A/N—So I wrote a scene that I desperately needed to see in my mind that I would love to see a few episodes in the future. I know there are tons of issues that need to come up and be dealt with, but since I don't have time to write a 47 chapter reconciliation fic, I've just captured this one scene. Anyway, as I said, I wrote it for myself, but thought a few of you may want to read it, too. I'm sharing, but hesitantly because I know a lot of people are really having a rough time with certain developments. I apologize for my lack of thoroughness, and for glossing over so much, because I really do gloss over a lot here (like pretty much everything).

This takes place a few episodes in the future.

Something Better

The advent of several long seconds of silence was ear piercing, and startling its foreignness. Hours of talking, sometimes angry but always heart-wrenchingly sad, had slowed to a trickle of words and the heavy sound of mourning hearts.

Earlier, they'd gone to their apartment together, not for a reunion or the feeling of home, but because that was the only place they felt they'd be able to talk without interruption. They'd walked in the door, and Kurt's phone rang. He silenced the ring, but before he'd even put it back in his pocket, Jane took it from his hand and turned it off, then did the same to hers. Beginning the conversation had been hardest, but once the words had begun to flow, they came with such fury that they'd never even made it five steps past the door. As the weight of the previous years slammed them, they'd ended up seated on the floor right there, backs against opposing walls, facing each other.

"I guess Roman got what he wanted," Kurt noted.

He didn't have to say more. She knew her own brother had wanted to watch her bleed, to hurt her and everyone who'd meant anything to her, to destroy any hope of happiness.

"I'm so sorry I let him go that day, when we got Shepherd. It all goes back to that, all of this. I've replayed it again and again in my mind," she said, feeling like tears should fall, but realizing her body had seemed to run out.

"No," he shook his head. "It goes back long before that, way back to the beginning. We keep trying to move on from the things that have happened between us like it doesn't matter, but it does. Like the little betrayals and the secrets can be put behind us. I know that…we both wanted to be happy so bad. But all of that stuff is never really gone. No matter how hard we try to forget."

"We're not pretending everything's okay now," she said, feeling a little hope at that suggestion.

"There's not much left to pretend with," he replied, his voice barely recognizable. "I've loved you," he said, looking at her, "I—I still love you. I probably always will, no matter what happens." He shook his head, unable to keep his stare. "I guess that's stupid to say now."

"It's not stupid."

"But it is, Jane," he said, looking at her again. "We've hurt each other so many times. Now that all of the lies and secrets are cut out of us…I'm not sure what's left."

"That's not true."

"I want you to be happy," he said as strongly as he could, although he sounded more feeble than she'd ever remembered hearing. "Truly happy. And if you want a div—"

"Stop," she said, sliding across the floor on her knees until she was in front of him.

It was the first time they'd been so near in ages. "Don't say the word," she said.

"It's just a word."

"I know, but…if you say it, it feels too real. Too possible."

"All of this is real. The damage is done. You mean so much to me. I will never meet anyone that I feel the same way about. All that I ask…is that you find someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. A man who really loves you and can—" he stopped, finding more tears somewhere in reserve as he looked away. "I just want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. When I married you, I thought it would be forever. That was the truth. Those words came from the heart."

"I've already found that man," she argued, suddenly realizing that her body, too, had managed to cry a little more. Her throat hurt and eyes ached, and she wondered if she looked as destroyed as he did. "If you can't forgive me, if you can't—"

"I have forgiven you already. That isn't the issue."

For some reason, that made her hurt more. "I've already forgiven you, too. I never wanted it to happen like this," she said. "I love you."

"Then we're right back to where we were. We say we love each other, and all's forgotten. But it's all still there. It's in your eyes every time you look at me. And how long before we end up back here again, blaming each other, blaming ourselves, on the verge of ending this?"

"You're right," she choked out. "So you're done, you're giving up?"

"I'll never be done," he replied. "But I don't know how to fix this. I love you so much that…maybe the most loving thing I can do is walk away."

"I'm not done either. I'm not, Kurt. I still love you."

"So what do we do?"

He leaned back against the wall, his feet planted on the floor and knees tented in front of him. She put her hand on his knee, resting her chin on top of it. She hadn't been the same since she'd discovered his secret, and he hadn't been the same since he'd discovered hers. "I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," he said, reaching out slowly, like a hundred pound weight burdened his arm. His thumb ran across her cheek with such delicateness that it left marks on her soul. She hadn't realized how damp her face had become until she felt his touch parting the tears to find her skin.

"I want to do things right this time."

"We've said that before."

"Are there any secrets, Kurt?" she asked. "Anything at all…pile them on. This is the perfect chance to say everything. Things really can't get much worse, can they?"

She smiled, but knew no happiness or levity was conveyed in her look. It was a pained smile, full of regret and anguish.

"There's nothing," he replied with a similar grimace. "Your turn," he continued, although she could see that he didn't want to, that he feared something more, something more horrible in the well of secrets that he'd had yet to learn. She'd seen him face down terrorists, murderers, bombs, and gunfire without a hint of hesitation or fear, but sitting there on the floor, he seemed terrified of the words that she might speak. "Just get it over with. Right here, right now," he encouraged.

"There's nothing," she lifted her head and answered, her voice dry and soft, but certain. "You know everything."

His only answer was a swift exhalation and a nod. "You're completely certain?"

"Yes," she answered with a bit more volume.

"Good." He put his hand on top of hers on his knee. "I really do want you to find some happiness. Your life…you've been through enough—"

"Don't say that," she shook her head, feeling irritated that somewhere within him, he still wanted to protect and defend her, and still hated the things that had happened to her with more vehemence than he felt anger toward her.

"It's true."

"I want to make this work," she said, strongly. "I will do whatever I have to do, anything…as long as you're just as committed to that as I am."

He licked his lip as he thought. She despised her role in the pain on his face, in the ache he experienced, and felt like she could barely remember his smile anymore. "I would do whatever it takes," he finally answered. Just as her hope ballooned, it fell when he said, "I just don't know what that is. I'm not placing blame. I'm not good at communicating, and I'm so messed up that—"

"Stop," she argued.

"Then what? What do you think we can do to fix this?"

"Would you see a therapist?"

"Me?" he countered abruptly.

"Both of us. Together. So we can stop sweeping stuff out of the way and pretending we're fine."

"You said after Borden that you'd never see a shrink again."

"I know. This is worth it. I'd do it for you. For us. And…for me. Because I'm not okay. I'm clearly not okay."

He lowered his head, and she couldn't read if it was from sadness or contemplation.

"But would you?" she asked again. "I'm willing to do this to try to save what we have, and turn it into something better. Because I believe in us. I believe this can be amazing. But I can't go alone and expect it to work for both of us."

"I'll go," he answered.

"You will?" she felt herself grin, even though she was still crying. It felt like they'd been crying forever.

"Yea. If it means…you still want me, that you want to work things out with me."

"I do, Kurt. I want this to last. I don't want anyone else. If we can survive this…we can survive anything…if we can just figure out how to do it right. I think we love each other more than enough. We just have to figure out how to function and deal with it all. How to really look at things between us without being afraid."

"Like a case," he nodded.

"Yea. Like we want to search through everything for the truth, and figure out how to stop it from exploding."

He finally smiled, but she'd never seen such a look of exhaustion. "Okay. But I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If I'm honest with you, no leaving. Not to protect me or anyone. No more dropping your ring and walking out the door. If you're mad at me, and you need space, or time, fine. But we agree when to meet to talk about it later. Because I can't throw myself in if I think you're gonna leave without at least trying to talk. I won't make you promise to stay, but I would like you to promise to at least try to work things out. I need that from you."

She nodded. "I promise. But you…you have to promise, no more protecting me, or hiding to try to spare my feelings. And we both promise, no secrets. We can't keep stuff from each other, even when it hurts."

"I understand. I promise."

"Whatever it takes," she assured.

"Whatever it takes. And if it doesn't work out, if we go through therapy and decide we can't—"

"No," she shook her head. "We can. I feel that you love me. I can feel it when I'm near you. No matter how sad or furious you are…I can still feel the way you love me. And I love you so much. So much. I—I—"

She broke down, not in gentle tears but huge sobs that were joined by his. "Come here," he whispered, opening his arm.

Trying to move but finding her body refused to respond, he reached over his legs and lifted her until she sat next to him, his hug surrounding her like a cocoon. She hadn't felt such comfort in ages, her face nuzzling against his chest.

After a time, she put her hand on his chest, lifted her head, and asked, "How do you still love me?"

"I just do," he responded. With thought, he confessed, "After everything, the good still outweighs it. The way I feel when I see you, and hold you…hear your voice, smell you on my clothes. I don't want to give up."

"I don't either. So we won't. Please…don't give up."

"I'm stubborn as hell, and so are you. As much as we tried to look out for each other, we were sort of living our own lives. You protecting me, me protecting you, we need to be ourselves, but together, a unit."

"Kurt, I am so sorr—"

"Stop," he smiled, holding her face again. "Stop saying it. I know you are. I hope…you know that I am, too."

"I do."

"So let's stop saying it, and start figuring out how to make it work."

"I'd like that."

She stood and saw his eyes flash with hurt. He softly questioned, "You're going to the hotel?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"I wasn't going," she put her hand on his shoulder and walked to the kitchen and grabbed them each a glass of water and returned.

He stood, accepting the glass and quickly gulping it down. She took it from his hand and placed both cups on the counter before returning. Jane fidgeted with her hands, standing in front of him like she wasn't sure what to do next.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but realized that touching her own husband had become something that felt forbidden, and she didn't care for that feeling. But she felt so entirely wrecked already that she wasn't sure if she could handle being rejected, even temporarily.

"What?" he asked, suspiciously.

"I just—" she half smirked at him, finding his expression a little less devastated. "I wanted to…"

He was still and silent in front of her. Sometimes she wished he was more prone to finishing her sentences or trying to read her mind, rather than patiently waiting for her thoughts. She chuckled awkwardly, but stepped forward. Her eyes lingered on his for a moment, questioning, but he gave no answer, or made no move. So she raised slightly on her toes and brought her lips so close to his that she could almost feel them.

Then she paused, right there, poised and ready to be rejected or relieved. He looked over her face, either reading her or remembering her, and the second he moved the barest millimeter closer, she closed the gap completely.

Damn she'd missed his embrace. She didn't want to push things, to ask for more than he was prepared to give. Only their lips met, and the momentary elation of his acceptance of her kiss only made her feel everything that was still absent.

She broke contact, looking at his eyes and seeing something very inscrutable. The words that would come could hurt her all over again, and in her mind, she could already imagine him saying, 'I can't do this,' or 'Don't touch me,' or even worse, 'Get away.'

Her heart screamed so loudly she wondered if he could hear it, and then his arm moved under hers and wrapped around her, and her whole body was pulled against him. He smiled tentatively and she returned it. This time he lowered his face to hers, and the moment she came back to him, all resistance vanished. His mouth devoured hers, the taste of her husband on her tongue like a delicacy she'd denied herself for too long.

Soon her fingers ached from the tightness of her grasp on his shoulders, or on fistfuls of clothing. She could not let him go, and thankfully he didn't ask for any such thing. Jane stepped backwards, bringing him to the sofa since she still wasn't sure if he intended to share a bed. The living room seemed safer.

As if falling in slow motion, she fell to the cushions and he tumbled along. He pulled her up onto him, sitting on his thighs just above his knees. That kiss decimated her shell, slow and sultry, his mouth making love to hers without a scrap of clothing shed.

Her hands slid up the back of his neck, holding his head close, lost in the tide of the beginnings of their reconciliation. Their hands moved over each other's backs, shoulders, and faces, not a single touch becoming sexual, but all powerfully intimate. The veil of secrets no longer between them allowed them closer.

He took her tiny hand in his and held it over his heart, and she did the same with his other hand, holding it to her chest as they kissed like maybe they could fix all of their problems right there on the sofa. How she wished things could be so simple.

She wasn't sure when kissing had become enough, when a connection like that could make her very spirit feel something nothing else in the world could.

Their hearts had been pummeled raw, souls battered and wounded, minds exhausted and confused. And in the middle of all of that pain was a kernel of hope, and happiness. Their devotion was shared through the contact, as apologies were demonstrated, sorrow was shared and soothed, and love was felt.

They kissed like that forever, but not long enough, and eventually she cuddled up next to his side on the sofa. She contemplated more, thought about being naked with him, allowing this reunion to be more complete, but neither made a move to do so.

"I know we haven't really fixed anything," she began.

He turned his head and looked at her. "But it's a start."

"But, Kurt, I'm going to call the therapist tomorrow. I was serious about that. We can't go on pretending like nothing happened and everything is going to be fine."

"I know."

"Can I sleep next to you?" she asked. "Just sleep?"

Dammit if he didn't stare his response first, again waiting several breaths to reply. His fingertips moved over her forehead, pushing her hair back from her eyes. "I would be hurt if you slept anywhere else. But I'd understand if you decide to."

She smiled openly, knowing that such an honest and complete response was difficult for him, and that he'd been intentionally forthcoming. He really was going to try. And so was she.

"That…is exactly where I want to be," she answered. Then, thinking better of it, she shook her head. "No. It's where I need to be."