This is all on me.
Jane comes to this thought not long after a group of commandos grabs her from her FBI holding cell, drugs her and throws her in a dank hole.
She awakes to the smell of piss and vomit; it takes her another while to realize it's her own. Then they start by stringing her up by the wrists, her shoulders nearly dislocating with the weight of her own body, how far she swings when her captor hits her with his club, breaking her ribs one by one.
But no matter the physical pain she's put through, it's the mental anguish that etches deepest. Sure, the whip flaying skin off her waist leaves her bloody and raw, covered in open sores. Yet she can just grit her teeth and bear it, dig deep into the mantra that came to her as soon as the torture began.
Pain is a dream, she tells herself over and over. And it successfully numbs her body, lets her watch the streams of red flow down her skin, allows her to retreat into herself even as he pulls a blade across her torso, determined to do maximal damage without jeopardizing her life.
So the blade, the lash, the baton, none of those hurt her the way her own realizations do.
At first she'd wanted to blame it on someone. The FBI, the CIA, Kurt you're my fucking starting point Weller. If only he'd given her the chance to explain.
But of course he hadn't listened to any of her pleas, hadn't spoken a single word to her after hauling her away from the safe house in cuffs. He hadn't just been walled off, he'd become stone itself as he left her in the holding cell, unable to even look her in the eyes.
For a single night she'd held onto the hope that he'd come to his senses, would return in the morning and hear her out. But then the commandos had shown up and she'd ended up hanging from a hook, all illusion gone.
So after a full day of steady blood flow, the first real scar Jane suffers is the understanding that Weller let this happen, gave her over to this nameless man and his switchblade, his metal club.
She cradles herself as best she can that first night in her filthy cell, her body shivering and in shock from being beaten and sliced for hours. At first she fixates on hating the man who is hurting her; being angry at Kurt for letting it happen. If only he'd given her the chance to talk, he would have seen that she'd mostly been worried for his safety, that she'd been doing her best to mitigate the situation her former self had created.
It takes another full day of beatings for Jane to understand that her captor wanted her to think that way, that he was telling her that Weller had given her over for this treatment to strike at her emotionally, make her easier to break.
When they toss her in that cell the second day, she lies there writhing, bleeding internally from where her torturer had 'accidentally' broken her pelvis. Of course the incident had been blamed on her, retribution for managing to kick him while he repeatedly struck her already broken ribs with his baton. His anger at being nailed in the nuts had resulted in a flurry of undisciplined blows to her lower back and pelvis area; left her realizing that provoking her captor would leave her dead sooner than later.
So Jane's curled up on the cold concrete floor, breathing clammy shallow breaths and leaking internally when she comes to the real truth. Even if Weller could have saved her, kept her from this fate; it didn't mean that it was his fault where she ended up. He just hadn't stood up for her, come through for her in the way she'd expected him to. But that was all because of her own actions, what she'd done in the first place.
What would he have seen even if she'd been allowed to explain things? That she'd been lying to him for months. That she had been involved in Carter's murder and set up Mayfair, gotten her killed. That she had pretended to be a dead girl, preyed on his rawest memory to get close to him, use him.
She had hidden so much from him, held back her part in the whole plot because of her own shame at being complicit. She could have gone to him right when she found out, confessed her part in Carter's murder and the whole tattoo plot. But she'd been too afraid of what he'd think, worried that it'd be all the same things she'd started thinking about herself.
So in the end, her most enduring scar is self-inflicted, comes from the the understanding that she'd brought this all on herself. That no one else deserves the blame, not even the sadistic fuck with the baton.
Lying in that mouldy dark hole, bleeding out internally, Jane shudders with the knowledge that despite her best intentions, she'd done terrible things. She'd lied to Kurt, betrayed her team. No wonder she's alone, has been abandoned by all of them. It's what she deserves for her part in it, for getting Mayfair killed.
The pain in her belly is overwhelming, and Jane idly wonders if they're really going to let her die on the floor of her cell after just two days of torture. Maybe she shouldn't have goaded the asshole into hitting her so hard but it had been worth it to land a solid strike to his groin. Even if he had broken her pelvis in response, made her scream with his repeated hits.
Jane feels her head drifting, her body shivering uncontrollably. If they don't check on her, she doesn't think she'll make it through to the next beating.
That's okay, she thinks calmly as the world slides away. If she dies here at least the pain will be over and she knows that she deserved her fate. She can only hope that he can let this all go, that he'll be able to move on from all the hurt she's caused.
And with that, Jane slips off into the dark; her last thought of Kurt, all her regrets.
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A/N this is the bottom of the 'Jane's scars' time lapse... tomorrow the Kurt-focused bounce back begins.