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ransomedrogue · 1 year

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hey blindspotters... it’s been awhile! I fell off the writing/fandom wagon for a bit there but then I just checked back in and the rewatch was on 3.20... and I wrote something? It’s a couple of extra scenes (to make the gunshot wound worse than it appeared of course :P). oh and it all came out quick and I didn’t actually watch the episode again so apologies for any inconsistencies.

3.20

Jane ran to Avery as soon as she dropped the weapon, wrapping her arms around her daughter in relief. Watching Avery point the gun at her godmother had been terrifying, especially knowing their shared DNA. Jane was sure that Remi at that age would have fired without remorse, despite the potential consequences.

Avery seemed to be in shock at what had almost happened; what she'd almost done. Her body was stiff in Jane's arms and her breathing started to become frantic so Jane guided her towards the couch, away from the action.

"Here, let's sit down," she said. "You did the right thing, everything's going to be okay."

Avery sat obediently, still shaky as Jane's hand settled between her shoulders.

"Okay great. Now let's breathe together for a bit."

Jane quietly encouraged Avery to inhale deeply before releasing her breath slowly, until a few silent minutes passed and Avery finally spoke.

"I almost killed her," she whispered, sounding almost in awe.

"I'm sorry."

Jane shook her head, fighting back an emotion she couldn't quite identify. It was part pride, part guilt, with a sprinkling of regret. Avery had made the right choice, despite everything she'd been through, all the things a parent should have protected her from.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Jane replied. "You have every right to be angry, and you still made the right choice. I'm proud of you, and I'm sure your dad would be too."

Avery finally stopped staring blankly at the floor and looked up at Jane, with obvious uncertainty in her eyes.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," she said softly. "Everything's so messed up."

Jane sighed, her heart aching for her daughter. Learning the truth about her own parentage had been hard enough, even without memories of growing up with Shepherd. Avery had thought her family was completely normal until recently, and was still just a kid in so many ways. Of course it was a lot to wrap her mind around, and would involve a lot of mixed emotions.

"I know," Jane replied. "I'm sorry about all of this."

"It's not your fault," Avery said, shaking her head. "You saved my life today."

Of course she had, there hadn't been any other option. It wasn't something she expected her daughter to thank her for though; it was just a given. Avery was her kid, even if she rightfully didn't consider Jane her parent. And no one was going to hurt her kid.

Jane tried to figure out a way to deflect Avery's gratitude but her train of thought was interrupted by Kurt's voice, coming from behind them.

"Yeah, she does that," he commented, placing his hand on Jane's shoulder and squeezing lightly.

Jane looked up over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at him, but her smile belied any annoyance at his statement. Weller was always so proud of her that it was almost over the top. However, considering how broken their relationship had been just recently, it warmed her chest hearing his love for her come through in the tone of his voice.

"Paramedics are here to take you to the hospital," Weller said. "And I'll take Avery to the NYO to get her statement. Reade and Zapata can wrap things up here."

Avery flashed Jane a worried look and a surge of protectiveness washed over her.

"I don't need to go to the hospital, I'll come with you to the NYO," Jane protested. "I can get medical to look at it after Avery's done her statement."

"That tourniquet's been on for two hours now, it needs to be loosened soon," Kurt replied. "Let's go see what the paramedics say first."

"Kurt…"

"No arguing," he said, his voice stern though his thumb continued to rub soothing circles against her skin.

"Yeah. No arguing," Avery added, her tone equally serious.

Jane sighed in defeat, shaking her head as she stood up and let Kurt walk her towards the ambulance.

"Okay, let's get this over with," Jane said, sitting down on the gurney that the EMT pointed her towards.

The paramedic asked all the standard questions about her injury and frowned when she said how long the tourniquet had been on for.

"We need to get you to the hospital and get that off of your arm as soon as possible," he said. "Let's get you strapped onto the gurney and we'll get moving."

Jane immediately got off the stretcher at his words and started to walk away but Weller used his bigger size to press her back into a seated position.

"Kurt, it can wait," she protested.

"No it can't," he retorted. "You know permanent damage can happen if you have that tourniquet on for over two hours."

"Fine, then they can take it off here and bandage it," Jane said. "If that isn't enough to get the bleeding to stop then I'll go to the doctor after you get Avery's statement."

Weller sighed, giving the paramedic an exasperated look.

"Will that work?", he asked.

"We can try," the EMT said. "But it is not what I would recommend."

Jane shot the man a glare and he immediately stopped talking when he saw the daggers in her eyes. Silently, he proceeded to open up his first aid kit and began wrapping a pressure bandage tightly around the wound on Jane's arm.

Jane grunted as the sensation in her arm immediately went from muted ache to pulsing throb. Her eyes closed automatically and she shivered involuntarily as a wave of discomfort shot through her. But then she felt Kurt's hand slip into hers, gripping it firmly as she tried to breathe through the pain.

It took a few moments to gather herself and when Jane opened her eyes again, the bandage was on and the paramedic was beginning to undo the tourniquet. For a second, everything seemed fine after the strap came off. But then, almost immediately, the bandage was soaked in blood and Jane's head began to spin.

"What's happening?!" Avery asked, her voice full of panic.

Jane tried to say something to reassure her daughter but all her thoughts were slipping away with her blood. She could vaguely hear Weller freaking out at the EMT's, demanding to know what was happening. But by the time the answer came, her audio input was becoming spotty, and all she could hear was something about a tear in the artery.

That doesn't sound good, she thought dimly, while everyone began yelling all around her. Then something else was wrapped around her already throbbing arm, again intensifying the pain until darkness swept over her and she slumped forward into Kurt's panicked grip.

###

Normally, Weller would be totally losing his shit.

In the current circumstance, he was still losing his shit, but only internally. At least, Kurt hoped he was maintaining a relatively calm and rational exterior for Avery's sake.

Jane was going to be fine. They had gotten to the hospital in record time, with him leading the ambulance in the FBI SUV, lights blaring all the way. Even though she had regained consciousness almost immediately after passing out in his arms, Weller had driven unreasonably fast, until he realized he was scaring Avery and toned things down a bit.

And now, he was telling himself not to pace as his mind kept going back to the memory of her eyes rolling back as she slumped forward, almost falling off the gurney before he managed to wrap himself around her. Avery kept eyeing him anxiously but Weller had offered all the reassuring words he could muster up in the haze of his own worry.

It felt like an eternity, but in reality the surgeon was out to talk to them barely an hour after Jane had been whisked away into an operating room. She offered Kurt a tired smile as he rushed up to talk to her, clearly seeing his poorly hidden desperation.

"Your wife is fine, Agent Weller," the doctor said. "She was lucky, the bullet was just deep enough to nick the deep brachial artery, but not enough to slice it through. The repair was relatively simple and she should have full function of the arm again shortly. I would still like to keep her overnight for observation, but barring any complications, she should be ready to go home in the morning."

Weller winced internally, recognizing a future battle that both he and the doctor were sure to lose.

"When can we see her?," he asked.

"She's in recovery now and will be in a regular room soon after she's awake," the doctor replied. "I'll make sure someone lets you know as soon as that happens."

Kurt thanked the surgeon and then exhaled a lungful of worry as he turned to face Avery.

"See, I told you she'd be fine," he said.

Avery smirked a little as she shook her head at him.

"You were so freaking out," she replied.

Weller sighed, accepting the obvious fact that he could be irrational when it came to Jane's well-being.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe I was," he admitted. "But I also knew she would be okay. She's been through a lot worse, she's tough as nails. Where do you think you get it from?"

At least that got a grin out of the kid.

"I mean, the same thing basically happened on our first case together and she still came back for more," he continued.

Avery looked confused for a second as she registered his words.

"You mean she got shot on her first day with you?"

"Yup," Weller replied with a grin. "And that was after she beat the crap out of two guys in a knife fight."

Avery grinned, nodding her approval.

"Jane's pretty hardcore," she said.

"She's not going to want to stay overnight, is she?"

Kurt laughed, loosening up for the first time since Jane had passed out that afternoon.

"Nope, she sure isn't."

###

She woke up in a fuzz, with fire blazing in her bicep. Trying to blink away the bleariness, Jane realized she wasn't in the recovery room anymore, even though she didn't remember falling asleep again after waking up post op. But now instead of the recovery room nurse, she was being intently observed by a pair of familiar blue eyes, etched deep with both worry and relief.

"Hey," Kurt breathed, as if full volume might overwhelm her somehow.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Jane replied, without really thinking about the question. It was what he needed to hear, and how she needed to be.

Weller smiled, a knowing sparkle in his eye as he looked her over intently.

"How's the arm? Do you need painkillers?"

"I'm fine, Kurt," she sighed. She felt blurry enough without more meds, even if her arm was pulsating. Jane didn't want to be on hospital grade drugs, especially with Avery there. She had already felt bad worrying her daughter earlier that day, and felt rather chagrined at having ended up admitted to the hospital for a graze to her arm.

"Did you guys do Avery's statement yet?"

Weller and Avery exchanged a glance before Kurt looked back at Jane.

"No, he was too busy losing it in the waiting room," Avery said, matter of factly. "I mean, he was pretending he wasn't. But it was pretty obvious."

Weller winced visibly and Jane laughed at the mix of mock and real dismay in his expression. Getting called out by a teenager was something they would both have to get used to.

"Kurt, it was a graze," she sighed.

"A graze doesn't take surgery and a bag of blood," Weller replied. "I should have known it was worse than it looked when you told me things weren't great."

"The doctor wants you to stay overnight," he added. "Just for observation."

Jane sighed, steeling herself for a battle.

"Kurt…"

"I know. You're fine, and you don't want to stay," Weller said, flashing Avery another look.

But his tone more bemused than upset, and when he glanced back at Jane, she could see affection glittering in his eyes.

"Will you at least wait for the doctor to come take a look? Then you can tell him you're leaving and we can all go to the NYO after."

It was an easy compromise, especially since she was still a little groggy from the anaesthetic. Jane grinned at her husband, glad to have avoided an argument.

"And then we'll go get my favourite burritos?," Jane added suddenly inspired by a growl in her stomach.

Kurt laughed, nodding in pretend defeat.

"Yes dear, then we'll go get your favourite burritos."

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot rewatch 2023

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ladyriot · 2 months

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This is the closest to humour I ever get. Snippet from a Blindspot fic, zapatterson, "Triboelectric" after the iconic elevator scene of course. Slightly suggestive.

Tasha needs to learn to listen to her own damn advice. The leather couch in her apartment squeaks in protest as she throws herself down onto it, but she can't be bothered to care. Memories of her morning infect her brain instead. It's karma, really, how she'd pushed Patterson to move on and get back on the horse, then gets called into Reade's office only to hear that he's gotten engaged to Meg.

Her chances have been swallowed up with the ring on Meg's finger. And it's only exactly what she deserves. She rejected Reade, when he kissed her all those years ago after the hospital. She doesn't get to take it back. Patterson's face had gone all… soft and concerned when she'd said that, told her "things change." Tasha had tried so hard not to spit the next words out, not at Patterson who could never deserve that; "and people get engaged." There's finality in that, at least the suggestion of permanence.

Her body is heavy and aching, like the air full of pressure before a storm. She wonders if that's what a body feels like when you refuse to let it feel all its feelings, hold back the tears and suck in breath after breath only never to exhale. How do you breathe again when you know you'll be alone forever, when the only person in years to want you, to think the two of you <em>just make sense</em>, finds somebody better, somebody not afraid of themselves, not too afraid of loss to commit to anything?

Her doorbell rings, startling her. But it's Patterson, with a six pack of Tasha's favourite beer.

"Thought you could use this," Patterson says, holding out the case. "I can stay or I can leave you alone, no offence taken."

"Stay," Tasha says. "Thanks for…" She takes the six pack in her hand. "Sit down, I'll get ice."

Patterson nods and goes. Tasha walks into the kitchen, fills a bowl with ice in contemplative silence and mindlessly sticks some beers in it to cool. She turns and opens her fridge, grabbing her last already cold beer to start with and wishes Patterson were just here to hang out, the morning's events having never happened, never led to her feeling so bitter.

Because, well, Tasha has never taken a more interesting elevator ride in her life. She'd stepped into the elevator of the FBI, greeted by the flustered nod of her friend as she got hit on by the scientist from upstairs. Patterson was delightfully pink, turning a shocked look over to Jack and revealing the tiniest sliver of a smile when he called her magnetic, stuttering out that the charge was actually triboelectric. Tasha had only grinned wider, both at Patterson's awkwardness and just…

"Tribo," Patterson had explained, waving the errant dryer sheet as she spoke. "The greek term for rubbing"

And oh, Tasha knew and absolutely delighted in the humour of it. Tasha looked down so her laugh wouldn't be obvious in the space of the elevator. To her surprise, Patterson shrugged off the prospect of a date with just about the worst excuse Tasha had ever heard in all her life.

And now Tasha stands barefoot in her kitchen, thinking that talking about that elevator ride would be much more fun had it not ended in Reade's office with a ruined mood, if it didn't leave her in her apartment conjuring alternate endings to that moment before Reade's announcement, endings which would not end in her being upset, thoughts that spark little embers or like sparks on livewire in her stomach.

Tasha shakes it off, closing that box off in her head and marking it with a giant, red letter X. Patterson was, in her own way, incredibly vulnerable right now, untrusting of dating, of connecting. She'd come here as a friend. Tasha asjusts her shoulders and goes to meet Patterson in her living room, passing her the already cool beer while she pops open a lukewarm one and sticks a few ice cubes into it. Common decency or hostess code or something, not chivalry. Not… of course not.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Patterson asks carefully.

"What's there to talk about?" Tasha said. "I can't change it. And I don't even think I want to. I want him happy and he is. So." Tasha shrugs. "I'll be fine."

Patterson's face scrunches. "You will be. Okay, I mean. You'll find someone else," Patterson insists. "I fully believe the right person's out there. Maybe it's just not now."

"Patterson," Tasha says as she raises an eyebrow and inclines her head. "You're the one who's magnetic. Me, not so much. No one's hitting on me in the elevator."

Patterson blushes. And then laughs.

"Okay okay okay," she says. "Fine. But it's triboelectric. And I'm sure one day someone will hit on you in the elevator."

Tasha snorts through her nose. "Yeah, right."

Then she starts laughing. It just sounds so dirty.

"Stop laughing, no!" Patterson says. "You're worthy of love, you're attractive, funny, it'll happen if that's what you want. Whoever it is will be lucky."

"Thank you. But I'm not laughing because… but, triboelectric?" Tasha lifts an eyebrow suggestively.

Patterson blushes fiercely in response.

"I didn't think you'd fully get what I meant," Tasha leaps. "Did you...? When did you—wait, nevermind. I shouldn't ask that."

"I didn't say it was ever, you know, successful. The.. uh… anatomy has to match up."

"Oh, I know, Patterson," Tasha agrees.

Patterson seems to stumble, her mouth not knowing what shape to move in. "I…"

#and... that's all you get #I'd need a full rewatch of blindspot to write more fic because I forget everything #blindspot #zapatterson #tasha zapata #patterson #and my favourite tag:#bisexual patterson

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