A/N: This chapter and the next are a matched pair, I couldn't resist playing with some possible injuries and then it got longer than expected as usual...
Thanks Lurkingwhump for the prompt! Oh and I told someone that I'd do a happy chapter next, this is not it (haha). It should be coming next though :P
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He had spent so much of the night in emotional agony that Weller hadn't really noticed his ribs until he finally tucked Bethany's picture away and tried to get out of bed. It was at that point that he remembered the trip back from Finland, trying to ignore the growing soreness and stiffness in his torso.
He had told himself it was just a bruise, that the impact from fighting hadn't been hard enough to break anything. He even thought it had sounded convincing when he'd said it to Patterson in an attempt to keep her concern at bay. She already had enough to worry about with her dad's involvement, he didn't need to add anything to her load.
It wasn't until they were nearly back in Czechia that his torso began to stiffen up considerably, in a way that was all too familiar. For awhile Kurt had just told himself it wasn't as bad as it felt, that he'd gone through much worse. Yet by the time they got back to the bunker he'd nearly given into the realization that there was a break in there somewhere.
Of course, that fact had then been quickly overshadowed by the situation with the interrupted download, the decision to sever the connection. His emotions had already been so tightly wound, the physical pain had nudged him over the edge, leaving him desperate and irrational.
He'd stalked off after losing it on the team, sought out a place of emotional refuge. Tucked himself away in his bunk, trying to contain all his frustration and sadness. At least all that anger and sorrow had given him another brief reprieve from the feeling in his ribs; his crushed heart hurting more than any broken bone. But it had only lasted until Jane came in to talk to him, helped settle his overactive emotions.
Once she left he'd put the picture back in its place, tried to push himself upright and then immediately regretted his attempt as his body screamed and all the air got jammed in his lungs for a long painful moment.
It seemed like forever, lying there with his rib muscles seizing, holding his breath. A guttural moan escaped and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to contain the ache.
Weller clenched his jaw, told himself to pull it together, get things back under control before anyone heard him groaning pathetically. Everyone had bigger problems than sore ribs, he told himself. There was no need to advertise his injury and cause anyone more concern, especially his wife, who was already under a lot of pressure.
So he did his best to just lay still, take shallow breaths as the ache intensified over time, grew into a frustratingly familiar pain. Of course it was the same ribs, the ones that had barely healed from the explosion at the cabin. So he knew exactly what he was in for; the lack of sleep, the difficulty breathing, the struggle of putting on his own socks.
Kurt sighed, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Time passed and the lights went off but he still couldn't move, not even to take a painkiller. He felt frozen in place, his arms clasped around his chest. Desperate for relief but too proud to make any noise, ask for help.
He was just wondering what he should do if Jane came back to check on him when he heard footsteps approaching, was forced to make up his mind right away.
She walked into the bunk room and approached his bed quietly, sitting down on the edge to lean over him. At first she didn't say anything, just reached for his fingertips, unwound his arms so his ribs were exposed. Then she drifted her hand across his sternum, placed her hand lightly on the worst of his pain before finally asking if he was okay.
It was a trick question, he knew. She had likely already figured out the problem. And yet he still felt obligated to suck it up, not rely on her too much for comfort.
Weller paused, tried to nod as convincingly as possible.
"Just a little sore," he said.
Jane took her hand off of his chest and reached for his hand instead, tucking her fingers into his and pulling at him gently.
"Come with me," she said.
Part of him still thought that he should protest, continue the charade. But then he didn't hesitate much before getting up to follow her, just enough to gather the strength he needed to grind his jaw and push himself out of bed.
Kurt had no idea what she had planned but it felt like such a relief to let her take over. His ribs really fucking hurt, despite how much he wanted to deny it. And he knew she would make him feel better, no matter how he ached.
So he followed her lead, as he always did.
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It was late when Patterson walked by with tears in her eyes after listening to her dad's recording. Jane bit her lip, wondering if she should say something when Patterson stopped and frowned a bit.
"I meant to tell you," she said. "I think Weller might have hurt himself in that fight. I asked him and he said it was just a bruise but he kept making that face all the way back."
Jane sighed, knew exactly the expression Patterson meant. The stern grimacing one he wore when something hurt and he was trying to ignore it. And now, thinking back, he had hugged her fairly gingerly upon returning. She just hadn't noticed it at the time with everything going on.
"Okay, I'll check on him," Jane said. "Thanks, Patterson."
Patterson gave her a tired smile and then headed towards the shower while Jane got up and made her way to the bunks, cursing herself for not having physically checked on him earlier.
The lights were off in the bunk room but once her eyes adjusted to the dark Jane could tell that her husband was in bed but not sleeping, still lying half propped up on his meagre pillow supply, holding himself around his torso.
She sat on the edge of his bunk and silently uncrossed his arms; then ghosted her hand over the centre of his chest, felt him tense as she gently laid her palm on his ribcage. He seemed a bit too warm through the thin cotton of his shirt, making her stomach clench.
"Are you okay?" she asked, barely audible.
Weller hesitated for a telltale moment, then nodded sincerely.
"Just a little sore," he grumbled.
Jane took her hand off his chest and sought out his hand; entwined her fingers with his when she found it.
"Come with me," she said, tugging him lightly.
Kurt obeyed pliantly, might have hidden his stiffness from her if she hadn't been peering into the dark at him carefully. But she could see it now that she was looking, was annoyed with herself for not having checked on him earlier.
She pulled him out of the bunks and into a storage closet, flicking on the light to find her husband looking at her in confusion.
Jane stood in front of him, just an arm's length away and reached for the hem of his t shirt. She could see Kurt go through the possibilities in his own mind, felt his hands intercept hers.
"Let me see," she said, her voice coming out tired and worried.
Weller sighed, gave her an irritated look as he very gingerly removed his shirt under her stern supervision.
"It looks worse than it is," he muttered, his bare chest not only red and swollen but covered in lurid bruises as well.
Jane inhaled a long breath, told herself not to explode with the flurry of emotions that always hit when someone hurt him. Anger, guilt and sorrow weren't going to help her at that moment, would only make Kurt more defensive about what happened.
"It looks like you broke those same ribs again," she finally said, as evenly as she could manage. "Probably because they were barely healed from last time."
It was still hard to think about the explosion, the aftermath. Even touching the thought made her insides go ice cold, her heart freeze. So Jane pulled her thoughts back to the present and found her hands already reaching for him.
He didn't resist as she placed her palm on his sternum with a light pressure but as she slowly ran her hand down his ribcage she could feel him tense up again. She was barely touching him, her hand hovering above the ribs he'd shattered in the drone attack when Weller emitted a grunt.
"Oh Kurt, that looks so painful," she said, placing her hand supportively under his ribs.
He tensed for a moment and then relaxed a bit into her touch, though his breath was still a little shaky.
"It feels better now," he mumbled.
She could hear the eyebrow lift in his pained voice as she examined his swollen torso, laughed to herself at his incorrigibility. But she wasn't about to let him off that easy, not when she was that upset from examining his broken body.
Jane stepped back, peeled her hand off of his skin; looked up at him with a belly heavy with gloom and full of fire.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.
Kurt skirted his gaze past hers, then brought it back a moment later. His eyes were flooded with emotion, the blue of his irises sharp and shiny despite the dim lighting.
"You have enough to worry about," he said, his tone tired and defeated.
There were, indeed, more than enough things that kept her up at night, filled her days with anxiety. Yet the idea that he was lying there hurting with her just in the other room, that ate at her heart.
"You can't do that," she choked out, barely audible.
Weller furrowed his brow, his eyes suddenly coating her with soft concern.
"What?" he asked.
Jane exhaled, shook her head at his obtuseness. He lost his mind whenever she tried to downgrade small hurts in an attempt to ward off his adorable but overbearing worry.
"Hide things from me, not tell me when you're hurt," she said. "You can hide it from everyone else if you want. But I'm your wife, Kurt, I need to know."
Her voiced betrayed her attempt to tamp down her emotion, got all crackly at the end. He looked at her in alarm when it happened, snapped to attention at the expression she was wearing.
"Okay, okay," he said, rather sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Jane nodded to acknowledge receipt of his apology and promise, then couldn't keep her hands off of him for another moment.
"Now come here," she said, pulling him a step closer as she took a small tube out of her pocket.
Jane dabbed the cream on her fingertips, then smoothed it over him, touching him extremely lightly over his injured ribs. She was about halfway through rubbing the ointment into his skin when Kurt reached over to lift her hand to his nose before returning it to its spot on his chest.
"Where did you even find that?" he asked, exhaling with satisfaction as she gently covered him in the peculiarly scented herbal muscle rub that had gotten them through many painful days back at home.
"Girl's gotta have some secrets," she replied into his ear, wearing just the hint of a grin.
She finished covering him with the anti-inflammatory cream, gave him a few extra caresses before bending down to place a kiss against the worst of the bruising.
"I'm sorry I didn't check on you earlier," she whispered against his skin. "I didn't realize were hurt."
"It's not that bad," Kurt muttered again even though it was obvious he'd re-broken his ribs and she could see the agony in his eyes.
Jane sighed, didn't bother to argue the point. Instead she helped him get his shirt back on and led him out of the closet, then back to her bunk.
When he tried to pull away and go to his own bed she silently insisted, tugging him until he acquiesced and lay down in her lap, his head and torso resting against her chest.
Jane folded her arms around her husband lightly, kissed him on top of his head. So many things could have gone wrong in Helsinki, they were lucky to have gotten away as clean as they did. And yet Madeline's goons had hurt him, which made her both sad and furious as she cradled him to her, felt his broken chest rise and fall with each breath.
The bunk was much too small for both of them but she loved the feeling of Kurt lying against her, her own personal weighted blanket. It was unlikely she was going to sleep much anyhow, all her nights now plagued by dreams in which everyone she loves dies. So at least she could wrap him up in her arms and try to soothe away his hurts, help him get some rest.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Kurt settled deeper into her grasp and exhaled with satisfaction.
"Are you comfortable?" she asked.
Kurt murmured his assent, made a little relaxed grunt that warmed her right to the core. Bringing one hand up to his head, she started running her fingers through his hair while her other arm remained wrapped around him, supporting his sore ribs.
Again he hummed with satisfaction and Jane grinned to herself. He was close to sleep, she could feel it in the slowing rise and fall of his chest.
"That's it, you rest," she whispered into his hair. "I'm right here, Kurt. Everything's going to be okay."