A/N-Thank you so much for welcoming me, everyone! This is such a great fandom. I'll try to make sure I post at least one update per week, if not more. I apologize in advance for any errors.

Chapter 2: Never Let Go

She woke after only two hours, her senses still heightened and nerves shot. With each moment since she left captivity, her consciousness, emotions and sense of self started to return. She didn't want them to come back, not yet. Reality was so filled with pain and heartache, she wasn't ready to feel the full impact of it yet. Weller was still sitting, guarding her…or maybe guarding himself from her, as he listened to the local news on a small television. She knew exactly how messed up this whole situation was when she realized she felt safer being guarded by Weller, who very well may have become an enemy, than she'd felt in a very long time. She remembered, for just a moment, how wonderful it used to feel when she was overwhelmed or sad, and he'd wrap his arms around her. She remembered the way he felt and smelled and the sound of his heartbeat in his chest when she'd rest her head against him. Now that was all gone. She was probably fucked up beyond repair if she was actually grateful to be sleeping under his watchful eye and sidearm.

He must have noticed she was awake because he said, nodding toward the television, "Looks like someone was covering their tracks."

On the screen, she watched a news report about a building that was completely destroyed when a supposed gas leak caused an explosion. "That was where I was being held?" she asked, sitting up.

"Yea. That's it. I don't know who did it though. Maybe CIA. Someone I know covering for the fact that I broke in there and killed a few people. Maybe one of your people."

"My people? I don't have my own people," she argued immediately. "You and the team…you are my people. I've told you, all I wanted to do was protect you. And them. I loved working those cases. I loved saving lives. I loved being part of the team."

He nodded, trying to silence her protests. "Fine. Maybe the people who think they're your people."

"This means someone probably knows I got away."

"Yea. Which means we need to get an early start."

Weller slept for two hours, enough to give him some strength to keep going as Jane kept watch. She was surprised that he trusted her enough, but then again, he didn't have many options. Given the abrasions on her wrists, she was grateful he didn't handcuff her to anything.

Once he woke, they hurriedly cleaned up all of the evidence that they'd been there. Jane picked up her prisoner's clothes from the garbage in the bathroom, holding them in her hands and staring as memories of captivity filled her thoughts. Something nudged her shoulder, and she reacted automatically, lunging back and jamming Weller down to the floor. Pressing her knee into his chest to hold him down, she was ready to unleash her fury because her body was still in fight-or-flight mode. But Weller caught her fist and said, firmly, "It's just me, Jane." She stopped swinging, but kept him pressed down against the floor. "It's me…Kurt. And I am never going to hurt you."

"Sorry," she mumbled, standing and offering a hand to help him up. "I overreacted."

"I think we need to operate under the assumption that you're probably experiencing some post-traumatic stress. You can't go through what you went through and expect to be objective and calm."

"Still."

"I'll be more careful…make sure not to sneak up on you. I just wanted to give you this backpack I found. If we each carry a few supplies, they should last a few days."

Down in the garage, they gathered a few of the camping supplies the owners had stored there. They grabbed a tent, small lanterns, and numerous other items that they crammed into her backpack and a large hiking pack that he intended to carry. They mostly took things that were stacked toward the back of the shelves behind other things so if someone were to return, they wouldn't immediately see the missing supplies.

Jane found a trunk with old army uniforms and a few other clothes the previous owner didn't wear any more. She grabbed the smallest pair of fatigues, a tank top, and field jacket. The boots she found were a little large, but would certainly protect her feet. They gathered a few more things, not enough to weigh them down, and were ready to go. As uncertain as everything felt, at least she was back in a more comfortable circumstance: basic survival.

They weren't exactly sure where they were going, but they knew they had to get farther away. After a few hours of hiking through the dense forest, and along the mountainous terrain, they were beyond exhausted, but neither would give up. They didn't speak much, focusing their energy on continuing. Weller had obviously been thinking, because he suddenly broke the silence when he turned and asked, gruffly, "Why? Why did you do it? We welcomed you…I welcomed you. I thought—I don't know. I thought there was something here." He gestured back and forth between them. "Did you play me? Was that all some game to get close and manipulate me? Or maybe I—did I imagine it all?"

"Every personal moment between us…it was real. Very real. I never played you. There were things I did that I know you aren't happy about, but I didn't have a choice. I had to protect you."

"You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth? If they were trying to control you, why didn't you come to me for help? I could have helped you."

"Do you really want to know?" she asked. "And if I tell you, will you even believe me?"

"One way to find out," he shouted over his shoulder as he started hiking again. "Besides, it isn't like we have anything else to talk about."

As they walked, she talked to him about Oscar, Mayfair and Carter. She could see the pain the loss of Mayfair had caused him. She told him about memories she'd discovered while in captivity. He quietly listened, and she could seldom see his face. She doubted this would really fix anything, but at least she knew that, if they were separated again, she had the chance to tell him the truth. She didn't know if things were okay between them. She didn't know if she'd made things better or worse with her honesty. And Weller wasn't giving her any clues.

They only paused a few times to rest over the next couple of days as they kept going. Weller was silent, except for the occasional comment about their plans. Jane had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, and that was slightly terrifying.

The showers that had followed them on and off for the entire journey became an all-out deluge. Both were miserable and sore, but since they were both strong and tenacious, neither would surrender.

They were walking along a particularly precarious cliff when they started to feel the mud beneath their feet grow softer. Suddenly the ground just below Weller shifted, and he began to slip. Instinct made him reach for anything to grab onto, but to no avail. Just as his heart began to sink, knowing that, if he survived at all, this was really going to hurt, he saw Jane dive for the edge and abruptly catch his hands just as he fell over the edge. Above him, eyes frantic with concern, she held on with all she had. In spite of the injuries to her shoulders, her fatigue and his weight compared to hers, he could see by the look in her eye that she was not going to drop him. Through gritted teeth she assured him, "I've got you. And I'm not letting go."

Working together, they used all of their combined strength to pull him up and both dashed quickly along the mountain to a sturdier spot. They tripped and fell onto the firm, rocky ground, breathless with hearts pounding. Jane pulled his head to her shoulder, whimpering slightly when she realized her other arm wouldn't move, but she held onto him anyway. It didn't seem to matter how he felt about it, she was going to hold onto him with all of her power.

He actually didn't pull away, resting his cheek against her as he steadied his nerves. He lifted slightly, and found himself looking directly into her eyes. They were so close and, in spite of all of the reservations he had, he didn't back away. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other's breath.

A loud crack of thunder startled them just as the space between their lips became almost undetectable. He grabbed his sidearm from the holster and scanned the area to make sure it hadn't been a gunshot he'd heard. When he realized there weren't any immediate threats, he tucked away his sidearm. "Guess you're not the only one who's a little jumpy," he mumbled.

When he saw the strange way she held her arm, he realized that she'd dislocated her shoulder again while helping him. She was probably going to need surgery to repair the damage that had been done.

He reached forward, his hand slipping under her jacket to her shoulder as he helped put the joint back in place yet again. "You better be careful with that. Seems like you tore something in there," he noted.

"Yea," she replied, keeping her voice steady as she rubbed the sorest spot. "Thanks for popping that back."

He chuckled for a second, shaking his head and replied, "I figured I should at least do that, given that you just saved my life…again. So I think I should be thanking you."

"You rescued me. You think I'd let anything happen to you?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, deciding firmly, "No. I don't think you'd let anything happen to me. Not intentionally."

Thunder cracked again and the rain somehow managed to pour more fervently.

"Maybe we should actually make camp for the night," she suggested. They hadn't really stopped for more than a few hours since they'd left.

"Yea," he answered. "We've both earned some sleep."

After they found a good spot, he pulled the hiking pack from his shoulders and dropped it on the ground. A spot next to a rock formation would at least provide them shelter on one side. He yanked the small tent out of the bag and they set it up.

It took nearly an hour, but they were finally done. Jane rigged a few containers to catch rain water since their drinking water supply was getting low. When she was done, she swapped her clothes, stripping down to a tank top and a pair of swimming trunks she'd stolen from the garage they'd stayed in a few days earlier. She tried to use the pouring rain to clean some of the mud and grime from her clothes and body. She'd requested a few moments of privacy, but she was pleased that Weller seemed to trust her enough to stay in the tent. It was hardly the hot bathtub she wished she had, but at least it was something. She took her soaked but cleaned up clothes and strung them below a tarp that stretched from the tent so at least they'd dry a little.

She lowered down, unzipping the tent and crawling in. Kneeling because the tent was low, she straightened herself, walking on her knees, and practically ran into Weller. He was seated on an open bedroll, waiting for her to return. Her tank top was thin and white, practically see-through from the rain. She saw the way his eyes lingered, staring at her nipples as they jutted out against the fabric. He silently sighed while he involuntarily touched his tongue to his lower lip until he caught himself. He very intentionally averted his gaze, scratched the back of his neck and then crossed his arms as he managed, "I should—I should try to—uhh—I'm going to see if I can clean up my clothes, too."

"Yea, okay," she answered, sitting down next to him. There was little available space, so nearly every spot was right next to him. He grabbed the spare garments he had pilfered from the garage and quickly left the tent.

He wasn't out there very long. When he returned, Jane started to smirk, just a little, and he said, "What?" as he climbed back inside.

"Your clothes…that's…quite a look on you," she said, pointing at him. He wore a flannel shirt that was so small that there were gaps in the fabric between the buttons and a pair of jeans that were too large.

"I make anything look good," he actually joked back, with complete cockiness. "Even this twenty-year old secondhand crap that no one else would wear looks amazing on me. And you're one to talk. Are those swimming trunks? When I told my team I was going to Miami, that wasn't true. You do get that, right?"

She actually giggled a little until she saw Weller grow serious again, remembering exactly how screwed up their situation was.

Sitting side by side, they ate some of their rations, and Jane commented that they'd need to find a way to replenish their food since their supplies were shrinking. They'd passed a few homes during their travels, but all of them appeared to be occupied, and they didn't know who to trust. Besides that, they mostly sat in silence. They each had a bedroll that they'd taken and set them as far apart as they could in the tiny tent. Stretching out to sleep, even in such rudimentary accommodations, felt really relaxing after all of their travels.

They each lay flat on their backs, staring up at the top of the tent and hoping it wouldn't begin to leak. As tired as they were, neither fell asleep quickly. Jane rolled carefully onto her side, facing Weller and trying to squint through the darkness to see if his eyes were still open. "Kurt?" she whispered.

He turned quickly to her, initially staring without answering. It was the first time she'd used his given name since he pulled her out of the black site. He cleared his throat and after the pause whispered back, "Using my first name again. Must be serious."

"Sorry…Weller," she deflatedly corrected.

"You can use my first name, Jane," he said, facing the top of the tent as he sighed, "it just sounded weird to hear you say it again."

"I wish we could go back to being 'Kurt and Taylor.' Things were so much better then. You and I—we were—"

"But it was a lie. We were never Kurt and Taylor," he said, her name burning at the back of his throat as he remembered.

They returned to silence for so long that Jane thought he'd fallen asleep, and then he said, "I miss it too. I miss…the way things used to be with us. I just don't know if we can ever be that again."

"We can't be that, exactly," she answered quickly, "but we can be this. Maybe even a better version of this."

"You know, it was like losing her twice," he confessed, showing more vulnerable honesty than he had since he'd arrested her. "First when she was a girl. Then…I wanted so much to believe you were her. When I found out you weren't, it felt like she disappeared again. All of that hope and possibility. Gone."

"I really hoped I could be her. Not just for you. For me. I liked the way you protected her. The way you looked at her."

He almost laughed, "But I wasn't looking at her. I was looking at you."

"You thought I was her."

"The last time I saw her she was a child. Sure, that girl…she meant so much to me. I truly cared about her and losing her changed my whole life. But the woman I protected, the woman I got to know, the woman I looked at…that was you."

"Does that mean-" Jane began, a hint of optimism in her voice.

"I don't know. I—I'm tired," he replied, rolling away.

She listened to the rain, allowing the steadiness of it to distract her from the past and everything she was trying to figure out.

"You know the worst part?" he asked, still facing away.

"What's that?"

"I lost Taylor because I wasn't able to protect her. Then I thought I found her when you showed up only to lose her again when I found out that was all a lie. Then…I lost you when the CIA took you away. I couldn't even protect you in custody. Is it just me, or am I prone to losing the women I'm supposed to be looking out for?"

"Is that why you came to rescue me?"

"I just…had to find you."

Her clothes were soaked against her skin when she woke. She was sweating and trembling from whatever nightmare had haunted her sleep, but she felt cold at the same time. It was too bad that she and Weller weren't on friendly enough terms to climb under the same blanket. He certainly didn't suggest keeping each other warm before he passed out.

He was much closer to her when she woke, still not touching, but close enough that she could feel a little of his warmth. Every piece of her longed for him to reach out, take her hand and put it to his chest over his heart and reassure her that he still was there. She remembered the gesture like it was yesterday, even if it felt like it had happened lifetimes ago. It was amazing how much comfort that action had given her at the time. He had given her something to cling to in the midst of a freefall, and she desperately needed that again. She had no one else…she didn't even want to have anyone else.

She reached out to touch him, her hand trembling just a bit as it neared his heart, but it felt like too intimate a touch to impose on him while he slept. They'd helped soothe each other's physical wounds, but asking for emotional healing was entirely different. His arm was on the ground between them, bent at the elbow with his open palm facing up near her face. She inched just a little closer, resting her cheek in his hand and she felt the way his palm and fingers conformed to the curve of her face. She draped her fingers over his wrist in the hopes that he wouldn't pull his hand away. That gentle contact was the most pleasant feeling she'd had in such a long time. It felt like they were only bound together by the most tenuous thread, but she was going to hang on to that thread with everything she had. A tear slid down her face when she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.