Author's Note: The parts of Jane's hospital visit that we didn't get to see on screen during 4x05. The dialogue from the first part of the second scene is lifted straight from the episode.

The drive to St. Joseph's was mostly silent. Remi was tense, anxious about the test, and walking that fragile tightrope between hope and scepticism—afraid to fall down on either side, in case she hurt herself.

Just before they got to the hospital, Weller cleared his throat. "Jane… I have to ask you something."

She steeled herself, knowing she couldn't distract him with kisses or hugs while he was driving, unsure what was coming. Was he going to ask her about Violet Park? "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you try to get out of this appointment? Back there in the lab, you sounded like you wanted to skip it." He glanced over, that mixture of confusion and hurt on his face again. God, she hated that look.

"You can't think of a reason I'd want to avoid a spinal tap without anaesthesia?" Her voice came out thicker with derision than she'd intended, and she cleared her throat and tried for something more Doe-like. "I'm just…not great with hospitals."

"I know." He reached over, took her hand for a moment and squeezed. "And I'd hate for you to think I'm pushing you into this test. It's your decision. I just didn't think you'd want to get out of it, since it might lead to something that could help."

Remi sighed. "Yeah. I know. I guess I just panicked a little."

Weller nodded. "That makes sense. But I'm right here with you, okay?"

"Thanks," she whispered, as the hospital came into view.

Once she was dressed in a shapeless medical gown, Weller honest-to-god tucked her into the hospital bed, like she was five years old or something. Then he pulled up a chair and took her hand. Whatever helped him feel better, she guessed. It was hard not to feel bad for him sometimes—if Oscar had been in her place, she would have been going out of her mind with helplessness. She and Weller were similar in that regard—they both preferred a threat they could fight with fists, bullets or wits.

"You sure you're up for this?" Weller asked.

"If there's even a one percent chance this could save me, I gotta try." After a hesitation, she admitted, "But yeah. I'm scared."

What was wrong with her? Confessing her weakness to Kurt Weller, of all people? She really must be sick.

"Don't be." Weller kissed her hand, the gesture more comforting than she was expecting. "You're the strongest person I know. You will beat this."

Either he was indulging in unhealthy levels of denial about her condition, or he really believed she could battle through this thing. The sincerity in his eyes was a little unnerving, and for the first time she began to feel bad about the burden he so willingly shouldered for her.

"What if I can't?" she asked, not to make him feel bad, but because she wanted to make him confront what might be reality. He needed to face the facts, for his own sake.

What if I die? How are you going to cope once I'm gone?

"Hi there," a voice said, before she could get the questions out.

Remi turned to see a doctor approaching her bedside, a nurse not far behind. She tried to greet the woman who might be responsible for saving her life, but couldn't open her mouth, her nerves flaring sharply.

"Okay. Now, I believe you were made aware you won't be given any anaesthesia for this procedure. It interferes with the accuracy of the examination." The woman's voice was kind, but not apologetic.

"Yeah," Remi managed to get out. "I'm aware." Very fucking aware.

"I'll be inserting a needle into your spinal column to obtain some fluid. I'll need you to stay very still. You'll feel a burning sensation and pressure on your vertebrae, and for twenty-four hours after—"

"Headaches. Nausea. Fatigue. They told me." Just stop describing it. You're just making it worse.

The doctor nodded and glanced over at the nurse, who was preparing…

Holy shit. That's a big needle. Oh, fuck, this is going to hurt so much, and I have to stay still, and what if I don't, and they screw up, and the needle damages something important? I could be paralysed or—

"Hey."

Weller's voice cut into her rapidly spiralling thoughts, and she realised she was clutching the blanket, her breath beginning to shake. Imagining how disappointed Shepherd would be at her weakness, she struggled to get herself under control.

"Don't look at them. Look at me."

Remi forced herself to meet Weller's intense gaze. Immediately, she was drawn in, unable to look away. There was something about the way he looked at her, even in the most casual of moments, that sent a tiny flutter through her. Right now, it was like he was pouring his own strength into her, willing her nerves to calm and her stomach to settle. It only helped a little, but the most important thing was that it was helping. She'd take it.

"I'm gonna be here the whole time," he reassured her.

She nodded, forcing herself to relax a little.

"Now, Ms. Doe, I'm going to adjust the bed so that you can lie flat." The electronics in the hospital bed buzzed into life. Once it was still again, the doctor said, "I'll need you to lie on your left side, facing your husband, with your knees bent."

Remi did as she was instructed, and shuddered a little as the blankets were pulled back, then her hospital gown.

"Heavens, that's a lot of ink," the doctor said, presumably trying to get her to relax. "I'm guessing this needle isn't going to faze you one bit."

Yeah? Well, guess again, bitch. She bit back the response as Weller took her left hand again. She couldn't have pulled away if she'd wanted to—she was lying on her left arm, and she had to stay still—but she curled her fingers around his with relief, trying and failing to smile her thanks at his silent support.

"Now, we're going to cover the area with iodine to make sure it's sterile."

Remi flinched as the cold tincture was applied to the skin of her back. The antiseptic smell reminded her of when she and Roman were young, when Shepherd had made them dress each other's wounds to make sure they knew basic first aid. Learning field medicine had come a few years after that.

Remember those days, Roman?

Since she'd ordered her hallucination of him to get out of her head last night, she hadn't seen him. When she'd been chopping off her hair this morning, hoping to allay Weller's suspicions about her meeting with Violet Park by looking more Jane-like, Roman hadn't appeared in the mirror behind her reflection. He hadn't even materialised to make a snarky comment when she'd kissed and hugged Weller in the hallway earlier. It was a little early to be panicking that she'd banished him for good, but she could really have used his support right then.

"Okay. We're about ready to begin."

Speak for yourself.

"No matter how much it hurts, it's very important that you remain absolutely still."

"What happens if I don't?" she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

"You won't be paralysed, if that's what you're worried about," the doctor said, in a voice that was meant to be reassuring. "The spinal cord ends a couple of vertebrae above the gap that we're aiming for. We just might end up with the needle in the wrong place, which can make the sample unsuitable, and then we have to repeat the test. Nothing catastrophic, but I'm sure you won't want to do it twice if you don't have to."

"Okay," Remi said, and tried again to relax.

"Now, you'll feel burning, and then some pressure. It should only take a few minutes."

Someone—the nurse?—rested a rubber-coated hand on her hip, presumably to make sure she didn't flinch too badly when the needle went in.

Weller squeezed her hand, and she looked up into his concerned, loving face. "I'm right here," he murmured.

She didn't dare to nod, in case it changed the alignment farther down her spine. Maybe that was stupid, but he seemed to understand when she didn't respond.

"Here we go."

The test felt like the sharp scratch of an injection for the first moment, but then the predicted burning started, and she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as they began to water. How far in was the needle going? How long did she have to endure this?

"Breathe, Jane," Weller reminded her, and she let out the breath she'd been holding in a rush, then gasped in a new one as though she could hardly remember how.

Then something changed, the burning intensifying. It felt as though the needle was pushing up one of her vertebrae, trying to disconnect it from the one below, and she bit back a curse, hyperventilating a little.

They warned you this would happen. Don't lose it now, Remi. You were a fucking Navy SEAL, for god's sake. You survived a drone strike in Afghanistan. You were tortured for three months in a CIA black site. You can do this.

The last few words sounded like Weller, and she opened her eyes, blinking away tears of pain, as he said, "It's nearly over. Just keep breathing."

Again, she realised she was holding her breath, and let it out as slowly as she could, trying not to gasp in the next, concentrating on the air filling her lungs, expanding her ribcage. Impossibly, the pain got worse, and a cry tore out of her throat, making her squeeze her eyes shut with shame. God, I'm so weak.

"Almost done, Ms. Doe," the doctor said. "Just a minute more."

A minute. She could last a minute. Right?

"I got you, Jane. Just hang on."

For some reason, she ached to hear that same reassuring, loving tone in his voice as he used her real name. Remi. I'm Remi. And you'll never love me the way you love her.

His thumb swept a slow, calming, repetitive rhythm across her hand, but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes again. She wished Roman was here. Roman knew her, knew who she really was, knew the dark thoughts that invaded her head.

You don't have to do any of this on your own. I will be with you, every step.

Except that was a lie, wasn't it? Even her hallucination of her brother had turned against her, even as she suffered through a test for a potential cure to a medical condition they had shared. Had Roman tried anything similar? Had he gone through this pain, too?

Even though Roman wasn't here with her, someone really was with her, every step. As uncomfortable as it made her, Weller was completely devoted to her—to Jane, she corrected herself, almost would have been so easy for him to just drop her off at the hospital and go back to dealing with the current threat. But he hadn't. He was sitting right here, whispering words of support, not letting go of her hand, offering everything it was within his power to give. Maybe the pain was sending her crazy, but she felt an overwhelming gratitude towards him at that moment.

"Almost there…" the doctor said slowly, as if talking to herself.

Remi swore she could feel every tiny molecule of the needle being withdrawn from her body, but then it was gone, replaced by a pressurised touch as the nurse cauterised the puncture site.

"Thank you, Ms. Doe. You can relax now," the doctor said.

Remi let out a thankful breath, opening her eyes to find Weller smiling down at her. He seemed almost as relieved as she was.

"Told you you were strong," he murmured, the words low enough that only she could hear.

Before Remi could reply, the nurse finished dressing her wound, then draped her hospital gown over her again. "All set."

"Thank you," Kurt said, his eyes on the medical personnel behind her. "How long do we have to wait for the result?"

As the doctor gave him answers—something about coming back in that evening, normal spinal taps not needing long to process but this being something a little more complex—Remi cautiously rolled over onto her back. Apart from a little nausea and tenderness around the puncture site, she felt fine.

"So you can take a couple more minutes to catch your breath, then you're free to get dressed and leave," the doctor finished, smiling at Remi. "See you this evening."

She managed a weak smile and a word of thanks as the doctor and nurse left. Then she glanced over at Weller, who was watching her carefully for signs of pain.

"Kurt, I'm okay now. It's over."

He nodded. "You want me to drive you home before I go back to work?"

She shook her head. Stay on the sidelines while there was a potential terrorist plot in the works? She needed to distract herself until tonight—and if she was honest, she wanted to help. Taking down the bad guys, even as part of an organisation as corrupt as the FBI, was rewarding. It felt like back in the early days of her military career, before she'd realised that not all of the people she was tasked to kill actually deserved it. She felt like she was making up for some of her poorer life choices by saving lives now.

"Are you kidding? Not a chance. I'll step back if I don't feel like I can handle it, but right now, I'm fine. Really."

Weller sighed, but a smile played at the corners of his lips. He bent down to pick up her folded clothing from the floor and put it in her lap. "Thought you were gonna say that."

"Kurt?" she said quietly.

He looked over, all of his attention on her.

"Thank you. For being here." She was only saying that because Jane would have. Sure, Remi. Keep telling yourself that.

Weller smiled and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "Where else would I be?"