She was exhausted by the time they got back to the apartment. Her legs were calling for rest, but her brain was wide awake. Now that they were home - was she even allowed to call it home anymore? - everything was coming back to her. The note she'd left, telling Kurt that she was sorry but that she had to go, her tears spilling onto the paper and smudging the ink; The pain that she'd had in every inch of her body as she'd quietly slipped out of the apartment at 3am, whilst he slept soundly - and unknowingly - in their bed.

And the rings. Leaving her rings behind was the worst of all. She had quietly placed them on top of the folded note, which lay on her bedside table. She remembered how happy she'd been when he had opened the little box, the ring - simple but elegant - shining in the moonlight. And he was radiating pure joy, too; she'd never seen him so happy. She'd said yes before he could even ask her.

The memories flooding back sent a shiver up her spine. Kurt closing the apartment door brought her back to her senses. He looked exhausted, too; she wondered how long he'd travelled to find her. Days? Weeks? Months?

It was pretty late, but she was unsure whether she'd even be able to sleep. Everything was too overwhelming.

He must've sensed it too, because it only took one look at her face for him to know what was going on inside her head. He knew her better than anyone, even after everything that had happened.

He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder, his thumb lightly running over her shoulder blade. She resisted the urge to crash right into him and sob into his shirt.

"Jane, you look exhausted. Why don't you get some sleep, and then we can sort all of this tomorrow."

Us. He meant sort us.

She nodded, fighting back tears. "Okay," she whispered, a lump catching in her throat. She couldn't meet his eyes.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, not knowing whether to hug her or to keep his distance.

"I, uh, I kept all of your stuff, so um… you should be able to find everything". She could feel the hurt in his voice, and she hated herself for being the cause of it.

"Oh, uh… thank you." She managed to give him a tiny smile, tears still glistening in her eyes.

He squeezed her shoulder once more, then let her wander back into the bedroom. Their bedroom.

A tiny sob escaped her lungs as her fingers brushed against the familiar bed frame, along the duvet, and finally settling against what used to be her pillow. She hoped it could still be hers.

Her eyes travelled towards her bedside locker, to where the note still lay, as if he hadn't touched it - but she knew he had.

And there they were - her beloved rings, sitting just where she'd left them just over six months ago. He'd left everything untouched, waiting for her return. He'd never given up on her.

With her fingers shaking slightly, she picked up the rings, her thumb tracing over the vivid emerald on her engagement ring. "It reminded me of you," he'd said, after she'd said yes. And now everything was broken; she didn't know where they stood.

"Put them back on. Please."

Her head whipped round in shock. He was leaning against the door frame, watching her, with a pleading look in his eyes. He slowly walked towards her.

"I know you left to protect me. And it hurt me, it did. But you're back now, and that's all that matters to me. I want you to wear your rings again, because you're my wife, and I love you. Those rings, they don't belong on your bedside table… they belong with you."

She couldn't help but smile. He still wanted her.

"Okay," she whispered, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, but with a smile on her face.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He gently took the rings from her hand, and, one by one, slid them back onto her fingers, where they belonged.

She didn't realise how much she had missed the feel of the rings on her fingers until they were back on them. She couldn't control her emotions now; it was as if a dam broke inside her. She started to sob, and she threw herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist, silently vowing to never let her go again.