A/N: Whoa, what an episode. So many scenes I need to write. (This first part is based on my personal experience of bloody injuries and the fact that the bunker is unlikely within walking distance to where the Dabber Zann chemicals were being kept.)
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Jane fell to her knees hard, her hand clutching at the bullet hole in her abdomen as the impact reverberated through her body. Her eyes closed for a moment and she groaned loudly as a wave of weakness passed through her.
No, she told herself, forcing her eyes open.
They've got Kurt, you don't have time for this.
Jane pushed herself off the ground with a shaky hand, all coated in red. She grimaced as the pain in her belly kept increasing, all the adrenaline in her system wearing off. She held her other hand to the wound, trying not to think about all the blood sliding through her fingers as she considered her meagre set of options.
The bunker was close, but not within stumbling distance. Her original plan had been to get clear of the area and then take a series of taxis until she was close enough to walk back. But the likelihood of even catching one cab while bleeding out seemed extremely low.
Jane limped her way across the street, managing to stay on her feet until she made it to the next building, leaning into it hard to catch her breath. Her hand was soaked despite the pressure she was putting directly on the wound and she knew she needed something better to stop the bleeding or she wasn't even going to make it back to the bunker to tell them about Kurt.
She glanced around and quickly catalogued her options, wracked her mind for any way to find some first aid supplies. There weren't any shops she could break into, definitely no pharmacies; just warehouses and some lofts. Going into a residence was too risky in her condition, she was likely to leave evidence everywhere and not even find what she needed.
Jane pushed herself to keep moving as she searched for any possibility, stumbled down the sidewalk grasping her side and gritting her teeth. A wave of grey flowed through her vision and she nearly tripped on nothing, had to catch herself on a parked car.
She leaned against the car for a moment as the world swam around her and she told herself to breathe, to refocus. It was already taking too long; she didn't have the time to be stumbling around bleeding when anything could be happening to her husband.
Jane growled to herself, ground her teeth in deeper and was about to push off the car to keep walking when a key fact appeared in her mind. Random leftover knowledge from her previous stint in Europe, working K&Rs.
Instead of walking away from the vehicle, she slid around to the back of it and pulled a small tool out of her pocket. Popping the trunk open took longer than usual but then Jane sighed in relief at the sight of a European driving kit, a road requirement in most EU countries.
She grabbed the bag and opened it, quickly locating the first aid kit and searching through it to find some sterile dressings and a roll of gauze. It wasn't much but it was a lot better than what she had going on at the moment.
Jane tore open the packages with her teeth, then moved her right hand off her wound long enough to press the handful of gauze to it before pushing back down hard enough to make herself yelp. Next, she opened the gauze roll the same way and held it in place with her right hand while winding it around her tightly around her torso with her left.
Jane grunted again, tried to take in a few solid breaths before putting everything back in the trunk and closing it shut. Then she lifted her right hand off of the dressing she'd just applied, took an appraising look at her temporary measure.
The good news was a lot of pressure had slowed the bleeding somewhat. The bad news was everything else. Blood didn't seem to be coming out of her back so the bullet was probably still in her, pressing against something vital. Which most likely meant that she needed it taken out of her to survive the situation. But there wasn't time for any of that, not when Kurt was in the enemy's hands.
So despite the wooziness in her head and the searing ache in her side, Jane knew exactly what she needed to do. Make it back to the bunker and lie about the injury, keep up the charade as long as possible so they kept their focus on Kurt.
She'd already taken too long, both in terms of blood loss and actual physical time. Now that the bleeding was dealt with as much as possible, she stumbled to the front of the car and used her little tool to open the door, though it took too many extra tries due to the shake in her hands.
Luckily it was an easy car to hotwire, because by the time she had the wires in her hands, the blood was already starting to show through the gauze. Slamming the car into gear quickly so she could return her right hand to slowing the bleeding, Jane drove as close to the bunker as she dared then ditched the car in an abandoned lot.
Pushing out of the vehicle, she was pleased to find that her steps were relatively steady and her makeshift bandage still holding for the time being. If she was lucky, she could get them all so involved in searching for Kurt that they didn't notice the extent of her wound until they'd gotten a lead on him.
The question of what to do once she couldn't hide her injury anymore didn't even cross her mind. She had to find him, that was priority number one. She couldn't let them hurt him, realize that he would never talk no matter the pain they put him through.
With that thought firmly entrenched in her mind, Jane limped her way towards the bunker, trying to breathe through the agony that flared with every step.
Get to the team. Find Kurt.
Get to the team. Find Kurt.
It was only another block to the hidden entrance but her energy was waning so Jane had to pause and reel in all the mental and physical resources she had left. Lifting her right hand and looking under her shirt one more time, she groaned at how saturated the bandaging already was.
She didn't have a lot of time before she was going to need serious medical attention. So she had to get moving, push through the pain long enough to find Kurt.
Placing her hand back on the leaking wound, Jane summoned the last of her energy reserves and stumbled her way into the bunker.
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Weller sat in the chair, listening to Ivy tell him that Jane had been shot and trying to push away the instinctive ice cold sinking feeling he got at the mere thought of it.
She's just bluffing, he told himself. Jane's fine, she has to be.
But then Ivy pulled out her phone and showed him the footage of his wife; made his heart crash into the pit of his stomach.
Kurt gulped hard as he watched Jane clutch her side in distress, then fall to her knees, clearly already struggling. The video was real, he didn't doubt that at all. His wife had been shot and he wasn't there for her. She might not have even made it back to the bunker if she was having trouble staying on her feet not long after taking the bullet.
The fear rose up his spine, flooded his entire body. This was as bad as not being there for Bee while she was in the hospital, possibly worse. At least Bethany had Allie and Connor with her. Jane was injured and all alone out there. Even if she made it back to the team, what were they going to do? It was a gut shot, something he was all too familiar with. Including all the complications that could occur even when receiving proper medical care.
He heard Ivy's words ring in his ears "Do you think Jane would let them take her to a hospital with her husband missing?" and he knew the answer as surely as he knew his own name. His wife was nothing if not stubborn, especially about her injuries. If she thought it would save him, she'd pretend to be fine even if she was bleeding out.
Which definitely did not make him feel any better about her situation, or his. He knew that there was nothing he could do for Jane even though Ivy was dangling a measure of control in front of him; seemingly giving him a way to care for his wife. He understood how these things worked, that they would offer him medical attention for Jane in return for information on their hideout and Ivy would likely just let her die anyways, or even help her along once they were all found. And even if he could save Jane's life by giving them up, that was a surefire way to make her hate him for eternity.
What exactly would he say to her even if Ivy made good on the deal? I gave us all up so that you could live out the rest of your life in supermax feeling responsible for putting everyone in prison too?
The worst part was that he knew she would gladly give up her own freedom for all of theirs, if that was an option. But to put them all away just to save her life? To Jane, that would be unforgiveable.
So really there wasn't any choice to be made. No matter how it felt to watch his watch his wife suffer, no matter what Ivy offered him. He believed in Jane, trusted in his team. Whatever they did to him in there, he had to withstand it. Stall as long as he could in order to give them time to get away.
Yet, no matter what his rational mind knew to be true, it was nearly impossible to contain the frantic leaping of his heart as his brain replayed the moment over and over again. Jane grabbing her abdomen in shock, then falling to her knees as she tried to walk away.
Maybe it wasn't that bad, he tried to think. Maybe it had just winged her in the side.
But she hadn't looked good, even in the video. And that must have been right after he'd been taken, not long after she'd been shot. Which made it extremely concerning, especially considering her ridiculous toughness.
Kurt fought a wave of intense fear surging through his spinal cord. He thought about Jane making her way back to the bunker with a bullet in her, wondered if she even made it there at all or if she was lying on the street even then, bleeding out by herself.
The thought of her out there, injured and alone, made him extremely tense, almost nauseous. Again he thought about what Ivy had said, hated how true her words were.
Weller gritted his teeth in frustrated anxiety, tried to contain the feelings surging within him. His wife was badly hurt and not only was he not there for her, he was preventing her from getting the help she needed. The strife that caused within him actually made him feel as if he'd been hit by an emotional taser, zapped right in the heart.
And the worst part was that he couldn't do anything for her except buy her time, resist the pleading of his heart and listen to his rational mind.
You know what to do, he told himself. Don't give her anything.
Whatever Ivy had planned, it wouldn't be enough.
They were his team. She was his wife.
He would do it for them, no matter what it took.