OK, so this fic has been a long time coming. I started writing this months ago, soon after the S4 finale and it has been slooowww. Major writers block, and life obstacles along the way. Thank you my lovely beta as always, for cheering me on and suggesting corrections. Also thanks to Indelible Evidence and eblonde for listening to me and cheering me on.

Please leave a note and let me know what you think. You'd make my day.

Darkest Before the Dawn

Jane stared at the remains of the cabin dumbfounded, like she was frozen in place. Slowly, despair and terror surfaced as reality hit her.

The team. Kurt. Oh no. Please, God, no.

She took off at a run, heading for the pile of rubble that moments earlier had been their cabin. Her breath hitched, a pained wail escaped her as she started to dig through the rubble, desperately trying to find anything that might tell her that Kurt and the others were alive.

She gasped and coughed, frantically trying to move the burning pieces of wood and the debris, trying to find any sign of Kurt and the rest of the team. No, this isn't happening. Not again. Breath caught in her throat, the weight of the situation nearly crushing her. An anguished scream broke from her lips, tears brimming her eyes, clouding her vision. "Kurt!" She heaved a piece of metal away, hissing as a sharp angle cut through her glove and into her skin. "Patterson!"

There's nothing here... there's no way they can still be alive. "Reade! Kurt!"

She didn't know how long she had been digging when she dropped to her knees and buried her head in her hands. Her breathing hitched, and she whimpered as the tears came. They're gone.

In her grief, for a moment she thought that she was hallucinating when she heard Patterson's voice calling for her.

"Jane!"

Jane whipped around, seeing a dusty and battered Patterson climb out of the ground a couple of hundred feet away. She got up and took off at a sprint. "Patterson!"

Coughing, an almost unrecognizable Patterson climbed out of a hatch.

Kneeling by her friend, Jane stared at her in disbelief and glanced down, seeing Reade climbing out behind her. She could feel a small smile of relief on her lips. "How did you..?"

"We got a call, telling us to get in the tunnel, and –"

"Where's Kurt? "

"He's still in the tunnel, Tasha is trying to help him." Patterson's eyes had an anxious look. "Jane, he's injured."

Jane's momentary elation at her friends' survival turned into worry, as the lead-weight of fear settled into the pit of her stomach. "Will you be okay here, if I go to him?"

Patterson nodded. "Do you have your phone? We need to get in touch with Ice Cream, we're going to need some help."

Jane fumbled through her jacket pockets, digging out her phone and passing it to her friend, before she went on to descend into the darkness of the tunnel. She blinked for a moment, getting used to the low light. She smelled the musty air, mixed with a faint smell of something she couldn't place lingering from the explosion.

The tunnel was narrow, maybe two feet wide and four feet high. It had a few dull bulbs lining the wall, so it wasn't shrouded in complete darkness. Up ahead, Jane saw a faint cloud of dust lingering in the air, outlining a kneeling figure on the ground behind what seemed like a wooden beam.

Getting closer, she coughed as the air grew thicker with dust. "Tasha! Kurt!"

"Jane, over here!" Came Tasha's relieved reply, as she moved closer to Jane, their eyes meeting as she nodded towards Kurt.

"Kurt!" His name escaped her lips almost like a sob and she scrambled over the fallen beam as Tasha scooted back to let her through and headed for the hatch.

Jane reached for his face with trembling hands, tracing her fingers over his cheeks as she pressed her face into his neck, inhaling his scent. "Oh God, I thought I'd lost you," she murmured breathlessly into him and pressed a kiss to his neck.

His arm wrapped around her loosely. "Jane…" Her name came out as a pained exhale and he descended into a coughing fit which morphed into a long, low groan of pain.

"I'm here." She drew back slightly, trying to get a look at his injuries but the dust and the darkness of the tunnel made it impossible to see anything in detail.

Patterson had warned her that Kurt was the last one into the tunnel, so he had taken the brunt of the blast. Just because she couldn't see, didn't mean he was uninjured. She could hear his labored breathing; she knew he was hurting.

She stroked his face. "Where does it hurt?"

His reply came haltingly, reinforcing Jane's fear that he was badly hurt.

"My chest and side," he ground out, and screamed in pain as he tried to move. "And…my knee. I think…I think it's broken.

Jane gingerly placed her hand to the knee, causing him to yelp in pain at the touch. "Sorry." She carefully felt around his knee. "It may be dislocated." She touched his cheek again. "We've got help coming and we'll get you out, okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes, nodding shakily.

It had taken them two hours and a half a dozen people before they had been able to extricate Kurt from the tunnel. Ice Cream had agreed to bring a medic with him, along with a few "associates" as he called them, and to arrange a new safehouse.

The medic had examined all of the team who had been caught in the explosion, and the others had gotten off lightly, with the exception of Kurt. Patterson and Tasha had some cuts and bruises, along with a nasty bump for Tasha as she had been knocked into the tunnel's support beams from the force of the blast. Reade had a deep gash on his arm from somewhere, some cuts on his forehead and probably a couple of broken ribs that would heal in time on their own.

As suspected, Kurt had borne the worst of it. The medic had been concerned that Kurt might have spinal injuries, but fortunately things weren't quite that serious. He likely had a couple of broken ribs, and Jane was right, his knee had been dislocated. But the worst were the burns he had sustained. His left side and arm had some nasty-looking burns. The medic had told them the injuries would be better treated in a hospital because of the infection risk, but begrudgingly agreed to help them get settled in the safehouse and re-set Kurt's knee.

They entered the new safehouse, the medic and another man carrying Kurt on a collapsible military stretcher, and Jane a couple of steps behind them.

"Bedroom," the medic said to the other man in Icelandic, nodding toward a small room as they entered.

Jane noted this cabin was larger than the previous one. There was a small living room with an old worn out couch and a couple of chairs, and a small sleeping loft above it. A kitchenette flanked the door to the cabin. A bathroom next to that, and in the far corner was the single bedroom. Turning her attention from the layout back to Kurt, she followed the trio into the room.

Kurt cried out as the men helped him onto the bed. The other man collapsed the stretcher and left, leaving the medic and Jane in the room with Kurt. Luckily, the medic spoke English well, so Jane did not have to interpret what he said. She wasn't sure if she was in the right mindset to do that, concern for Kurt occupying her thoughts.

Cutting Kurt's shirt open with a pair of trauma shears, the medic looked first at Jane and then at Kurt. "What I will do is going to hurt you. I have to take your shirt off to see the burns and treat them. Then we set your knee. Are you sure you don't want stronger painkiller?"

They had given Kurt some strong ibuprofen, but Jane could see he was still in quite a lot of pain.

"No." He simply replied, reaching for Jane's hand with his good arm. She took his hand, squeezing it as she sat on the side of the bed.

"Kurt…"

"No, Jane." He gave her a pained, if determined look. "What if we have to move again? What if –." His answer was cut off by his own scream, as the medic removed the shirt.

He squeezed her hand, hard. Jane bit her lip to suppress a gasp when she saw the burns on his shoulder and side. Some were red-raw first-degree burns, but the worst ones were starting to blister. Second- degree burns.

The medic dug into his backpack "I'm sorry. I need to clean the burns and dress them."

"Okay,." Kurt grunted, turning his head away and staring at the ceiling. He was panting, trying to keep himself from screaming as the medic worked.

Jane leaned in close to Kurt, speaking to him in a tender tone. "Hey, look at me."

The look in his eyes would haunt Jane. He tried to stay quiet and keep it together, but his eyes told her he was in agony.

She caressed his knuckles, shushing him. "It's okay."

He flinched as the medic touched a particularly wounded area in his side, and howled in pain, no longer able to keep quiet.

Jane's heart shattered. Kurt had always been her rock: from the moment they met, through Shepherd's twisted mind games, to Roman's death and ZIP. But now he was trapped in nightmare and there was hardly anything she could do.

She stroked his cheek, hoping to soothe him. "It's almost done," she reassured him, hoping that he didn't notice the catch in her voice.

A few minutes later, the man nodded at Jane, and stood up.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment as the medic got to his feet. He felt Jane's soft touch on his cheek, and leaned into it. It was comforting, gentle. Focusing on her touch helped take his mind off the pulsing pain invading his body. Despite the painkillers, it was as if every nerve ending in his body was telegraphing that something was very, very wrong. He winced quietly as a lightning sharp sensation hit his side.

Jane had noticed his torment. She leaned in, kissing his temple and staying close. He felt her warm breath on his neck as she murmured soothing words to him. "Shhh…I know. I know, Kurt. Won't be much longer."

She sat up, the look in her eyes suffering as they met his. "He still needs to set your knee." She spoke quietly, her tone apologetic.

He watched as the medic cut open the first one leg of his jeans with a pair of trauma shears and then the other. He let out a yelp as the shears skimmed over his swollen knee. The muscles around his knee felt like they were being pulled from the bone.

"Sorry, you will need a new pair of jeans," the man joked with an affable smile. He seemed to know what he was doing as he ran his hands over Kurt's ankle, feeling for a pulse and nodding to himself.

He looked first at Kurt and then at Jane. "This is doctor's job usually. We should take you to –"

Kurt shook his head forcefully, glaring. They couldn't risk it. "No! You need to do it."

Jane looked like she was about to protest, but whatever she had intended to say died on her lips as he looked at her, hoping she could read the love in his eyes as he reached for her hand and held it. "I can't put you in danger."

Turning back, he met the medic's eye. "I trust you."

Despite his words, Kurt swallowed a lump in his throat, choosing to look up at the ceiling again. Jane's thumb caressed the back of his hand, her other hand stroking his hair.

Feeling the medic grasp his leg, his breathing quickened in anticipation of the pain. The medic was explaining what he was going to do, but Kurt couldn't focus on his words.

"Ready? One… two.."

The next thing he knew was his world exploding in agony. His entire body tensed: he saw a bright flash and then he nearly blacked out as he let out a long shriek and cursed. "FUUUUUCK!" His heart pounded and his broken ribs protested as he gasped for breath, fighting through the red mist of misery that consumed him.

But at least he had Jane. She had moved so that he was cradled in her lap, and she held him close, cautious of his injuries. She didn't speak, her touches and eyes saying more than words ever could. He felt her hand caress his stubbled cheek and she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.

He noticed the medic was talking to him, but the fog in his brain prevented him from processing the words. "What?" He ground out.

"That is all I can do," the man said, speaking slow, making sure Kurt heard him this time. "You need to keep weight off your leg, at least two weeks. And keep ice on it." He glanced at Jane and then back at Kurt. "Your burns, I will give your wife instructions for treating them."

As if on cue, the burns made their presence known, a sharp throbbing pain tearing his side as he made the mistake of moving on the bed. Kurt sucked in a sharp breath.

Regarding him in worried silence for a couple of seconds, the medic continued: "Do you want some morphine?"

Kurt took a deep breath, shaking his head. He hoped his voice sounded normal as he declined the man's offer. He needed to keep a clear head if they needed to run from this safehouse.

The medic might have been fooled, but Jane wasn't. "Kurt…"

"I'm okay, Jane," he tried to reassure her, grimacing as he turned to look at her.

"Please don't lie to me." She brushed a hand down his arm, her thumb coming to rest on his fist that gripped the sheet. "You're in pain." The pleading, vulnerable look in her eyes tugged at his heart strings. He had managed to hurt her again. He was about to apologize, when she continued. "I know you want be ready to move, and that you hate relying on medication." She swallowed thickly, her voice wavering. "But I hate seeing you in agony even more." Her thumb caressed his knuckles. "You need to heal and rest, and you can't do that if you're in pain."

"I'm not taking morphine, Jane." He told her gently. He'd seen firsthand with his father what it could do, so he'd rather suffer and keep a clear head.

"I could give you fentanyl," the medic suggested. "It will ease the pain for one or two hours and you can rest. Not disorienting."

Jane leaned in close, her nose brushing his as she spoke so low, that only he could hear her. "Please, Kurt."

It was rarely that he said no to her anyway, but her desperation made it even more impossible now. And she was right, he needed some rest. "Okay," he whispered to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Jane left the bedroom, following the medic out. Patterson immediately stood up from the chair she was slumped in, and Zapata and Reade turned their attention to Jane, the tension evident on their faces. She knew they had heard his agonized scream.

"How's Weller?" Reade was the first to speak.

Jane glanced away, trying to gather her thoughts. "He's…not so good." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the emotions threatening to overtake her. She took a deep breath and faced her friends.

"His injuries are serious: he's got second-degree burns on his chest and arm, and a couple of broken ribs. The medic pulled his knee back into place…I wish we could take him to a hospital, but…"

"But it's too risky." Zapata finished her thought, giving her a sympathetic look. "What does Weller say?"

"He refused." Jane gave a sad laugh. "I was barely able to talk him into taking painkillers."

Patterson brushed her arm, her voice soft. "Kurt's strong. He'll be okay."

Jane wiped the moisture from the corner of her eye, feeling ashamed she hadn't given any thought to her friends' wellbeing. "Yeah….how are you guys? I was so worried about Kurt that I–"

"We're fine, Jane," Zapata assured her. "A bit banged up, and some sprains, but we'll be okay. You've got enough on your mind, don't worry about us, too."

"Thanks, Tasha," Jane murmured. Her nails dug into her palm as she made a fist. She needed a distraction or her worry over Kurt would consume her mind. She cleared her throat. "Kurt's not in a condition to move for at least a couple of weeks. So…what do we do next?"

"We're internationally wanted, we have to tread carefully. Madeline has control of the FBI," Reade surmised.

"Still, there must be something we can do!"

"We need to start mapping out who's still out there who can help us. Plus, try to find any information on Rich," Patterson stated, already tapping away at her laptop.

"I can use some backchannels to reach out to Keaton, and some other contacts I know I can still rust at the Agency," Tasha offered.

"Nas will help if only we can get hold of her," Patterson added.

"I'm sure there are people in the FBI still sympathetic to us, who could help dig into Madeline and the HCI Global files," Reade continued.

"Afreen!" Patterson exclaimed. "She knows we're innocent, I'm sure she'll help us if I manage to contact her."

"Just be careful." Jane cautioned. "If she's still inside the NYO, we don't want to put her at risk." She rubbed her temples, willing the exhaustion away, trying to think. "I still have some contacts from my K&R days who owe me a couple of favors… we could use them."

"Let us see what we can find first", Tasha said gently. "You focus on Weller right now. We can't have you running yourself into the ground."

Jane was about to protest that she wanted to help, but the words died on her lips. She felt the worry for Kurt gnawing at her at that very moment. SEAL or not, she couldn't override her heart. As long as Kurt was injured, he would be her main concern, whether she wanted to admit it or not. So instead of protesting, she exhaled a long breath and whispered a tired "Okay."