Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
They'd been laying under the blanket quietly for a while, her head against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat in the dark. Once again, he had one hand on the back of her head, and the other rested loosely on her shoulder. Even with four layers of material between them – Jane's shirt, the sweatshirt of Kurt's that she was wearing and Sarah's fleece, plus the knit gloves on his hands – he couldn't help but feel a warmth spread from his hand throughout his body. The feeling was even stronger from his other hand, the one on the back of her head where his gloves and her hat were the only things between them.
Despite everything, he felt a strange sense of peace, lying there with her that way. Yes, there were other places that might have been more comfortable… but in its own way, this was a kind of perfection.
"So," Jane said softly, breaking the silence. "What would you be doing at this time on Christmas Eve any other year? You know, if you weren't stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere with some girl laying on top of you."
"Well," he began, sounding slightly annoyed, "I don't see any 'some girl' here…" He narrowed his eyes at her for a few second, even though she couldn't see it. His tone had shown his displeasure with the idea that she would describe herself that way, however. "But if I wasn't here with you…" he continued, going back to her question, his voice softening. "Let's see… it's around… 3:20 now?" He thought for a minute. "Well, maybe watching a movie with Sawyer... Maybe working on dinner, and attempting to keep Sarah from helping too much in the kitchen…" They both chuckled at that image. "Or, maybe starting a fire in the fireplace, especially on a day like today…"
Jane shivered involuntarily, the thought of a fire suddenly making her just feel colder, thinking about what they didn't have. Of course, it wasn't something that she could exactly hide from Kurt – even less so than she could ever have gotten anything past him any other time.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, concern immediately obvious in his voice.
"I'm fine," Jane insisted immediately. After all, she'd been through far worse at the hands of the CIA. Of course, Kurt didn't believe even for a second that she was fine. It wasn't hard to figure out what shivering meant, after all.
"Jane, don't be like that. You're cold," he insisted, frustrated that she was so willing to brush off her obvious discomfort. When she didn't reply within a few seconds, he sighed heavily and took his hands off of her head and her shoulder, then started taking off his gloves. She didn't know what he was doing, of course, since she couldn't see him, but she had a feeling she was busted. He reached for his cell phone, which he unlocked so that he could use the dim light from the screen as a flashlight – the actual flashlight would have been too bright for their small space – then set it against the side of the seat, balanced so that he could see her.
With the light from his screen as his guide, he reached down and unzipped her fleece about three inches, which was basically as far down as he could go while she was laying against him the way she was. Next, he pushed her scarf just a little farther onto her neck, gently moving it out of the way so that his hands could find the bare skin where her neck met her shoulders, at the neckline of the shirt she had underneath her sweatshirt.
What in the world is he doing? she wondered. She tensed up a little, even though she had to admit that feeling his skin against hers was definitely not exactly unpleasant.
Finally finding the area of bare skin that he wanted, he was surprised to find that, even though he knew that his hands were cold, her skin was far colder. But how could she be so cold under all of those layers of clothes?
Because you're a furnace and she's not, the voice in his head told him.
"Liar," he said accusingly, "you're freezing."
"No, Kurt, I'm fine," she insisted, just as another shiver shook her, hard, at which time she just sighed in frustration and stopped talking, her face tightening into a pout.
"You are so stubborn, you know that?" he asked her with a smile, shaking his head. This time his voice was gentler, as his bare hands came to rest on either side of the base of her neck.
"I believe that's what they call the pot calling the kettle black, right?" she asked, raising one eyebrow that she thought he may or may not have been able to see in the weak light.
She felt the rumble beneath her again then, as he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is," he conceded. As he attempted to figure out his next move, and how he could best warm her up short of suggesting that they take off their clothes, because he knew what her reaction would be to that one, they heard a loud, slow rumbling noise. It was faint at first, but then it grew louder and louder. Before they could think about it any farther, Kurt threw back the blanket just a few inches so that they could attempt to look outside. All they could see was white, of course, because the windows were covered with snow.
"Was that a plow?" Jane asked hopefully. The noise was already moving farther away after passing right by them on the road.
"It sounded like it," Kurt replied, looking just as hopeful as she did. "I need to see how things look outside. If the plows are running and if the snow has slowed down enough that it makes sense to start digging us out – assuming the traffic isn't blocking the road…"
That's a lot of 'ifs,' Jane thought. Still, 'ifs' were all they had. They had to get out of there somehow.
Knowing that Kurt needed to be able to get out of the sleeping bag to be able to assess the situation, Jane found herself already leaning to her right, against the seat back, just the way Kurt had tilted her earlier so that she could use her left hand to eat the trail mix.
"Reading my mind once again, I see," he said, smiling at her with a look so full of emotion that she for a few seconds, her chest hurt and she couldn't breathe. She found herself more than a little bit unhappy about the idea that he was going to get out of the sleeping bag. She watched as he reached around and unzipped the top, pulling the zipper down about a foot and then carefully extracting himself, zipping it back up as quickly as he could. He pulled his fleece more tightly around him, just as she did with the blankets inside the sleeping bag as she watched him maneuver himself over the center console and into the front seat.
She'd already been starting to feel the cold, despite what she'd told him, and without him against her in the sleeping bag she suddenly felt much, much colder. Instead of focusing on that, however, she forced herself to watch what he was doing. As she observed curiously, he clicked the key forward once in the ignition, allowing him to use the power from the battery to push the button that activated the windshield wipers. It was obvious from the difficulty with which they groaned into action that the snow on top of them was significant, but after several tries, they did finally clear the main part of the front windshield enough that they could see the outside world.
Peeking out, Jane was surprised at what she saw. Of course, she knew that it had been snowing hard and fast, but even so, she wasn't prepared for the amount of snow outside. There were many other cars pulled off the side of the road just like theirs, at varying intervals as far forward along the road as they could see. All of them were covered in huge mounds of snow. She wondered if their car looked as funny as the others did, and the thought almost made her forget how quickly she was getting cold without him there to help keep her warm.
"The snow has almost stopped," Kurt observed, calling Jane's attention to the sky for the first time. It was true, the snow that was falling was now just tiny crystals once again, as it had been at the beginning of the storm. There was just enough of it so that it was clear just how hard the wind was still blowing, as the snow was whipped through the air with alarming speed. "Some of what's in the air is blowing off of the snow on the ground," he added. She just nodded, feeling colder just from looking outside.
"What about the road?" she asked him, afraid that he was going to say that it was still impassible.
"Well, it looks like enough people either pulled over or were otherwise able to get off the road that the plows have been able to do a decent job," he said slowly. "There's definitely still a mess on the road, but at least it looks passible." Turning to look back at her, he smiled. She wasn't going to like what he was going to say next, even if she knew that it was coming.
"I'm going to suit up and then go out there, clear off the car and be sure the tail pipe isn't full of snow," he explained, "and then we can run the car for about ten minutes to at least heat it back up. While it's running, I'll work on shoveling enough of what's between us and the road that the car can get back onto the road."
Jane looked towards the road, and saw that Kurt had been right. When the plow had come by a few minutes before, it had left a mound of snow at the side of the road. While it was annoying, she supposed it was unavoidable. After all, the snow had to go somewhere.
She was looking at him anxiously, but he wasn't looking at her. He had already pulled his snow pants out of the bag of extra gear, and was sitting in the front passenger seat, struggling into them in the limited space available. He'd taken off his fleece in order to put the straps over his shoulders, and was already putting the fleece back on over them, followed by his thick jacket, and then his snow boots, which he'd also pulled out of the bag. Her eyes had been on him this whole time, and despite the amount of clothing he was wearing, she couldn't help but feel more and more afraid for him. Would all of the precautions, the layers, be enough?
He leaned around the front seat and reached into the bag of extra winter gear one more time, removing a pair of thick, stiff gloves, one that looked far too big for him. Looking back up and into her eyes once more, he smiled reassuringly. "Jane, it's going to be okay, I promise," he said sincerely. "I'll tap on the back window when I make sure the tail pipe's clear, and that's when you can run the engine for ten minutes. Put the heat all the way up, but stay in the sleeping bag so you preserve the heat in there, too, okay? And don't forget to crack the window just a little bit, just in case." When she looked at him skeptically, he added, "Carbon monoxide poisoning is deadly." She nodded, looking unconvinced about the entire plan. It was their only plan, but she hated it anyway.
Watching Jane, it was obvious that she was less certain than he was. He wished there was something else he could do, but he knew that at that moment, the best thing he could do was exactly what he was going to do – to clear the car off, clear their path to the road… keep her safe. He knew that she hated being left in the car alone, unable to help him, but there was nothing to be done about that just then.
Try as she might to list the facts of the situation to herself, to tell herself that it was all almost over, she remained unconvinced. There were too many 'what ifs' floating around in her head. Besides, Kurt was now farther away from her than he'd been in hours – despite the fact that so far he was only a few feet away from her – and he was about to get significantly farther away. She knew it was illogical, but she suddenly felt herself beginning to panic about that.
"Hey, Jane," he was saying to her. She snapped back to attention, finding him looking into her eyes worriedly.
As she forced a smile back onto her face, she nodded quickly. Of course, he was going to be okay.
"It's going to be fine," he said in a loud whisper, willing her to believe it. He was now sitting in the front seat, so putting his arms around her wasn't quite an option, but he reached back with his right hand, covered by the same kind of knitted glove that hers was, and squeezed the hand with which she was grasping the top of the sleeping bag. Warmth surged through her that was completely disproportionate to the actual amount of heat that either of their hands was capable of producing just then, and for a second she knew without a doubt that it would all be fine. And then all too soon he was withdrawing his hand again, and she was fighting the sensation, illogical though she knew that it was, that she was losing him.
He turned himself around slowly until he was facing the dashboard, then turned the key back to the 'Off' setting in the ignition and leaned farther over to push the button that would release the trunk latch. The trickiest part would be getting to the trunk to pull it open, so that he could get out his shovel and get to work. But there was no time to think about that, so he pulled on his heavy gloves over his thinner ones, then gave her one more smile over his shoulder before pushing the door open – which was not as easy as it should have been, because of all the snow that was weighing it down. He pushed as hard as he could against the door, then forced his way out into the snow, which had accumulated quickly over the last few hours. It was deeper than his boots, and he struggled to get clear of the door as fast as he could, so that he could close it before any more heat escaped. All he could think about just then was getting Jane to safety.
All Jane could think about, on the other hand, was how Kurt was risking his life, putting himself in danger for her. For himself, too, her mind tried to remind her, but to no avail. As far as she was concerned, it was her fault that he was out there in the freezing cold wind and snow. Biting hard on her lip and not even noticing the pain, she sat up, curled up as tightly in the blankets inside the sleeping bag as she could and attempting to watch him work despite the fact that the windows were covered in snow. She heard a heavy crunching type sound move slowly around toward the back of the car, and even though she knew it was Kurt, probably fighting to walk in the snow, it sounded ominous to her. The fact that she couldn't see him was scaring her, making the sudden feeling of claustrophobia inside the car even worse.
You've been stuck in this car for hours, her mind reminded her. So why are you just feeling anxious about that now? It wasn't hard to figure out that the only difference was that Kurt was no longer in the car with her, and she pulled the blankets more tightly around her as she struggled to see through the snow covered windows, despite the fact that it was impossible.
Suddenly, from behind her, there was a loud clicking noise, and the car shook just a little. Hopefully, that was Kurt opening the trunk. It had taken both much longer than she'd expected, and yet, at the same time, much less time than she'd feared. Time suddenly no longer seemed to have any meaning.
The next thing she heard was a loud thud, and some of the snow on the back window fell off to reveal a dark shape. Again, even though she knew that it was Kurt, she couldn't help the sliver of doubt that she felt because she couldn't see him clearly. Suddenly, there was a swishing noise, and snow began to fall off of the back window in broad strokes. Finally, finally, she could see Kurt, all bundled up, and already very red in the face from the cold.
She watched as he bent down slightly, holding onto the handle of the shovel, then there was a loud scraping sound and she wondered if that was the sound of the shovel hitting the pavement, or just the force of the shovel cutting through the snow. It wasn't a sound she'd heard before, so she just had to use her imagination and assume that it was one of those two things.
It was slow work, and she got more and more worried about him the longer he was out there. Just as she was thinking that she should tell him to come back inside, at least for a few minutes, she was pulled from her thoughts but the sound of his hand thumping against the window. She snapped to attention in time to see him hit the glass firmly again. That means the tail pipe is clear and you can turn on the heat, she reminded herself. Pulling her legs out of the sleeping bag for the first time in several hours, she climbed clumsily over the center console, almost falling into the front seat.
The sound of the engine starting when she turned the key in the ignition was like music to her ears, and even the cool air that was spit out through the vents at first felt warm to her. She hadn't realized just how cold she was until she felt the air from the vents blowing on her. Looking at the clock so that she would know when the engine had been on for ten minutes, she saw that it was now 3:55. She know had let up earlier than expected, so Kurt had been able to start clearing the snow early, which was a welcome change. For once, something was going right for them that day.
Now that the heat was on, the air now coming out of the vents blissfully warm, she turned the dial up to high, opened the driver's side window just a tiny crack, and climbed back into the back seat, back to the sleeping bag. She knew that she needed to keep as much warmth as she could trapped inside it, even though at that moment it felt unnecessary. She was worried about Kurt, and how cold he had to be outside being whipped by the wind. It had been cold enough in the car, after all.
Once she had climbed back into the sleeping bag, which was much easier to do when it was just her, she craned her neck out the window to see where Kurt was and how much progress he'd made. The windows on the passenger side of the car were clear, though it appeared that he was simply wading through the snow on that side of the car, not even attempting to shovel it. That made sense, since they didn't need to drive any farther to the right, being the far edge of the road. At that point she saw that he'd made it to the front of the car, and was reaching across the hood, pushing the snow off of it with what looked like a very oversized brush with a long handle. She watched with a mixture of fondness, fascination and worry. The only exposed skin on him, a thin line around his eyes not covered by his scarf, was bright red. That couldn't be a good sign.
He moved on to the driver's side of the car, first brushing the snow off of the windows as quickly as he could, then pushing the shovel along in front of him in a line parallel with the car with such determination that it almost looked easy. However, before he'd gotten past the window closest to her, the shovel appeared to stop suddenly, resulting in a jerking halt and a frustrated look on his face. At that point, she watched him back up slightly, stabbing the shovel back into the pile of snow that he had created and then lifting a large chunk of it in the air before tossing it away. She could tell from the strain on his face that it was not easy after all, and yet he immediately bent down to pick up the next shovel full, not sparing a second to rest. It was just another reason why she was worried about him.
Once that side of the car had been cleared, she saw him begin to dig a path that led toward the road, beginning from just beside the front left tire, and going only as far across as would be necessary for one car. Again, she wished desperately that she could help him, or that she could send him back into the car and she could finish up. If not for the fact that logically, she couldn't do anything to help him because she didn't have the proper gear, she would have been out there in a heartbeat. Maybe with two of them, they would already have finished. That was the worst part… feeling like she'd failed him, even though she knew that there was no way she could've done anything differently.
Instead of panicking, she tried to focus on him, watching him closely across the seemingly endless stretch of cold, heavily snow covered pavement from her. She was doing the only thing she could do, which was ensure that when he finally did make it back in, he'd have somewhere warm to recover.
Speaking of warmth, she thought suddenly, you'd better look at the clock and see how much time you have left with the heat. She hated the thought of having to turn the engine back off. Sitting there in the car with the engine off was what made the whole situation seem scarier, especially without Kurt there with her. It was 4:01, which left four more minutes of heat. She sighed, looking back out at Kurt again and attempting to stay calm. It wasn't working very well, and the closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
It's going to be okay, Jane, she heard him say in her head. Smiling unconsciously, she pulled the blankets around herself more tightly and managed to fool herself into calming down – until she looked out at the snow, where Kurt was still working, the wind blowing against him mercilessly. Her teeth clenched again and she felt herself breathing faster. She felt trapped.
You're less trapped now than you were for the past few hours, she told herself. He's clearing the path to freedom. Logical or not, she felt the space in the car pressing in on her, more every minute.
Come on, Kurt, she begged silently, Get back in here.
Kurt had been focusing on what he had to do. After all, that was what he was good at. Pushing out all of the distractions in his head and doing what needed to be done. This cold and wind, however, were like nothing else he'd ever experienced. Since he'd started out cold from the beginning and it had simply gotten worse, despite the diligent layering he'd done, it hadn't taken long for him to feel colder than he'd ever felt before. The wind cut through everything he was wearing as if it was nothing.
How long can I last out here before it gets dangerous? he wondered.
Suck it up, Weller. You're fine. You have to clear off the car and dig it out, or you and Jane may not make it, he told himself. At the mention of her name, even in his own head, his determination increased exponentially. No, he wasn't going to let anything happen to Jane if he possibly had a say in it. He wasn't going to stop digging until he'd cleared enough that they could drive out of there. End of story. With that goal in mind, he picked up the snow and tossed it aside with the shovel, over and over, now cursing himself for parking at the far edge of the shoulder. It was the safest place, of course, but meant extra shoveling.
When he hit the several foot tall pile of snow that the plow had pushed up against the side of the road, attempting to cut into it with the same force that he'd been using against the less packed snow on the ground, his shovel almost bounced off uselessly. It sunk into the pile a few inches, but not beyond that. Kurt Weller was not one to show his emotions easily, in most cases, but just then he swore more colorfully than he had in a long time. He stopped for a second, panting, but reminding himself that after he got through this last pile, they should be able to leave. They'd be bound for Clearfield once again. That meant heat, that meant safety, that meant a warm meal and a hot shower – the thought of which almost made him weak in the knees at that moment – and that meant that they'd be out of that damn car. That Jane would be safe.
Jane. He saw her face swim in front of his eyes, and for a second he almost turned around to walk back toward the car. No, he told himself. She's counting on you to do this. You specifically told her that you had to do this and that she couldn't help. If you don't finish, you know that she's going to run right out here and finish the job, whether or not she's dressed warmly enough.
With a renewed sense of determination he swung the snow shovel, pushed through the very top layer of the packed snow that marked the last obstacle between them and freedom, and by extension, the last barrier between himself and getting back in the car with Jane. Once he finished this, he could go back and check on her, make sure she was safe.
She'd been sitting in the car for a while now, watching him working more and more slowly and yet no less determinedly. The engine was once again quiet, and while she was now glad to say that she was warm again, the silence in the car was making her shake, not from cold but from fear. The longer she sat and watched him out in what was obviously a biting, merciless wind, the more worried about him she became.
Come on, Kurt, she whispered to herself. Finally, she watched him cut through the last pile of snow, at the edge of the road. Thankfully, there was now almost no traffic on the road, everyone either having taken shelter in nearby towns or, like them, pulled off the road to wait it out. One painfully small layer at a time, he scooped out the snow that the plow had deposited, in a path wide enough or the car to get through. Every time she watched headlights approach, she watched him step back from the road, standing there swaying in the wind. If it simply blew him over, or if a car had lost control and struck him, what would I do then? she asked herself. She told herself not to think about that. It wasn't going to happen… but from the time it had first occurred to her, it became all she could think about.
It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen. She repeated it over and over like a mantra.
Still, when she saw him finally walking toward the car again, with just enough of the snow plow's pile having been dug out to allow their car to squeeze through – or so it appeared, anyway – she wanted to cry with relief. He was on his way back to the car. He was okay… he had to be okay. She watched him stop behind the back of the car, releasing the latch that opened the trunk and putting the shovel back inside, and silently begged him to hurry. He'd been out there for far too long already.
Kurt pulled the front passenger side door open quickly, flinging himself back into the car and turning on the heat immediately, shivering so hard it was hard to control his motions. He sat for a few seconds, not moving, just staring forward. Jane was sitting up in the sleeping bag in the back seat, where she had remained to keep the warmth inside it, as he had told her to. She scooted forward in the seat, watching him anxiously.
"Kurt… are you okay?" she asked quietly.
He nodded without turning around. "I just need a minute to warm up," she said, almost as if he was in a trace. His teeth were chattering so loudly, she couldn't imagine that it wasn't hurting him. Then, after less than a minute he suddenly started stripping off his outer layer of clothing.
"What are you doing?" Jane asked, confused by his actions, and even more so by the urgency with which he seemed to be undertaking them.
"I have to get everything with snow on it off of me," he told her, his voice shaking heavily as he continued to shiver. "When it melts, it's going to be soaking wet, which will mean it feels even colder." Jane nodded, watching worriedly. In a matter of seconds, Kurt had his boots, snow pants, jacket, gloves, hat and scarf off, but was now sitting there shivering, despite the fact that the heat was blowing full blast, directly on him.
"Kurt, you need to get back in the sleeping bag. It'll take the heat a minute to warm up, and meanwhile you're just getting colder." She climbed out of the sleeping bag and moved as far to the left side of the seat as she could to make room. Nodding without argument, he climbed over the console, back into the back seat and into the sleeping bag that she had unzipped for him. Once he was inside, she pulled the blanket tightly around him, then zipped up the side and waited a minute. To her dismay, he was still shivering. In fact, he didn't seem to be doing any better at all.
That's when Jane noticed that the strip of what had been exposed skin while he'd been shoveling was alarmingly pink. Reading what must have been panic in her face, he shook his head. "Jane, I'm fine," he told her, but Jane wasn't buying it. Taking off her gloves and then holding her hands up against his face, she was dismayed to find out just how cold his skin was, even the part that had been covered and was therefore less pink. He was still shaking all over, and she suddenly felt panic descending over her like a cold, wet blanket. She knew what she had to do, having torn her eyes off of him for approximately two minutes while he'd been outside to look up hypothermia.
"Alright Weller, jacket, sweater and shirt off, now." He looked at her in confusion – which, she noted, was her first sign of just what bad shape he was in. He shouldn't be confused about that. After all, he'd known exactly what they'd needed to do ever since before they'd even pulled over.
Confusion is a sign of hypothermia, the voice in her head said, and her breath caught in her throat.
Goddamn it, Weller, she thought.
"Don't make me wrestle them off of you," she told him seriously.
His teeth were chattering loudly as he tried to force the words out. "Geez you're bossy all of a sudden. What's your problem?" His words were slightly harsh but he was smiling as he shivered. Despite the argument, he did as he was told. As he did, she was already removing her fleece and the sweatshirt of Kurt's that she liked so much.
He was watching her carefully, and she couldn't tell if he understood what she was doing or not. It took him a minute to maneuver himself out of his fleece, and once he'd done that, he had trouble getting his sweater over his head. She moved to sit facing the middle of the back seat, perched slightly on the console, and helped him get his sweater, and then his shirt, over his head, as his shivering continued just as hard as it had when he'd first climbed back inside the car.
Without giving it a second thought, Jane unzipped the sleeping bag about a foot and lifted the blankets that she'd tucked around him with her right hand. Then, awkwardness forgotten, she quickly set her right leg to the side of his, against the back of the seat, followed by her left on the left side of him. Setting her right arm down and leaning as much of her weight as she could against those three limbs without tipping over, she used her left arm to pull the blanket over her back and then zipped the sleeping bag back up the rest of the way. Then, leaning back down against him and lifting her torso up by her stomach muscles alone, she managed to pull off her shirt, setting it on top of his bag beside them. She lay down against him with all her weight and squeezed her arms around him as tightly as she could as she continued to shiver. She willed her body heat to transfer to his, hoping that she was warm enough by this point to make a difference.
"I have to say, going outside was totally worth it," he said into her ear. "If I'd known that was how to get you to take your shirt off…" He was being funny once again, but his voice was still shaking hard. It was the kind of thing she knew he didn't mean, because he'd never try to get her to do something like that, or anything else that she didn't want to do all on her own. He had too much respect for her, and she knew it. Again, he was trying to make her feel better by joking with her, knowing that she was worried out of her mind about him.
"Shut up, Weller. I'd punch you right now, except that I don't want to hurt you. I owe you one, though. Don't forget that."
"It's still worth it. And I may have to use this technique again," he told her, which only made her worry more about him.
She breathed in deeply, trying to calm down. "Dammit, Kurt. I hate you, you know that, right?" Her voice broke then, however, and she knew that she was close to tears.
He had no allusions about what she meant. She didn't hate him, not even close. I love you, too, Jane, he thought.
As far as she could tell, he was still shivering just as hard as he'd been the entire time, even now that she was wrapped around him. She was about to cry from frustration, her eyes squeezed shut. Her breath caught in her throat the more she thought about the fact that she had no idea what else to do for him if what she was doing didn't work… She was panicking, she knew, but she couldn't stop. Suddenly she felt tears in her eyes, but she knew that she absolutely couldn't cry on him – if for no other reason than because, as he'd said, he had to stay dry. Moisture would only make him colder. She grabbed for her shirt, just outside the sleeping bag, then lifted her head and wiped quickly, roughly against her eyes.
I don't know what else to do, she thought, now shaking just as much as Kurt, but with panic, not cold.
Kurt slowly began to feel himself shivering less, felt the fog in his head clearing. What he noticed first was that Jane was clinging to him with a ferocity that he hadn't thought that even she possessed, and that her whole body was now shaking, even though she wasn't cold. She's… crying, he realized in dismay.
She's worried about you, of course, the voice in his head said.
She was surprised and relieved when she felt his arms squeeze around her tightly for the first time since she'd been laying on top of him again, which had been several minutes that had felt like hours to her. "Hey," he whispered near her ear, "it's going to be okay. I'm okay."
"You'd better be," she said, her voice shaking hard, betraying just how upset she was. "You can't leave me alone. Not here or anywhere else."
"I'm not going anywhere, Jane," he whispered reassuringly, holding onto her just as tightly.
That was when she noticed that he was shivering less, and that the car was now feeling very warm, thanks to the heat. Suddenly realizing that she was laying on top of him in only her bra and jeans, and feeling self-conscious for the first time, she started to reach for her shirt. After all, her whole torso – her back especially, along with her arms – was covered with scars that she'd worked hard to hide for months now. His arms, which had been wrapped around her back for several minutes now, clamped around her harder, his hand capturing her left arm before she'd had a chance to pick up her shirt again.
He'd felt her tense up suddenly, and, as if proof of his improving mental state, he knew what she had been about to do, and why. "Not yet," he'd whispered, and she'd hesitated. Was he saying that because he still needed her warmth, or because he was trying to prove a point? Or was it both? As she lay still, wondering why he'd said that, she realized that the longer she lay there with his arms around her bare skin, the less self-conscious she felt about her scars. She felt one of his hands rubbing the middle of her back, and she cringed involuntarily when his hand ran over one of her bigger scars. He only pulled her tighter, then brought his hand to where he knew his name was, leaving it flat against her skin there, moving his thumb back and forth gently.
As she slowly calmed down and regained her bearings, she realized that her remaining tears had dried on her face, she was now breathing normally, and that, to her relief, he was as well. Lifting herself up slowly and leaning over him once again, stopping when there were still six inches between their faces, she slowly set her elbows against his shoulders just like before. Now, she marveled at the feeling of being in the same position without so many layers of clothing between them. It was amazing the difference that those two small points of skin to skin contact – well, in addition to the rest, where their shirts had once been – and how it suddenly seemed to change so much.
And then, because her mind suddenly wound itself forward by more than a few steps, she thought harder about the fact that she was lying on top of him, both of them half naked.
He felt her tense suddenly, watching a shadow cross her face as she looked searchingly into his eyes. He simply smiled up at her, the Only For Jane smile, the one that had always been a mix of devotion and love and understanding and fondness and so many other things, she couldn't possibly have identified them all. All she knew was, that look made it all okay. She smiled back at him, relaxing again, and leaned her forehead down against his, allowing their noses to press together. Her eyes had fallen closed, but somehow she could feel him still smiling at her.
Opening her eyes again, she saw that she was right. He was smiling at her. And then, because it simply felt like the right thing to do, she leaned the rest of the way down and pressed her lips against his, feeling him kiss her back without a second's hesitation. It was different that any of their previous three kisses - maybe because of what they'd just been through, combined with the fact that they didn't have an audience this time, like their third kiss, or because it wasn't their first time, as it had been outside his apartment building, nor was there the frustration of having been unceremoniously banned from the FBI building, as she'd felt momentarily when he'd kissed her for the second time... This kiss took its time, ending breathlessly.
Even though she'd kissed him immediately after realizing that they were laying there without shirts on, she hadn't put the two together. As she leaned back to catch her breath, however, that was when she suddenly did, for a second she froze, opening her eyes to look down at him, slightly panicked and not sure what to expect. But he just smiled back at her, that same smile yet again, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then reached over with his right hand and picked up the shirt that she'd stripped off so quickly. Consulting the tag for the right way to hold it, he then held it out for her so that she could slip her head through without having to use her arms. After that, of course, she head to lean away from him and get her arms back thorough the holes before she could pull the shirt down over her. As she did, he scooted himself back, slowly sitting up but making sure not to let her lose her balance. As a result, less than a minute later she sat straddled on his lap, his legs still extended in front of him. She handed him his shirt as well, allowing him to take over. They also replaced their middle layers – their sweatshirt and sweater, respectively, then adding their fleeces on top.
Still straddled on his lap, she simply leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder as he pulled his arms around her tightly. "Let's get going," he said. "We should be there in an hour or so."
Nodding against his shoulder, she then sat up slowly and climbed off of his lap, unfolding her legs so that she could climb back into the front seat.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked him, suddenly wondering if she should take a turn.
He smiled at her and nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm fine. And getting hungry, so let's get going." As she settled into her seat and buckled her seatbelt, he climbed back into his seat as well, glancing at her again as he clicked his seatbelt into place.
"Do we have enough gas to last us?" she asked, keeping her eyes focused on him. It was already getting dark, as the time ticked up to 5:00.
"We should," he replied, "but we'll stop at the next chance we get and fill up, just to be sure." That seemed like the best idea to both of them just then.
She felt incredibly far away from him then, sitting all the way across the center console from after lying on top of him for the past few hours. Unable to help but watch him, she turned in her chair and lay her left cheek against the seat, pulling her legs up to curl them up on the seat beside her.
He had to force himself to look away from the smile on her face, and to keep from reaching out to her. Having sent a text to Sarah to let her know that they were no longer stuck, and were now on their way once more, he returned to the task at hand – getting them safely to Clearfield. Knowing that he needed to use both of his hands on the wheel, as the road was bound to be slippery without warning, he took one last look at her, smiling, and then shifted the car into Drive. They had another hour or so to go, assuming the roads were alright and the weather held out.
The tiny ice crystals that had been pelting him in the face outside were still blowing in the wind, but at least conditions hadn't gotten any worse. Driving through the path he'd cleared through the snow, he eased back up onto the road, his eyes peeled for the next gas station. Glancing at Jane again for just a fraction of a second, he saw that she had already fallen asleep. He smiled to himself, warmed by the knowledge that this time, he hadn't failed her.