Author's Note: Another story, another time I don't own Blindspot. I'm just having my own brand of fun with these characters.

Jane woke up, her breath ragged as she tried to get enough oxygen. Her heart was pounding; her skin felt clammy. The room was dark – too dark – and she couldn't escape the images from the nightmare, it was as if she was still stuck there in that basement, reliving it over again. Her arm shot out, ready to strike out at the faceless figure from the dream, when suddenly, she felt his hand, gently rubbing her arm. She tensed up, her adrenalin already in overdrive from the nightmare, when she heard him say, "Shhh, I'm here Jane."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling calmer with his touch alone. Moments later, her breath had slowed back down, and she scooted backwards, so once again they were touching, and he wrapped his arm around her. "You okay?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the top of her head. She nodded slightly, squeezing his hand in affirmation.

The nightmares still came, although they were getting less and less frequent now. At first they were coming every night, for months on end. She'd wake up in a panic, at one, two am. She never could get back to sleep; every time she closed her eyes, the images, the panic returned. She couldn't escape, and the night was impossibly long. They had slowed with Kurt by her side, but she still found it impossible to fully relax. She felt embarrassed, unable to explain why these moments still haunted her.

So she hid them from him for as long as she could. When she woke up in the middle of the night, she'd slip out of bed, going to the couch or just pacing around the apartment. She never knew if he noticed. He had never asked where she was in the middle of the night, but even still, Jane knew he was being extra cautious, allowing her to share what she wanted, when she wanted.

The first time he'd seen the nightmares, really seen what was really happening, it was almost by accident. For the past weeks, he had noticed that she left the bedroom in the middle of the night. It worried him, more than he liked to admit. The first time he noticed, he went looking for her, hearing her pacing around the apartment outside the bedroom door. He didn't know what was keeping her up, and it hurt that she couldn't trust him to share. But he didn't want to push the issue, instead giving her the space he thought she needed. She always told him these things, in her own time. So instead, he stayed in bed, half awake, watching the clock, until he felt her slide back into bed with him hours later. He held her tighter those nights, trying to convince himself that everything was alright.

But then one night, he'd woken up the same time she did. Her sharp intake of air, the panicked thrashes as she threw the sheets off of her. He nearly jumped in fright at her intense reaction, and then the guilt followed nearly instantly. Was this what had happened all those other nights? How had he ever slept through it? She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her breath ragged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. He scooted over, reaching out, calling her name quietly. But she'd just closed her eyes and said no, walking out of the room without another word. He waited for a moment before following her. He found her sitting on the couch, staring out the window. He watched her for a minute, unsure what to do. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. He wanted nothing more than to take her pain away, but he was at a loss for how.

Jane knew Kurt had followed her. She didn't even know why she had left in the first place. In that moment, she had known that he would do anything to help her, and that realization scared her more than the nightmare. She had been so used to fighting these battles on her own, that even now, it was still too hard to accept his help. So she just sat on the couch, staring at the window.

He watched her for a few minutes. She didn't move, just kept staring out the window, her expression blank. He slowly walked over towards her, not sure how she would react this time. He sat on the edge of the sofa furthest away from her, not wanting to get too close, even though each inch felt like a mile. He resisted the urge to reach out, to touch her, for fear she would pull away once again. "Jane?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

That small act was all it took. Jane immediately closed the gap, crawling over to him, laying her head down in his lap. The tears came freely, and she cried for all the nights when she couldn't. He gently ran his hand over her hair, on her arm, anything he could to try and comfort her. But mostly, he let her cry. They stayed that way for hours, long after her tears ran dry. He lay down next to her, holding her tight on the too small couch.

From that night on, it had changed. Kurt had made a point to always pull her close as he fell asleep, refusing to even allow an inch to separate them. He woke up with her more often than not, pulling her close once again. He grabbed her hand, wrapping his arm around her in a tight hug until he felt her start to relax.

Those first nights were when he learned the most. She talked about the nightmares that had been haunting her for months. They varied from night to night, it seemed. Sometimes it was the torture, and she would cry as she was forced to relieve every shock, every strike she endured at the hands of the CIA. Sometimes it was memories from her childhood, the times with Roman, as they were taught to kill, tormented first by soldiers, then by Shepherd. Sometimes she couldn't even explain what had woken her up, the terrifying feeling overwhelming her, without even knowing what she had seen in her mind. Those were the worst, the hardest for her to calm down from. Those nights they both laid there, wrapped up each's others arms, until the sun rose.

The first time she'd slept through the night, the entire night, without waking up once, she couldn't believe it. The sun peeking in the windows was what finally roused her, feeling refreshed for the first time in a long while. Kurt was still asleep behind her, his arms keeping her tight against his chest. She could feel his gentle breath on the back of her head, the rhythmic in and out a reminder of how far they had come. She couldn't help but smile; for the first time, she finally knew what it felt like to be truly happy. She shifted, turning over so she could look at his face, seeing him as he woke up. With that small movement, his eyes flickered open. Almost instantly, the same smile appeared on his face. She cupped his cheek, gently kissing him before saying "Thank you."

Thoughts?