Summary: A few months after the Season 1 finale, Jane suffers a devastating injury out in the field.

A/N: I promise this is just the first part, so bear with me through the angst! Feedback is so appreciated, and I'm grateful to you for reading!

There's a star flickering in the sky above her. That's the first thing she notices when she wakes up. It reminds her of Kurt's smile, which was always a slow, beautiful thing, like a new star embracing its light for the first time, unsure where to pin itself to the sky, how brightly to shine. It's warm when that light figures itself out, when he understands that he can and should smile, and all of it's focused right on her, and she's sure the heat of her cheeks could rival the sun.

Would he ever smile like that again at her?

It's probably dying, that star, but she wants to pretend it's only young and scared. It's just trying to understand what it's supposed to do.

She shouldn't be laying here, though, she quickly realizes. Where is she? Why is she laying down watching the stars? Thoughts return to her slowly, delivered in a fog. She has to find Kurt, she was with him last. But as she tries to stand up, Jane is quickly held down by an arm tightening around her waist.

"Don't move."

This is ridiculous. Why are they in the middle of a grassy field when they should be...no. She doesn't know. Doesn't remember.

"...Kurt?"

She knows it's him, because he's warm, and when he's holding onto her, it's the only time she ever feels steady. Trusting Kurt, Jane stays still, believing he has a good reason for commanding her not to move. Then she starts to notice something, the unwelcome embrace of an old friend; she'd almost forgotten what it felt like, how the darkened chill that settled in her bones could hurt. When she came out of that bag in Times Square, that was her first thought: how cold and alone she felt. Cold was all she had known for so long, until there was Kurt, with his warm smiles, anchoring touches, and kisses she could have lived inside of for the rest of her life.

Unlike the last time she'd been cold down to the roots of her soul, Kurt is with her now. She searches for his hand in the dark, finding both of them pressed to her abdomen, trying to staunch the steady flow of blood.

His hands are shaking.

Is he cold, too?

Her sluggish thoughts latch onto a different truth: he's scared. For her. Tilting her head up, Jane whispers, "I'm not dying…"

Even in the near total darkness of the unforgiving night harboring them, she can see him tilt his head down to meet her eyes. "No. You're not."

He says it like it's a personal challenge to Death itself, if it might dare to come for her with the next gust of wind. She'll hang on just for that. Seeing Kurt argue with an otherworldly creature would be a sight to behold.

That he would care enough to even try surprises her. Ever since he arrested her, they've begun a slow, uphill climb back towards each other. They're trying to figure out if they can fit into each other's lives again. Jane isn't sure he'll ever forgive her. She won't die tonight. She'll fight like hell.

But if the cold shadows come for her, and Kurt's strong, warm arms aren't enough to keep her here, that's the one thing she wants. She just wants to know he can forgive her because if he loses her like this, with all the dusty, broken pieces of their hearts still scattered in the valley between them, she's not sure he'll forgive himself for that.

"What the hell were you thinking?" His voice is cracking, shattering open like the night sky spilling out its restless shadows and steady light above them, so heavy with all the things it has to bear.

She shifts her legs a little, the heel of her boot kicking at the earth. Some of it comes back to her in flashes now. They were tracking someone linked to Shepherd's organization. They got separated from the team. There's barely a signal out here, it's quiet. It's dark. The earth is eating up all the light.

He was so close, he almost hit Kurt. She had a split second to think, seeing a life without Kurt flash before her eyes. She couldn't live with that, and the anger at the thought of someone trying to take him from her pushed her forward. She'd tackled him, trying to wrench the gun from him, but it went off again.

"I'll...let it hit you...next time," she teases. She hasn't teased him in months. Before everything fell apart.

It doesn't seem to matter much now. She wants a glimpse of what they were once, but that's asking too much. His head bows over hers, his palm adding a little pressure to the wound still oozing blood.

"This shouldn't have happened. I told you to stay behind me."

There's a flicker of sadness that tugs at her when he doesn't banter back. Maybe he's just that worried, or that angry. She screwed this up, too. She screws up everything. Saving someone's life seems like a good thing, an act of love and compassion. How did she get that wrong? Too weak to fire back, Jane just lays there fighting to keep her eyes open.

As the silence stretches out between them for many long minutes, she can feel Kurt's arms tensing beneath her.

"Jane."

Not even realizing her eyes had started to close, she snaps them open quickly, mumbling, "Yeah…"

"Keep your eyes open."

"Mhmm."

"Just...listen to me. Keep your eyes open, you hear me?"

Why does it matter? She wants to ask. Her choices are to die in a jail cell - Kurt's been protecting her, she knows he's risking everything to keep her out of prison right now, but there's no telling how long that will last - or to die out here, in his arms. When he arrested her, she'd been sure she'd die alone in prison. At least now, if this is the end, he's with her.

"Kurt…"

"Patterson got a fix on us, okay? They're coming, they're gonna be here. You just need to hang on. Jane. You need to stay with me," he begs. He never begs. This must be really bad.

"Kurt...you can let me...go," she stutters out, between breaths that feel like weighted anchors as she tries to pull them into her lungs. "It's okay…" Her eyes fall closed again, too heavy to hold open.

"No...no! Goddammit, Jane!" She can feel him shaking her, and if she had the strength, she'd blink her eyes open again, just for him.

But she can't. She goes easy with the cold, back into the dark, where she's always belonged.