Author's Note: Post-traumatic Jane doesn't make the best decisions. Luckily, Kurt is around to help.
Kurt didn't recognise the number that flashed up on his cell phone's screen, but he figured that since he had a couple of minutes until Pellington arrived for their meeting, he might as well take the call. "Hello?"
"Is that Mr. Weller?" a hesitant male voice asked on the other end of the line, and Kurt smothered his impatience. This was probably a cold caller, but they had a job to do like everyone else, so he'd at least let the guy tell him why he was calling.
"Yeah. What can I do for you?"
"I'm, um… I'm really sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm calling about Jane Doe, your girlfriend? At least, I think she's your girlfriend from the way you guys act, but I don't want to presume—"
Kurt was immediately on his feet, all thoughts of his impending meeting gone. "She okay?"
"That's the thing," the guy said apologetically. "My name is James, and I work at New York Fitness and Training—the gym you guys are members of? Part of my job is to keep an eye out for anyone using the equipment incorrectly or overdoing it, or basically putting themselves at risk."
Kurt closed his eyes, concerned, but not surprised. "And Jane is?"
"Yeah. She's been working out like a demon for over two and a half hours now. She's starting to stumble on the treadmill, her arms are shaking when she uses the rowing machine or bench press—she's gonna injure herself if she doesn't stop soon. I've tried to talk to her, but she gave me this…this look, like if I didn't leave her alone she'd attack me or something. I'm not saying I feared for my life, but…"
Oh, Jane… Kurt sighed. "Okay. I don't suppose you noticed if she happens to have her phone with her?"
"Hang on." There was a brief pause, then James came back on the line. "I can't see a phone anywhere near her."
"I'll come and get her. Thanks for calling me. Really."
"No problem, Mr. Weller. I just want her to be safe. She's been fitness inspiration to a lot of people since she started coming in. It'd be awful if she hurt herself."
"I'll be there soon."
Kurt put down his cell phone and grabbed his jacket and keys, mentally calculating how long it would take to drive back to Brooklyn just before rush hour hit.
"You look like you're planning to leave the building instead of helping me with this conference call, Agent Weller." Pellington stood in the doorway, one eyebrow arched. It was obvious he wanted an explanation, and Kurt braced himself for the inevitable argument.
"Sir, I know that this is an important call, but I just got another important call, from my local gym. Jane Doe is putting herself in danger of injury right now, and she needs someone she trusts to talk her down, before—"
"Before she does something else to jeopardise the entire Sandstorm operation. I see." Pellington folded his arms across his chest. "She's a big girl and she can make her own judgments about her health and physical capabilities. We're still handling the international incident her terrorist group helped to make in Bulgaria, and the commissioner of the authorities in Sofia is expecting you to be on this call."
In disbelief, Kurt stared at his superior. "Sir, she has PTSD. She needs help recognising her limits right now."
"Send Dr. Borden."
"Borden is in Arizona until Monday," Kurt told him. Borden had offered to cancel his trip if Jane needed him, but she'd told him she'd be fine. "And Jane doesn't have her phone on her, so I can't get him to call her."
"I understand that you're worried for your...asset," Pellington said, his emphasis making it clear he suspected Jane was far more than an asset to Kurt, "but this meeting is of utmost importance. Pushing it back or cancelling it could have far-reaching political consequences."
"Then don't push it back or cancel it. But with all due respect, sir, I'm leaving this building now. If Jane injures herself again, the physical trauma could make her emotional trauma a lot worse. Her functionality in combat is very important to her, and if she relapses, we could lose our only lead. We need her as stable as possible while she's undercover. She's making inroads with Sandstorm and she could be in a position to find out about what they're planning any day now. I know that if Nas Kamal were here right now, she'd agree with me."
"It's out of the question," Pellington snapped. "I want you in that conference room in two minutes, Agent Weller."
He turned to leave, but Kurt was at the end of his tether, his worry about Jane and frustration with the Bulgaria situation making him reckless. "Sir, you're gonna have to handle this one without me, because in the interests of national security and common decency, I'm going to help Jane. If you don't like it, you can take my badge."
"Oh, you're skating on thin ice there, son," Pellington said, his voice gravelly and dangerous. "Don't think that I won't."
"One of the only things we do know about Shepherd's plan is that she wants me in Mayfair's chair, and she's been watching me since I was a teenager. Removing me from this investigation takes away that puzzle piece. So if you'll excuse me, Director Pellington…" Kurt stood his ground, hoping he wasn't about to lose everything by overestimating his importance to his boss.
Pellington stared him out for another couple of seconds, then sighed. "You're damn lucky you're my best agent, Weller. Fine. Go. But if you throw your weight around like this in the future, I will end your career in law enforcement with one stroke of a pen."
He turned and stalked out, leaving Kurt momentarily stunned by his victory. Then he remembered why he'd put his badge on the line in the first place, and he headed for the elevator as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog.
Jane, I'm on my way.
The only thing that made Jane feel like her pre-trauma self, these days, was working out.
It had been over a week since she'd moved in with Kurt, and all she seemed to do was wake him with her nightmares. Every night, she offered to go back to her safehouse and leave him to sleep, and every night, he insisted that she didn't need to. He was patient and understanding and supportive, but she still worried that the lack of sleep would take a toll on him, and maybe even strain their relationship.
She wouldn't be able to bear losing him. Not on top of everything she'd already lost.
He and Nas had both made her take the day off work today—to 'rest', whatever that meant to someone who didn't get to sleep more than a couple of hours before being woken by horrifying nightmares. So after spending the morning doing nothing and feeling useless and sleepy, she'd headed for the gym.
Breathing hard, her arms and legs trembling a little, she finished up on the rowing machine for the third time, then looked around to figure out which piece of equipment to use next. By the door in the corner, the guy who'd tried to tell her she was overdoing it was still lurking, his worried eyes on her. She turned her back on him, irritated, then felt bad for her attitude. He was only doing his job, but he didn't understand that she needed this.
At least her fitness was something she could take control of and revel in. If there was one thing she was thankful to Remi for, it was that she'd come out of the bag in peak physical condition. When she'd still been trying to figure out who she was, knowing that she was fit, strong and able to defend herself had been a huge comfort to her. Now that her black site injuries were healed, she'd been training every day to get her muscles back to their former strength. She was nearly there, and when she no longer felt the limitations her captivity had placed on her, maybe she could finally stop replaying memories of her torture in her mind, over and over.
She moved over to the soft mats, as far away from the watchful gym staff member as possible, and did a few stretches before heading back to the bench press equipment. No one had touched it since her last set, so she added five pounds to the weight—to challenge herself—and lay down, taking a moment to stretch out her arms before closing her hands around the barbell.
She was just about to lift when someone leaned all their weight on the bar above her head, preventing her from raising it off the notch. "Jane, stop."
For a split second, incandescent rage flared through her. How dare some random guy interrupt her workout?
Then she registered Kurt's voice and her fury drained away, replaced by confusion. She sat up, taking in his anxious expression and the fact that he was still in his work clothes. "Kurt? What's wrong? Do you need me at work?"
"No. I came here to stop you from hurting your arm again." He checked her weights. "A hundred and thirty pounds? Jane, do you even weigh that much?"
"Before the black site, I used to be able to lift one-thirty-five." Still confused, she tried to stand up, but her knees wouldn't support her all of a sudden, and she landed hard back on the bench.
Kurt sat beside her, taking her hand. "I got a call from someone here, saying he was worried you were pushing too hard and you wouldn't listen to him."
Jane turned to scowl at the guy who'd tried to warn her to stop earlier, but he was nowhere to be seen. "What? He has no idea what he's talking about. I can't believe he—"
"Jane." Kurt's voice was gentle, but firm. "You can't even stand up right now. You're shaking like a leaf. The sign-in sheet said you've been here more than three hours. I'm glad he called me, because you were two seconds away from straining or tearing a muscle when I walked in here."
She shook her head. "I know you're worried, but that's an exaggeration. I was fine until you stopped me." Why did you have to stop me? I need to be stronger. I need to keep moving, or I'll start remembering again.
"Hey." He tilted up her chin, made her look directly into his face. "I know you want to get back to how you were before, but you can't rush it. What happens if you tear your rotator cuff again? You know how long it took to heal before. Imagine not being able to work out at all while you deal with all the demons in your head."
Jane shuddered just at the thought of it. That just seemed to make her tremble more, and her muscles were beginning to ache as her exercise-induced endorphin rush faded.
"Okay. I'll stop." It felt like a defeat, though her logical side told her he was in the right. "I… I'm sorry you had to leave work for this. You should get back."
Kurt helped her to her feet. "I'm coming home with you. Don't get changed or shower now—you'll need to soak those muscles at home. Need someone to grab your stuff from your locker?"
Jane shook her head, embarrassed. "I think I've already interacted with the gym staff enough today. I'll be right back."
Her legs felt like rubber as she crossed the room, and she shivered a little as she passed under the air conditioning vent in the ceiling, the sweat soaking her clothes now cold enough to cause discomfort. She had to take a moment to lean against her locker, gathering her strength, but not sitting down because she knew she wouldn't get up again.
As she and Kurt passed the front desk, where the well-meaning gym employee was now stationed, she couldn't bring herself to look in his direction. Later, she'd have to apologise to him, since the way she'd treated him had been out of line, but for now, she just needed to get out of here.
Kurt thanked the guy quietly as they reached the door, and Jane wondered if her humiliation showed as keenly as she felt it.
By the time they reached the apartment, she was holding back tears, self-loathing taking centre stage in her mind. God, Kurt had come to get her like she was a naughty kid being suspended from school. What had she been thinking? She could have jeopardised the whole Sandstorm operation if she'd injured herself again, because she would have fallen apart.
While she sat down on the couch, Kurt grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and came to crouch in front of her, his concern obvious. "Talk to me, Jane."
"How can you even stand the sight of me?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Kurt twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it over, then said, "You're not thinking straight right now. It's the PTSD. I'm not blaming you for any of this."
Jane drank a little water, then drained half the bottle, suddenly realising how thirsty she was. Kurt gave a small smile and sat beside her on the couch.
"I feel so stupid. How could I be so out of touch with my body's signals?"
"Not your fault."
"But you had to come home early, and—"
"Still not your fault."
She barely registered his words, fear overtaking her. "Kurt, I'm so scared of screwing this up."
"This?" he asked softly.
She'd meant her relationship with him, but as she thought about it, she realised it wasn't the only thing. "Everything. Us. The Sandstorm mission. The tattoo cases. Getting better." Overwhelmed, she shook her head. "When I was in the black site, I had nothing left to lose. But now I have everything to lose if I can't keep it together."
"I'm right here, Jane. Every step of the way, you have me to lean on."
"Thank you," she murmured, chancing a glance up into his face. The love and concern she found there lifted her spirits, but also made her feel unworthy.
"Did you eat lunch?" he asked, the change of subject confusing her for an instant.
"Yeah." At least that was one area she hadn't failed in today.
Kurt nodded. "Okay. It's still way too early for dinner, so here's what I want to do. I'm gonna run you a bath…"
Jane couldn't help but laugh a little, amused by his insistence that she take long, hot bubble baths lately. Not that she minded—she never would have taken the time to do something so self-indulgent if she had to take the initiative to do it herself, but she did enjoy soaking in the tub—but…
Kurt cocked his head. "What?"
"Just finding it funny that you keep throwing me in the bathtub," she teased, trying to lighten both of their moods.
Understanding crossing his features, he shrugged and smiled. "Usually, because you need to relax. Today, it's because you overdid it, and the heat will help reduce the soreness."
"I know." She leaned in and kissed his jaw affectionately.
"Then, after your bath, I'll give you a massage." He grinned as her eyebrows shot up. "Doesn't have to be that kind of massage. It's up to you. I just think it'll do your muscles good."
Despite how negative her emotions had been today, Jane couldn't help but wonder what that kind of massage was like. Her physical therapist had given her injured arm and shoulder massages as part of her treatment, but they had been mostly agonising. Her only other experience was massaging her own tired or stiff muscles. Something told her that having Kurt massage her would be a completely different experience.
They hadn't done more than cuddle since they'd gotten back from Bulgaria. Jane hadn't been in the right mindset to even consider sex, and Kurt hadn't pushed. Part of her had missed the intimacy, but part of her had been so exhausted that orgasms seemed like too much effort.
"No promises for today. It depends how much my body hates me after that workout. But sign me up for that kind of massage"—she echoed his emphasis—"sometime soon."
Kurt gave her a quick kiss. "No pressure, no expectations, okay? Let me go run your bath."
"Kurt?" she said softly, as he got to his feet.
He paused, all of his attention on her.
"Thank you. For taking care of me."
He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "Thank you for letting me."
While he was gone, Jane took off her running shoes, pondering that response. She hadn't considered that he thought she was doing him a favour by letting him take care of her, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Kurt had a strong protective instinct, and by shutting him out, she wasn't relieving his burden—she was increasing it.
Maybe she should talk to him about her nightmares more often, if it would make him feel better. But that was something to consider when she didn't feel quite so shaky and fatigued.
For now, she just wanted to lounge in the bath. And maybe even that kind of massage.