So, I managed to write another fic. This was supposed to be just a short drabble for badthinghappenbingo, but it kind of exploded. The prompt is Kick Them While They Are Down. The whole idea took root from a talk with eblonde (glove you, my fellow whumper) when we lamented that it's always Kurt worrying over Jane and not vice versa. So, this little plot bunny surfaced. Timeline is s4 sometime after 4x12.

Indelible Evidence and Heather, thank you for being my sounding boards and beta.

Disclamer: Still just a fan, not making any money. All rights belong to Martin Gero & co.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Chapter 1

Kurt was walking down the street, and put his phone back in his pocket after typing a message. Lifting his eyes again, he suddenly saw a man blocking his way on the street. When he was about to sidestep the man and continue on his way, he felt the tip of a knife in his side and a strong grip on his shoulder.

"Give me your phone and your wallet!" The man gave him a forceful shove, making him back away from the street into the alley.

"Okay, okay. Take it easy." Kurt raised his hands in front of him disarmingly, sizing up the situation. There were four men. They looked to be in their late teens, and at least one of them was armed with a knife. They were gang members by the looks of it. If he'd have to guess he bet they had other weapons besides the knife. Two of them were now behind him and the others in front and to his side. They had the superior numbers and he was unarmed so he thought it best to just to give them what they wanted. Money could be replaced.

He handed over his phone, the thug quickly snatching it from him.

The one to Kurt's side shoved him slightly. "Wallet. Come on!"

"Hey! What's this?!" The ringleader in front of him asked and grabbed Kurt's metallic FBI badge from his belt as he was reaching inside his jacket.

The man peered at the badge closely, as he took Kurt's wallet and slipped it in his pocket. "This guy's a Fed!"

Kurt was about to reply when a blow landed on his back, the suddenness leaving him dazed for a moment and he stumbled.

Before he could recover, a punch connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"Hold him. I'm not done with this guy," Kurt heard the leader say, and felt two men grab his arms in a vice grip. As he was starting to struggle against their hold, the next hit landed on his face, jarring his brain. Blood started dripping down, he could feel the warmth of it trailing down his face.

"This is like Christmas." The thug spoke with glee as Kurt groaned when the few following punches hit his ribs. "I've dreamed of getting my hands on a Fed."

Kurt gasped as the successive hooks landed in his solar plexus, leaving him trying to gasp for air amidst the pain.

"My brother is in prison for a bank robbery, thanks to your friends!"

He couldn't help a pained yelp, when the following punch hit his side again and he felt his ribs crack, even with the blood rushing in his ears. He faintly realized that the force was multiplied by the brass knuckles the man had slipped on at some point.

"Hurts, huh?" his attacker goaded him. "Good!"

The next blow to Kurt's stomach almost made him retch. The beating had gone on for what felt like hours to him. He couldn't even struggle anymore, slumping against the grip of the two thugs holding him. His whole existence seemed to consist of a red fog of agony surrounding him. Another wail escaped him as the fist connected with his abdomen. He felt like curling up into a ball but he couldn't, the younger men pulling him upright only to land another hit.

"Come on, leave him! There's cops somewhere around, I can hear sirens," the fourth, acting as lookout, said.

Kurt's captors released him and he collapsed on the ground.

"Get his ring, dude! We can sell that too."

Hearing that, Kurt made a fist and shielded his arm under him, trying to prevent them from taking his wedding ring. But it was no use, a vicious kick landed in his stomach and he rolled with the force of it. One of the thugs grabbed his arm and tried to pry his fingers open. When that failed, he stomped on Kurt's hand, causing him to cry out in pain and open his hand. There was no fight left in Kurt; he couldn't stop them from slipping his wedding ring off his finger. All he could feel was a pounding in his head and a searing agony in his stomach and sides.

Giving Kurt a final parting kick, they left him lying motionless in the dark alley, dropping his FBI badge next to him.

He couldn't move, every breath was like knives stabbing his lungs. He groaned weakly, and then everything went black.

Jane was pacing in front of the balcony door in their apartment, getting increasingly nervous. Kurt had left for the store a few blocks away a little over an hour ago, and now she couldn't reach him. She had tried to call him, but all she got was an automated message saying "the number you are trying to call is not reachable".

At first, she thought that maybe the store had long lines, as it sometimes did, but as time wore on, she grew more alarmed. She had tried calling and texting him. She kept telling herself that maybe the battery in his phone had died. She had even texted Reade in case he'd heard from Kurt, but Reade said he hadn't spoken to Weller since they had left work. Jane glanced at her phone to check the time; it was almost eight.

She decided she could no longer just wait at home. She had to do something. She'd walk to the store, see if she could spot him along the way. Decision made, Jane walked to the coat rack, putting on her jacket and taking her keys from the breakfast bar, shoving them in her pocket. She grabbed a post-it note, scribbling a quick note on it for Kurt to call her if he got home before her. Just as she was about to head to the door, there was a knock. Kurt.

She opened the door, stunned to find two NYPD officers standing there.

"Jane Doe?"

She raised her eyebrow questioningly "Yes?"

"Are you the wife of Kurt Weller?"

Jane felt a chill running down her spine at the question. This could not be good. "I am. What is it?"

"Mrs. Weller, your husband was found badly beaten near Court Street. He's been taken to the ER."

Jane got out from the NYPD detectives' car and walked briskly to the hospital receptionist, gathering her resolve. She had no idea how badly Kurt was injured, but from what the officers told her it sounded serious.

The receptionist offered her a kind smile. "How can I help you?"

"My husband, Special Agent Kurt Weller, was brought in here about an hour ago. I'm his emergency contact." Jane spoke, showing her driver's license to the woman. "He was brought into the ER, I think. Is he still there, or have they transferred him somewhere?" Jane felt she was starting to ramble, but the anxiety and uncertainty were starting to creep in.

"Hold on, let me check…Yes, he was admitted to the ER, and according to this information he's currently in surgery. Walk to the elevator at the end of the hall and then take it to the 6th floor."

Jane flashed a quick, grateful smile at the receptionist. "Thank you."

Jane had spent the last hour alternately pacing up and down the waiting room and trying to push away the worst-case scenarios in her mind. She had no idea how badly Kurt was injured. What if he was so severely hurt that he had to quit the FBI? It would devastate him. What if he died on the operating table? What if, what if, what if…

She slumped down in a chair, feeling the tears in her eyes as she drew in a shuddering breath, trying to rein in the fear of losing her husband. They had gone through so much, only to have him taken away after everything, simply because some thugs had wanted money and Kurt had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. It was unfair.

Jane wasn't sure show much time had passed when a doctor in scrubs came through the door into the waiting room.

He looked around the room, at the few people sitting there besides Jane. "The family of Kurt Weller?"

At the mention of Kurt's name Jane snapped out of her trance and stood up quickly.

"Yes, I'm his wife," she addressed the man, whom she estimated to be around her age. "How is he?" She asked, afraid of the answer.

"I'm Dr. Kelsey. I'm the trauma surgeon treating your husband." He motioned to an adjacent room, asking Jane to sit so that they would have some privacy.

She knew he could probably see the anxiety on her face as she waited for him to speak.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Mrs. Weller. He was very badly beaten and he's in a serious condition."

Jane felt her heart sink at the doctor's words.

"When he was brought into the ER, we determined that he had numerous broken ribs and a pneumothorax, as well as an injury to his left hand, along with some cuts and bruises consistent with an assault. An ultrasound also indicated he had a major bleed in his abdomen, so we prepared him for surgery and took him into the operating room for an emergency laparotomy."

Jane struggled to bite back the sob that threatened to escape. She closed her eyes for a moment, maintaining a tenuous grip on her composure. After a moment she nodded to have the doctor continue.

"We discovered the source of the bleeding to be a severe liver laceration that your husband suffered as a result of the blunt force trauma. We were able to stop the bleed and fix the laceration."

"Can I see him?" The look in Jane's eyes was pleading.

"He's in recovery right now, and if all goes well, he should be moved to the ICU in a couple of hours. You can see him then. We need to monitor him closely in case the bleeding starts again. The next couple of days will determine how things will go. A nurse will come and get you when he's in the ICU."

"Thank..thank you, Doctor."

The cup of coffee in Jane's hand had turned cold, and she grimaced in disgust at the bitterness of the liquid, opting to toss the cup in the trash. She wasn't drinking the coffee to stay awake or to keep warm. She simply needed something to do. Jane had updated the team on the situation, turning down their offers to join her. There was nothing they could do right now.

She glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall; close to midnight. Dr. Kelsey had stopped by well over an hour ago, but there was still no news of Kurt. Jane squeezed her eyes shut, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to banish the worst-case scenarios from her mind. What if he had started bleeding again? What if they can't stop it and he dies on the operating table?

What if she lost Kurt? Her heart shattered at the thought, and she felt a lump in her throat. Kurt had been with her through everything, with scarcely a protest or a word said in anger. From Roman's manipulation and death, to her reverting to Remi, and her almost dying of ZIP. Despite everything she had put him through, he had always been there for her, to support her and to carry her, both figuratively and literally. She realized she had almost taken him for granted, and the thought of losing him, the thought of a future without him, felt like a sledgehammer to her chest.

"Mrs. Weller?"

Jane was broken out of her dark thoughts by the name. "Yes."

"Hi. My name is Erin. I'm one of the nurses in the ICU."

Jane looked at the woman, somehow soothed by her kind smile and warm tone. She was maybe in her late 40s, wearing purple nurse's scrubs, and she had long, dark hair that was neatly braided.

She handed Jane a large Ziplock bag. "These are the personal effects that your husband had on him when he was brought into the ER."

Jane looked at the bag. It contained Kurt's home and car keys, and his FBI badge.

"His wedding ring is not here. Was it removed in the ER?"

"Those are all the personal effects he had on him when he was brought in. If he was wearing his wedding ring when he was brought in, it should be there. That's all I know, sorry."

"Okay. Thank you." Jane nodded solemnly. The NYPD said he had been robbed as well as beaten, so the robbers must have taken his ring too.

The other woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "I can take you to see him now, if you'd like."

"Yes. Please." Jane felt both relief and trepidation at the thought of seeing Kurt again. How badly was he hurt? She knew that he would not be in the ICU without a very good reason.

Erin led Jane through the doors of the ICU and to a small space that was lined off with a curtain. She moved the curtain and motioned for Jane to go inside as she followed.

That was the first time Jane had seen Kurt in almost 6 hours. She felt the lump rise in her throat again.

He looked incredibly pale, the medical equipment surrounding his bed making him look vulnerable, almost small. He had a large bruise forming on his cheek, and an inch-long nasty-looking red cut by his eyebrow. His left hand was bruised and somewhat swollen. Jane felt a pang in her chest as she realized his wedding ring was, indeed, gone.

As vivid as those injuries were, she knew the most serious ones were the ones she could not see. He had various wires snaking out from under his hospital gown, monitoring his heart and his vitals. He also had two drains, their tubes and containers resting on the bed next to him.

Jane released a shuddering breath. "Can I…Can I touch him?" She asked in a small voice.

Erin gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course you can," she spoke gently and pulled up a chair for Jane to sit in. "Here, take a seat. You'll be more comfortable. I'll give you some time alone with him. He was just brought in from recovery, so it might still be a couple of hours before he starts waking up, " she smiled kindly and took a step outside the curtain. "I'll be right there by the desk, if you have any questions or if you need anything."

"Thank you."

With that, she was gone, leaving Jane alone with Kurt in the cubicle.

Jane reached out, running her hand through his hair. "Oh, Kurt." Her mind flashed back to the last time she had sat beside him like this, with him gravely injured. She was consumed with shame and guilt. She had been Remi then, and Kurt had been her enemy. It had been an act, and she remembered thinking the only reason she wanted him to survive was because she needed to know where Shepherd was.

But now she couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine, a life without him. Not after all they had endured, both separately and as a couple. The thought of losing him terrified her. It would be the cruelest twist of fate, if he died as a result of something so random.

She caressed his cheek gingerly, swallowing her tears. "What did they do to you?" She spoke in a trembling whisper, although she knew he probably wouldn't hear her. She thought of him, lying in that alley alone, in pain and bleeding. Had he been awake the whole time, but in such agony he could neither move nor cry for help? Or had he been unconscious, the cold from the ground seeping into his body from the outside as the shock from the internal injuries was taking hold from the inside.

It broke her heart to know that he had been in an alley not two blocks from their apartment. Try as she might, she couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer. She whimpered as she tried to suppress a sob, as the force of what had almost happened hit her. If it hadn't been for the luck of someone coming into that alley, and the kindness of strangers, he might have died today. And she knew there was a possibility he still might, if complications arose. She took his uninjured hand and gave it a light squeeze, taking care not to disturb the IV catheter.

"I need you to wake up, Kurt. I need to know you'll be okay."

Kurt slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was still too exhausted to do anything, so he lay there, trying to take stock of things. He had a faint recollection of waking up earlier and someone asking him something, but he didn't remember even answering them. The only thing he remembered was the sensation of the blood pressure cuff tightening on his arm regularly.

Right now, his head still felt fuzzy. His arms were like lead, as were his eyelids. It felt like everything hurt, especially his chest and his stomach. His mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Well, at least he wasn't intubated, he noted. But the taste…it tasted like he'd drunk iodine or some other disinfectant. His brow furrowed in pain as he tried to swallow, feeling like someone was running a piece of sandpaper down his throat.

"Kurt?" The question, spoken by the voice he would recognize anywhere, was tentative. He could hear the emotion in her tone, as the backs of her fingers stroked his forehead.

He fought to open his eyes, managing to open them enough to see Jane's concerned form hovering above him as she leaned in closer.

"Hey," she smiled at him tenderly, bringing her hand from his forehead to his cheek.

"Jane." His whisper was hoarse and it felt even the air hurt in his throat. He winced at the feeling.

"Shh…Lie still. You just got out of surgery a couple of hours ago." She sat down in the chair beside his bed, taking his hand. Even through the fog that was his mind right now, her touch tore through it, easing the anxiety prowling the edges of his consciousness. He didn't know why, but he felt somehow uneasy. He gripped her hand, her presence calming him.

"Water," he pleaded. He was terribly thirsty. He'd do anything for a drink of water.

Jane sighed, her thumb stroking the back of his hand. "You can't have anything to drink yet. I'm sorry. They don't want to risk you throwing up because of the anesthetic. But you can have some ice chips, if that helps?"

He mumbled an affirmation, closing his eyes in exhaustion as she spooned a bit of ice into his mouth, and it relieved the dryness and soreness in his throat as it melted. He fought to open his eyes again, but they were so heavy.

Jane caressed his arm, her soft whisper comforting in his ear. "Don't fight it, Kurt." She pressed a feather-light kiss on the cut by his eyebrow.

Too tired to speak, he squeezed her hand with as much strength as he could muster in his weakened condition. His breathing was quickening again, anxiety threatening to cocoon him in a black shroud. It was like her presence was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.

Jane had noticed his distress. "It's okay," she soothed him, running her free hand through his hair. "I'm right here."

As she kept stroking his hair and murmuring gentle reassurances to him, his body relaxed, the lingering sedation slowly pulling him under again.

It had been a little over 36 hours since Kurt had been brought into the ICU. The doctors were still worried, as his lab results showed some elevated values and also his vitals were still somewhat unstable. He had been awake some brief moments but he was still heavily medicated, so what time he had spent awake wasn't exactly lucid.

He had been anxious, saying something as if he had been talking to his attackers, nearly tearing out some of the various wires and tubes attached to him if it hadn't been for Jane. She had been able to calm him down, by holding his hand and whispering soothingly to him, assuring him that he was in the hospital and that he was safe. She had barely left his side since she had been allowed in, wanting to be there if he needed her.

Jane jerked awake, her own exhaustion starting to win. She suppressed a wince, straightening in her chair. ICU chairs weren't the most comfortable, but she was grateful Erin and the other nurses had let her stay when they could have asked her to leave. She glanced at the monitor showing Kurt's vitals. He seemed to be stable for now. She trailed her hand up and down his arm slowly, the touch being as important to her as it probably was to him.

A couple of minutes later, Erin stepped into the cubicle from between the curtain. Jane realized that she must have just come back for another shift.

"Hi," she greeted Jane warmly, as she went to take Kurt's vitals and to check the different medical devices attached to him. "I heard you had a bit of a scare earlier."

Jane's voice was full of worry, as she gave the nurse a sad look, taking Kurt's hand in hers again. "Yeah. Kurt was in pain and anxious, so he almost tore off some of the equipment."

"Confusion is normal after surgery. Some people just react more strongly. But I know it must seem scary."

"I've just never seen him like this."

Erin touched Jane's shoulder briefly, the gesture feeling comforting to Jane. She smiled, noting something on Kurt's chart before turning to look at Jane again. "He's improving. His vitals have stabilized a bit.

Jane chanced a small smile at that tidbit of good information, but her smile was soon interrupted by a yawn.

"Mrs. Weller–,"

Jane shook her head, interrupting the nurse. "Jane, please. I can't deal with formalities right now."

Erin tilted her head, observing her for a moment before she went on. "Jane, when is the last time you ate?"

Jane had to wrack her brain for a moment to figure out the answer. "Yesterday, at lunch, I think. I stopped by the cafeteria to get a fruit cup."

The nurse sighed. "I can see you're almost dead on your feet. Why don't you go home, eat something and get some rest, before you get admitted into the hospital too."

Jane's headshake was almost vehement, emotion evident in her voice as she spoke. "I can't leave Kurt. What if something happens?"

The other woman knelt beside her chair. "Jane, if there is one place where Kurt is constantly monitored, it's here. We're never more than a few steps away. You're going to need some sleep before he's moved to a regular ward, because he will need you more when he's awake," Erin coaxed. "So, please go home to get some food and rest for a few hours. We'll call you if anything happens, I promise."

Jane gave a tired nod, knowing she was right. "Okay. But I'll be back in a few hours."

Erin smiled at that and got up. "That's perfectly fine. I'll get you the number to our nurses' desk so you can call us to let you in."

As she left, Jane turned her attention back to Kurt. He looked to be peacefully asleep, his face relaxed and free of pain. She reached out to stroke his hair gently. "I'm going to go home for a few hours, Kurt," she whispered to him. She leaned in, kissing his cheek softly. "You just rest, I'll be back soon."

With that, she cast one final look at him and left the cubicle.

Almost an hour later, Jane unlocked the apartment door. She gave a weary sigh as she threw her jacket onto the couch and dumped her keys on the breakfast bar. There was a note at the end of it that caught her attention. Picking it up, she recognized the handwriting.

Janie,

I know it will probably be a couple of days before you even consider leaving the hospital, but you must be home if you're reading this. You're probably worried sick about the Grumpy Munchkin, and don't feel like eating, much less cooking. But you do need the food. For that, there's a dish of vegan lasagna in the fridge for you, made with the recipe I got from Patty. So please, eat and get some sleep to recover your strength. Someone has to keep an eye on your when Kurt can't (and he'd kill us if anything happened to you in his absence.)

Your faithful servant,

Rich"

Jane smiled at the thoughtful gesture, although she wasn't completely sure how she felt about handing Rich a key to their apartment. Then again, knowing Rich, he'd have picked his way in anyway." As if anticipating her thoughts, he had added a P.S to the note.

"Don't worry, I didn't go snooping around your apartment, Scout's honor. Pattycakes let me in and saw me out."

Jane actually laughed aloud at that. Rich! He was something else. Smiling, she replaced the note on the table before going to the fridge to inspect the meal Rich had cooked for her.