They were reading through the files on the RFID chip when he first saw it. After that, it was hard to keep his mind on the information he was sifting through, his eyes magnetized to her even more strongly than usual.
She was making a valiant effort at reading through the files, squinting at the laptop as if she were intently concentrating. But Weller could see the tension in her body, how stiffly she was holding her neck and shoulders, and he cursed to himself as worry flooded through his system.
"Hey," he said quietly.
Jane looked up with a furrow in her brow, a healthy amount of irritation.
Weller felt trapped, knew he was doomed either way. If he asked what he wanted, it would likely lead to some sort of argument. And if he didn't, it would eat at him until it caused an issue between them anyhow.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, wincing to himself even as he said the words.
He watched as she sorted through the options in her mind, saw her bite back the reflexive denial. That made him feel a bit better, loosened up the tension in his neck just a little as he waited for her to answer.
"It's hard to read in this light," Jane finally said. "It's making my head hurt a bit."
She'd been thrown hard enough against the wall to be knocked out but of course it was just the bad lighting that was the problem. Kurt cursed to himself, upset that he hadn't checked on her earlier. But she hadn't appeared to be injured in the immediate aftermath of the incident, had even made the pinpoint shot to save Tasha from the terrorist. So he'd let his guard down, let himself believe that she was fine. Right up to the point where he saw her making that pained expression he'd already seen far too often in his life. The one that said her head was in agony but she was trying to convince herself otherwise.
It was obvious to him now, he could see it in the set of her jaw, the stiffness of her movements. The way she stopped glancing over at him, shrunk into herself instead. But it had taken him awhile to figure it out, even in those days when he'd been watching her so intently for symptoms.
Back then, when he'd realized that he'd been letting her suffer alone for months, Weller had been extremely upset with himself, overloaded with shame. But when he'd finally figured out that her brain had flipped, her personality switched, it had removed a lot of his latent guilt, all that wondering about why she'd hidden her pain from him.
Since then he hadn't had much opportunity to think through what had happened and really, he'd just wanted to put it all behind him, forget that he'd been fooled by Remi for months, that he'd almost lost Jane twice. But seeing that tightness in her shoulders, the strain in her forehead. It brought it all back unexpectedly, anxiety suddenly shooting straight up his spine.
Kurt frowned, saw that Jane had gone back to working through the files when he'd gotten lost in his thoughts. The burn in his belly wanted him to lose it at her, accuse her of lying. But there was a good chance she was in denial too, trying to convince herself that she was fine.
He debated starting the argument that was sure to come by telling her that she likely had a concussion, should stop making things worse by working on a computer. But he could see from the set of her jaw that any word of his concern would just make her more tense; so he did his best to bite down on it, not say a thing. Instead, he pretended to go back to his own reading, though he was really just watching her, trying to keep his own anxiety levels down.
Jane went back to staring at the screen for awhile, then suddenly stood up, making him glance over at her just as she started to sway. Weller was out of his seat without even realizing it but still he wasn't quick enough. Jane reached out to catch herself and missed, then hit her chin on the edge of the table before falling to the ground.
###
She was sitting in a stew of pain and frustration; irritation clawing at her shoulders, shame swirling in her belly.
The questions kept gnawing at her, the mistakes too. Maybe she shouldn't have brought the guy back to the bunker, even if it had led to finding the RFID chip. They'd almost had to abandon the place due to her decision, an action that would have set them back months. And he could have killed Tasha, it had been a close call. Hell, he could have killed her, would likely have snapped her neck if Kurt hadn't come looking for her. Even so, he'd certainly thrown her against that wall hard enough for her head to still be pounding, her vision swimming a bit as she tried to concentrate on going through the files they found on the chip.
She could feel Kurt's eyes on her even though he was also meant to be reading through the files for any usable intel. And even though she appreciated how worried he was for her, the pressure of it was too much to bear at times. Especially when she was already weighed down with her own mistakes and a nagging fear about her worsening headache.
But he was sure to ask her soon if she was alright and then she'd have to decide how to play it. And if she told him how she actually felt then he'd make that face and fawn all over her. Which did hold a lot of appeal, considering the way her head was aching at the moment.
He was already so upset though, emotionally frayed by being away from his daughter, living life on the run. Jane didn't want to put anything else on him, especially since she was in charge now, felt like she should be the one looking after him.
So telling him about the supernova happening in her head was not an option, even when he finally gave in and asked if she was okay.
She could feel his question hanging in the air and the pressure of it turned her pain into irritation. Her immediate impulse was to just flat out lie to him, the way she had during her illness, when she was keeping everything from him. It was so deep-seated, the need to hide her hurts, she'd never even questioned it. But now Jane reflected back on the look on his face when she'd been blatantly lying to him about her symptoms and knew that she couldn't do that to him again.
Yet she couldn't possibly tell him the truth either, not when he would rightfully lose his mind about it. He was already stressed out enough, she wasn't going to add to that unless absolutely necessary. And since she'd already convinced herself that she would just sleep off the headache and be fine, there wasn't any need to worry him. He would just stay up all night, pointlessly looking after her; lose sleep over something he couldn't do anything about.
So she told him a half truth, said the light was bothering her. Which it was, along with a myriad of other things.
It deflected Weller for a moment, gave her time to take a breath, try to push through the mental fog surrounding her. All she had to do was push Kurt off until bedtime, pray that sleep remedied the issue.
But the words were starting to swim on the screen in front of her, making her task nearly impossible. And the more she tried to concentrate, the more the queasy feeling in her gut grew. Until it had spread right up to her throat, made her feel like she was gagging on it.
Jane got up, intending to get a drink of water. But in her rush to stand she became extremely lightheaded, had to reach out for the table's edge in an attempt to steady herself.
Her perception was off though, everything a bit swirly; so she missed the table entirely, started to fall.
It felt as if her body was no longer responding to her brain's commands, all her natural physical instincts abandoning her as she braced for the ground but hit her chin on the table instead. For a second she saw sparkles at the edge of her vision and then Jane dropped to the floor, trying to absorb the impact by curling into herself. She took the brunt of the fall on her shoulder, felt it reverberate through her entire body before ending up back in her skull. Then things got swirly for awhile, before she was able to tune back in to the pounding in her head, the eddies of nausea in her belly and her husband shouting in her ear.
Jane managed to push to a hunched over kneeling position as Kurt got to her in full panic mode, his body vibrating against hers. But she had more pressing issues at hand, was desperately trying to push back on the queasiness before she lost the contents of her stomach and made things even worse.
She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she was not okay. That the pounding ache was eating into her brain stem, and could he help her please. But there weren't any words in her head, nothing but grey haze, explosive pain.
Of course it didn't matter though, that she couldn't say anything, was just a gasping mess on the floor, trying not to vomit on herself. Kurt immediately understood what she needed and wrapped his solid presence around her, rubbed a soothing rhythm on her back to keep her focused.
He was saying something to her but she couldn't hear him over the rushing in her ears. Still, it was reassuring to feel the vibration of his words in the air between them, settled her just knowing that they were there.
They sat there for a long time, her head floating in a dense fog, Kurt supporting her weight with one arm around her ribs, the other solidly on her back. Eventually the waves of dizziness and nausea petered into a manageable discomfort and she was able to open her eyes, tilt her head sideways to examine him from below.
He still looked panicked and she felt a flash of guilt for having caused him so much stress. If she'd just told him how much her head hurt earlier he would never have let her hit her chin again, make everything so much worse. Sometimes she felt so frustrated by her own stubbornness that she didn't know what to make of it, felt like taking it out on herself even further.
But thankfully Kurt was wrapped all around her, his voice humming in her ear. And the comfort she derived from his presence was enough to ground her, push away the encroaching self-loathing.
When she finally was able to tune in to his actual words, they made her heart flutter, her lip curl into a tiny grin.
"Hey beautiful," he said, soft and grumbly. "I'm sorry, I should have known. But I've got you now so come back to me please. I'm going to take care of you, everything's going to be okay."
Jane realized he'd been saying some variation of those words the entire time and her smile dropped off her face when she understood how frantic he must be despite his relatively calm demeanour.
"I'm okay," she muttered, finally finding her voice. "I was just dizzy."
She felt Kurt sigh as she tried to push to her feet, despite the fact that he was still draped over her back. Predictably, he didn't let her stand, used his weight advantage to gently pull her into a sitting position, then tugged her back until she was in his lap, her head resting on his collarbone.
"If you didn't have a concussion before, there isn't any doubt now," he said affectionately. "You're not going anywhere."
She had to admit it felt good to just sit there with him, let the façade drop. He already knew her head hurt, was already stressed out about it. So there wasn't any point in hiding it anymore, she could allow herself to take in his comfort.
"It's really not that bad," she mumbled, snuggling into him, her eyes closed. "I didn't eat anything today. I was just dizzy."
"You already said that," he replied, his voice low and rumbly. "And I'm sure you're fine. But you've hit your head twice today and I'm not taking any chances."
"I'm sorry," she said. "This was all my fault. I should never have brought him back here."
"Shh," Kurt replied. "None of that. You made the right decision and we took out one of their leaders. Plus, we have a lead on what Madeline's planning. And no one got hurt. Well, except for you."
He planted a kiss on her temple after he finished reassuring her, making the last of her tension fade away. Then he kissed her again behind her ear, in that spot that made her entire body tingle, flush with pleasure despite the pain in her head.
Jane smiled to herself, looked up and caught his lips with hers, gave them a little tug. Kurt grinned, the concern in his eyes turning to amusement as he gave in to her demand and kissed her softly.
When he pulled his lips away, his expression was so adoring and exhausted that she just burrowed into him further, pulled his arms around even tighter until they were cocooned together on the cold concrete.
"That's it," he murmured into her hair. "Just rest. Your head will feel better in the morning."
And for once she didn't feel the need to fight it, argue that she was okay. Just let him hold her in his lap until she was almost asleep, didn't resist at all when he carried her to bed and stayed beside her, his fingers playing with her hair until she finally drifted off.