This is my contribution to holidayblindspot and it's fall/autumn theme on Tumblr. Thanks to Indelible Evidence for giving me the nudge to write this and for my beta for her work.

Just a bit of Jeller angst and TLC. I saw a prompt some time ago about the main character coming home absolutely soaked to the bone or being unconscious on the street in a downpour, and it stuck with me, so I filed it away for future use, and here you go. And this might have been also influenced by one of my favorite X-Files scenes ever. I'm sure those of you who've watched TXF will quickly figure out the scene.

Anyhow, please let me know what you think.

Stranded

Jane was pacing the living room. She glanced out to the balcony, a chilly early November rain was beating on the panes of the glass doors. It had been raining almost for three days straight, and it wasn't supposed to clear up until tomorrow. The weather and darkness did nothing to improve her mood, only made the dread settle in further in her gut.

It was almost two days since they had last heard from Kurt. He had gone undercover with a militia cell, posing as an arms dealer, but he had missed his check-in time. At first Jane had told herself it was because he couldn't steal away long enough to check in. She knew how it could be undercover. As time ticked further and further from the last scheduled check, she told herself his comms must have malfunctioned. Finally, they had dispatched a strike team to the location, but there was no sign of the militia, or Kurt. "At least they didn't find a body."

She knew Kurt was far more than capable of holding his own, but she hated that he went undercover without her. It made her feel helpless, and to fear situations just like this. Not knowing where he was, if he was hurt, or even alive, was eating away at her. She was powerless to do anything. The FBI and the State Police were raiding the known locations of the militia, but so far they hadn't found Kurt or the men he was supposed to be meeting. The team had sent her home from the NYO a couple of hours ago to get some rest, promising to call her as soon as they had anything. She was probably getting on their nerves, but the inactivity was driving her crazy. She had asked if she could join one of the teams in the field, but Reade had made the good point that she would reach Kurt faster from the NYO than if she was in the field, and so she stayed in SIOC, monitoring what happened.

Jane sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly. She could feel the beginnings of a headache looming, and realized it must be dehydration. She'd managed to eat a salad at the NYO at Rich's prodding but she'd hardly drunk anything. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water, draining it in one go.

Hearing a faint knock at the door, she stamped down on the worst-case scenarios in her head. It could not be the State Police or someone from the NYO letting her know they had found Kurt's body. "The team would let you know if they heard something." She leaned her forehead against the door before gathering herself and opening it.

"Kurt!"

Her momentary elation was eclipsed by worry, as her husband practically collapsed against her, his larger frame nearly dead weight in her arms.

Her name escaped him, sounding like something between a groan and a plea.

Supporting his weight, Jane noticed he was soaked to the bone and shivering. He had a darkening bruise on his cheekbone, partially covered by the rough stubble. Steering him inside and nudging the door shut, she spoke quietly to him. "Let's get this jacket off you."

Removing the sodden article of clothing, she tossed it onto the barstool while supporting him. She brushed his cheek tenderly to wipe off some of the dirt stuck there, her alarm only growing when she noticed the heat radiating off his skin. "You're burning up!" She took in his disheveled appearance, noticing various nicks and cuts covering his face and neck, the exhaustion in his slightly slumped posture. "Kurt, what happened?"

"My cover was blown." He glanced at her before refocusing his attention on the balcony. "They somehow found out I was FBI."

His revelation made her blood turn cold. It was the worst-case scenario of any undercover operation.

"I managed to escape into the woods, but they almost caught me more than once."

Kurt managed to take a couple of faltering steps toward the couch, clearly intending to sit down.

"No, no." Jane grabbed his arm, speaking tenderly to him and pulling him close to her again. "Let's get you to bed. You need to rest, and we need to get you out of these wet clothes."

He protested, scanning his surroundings as he let her lead him into the bedroom. "No, I can't. I need to stay alert. They were able to track me almost the entire time that I was on the move, Jane."

She could feel the exhaustion in his body. Despite his protests, he was leaning heavily on her as they made their way to the bedroom. It was almost like hyper-vigilance and exhaustion were waging a battle in his body and his brain.

She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand she was holding, hoping to calm him. "I'll send the team a message, let them know you're here and ask Reade to post a detail out. Okay?"

He mumbled something unintelligible in reply. The dampness of his button-down shirt seeped into her clothes, and with every step Jane's concern grew. His clothes were dirty and sodden, telling their own sad story of the ordeal Kurt had lived through.

She guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, caressing his stubbly cheek for a moment, needing to reassure herself that he was there. He merely sat there: his eyes were glazed with fever, his shoulders slumped but tense. She could see the tremors in his body. "Need to get his temperature down."

Jane pressed her lips against his forehead lightly. "Take the wet clothes off, I'll get you something dry to put on."

As she went to Kurt's dresser to get him a dry pair of sweatpants to wear, she sent a message to the team, just as she promised. Kurt was still sitting on the bed, wearily pulling his jeans off. She heard him wince as he removed his shirt, and the reason for the sharp intake of breath became apparent as she rounded the bed: his side and his torso were covered in gruesome black and reddish bruises, no doubt hiding some broken ribs. Her heart broke at the sight. Those thugs had hurt him, they had beaten him badly before he had gotten away. Then he had spent almost a day exposed to the elements, with the militia chasing him. She could see him out there, injured and freezing as he tried to put distance between himself and his pursuers. She swallowed thickly, the anxiety tearing at her soul. "Oh, Kurt."

"Here, put these on." She gave him the article of clothing before going to the bathroom to fill a glass of water and get a painkiller for him. She also grabbed the washcloth, quickly wetting it under the sink, hoping it would ease his discomfort once she got him settled.

He dutifully pulled the sweatpants on, but his eyes kept scanning the darkness beyond the windows, and he was about to get up, just as Jane returned.

She put the glass on the bedside table, placing her hand on his shoulder, carefully stopping his movement. "Hey…no, no, no. Where are you going?" She inquired in a worried tone.

"I told you, the mil –." His over-exhausted mind began to answer, before she interrupted him softly.

"Kurt, you're home. You're safe." She told him, giving him an affectionate look as she guided him to lie down and sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"But th–" he argued tiredly.

Jane shook her head, feeling almost physical pain in her chest to see him like this. "They can't get to you." She caressed his bruised cheek tenderly. "Everything's okay."

She passed him the glass and the painkiller. "Take this, it'll help you feel better."

He took the medicine and sank back into the pillow, a weary sigh escaping him. His exhaustion was starting to win, but his eyes still held an anxious look.

"Shh…it's okay." She soothed him as she gingerly wiped some of the dirt off his face with the corner of the washcloth before placing it on his brow. "Right now, you need to rest."

Kurt closed his eyes, finally giving in.

"It's okay." Jane whispered as she kept running her hand through his hair. "Just rest."

Soon, his breathing evened as her tender touch lulled him to sleep. They had survived another close call, and she had Kurt safely by her side again.