Hey guys!

Jesus its been a long time, its been a crazy time for me, my grandmother passed away in November, which absolutely broke me. She never got to see me graduate from nursing school in December, and I never got to tell her how much she meant to me. It's been rough with her being sick before that, finishing up school and other issues for me to write. But I finally decided a few nights ago that I needed to finish what I started.

So, this chapter is the beginning of the end of this story or it is if you want it to be! AS always, I love the snot out of you guys and the reviews are the reason I keep going!

Love,

Fallen

P.S. As always, a shout out to my amazing beta reader Mara Blackwolf (SpiritQuartz on FF and AO3)!

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Reade was in a fog as he walked into work; he hadn't been able to sleep the previous night, between Tasha's latest "help" with the Jones case and Jane. His brain had been on overdrive, trying to think of the all the different ways he'd failed, all the problems he had to solve. But, no grand solutions had arisen; instead he'd just stared at his ceiling all night praying for an answer.

At least he had finally had a chance to say something to Jane. To offer some apology, no matter how pitiful, to her. Maybe even to begin to bridge the gap between them! He wanted so desperately to prove that he had something to give her, that he could help her somehow. His entire life had been dedicated to fixing and solving and improving.

But these days he wondered if he could help anyone.

"Reade?" Kurt's voice broke him out of his thoughts, "Have you seen Jane?"

The words felt like ice water, cold and sharp against his soul, "No, isn't she here already?" He couldn't think of a single day since she'd come back to them that she hadn't been waiting for them all in the office- usually segregated in a corner, quiet, watchful and jumpy. The first one to arrive and the last one to leave every day without fail. His eye darted around the bullpen, searching for her, as if someone had merely overlooked her. He would find her, of course he would.

But he didn't; instead he saw Patterson, who looked even paler than normal biting her lip as she talked with Tasha and Nas.

"Have you contacted her detail?" He asked, dread already sitting heavy in his stomach. Jane wouldn't have just left; she would have told them Sandstorm had contacted her. She always told Weller and Nas, though whether she called or texted seemed to depend on her mood. Lately, it had always been texts; Reade had noticed how with each mission Jane seemed to return darker and darker- wearier and more brittle. As if some part of her died on those missions, and he again wondered what kind of monsters they were to send her into that snake pit.

Kurt's voice again brought him back to the present, "Yes, last night seemed like a normal night, Jane got back from the baby shower and entered her apartment. Some lights went on and off, and things were quiet. But this morning she gave no indication that she'd woken up, and when they knocked no one responded. I told them to wait to breach the apartment until we got there, we all know how Jane is about strangers."

"What do you mean? She loves her detail," he asked. In fact, the only time he'd seen her smile or laugh in the last few months had been the few times he caught her coming into or leaving the building with the men. Yet, how much pain had that shower caused Jane? People who Jane loved treating her like filth, gushing over the prospect of a baby who had been conceived by the man she clearly loved while she was being electrocuted, beaten or water boarded. The only family Jane had, who she couldn't even trust to tell about the baby she had hidden in her own belly.

The thought made Reade's stomach twist uncomfortably, and for a moment he feared he would either vomit or cry.

Kurt shrugged, "They had a last-minute change in detail, the guys who normally hang around at the office during the day watched her last night."

Reade immediately stopped listening. Kurt seemed completely oblivious, but at least he hadn't let them go inside her house. He walked past Kurt and headed towards the others, immediately zoning in on Patterson, "Have you been able to trace her cell phone?"

"It's currently turned off, but it last pinged inside her apartment," Patterson replied, her voice quivering, and her eyes watered as her gaze skittered from his face to the floor. "I know she keeps a burner for missions with Sandstorm, but I haven't been able to get a trace on it to see if she has it on her."

He wanted to scream as again the hatred boiled up inside him, he'd only just promised himself to keep her safe. How could he do that if she just kept disappearing? The fact that only he and Patterson, out of their entire family seemed to grasp the horror of the situation made it even worse.

"Reade, Tasha, we're going to head to Jane's apartment, see if there's anything there that could help us find her. Nas, Patterson keep working on trying to trace those phones and see if we can get a hold of her. Maybe she just fell asleep and forgot to plug her phone in."

Reade scoffed, shook his head and started for the elevator. "That'd be a first. She hasn't looked like she slept a night since she's been back." Even Kurt didn't sound convinced, though he didn't respond to Reade's barb. All of them knew something had happened. Whether that something happened to be related to Sandstorm or not was the only thing that mattered. Either way Jane would likely come back worse off than she left.

She always did.

The ride down the elevator went by in silence, as did the walk to the garage and the drive to Jane's house. A strange, heavy, tension filled the air and none of them seemed willing to break it. Not that Reade complained, the tight line he'd been walking seemed ready to snap beneath him. The anger that had bubbled up since Jones, since Jane, since Freddy… all of it felt ready to choke him beneath its weight.

God, he used to feel so put together. So, collected. But now he felt ready to snap. Like a bomb two seconds from going off. He wanted to shout and tear and hit, he wanted to break things and force the people he'd always had such respect and admiration for to act like decent humans.

As they pulled up to Jane's safe house, Reade forced himself to take three deep breaths. He needed to be able to look at this scene without the haze of anger clouding his thoughts. He wouldn't fail her again. He couldn't.

They got out of the car in sync and met up with the detail who'd been waiting on her stoop for them. They exchanged the standard questions, but it seemed as if they had noticed nothing. Granted, if Jane had wanted to leave without anyone noticing it wouldn't be hard for her. She did it often with Sandstorm stuff, they would never notice her.

Thankfully Kurt ended the conversation quickly, dismissing the detail after they handed over the master key to the safe house. With that Kurt knocked loudly on the door, calling Jane's name, before opening the door with his gun drawn.

They were greeted by silence and darkness as they entered the safe house. Kurt flicked on a light as he repeated his call for Jane as they all streamed in. Reade went up the stairs as Kurt headed up the small hallway into the kitchen and Zapata headed into the living room area. As he walked up the stairs he noticed what must have been a mirror facing the landing, covered in a black sheet. He paused for a second, forcing himself to push away the thoughts that flooded him at the sight and the goose bumps that covered his skin, before he continued to the left toward the bedroom.

As he made his way down the hall he noted how barren it looked; before her apartment had been covered in knick knacks & goofy art work the girls had picked up on their various adventures around New York, but now all the walls stood stark and empty before him. He paused midway down the hallway to open a door, gun ready, but inside only revealed two towels and an unopened pack of toilet paper. Satisfied, he closed the door and made his way to the door at the end of the hall.

Jane's bedroom, as he knew from the schematics that on the right of the landing lay the bathroom, and the left her bedroom. When he reached the door, he gently pushed it open, gun ready as always, but quickly lowered when he took in the emptiness.

His mind felt blank; before him stood the loneliest looking room he'd ever seen. Again, three objects he assumed to be mirrors were covered with thick black sheets and the bed had been made to perfect military standards.

He half-heartedly looked under her pillows and stopped, tears clogging his throat, when he saw a soft, fuzzy baby quilt- clearly hand-made, patches of varying patterns and colors haphazardly hand-sewn together. Their Jane was about as domestic as a feral coyote, but she had clearly spent several of her sleepless hours in this barren living space trying to create something warm and loving for her baby. Reade picked up the blanket reverently, cuddling it in his arms and wishing he could just hug Jane.

The tables beside the bed were barren, except for a single photo of the team together before everything went to hell, one small sketch book and a pencil.

He hesitated but he walked forward and flipped open the book.

Regret and anguish hit him as he took in the sketch before him. A picture of Jane -at least that's what his mind imagined- lay before him. But unlike the usual, Snow White like beauty he saw, this version looked wretched. Emaciated, skin drawn so tight that bones were visible, bruises and scars marred every inch of naked flesh; some were clearly handprints and his stomach rolled thinking of what horror had put those marks on her body. But even worse were the eyes; draw sewn shut, as was the mouth - her ears were the only thing left unobstructed. The background was shaded darkly, words etched so deeply into the page he wondered that the pencil hadn't broken through surrounded Jane's image and were written on her. Words so horrible he didn't want to have to see them.

Foot steps coming up the stairs tore his eyes from the sight, and without thinking he picked up the small sketchbook and shoved it into one of his pockets. He didn't want the others to see this, he knew Jane wouldn't have wanted him to see it, and he wanted to do something for her even more now that they had invaded her privacy.

"Find anything up here?" Tasha's voice called down the hall, getting closer as she made her way towards him. Something about her voice sounded off, and he immediately walked out to meet her. He'd been disappointed in her behavior the other day, but then he'd been disappointed in his own. She would always be his best friend.

He forced himself to sound normal. "Nothing of use, just a lot of covered mirrors and emptiness, but I haven't looked in the bathroom yet. You find anything?"

The look in her eyes told him they had. "Nothing that will help us find her. Did you know Jane painted?" The sudden direction change threw him for a loop, but when he caught up he felt another stab of dread. He'd seen just one sketch, he didn't want to imagine what Jane might have painted and the purloined sketchbook felt heavy in his pocket. But he shook his head at Tasha; he'd always known Jane sketched but he'd never seen her do anything else.

She nodded, eyes unfocused, "Me neither."

He waited for her to continue but she didn't. Instead she turned around, "Let's check out the bathroom."

"Okay, you sure you're alright Tasha?" He asked as they moved in sync towards the bathroom. She said nothing, a slight hitch in her step the only indication that she had heard him. He wanted to press, but before he could she'd reached the bathroom door and pushed it open.

In front of him, lay a normal bathroom… or at least it would have been being it not for the shattered mirror before them. He thought he saw dried blood crusted on some of the spidery shards occupying the space, sending back fractured reflections of Tasha and him where they stood. He watched as Tasha reached a hand up to touch the mirror, her fingers flittering over the edges of the pieces.

"You were right, ya know?" She asked, "We shouldn't have done what we did when she got back. I've known for a while now that we were wrong to do it, but I didn't want to confront that. Didn't want to admit I've been a monster. But being here, see the way she's been living makes it hard to ignore, doesn't it?"

Again, he wanted to ask her if she was okay, but he stayed silent. He could tell she didn't want an answer; whatever she'd seen downstairs, or whatever conflict she faced inside herself she just needed to get the words out.

"When did you find out?" She asked him, her hand leaving the mirror as she turned to face him, the same hand going to pull a small image out of her pocket, "Recently I'm guessing? I've noticed you've been being different around her."

He stared at the black and white image before him; if he hadn't have been to a few prenatal appointments he never would have recognized it for what it was. But he did, and his hands reached out without his permission to grasp the small picture. He pulled it towards him, almost possessively, his eyes taking in the grainy image on the paper.

It was impossible to explain, but that little picture that barely looked human…that was a baby- Jane's baby- and without even seeing his face, Reade knew that he loved that baby. He couldn't even imagine how much Jane much loved that child, and she hadn't even been able to talk about it. The team was her family, for all intents and purposes- she had no parents, no aunts and nobody she could safely even talk to.

Somehow, this made it real; Jane would be a mother soon. Jane had been raped by the CIA, and now the FBI abused her in its own way. Turned her into a pawn, a piece they had little to no intentions of protecting or looking out for. One he imagined most people wanted to die along with Sandstorm.

People he knew, people he respected, had no interest at all in keeping the baby in this grainy picture alive. They wouldn't lose any sleep if that tiny person who Jane loved- her only real family- never lived to take a single breath.

"Where?"

"She had it taped to the fridge," Tasha replied, "You still haven't answered my question, Reade."

He tore his eyes away from the paper and forced himself to look at her, "I overheard her talking to Patterson about it a week or two ago. Didn't take much to piece it together from there, and then all I could do was hate myself."

She just nodded, "Kurt called for a forensics team to come check the place out, but right now it looks like Jane left of her own free will. We have to go back to headquarters. Kurt wants to have a meeting with everyone."

Again, the abrupt topic change threw him off, but he knew that, like him, Tasha compartmentalized. Right now, he could imagine she had a lot to push away if she were going to be able to do her job. As they headed down the stairs they met up with Kurt, and from the look of him Reade could tell that he knew. Their eyes met, and something passed between them.

In that moment there was no doubt that Kurt was aware that Reade had known- and kept it from the others.

It surprised him when Kurt just opened the front door and headed to the SUV without saying a word. Something in his expression was different than normal, as if something inside him had been kicked loose and he was holding it all together by a thread.

This was a feeling he knew all too well, and a look he'd come to recognize in the mirror each morning. Drowning people always recognized other drowning people. There was an eerie familiarity about the way a person held themselves when they were just barely treading water.

As he shut the door behind them, some part of him wanted to go back in and see what had rattled Tasha so badly. To look upon the paintings that must have littered the lower level, but he had seen enough. Jane hadn't wanted them to see anything in there. Like the dark things that happened to her, she had kept them hidden away from all of them. He tried not to think about how much they had just violated her trust by doing what they'd done. No matter why they'd done it.

Especially as it looked more and more like she'd been called away by Sandstorm.

The steady beeping of machinery drew her from the darkness of unconsciousness. Immediately pain hit her; a steady throbbing from her head alerting her to a possible concussion, numerous aches from her face to her legs indicating bruising, and then pain in her rib cage.

Drowsily she imagined that she'd cracked some ribs, and oh, how she hated rib injuries. The pain made her want to curl back up and hide away in the darkness. It had been so long since she closed her eyes and only found darkness. Usually nightmares or memories plagued her, keeping her from ever truly resting, and she wanted to relish the absence, this one time where he wasn't there behind her eyelids.

But as her mind cleared, she knew that she could do no such thing, and instead she forced herself to open her eyes. Blinking rapidly at the bright lights all around her, as her vision cleared she noticed two things. One: she was without a doubt in a hospital bed, and two: before her lay Roman and…Rich Dot Com?

"Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty herself, back from the dead I see?" Rich's teasing voice drew her eyes to him, and she felt a small smile touch her lips. She ignored the small tinge of pain the action caused, the bruises from the fighting still unhealed…wait.

Her mind halted as she realized she was in a hospital bed. Why? Panic hit her like a freight train, as she jerked up, ignoring the trilling of the machines as her heart rate sky rocketed. Memories hitting her as she remembered the mission, and the bullet that tore through her.

Suddenly none of the pain mattered, as her hands clenched her abdomen and fear like nothing she'd known before dug its fingers into her. Her breath started to come in great, loud, gasps, each movement stabbing as her ribs protested.

"Jane, please look at me," two voices spoke at once, disorienting her further as she tried to get the words out of her mouth. Panic made it impossible, black spots danced in her vision as she tried to think what had happened. Tried to make her mind tell her what she so desperately wanted to know.

Then a warm, calloused hand fell atop hers, at the same time another settled on her shoulder, but the hands, she knew them. Her body calmed ever so slightly as their warmth bled into her. "Jane, your baby is fine; they've been running tests all night. You're okay, you're both okay, Rich and I made sure of that. So, Jane, I need you to look at me and breathe with me."

Her eyes darted around the room a few more times before she could force them to settle on the face swimming before her. Her eyes locked with his, and she couldn't look away. "That's right, now Jane, take a few breaths for me, you being upset isn't good for my niece or nephew, okay?"

She felt herself nod, and she tried so hard to match her breath to his. But it felt so much harder than she thought, the panic still gripping her tight in its grasp. Even though she heard the words, her brain refused to understand them, refused to accept that things for now were alright.

It felt like hours before she finally calmed down. Before her breath stilled and her heart slowed to a more normal rate. By then her mind had calmed, and she had started to piece together her wall. Her baby would be okay. Her baby would be okay. She repeated it like a mantra.

She repeated it until she believed it.

With one long sigh, she closed her eyes and let herself fall forward to rest against her brother's shoulder, "Did Rich tell you?" she asked quietly. Now that the panic subsided, she needed answers and for the moment her child was safe. She had to focus on the other things. The terrible realities of her life, one of them being the relationship with her brother.

"No, you did, right after you were shot. You kept saying two things, call Rich and save my baby," Roman responded, his deep voice rumbling through her, "It didn't take a genius to figure it out."

"Lucky, he called me too," Rich chimed in, "You lost a lot of blood there my little doe, and if it weren't for my reserves we might not have had enough to save you." By the end something serious had taken over his tone, and Jane didn't have to raise her head to know his brown eyes were dark and serious. Rich Dot Com was a lot of things, but underneath all his bluster he cared deeply, like no one she'd ever known. His greatest weakness and his greatest virtue in one.

Another thought seized her, "Have you called Shepherd? Fuck, I didn't tell the team I was leaving, how long has it been?" It had already been a full day since she left, she didn't know how long she'd been out. God, when she got back they would be at her fucking throat. She almost didn't want to picture their reactions.

Though, on the other hand, maybe Tasha would be so happy that Jane had been shot that she'd just revel in that instead of trying to make Jane more miserable.

Silver linings and all that.

"Yes, I called mother, she told me to have you back in fighting order tonight," Something about the way he said it caused her to push away from him, she wanted to look him in the eyes as he continued, "Whatever she'd planning goes down tomorrow Jane. So, I think it's time you cut the bullshit and told me where you really stand. I can forgive you for hiding them from me, but if you lie to me now Jane, I can't make the same promise."

A different type of fear hit her then, the fear of her brother's reaction and the fear that he might abandon her. The only real person aside from Rich and Patterson who cared about her. Maybe the only person in her whole life who loved her. She couldn't lose him but either way she looked at it, it seemed she would. If she lied, he would know, but if she told the truth he would hate her. How could he not? He'd always been so faithful to the cause-a cause she had dragged him into- and what would he do?

Abandon it for her? Help her over throw their mother? No, she couldn't see either of those things happening. She imagined him turning his back on her and she couldn't even bear the thought of it. But still, she couldn't lie to him. Not anymore, she was so sick of all the lies. The constant charade she had to put up, and the fabrications, prevarications and half-truths, both little and enormous that made up her every day life.

She was a mother now, responsible to another loving, innocent life- a child like Roman, perhaps- like Ian had been- and Jane had no intention of setting that poor new life into the morass of untruth that they had been drowning in. For Roman, for Ian- she had to make a, safe, honest life for her baby. That child had already survived more than they should have had to; sired by a monster in hell on earth. The first sounds he heard of his mother's voice hadn't been lullabies, they had been screams, moans and tears.

She decided, forcing herself to straighten despite the dizziness that hit her, and forced herself to look him in the eye. "Roman, I…" She paused, trying to find the words inside herself, "I-I'm not a double agent working against the FBI. I'm a double agent working against Sandstorm, and I'm trying my hardest to take our mother down before her final plan is realized. I want to stop her before people- innocent people- get hurt, and before she gains the power she's always been after. I never wanted to lie to you, please believe me, but I have to do this."

She wanted to go on, but the look in his eyes stopped her. After all, what else could she possibly say? Her eyes dropped to her hands where her long, pale fingers were clenching the blanket so hard her knuckles had turned white.

"Re-Jane, why didn't you tell me?" Roman asked, something broken in his voice, and that made her heart break into a million more pieces. God, why did everything she do have to ruin things?

"At first, I didn't know you Roman," she whispered, her eyes again drifting away from his in shame, "because of the ZIP I didn't even know myself, but then, how could I? You're so loyal to the cause, to Shepherd; I couldn't ask you to betray that for me. I dragged you into this hideous world when I was Remi, but Roman... I was wrong and I am so, so sorry. The deal I made with the FBI guaranteed your freedom, and money enough to do whatever you wanted once it was all over. I knew even then that you would hate me, but I wanted you to be free. We've never really been free…" Her voice trailed off.

Silence stretched between them. Each second sent another shard of pain slicing through her heart. She'd known this would happen, but the reality hurt more than the fantasy. She wanted her brother beside her, she wanted her child to grow up with Roman orbiting them- to be a family- but now she feared that would never happen. Just another punishment from the Gods for her misdeeds.

She wondered when they would decide she'd been punished enough.

Wetness trailed down her cheeks, and she realized with a start she'd begun to cry. One of her hands, trembling as it went, reached up to brush the tears away. She hated crying, and they'd been trained to despise weakness. Tears would do her no favors here; although Rich might be affected by them, she didn't need him to be anymore invested right now. As with everything Rich did, he went all in from the start, and never looked back.

But then, a hand grasped her chin and lifted her head, her eyes immediately met her brother's, "Jane, please don't cry."

His words only made the tears come faster, as if some dam inside her broke. "Hormones," she managed to choke out.

That startled a laugh out of Rich, but all her attention remained on Roman. "Doesn't matter, Jane, you should have told me sooner. But, I don't know if I would have been ready to hear before. I'm ready now though." There was deep pain in his eyes when he looked at Jane, but the strength behind his eyes was new, vibrant and she couldn't look away.

"I'm ready to take down Shepherd, you're right. A lot of innocent people are going to die if her plan goes through and I don't want that anymore. I don't know, maybe I never did," this time he looked away from her, and she could hear the pain in his voice. Roman had always been deeply loyal, no matter how hard someone beat him. If they gave him an ounce of affection, he would burn the world to the ground for them. She couldn't imagine what those words cost him, what even the idea of turning against Shepherd did to him, even if he'd been having doubts. Doubts were different than action, and Jane knew the cost.

"Roman, don't do this for me, I understand if she has your loyalty-" Before she could say more he interrupted, his voice suddenly fiery.

"Don't, Jane. I made my choice last night while you bled out beside me," his voice shook with anger and something else, something indefinable, "I called her, and she… she didn't even care you'd been hurt. She's never cared how much we bled for her, while she sat in her ivory tower, and she's never cared how many people had to die to get what she wanted. If we were shot in front of her tomorrow, she wouldn't care at all unless the plan had been jeopardized. She's supposed to be our mother; do you remember what that's like?" Now the pain was evident in his voice, "I remember sometimes, our real mother, and I remember being happy. I was never afraid or in pain or worried what would happen if I disappointed her. But with Shepherd… that's all our lives have been. Pain, fear, worry, and terror in some shape or form."

All the fight seemed to die then, as if someone snuffed out his candle, and he looked at her, tears in his eyes, "I don't want to be a monster anymore, and you're the only person who's ever made me want to be better. I'll do anything for you, anything!"

She just cried harder, reaching forward to pull him towards her, ignoring the throbbing in her ribs and the protesting in her aching muscles to pull him to her chest. She rocked them, as Roman's silent tears wet the front of her gown, and her own tears streaked down her cheeks.

But now her tears were both sad and happy… also frightened, frustrated, exhausted and desperate. A reflection of the turbulence within her; exultation that her brother would choose her, grief that he'd been forced to choose against the only mother he really knew. Terror that she wouldn't be enough for him- he needed so much love, how long would it take him to heal? And so much self-reflection- was she as bad as Shepherd herself? Was she a just another person in Roman's life asking him to do things that he shouldn't have to do, using his idealistic nature to manipulate him? She didn't want to make him betray the very thing that had molded his life, didn't want to ask him to betray the people he'd fought with and bled with. Didn't want to ask him to potentially kill or maim people they'd known for years.

She didn't want to be their mother.

She didn't want to be the old Remi.

But she would. She knew that she had to, and she knew now that he would say yes. I'll do anything for you, kept ringing in her head like a bell. She would be better than Shepherd. She would be better than everyone in their lives who had beaten them, who had burned them, abused them and torn their blood from their bodies. She wouldn't betray his trust in her.

"Well, not to break up this touching moment, but we're on a time table here. Though it breaks my heart, we need to get down to business and figure out our next moves."

Rich's voice pulled her away from the darkness and back to reality. "You're right," she replied, forcing herself to release Roman and collect herself. Brushing away the last of the tears and digging her nails into her palms until she was certain she was under control. She allowed the pain to center her and forced herself to push away all her emotions and refocus.

"Roman, we need to fill you in on everything, and you can decide what kind of role you want to have in this. I'm not like Shepherd, I'm not going to move you like a pawn. You tell me what you can and won't do and we will work with that. Rich, do you have everything we need? I know Patterson got you the last of it recently."

Rich nodded, "Yes, our little blonde friend has been quite helpful; thanks to her I finished everything last night, and on a hunch, I brought it all with me. You know," he leaned in and stage-whispered, "I think she's a little sweet on me. I keep telling her my heart belongs to you, but you know how it is."

She nodded, the last pieces of her plan coming together, "The tracker will broadcast to the FBI as I asked?" Rich looked a little hurt that she completely ignored his come-ons, but she ignored it. He knew she didn't have the time or the energy for that kind of nonsense. Not that he didn't amuse her or lighten the mood, but he had after-all been the one to insist that they focus.

"Yes, Snow White, the seven surly dwarves will get all the information they need to get to where we need them tomorrow."

With that she felt a weight lift off her chest, and she proceeded to tell Roman the plan, every piece of the plot she'd hatched almost two months ago finally spoken aloud. All the technical pieces were assembled, now she needed to execute them. Everything would hinge on the meeting tonight with Shepherd, where she would have to pull herself together despite her injuries and act like Remi, and then tomorrow- where everything would either fail or succeed.

If they failed, she would never hold her child in her arms. If they succeeded she would finally be free. She would finally get to walk away!

It had been a full day since Jane had disappeared, and still none of them had heard from her. Reade had started to go a little crazy, and he wasn't the only one. Kurt had been pacing back and forth, going between Patterson's office and the bullpen, yelling at the agents running around or locking himself in his office.

Weller had taken the news of Jane's pregnancy as badly as Tasha. Reade knew from experience what they were going through. Running through every interaction they'd had with her since she'd come back and finding themselves lacking. Realizing that they were the villains in this story, and that they, like petulant children, had been taking their aggression out on a victim- a victim who never even fought back. On someone who needed to be protected, to be healed… and maybe to be saved. Someone that had been their family, their friend, and in Kurt's case, though it hurt to admit it, possibly the love of his life. No, Reade wouldn't want to be in their shoes. But he could tell that Patterson at least felt relief that the cat had gotten out of the bag without her having to say anything.

Though, unsurprisingly, the reaming out she'd gotten when they'd returned to headquarters and it had come to light that she'd known had been rather spectacular. But she'd shut them all down by saying exactly what Reade had thought all along, or rather shouting it. "Jane's had enough choices taken from her and she didn't want you to know! She didn't know how you'd use it against her."

"We'd never have done that," Zapata snapped, thought Reade gave her a disbelieving glance.

"Really? 'Cause I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what everyone here has said and done, and I can understand why she thought that."

Tasha looked chagrined, pained as she murmured, "I shot her when she came back. I was pissed, and I wanted her to hurt. I could have killed her baby."

Weller was turned to the window and his voice, though quiet, carried through the team. "We sent her into the hands of a sadist. We left her there for three months, and when she escaped- without help from anyone- we immediately forced her into another prison. No chains or physical abuse, but we just… filled that vacuum with mental and verbal abuse. Every suicide mission we pushed her into, every insult- we were targeting a pregnant rape victim. How did they even survive?"

"She betrayed us, Kurt. She broke the law. We had no way of knowing. She could have told us!" Zapata sounded fierce and determined, but there was a pleading note to her voice that made it sound like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

Weller continued on as if Tasha hadn't spoken. "The last report she turned in, it had this… little typo. And I snapped at her about it and she apologized just like always, but now I keep thinking…since she's been back, when we refused to listen to her apologies about what she did before, she started apologizing for everything else. Paperwork with a typo. Walking too close. Breathing too loud. Speaking out of turn. I can't think of anything she hasn't apologized for."

"Kurt-Weller, we all know that Jane signed up for this willingly," Nas's cold voice interrupted, "Frankly, the alternatives were working for us or going back to the CIA- who would have certainly found a way to hide any evidence of a child. If anything, we saved her, and she should be grateful for our help. She knew the risks, and she chose to take them."

Reade just stared at her, words crowding his brain so fast that he couldn't push them out of his mouth. Every time he thought that the woman in front of him would stop surprising him with her near psychopathic inability to empathize she found a new way. Who the fuck would say something like that?

It seemed like Kurt felt the same, he turned to look at his team and his face was creased with anguish and anger. "No, I broke her. What the CIA couldn't manage with months of torture, I did without a single touch. Of course, she didn't tell us. Even if she weren't pregnant we should never have sent her out to do those missions. She's supposed to be our asset, our friend, fuck our family, not some pawn to be sacrificed to the enemy."

He paused, his hands coming up to cover his mouth, "How could we have done this? What kind of leader am I to have allowed you to continue creating those suicide missions?" This time he looked directly at Nas, "What kind of person are you to think that we handle our people like that? I should have stopped you…" He trailed off, his eyes unfocused as he looked somewhere behind them.

Patterson bit her lip, seemly hesitant to speak after Kurt's outburst -which had Nas looking shell shocked to his left- finally opened her mouth, "Do you think there's any chance that Keaton knows? Could he be harassing her? I mean- how much has she been hiding? How much danger is she in?"

Those words seemed to spark something in all of them, himself included, none of them had ever thought of that. Which, given how close the CIA headquarters was and the fact that the CIA had never had any qualms about their desire to have Jane, made him feel like an idiot. The faces around the table reflected the same thoughts. Now they all moved as one, wondering if maybe it had been their own "allies" not their enemies had taken her.

That had certainly renewed their vigor in finding her. Sending all of them off to their areas to search and work even harder to bring her back home.

After that they'd all calmed down enough to talk about Jane's disappearance, and there had been a notable difference in everyone but Nas, who seemed to only care about the fact that a child might hinder Jane's ability to do her work. The dismissive tone, the disgusted twist of her lips when she had to mention the inconvenience of the pregnancy or Jane's "diminished skill set" … it made Reade want to hit her if he were being entirely honest, which probably wasn't a healthy response, but this woman truly brought it out in him. She simply had no ability to empathize, no desire to humanize Jane, and she made it clear with her actions that she'd rather the team demonized her as well. It was more than just not caring about Jane's pain; the motivation seemed a lot darker and more malevolent; Suddenly Nas seemed like she herself was a danger. The team seeing Jane as human again made them question Nas's actions as well as their own; something that would be detrimental for Nas's grand plan, Reade imagined. Even after Kurt all but called her out on it, she seemed unwilling to admit that what she'd done might have been wrong, instead she plowed forward. Only digging her own hole deeper and deeper, Reade hope she trapped herself in it.

Still he pushed away that thought and the niggling concern that accompanied it and continued to focus on the work in front of him. He would find Jane, and he would bring her home. Then all of them could fix what they'd broken and work to help their friend find her feet again!

But damned if he wouldn't be watching Nas a hell of a lot closer than he had before.

For hours it continued in the same way, the light fading away as darkness descended around them, and still all of them worked. Quitting time came and went and still they worked, but he knew now that he wasn't the only one trying to make up for his actions by doing this. All of them knew now, all of them had to face what he faced and all of them had work to do now.

They were pushing all their angles as hard as they could; Kurt and Tasha calling in all their favors with the CIA to see if they had taken Jane, he worked -rather reluctantly- with Nas to sift through all their information on Sandstorm to see if they could get some hint of what Jane might be up to. But so far all of them had come up with nothing, even Patterson locked in her glass office seemed unable to come up with anything.

He felt as if hope were fading away, and hopelessness replacing it.

It felt like a week had passed when Patterson suddenly rushed out her lab, "It's Jane, she's on the phone right now!"

Like a herd of wild elephants, they stampeded towards Patterson's office, and all of them at once speaking in a chaotic rush of words:

"Jane, where have you been?" Kurt practically shouted as he pushed into Patterson's office.

"What's the mission report?" Nas as always, didn't bother to pretend like she cared how Jane was, instead only asking about the mission. He wondered at the fact that it had never bothered him before. Some cruel part of his mind, he could see now, enjoyed how callous they had become to her after what they'd perceived she'd done to them. How wrong they'd been.

"Are you okay?" Tasha's voice, hardly even a whisper, seemed to be drowned out by Nas harsh voice, and Kurt's worried but authoritative voice. Still, Reade heard her, so she imagined with Patterson's technology that Jane would have as well.

"Never been so glad to hear your voice!" He wouldn't even be afraid to admit that he'd said that later. All he wanted or needed to know was that she and the baby were okay. The rest would come out, but for now that mattered to him more than anything.

A quiet huff of laughter sounded over the speaker, he noticed Patterson in tears at the sound, "A little disoriented, Shepherd sent Roman and I on an acquisition mission after someone turned on her and tried to steal a critical piece of technology for The Plan. I was hit but I'll be ready to finish the mission tomorrow and I won't be a hindrance to the team."

Reade watched, and felt the emotional shift at her words. First everyone but Nas immediately brightened, some imagined weight lifted from their shoulders at the sound of her voice and the assurance that she'd made it. But then the weight seemed to return, even heavier than before as they listened to her assurances that she wouldn't affect the mission. As if that were the thing that they cared about- and to be honest how could any of them fault her? Only Patterson -and very recently himself- had given her any indication that she mattered outside of her official capacity. Dear god, she said she'd been hit- Jane wouldn't have bothered mentioning an errant punch, that meant she'd taken a bullet and she didn't even bother giving the details.

She honestly believed they wanted her dead. What other explanation was there?

"We don't care about the mission Jane, we were worried about you," Kurt replied, a look Reade had never seen him make splayed across his face. Almost as if having to say the words hurt him, but not for their sake but because they had to be said at all.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, and her voice was both guarded and baffled, like this was some trick she hadn't quite figured out yet. "Why? Did you think I'd run away?"

Again, pain hit the group, this time Reade spoke up, "No Jane, we thought the CIA had taken you back or someone you'd run into before might have taken you. You didn't check in before you left, and we weren't sure what had happened."

"The mission came up so quickly, and everyone was busy with the shower. I didn't think I'd be gone long enough to cause anyone to worry. But that doesn't matter, I'm okay, and I have news. Big news."

Before anyone could respond Nas opened her mouth, "Big news? Perhaps that you've been hiding your pregnancy from us all? If I were the one in charge when you got back you'd be in cuffs, withholding that information put this whole mission in danger."

She looked like she was about to say more, and from the silence on the phone Jane had no idea what to say, though he (and he was certain at least Patterson as well) could hear tiny, muffled gasping, the sound of fear-induced hyperventilation. So, he jumped in, fists tightening as he stopped himself from strangling the woman, "Jane, Patterson and I have known, I found out a few weeks ago. It should have been your secret to tell or not to tell, but when you went missing we had to search your apartment-"

"And I am in charge here, and I promise you Jane- no handcuffs await you here. We shouldn't have allowed you to embark on suicide mission after suicide mission, we shouldn't have punished you. You had no reason to trust us, but I hope you can trust us now. We won't endanger you or your child again, and we will get justice for you. Just get back here safe," Kurt stopped, and Reade couldn't help but stare. He wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Kurt speak so much in one go before in his life.

Again, silence greeted them for a few seconds before her voice sounded again, "I didn't want you all to find out this way," she paused again, "In fact I didn't mean for you to find out at all." That seemed to slip out unintentionally.

"But, that doesn't matter right now. Nas, for once in her life is right. Shepherd finally brought me in on the plan. Tomorrow it all goes down, and I'm going to need you all focused. Roman and I are going to infiltrate from the inside, but we need you all ready and waiting outside to help us stop this. Sandstorm has used their moles to place bombs inside of numerous power generators. They also have built missiles, which they plan to use on Congress and three other hubs of power and information in the country. I have a plan to handle that, and to get rid of the majority of Sandstorm's active members at the base. But I need you guys to handle the bombs and to provide support at the base."

"Why should we trust you? And what were you thinking bringing Roman into this? How can we believe any of this now?" The more Nas opened her mouth, the more Reade's grip on his temper slipped away.

But before he could say anything Jane's voice came back with a hard, venomous edge. "You don't have a choice, Nas. This is happening, and if you want to stop it you'll look at the information currently being sent to Patterson. You know what's at stake and if we don't stop this, hundreds if not more will die. That'll be on you, not me."

Then the phone call ended, and all of them were left standing around. Even as Patterson's computer pinged indicating that she'd just received something. He wanted to yell at Nas, and from the looks of everyone he wasn't the only one. But Jane had been right, there were lives at stake and they needed to focus.

Tomorrow would be the day and they had a lot to do before then.

Patterson broke the ice, "Look guys, personal feelings aside," she glared unabashedly at Nas, "Our-I mean her plan, is coming together and we have the information we need. We need to get ready with man power and have Bomb Squad ready to dismantle explosives in numerous locations."

Kurt nodded and seemed to come back to himself. All of them coming alive now that they had something to focus on that they had a hope of accomplishing.

Suddenly Reade felt that everything just might be okay.