A/N:This is an angsty AU fic starting from the end of s3. All of the other events of s3 apply, except Jane wakes up as herself, not as Remi.

This will be angsty as hell, but I promise there will be a hopeful ending. So, please don't put a bounty on my head.

Before I get on with the story, a special thanks to take2intotheshower and indelibleevidence for betaing and acting as my sounding board as I rambled endlessly about the events and sequence of this fic.

Jane was sitting by Kurt's bedside again, in the same chair she had spent the last day in. She held his larger hand in hers, gently stroking the back of it with her thumb. Lying there, still sedated and between surgeries, he looked so vulnerable.

Since she had woken up and wandered to his room where the team was with Kurt, he had undergone another surgery and the doctors said a third was still necessary to repair the damage and try to prevent infection from setting in. They were keeping him sedated and on a ventilator, so as not to strain his body before what they hoped was the last operation. They would be coming shortly to take him to surgery.

Jane herself had been discharged from the hospital soon after waking up, since medically there wasn't much they could do. But what she had learned after it was something that felt like the cruelest joke that fate could throw at her. She wasn't pregnant, she was dying. The happiness she had felt at the prospect of starting a family, the absolute joy on Kurt's face when she had told him she thought she might be pregnant; it had all been a cruel twist of fate. The ZIP was slowly poisoning her. Patterson and Rich had sworn to do everything they possibly could to find the cure, already having started analysis of the information Roman had left behind. And Jane knew they would.

She trusted the team and cared for them like family, but the person she needed the most right now was lying in the hospital bed in front of her. She could not turn to Avery; having lost her adoptive parents had been hard enough for her and it wouldn't be fair to have her shoulder Jane's worries too. And she had lost Roman. Had the situation been different, they might have been fighting this together. But it was not to be, her brother was gone. And now she faced the possibility of losing her husband as well.

She leaned in and tenderly caressed Kurt's forehead before running her fingers through his hair. "Kurt, please hang on," she whispered pleadingly to his still form.

Maybe it was selfish of her to hope he would fight through this to support her. But Kurt was all she had left. As much as she loved the team and Avery, the only person she felt she could truly lean on, to let herself be vulnerable with, was Kurt. She couldn't weather this storm alone. She needed his silent strength, his support and his love.

Kurt had been in surgery for nearly two hours. Jane had spent almost the entire time pacing the short hallway of the surgical wing waiting area. It took her sixty-seven steps to get from one end to the other and there were 48 horizontal lines in the floor between the tiles.

There was no one else in the waiting area; Jane didn't know if she should feel worried or relieved. "People would probably think I'm crazy if they saw me pacing back and forth." She counted her steps, the lines and the number of tiles over and over again because she needed something to focus on. If she let her focus slip, her mind would wander and she'd start thinking about Kurt's injuries, the potential complications the doctors had mentioned, the lethal amount of ZIP coursing in her veins and how much time she had left. How long did they have to find Roman's drives before the ZIP would rob her of her energy, before punishing headaches would bring her to her knees like they had with Roman? Before the ZIP would kill her? She needed Kurt now more than ever. The past couple of weeks had thrown Jane's world into a tailspin and she needed him to get better so that they could face this together.

Looking at the floor as she walked, Jane didn't notice the doctor who came out of the double doors leading into the operating rooms.

The doctor cleared his throat and Jane turned to look at him. He was a tall, thin man, maybe a little over fifty years old. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and his thin hair was already quite gray. He radiated a calmness that almost made Jane feel uncomfortable.

"My name is Doctor Saunders. Are you Kurt Weller's family?"

Jane gave a short nod "Yes, I'm his wife. How is he?"

The doctor spoke in a quiet tone. "I am sorry, but I have bad news."

Jane's breath stopped short and she simply stared at him. She took a couple of steps to the side, putting her hand against the wall for support.

"I'm sorry but your husband died in surgery."

Jane gasped and blinked a few times, processing the news. "What? No! Kurt..he can't be dead."

Saunders carefully guided Jane to a chair and continued gently once she was seated. "There was a massive bleeding in his abdomen that we were unable to control and he went into hypovolemic shock. We did everything we could. I'm sorry."

Jane leaned into her hands in shock, feeling like she was unable to process the doctor's words. She felt like her world had stopped spinning. "Kurt's dead. He's dead." She had thought she would cry and scream, but she couldn't. There were no tears: she simply felt numb. She couldn't fathom it.

Jane looked at Saunders, feeling like she wanted to plead with him to tell her that there had been a mistake and Kurt was alive, but instead she heard her own voice tiredly asking "Can I see him, please?"

"I'm afraid it won't be possible until the morning. The technicians have to remove the medical equipment and there is no one at the morgue at this hour to facilitate the viewing by family members. I also have to ask you to fill out some paperwork, so that we have all of your husband's information."

Jane nodded. "Yes. Whatever you need."

Jane closed the apartment door behind her and threw her keys on the kitchen table. For a moment she just stood by the counter, looking around the apartment. "He's gone." The apartment looked the same as it always paper was on the table, a couple of bills on the counter along with an assortment of junk mail. But the more she looked, the more Jane saw things that were decidedly Kurt. The Scotch decanter by the side table in the living room, his shirt thrown over the back of a chair, the CD- player's remote. She walked over to the chair, running her fingers over the fabric, before picking up the shirt. She held it in her hand, almost hesitantly, before bringing it to her cheek and nuzzling her face into the cloth. Jane could smell Kurt's scent in it. She still couldn't comprehend the doctor's words: "complications…tried to revive him…dead."

Jane slowly made her way to the couch and sat down. She sat there for a moment, not really feeling anything. Numb. She felt like she had a million thoughts running through her head, but at the same time, none at all. She'd never again hear his voice answering her call with the soft greeting only reserved for her. See how his eyes lit up when talking about something that made him happy. Hear him growl her name in a way that made her weak at the knees.

Jane didn't know how long she'd sat on the couch, the last vestiges of light had faded and the apartment was shrouded in darkness. She turned on the light beside her and got up, feeling like she needed a drink, a strong one. She walked to the side table, staring at the Scotch decanter and the glasses surrounding it. Jane had given the decanter to Kurt as a birthday present last year, knowing his affinity for a good Scotch. With a shaking hand, she uncapped the decanter and poured its contents into a glass. Taking the glass, she downed the drink in a single swig, feeling the Scotch burn its way down into her stomach. She refilled the glass before putting the decanter back in its spot and replacing the cap.

"I have to notify the team." She made her way back to the couch and sat down. "Patterson. I should call Patterson." Digging out her phone from her pocket, she opened the call list and froze. Drawing a shuddering breath, she looked at Kurt's name staring back at her from the screen. "He's the last person you called."

Jane put the phone down and took a sip of the Scotch. She picked up the phone again and forced herself to find Patterson's number. It rang a couple of times before her friend answered. Patterson had barely voiced a greeting when Jane spoke.

"He's gone."

"Wait. Jane, what?" Patterson's voice sounded disbelieving.

Jane's voice was monotone, distant even to her own ears. "There were some complications…they did all they could, but…he's dead."

"No! No, no. It can't be. Weller can't be dead."

Jane could hear the distress in Patterson's voice and Rich's incredulous tone in the background as he apparently moved closer to Patterson.

Patterson spoke again and now Jane heard the tears in her voice. "Oh no. No. Jane, I don't even know what to say."

Jane's gave a mirthless laugh "Yeah, neither do I." Releasing a shuddering breath she stated, almost matter-of-factly "He's gone."

"Where are you? Are you at the hospital?"

"No, no. I'm at home."

"Do you want some company? I could come there with you. You shouldn't be alone right now." Patterson spoke rapidly, but her tone was soft and compassionate.

Jane leaned her forehead against her other hand and closed her eyes. "No, thank you. I….I need some time alone right now, Patterson."

"Okay. But please call me if you need anything."

"I will, thanks. Look, I'm gonna go now. Bye."

"Bye Jane, take care of yourself."

After the call, Jane dropped the phone to the couch and leaned on her hands. After taking a few deep breaths to calm herself she finished the glass of Scotch and got up. She took the glass and placed it on the kitchen counter before heading to the bedroom.

Jane entered the room and noticed his closet was open. She walked over to it and ran her hand across his shirts on the hangers. She opened one of his drawers and just stared at the contents, not quite sure what she was doing. Closing it, she sat on the bed and stared at the collection of photographs on the dresser next to the bed. Her eyes stopped on one of the pictures and she picked it up.

It was a snapshot that Allie had taken of her and Kurt as they were painting their house in Colorado. Kurt was wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt and she had jeans and a tank top on. He had her pulled against his side with one arm and was kissing her temple as she laughed in his embrace. They had been so happy then, making plans. Before the bounty, before everything that followed.

Jane held the picture, tracing her finger over it. Soon the cold, cruel truth, hit her in the face and her first tears fell on the photo frame: He was gone...They would never have a child. They would never have the family they had talked about.

She couldn't stop the tears. "Kurt!" his name escaped her lips in almost a wail. "Kurt. Why? God, why?" Her breath hitched as the shuddering sobs tore through her body. "Why him and not me?" Jane spoke aloud to no one in particular. "You already took my brother. And now Kurt is gone. I have no one left." She desperately clutched the photo to her chest as she lay down on the bed and wept deep, painful tears. "Kurt…no. Please, no."