#holidayblindspot

[take2intotheshower]

Hot drinks.

(Blindspot Season 1)

12 Days of Blindspot Prompts: Day 2 - Hot Drinks

[theta-scenario]

I would suggest a Halloween @holidayblindspot this year, but I don't know if there would be many takers, plus we've got the season 2 rewatch starting in October...so maybe not.

[birdsaesthetic]

Jane’s sketchbook

Summary: Jane freaking out over losing her sketchbook, my participation for 12 Days of Blindspot.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago then ignored it... But then I saw these prompts from @holidayblindspot which reminded me of already having written something that goes with one of the prompts, so I thought this was a sign for me to edit it real quick and post it. I’m so exited to be sharing this here because it’s beautiful and really worth sharing. ENJOY! 

Day 5: A ruined day. 

“Kurt,” Jane called from across the front room, to which Kurt immediately looked up and responded, “Yeah?”

“Have you seen my sketchbook?”

Looking around him quickly yet carefully, Kurt murmured, “No,” he then looked up at her, who seemed stunned at having heard the No from him. 

The two were in the middle of unpacking the boxes they brought up with them from their old apartment in New York all the way to the new one in Colorado, which, after managing to unpack the majority of the boxes and placing their contents ever since morning, it finally started to feel like home. Like their old apartment in New York. 

Doing so had been so fun at first, each one was having a glass of red wine in hand and there was loud music playing in the background and, since there weren’t curtains covering the windows just yet, there was the beautiful addition of bright and warm sunlight streaming inside the spacious front room that felt so rewarding and motivating. But when the sun went down, taking with it its light and warmth, the work got monotonous, and so by now they were both exhausted and hungry. 

Jane was also confused now. 

She looked down at all the boxes scattered on the floor around her, which were almost empty by now, and she felt the world spinning around her in confusion and fear for having been unable to locate her sketchbook among all these boxes. 

“Why? Couldn’t you find it?” Asked Kurt, seemingly confused too as he approached her.

Creases were starting to form on her forehead as she shook her head in confusion. “No,” she said quietly, then jumped from one box to another, double checking each one, randomly, quickly and with both hands, as if she were digging into a hole. And then, after all of that, which was in a span of thirty seconds, she shook her head yet again, though this time in disappointment, and looked up at Kurt in a plea for understanding. “I don’t know why I can’t find it because it should be here. I put it here. I put all my small things here, and I didn’t have a lot of things!” 

Kurt was standing right before her by now, hunching over to check inside the boxes again. It was helpless, he knew; she’d already rummaged in all those boxes with eager hands and big eyes and yet found nothing... But if there was a one-in-a-million chance, he would absolutely take it when it came to her.

When his eyes, wide open, met hers, he suggested, “Okay, maybe you’ve just got confused. Try to remember where you’ve last seen it.” She swallowed hard and tried to do as told, mouth slightly open. She settled her gaze at a random spot on his chest as both of them stood close against one another, then she pushed her mind so hard to visualize where she’d last seen the sketchbook and what she was doing, so she could retrace her steps in the process and hopefully remember something. 

But it was after a long, unbearable moment when Jane pushed her lower lip out in a sad pout and gave a shake of her head. Kurt hugged her loosely then. “It’s okay, we still have another set of boxes to be delivered here tomorrow morning.” He reminded her. “Hopefully we find it within one of the boxes then.”

Jane pulled back to look up at him, the sad look remained on her face. “But those coming boxes only have the kitchen supplies!” 

“You don’t know, maybe you forgot it there!”

“It’s not possible... I put it here,”

“Everything is possible.” He encouraged, then added, “Aren’t you hungry by now, though? Because I’m so hungry! How about pb&j for dinner, huh?”

“I don’t mind.” Jane muttered with a shrug. 

Together they decided to call it a day after dinner and climbed into bed, crawling close to each other as they lied down against the mattress. Their foreheads were touching as they shared a loving gaze, then Kurt whispered, “Can I get my good night kiss, or you don’t feel like—”

“No—yes, of course you’re getting your good night kiss!” She rushed to say, reassuring him just before she smiled the tiniest of smiles and kissed him hard on the lips, to which he kissed her back even harder. After that, she placed her hand over his arm that had been wrapped around her waist beneath the blanket, lifted it, rolled over to her side, and again let his arm be wrapped around her waist. This was how she’d always loved to sleep with him: she’d turn her back to him and he’d take the cue and cuddle her from behind with a light arm across her waist beneath the blanket and a soft kiss right behind her ear that would make her hum and snuggle deeper into his embrace until they’d look like two spoons in a drawer, very tight against each other. 

As she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, hoping to raise up to a promising morning that would bring with it her sketchbook, she could swear she saw the vague afterimage of the sketchbook in her eyes, but then she opened her eyes and only saw the darkness of the bedroom...

She didn’t own a lot of things, really. The only things she owned and loved so much were that sketchbook and her marriage ring. The engagement ring was as if glued to her finger ever since she had worn it years ago. As for the sketchbook, she had always made sure to keep it within her hand reach, though this time around it oddly disappeared! 

It was the very first purchase she made solely for herself when she started to receive a regular paycheck after working formally for the FBI. At first she didn’t know what to do with such a decent amount of money since she’d already been provided with a place to stay in, clothes, a cell phone and food—usually her detail had dropped food at her place without even asking for anything back, which made her really embarrassed.

It could be the crack of dawn or early morning when Jane fluttered her eyes open the next day, and after a long moment of gazing at Kurt’s sleeping face, she gave him a soft kiss on the temple then eased herself out of bed. With her eyes half closed, she managed to step the few paces toward the bathroom, rinsed her face in the sink, brushed her teeth and finally put on a comfy sweater she gripped from the hanger. 

Yawing, she stumbled across the front room that was messy with boxes they hadn’t even bothered to flatten or push away last night, until she made it into the kitchen. There she stood in the center, stretched her neck, and yawned some more with her eyes pressed close. When she reopened her eyes, the sight of a can of cocoa shoved in the far corner suddenly inspired her. And so, as if drawn by a magnet, she stepped toward the refrigerator, opened it and examined its contents, though there wasn’t much to see. There was random stuff and among them was a brand-new bottle of milk, which she only needed to fix a cup of hot cocoa for now.

She took it out then brought up a pan. There she poured some of the milk, dissolved cocoa powder, and finally put it on the stove to simmer. Standing with folded arms in the dim lighting in the kitchen, she stared down at the pan as the milk boiled within it, and after a full minute of waiting, small curls of steam rose into the air and the scents of cocoa powered revolved all around her, to which she felt torn between wanting to savour it immediately or just stand there and inhale it. But she awaited a bit more. Next she poured everything into an oversized cup with a faint smile. 

Warming her fingers with the cup, she made her way to the dining table, then settled on a seat there as she began taking small sips of the hot cocoa before it had even cooled off, to which it took her by surprise at first at how hot it was, scalding even. 

During such times, when she woke earlier than she would and was by herself, she would bring up her sketchbook and sketch on it whatever she was feeling at the given moment. It was the perfect timing and place to do so; her thoughts would emerge so originally in the early mornings, they wouldn’t be conflicted nor affected by the day’s activities just yet. 

She hadn’t known how good she was at sketching until one day she held a pencil, a very sharp one, and began sketching without any struggle. Back then, when solving her tattoos had been what her life was basically all about, she used to sketch them individually in hopes of finding any connection that might help figure out what they actually meant. But then as the days passed, she thought she wanted to do something else, something that was in a good way stirring her heart down to the depths, just like the way her spoon was stirring her cup of cocoa now.

And so, with her pencil sharp, she began with a light outline of a face, next she worked on the eyes, which she made them like the shape of almond. She let out a sigh then,  knowing that the eyes must be the toughest part, before continuing with them. She drew the first pupil, purposely making it darker than the eye, then did the same for the other eye. She added a little shading underneath the eyes and from there she started with the nose, extending two lines where the inner corners of each eye were located. 

The rest went easy: she did the eyebrows, the lips, the beard and then the hair, creating a solid and visible looking hairline from the sides of the head. 

It was Kurt’s face that she sketched and it looked impressive at the end. She made him look as if staring at her, and made his expression soft with a faint smile—the way he’d usually look at her. 

It was quiet around her now, not a single sound, until she heard running waters within the bathroom and, a minute later, she saw Kurt emerge and approach her. “Mornin,” he smiled, his face awash with decent sleep, his hair... so fluffy she couldn’t help but think it needed a trim, so badly.

“Mornin,” she replied. 

He bent down and stole his morning kiss from her then hummed. “You taste like a really good hot cocoa!”

“Because I was drinking one.” She told him, showing him her cup, almost empty by now. 

“Can I have the same?”

“Sure.” She got up and started doing the same thing she did earlier, taking the same measurements. 

“Did you sleep well, Jane?” He asked as she waited by the stove for the cocoa to simmer. “Yeah.”

“You don’t look like you slept well.” He claimed. 

“I slept well, Kurt. Now tell me, when is our ship  gonna get here?”

“Maybe after a bit.”

She served him his cocoa in a brand-new cup, and he took it with all smiles after thanking her. 

When their another set of boxes arrived, after some time, Jane tucked all of her hair back behind her ears and, kneeling down, she eagerly began looking thoroughly in each box along with Kurt. As she’d said before, the boxes contain kitchen supplies: dishes, cups, mixing bowls, knives and spoons, a cutting board, blender, vegetable peeler and a number of whisks. 

But even after all this effort, they couldn’t find it, Jane’s sketchbook, among all of those things. 

She stood up on her feet then, and took a deep breath, tired and disappointed, her palm wiping away the sweat on her forehead and her eyes, helplessly, maintained searching in the mess of boxes on the floor. 

“It’s alright, I’ll get you a new one, I promise.” Kurt tried to soothe her, to which she looked up at him and, shaking her head, she complained, “It’s not about getting a new one, Kurt. I need my old one back. It carries lots of memories and...” she trailed off with her head falling down, but after a moment of silence Kurt approached forward until he closed the gap between them and cupped her face in his hands, lifting it to his level. “We will be making new memories here. Beautiful ones.”

“I know, but...there’s just one drawing of you within the sketchbook that I just love so much and I want it back.”

“You have lots of pencils and papers here. You also have me here. I will sit still the whole day so that you can draw me, I really wouldn’t mind, you know me.” He suggested, to which she smiled the way one corner of her mouth tilted up whenever she felt affection for him, then chuckled. “You don’t have to. I can draw you easily without having to look at you.”

He grinned. “Right, because you’re the most talented person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s not wholly because I’m that talented though. I wouldn’t be able to do that with anyone else except for you, because I always have you in my head—this is how and why I drew you in the first place. I know your face very well—even more than my own, I would say—and I know how you would look from every angle.”

He pushed his lower lip out in an impressive pout, feeling awash with affection for her. “You know lots of things about me! Do you also wanna know what I know about you?” He asked, having already slipped both hands from her face down her neck, shoulders, and finally her waist. And before she could say anything in response, he was tickling her there. “I know how to make you laugh, and laugh, and laugh.”

She was laughing then, pleading him to stop it, squirming her body out of his arms, and calling his name aloud and repeatedly, but that was only for him to reward her with more stroking against her waist, the area where he knew was very sensitive for her. She tried to fight his firm grip around her, tried to push him away, tried to run away, but seconds later she was, almost instinctively, clutching into him hard, as if holding for her life, and kept laughing nonstop, like she never had in her whole life, head dropped back exposing her neck for him to bury his face there, mouth open to the fullest, and eyes squeezed. Her laughters rolled about the front room in the early morning, like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heart-warming as it moved around them in its chaotic way. It came in fits and bursts—loud to soft to nothing when she was gasping for breaths in-between, then back to loud again and so on.

Just like this, her previous, sad face was replaced with a happy and laughing one.

He really knew how to butter her up. Always had.

A/N: I don’t really support the idea of Jeller moving out of New York after canon. I love them to be there and I think it suits them perfectly to be New Yorkers. But I had to fake it only for this fic’s plot. So they’re still in New York in my head now, enjoying themselves...

[chibinoyume]

Season 1 Halloween

"I'm not sure I understand this whole Halloween thing... but you make a cute dog."

"... thanks."

@holidayblindspot

[lurkingwhump]

Fic Time

Hey guys!

Here’s my contribution to @holidayblindspot , and its fall theme. At first, I didn’t think I would write anything for this, as Halloween isn’t really my type of holiday (and I kind of hate it that they’ve imported it here just as a sales gimmick. I don’t have anything against Halloween per se, in the American culture where it is rooted in), but then @indelibleevidence suggested a general fall/autumn theme, and that woke my muse up. So, I wrote this, and @take2intotheshower was kind enough to beta for me again.

Just a bit of Jeller angst and TLC. I saw a prompt some time ago about the main character coming home absolutely soaked to the bone or being unconscious on the street in a downpour, and it stuck with me, so I filed it away for future use, and here you go. And this might have been also influenced by one of favorite X-Files scenes ever. I’m sure those of you who’ve watched TXF will quickly figure out the scene.

Anyhow, please let me know what you think.  

Stranded

Jane was pacing the living room. She glanced out to the balcony, a chilly early November rain was beating on the panes of the glass doors. It had been raining almost for three days straight, and it wasn’t supposed to clear up until tomorrow. The weather and darkness did nothing to improve her mood, only made the dread settle in further in her gut.

It was almost two days since they had last heard from Kurt. He had gone undercover with a militia cell, posing as an arms dealer, but he had missed his check-in time. At first Jane had told herself it was because he couldn’t steal away long enough to check in. She knew how it could be undercover. As time ticked further and further from the last scheduled check, she told herself his comms must have malfunctioned.  Finally, they had dispatched a strike team to the location, but there was no sign of the militia, or Kurt. “At least they didn’t find a body.”

She knew Kurt was far more than capable of holding his own, but she hated that he went undercover without her. It made her feel helpless, and to fear situations just like this. Not knowing where he was, if he was hurt, or even alive, was eating away at her. She was powerless to do anything. The FBI and the State Police were raiding the known locations of the militia, but so far they hadn’t found Kurt or the men he was supposed to be meeting. The team had sent her home from the NYO a couple of hours ago to get some rest, promising to call her as soon as they had anything. She was probably getting on their nerves, but the inactivity was driving her crazy. She had asked if she could join one of the teams in the field, but Reade had made the good point that she would reach Kurt faster from the NYO than if she was in the field, and so she stayed in SIOC, monitoring what happened.

Jane sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly. She could feel the beginnings of a headache looming, and realized it must be dehydration. She’d managed to eat a salad at the NYO at Rich’s prodding but she’d hardly drunk anything. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water, draining it in one go.

Hearing a faint knock at the door, she stamped down on the worst-case scenarios in her head. It could not be the State Police or someone from the NYO letting her know they had found Kurt’s body. “The team would let you know if they heard something.” She leaned her forehead against the door before gathering herself and opening it.

“Kurt!”

Her momentary elation was eclipsed by worry, as her husband practically collapsed against her, his larger frame nearly dead weight in her arms.

Her name escaped him, sounding like something between a groan and a plea.

Supporting his weight, Jane noticed he was soaked to the bone and shivering. He had a darkening bruise on his cheekbone, partially covered by the rough stubble. Steering him inside and nudging the door shut, she spoke quietly to him. “Let’s get this jacket off you.”

Removing the sodden article of clothing, she tossed it onto the barstool while supporting him. She brushed his cheek tenderly to wipe off some of the dirt stuck there, her alarm only growing when she noticed the heat radiating off his skin. “You’re burning up!” She took in his disheveled appearance, noticing various nicks and cuts covering his face and neck, the exhaustion in his slightly slumped posture. “Kurt, what happened?”

“My cover was blown.” He glanced at her before refocusing his attention on the balcony. ”They somehow found out I was FBI.”

His revelation made her blood turn cold. It was the worst-case scenario of any undercover operation.

“I managed to escape into the woods, but they almost caught me more than once.”

Kurt managed to take a couple of faltering steps toward the couch, clearly intending to sit down.

“No, no.” Jane grabbed his arm, speaking tenderly to him and pulling him close to her again. “Let’s get you to bed. You need to rest, and we need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

He protested, scanning his surroundings as he let her lead him into the bedroom. “No, I can’t. I need to stay alert. They were able to track me almost the entire time that I was on the move, Jane.”

She could feel the exhaustion in his body. Despite his protests, he was leaning heavily on her as they made their way to the bedroom. It was almost like hyper-vigilance and exhaustion were waging a battle in his body and his brain.

She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand she was holding, hoping to calm him. “I’ll send the team a message, let them know you’re here and ask Reade to post a detail out. Okay?”

He mumbled something unintelligible in reply. The dampness of his button-down shirt seeped into her clothes, and with every step Jane’s concern grew. His clothes were dirty and sodden, telling their own sad story of the ordeal Kurt had lived through.

She guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, caressing his stubbly cheek for a moment, needing to reassure herself that he was there. He merely sat there: his eyes were glazed with fever, his shoulders slumped but tense. She could see the tremors in his body. “Need to get his temperature down.”

Jane pressed her lips against his forehead lightly. “Take the wet clothes off, I’ll get you something dry to put on.”

As she went to Kurt’s dresser to get him a dry pair of sweatpants to wear, she sent a message to the team, just as she promised. Kurt was still sitting on the bed, wearily pulling his jeans off. She heard him wince as he removed his shirt, and the reason for the sharp intake of breath became apparent as she rounded the bed: his side and his torso were covered in gruesome black and reddish bruises, no doubt hiding some broken ribs. Her heart broke at the sight. Those thugs had hurt him, they had beaten him badly before he had gotten away. Then he had spent almost a day exposed to the elements, with the militia chasing him. She could see him out there, injured and freezing as he tried to put distance between himself and his pursuers. She swallowed thickly, the anxiety tearing at her soul. “Oh, Kurt.”

“Here, put these on.” She gave him the article of clothing before going to the bathroom to fill a glass of water and get a painkiller for him. She also grabbed the washcloth, quickly wetting it under the sink, hoping it would ease his discomfort once she got him settled.

He dutifully pulled the sweatpants on, but his eyes kept scanning the darkness beyond the windows, and he was about to get up, just as Jane returned.

She put the glass on the bedside table, placing her hand on his shoulder, carefully stopping his movement. “Hey…no, no, no. Where are you going?” She inquired in a worried tone.

“I told you, the mil­–.“ His over-exhausted mind began to answer, before she interrupted him softly.

“Kurt, you’re home. You’re safe.” She told him, giving him an affectionate look as she guided him to lie down and sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

“But th–“ he argued tiredly.

Jane shook her head, feeling almost physical pain in her chest seeing him like this. “They can’t get to you.” She caressed his bruised cheek tenderly. “Everything’s okay.”

She passed him the glass and the painkiller. “Take this, it’ll help you feel better.”

He took the medicine and sank back into the pillow, a weary sigh escaping him. His exhaustion was starting to win, but his eyes still held an anxious look.

“Shh…it’s okay.” She soothed him as she gingerly wiped some of the dirt off his face with the corner of the washcloth before placing it on his brow. “Right now, you need to rest.”

Kurt closed his eyes, finally giving in.

“It’s okay.” Jane whispered as she kept running her hand through his hair. “Just rest.”

Soon, his breathing evened as her tender touch lulled him to sleep. They had survived another close call, and she had Kurt safely by her side again.

[giorgiaink]

Patterson, Rich and Boston + under the rain

One of @holidayblindspot prompts is winter weather so I remembered some time ago someone asked me to draw them being caught in a sudden downpour and this is the result.

I imagined this starting with a fight because Rich was supposed to brought umbrellas for everyone but he only took a little one and it was obviously insufficient so he just walked in the rain and started making a scene but then couldn't help but making some jokes about how they should've taken advantage of the situation and just kiss under the rain like they were in some romantic movie. Then things just escalated into dancing under the rain

[idealisticrealism]

Valentine’s Day

Here’s a little ficlet for @holidayblindspot because @chibinoyume asked nicely haha.

Be aware: I have no control over what the muse comes up with. You’ve been warned.

~

“Jane.”

Weller’s voice was soft, a warm whisper that drifted through the haze of sleep, drawing her gently up from where she’d been dozing, wrapped in the softness and warmth of his bed.

“Jane,” he murmured again, the sound close by her ear this time, delicious shivers trailing in his wake as he brushed those soft lips over the bare skin of her neck and shoulder. The smile was already blooming across her face before she’d even fully opened her eyes, slow and lazy and utterly contented, a feeling which only grew stronger as her gaze met his.

There was a magic in the way that he looked at her, more love contained in that clear blue than she’d ever known was possible. It used to scare her, used to make her feel like something so wonderful could never be hers for long, like every breath was bringing her closer to the moment when it would all be taken away.

But with every touch, every kiss, every whispered I love you, he’d taught her not to be afraid.

Because he was hers, and she was his— and that was something that no one could ever change.

“Kurt,” she sighed at last, her eyes reflecting all that was in his, her fingers stroking lightly over his stubbled cheek, his jaw, his lips.

“Good morning,” he told her softly, pressing a tiny kiss to the tips of her fingers before catching them in his, turning her hand to brush his lips warmly over her palm. Then, he tugged lightly on her wrist, drawing her arm around his neck, releasing his grip to instead smooth his hand over her hip, his arm curving around her and pulling her body against his.

Her smile had only a second to widen into a grin before his lips were on hers, the kiss sweet and unhurried, basking in the rare moment of peace. After a little while, though, it was her who pressed closer, her mouth needy and insistent— and he was all to happy to comply, his tongue warm and teasing against hers, his hands stroking up and down the length of her back as they lost themselves in each other.

Eventually, she made herself pull away, their lips meeting again in a handful of soft little kisses before she managed to draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, her palm resting against his cheek.

“Good morning,” she answered finally, then giggled as he raised an eyebrow at her belated response, as if he’d played no part whatsoever in causing the delay.

”I have something for you,” he told her suddenly, his tone low and eager, his body immediately shifting away to lean over the side of the bed. As she watched with wide eyes, he straightened, lifting a wrapped box a little bigger than a shoebox and putting it on the bed between them.

Pushing it towards her a little, he smiled shyly, a tenderness to his voice that made her throat feel tight. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jane.”

“Kurt,” she breathed, eyes prickling as she stared down at it. Somehow, even with the ZIP, she was sure no one had ever given her a Valentine’s gift before.  “Thank you.”

“Open it,” he encouraged gently, and so she sat up, leaning against the headboard as she pulled the box towards her with trembling hands. It was beautiful, clearly wrapped with care, a perfect red bow holding the lid closed. It was heavier than she’d expected, and she glanced at him with raised eyebrows as she reached for the ribbon, but he just smiled up at her, catching her fingers and pressing a quick kiss to them before letting her pull the bow free.

A glow of warmth and excitement filled her as she slowly drew the lid off the top, her eyes flicking to his just before she lifted the lid away and looked inside.

And froze, uncertainty and confusion washing through her, her eyes locked on what lay inside, nestled innocently in soft creamy tissue paper:

Heavy iron chains, with rough, rusted manacles at each end.

“Do you like them?” Weller asked, his voice still low and seductive, but his eyes gone hard and cold. “I can’t wait to see them on you.”

Then, his hand shot out and clamped painfully around her wrist, his face twisting in hatred and rage, his tone turning vicious. “I hope you never take them off.”

With a choked cry, Jane jerked back-- and jerked sharply into consciousness, her aching body scrabbling over the cold concrete until her back hit the rough cinderblocks of the wall, her breathing rapid and her body shaking like a leaf.

The manacles were gone, as was the soft bed.

And so was Weller.

Swallowing back the rough, painful sobs that rose in her throat, Jane drew her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and letting her forehead fall onto her knees, the tears running silently down her dirty cheeks.

It had just been a nightmare, and now it was over. It couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Except she’d simply woken from one nightmare into another.

And this one would hurt.

Only a couple of minutes later, she heard the cell door creak open, felt his presence in the doorway even before he spoke.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jane,” Keaton said cheerily, and as she raised her blurred, burning eyes, she could see something in his hand, something that glinted in the flickering light, something with sharp edges that she knew were just waiting to meet her skin.

Seeing her looking at it, Keaton grinned and held it up to the light, his smile just as sharp, and just as cold.

“Told you I’d bring you something special.”

~

[blindspot-repata]

Christmas morning - Jeller

It is my third post of @holidayblindspot

Thanks @indelibleevidence for this challenge!

It was Christmas morning, and Jane found him standing by the door looking at the snow that covered everything around the cabin where they were hiding. Last night they all supped together and toasted wishing their loved ones were well and protected, and that Madeline would never use them for any kind of threat to them.

“A penny for your thoughts!” Jane wrapped her arm around her husband's, snuggling against him.

“It was thinking about Bethany and everything that has happened ...”

“Ah! I miss that sweet little girl too! And thinking about it I have a gift for you.” Jane reached into the pocket from which she pulled out her cell phone.

“Which is?” Kurt turned to her with a curious, smiling look.

Jane turned on her cell fone and opened a video showing Bethany running into Kurt's arms. He lifted her up in the air as the little girl screamed with joy. Jane made this one-day shoot at the zoo and Bethany enjoyed every minute with them. The video lasted about a minute and a half and at the end the little girl looked into her father's eyes and said "I love you, Daddy".

“Where did you get that?” Kurt asked with tears streaming down his face.

“I asked Patterson to raid my old account anonymously and redeem some videos to make you feel a little closer to her.”

“Thank you, you don't exist!” Kurt hugged his wife, breathing in her scent. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

“ Not so far.”

Kurt kissed her tenderly knowing that he had chosen the right person to spend the rest of his life with.

“How about if we go back to the room? It is still early, it is cold and they are all sleeping.” Kurt invited her to the woman in his life.

They went back to their room and spent the rest of the morning between naps and vows of love.