She wakes from a dream, in an non-extradition country. In a tiny space that smells damp and dank in the exact same way the black site did; there's even that stale stench of urine that makes her constantly want to gag.
Jane's gasping for air, determined to kill that fucker Keaton as he beats her senseless, her shoulders straining as she tries not to cry out. It's a nightmare and it's a flashback, all rolled into one. She struggles against her bounds only to find they somehow struggle back.
Jane screams in surprise but a hand covers her mouth to stifle the noise. Her first instinct is to attack, bite down; but somehow her body recognizes the touch even as her mind is stuck in the past. So she doesn't fight the restraint, somehow knows to go with it even as her head tells her she's helpless in a dungeon, needs to hurt whoever is holding her.
For a long time her pulse still races, her body caught in an intense fight or flight moment. But she doesn't try to yell or struggle and finally, her heart calms enough to hear Kurt whispering in her ear, so close that his breath tickles.
"It's okay, it was a dream," he says on repeat, as he continues to hold her scream back, rubs circles on her spine.
"I'm right here."
Jane listens to his voice, follows it until she's all the way out of her nightmare. Back in the present in the dingy room, in a country that very few people even know about. Held tight in Weller's arms, on a moldy smelling mattress.
She takes a few deep breaths, now very glad that Kurt had stopped her from waking everyone else in their close confines. The entire team is jammed into a small underground bunker without walls. But at least they have their own secluded corner space even if it smells like a dungeon.
Kurt must feel her calm down because he drops his hand from her mouth and places it comfortingly on her sternum instead. Feeling his presence helps her breathe more concretely, the warmth of his hand against her chest as it rises with each breath.
"You okay?" he whispers.
Jane shivers, tries to curl into his touch.
"Yeah," she says, barely audible.
"Usual bad dream?" he asks, kissing her on the temple.
Jane nods into the dark. Kurt knows the answer anyways; she doesn't need to say anything when she wakes up like that. She's been having more of these flashback dreams ever since the drone attack in Iceland, her PTSD symptoms flaring with that intense trauma of seeing them all die, not to mention the constant anxiety of being on the run again.
Kurt reaches back to turn on the light, then gives them both time to adjust to the glare before looking at her in concern.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, bringing his hand back up to her mouth, this time his thumb running along her bottom lip.
Jane shakes her head, turns away from him a little.
"No, it's just a bad dream, it happens," she says. "It doesn't bother me anymore."
Weller gives her those eyes, the hurt ones that demand truths about things she doesn't like to discuss. It had taken a long time for her to talk to him about her flashback nightmares at all. The subject of it was so touchy, she didn't want to set off his own guilt about what happened, didn't want pity for her pain.
But of course Kurt had pushed his way in, coaxed the words out of her. Made her feel so reassured when she finally unleashed her torrent of worry on him. Somehow convinced her that he was there for her no matter the subject matter, that it was destroying him to watch her suffer through her traumatic symptoms alone.
"No lies," he says affectionately. "Come here."
Kurt pulls her closer, his hand now tugging at her hips. Jane cautiously complies, still feeling some residual tenseness from her nightmare.
It's impossible but Jane swears that she can feel him ogling her from behind in the dim light, can picture his facial expression from the way he's breathing. Her intuition is confirmed when Weller starts running his hands down her back then up, under her shirt. Traces the towers of the derricks then his name, keeps on drawing his way down her back. Then when he reaches her hips he runs his hands back and traces all her scars, the way he always does. He has never ignored them, doesn't pretend. He just loves them the way he loves the rest of her.
She just wishes it didn't make him feel so guilty as well, but knows that's an uphill battle when it comes to Kurt. He holds onto his responsibilities so strongly and feels so much, despite all he's been through himself.
God she loves him. He makes her feel tethered to the Earth by at least one thing. Otherwise she would be completely afloat, thoroughly non-existent. Her life wasn't even on any un-redacted records, not since the death of her real parents in South Africa.
Kurt's thumbs run up her back, marking out all her wounds before he finishes by kissing her all the way up her neck.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks softly as his mouth nears her ear.
Jane sighs, knows he won't let it go without getting an answer. But it's a hard thing to express, exactly what goes on in her mind when it starts to drift in this way.
They're both silent for a long time, Kurt's hands running circuits on her back. He doesn't say anything else to press the issue and gives her the time to completely calm down and gather herself.
He's incredibly patient with her in moments like these and she appreciates it so much. Maybe it's because he has his own trauma to deal with, he understands the time it takes to heal. So she wants to give him something in return, no matter how hard it is to get the words out.
Jane grounds herself on the weight of Kurt surrounding her, the feeling of being so securely tucked in his arms. Her heart rate calms until finally quiet words start spilling out of her mouth.
"Sometimes I don't know what's real, if I'm real," she says, knowing that she isn't making any sense. "I've just had so many different lives now, the dreams make me wonder if this is even happening."
She pauses, unsure how to describe the existential angst she experiences after reliving the past so intensely.
"And now we're on the run, pretending to be other people. And I'm getting all these flashbacks. Sometimes I just feel so… lost. Like I could still be there, at the black site. Or like I've never actually existed at all."
Weller doesn't say anything, just silently reassures her with his lips pressed to the back of her head, his arms holding her close.
"When you hold me at least I know I have you," Jane confesses. "Something solid to hang onto."
She feels Kurt breathe out a long sigh that brushes through her hair as he somehow pulls her even closer. But then he rolls away from her, tugging lightly on her hand as he steps out of bed.
"Come here," he says, pulling her to her feet in front of a dirty mirror.
"What do you see?" Weller asks as he wraps his arms around her waist, leans his head against hers.
Jane hesitates, has a hard time even looking at herself in the mirror when she feels this way. The tattoos and scars just reminders of all the things she's done, the horror she brought on others and herself. Illogically, she doesn't want to say it though, admit it to Kurt. Even though he knows all of it and all he wants is the truth.
"I see everything I've done, the person I was," she finally says, barely a whisper but sounding so loud in the silent of the night.
"Sometimes I think I deserved it, now that I can remember it all," she admits.
Sure, the CIA had no right to detain her indefinitely, torture her. But there's a large part of her that thinks it was just karma, payback for the sins of her past life. All of her Orion missions, trying to destroy the entire US government. Playing on Kurt's oldest hurts with no qualms, any thought about how painful it would be for him to revisit it all.
Of course Weller doesn't feel the same, is forever telling her that no one should have to go through what happened to her. And yet he doesn't argue with her now, just leaves a trail of kisses on her neck after she finishes confessing.
"I know you do," he says, just a little hint of sadness in his voice.
"Do you know what I see?"
Jane shakes her head, then changes her mind and nods instead. She knows what he's going to say and on another day, in another mood, she would try to avoid it, deflect it. But tonight she feels secure enough to hear his words, let him hold her up.
"I see a survivor, a hero, my beautiful wife," he whispers in her ear. "I see everything you've been through, your compassion, your inner strength."
He snuggles her close, nuzzling his nose into her neck until she melts right into him. He's almost convincing enough to push the feeling off of her, give her a flash of what's underneath.
"I see you. And you are so goddamned real to me, Jane. You're my other half, remember."
Weller stands there, crushing her to him for so long that eventually the last tendrils of tenseness start to let go, allow her to breathe freely once more. Finally, she feels real again, back in the present; firmly tethered to Kurt
He knows her so well that he feels it too, waits until she's completely back with him before he speaks again.
"Now, tell me," he says, his breath hot against her ear. "What do you see?"