rest of the team entered the cabin through the front door and they all stood around staring at the table full of food, the absurd amount of decorations.

“What’s that?” Patterson asked, pointing at a package in the middle of the table.

It was a slim gift-wrapped item, arranged as the centrepiece with a placard that said “The Gang”. Weller grabbed it and tore off the paper.

“It’s a tablet,” he stated, handing it to Patterson.

Patterson took the device and looked it over, powered it up.

“It’s only got one video on it,” she reported.

“Well play it,” Zapata urged. “So we can start drinking again.”

Patterson pressed play on the video and a familiar face appeared on the screen, followed by his equally familiar, grating voice. Weller groaned as soon as he heard who it was and Jane sighed as well, shook her head in exasperation.

“Merry Christmas my good friends! Or Happy Hannukah, if you prefer, though I think that was done days ago and none of you present as Jewish. Anyways, happy holidays from your friendly neighbourhood felon, I hope you’ve all had a better day than I’ve had. Which isn’t exactly hard considering I’m enjoying the fine amenities of the federal penitentiary system. Not that I’m complaining, but there isn’t a lot of opportunity to go ice skating or to a football game or to a Broadway musical. Or even just to have Christmas dinner with your family.”

Patterson pressed pause and they all looked at each other, stunned.

“Rich did this? How?” Weller grunted irritably. “He’s in prison. And why would he do this?”

“I bet he tells us,” Reade commented dryly. “Let’s hear what else he’s got to say.”

Patterson pressed play again and the video of Rich continued.

“So I bet you guys are wondering how I did this all from my cold lonely prison cell. But what you should be asking is why I did this all from my cold lonely prison cell. Because the thing is, criminals, they really can be such gossips. And word on the street was my favourite FBI team just took some hits so I thought to myself, Rich, it is your duty to give your good friends at the bureau a Christmas together. So I did this for you. Well, really, I did it for Stubbles and Jane but they’re such suckers for the rest of you that I couldn’t leave anyone out. Well, except for that scary NSA lady, I definitely left her out. That was for you, Jane.”

Rich paused and winked at that point, leaving time for everyone to stare at Jane and Weller who were both blushing, trying not to look at each other. Jane shook her head and bit down hard on her lower lip trying to tame the pitter patter that her heart made at Rich’s words.

“So that’s it. I did this all so you guys would spend Christmas together, like a family should. Well, that and you know, there’s the whole I scratch your ass, you scratch mine kind of thing. I figure a favour owed by my FBI compadres is always a plus. Also, on an unrelated note, did you know I get conjugal visits? Jane, Weller, that’s for your info. Although I think it’s a one at a time thing in here, the federal prison system isn’t in on threesome cultures yet, they’re not very progressive that way.”

Jane looked at Kurt, could see his jaw grinding as he glared at the image of Rich. She had to grin though, as much as Rich annoyed the crap out of her too, at least he was consistent. And he had done a very thoughtful expensive thing for them, had given them all a great day at a difficult time.

“Anyways, that’s all I wanted to say from my sad cold corner of the inmate world. Please think of me while you enjoy the luxuries of the outside. And the next time we meet, remember I could have had you all killed instead of sending you on a romantic adventure.”

With that the screen went dark and Christmas music came on to replace Rich’s voice. For a moment they all just looked at each other trying to process what had happened. But then Tasha grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and started pouring herself a glass, so Weller shrugged and popped open beer for himself too. After that they took down the dinner in record time, Jane eating more than she ever had in a single sitting and then getting laughed at by the rest of the group by moaning about how much she regretted her second plateful.

“Oh my god, she doesn’t know about wearing pants with elastic waistbands for holidays,” Zapata exclaimed. “Or about saving room for dessert.”

Jane joined in the laughing because she genuinely didn’t know about either of those things, had never considered eating so much that her pants would feel uncomfortable. Or that there could be another whole course after the huge amount of food they’d already eaten. Usually when she was reminded of her lifetime of missing memories Jane would feel empty, disconnected. But this time she suspected she had never had a Christmas as full of happiness before, that the previous holidays of her life had not been full of turkey and pumpkin pie.

After dinner, Jane felt the need to move around a bit so she walked out back for some fresh air and added some wood to the fire that had died down while they ate. Once the bonfire was going again she stood by it absorbing the warmth, watching the flickering flames.

She heard the patio door open and looked up to see Weller walking towards her. Rich’s innuendo came back to her in the moment and she almost blushed again. Despite the fairy tale day, the ridiculous kiss cam situation, Jane knew that Kurt wasn’t hers, would likely never be. His trust in her was still fragile, he had barely just started treating her as a friend again. And he was sleeping with Nas, obviously was not looking to start a relationship with a former terrorist.

Weller came to stand next to her at the fire, huddling up close to her and looking up at the sky.

“It’s starting to snow,” he commented, a lazy smile on his face.

She loved seeing him like that, so at ease with everything. She knew things had been hard for him lately, that he was troubled by Shepherd’s role in his life. It had to have been terrible to find out you’d been watched from afar, every since you were a kid. And despite the merry atmosphere and alcohol, she felt bad about having planned this all with Shepherd, no matter what she was doing to counter it now.

“Yeah, it’s so pretty,” she replied.

Jane looked up at Weller, wondered if he had come out to talk to her for a reason. She wished things could be easy between them again, that she could heal all the hurt wrought by her lies. But she had broken a fundamental trust between them and she didn’t know if Kurt could ever truly forgive her for everything she had done, everything she kept from him.

She was still searching for something to say when Weller turned to look at her, wearing a slightly anxious expression. Jane braced herself for some sort of disappointment, though she couldn’t imagine what she was so afraid of. Kurt had been so kind to her all day, she supposed she was just worried because the fairy tale had to end some time.

“So, um, Jane,” Weller started, glancing at her nervously. “I know we didn’t talk about this, and I don’t want to put you on the spot.”

Now she was really confused, her shoulders starting to tense up with fear about whatever bomb he’s about to drop on Christmas, of all days.

“What are you talking about Kurt?” she managed to squeak out, her heart rate ramping up with anticipation.

Weller sighed, pulled something out of his pocket.

“I got you something for Christmas. I know, I shouldn’t have, so there’s no reason to feel bad that you didn’t get me anything. But I saw it and it made me think of you. It was an impulse thing and it was probably a mistake. And then I brought it skating because I wanted to figure how to give it to you without it being weird and so I had it here with me...”

“Kurt, you’re rambling,” Jane interrupted, taking the small box from his hand, feeling her heart flutter.

Weller had given her something in a similar box before and the moment caught in her chest, stopped her in her tracks. But she could tell that this was something different, that it was something for her, not Taylor.

Jane opened the box to reveal a vibrant green gemstone, cut sharp and shaped like a miniature dagger. She pulled the pendent out to admire it closely, run her fingers admiringly over the sharp edges.

“Kurt, it’s gorgeous,” she said. “But I can’t accept this.”

Kurt silently reached out to take the necklace from her and put it around her neck.

“Yes it is,” he agreed. “And yes you can.”

“It’s the colour of your eyes,” he murmured in her ear. “And its beautiful, but deadly. Just like you.”

Maybe Christmas really was a magical season. Or maybe she was just delusional.

But either way, Weller was saying absurd things to her and Jane was going to run with it.

“I love it,” she replied, unable to form any more coherent words. “Thank you, Kurt. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

Weller shook his head, smiled at her winningly.

“This day together, being here right now to give it to you. That’s everything I could have wanted,” he replied.

Honestly it’s everything she could have wanted too. This day with her team, the people she considered to be her family. And time with Kurt, without the endless stress of their regular lives.

Still Jane wished she had gotten something for him, just had never thought that he would buy her a Christmas present. Especially something that was so thoughtful, and, by all appearances, expensive too. She had thought about whether she was meant to buy something for Kurt but wouldn’t have been able to get him anything much, considering her meagre asset stipend. Still, she could have drawn him something, or tried her hand at baking something chocolatey. Now though, it was obviously too late to remedy the situation.

Or was it?

For an instant Jane’s mind turned to the gaudy Christmas decorations in the cabin, then to her own favourite memory of the day.

She looked at Weller wistfully, glad he couldn’t read what was going on in her mind. They were friends again and that was already more than she expected. And he wasn’t hers, no matter how much she wanted him.

But that moment of letting it all go, reaching up for his lips in front of a roaring stadium. It kept coming back to her, taunting her.

‘What would Rich do?’

The question flashed through her mind, seemingly out of nowhere. And there was clearly only one answer.

“This is everything that I want,” she replied as she reached her arms up around Kurt’s neck, pulled him towards her until their lips met.

Again, the kiss was soft and shy to start and Weller’s initial surprised hesitation only lasted a split second before his hands came up to her face, and his mouth started exploring hers hungrily.

Jane had never felt more connected, passionate, content. Being wrapped up in Kurt, the heat of his body warming her in intense unfamiliar ways. She pulled him to her fiercely and ran her fingers down the back of his neck, trying to permanently record the moment in her memory.

She was just thinking she could just stand there and make out with Kurt forever when the patio door opened again and she heard Zapata’s voice hollering a half-joking warning about no more kissing.

Weller pulled away at the interruption, then looked at her with dazed eyes.

Jane grinned, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth playfully at him.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” she whispered.

Kurt broke into a huge smile, slung his arm around her shoulders.

“This day was a dream right?” he replied. “I’m pretending none of this ever happened.”

Jane knew what he meant, felt the same way herself as the rest of the team came up to join them around the fire. It was Christmas and she was with her family, wrapped up in Kurt Weller’s arms, with him insisting that she’s too thin, needs to be kept warm.

So, of course, Jane chose to not tell him that it was already the warmest she had felt in ages, that she couldn’t possibly dream up a better Christmas. Instead she just snuggled into Kurt, mentally thanking their felonious frenemy for the most absurdly wonderful day of her life.

#blindspot #team fic #jeller #blindspot fanfic #blindspot in a winter wonderland

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holidayblindspot · 5 years ago

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Technically this author isn’t signed up for the event, but since I’m sick and today was my day to post, and this is just sitting here, I figured it would be better than whatever crappy 100 words I’d manage to get down while I’m this ill. I hope you don’t mind me reblogging it here, @hay-389! :)

A Perfect Moment (Jeller w/ Bethany One-shot)

Author’s Note: Just a cute little scene for the in-coming December feels. I’m usually an angst writer, and don’t write much fluff, but I figured I’d try. It was supposed to be 100 words but ended up being almost 200. Anyways, hope you enjoy! If anyone has requests I’d also be more than happy to take them, except smut, lol. Don’t really write that, at least yet. DM me if you do.

O~O~O

Jane rubbed her hands together as she took her gloves off, the cold snow, having, soaked through them. The warm air was a welcome change from being out in the cold for the past hour, and as much as she loved building snowmen and throwing snowballs at her family, a break was definitely needed.

Taking off her coat and hanging it up, Jane picked up the three empty hot chocolate mugs from the small table near the door, and discarded them in the sink. Glancing through the kitchen window, she could see Kurt pretend not to notice as Bethany snuck up behind him, throwing a snowball at his back. He turned, sinking into the snow, and grabbed ahold of her, ticking everywhere he could. Jane could hear the little girl’s giggles even through the closed window.

Kurt’s blue eyes looked up and met hers. He shot her his famous crooked smile, then leaned down whispering something into Bethany’s ear. The four year old looked up, grinning, waving at Jane.

This moment was perfect, and she knew there was no where else she’d rather be than with them.

#blindspot #jeller #bethany knight-weller #blindspot kidfic #blindspot in a winter wonderland

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seabasschinstanfan · 5 years ago

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My Favorite Movies Throughout the Decade

I’ve picked ten movies per year. This is just for fun and obviously, they’re my personal preferences. (It was really hard to narrow these down to ten)

2010 - Scott Pilgrim vs the World, Hot Tub Time Machine, Black Swan, Kick-Ass, The Other Guys, Alice in Wonderland, How to Train Your Dragon, Inception, Tangled, 127 Hours

2011 - What’s Your Number?, Captain America: The First Avenger, Bridesmaids, Fright Night, Thor, Sucker Punch, Jane Eyre, 10 Years, Hall Pass, Gnomeo & Juliet

2012 - The Avengers, Ted, The Amazing Spider-Man, 21 Jump Street, The Hunger Games, Rise of the Guardians, The Raven, This Means War, The Odd Life of Timothy Green, ParaNorman

2013 - Rapture-Palooza, The Internship, Now You See Me, The Great Gatsby, The Place Beyond the Pines, Inside Llewyn Davis, Odd Thomas, Only Lovers Left Alive, Warm Bodies, Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters

2014 - Ex Machina, The LEGO Movie, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Guardians of the Galaxy, Kingsman: The Secret Service, This is Where I Leave You, The Theory of Everything, The Voices, That Awkward Moment, Comet

2015 - The Force Awakens, Love the Coopers, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, The Bronze, Sisters, Green Room, The Diary of a Teenage Girl, The Age of Adaline, Inside Out, The Martian

2016 - Captain Fantastic, La La Land, Moana, Sing!, The Ottoman Lieutenant, Me Before You, Rogue One, Split, Deadpool, Eddie the Eagle

2017 - Wonder, Get Out, Call Me By Your Name, Tulip Fever, The Last Jedi, Spider-Man: Homecoming, Wonder Woman, I, Tonya, Logan, Thor: Ragnarok

2018 - Solo, Blindspotting, Beautiful Boy, BlacKkKlansman, Deadpool 2, Green Book, Crazy Rich Asians, Venom, Black Panther, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

2019 - The Rise of Skywalker, The Peanut Butter Falcon, Us, Captain Marvel, Rocketman, Marriage Story, Little Women, The Dead Don’t Die, Glass, The King

#movie lists #2010s #end of the decade #movies #just for fun

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chibinoyume · 5 years ago

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Festive

Author’s note: Written for @holidayblindspot day 10. Fluffy Jane/Kurt ♥

Set early mid-season 1 (before 1x10) because I’m on a S1 rewatch and they’re awkward, adorable and their level of chemistry is insane. It probably wouldn’t be winter in those days, but let’s ignore it for now, shall we? I haven’t written anything in literal years, so please let me know what you think.

Word count: 865.

******

It was just going to be a kiss on the cheek.

Whose idea was to put mistletoe in the conference room? It seemed like a sexual harassment complaint waiting to happen. Kurt hadn’t noticed at first, it was so early and he was focused on his laptop, the table scattered with documents. Someone entered the room, wanting him to sign some paperwork. He noticed the woman looked up, seemingly embarrassed, and quickly escaped as soon as he was done signing, like she was afraid of something. Weird. Curiosity piqued, he looked up.

That’s when he saw it: mistletoe.

Before Kurt could stand up and yank the damn thing off, he saw Jane exiting the elevator, her eyes surveying the room, probably looking for him. As he kept his eyes on her, he wondered how was it that he always seemed to feel whenever she entered a room. She spotted him within a few seconds, and he returned her smile, realizing she seemed to have an ease to find him fairly quickly, too.

As she closed the door behind her, her eyes immediately went from his face to the colorful ribbon that tied together the mistletoe above his head, and she faltered in her step. Hurriedly, she kept walking and took a seat next to him.

“Uh... good morning” she said, forcing her eyes back to his face, seeming a little flustered.

A slow, knowing smile started to form on his lips, and Jane avoided his eyes. She had clearly arrived with the intention to tell him something, but it looked like her thoughts were going in a different direction.

“Morning, Jane.” Kurt knew he shouldn’t, but he was suddenly glad he hadn’t had time to dispose of that damn mistletoe, if only to see the light blush that tinted her cheeks. She certainly seemed to remember what the tradition was about.

Jane cleared her throat, collecting her thoughts. “So… are you feeling really festive, or what?” she chuckled awkwardly, nodding to the space above his head.

He didn’t expect her to call him out on it, and was momentarily at a loss for words. A little embarrassed, he felt the sudden urge to clarify that this was not his idea, but then she was looking at him again, her eyes big and nervous and expectant and the words just died on his lips. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, tease her back, but then thought better of it. He should get back to work and on with his day, and yank the damn thing off the ceiling. It was inappropriate, it was tempting and she was an FBI asset, she was Taylor. It couldn’t, shouldn’t happen.

But the movement had made her eyes flicker not so briefly to his lips and his rational side was eclipsed by desire, especially when she bit her lower lip and kept giving him her undivided attention. It was giving him all the wrong ideas, making his resolve weaken. Those eyes were going to be the death of him, the way she breathed, the way she moved, her lips…

Kurt decided that he’d just give her a kiss on the cheek, a compromise, perfectly friendly, before his imagination kept running away from him or he lost his window to do anything at all. Or worse, that she’d just go for it.

But that’s exactly what she did. Jane Doe was no coward.

The moment he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, she let out a shaky breath. While he was still there, his mouth on her skin for longer than he should have, congratulating himself for being close to her but oh so appropriate, Jane turned her head slightly and kissed the corner of his mouth.

His eyes fell closed and he could have sworn his heart stopped beating, just for a second. It didn’t take more than that. All his good intentions evaporated, his hands finding her face blindly as his mouth found hers, inexplicably soft, warm, inviting. His lips parted and she grew bolder, pulling at the collar of his shirt to feel him closer.

If he were more in control of his thoughts, he would probably be listing all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen… or at least why it shouldn’t happen here, but feeling how her fingertips dug into the back of his neck, pushing him against her, how she licked his lips, how her eagerness matched his own, all he could think of was Jane, yes, finally. He got lost in the sensation of his hands on her hair and her skin, his mouth on hers, taking everything she would give.

When they took a second to breathe, his head still spinning, he vaguely thought that his apartment wasn’t that far from her safe house.

Within walking distance, actually.

Even if he knew shouldn’t have, his thoughts were invaded with the possibility of her and them and starting points and then he wasn’t thinking at all. Because she grabbed his collar and kissed him again.

It was lucky it was so early in the morning, because the walls were made of glass.

Not that either of them seemed to remember that.

#jeller #blindspot #blindspot fic #writing: mine #fanfiction #jane doe #kurt weller #season 1 jeller #awkward dorks #i love you and i miss you #scheduled post #i will have barely any life on the 10th #aaa #hope you like it!#happy holidays :D #blindspot holiday fandomsplosion #blindspot holiday #blindspot in a winter wonderland #my fic

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lurkingwhump · 5 years ago

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Count Your Blessings

Hey everyone!

Here’s my second installment for @holidayblindspot. Thanks for @indelibleevidence for doing this project, it was a great idea!

This one turned out slightly angstier than I intended (yes, I still think they shrugged off Jane’s post-Remi struggles too easily), but it’s still is Jeller (uninterrupted!) and it does have a happy ending 😊. Timeline is somewhere post-s4 and taking down mad-Maddie shortly before Christmas, timeline be damned. All inconsistencies or errors are mine. Hope you like it! Here’s to a happy New Year!

Count Your Blessings

Jane let out a contented murmur as she slowly woke to another morning with Kurt’s arms wrapped securely around her. She snuggled deeper into the warmth of his embrace, not wanting to open her eyes just yet.

“Merry Christmas.” Kurt whispered, placing a lazy kiss on her shoulder, when he noticed she was awake. She could hear the smile and happiness in his voice.

“Merry Christmas,” she half-mumbled in reply, smiling.

It was Christmas morning, and they were comfortably burrowed under a down duvet of a king-size bed. They had had their Christmas celebration with Bethany a few days before, and Avery was spending Christmas with a friend in Montreal brushing up on her French. So, Kurt and Jane had decided to get out of the City for the holidays, heading upstate and to a cabin that belonged to an old friend of Kurt’s. His friend lived in Florida, and had no intention to return to freezing temperatures for Christmas, so he was happy to let Kurt and Jane have the cabin when Kurt called him.

Jane was happy they were here, grateful. The year had been a whirlwind to say the least. They were finally starting to get their lives back together again, after all the things that had happened. Jane kept her eyes closed, letting her mind wander and counting her blessings: thinking of how lucky she was to be healthy again, to have Kurt and others who loved her. Despite her happiness, her mind still ended up in a dark place. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, hoping it would drive away the gloomy thoughts.

Kurt nuzzled her neck. “You’re quiet.”

She smiled at the gesture: she should’ve known he could tell when something was bothering her.

“What is it?” He asked, his tone worried as he propped himself on his elbow and gently rolled her onto her back so that he could see her face.

Jane sighed, her eyes briefly making contact with his.

“I just…keep thinking back to this whole past year or so that we’ve had: with Madeline, and taking her down, being on the run, Remi, and the ZIP.” Her heart was aching, when she looked at Kurt. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Jane…”

She gave him a pained look. Even after all this time, after being on the run and doing questionable things to right wrongs, it was the things she had done as Remi that she struggled with the most. She had hurt the ones she loved. “No, Kurt….what I did to you and the others, how I lied…I almost–”

Kurt leaned in close, his nose brushing against hers. “Shh…none of that now,” he told her softly, his eyes shining with love. “I told you before, that it doesn’t matter. And I’ll keep telling you that until the end of the world, if I have to.” The sincerity in his look made her heart constrict.

He gave her a kiss. “All that matters now, is that you’re here.”

“But the things I did–.“

Kurt brushed his thumb against her lip and shook his head. “Are done. And it doesn’t matter anymore.” He brought his hand to her cheek, tracing it tenderly. “I almost lost you.” He continued; his voice filled with emotion.

“I almost lost you, too.” Jane replied, thinking back to the cabin explosion in Iceland.

Kurt nodded softly in acknowledgement. “I know. But we’re still here.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “And despite all the things you did as Remi, you’ve done so much to make up for it.”

Jane felt a calming warmth in her chest as she gazed into his eyes.

“You helped take down Madeline, taking way more risks than I was comfortable with…”, saying the second comment with gentle admonishment. “You fought to come back here, to clear our names.” He went on, determined to drag her out of the hole that her mind had sunk. “We all make mistakes. But you can’t hang them over your head forever. You are an incredible woman and an incredible wife, Jane.”

She thought her heart would burst at his words. She brought her hand to the nape of his neck, caressing it softly before pulling him close for a slow and reverent kiss. When they broke the kiss, she felt like Kurt had succeeded in driving the darkness away once again.

He chuckled as she rolled them over, tucking herself firmly into the warmth of his side again. “There’s that smile I love,” he murmured as he buried his nose in hair, squeezing her close.

Jane closed her eyes, relaxing into Kurt’s soothing touch as he brushed his fingers up and down her side. She had almost fallen back asleep, when Kurt spoke.

“So, given that it’s Christmas, what do you want to do today?”

“Pancakes.”

“Pancakes? You’re starting to sound like Bethany.” Kurt laughed. “It’s Christmas morning. How about presents?”

“Pancakes first, I’m hungry.”

Her reply earned another chuckle from him. “Well, we can’t have that.” He moved to get up, and kissed her. “Come on, let’s go make some pancakes before you starve.”

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot in a winter wonderland #jeller #angsty fluff?#lurkingwhump #Fic: Count Your Blessings

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indelibleevidence · 5 years ago

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Snowy Footprints

Author’s Note: A 100-word drabble to kick off the Blindspot in a Winter Wonderland event, over at @holidayblindspot. It’s 2am here, so that officially makes it December in my country! Plus I have a busy day tomorrow, so I don’t want to have to worry about doing this later on.

This is set in season one, obviously, when they still think Jane is Taylor Shaw.

***

There’s a small smile on Jane’s face as she stashes her coat in her locker. Kurt can’t help indulging his curiosity. “You seem happy today.”

She looks around, eyes lighting in welcome. “It’s my first time seeing snow. That I can remember, anyway.”

Of course, she wouldn’t remember. “Did you go out and make a snow angel, like you did when you were three?”

“No, but I left for the subway a little early. Treading in fresh snow is so satisfying, somehow.”

“Want to go for a walk after work?”

Her answering smile warms his heart. “That’d be really nice.”

#blindspot #blindspot in a winter wonderland #100-word drabble #blindspot drabble #blindspot fic #jeller #jeller fic

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indelibleevidence · 5 years ago

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Flowers for Jane

Author’s Note: A season 2 fic written for @holidayblindspot day 11 - sorry it’s a bit late! The original contributor had to reschedule her day, so I stepped up with this. :) Mentions of Jane/Oliver, but not in a good light, really - this is very Jeller.

***

“Looks like someone loves you, Jane!”

Kurt looked up from the report Zapata had handed him, watching Brianna present Jane with a huge Christmas bouquet—an artfully arranged gathering of red and green and white. It must have cost a fortune, and it was very obviously a message—a message Kurt was getting loud and clear.

This woman is taken.

Jane stared down at the flowers with a stunned half-smile, her confusion clear. The mystified expression on her face only faded a little when she read the tag on the flowers, a slight flush coming to her cheeks.

Then she looked around at the people nearby, an almost pleading look in her eyes. When she realised Kurt was looking on, she dropped her gaze quickly, almost guiltily.

Oliver didn’t know the first thing about the woman he was dating, and that made Kurt feel so much better about that moment. It was petty as hell, but he couldn’t help but be glad Jane’s days together with this guy were numbered.

“First time being sent flowers, huh?” Zapata asked, stepping forward to rescue her. “I think we have a few vases in the break room cabinet, if you want to pretty up your desk.”

“I, uh… Yeah. Good idea.”

“Make sure you put enough water in. My first time, I treated flowers like a live plant and tried not to drown them, but they suck up more than you think. It keeps them going for longer.” Zapata gave her a quick smile and returned to her own desk.

Still seeming almost as uncomfortable as she was surprised, Jane carried her bouquet off to the break room, and the activity in SIOC returned to normal after one more curious moment.

Kurt finished scanning Zapata’s report, then leaned over her desk to initial it, indicating he agreed with her account of how things had gone down before she’d opened fire on the suspect she’d had to shoot, the day before. A few more moments ticked by as he straightened up, looked around.

Jane hadn’t returned from the break room, and he couldn’t help himself. “Anyone else want more coffee?”

“I’m good.” Reade raised his tea cup to his lips.

“Just finished one, thanks.” Zapata gave him a sideways glance, but left her thoughts unspoken.

As Kurt entered the break room, he had to suppress the urge to grin—Jane had removed the cellophane from the flowers and stuffed them in a vase, but the stems were far too long, and the whole effect was haphazard. Obviously her talent with art didn’t extend to flower-arranging.

Jane herself was leaning against the opposite wall, looking from her phone to the flowers, as though either might bite her at any moment. She could take down an armed man with nothing more than her fists and her wits, but a bunch of flowers made her nervous? It was almost cute.

“Hey,” she said, and slid her phone into her pocket.

Had she been thanking Oliver for the flowers, or asking why the hell he’d sent her something so useless? The former, of course. Jane had always been endlessly grateful for any kindness she was shown, especially these days.

Kurt returned her greeting, examining the coffee pot and rinsing out the dregs of bitter sludge before setting on a fresh batch to brew. Then he indicated the flowers. “Need a hand with those?”

She gave him a quick, relieved smile, her discomfort still plain. “I have no idea what to do with them. You can probably tell.”

He located the scissors they kept in here for occasions like this, and lifted the bunch of flowers out of the vase, beginning to snip the stems down to size. “You gotta trim the ends off so they can suck up the water easier. Where they were originally cut is too dry to do it properly. This way, they’ll live longer, and they’re easier to display.”

She came to his side, watching him work. “I didn’t think you’d be an expert on flowers.”

“I’m not, but Emma Shaw was—otherwise, I’d have no clue. I’m not exactly the kind of person people send flowers to.” He allowed himself a brief, bittersweet moment to think of Taylor’s mom, before setting down the scissors and repositioning a few of the blooms.

“Evidently I’m not, either.” Jane shook her head as he stepped back. “They’re so beautiful, but they’ll die within a week or two. They’d be so much better off in the ground, with their roots.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought the same.” And he’d never have thought of bringing Jane flowers, even during those brief periods of flirtation where they’d almost started something. She was too practical to appreciate them.

He’d once given her a necklace as a birthday gift—the one Emma had bought to match Taylor’s eyes. He’d taken it back from the safehouse while Jane was in the black site, but it had suited her, even if she didn’t really wear jewellery otherwise. She’d been touched by the gift, but he’d sensed it was mainly for symbolic reasons, back when she’d thought she was Taylor, rather than because the necklace itself was beautiful.

If Kurt had to give Jane a romantic gift these days, it would be something to match her personality. A beautiful but deadly knife, or a custom-made holster for her service weapon, or tickets to something they could attend and appreciate together. Something aimed at building memories to fill the void where her past was still a blank, or something to help her survive their struggle against Shepherd.

He still hadn’t found a Christmas gift that would suit her, but there were still a couple of weeks to go. He just had to find something that didn’t betray how much thought he’d put into it. Something that would carry the same connotations as the gifts the rest of the team would surely give her: fairly inexpensive, useful or playing on an in-joke, without the intensity of his feelings coming through to make things inappropriate or awkward.

What would Oliver get Jane for Christmas? His romantic gesture bugged Kurt, even as it made him confident Jane would eventually leave the clueless man she was dating. Flowers were so generic, guaranteed to please the vast majority of women while requiring very little thought about what that woman was like.

Oliver didn’t understand Jane. He didn’t deserve her.

“Thank you. For making up for my, um, shortcomings here.” She picked up the flowers, ready to take them back to her desk.

“Things are going well with your guy, then? You’re happy?” He couldn’t help but ask, even knowing that the answer would hurt, no matter what it was.

“I think so. I mean, I’ve never done this before. But dates and flowers seem to be the things people do when they’re into each other, so… I guess I just have to learn how to do this stuff.” She shrugged. “He’s going to Sydney for Christmas, visiting family. And I think I wanna stay with Roman for New Year’s Eve, since he doesn’t remember much yet. I think he was a little disappointed. Oliver, I mean. But I guess this is his way of saying it’s not a dealbreaker, not getting to spend time together over the holidays.”

Kurt couldn’t help but notice the way she avoided answering his second question. Was she happy? Maybe not yet. But eventually she’d find a guy who fit her better, probably before Kurt saw an opening to tell her he still had feelings for her, and he’d have to deal with it when that happened.

“You deserve to be happy, Jane.”

“Thanks.” She smiled down at the flowers, as though making a concerted effort to settle for what she had.

Why couldn’t he make himself tell her he’d never buy her flowers? That he saw who she really was, knew how much she struggled with the everyday normality that everyone else seemed to find easy? That he hoped so much that he hadn’t missed his chance with her, that he hadn’t driven her so far from him that she’d never consider trying again?

I love you, Jane. Even if the words would never make it out of his mouth, he could admit that to himself now. It was screwed up that it had taken seeing her with another man to make him realise it.

He poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, then fell into step with Jane as they left the break room together.

“How about you?” she asked casually. “Any Christmas dates over the holidays?”

He snorted at the idea. “I’ll be in Portland on Christmas Eve. I’m not a huge fan of big holidays, but I haven’t seen Sarah and Sawyer for too long, and I think Sarah wants to introduce me to her new boyfriend. Don’t mention that to Reade, by the way.”

“My lips are sealed.” Jane shot a quick, sympathetic look at the back of Reade’s head.

They fell quiet as they returned to the vicinity of Jane’s desk, and Jane put down the vase of flowers with obvious relief.

“Say hi to Sarah and Sawyer for me,” she told him, then shook her head apologetically. “I mean, if that wouldn’t be weird, under the circumstances.”

“I’ll let them know you said hi. Thanks.” He was touched that she wanted to reach out to his sister and nephew, even knowing that Sarah was still feeling hurt that Jane wasn’t Taylor Shaw.

Jane sighed and scooted her chair closer to her desk. “I guess this search isn’t gonna complete itself. I’ll let you know if I find anything that tells us where this guy might have disappeared to.”

Kurt nodded, casting one final look at Jane’s flowers and touching her on the shoulder briefly, before heading back to his office.

If he were in Oliver’s position, he’d...

Sighing, he shut down the thoughts of sitting beside an open fire with Jane, a Christmas tree filled with twinkling lights nearby, wrapped gifts underneath it waiting to be exchanged. Mistletoe overhead, and a mischievous glint in her eye as she leaned forward to kiss him.

It wasn’t going to happen—not this year, or any other year. This year, he would be in Portland, and Jane would no doubt spend as much time with Roman as his imprisonment would allow. Next year, he fully intended to spend as much of Christmas as possible with his baby girl, though he and Allie hadn’t worked out the finer points of how it would all work yet. Hell, they hadn’t even agreed on a name for her yet.

It was better to focus on a future he could have than daydream up a wishful fiction that revolved around Jane.

But maybe he could find some way to have Roman spend the holidays with Jane at her safehouse. If Roman was under guard or a protective detail, the way Jane had been in the beginning, it might work out. He’d have to sell it to Dr. Sun, the psychologist they’d brought in to replace Borden—but he was nothing if not determined.

It wouldn’t be his official Christmas gift to Jane, but it would be worth it to see her joyful over the holidays.

#flowers for jane #blindspot #blindspot fanfic #jeller #jeller fic #blindspot season 2 fic #blindspot in a winter wonderland

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holidayblindspot · 5 years ago

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Season of Hate/Season of Love (part 3/3)

The third and final part of rAnsomedr0gue’s seasonal Reller fic. She doesn’t have a Tumblr account, but I do give her a link to these posts, so please do comment and let her know what you think!

Previous parts are HERE and HERE.

***

Remi wakes with a start, a silent scream still caught in her throat.

It was a nightmare, she realizes. Kurt, getting beaten to death in an alleyway. Arriving too late, sobbing even though there’s no one there to pretend for.

She turns to see if she’s disturbed his sleep and groans when she realizes he’s not in bed. Remi wonders if she reached out for him in the middle of the night, the way her body often does, and hurt him by accident. She had told him she would sleep in the other room, wary of his injuries. But he’d insisted he needed her near him to rest and she had been unreasonably relieved to be able to stay.

It had been a long night of x-rays, CT scans, various other medical procedures. Eventually he’d received nine stitches for a cut above his left eyebrow and been diagnosed with three broken ribs and a concussion. Not bad considering the doctor had been worried about a skull fracture, bleeding in his brain. And about as well as possible considering how he’d looked when she found him in the alley.

Remi shudders, exhales the bad memory. There had been a lot of blood and it hadn’t been immediately obvious that none of it was life-threatening. Her heart had frozen in her chest until he sat up, tried to pretend he was okay. Of course all she could do then was hold him in pure relief, none of it an act.

However much she needs to get rid of him, Remi can’t deny the way it had felt to cradle his stupid heroic self. Her moronic pretend FBI husband who somehow survived an encounter with an armed giant intent on murder suicide. On Christmas Eve.

They’d gone to dinner and he’d saved their server’s life. She was almost glad he’d forgotten his gun or else he’d be insufferable about being right. As it was, he seemed to think his mistake nullified any reason to praise him and had kept apologizing for ruining their night. Even though she told him countless times that she wasn’t upset, kind of wanted to punch him in his already-concussed head for even thinking it.

Remi gets up, really hopes to find him sleeping in the spare room. But when she opens the bedroom door she sees him in the kitchen, making coffee and pulling out breakfast ingredients.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Weller says, looking up as her with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

Remi sighs, shakes her head at him.

“You should be resting,” she admonishes. “I can make breakfast, you need to take it easy.”

Weller shakes his head at her then winces and frowns at the movement.

“I couldn’t sleep, and you needed the rest. We were at the hospital until past two and I know you didn’t fall asleep for awhile,” he argues. “Besides, Allie’s going to be here soon with Bee and I promised her French toast with berry sauce.”

Remi walks over to him, feels an almost primal need to touch him growing in her gut. Wraps her arms around his hips from behind, rests her head between his shoulders gently.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” she rumbles into his back. “I am so thankful you’re here.”

There’s still so much truth to that statement that she’s momentarily stunned. While Remi had come to accept that some part of her cared about Weller, she’d never been forced to confront the extent of it. But seeing a beast of a man about to break his head, that had made her react so strongly that it was impossible to ignore. And she hasn’t shaken it yet, the fear of losing him.

Kurt turns carefully until her head is just above his collarbone, lying on top of the bullet burn across his chest. It’s hard to even think about it. A bullet that close to his heart, the slightest change in angle and he’d be gone.

Remi looks up at his bruised face, the dried blood on the gauze over his stitches. He’s already developed quite a shiner on his left eye and makes him look soft yet hard, reminds her exactly what he’s like.

“Did you tell Allie what happened?” she asks, thinking of little Bee, how she’s going to react to Weller’s appearance.

“Yeah,” Kurt sighs. “She was pretty upset.”

“Hmmm,” Remi replies. “Yeah well, having to tell Bethany that her Christmas Day visit with daddy is cancelled because he’s dead would probably ruin a lifetime of Christmases for both of them. So I think she has the right.”

“She called me a dumbass about ten times in five minutes,” he groans.

Remi hides a grin into his chest, enjoys it that Allie can call Kurt on his shit so readily.

“And I couldn’t even defend myself. I forgot my gun!” he exclaims irritably. “I’m never going to live it down. I shouldn’t even be here.”

She can feel him suddenly tense up in her arms, become taut with self-blame, what ifs.

Oh Kurt, she thinks. Only Weller could feel bad about getting beat up in an alley while saving a woman’s life.

“Hey, hey,” she mutters into his ear. “Calm down, Kurt. You know she’s just worried about you and that’s how it comes out.”

Remi briefly pictures Allie spitting fire and tears, everyone sobbing. Yet again she is so glad he’s still there, that she isn’t spending Christmas crying with his family, mourning with his team. She’s also pretty darn thankful that her earlier self didn’t kill him back when she hated him more.

The truth is so glaring, it’s impossible to ignore. She had failed again. Made the same mistake twice. Apparently Kurt Weller was her fucking kryptonite.

And here she is, Christmas day, trying to comfort him, his pounding heart under her ear. Thinking how he can be so fragile with her, how it should make her feel disdainful. She has no time for emotions other than anger, hate.

But it’s Kurt, and it’s so sad to see him hurting. So maybe she has the time, a whole day in fact. With overly emotional Weller, who she inexplicably loves.

“Breathe,” she says. Rubs her hand up and down his spine, relishes the warmth of his body up against hers.

Weller must finally hear her because he takes five deep breaths and then lets out a tired sigh. Remi looks up at him, at his face pale and exhausted eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asks, fairly sure she already knows the answer.

He shakes his head just slightly and she can tell he has a bad headache. No wonder he’s especially reactive; he hasn’t slept and is obviously still in pain. He is in no condition to deal with a toddler on Christmas Day, even one that is usually quite well-behaved. And he is going to be extremely upset with himself if anything goes wrong, that she already knows. Which she really doesn’t want.

Kurt deserves a nice day, Remi thinks uncharacteristically. He’s been trying so hard.

“Look, it’s just six am,” she says. “Allie isn’t due until eight, I’m going to text her and get her to bring Bee at eleven instead. You can make French toast for brunch if you insist but only if you get some sleep between now and then.”

She sees Weller forming a ‘no’ with his lips and she shushes him with a finger.

“She’s a toddler, Kurt. She won’t have any idea we started Christmas three hours later than planned. And you need some rest if there’s any hope that this day will turn out the way you want it to. So I’m going to clean your cut and you’re going to close your eyes and relax. Do you want to do this on the couch or the bed?”

Remi wears a look that brooks no argument and, for once, Weller doesn’t try to fight her.

“Couch,” he sighs.

She smiles her relief and takes his hand silently, leads him over to the couch. He is surprisingly docile considering how tense he still is and she thinks he must just be so tired he can’t bother to resist.

Remi starts by sitting him down on the sofa, helping him find a comfortable position for his sore body. Knows from experience the constant pain of broken ribs, how hard it is to get proper rest when it hurts just to lie down. When he’s finally settled, Weller leans his head against the back of the couch, closes his eyes when she can’t help but sift her fingers through his hair.

She fetches the first aid kit and a couple ice packs then returns to tend to Kurt. It’s strange, to want to take care of him, to not be pretending anymore, not even to herself. She remembers when he first got out of the hospital after that abdominal abscess surgery, being disgusted at having to change his bandages. How she had made sure to be ‘accidentally’ too rough as often as she could.

Now she gently wipes at his stitches until all the dried blood has loosened off, ensures that his cut is neat and clean before brushing her lips against his wound, another small soft moment that’s hard to reconcile with her usual hard self. It’s entirely worth it though when he dons a sleepy grin at the kiss, blindly reaches for her hand.

Remi responds automatically, grasps his hand tightly and weaves her fingers between his. She brings their hands up to her lips, plants a kiss on his thumb. Then impulsively she brings their matched hands to her own chest, holds them there against her heartbeat.

It’s a thing that Kurt does and it’s always made her feel uncomfortable. It’s much too intimate, more emotional than kissing or sex because she can feel how special it is to Jane. So of course she’s never thought to initiate it before, but at the moment Remi instinctively knows it will soothe him.

His eyes flicker open for a moment and settle on their hands against her heart. He’s wearing a soft satisfied smile, looks at with such love that she feels tears rise unexpectedly, turns to blinks them away before glancing back to see if Kurt’s noticed.

But thankfully he’s already fallen asleep, his lips still wearing a gentle upwards curve. So she kisses his hand one more time before letting it go, resists the urge to run her fingers through his scruffy hair again. Stands up and looks down at him fondly, so glad he’s getting some rest before the small whirlwind known as his daughter arrives.

There’s a chance she will still need to kill him. But first he’s going to have the Christmas he deserves with his daughter and a wife that loves him. Even if it’s not his wife.

***

Kurt wakes to a tender kiss, thinks it must be one of those dreams where you think you’ve woken up but you’re still dreaming.

He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, not wanting the experience to end. It feels so real, like a memory come to life. Jane wanting to touch him, initiating physical contact. A fragment of their lives before they found out she was sick.

Finally, he has to see for himself and opens his eyes, confirms that he’s curled up on the couch and Jane is leaning over him, her lips on his.

I should almost die more often, he thinks idly. It’s the closest she’s been for so long.

Of course that thought is immediately followed with a wave of guilt, the thought that she should not have to be worrying about him on Christmas. Especially considering it was all due to his own stupidity.

He tries to wipe away the negative mood, revel in the moment as Jane trails a line of kisses from his mouth to his jaw and then up to his bruised eye. She finishes with her lips against his left temple, her breath warm in his ear.

“Time to wake up,” she whispers. “Allie and Bee are going to be here in less than an hour.”

Jane stands up and he reaches for her reflexively, too aroused to think about his movements. Then immediately pays for it when his broken ribs remind him of reality, jolt him awake with a grunt of pain.

Jane passes him some ibuprofen and a glass of water without commenting on the pathetic noise he just made. She is being so good to him, he can’t help but revel in it. Even though he feels unmanly somehow, letting her take care of him while she’s sick. Especially because his injuries are entirely his own fault.

He forgot to bring his gun to a gun fight. It’s so ridiculous he can’t even think about it.

Vaguely he knows he’s being hard on himself when he should focus on the fact that it’s Christmas and he’s about to spend the day with his daughter and his wife, the two people he loves most. But it’s so easy to think about what could have been, how the hell Jane would have explained it to Allie and Bee.

“Kurt, snap out of it,” she says, as if she’s reading his mind. “Everything’s fine. Christmas is going to be great.”

Weller tries to focus on Jane, is thankful that the pounding in his head has ebbed to a minor throb after some sleep. He tells himself to believe her words, that he isn’t going to ruin the day by being a mopey bastard. That he has a wife who loves him, a daughter he adores.

“Do you want to try and shower before they come?” she asks.

As much as he likes the idea of coercing Jane into the shower with him, reality sinks in quickly when it takes all he has just to pull himself into a sitting position, get his feet on the ground. Every movement makes his broken ribs grate painfully and he wonders how he’s going to deal with Bee flinging herself at him the way she usually does.

“Uh, I don’t know if I can,” he admits.

“I thought you might say that,” Jane replies sympathetically. “So I started running the bath. I think that’ll be easier.”

Kurt looks up at her gratefully, takes the hand she’s holding out to him and lets her gently help him up from the couch. When he’s standing he expects her to let go but she keeps pulling him towards her until she can wrap her arms around him.

“Does your head feel better?” she asks, scrutinizing his eyes for clues.

He nods and manages not to wince, or feel sick. Definite improvement, he thinks.

“Good,” she sighs. “Now let’s see what a bath does for the rest of you.”

Jane turns and leads him to the washroom, sits him on the edge of the tub as she unbuttons and removes his pajama shirt. Then stands him up again to drop his pants to his ankles, help him step out of the and into the bath without jostling his ribs too much.

She lets him get settled in the tub before starting to bathe him, running a soapy washcloth over his lurid bruises, gently rubbing shampoo into his hair. Despite all his injuries, it feels fantastic to just sit there in the hot water, let it soothe his aching body as Jane scrubs him clean, rinses him off and then helps him stand up, wraps him in a giant towel.

Life with Jane is the best present he could ever imagine. On Christmas or any other day. Even when he’s an achy mess, feels down on himself.

Kurt lets her lead him into their bedroom, sit him on the bed and finish toweling him off. Then she lightly rubs analgesic muscle relaxant over his chest, frowning at the all mottled bruises already starting to darken.

He reminds himself not to tell her that it’s worth being in that much pain to have her touch him like that. No matter how true it is, it’s self-pitying, pathetic.

“That must hurt a lot,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the deep purple of his torso.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles.

“Liar,” she replies, a proud but exasperated look in her eyes. “I’ve put some clothes out for you then if you’re so fine. Get dressed, they’re going to be here in ten minutes.”

She leaves him to consider his mistake as he stares at the clothing, tries to mentally will it onto his body. Getting his boxers and a pair of sweatpants pulled up to his waist takes nearly five minutes and leaves him sweaty with the effort. He’s only managed to do up a few buttons on his shirt when there’s a knock at the front door and Weller’s suddenly filled with excitement, so ready to see Bethany that he forgets to worry about her being a human missile sometimes.

By the time he’s got his shirt done up Jane has already let Allie and Bee in and opens the door to their room to check on his progress, smiles when she sees he’s dressed.

“Looking good, Special Agent,” she teases as she steps aside to let him out the door.

His daughter must have been searching for him because she comes hurtling at him right as he steps out of the bedroom, clearly expecting to be swept up in his arms as usual. Kurt beams reflexively but then realizes his predicament, knows he’s going to end up shouting and scaring Bee if he tries to pick her up and that she’s going to be very disappointed if he doesn’t.

Thankfully Jane reads the situation perfectly and intercepts Bethany by sweeping her into a huge hug first before ‘flying’ her over to him and gently placing her in his arms. Even just supporting her toddler weight is a challenge but he manages to breathe through it as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes as hard as she can.

“Hi Daddy,” she screeches with glee. “Is Christmas!”

It’s insane that a drunken fuck up could have brought so much pure joy into his life. Maybe the only good thing to have come out of finding Taylor, arresting Jane.

“Hi Bee,” he replies enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas.”

He snuggles his daughter until his body screams and then Allie comes and pulls Bethany off of him, reminds her that they have to be gentle with daddy because he’s hurt.

“Daddy, owie,” Bee says, pointing at Kurt’s black eye and nodding seriously.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty big owie alright,” Allie agrees as she passes Bee off to Jane and steps forward to wrap him into a hug.

“We would have both been devastated,” she mutters into his ear. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

She holds him for a lot longer than expected and there’s a shimmer to her eyes when she finally lets go and runs her thumb over his bruised face.

“Now make us that goddamned berry French toast that Bee won’t shut up about,” she demands.

“Yes, ma’am,” Weller replies, still a bit stunned at how emotional everyone is being about him. He still feels guilty extracting sympathy for having made such a monumental error. But he can’t deny that it does feel good to be cared about, especially on Christmas.

He walks over to the kitchen and starts making a berry compote while Jane and Bee examine the ornaments on the tree and Allie quietly asks him for details on the previous night. He gives her the full blow by blow, knows she won’t let it go until he does. But at least she refrains from calling him any names, just shakes her head at him when he admits why he hadn’t been wearing his holster.

Weller serves up breakfast, but somewhat disastrously forgets he’s not supposed to laugh when Bethany’s eyes light up maniacally at the powdered sugar being dusted on her French toast.

The laughing leads to a moment of panicked pain, then some wracked coughing before his ribs stop screaming at him and his vision clears up.

He hadn’t even noticed Jane getting up to rub his back, Allie distracting Bethany by feeding her breakfast, telling her that there was nothing to be worried about. He feels so useless and horrible in the moment, frightening his little girl by sputtering in pain, unable to even laugh without screwing things up.

But then he hears Jane muttering in his ear, telling him to breathe, that the pain is only temporary, that he’s going to be okay. And, once his heart rate settles, the panic in his chest fades too, lets him look up and smile reassuringly at Bee, who instantly changes her little toddler frown into a matching grin.

“Sorry honey,” he apologizes, walking over to kiss his daughter. “I didn’t mean to scare you. How’s your French toast?”

“Yummy!” she shouts, any fear clearly already forgotten.

Bethany shows off her berry-stained smile, reaches up for another hug. He wants to pick her up but realizes it’s a bad idea just as Jane comes around and scoops Bee up towards him so she can wrap her sticky hands around his neck and he can hug them both without the risk of dropping his kid or crying out in pain.

Kurt stands there, one arm wrapped around his daughter, the other around his wife. Sees Allie smiling broadly as she takes a photo of their cute Christmas moment.

What would he do without the women in his life?

Certainly he’d be a mess. Probably miserable and alone, wallowing in guilt. Not feeding his daughter her favourite ‘bewwy’ sauce, stealing fruity holiday kisses from his wife.

Somehow his near fatal mistake hasn’t ruined things, and he feels so loved it brings tears to his eyes again. Which doesn’t make any sense to him, that he could screw up so badly yet things could turn out so perfectly. But for once he’s not going to overthink the issue, is just going to accept his incredibly good fortune. After all, it’s rather fitting that his best Christmas with Jane involves a life or death incident, broken ribs and a concussion.

***

She was raised on hardness, no time for sentiment. The only love she and Roman had ever experienced after the death of their birth parents was tough love, even for each other. A product of a life of harsh environments, intense competition, where affection was a rare commodity to be hoarded.

Remi always thought, was always afraid, that she didn’t know how to love. Even with all her boyfriends, even with Oscar. Because she was so steeped in hate, raised on it. She thought she’d loved Oscar, but then she had left him so readily, could have easily chosen not to. The mission had meant so much more than what she felt for Oscar, it was all that really mattered to her.

Somehow she knows it hadn’t been nearly as easy for Jane to leave Kurt, that she only managed to force herself away because her presence put them in danger. Jane left to save him, give him a life with his kid. Because he was what mattered to her, nothing else.

It’s what made her so jealous, angry. That Jane got the chance she never had. A blank slate. A chance at love.

Because how could Remi have learned love from a mother that was willing to sacrifice her own daughter?

She watches as Weller helps Bethany push a giant snowball through the park, makes her clap and shout with happiness as he picks it up gingerly and puts it on top of the one they had previously made.

“Okay, now we just need a head,” he comments. “One more snowball?”

“One more!” Bee hollers, already smashing snow together to get things started.

It is beyond obvious that there is nothing Kurt Weller would ever sacrifice his daughter for. That he would hurt anyone that even suggested it.

What’s troubling is that, right now, she feels the same way. She wouldn’t trade Bethany’s life for anything, not even to free Shepherd. It’s an unsettling feeling to realize that her terrorist goal of regime change can suddenly not mean anything when love is in play. That she will never be able to kill Kurt Weller, even if she keeps telling herself she will, even if her mission requires it.

As if to prove the point, Remi’s chest warms as she looks up to see Kurt and Bee charging up to her, all rosy cheeks and soggy gear. The moment of affection costs her as she realizes too late that it’s an ambush and can’t avoid the oncoming barrage of snowballs, takes hit after hit before finally managing to scoop up some ammunition of her own, start firing back.

Thankfully Weller can’t really throw hard due to his ribs and she ends up turning Bethany into a double agent, sends her in for a sneak attack that ends up with the three of them soaking, Kurt asking for mercy. He’s got the look of a fevered young boy, joyous but exhausted when she reaches up to kiss his snow-cooled lips, their breath all steamy around them.

After the snow battle she scoops the tired child up in her arms and they walk home, Bee still awake enough to remember that she gets presents next. The toddler babbles on about Santa while Kurt walks beside them and beams at his kid. It is all sickeningly cute. But Remi loves it anyways, can even admit it at the moment.

Of course there’s hot chocolate once they’re back inside and changed into dry clothes, the sugar in the drink breathing energy back into Bethany. She starts in on her stocking, marveling at all the trinkets in the way only a two year old can. And Kurt is so relaxed, all smiles as he gives his daughter way too many presents, everything her little heart desires.

Remi watches and thinks about her own gift to Kurt, all the anxiety she has tied up around it. He’s made no mention of anything for her yet either, which seems out of character for him.

She still wonders if she made the right choice; it had been really difficult to come up with what Jane would give him. Other than more of those crime novels he’s obsessed with, except he already has all of them, of course.

Remi’s still thinking about it nervously when there’s a knock on the door and she looks at Weller, surprised. They aren’t expecting anyone else for Christmas and Allie isn’t due back until dinner. But she notes that Kurt is looking at the door with a rather self-satisfied expression as she gets up to answer it.

When she opens the door and Avery is standing there shouting Merry Christmas, Remi realizes she should have guessed. Even though Avery didn’t know about Jane’s diagnosis, had been spending the holidays with a best friend from home. Kurt would have wanted Jane to have at least one Christmas with her daughter, would have found a way.

“Merry Christmas! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!” Remi exclaims, her emotions all stirred up. She wraps Avery into a hug, bites down hard on her own lip. She had not expected this, has to blink away tears.

“Yeah, and I brought your other gift from Kurt too,” Avery replies cryptically. “Because he’s incapacitated. I just have to haul it in.”

Curiosity piqued, Remi stands there, feels Kurt approach from behind. He wraps his arms around her waist, leans into her gently.

“I didn’t tell her your diagnosis,” he whispers in her ear. “I just said you weren’t feeling well and it was her idea to come.”

“Sure it was,” Remi replies as she turns to face him.

Kurt grins, looks so fucking proud of himself.

“Merry Christmas Jane,” he says fondly.

“Thank you, Kurt,” she replies, the damn tears threatening again. She had never expected to meet her daughter, much less spend Christmas with her.

Avery returns with a gigantic beanbag chair and Remi grins genuinely at the ridiculous object. Kurt had found her lounging in one after an exhausting day arresting criminals ended in a furniture warehouse. She had been so comfortable she was almost asleep when Weller surprised her by leaping on top of her, then snuggling in beside her.

Now she can admit it had been pretty cute. Special Agent Weller all curled up on the job in a giant beanbag. The image comes back to her head, makes her smile again at the memory.

They pull the chair into the apartment and Bee looks at it with wide eyes, then shyly runs up to the big sister she’s only recently met. Avery pulls the toddler into a hug and then tosses her into the beanbag, much to Bethany’s delight.

“More!” she shouts, clearly an adrenaline junkie like her parents.

Remi takes over the task of entertaining Bethany to give Avery a chance to talk to Kurt. He seems to understand her daughter better than she does, gets on just fine with her even after Avery helped set him up, almost destroyed his marriage.

“I can’t believe you got shot on Christmas Eve,” Avery frowns, wrapping her arms gingerly around Kurt. “That is not cool.”

“I didn’t get shot, the bullet barely touched me,” Weller grumbles. “I’m fine.”

“If there was blood from a bullet, you got shot,” Avery argues. “And yea, you look so fine. How would you feel if I hugged you a little tighter?”

Remi grins at Avery’s demanding, worried tone, Weller’s useless attempts to deflect her concern. Finding her daughter as a result of ZIP-ping herself was the most unlikely result she could have ever imagined. She had never let herself think about searching for her, Shepherd would have never allowed it. But the chance to meet her kid, see how she’d turned out. It meant even more to her than she realized.

A bit later, just before dinner, they’ve somehow all managed to squeeze onto the beanbag, even Weller and his sore ribs. Remi looks at her fake family and thinks she’s never had a Christmas like this. For her it’s been a childhood of stark loveless military style holidays, an adulthood that had no space for celebratory love.

She realizes it’s time to give Kurt her present, suddenly feels extremely anxious. Remi is not a timid person, yet she’s nervous about this, really hopes she got it right. It had been a real conundrum; one she couldn’t exactly ask anyone for help with. She had tried so hard to think like Jane, channel her hated alter ego for this one favour. And of course Jane would think about about what matters most to Weller, would give him something straight from the heart.

Remi extracts herself from the heap of bodies, goes and gets the present from under the tree. Passes it to Kurt who’s just about managed to sit up in the big floppy chair.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” she says shyly.

He opens it carefully, looks a bit apprehensive himself. When it’s finally out of the wrapping, he stares at it wordlessly for a long time, then looks up at her with moist eyes.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

Remi feels all her worry fall away, warmth pumping through her heart.

“Daddy and Jane and Avewy and meeeeeee!” Bethany calls out, pointing at the framed drawing in Kurt’s lap.

Weller smiles broadly, his eyes still glistening.

“It sure is, Bee,” he replies. “It’s beautiful, Jane.”

It’s all Kurt Weller wants, what he loves best. His wife, his little girl. His big girl that he readily takes responsibility for, because that’s the kind of man he is.

And if she can give it to him, even just for a day? He deserves it. For Christmas.

Remi crawls back into the beanbag, snuggles up against Kurt who’s lying back, still staring at the picture with a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” she says, settling in close beside him.

Weller passes the drawing over so Avery and Bethany can see, turns his attention to his wife. The look in his eyes is overly expressive, the way it always is for her.

“I love it,” he replies.

“And I love you,” he adds, with an air of reverence.

“She knows,” Avery groans. “You tell her all the time.”

Remi laughs, nuzzles her nose into the crook of Kurt’s neck.

“I know,” she murmurs. “I love you too.”

She could never have seen this coming, Love, a family. Making her teenager scurry off to check on dinner by kissing her husband too passionately on an absurd piece of furniture.

The thing is, it’s not her life. It doesn’t belong to her. She should be so very disdainful of it.

Remi had woken up six months ago with a husband she hated voraciously, alone and spiteful in a world gone wrong. But if someone came in tonight to try and tried to hurt him, she knows she would defend him to her last breath. Even though it would mean failing her mission, giving up on Shepherd.

Because he’s a good-hearted stubborn bastard, Mr tough guy Fed with a thoughtful loving soul. And right now she wants this more than anything. For him and for herself. Their family all together on a perfect Christmas day, Kurt at peace with himself, feeling loved.

Even if it isn’t really her family, even if she has to give it all back to Jane one day. This is her Christmas present to her other self.

I saved him for you, Jane, she thinks as he trails pre-dinner kisses up her neck. And gave him the Christmas he deserved.

Because Kurt Weller won her over too. Screwed things up epically by making her love him, giving her the best goddamned Christmas of her life.

#season of hate/season of love #jeller #reller #remi/kurt #blindspot #blindspot in a winter wonderland

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holidayblindspot · 5 years ago

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Season of Hate/Season of Love (part 2)

The second part of RAnsomedR0gue’s seasonal Reller fic - chapter 1 can be found HERE.

***

The place Weller has picked for dinner is perfect. An upscale but homey vegan restaurant with little private alcoves, hidden seating to shield from curious eyes. She can tell right away that Jane would love it.

Of course Remi tries to hate it, feels the need to be extra resentful after completely giving into his ridiculous spa day, failing to show any semblance of self control. But the whole thing had felt like a waking dream, all frosty and steamy. And in her dreams she lets herself love him, allows him to love her back.

She wishes it hadn’t felt just as good in real life, makes her eye Weller longingly even now. Luckily he’s not looking at her for once, is informing the hostess of their reservation, and she manages to snap herself out of it before he glances back at her.

Get it together, soldier, she tells herself. Orders herself to stop thinking about his thumbs running up her wet back, his mouth touching that sensitive spot behind her ear she hadn’t even known about.

Remi exhales a long breath, forces her mind onto something else, anything else. Even just the merry eco-warrior urbanites with their alternative diets, their pathetic notions that they’re making a real difference by eating chickpeas instead of chicken. If Remi gave a rat’s ass about small time shit like overly cooped up chickens, there would be a lot of poultry farms on fire. Now that would make change, she thinks. Not eating soy cheese.

Goddamned vegan food, she grumbles to herself for the millionth time. Even though she had stopped craving meat ages ago, hasn’t snuck a turkey club since Weller got out of the hospital and started cooking for her. He had even become proficient at making tofu taste good, just another thing to be equally impressed and irritated by.

Stop it, she reminds herself. Pushes to come up with other inconsequential mental snipes at the décor, the hipster staff. But of course all she can think about is how much it suits her with the dim privacy, the artsy noir style art. How Weller much have trekked all around the city searching for the right place to take her because it’s clear he did a thorough job, did not just look at internet photos and reviews.

Remi glances around the restaurant, again trying to shake her faux husband out of her head. It takes her a moment to realize she’s been idly scanning the crowd for danger, searching for the most secure locations, all possible entry and exit points. An old ingrained habit, residue from being blown up, left for dead. Though lately she hasn’t felt the need as strongly, isn’t nearly as tense anymore, so acutely aware of everything.

She still remembers too clearly what it was like after the drone attack that nearly killed her. That feeling that she could be ambushed at anytime, the only warning being a whine just before detonation. The need to protect herself in the most innocuous of circumstances, the fear of every possibility.

It’s the only thing she’s thankful for since she woke up in another life. That her PTSD symptoms aren’t nearly as pronounced, constantly plaguing her. She’s no longer hyper sensitive, too sharp and snappy. Which doesn’t make any sense to her, especially because she’s all alone in hostile territory all the time now, with no allies to help protect her.

Irritably, her mind flashes yet again to Weller at that moment, makes her glance up at him. Remi feels a sad smile touch her lips as she sees that he’s also scanning the restaurant, scrutinizing the patrons and the staff. He reflexively puts his arm around her back as he looks for danger, probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Similarly, he shields her with his body, guarding her from the unknown perils of the other vegan diners, the neo-bohemian servers. Because of course Kurt’s traumatic stress revolves entirely around her, just like the rest of his existence.

His latent anxiety is making her feel edgy again too. But the fear she faces isn’t equipped with AR-15s, 9 mms. She’s just not looking forward to such a private dinner with Kurt, still can’t stop fucking feeling his hands all over her in the hot tub. It makes her cringe yet again, remembering how she had confided in him, let her real self slip through.

The worst part is he had given her an out, a guiltless way to escape his romantic plans. He would have even blamed it all on himself, somehow found fault in everything he did. But she hadn’t been able to lie to him, which was completely out of character for her. Worse yet, had then doubled down by grabbing onto him fiercely, letting him drown her in love.

Remi chastises herself again for being weak, susceptible to his charm. Is just telling herself that she’s going to re-establish her front lines at dinner when Weller slips his hand into hers, squeezes reassuringly.

“Ready?” he murmurs into her ear, so close his breath tickles.

No, she thinks. She’s not ready at all. Hasn’t the willpower to even harm him, much less kill him.

Remi nods, lets him tug her through to their hidden booth, in a back nook with good sightlines and egress routes. It’s both incredibly secure and charming, she has to fight hard not to love it. Even when she notices the cozy layout of the side-by-side seating.

They settle in and order drinks from their server, then it’s quiet between them for a moment as Remi pretends to look at the menu and Kurt does another quick glance around the place

She thinks how he’s so clueless about the danger he’s in, that she could easily murder him anytime. Yet he spends his days worrying about everyone else, her especially.

Case in point, he’s just done observing the entire restaurant and still feels tense beside her despite the fact there’s nothing even remotely threatening about their environment.

“Do you think something’s going on with our server?” Kurt asks, wearing his investigative frown.

Their server hadn’t said anything other than the usual season’s greetings, told them about drink specials. Nor had she seemed anything other than an average artsy vegan waitress, probably just another overworked wannabe actress.

“No, Kurt,” Remi sighs. “I think you’re being paranoid.”

Weller grunts his dissatisfaction with her answer, shakes his head thoughtfully.

“She seems tense,” he mutters.

This coming from the tensest man in the world, she thinks wryly.

“I’m sure everything’s fine Kurt,” Remi replies. “It’s not up to you to protect everyone.”

Kurt exhales irritably, like he disapproves of the mere concept. But he lets it go for the moment, turns to her and looks at her, his brow furrowed.

“No, just you,” he states, his blue eyes suddenly sad. “And I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

Remi turns towards him and frowns, finds that she’s somehow taken his hand in hers, is grasping it reassuringly.

“Kurt,” she groans. “It’s Christmas and I’m right here. Cheer up. Everything’s going to be fine, remember? Or have you been lying to me this whole time?”

She wins a rueful grin for that, feels that warmth in her chest again. Can’t help but grip his fingers even tighter, rub the base of his thumb with hers. Sometimes it’s impossible to deny that she wants to protect him too. Which then makes her do mental gymnastics afterwards to sort out why

Sitting there though, she suddenly intuits the truth, it all snaps together.

Weller makes her feel safe. The overbearing protectiveness, so tight that it chafes, has an effect other than irritating the shit out of her.

Remi freezes at her revelation, shudders as the icy cold truth drips down the back of her neck. It makes no goddamned sense that knowingly sleeping with the enemy has somehow resolved most of her PTSD. She tries to tell herself it was the ZIP, that the drug was used experimentally as a cure for the disorder. But she knows that ZIP’s effectiveness in treating PTSD was highly questionable. And she can’t deny that Weller’s presence makes her feel secure, reminds her that he is always looking out for her.

Kurt pulls his hand free from hers, runs it up her back until he gets to the base of her neck, pauses there to rub her bare skin gently, as if to prove the point.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “You are right here. I shouldn’t waste that.”

The tone of his voice tells her what’s coming next, yet she doesn’t resist in the slightest as he pulls her into a kiss that starts out wistful and sweet, then deepens with urgency until they’re awkwardly interrupted by the waitress returning with drinks.

Remi pulls back, glad the darkness of their table hides the flush she can feel on her face. Weller’s wearing a look of irritated amusement, the blue of his eyes twinkling vividly despite the dim lighting.

“Well, that never changes,” he comments with a wry laugh.

She finds herself smirking too, a wisp of another life breaking through the barrier. It’s the strangest feeling, to be smiling and not really know why. Like Jane’s memories are there, shimmering in her subconscious. Not clearly enough to see, just enough to make her feel.

Like right now, this shared moment of annoyed amusement with Weller. An in joke she’s not in on.

Usually Remi clamps down on these glimmers of Jane, but tonight she’s all out of resistance. She has to admit that Kurt has played it well, has sapped her of any fight. So she laughs with him easily for once, even finds herself initiating a little footsy action while they order.

While they wait for their food they continue their back booth make out session for awhile then talk about Bethany’s visit the next day, which Remi can’t help but be excited for. Unexpectedly she likes Weller’s daughter, finds her little toddler grumpy Weller-face hilariously cute. And it’s hard to hate a kid that fucking adores you the way Bee adores Jane. Especially when you missed out on the life of your own kid, still regret it to this day.

Weller himself looks beyond excited about actually having his daughter for Christmas day, his eyes beaming, his body language all joyful anticipation. Of course he’s an attentive committed father, full of patience and love.

Like you knew he’d be, she thinks to herself, another distant echo.

It’s as if the walls have thinned with a day of snow dust, fairy lights. She feels the line between her and Jane flexing, dissolving. Usually it would fill her with anxiety, self-questioning. But Remi’s starting to think she can let herself off for Christmas.

Dinner floats by, Weller making her laugh a ridiculous amount of times with his laments about having selected Rich as his post-Christmas Secret Santa recipient, his absurd present ideas for the abnormally grating reformed dark web hacker. Which then leads to Remi confessing that Patterson told her Rich had fixed the draw and selected Jane as his present recipient, of course.

“But we picked names from a hat!” Weller exclaims, shaking his head in exasperation. “How can he rig something like that?”

Remi shrugs in shared mystified annoyance.

“It’s Rich,” she replies. “Everything about him is impossible.”

When their server comes back to ask about dessert they’ve moved on groaning about what Rich might be planning on getting her, the way he always tries to get a rise out of her. Weller glances at the dessert menu for a nanosecond before ordering the double chocolate lava cake, looks disappointed in her when she chooses something much less extravagant.

The waitress leaves with their orders, Kurt’s eyes following her as she stops at the bar to enter it into the system. Remi wonders what he sees, why he’s been half-watching her all evening. If she was less sure of his absolute devotion she would think he was interested. But she knows him well enough to read the protectiveness in his body language. He intuits there’s something wrong, that she needs help. Which is Weller’s way usually, an instinct that is annoyingly right most of the time.

Remi mostly thinks he’s being paranoid, somehow wants to self-sabotage Christmas because he’s so anxious about getting it right. But then again Weller does have some sort of spidey sense for people that need of protection.

She sighs, hopes he will just let it go and eat his ridiculous dessert. Kisses him on the edge of his forehead and tells him to not worry so much as she gets up, finds her way to the restroom.

She’s on her way back to their table when Remi hears the unmistakable sound of a gun shot coming from just out back of the restaurant. When Weller doesn’t come running through to check on the situation she sprints for their table, fear leaping into her mind as she remembers he had taken his weapon off while they were making out earlier.

She’s not surprised that Weller isn’t at their booth but she does swear and panic at the sight of his holster and gun, still wedged into the seating. He never forgets to take his weapon anywhere.

Remi tucks the gun into her pants, draws her own and runs for the back door

***

Weller smiles to himself, the feeling of Jane’s lips still warm against his temple as he watches her walk off towards the restrooms. The spa had been a winning idea after all, she’d been loose and expressive throughout dinner. This time It’s him that has the problem, the inescapable curse of worrying about everything, always being on guard. Especially since Jane’s been sick, he’s hyper aware of any possible danger, feels the need to protect her at all times.

Which is rationally ridiculous, because she’s tougher and more capable than he is despite the ZIP poisoning. And she hates it, is always sighing at him, telling him not to worry so much.

He can’t help it though, needs to be sure. It’s why he cased vegan restaurants all around the city before finding this one, both secure and private. Good entry and exit points, no one to stare at Jane except for him.

But despite the prime setting Kurt’s still been on high alert all night, has the worst feeling creeping at his neck about their server’s tight body language, her distracted glances around. He’s been trying to tell himself that Jane’s right, that he’s just reading too much into things, his anxiety setting off false positives.

Still, Kurt watches as their waitress walks down the hallway towards the back door of the restaurant with a bag of garbage and doesn’t immediately return. Feels his spine tingle with nervous anticipation.

Probably just going for a smoke break too, Weller thinks to himself. Though she hadn’t smelled like a smoker and he hadn’t seen her go out back previously that night.

The gears whirr in his head, his well-honed gut instinct fitting things together. The layout of the restaurant, how he’d seen a couple kissing in the alley just outside the back door when he’d come to look at the place a few weeks ago, the similarities between their server and the woman he’d seen. Now that he thinks about it, he’s fairly certain it’s the same person, just much tighter in her shoulders, a different energy to her.

It is most likely that he’s being paranoid, working himself up about nothing. But when he waits five more minutes and the waitress still hasn’t come back down the hall, Kurt can’t help but get up and go investigate.

Weller heads towards the back exit, hopes he’s about to run into his quarry and have to make some awkward excuse for following her down a dark hallway. But he doesn’t see her anywhere, opens the back door and is peering out when he hears the unmistakable sound of a strangled scream from across the alleyway.

Kurt bolts out the door, sees their waitress being choked against a concrete wall by a huge man with a gun. There’s a utility van with its back doors open nearby as well and it’s clear that the man is trying to abduct her.

“Freeze, FBI!” Weller hollers, reaching for his service weapon.

He’s halfway through the action when he realizes his mistake. He’d taken it off because it kept getting in his way while he was kissing Jane.

He’s going to die because he couldn’t help being handsy with his wife.

The man turns slowly and Kurt is already halfway there, launching himself into a flying tackle.

The element of surprise saves his life and Weller manages to knock the other man’s gun hand aside as he fires a shot. The bullet somehow skims across his collarbone instead of penetrating his chest cavity. Burns a bloody line along his chest as they hit the ground and Kurt slams the gun out of his assailant’s hand.

By that time the other man has read the situation and starts to use his size advantage to turn and pin Weller to the ground, hammer at his head with a giant fist. Kurt takes two hard hits to the temple, feels his skull crushed between the man’s knuckles and the rough concrete. Blood starts to drip down his face as he struggles to get free, just manages to knee the other guy in the crotch and slip out from under his weight.

Weller stumbles two steps towards the abandoned gun before he’s tackled from behind and tumbles hard to the ground. His attacker manages to get up before he does and viciously kicks him in the ribs with a steel-toed boot, then again in the head so hard Kurt almost passes out. He struggles to remain conscious, feels the foot connect again with his torso, directly in the sternum. Weller struggles for breath, tries to roll away when he sees the sole of the boot coming down at him and braces himself for having his teeth smashed in.

Jane is going to be really upset with him for dying on Christmas Eve, his half conscious mind thinks as the foot approaches his head. But then just as the rubber is about to touch his face, Weller hears a gunshot, feels a spray of blood that isn’t his own, sees his assailant fall to the ground clutching at his side.

Jane runs over, secures the perp with zip ties before kneeling down beside him and looking him over frantically.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” Jane exclaims. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay,” he grunts, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“You don’t look okay,” she replies, her green eyes dark with concern. “Your head is bleeding pretty badly. And your chest too, it looks like.”

She puts her hand on his jaw, lifts his head so she can assess his pupils and frowns at what she sees. He can tell she’s about to say that he’s concussed, that he needs to go to the hospital.

“I’m fine, Jane,” Weller groans, attempting a pre-emptive strike. The last thing he wants to do is spend Christmas Eve in the ER. They were meant to spend the rest of the night playing tourist in their own city, walk around to all the holiday displays, admire the festive lights.

“You call it in and see if our waitress is okay,” he adds. “I just need to clean up a bit.”

She’s still looking at him worriedly, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone.

“An ambulance and NYPD are already on their way,” she says. “And the waitress is fine, she’s the one that called 911. She’s inside with the manager now, everything’s being dealt with.”

Weller breathes a sigh of relief, scrubs his sleeve over the blood dripping down his face then winces at the sting of the cut. He brings his hand up again to probe at the injury but Jane catches it and puts it back down at his side before reaching her own hand up to tenderly wipe away the blood with a napkin, examine the cut.

“You’re going to need stitches,” she comments as she applies pressure to the wound, tries to stop the bleeding.

Kurt sighs, thinks it’s unlikely he’s going to win this argument. Jane’s too stubborn and is probably right. His head is still bleeding profusely and the pain in his temple has steadily increased to the point of being debilitating. So he’s probably going to end up in the hospital despite his annoyance with the circumstances, knowing that he’s managed to screw up yet another Christmas for Jane.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking at her sadly.

Jane tilts her head and looks at him, her eyes twinkling with exasperation.

“You’re sorry you saved our waitress’s life?” she asks. “I still can’t believe you were right. Or that you forgot your gun.”

“I was distracted,” Weller declares with a groan. “That was so stupid. This is all my fault.”

“Hmm. Yeah, your fault for caring too much about everyone,” she replies, shaking her head at him. “Although I think it’s at least half my fault you weren’t wearing your holster.”

Kurt grins sheepishly, tilts his head towards her and then grunts at the pain of the movement, the nausea that washes through him.

Jane’s eyes emit alarm as he scurries away to vomit, heaves over and over until his ribs are screaming with the same intensity as his head.

Shit, you really screwed this up, he tells himself. Great worry free Christmas you’re giving your sick wife.

As if to prove his point, he feels Jane’s arms encircle him from behind, one hand on his bloody collarbone, the other rubbing his back gently. It feels incredible despite all the pain and he lets her soothe his hurt away even though he feels pathetic about allowing it.

“How bad is it?” she asks, her tone sadly stern, her breath soft against his ear. “The truth.”

Weller closes his eyes to push away another wave of vertigo, feels each shaky breath brush harshly against his broken ribs. His headache intensifies as he tries to resist puking again and for a moment all he can do is hug himself and softly moan.

“That’s pretty bad,” Jane states, answering her own question.

She’s still draped lightly over his back, her breath warm against his neck. He can hear the worry in her voice, the slightly tearful inflection. Knows she’s trying to hold it back so he doesn’t feel bad about upsetting her, which just makes him feel worse about it all.

It helps a bit when their waitress comes out to tearfully thank him, tells them how she had just left her husband and he’d started threatening her a few days ago, saying how he couldn’t spend Christmas alone. But she’d never expected that things would go so far, that he would threaten to kill them both.

The woman is extremely grateful, apologizes over and over while Weller tries to deflect her gratitude, tell her that he was just doing his job. Because all he can think about is how incredibly idiotic it was to forget his weapon, that he deserves everything he got as a result of such a basic error.

Eventually she tells them that their meal is paid for, that the owner of the restaurant wants to invite them back for another free dinner so they get a chance to finish their date. Of course Weller tries to tell her it’s not necessary and then shakes his head too vigorously, feels his body fill with nausea yet again.

Jane lets go of him so he can scurry away far enough to dry heave and groan with some dignity. When he’s finally done retching a few minutes later, the seeping cold of shock is starting to set in between his shoulders and Kurt begins to tremble uncontrollably in his soggy and bloody clothes.

Thankfully Jane must have seen him shivering and realized what he needed because she comes rushing over with his jacket, some towels, and a blanket. She sits behind him again and cuts his soggy shirt off with a pair of scissors, then wipes him dry with a towel before gently dressing him in his jacket. Next, she drapes the blanket over his shoulders and around his shaking torso, wraps her arms around his chest and starts to rub her hands up and down his arm while breathing hot air against the nape of his neck.

“So are you going to let me take you to the hospital?” she asks, as if he could really deny her anything. Even if he wasn’t in a world of hurt, definitely needs medical attention.

Weller nods ruefully, then gasps as the throbbing in his temple becomes even more unrelenting.

It’s like Jane can feel what’s going on in his body, leans him back and cradles his head against her chest, rubs soothingly at the pain with her thumbs.

“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, her lips tickly against the back of his head. “And an idiot.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees. “Your idiot.”

“Yeah,” Jane replies. “My heroic idiot. That was pretty incredible, Kurt.”

He allows himself a half grin, despite still feeling like he’s messed things up yet again. Jane doesn’t seem to be annoyed at his stupidity, is just worried that he’s covered in blood and in a significant amount of pain. Which isn’t ideal, definitely not the perfect holiday he’d planned. But he can tell she’s proud of him as she nuzzles her nose into the nape of his neck, holds him to her as firmly as she can without hurting his sore chest.

“Well, I have a lot of catching up to do,” he declares. “You’re incredible all the time.”

He feels her smile against his skin, then kiss him on the top of his head.

“Shut up, Kurt,” she murmurs with a laugh. “You’re delirious.”

But he doesn’t follow orders, continues to lean against her and go on about all the ways in which he adores her. Because it makes her smile and sigh, makes him forget about the pounding in his head, the difficulty of breathing, until he finally hears multiple vehicles with sirens pull up in the alleyway.

The EMTs unload and ask him too many questions as Jane helps him lie down gently on the stretcher and they quickly load him into the back of the ambulance. The sudden movement of the gurney makes his vision swim again and he barely manages to keep from retching as they secure him for transport.

Thankfully Jane clambers in after him and sees that he’s struggling, grabs his hand and squeezes, then and skims her other palm over his chest lightly.

“It’s okay,” she says, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “They’re going to give you something for the pain, it should make you comfortable until we’re at the hospital. So try and rest, Kurt. I’m here, you’re safe.”

It’s what he’s meant to be doing for her, keeping her safe, protecting his wife.

But then again he married Jane, deadly compassionate, always more worried about everyone else than herself, even with a fatal illness. Capable of anything, including saving his life on Christmas Eve, soothing him to sleep in a sea of hurt.

#season of hate/season of love #blindspot #blindspot in a winter wonderland #reller #remi/kurt #blindspot fanfic

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holidayblindspot · 5 years ago

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Season of Hate/Season of Love (part 1)

Written by RAnsomedR0gue for the Blindspot in a Winter Wonderland event. Part 2 will be posted on December 9th!

***

Remi is nervous.

Which is new to her, something she doesn’t like it at all. She wasn’t nervous on combat missions, assassinations. She wasn’t even nervous about erasing her memory, having her entire body tattooed.

But this. Christmas Eve date day with Weller. She’s extremely tense, admonishes herself for not having pre-emptively killed him to get her out of this situation.

Though she has to admit the chocolate banana crepes he made for brunch were, in themselves, almost enough incentive to let him live. Even if he’s now dragged her to a holistic spa for a day of relaxing and pampering.

At first she thought he was just dropping her off, giving her some alone time. But she should have known better. Weller has no concept of wanting space from his wife. And has endless ways of surprising Remi, despite all the research she’d done into his life before handing herself over to him.

Surprise of the hour, their couple’s spa date. Who would have thought the surly special agent would be into therapeutic massage, eucalyptus steamrooms, hot baths. She doesn’t know why it makes her so anxious, she’s been playing his wife for months now. And despite his recovery and her illness there haven’t been enough viable excuses to abolish sex from their relationship. That, and Weller can be particularly convincing, has insider knowledge on how to turn her on physically.

So, he’s seen her naked plenty of times, she’s gotten used to it even. At least here they’re both wearing swim suits, were given fluffy robes too. Still, spending the day in hot pools and then getting massages together sounds intimidating to her. Extremely exposed, much too intimate.

Remi sighs, knows she’s delayed too long already. She walks out of the changing room into the crisp outdoor air, sees that snow has started to coat everything in white. Begrudgingly she thinks how magical everything looks, how inviting the steam of the pools is.

She spots Weller already soaking by a bubbling jet of water, following her possessively with his eyes even though she’s still wrapped up in her robe. It almost makes her smile, seeing how much he appreciates her. Even if she is only wearing his wife’s skin, wants to hate him. His love is overwhelming at times, makes her forget it isn’t meant for her.

Remi takes off her robe, hangs it on a hook. She can sense Weller gaping at her, allows herself a satisfied smile when she turns around and he looks completely star struck.

It doesn’t seem to matter to him that she’s lost muscle due to an increase in her symptoms, less time and energy to work out. It annoys her that she feels the need to measure up to Jane’s high standards, that she’s the one who went through SEAL training but Jane ended up with the impeccable fitness reputation at the FBI. Especially now, with her body rapidly failing her. Remi feels on edge about losing her most prized asset, her physical abilities. Hates that she’s more skinny than strong, that she feels vulnerable without her clothes on. Body image has never been a problem for her before. But that was before all the tattoos, a defective body, a stranger for a husband.

Weller himself though, he’s not the problem. The look in his eyes when he rakes them over her never changes from pure adoration. It’s almost difficult to be revered that much but she can’t deny its appeal. She certainly doesn’t have to worry about her ‘husband’ having a roving eye when it’s constantly glued to her.

Right now though his intense scrutiny is making her anxious as Remi enters the pool slowly, adjusts to the heat of the water before stepping her way over towards him.

“You’re staring,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes. “I know,” he replies, with a self-satisfied grin.

She should hate it, how possessive he is of her. It makes everything harder, is a constant source of annoyance. But that look on his face, as if awestruck by his good fortune. It’s hard to remember she’s not supposed to want it, that is is absolutely not endearing how much he adores her.

“I can’t help it. You are just so damn beautiful,” Weller continues.

Shit. It’s not meant to feel so good when he says things like that. She’s supposed to be inwardly repulsed while outwardly responding just enough to play her mark. She should only want him to think that she’s attractive so she has a way to manipulate him. Not because it tints her in warmth, because it actually makes her feel beautiful.

Remi feels another genuine smile escape, tries to hide it by ducking her head away as she floats over. But then she’s there beside him, sitting closer than she means to and he brings his hand up to her jaw, runs his thumb over her cheekbone. Turns her head towards him, so she can’t avoid the intense blue of his gaze.

“You know that right?” he asks quietly.

She knows it’s not a rhetorical question from his solemn tone, the sincerity of his eyes. Weller is incredibly easy to read when it comes to Jane, has no ability to be subtle about his wife. And right now he is pouring his heart into convincing her that her failing body is still attractive, that he thinks she’s perfect. Because he senses that she’s lost confidence in how she looks, is determined to fix it by showering her in love and compliments.

No wonder it’s a constant shitshow disaster trying not to love him back.

“Yes, Kurt,” she sighs, struggling not to betray how much his comment really means.

But then he wipes his thumb over her cheek once more, tilts her chin up and kisses her sweetly, pulling back just as more urgency begins to develop.

“Good,” he replies. “Because sometimes I think you forget. But I remember every time I look at you.”

He’s so corny she wants to groan in his face. Remi tells herself she would have already done it without a speck of regret if it wasn’t for her Jane act. But instead she shakes her head at him, doesn’t bother fighting the smile that comes to her lips.

“You didn’t tell me that Christmas makes you so sentimental,” she admonishes, trying to deflect an onrush of emotion.

“Hmmm. I guess Christmas makes me sentimental,” Kurt admits with a shrug, followed by another soft kiss.

Shit, Remi thinks. It’s only early afternoon on Christmas Eve. She doesn’t think she can take another day and a half of Weller being adorable.

***

Weller has never been a big Christmas person, a result of a disappointing childhood. He was always nervous about the holidays, wanting to make it fun and ‘normal’ for his little sister so she didn’t realize all the things wrong with their lives. Certainly, since the age of ten, he’s never thought of Christmas as a joyous time. The holiday season only pointed out all that he didn’t have, highlighted all his perceived flaws.

He feels much the same about Christmas and his wife, their whirlwind relationship having sabotaged the holidays every year he’s known her. Which he takes upon himself as a personal failure, just one of his many regrets.

Her first Christmas was spent in a CIA black site being tortured by Jake Keaton. Her second she was on the run and he was too miserable to even enjoy Bethany’s first Christmas. Her third was just after he confessed about Avery and she left him again.

Now this year she’s sick and it’s breaking his heart. Kurt refuses to believe this could be her last one and yet he has to prepare just in case. It’s been making him extremely anxious, desperate to make things perfect for her. Especially because she’s been so closed off since he came out of the coma, even harder to crack than usual.

He understands it’s just her own way, that it’s his inclination too. To hide the hurt and the fear, to hunker down within instead of reaching out. Because talking about it makes it all too real, exposes everything. But it kills him that she won’t confide in him, makes his worry levels shoot through the roof.

Weller knows he has no control over it, isn’t even upset with her. Jane’s determined spirit, her tendency to want to take things on alone, it’s part of her and he loves all of her. He’s just angry at the circumstances that gave her a fatal disease, furious that he can’t do more to solve all of her problems, relieve her stress, take care of his wife.

So instead of stewing in his endless frustration, he’d thrown himself fully into one thing he could control. Giving her the best Christmas ever, to make up for all the terrible ones in their past.

However now, sitting in a hot pool, watching his gorgeous wife walk over and unrobe, Kurt has to admit this part of the plan is a bit self-serving. Even if his purported goal is to make her feel as beautiful as she is, despite her illness. He can tell she’s not satisfied with her own body lately, has noticed her frowning at herself in the mirror, exercising even when her energy levels aren’t up to it.

Of course it hasn’t changed how he feels about her, to him she’s as stunning as ever. He stares wide-eyed as Jane slowly enters the pool and walks over to him. There’s snow in her hair, sparkly flakes on her eyelashes. She looks like a fierce winter nymph, all fresh and deadly. Weller knows that he’s gaping, does nothing to try to stop it. She overwhelms his senses in the best possible way.

“You’re staring,” she grumbles, rolls her eyes at him dramatically.

“I know,” he replies, grinning broadly. “I can’t help it. You are just so damn beautiful.”

Jane lets a smile slip through, tries to tilt her head so he can’t see it as she sits beside him. He’s not fooled though, he can tell she’s still unsure of herself, isn’t entirely convinced. Which is not okay with him at all, needs to be immediately remedied.

He reaches his hand up to her jaw, runs his wet thumb over her cheek.

“You know that right?” he asks quietly.

Jane doesn’t avoid his eyes this time, looks at him and shakes her head fondly.

“Yes, Kurt,” she sighs.

He’d promised himself he’d be restrained, that he was not going to turn a day all about Jane into his own desire of making out with her in a hot tub. Still, he can’t help it as he wipes his thumb over her cheek once more, tilts her chin up and kisses her softly. Though he does somehow manage to pull back just as things get a little heated.

“Good,” he replies. “Because sometimes I think you forget. But I remember every time I see you.”

So often with Jane he finds himself voicing very un-Weller-like things. Sappy emotional stuff that should make him flinch just to think about. Yet he constantly wants to say these things to her, to make her smile, to make her groan, to let her know exactly how he feels about her.

“You didn’t tell me that Christmas makes you so sentimental,” she mutters, though he can tell she’s only pretending to be annoyed.

“Hmmm. I guess Christmas makes me sentimental,” he shrugs, even though it’s really Jane that makes him feel this way. He can’t exactly admit that though, not when she already thinks he’s being overly expressive.

Kurt pulls her in for one more kiss before tempering his longing and letting go. Reminds himself it’s not about his needs, that it’s Jane’s day and she hasn’t been as comfortable with physical affection lately. She still sometimes uses it as a tool to distract him, end disagreements. But she’s also more resistant to his advances, holds herself away. Which he hopes is just Jane trying to shield him from her illness, a result of her recent body image issues. Not a sign that she’s detaching from him, doesn’t enjoy the feeling of his touch anymore.

She stays at a distance for awhile, he can see her mind stirring. He’s learned not to take it too personally, her new need for space. As much as he wants to fix everything for her, he can’t control how she feels about being sick, how she deals with the spectre of death. All he can do is be there for her when she allows it, swallow his hurt when she doesn’t.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Kurt asks, wonders what he did to upset her. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up how she looks, put that in her mind. Or she didn’t want to be kissed, touched by him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he continues, worry starting to collect in his spine.

Good one, Weller, he thinks. Way to screw it up less than ten minutes into a date he had wanted to make perfect.

Jane exhales audibly then finally looks up at him, her expression in between worlds. He’s had a hard time reading her since she was diagnosed, which just terrifies him more, makes him feel like he’s losing her already. At the moment she looks to be battling herself, resisting some inner inclination.

Just as he thinks she’s about to push him away, possibly run from the pool, Jane lets a smidgen of a smile through, bites the lower corner of her lip in that way that absolutely slays him.

“I’m not upset,” she confesses as she scoots over and reaches her arms around his neck, buries herself into his chest.

Weller wraps himself around his wife, utterly shocked in the best way possible. He relishes in the invitation to touch her, runs twin lines up her back and neck with his hands and feels her shiver despite the heat of the water.

When Jane looks up again, she’s wearing an expression he hasn’t seen since before they found out about the ZIP poisoning. One he thought he might never see again.

This time she pulls herself up towards him, kisses him with more passion than appropriate in a public pool. Not that he’s opposed to it, would break his personal code of conduct for this kind of encouragement from Jane anytime.

Kurt responds eagerly, has desperately missed this kind of heat from her. Even when he gently coaxes her into sex these days she’s holding something back, some piece of herself. Now though, it’s all of her, this woman that means everything to him.

When they finally pause for a breath, he tries to tamp down his arousal, remind himself where he is. Jane does not help though when she gazes at him intently, the green of her eyes lit with pleasure.

“You make me feel so good, Kurt,” she says sincerely, with an openness that’s been absent for so long.

His chest floods with warmth, absolute joy.

Kurt Weller can disarm bombs, stop terrorist attacks. Arrest murderers, save innocent lives. But this is what brings him the most fulfilment. Showering his wife with love, making her feel beautiful and appreciated on Christmas Eve.

#season of hate/season of love #blindspot #blindspot in a winter wonderland #reller #remi/kurt

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