Author's Note: Sorry for the delay updating this one! I got carried away with my other WIPs, and then it was almost NaNoWriMo, so I decided to make this fic my NaNo project. So I'll be focusing almost exclusively on this fic until I finish it now, unless for some reason it drags on into December!

"Why Jake Keaton?" Kurt paced around her, holding a cattle prod and looking detached, impatient, with none of the love he usually showed. "I'm sick of going through this over and over without any answers, Jane. Why Keaton?"

With sickening clarity, Jane somehow knew that Jake Keaton's name was tattooed on her back. The thought made her sick to her stomach, almost as much as how dispassionately Kurt was regarding her.

"I had to make sure he wasn't going to bring me back here," she protested. "Why did you bring me back here, Kurt? I thought you understood!"

"You killed him. You're a murderer and a terrorist, and this is exactly what you deserve, Jane Doe." Kurt raised the cattle prod, the business end sparking ominously.

"He's dead? No, I didn't mean to! He was alive when I left him!"

Kurt pulled open a curtain at the other end of the room. Bodies were stacked in a heap—Keaton, Mayfair, Oscar, Taylor Shaw, Caruso. All of them were somehow staring straight at her, both blank and accusing at once. As she struggled against the handcuffs that tethered her to the hot water pipe, Kurt zapped her with the prod, and—

Jane flailed into disorienting wakefulness. Why was there something wet and cold in her lap? What the—?

"It's okay, sis. It's just me."

Jane had picked up her sidearm before she registered the words, levelling it in the direction of the voice. Then she blinked into the gloom, and fumbled for the switch to turn on her bedside lamp. "Roman? What are you doing here?"

As she put her gun back on the nightstand, he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking worried. "I heard about what happened with Keaton. Thought you might need help waking up."

It took Jane a second to process his words; she was too busy identifying the wet, cold object in her lap as a washcloth that was soaking her bed linen. She threw it on the floor before replying, "It happened in Bulgaria. How could you know about that before I told you?"

"We have people in a lot of countries." Roman sighed. "He attacked you?"

"No. I attacked him."

Roman raised his eyebrows a little, waiting for more.

Fighting to shed the dread her dream had left her with, Jane attempted to put her thoughts in order. How could she best use what had happened to make it go over well with Shepherd?

"I saw him before he saw me, and the rest of the team were occupied in a shoot-out, so I went after him. I managed to get him into one of the apartments, and I tied him up." Her shudder was completely unfeigned as she confessed, "I guess I panicked with the PTSD, and the fight-or-flight response got a little too much to handle. But please don't tell Shepherd that. She already thinks I'm weak."

Roman's expression was completely understanding. "Hey, when arachnophobes see spiders, sometimes they run away; sometimes they run forward and squish 'em. You squished Keaton."

"Part of me wishes I squished him. I just…trapped him under a glass, I guess." Remembering Keaton's sarcasm in the face of her rage and pain, she balled her hands into fists. "And then hit him a little."

"Just hit him? I would have done everything he'd done to me right back to him," Roman said.

"I didn't have time. Or an electroshock machine. The FBI were right downstairs, too. I was tempted, though." She leaned back against her headboard, shoving her hands through her tousled, sweat-soaked hair. "I did put the fear of God into him before Weller showed up, though."

Beneath the blanket, she crossed her fingers at the little white lie. Keaton hadn't been nearly as afraid of her as she'd been of him.

"I thought about killing him, but it wouldn't have solved anything. Just like when Carter died and Keaton stepped up to take his place, there'd be someone else to replace Keaton who might be just as bad, or worse. So I made him think about who the real monsters were, and how they got made."

"That's smart. I think Shepherd will like that, for what it's worth. We need Keaton for phase two, anyway. Shepherd was on the fence about cutting him out of the plan, but this will make her happy."

Jane blinked. "You need Keaton for phase two? Why?"

"Well, more like afterwards. For damage control. But I can't tell you more than that, you know I can't." Roman sighed.

"Sorry. I just… It's frustrating being out of the loop." Roman's words had reminded her of something she'd wanted to ask, though. "I do have a theory. I know you can't tell me, but maybe you can let me know if I'm in the ballpark?"

Roman shifted on the bed. "It depends what it is. You can tell me, though."

"I think there's a phase three. I know you said phase two is gonna be a complete reset, but what happens after everything is reset? Shepherd doesn't seem like the type to just destroy things. She wants to change them, so maybe Keaton…and Weller…are part of that?"

His eyes narrowed slightly before flat refusal crossed his face. "I can't tell you anything except that you're right about Shepherd. She's not a terrorist; she's a reformer."

Jane nodded, pretending she didn't think that was complete bullshit. "Okay. That makes sense. Thanks."

He rolled his eyes. "Even when you've just woken up from horrific nightmares, you still don't give up, do you?"

"Guess not." Reminded of her dream again, she swallowed hard.

Roman put a hand on her shoulder. "Think you can go back to sleep?"

Jane gave a thin smile. "For about an hour, before I have hours of awful dreams and then wake myself up freaking out. It…it feels worse this time. Worse than before Bulgaria, I mean."

He sighed. "Want me to stay? I can cut down those hours to a few minutes and wake you up."

It was tempting, but even though her brother was actively plotting terrorism, she couldn't help but be concerned for Shepherd's potential reaction to his help. Plus, she was supposed to be worried about the FBI detecting that she was a mole. "The more time you spend around me, the higher your risk of exposing both of us. How am I supposed to explain who you are if one of the team catches sight of you? And what about Shepherd? Does she even know you're here?"

"No," Roman confessed, after a moment. "But, Remi, I've seen you sleep-deprived from PTSD before. Last time Shepherd made me stop waking you, you were a mess after a week; really off your stride. Your reaction times were down; your aim was off; you kept jumping at shadows… And these tattoo cases are dangerous. You need to be at the top of your game, or they might get a lucky shot in and you'll just be gone."

"Really? I've been that bad?" She wished she could remember, so she could compare Remi's PTSD to her current state. She rubbed her hands across her face, trying to buy some time to think how to turn this to her advantage. Did she dare bring up starting a relationship with Kurt so soon after Cade's escape? It hadn't even been a week since she'd last been at Shepherd's compound.

"Yeah. It wasn't great," he said softly.

"Okay," she whispered, nerves fluttering in her stomach. "Um… I could see if Weller will let me move in with him for a while. Oscar told me the plan was to, um, start sleeping with him, but Weller was seeing someone at the time, so I told him I wasn't gonna break them up."

"And then you started sleeping with Oscar again," Roman filled in, rolling his eyes.

"Did he tell you that?" For some reason, the idea of her ex-fiancé bragging that he was sleeping with her again stung.

"Nah. But it was pretty obvious. He went from sulky and broody and emo to having a spring in his step. You'd told him you'd be sleeping with Weller, and he didn't like it, but he accepted it. When he realised you were nixing that part of the plan, it was like Christmas for him."

Jane made herself look more conflicted than she felt. "You're really not making this easier, Roman."

He winced. "Sorry. I didn't think about it like that."

Jane sighed. "I thought after Weller learned I wasn't Taylor, that'd be that, but he's started seeming interested in being more than friends again recently. I think I could be in his bed within a couple of weeks, especially since he feels so guilty about Keaton taking me from CIA custody."

It felt disloyal to be talking about Kurt this way, but she was undercover. She had to make it seem like she saw him as a target.

Roman nodded. "Okay. Shepherd will be glad to hear that, too. Just make sure he keeps waking you up. You need as much sleep as you can get right now, especially if you start having flashbacks."

"I know." She looked over at him with trepidation. "Do you think Oscar would understand?"

He rolled his eyes. "Remi, if you could remember the way you used to be, you wouldn't even ask me that. You were the one who called the shots in your relationship. Oscar would do anything for you, even stand back while you slept with a Fed."

"For the good of the mission," Jane murmured, remembering the resigned look on Oscar's face as she'd handed him back her engagement ring.

"Exactly." Roman shrugged. "He'd understand."

"Thanks," she said, trying not to show her revulsion at the way Remi must have manipulated Oscar. "That helps a little."

"You sure you don't want me to stay the rest of tonight?" Roman asked, getting up as though he already knew the answer.

"No, I'll manage. You should go, before Shepherd realises you're not there." She hesitated, then asked, "You don't want to know any of the details about what happened in Bulgaria?"

"Like I said, we have people there. We know what happened with Winter."

Jane nodded, hoping she didn't look as though a puzzle piece was clicking into place in her mind. "Okay, no problem."

"I'll be in touch." Roman hesitated a moment longer, then left her room. A few moments later, she heard the door to her safehouse open and shut, and was left to contemplate the wadded-up washcloth Roman had used to wake her, still soaking through her bedroom rug.

Kurt had been awake for around twenty minutes when he got up to grab a glass of water, giving up on dropping back to sleep for the moment. He'd contemplated texting Jane, to see if she was okay and not suffering too much with nightmares, but he didn't want to wake her if she was in the middle of a period of restful sleep.

When he returned from the kitchen, his 'burner phone', as he and Jane had jokingly named it, was flashing with an unread message.

I think the mercs in Bulgaria were Sandstorm.

Frowning, he thought it over. Why would Sandstorm want Winter? For what purpose? Other international agencies, sure, but terrorists? It made no sense, but he'd see what Nas thought of it tomorrow. For now, he hit the speed-dial shortcut to call Jane's burner.

"Hey," she said, sounding surprised. "Did I wake you with my text?"

"I was already awake," he reassured her. "What makes you think Sandstorm wanted Winter?"

She explained what had happened to her that night, while Kurt tried not to overreact to the way Roman had so casually managed to get into her bedroom while she slept. If he'd wanted her dead, she'd already be dead.

"Maybe Winter would know," he suggested, once she'd filled him in on her theory. "We can ask him tomorrow."

"Sounds like fun," Jane said, in a voice that implied anything but.

Kurt grinned, glad to hear her sounding a little more like herself. She'd been subdued since the incident with Keaton, and the flight back to the States from Bulgaria hadn't helped her composure.

"I do have some good news, though. Roman was worried about my fitness in the field if I didn't have anyone to wake me from my nightmares, so I suggested I could move in with you and get back on track seducing you. He told me to go for it."

A knot of tension loosened in Kurt's chest. Anything that meant Jane wouldn't have to suffer alone was welcome news, but the idea of having her close by every night, not having to pretend they weren't together… "Want me to come get you now?" he offered.

Jane hesitated, then sighed. "As much as I want to say yes, it's a little too risky. If Roman had someone watch over me…"

"I know." He'd known it was a bad idea when he'd brought it up, but her nightmares in the Bulgarian hotel had been so severe that he'd had to fend off a visit from an angry tourist in the next room, after she'd woken him—and Kurt—with her yelling four times in a row. It hurt to think of her frightened and alone when he might be able to help.

"Tomorrow, after work, I'll come home with you—unless I get a Sandstorm summons. I promise."

"Gonna hold you to that."

"I might not be a fun houseguest," she warned him, her voice sad.

"I just want to be there for you. Fun or not. If you just need to go back to lying in bed for a few days and shutting me out, I'll understand."

"I don't want that." She paused. "But I…don't know if I'll be in the mood for anything more than sleeping."

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed, but it was what he'd expected, given that she'd just battled through a reminder of her initial trauma. "No expectations, I swear."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Get some more sleep, if you can. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

"Night, Jane. I love you."

But she'd already hung up.