A/N: I have no idea where this came from. My original idea was to write a small portion of this as a dream sequence for the BSHiatusFics prompt 'dream,' but then it turned into a whole different thing, so I decided to separate it from 'The Space Between.' Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

"Hope is the thing with feathers,
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tunes without the words,
and never stops – at all."

- Emily Dickinson

She's dreaming and she knows it. She's in that place between asleep and awake when you can make anything real if you just believe it to be. Weller is there with her… she can feel his warmth against her back.

They're lying in a field of wildflowers. The last rays of the setting sun warm her skin, just as he does. She smiles at the scrape of his beard against her back as his lips press lightly to her scar. Her hips shift restlessly as his fingers blindly trace the patterns that cover her stomach, before pulling her tighter to him.

Her mind tells her she must wake from this dream, but her heart simply won't allow her to escape. It's the perfect moment, and Jane will do anything to hang on as long as she can.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the warmth is suddenly sucked from the earth. The soft grass below them becomes cold and hard. He is still there with her, pressed tightly against her, but the air becomes thick and musty, and everything goes dark.

Jane wakes with a start. Her forehead rests on her arm, which rests on the cold, hard floor. The windowless room is completely dark, save for the sliver of light that peeks from under the door. A chill runs through her body, shakes her to the core as she's reminded of where they are.

Suddenly, she hears what has most likely woken her… footsteps walking down the corridor beyond the locked door.

"Kurt," she whispers, as she sits up, extracting herself from his protective grasp.

He merely grunts in response at her sudden movement. She knows he's in pain, knows this because she is too. But they have to stay strong… they have to find any weakness… it's their only chance to get out alive.

"Kurt," she says again, this time more loudly, as her palm finds his clammy cheek in the almost pitch black. "You have to get up… they're coming."

"I hear them," he responds then.

Her hand leaves his cheek, passes over his shoulder, and wraps around his upper arm. He groans loudly as she pulls him to a seated position, his back against the wall, facing the door.

She wraps an arm around him as his head slumps to her shoulder. The burning of his feverish skin worries her. The beatings he's endured have broken at least two ribs and most likely caused internal bleeding. She feared the damage has led to an infection.

Her thoughts shift rapidly as the door suddenly swings open, revealing two of Dotcom's goons. She removes her arm from around Weller and stands, doing her best to block him from their view.

"Move," the man says, the one with the crazy eyes. She stands her ground, despite the baseball bat he's rhythmically whacking against his palm.

"MOVE," he says again more forcefully, "or you'll be sorry."

She remains resolute.

"Fine," he says then, taking a step towards her, "you asked for it."

He swings the baseball bat but she catches it with her hand. She tries to take it from him but he uses it to pull her forward, and right into his waiting fist. Her hand instantly leaves the bat as she staggers backwards, covering her right eye. The pain is instant and explosive. She hits the wall behind her and slides to the ground.

Momentarily incapacitated, she could do nothing as they grabbed ahold of Weller and dragged him through the door.

"No! Kurt!" she shouts as the door slams behind them, leaving her alone in the pitch-black room. Tears stain her cheeks as the echo of the footsteps grow more and more faint… the silence eventually taking over.

72 Hours Earlier

"Put you're hands up, you're surrounded."

Jane pressed herself tightly against the pillar. She'd emptied her last clip over three minutes ago, and Weller had just expended the last of his bullets. Weller held tight to Dotcom, his gun pressed against the man's neck, but it was all for show. They were out of ammo.

"What do we do?" Jane whispered urgently, truly scared for the first time that they weren't going to be able to escape.

Weller said nothing, just held his ground.

Suddenly a shot rang out. It pinged off the pillar hiding Jane, less than two inches from her head.

"Okay, okay!" Weller suddenly shouted. "We're putting down our weapons. Don't shoot."

"Weller!" Jane hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Looks like the jig is up, Stubbles," Dotcom laughed as he ripped his arm from Weller's grip.

Weller and Jane both dropped their weapons, and placed their hands in the air. Dotcom's men quickly surrounded them, pulled their hands behind their backs, and escorted them back into the house.

Present Time

Chilled without Weller's extra body heat to keep her warm, Jane did her best to ward off the cold. Her now-tattered dress only did so much to protect her skin from their concrete prison. Her feet were freezing… high heels long since broken and discarded in one of her many fights to free herself. She picked up Weller's tux jacket, their makeshift blanket, and wrapped it tight around her body.

Physically and mentally exhausted, she leaned her head against the wall. She still felt the shock of the hit reverberating around her skull; his knuckles had been like steel. The splitting headache she now had only intensified the pain. Pressing her forehead to the cool concrete relieved the pressure some, but she felt dizzy and slightly sick. She knew she most likely had a concussion, and she fought against the sleep that tried to overtake her.

Leaning there, Jane wondered for the thousandth time how they'd ended up where they were. Following the lead to recover the WitSec list had seemed like the right call at the time, but in retrospect, going in blind had been a stupid mistake. Weller and Jane had no idea where they were, and no idea if the team would ever be able to find them.

Dotcom's men had been grilling them for days… wanting to know exactly who they were and how they came across his 'invitation' to buy the WitSec list. She hadn't given them anything of course. Neither had Weller… but they were paying the price for it. It was only a matter of time before one of them caved… or was killed for staying silent.

She knew Weller couldn't take much more. Every time he came back, the small glimpses she got of him showed his bruises were darker, the circles under his eyes deeper, and she could feel his fever getting higher. She'd done her best to keep him going thus far, but she knew it would soon come to the point where she wouldn't be able to help him anymore.

70 Hours Earlier

They'd been in the room for barely an hour but Weller couldn't stop pacing. Jane watched as he traversed back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal just bursting to break free. She was reminded then of another instance like this from not so long ago, when they'd been helplessly trapped in the CDC. Why did her tattoos continually lead them to be trapped in small spaces?

When she'd gotten him to talk to her back then, he seemed to calm down some. She attempted to try the same thing again here.

"Kurt," she said gently, but he didn't respond. Just kept walking back and forth.

"KURT!" she shouted then, and he finally turned to look at her.

It was hard to see in the almost pitch black room, but their eyes had adjusted some – and so his came to rest on her. She'd sat down, her back against the wall, hands wrapped around her knees. She looked so small sitting there… she looked as helpless as he felt.

He sighed then, and came to sit next to her.

The coldness of the concrete floor beneath them shocked Weller, and he moved closer towards her, to share in her warmth.

"What are we going to do, Kurt?" she asked desperately as she leaned into his side.

They'd been in some serious jams before, but never like this. He honestly had no idea what to do.

"I don't know Jane," he responded. "We just have to do our best to keep our heads, and hope that we can get out of this or that the team will find us."

She nodded, unable to express her worst fears out loud.

They sat there together, in silence, for a few minutes, both thinking about the worst-case scenarios. Suddenly… footsteps echoed down the hall outside the door.

"Whatever you do, don't tell them who you are or why we're here," he whispered quickly as he took her hand in his. "We may have blown our cover, but they still don't know who we work for. We need to give the team as much time as possible to find us. Okay?"

"Okay," she promised, terrified at the thought of what was about to happen.

She squeezed his hand as the door swung open.

Present Time

Jane had succumbed to the exhaustion that had overtaken her body and mind, but she was jolted awake when the door swung open. The same two men who'd dragged Weller away, unceremoniously dumped him back inside the room.

Weller groaned as his body hit the floor, and Jane rushed to his side.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the gash over his left brow. Her hands found his face, and her fingertips floated over his skin, trying to sooth what couldn't be soothed. She felt the warm wet as her fingers grazed his fevered skin. She followed the rivulet of blood that had made its way down his cheek and chin. She cupped his face, and she felt him lean into her touch.

She went to rip off a piece of her dress to staunch the blood flow, when suddenly she was lifted off the ground.

"No!" she desperately screamed, as they carried her out of the room, "he needs help!"

The last thing she saw as she was dragged away was his bloodied face and his empty eyes.

56 Hours Earlier

He felt her shiver, and pulled her tighter against him. The makeshift cover of his tux jacket only did so much to warm them, so he tried to give her every ounce of body heat he could spare.

They'd lain down with the pretense of trying to sleep, but Weller knew he wouldn't be able to. His mind was racing… trying to figure out exactly how they could escape. He tried to pay attention to as many details as he could when he'd been pulled from their prison cell, and he told her to do the same, but so far they hadn't come up with much more than the knowledge that Dotcom had A LOT of security guards. Weller feared there were too many, and that their escape was impossible. But he wasn't going to let Jane know that… and he wasn't giving up hope. He had to believe that the team would find them… that they'd be okay.

Jane burrowed into him further then, and he reflexively tightened his grip around her. He'd imagined holding her in his arms more times than he could count, but his musings had never included this scenario. Still, he relished this moment, knowing that she was alive and relatively well. He promised himself that he'd do everything in his power to keep her that way.

He listened as her breathing slowly evened out, and was glad that she was able to get some sleep. He'd been able to handle the beatings they'd given him so far, but the thought of them doing the same to her, it was driving him crazy. He held on tight to her now, dreading the moment when that door would swing open again.

Present Time

Jane struggled as the two men dragged her down the hall. It was almost becoming mundane… this back and forth between the beatings and the blackness. She did the same as she'd done the past three days… took in her surroundings, noticed all the small details.

The clock in the hall told her it was 4:35 p.m. She took note of the guards – memorized their faces – in hopes that it'd help her figure out their schedule. They reached the end of the hall and she was surprised when they didn't go left. Up until this point, they'd always gone left. But this time they took a right.

At the end of the hall they took another right, and then a quick left. In front of them stood double doors made of mahogany. Jane's heart sped up, instantly terrified of what would be behind them.

Crazy eyes knocked twice, and a muffled 'come in' had him reaching for the handle.

The door opened, and Jane's heart jumped to her throat.

42 Hours Earlier

Jane did what she could to help diminish Weller's pain, but the truth was he was in a world of hurt. Weller had been back in their cell for about an hour and he'd finally gotten his breathing under control.

Frustrated that Weller was giving them nothing, Dotcom's guys had pulled out a tire iron and repeatedly smashed him across the stomach with it. He must have passed out from the pain at some point, because when he woke up, he was back in the cell, and his head was cradled in Jane's lap.

His breathing was labored and his ribs were on fire. Jane surmised that he must have broken at least a few of them. She'd ripped off her dress at the knee then, and, with a little help from him, had wrapped the material around his midsection. Jane had warned him that wrapping his ribs could cause his lung to collapse, but he didn't care. He'd do anything to ease the pain – even a little bit.

Wrapped tightly, Jane laid him back down – his head rested against her thigh. She had one hand draped across his chest, and the other was absently stroking his head. Peering up at her, he could barely see her face in the darkness, but he knew she was lost deep in thought.

"Jane," he said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," she responded, looking down at him, her hand never leaving his head.

"You know when you were talking earlier, about being engaged?"

"Yeah," she responded, clearly confused by his inquiry.

"What did you remember?" he asked.

Had there been any light in the room he would have seen the instant blush cross her face, but the darkness saved her. Unconsciously she started spinning the ring on her finger as she thought about how to tell him. With no way to really talk around it, she decided just to tell him the truth.

"One of my first memories was actually a dream," she started. "It was the first dream I'd had after the memory wipe. It was a sex dream."

"You don't waste any time, do you," he joked.

She wished she could see the smile on his face, but she settled for knowing it was there.

"Very funny," she responded, smiling for the first time in days.

"Anyway, I couldn't see his face, didn't know who he was. All I saw was a tattoo of a tree on his arm."

"And that led you to believe you'd been engaged?" Weller asked.

"No, not at first," Jane replied. "When I talked to Dr. Borden about it, he said that it could have been a memory, but that dreams weren't literal, they were impressionistic, so it was equally possible that it was just a dream. It wasn't until we were in the elevator, that you were putting the ring on my finger, that I got another flash, and it made me realize that it really was a memory."

"What did you see?" Weller asked.

"I went back to the same memory, but this time, I could see an engagement ring on my finger. Then it flashed to later, I don't know how much, but I was lying in bed, holding the ring in my hand. I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I remember feeling… unsure."

"And that's it?"

"Yeah," she replied. "It really was just a fragment. It just makes me wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Weller asked as she trailed off.

"Wonder what happened," Jane replied. "Did we call it off? Did we get married? Is he out there wondering where I am? I'm guessing no to the wondering because he probably would have come forward when my photo was released to the media… but if he really does exist, then where is this guy?"

Silence fell over them as they both pondered her questions. Jane rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. It was nice to be able to take her mind off their current situation for a while, but reality quickly sank back in. Weller could barely move at the moment. The longer they were held here, the more hopeless she became. She had no idea how they'd get out of there on their own.

"Do you think we'll get out of here?" She asked then, unable to keep her fears to herself any longer.

"We have to," he replied.

Present Time

Jane was pushed forward into the room. She was currently in a seating area that held a couple of couches and a chair. Beyond that was a four-poster king size bed.

She swallowed hard as her eyes came to rest on Dotcom, who was leaning casually against one of the bedposts.

"You just get more and more intriguing, don't you?"

She said nothing, but the confusion in her eyes must have betrayed her steely exterior.

"The tattoos," Dotcom said, pointing at her. "My guys told me about them, but I just had to see for myself."

She looked down at her hands then, and could see the patterns emerging that had been hidden below. She didn't need to look down at her legs to know that her ink was probably showing through there too.

"You went really far to pull off this undercover thing, didn't you," Dotcom prodded. "What I don't get is why?"

Still staying silent, Jane's eyes found his again.

He laughed, and started walking slowly towards her.

"So I had a little talk with Angry, which, as you probably saw, didn't go so well. He really isn't a very agreeable man is he?" Dotcom asked as he stopped just inches from her.

She refused to meet his eyes then, choosing to focus on the wall behind him instead.

"My guys have been having a lot of fun with you two the past few days, and I was starting to feel a little left out," Dotcom murmured as his fingers trailed slowly down her arm. "I wanted to include Stubbles in the fun, but he refused."

She squeezed her hands at her sides, willing herself to remain calm. She knew she could get a jump on Dotcom, but the two guys standing at the door… she feared she didn't have the strength to overpower them as well.

"But you know what? Now that I think about it… now that I have you here… I'm not going to let him miss this," Dotcom said as he slowly circled her while his hand trailed across her arms and back.

"Let's get Kurt in here, shall we?" Dotcom said to his men with a sinister smile on his face.

The fear rooted deeply in Jane's stomach twisted violently. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to be sick.

18 Hours Earlier

"Backs against the wall!"

Complying, Jane helped Weller to a seated position, which caused him to start coughing.

"Concentrate on breathing," she whispered as she rubbed his back. "In and out, in and out."

The door opened as Weller continued to cough. Two bottles of water and a few pieces of bread were tossed in. Once the door was shut and locked, Jane got up to grab the meager provisions.

Weller tried to lie back down but she forced him to stay seated.

"It's easier to eat if you're sitting," she reasoned, uncapping one of the bottles.

She lifted it to his mouth, and supported his head as he took a few greedy sips.

"Slow down," she chided as he started to cough again. He got a few more sips down before he shook his head, telling her it was enough.

She broke the bread into smaller pieces then and handed them to him one by one. She knew she should eat some as well, but his fever had her very worried… he needed all the food he could get.

When he finished the last piece of bread, she helped him to lie back down. She felt around for the scrap of her dress – the makeshift compress she'd made the day before. She poured a little bit of water on it, and brought it to his forehead. Her fingers cupped his face as the cool liquid cooled his skin. She was glad he couldn't see the tears in her eyes, couldn't see the helplessness and hopelessness that she knew was there.

For all their ideas, all their talk about how to escape, she inherently knew that it wasn't a possibility anymore. Now… it was just about keeping him alive.

Present Time

Dotcom moved into the seating area to a small side table bar, and made himself a drink while they waited for Weller.

"I'd offer you one but you'd probably just break the glass and stab me in the eye," he joked as he sipped from his drink.

Jane glanced around the room then, looking for any escape, looking for anything she could use to defend herself. She made mental note of several possibilities, but the heavily armed men standing not 10 feet away kept her in place. One wrong move and she knew she was as good as dead. If Weller had any chance of making it out alive, she needed to keep her head.

Suddenly, the door swung open and two large men dragged Weller through the door. Jane gasped audibly, seeing him in the light for the first time in days. His skin was a ghostly shade of white. He was sweating profusely. Bruises littered his skin, and the ugly gash over his eye was swollen and still dripping blood. He squeezed his side, gasping for air, as they threw him onto the couch.

"Now it's a party!" Dotcom exclaimed as he downed the rest of his drink.

Jane ignored him, concentrating on Weller, willing his eyes to meet her own. She needed to see him… to know if he was okay.

Finally, after what felt like forever, his head lifted and his eyes found hers. She watched as his widened, and imagined how she must look right now. The beatings had taken a toll on both of them.

"I have to say I'm kind of excited," Dotcom said then. "Since I first laid eyes on the two of you I knew that we could have some fun together."

Jane's eyes stayed on Weller, hoping, praying that she'd find a way out of this.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Dotcom exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Crazy eyes pulled the door shut, leaving Weller and Jane in the room with Dotcom and four security guards.

Dotcom circled around Jane, and she jumped when his hand came to rest on her back. The slow pull of the zipper echoed in the silence. Jane's heart started beating wildly.

Weller instantly lurched forward, but four strong hands pulled him back to the couch. A pistol pressed to the back of his head kept him in place.

Jane started to panic in earnest.

With the zipper fully undone, Dotcom pulled the dress from Jane's shoulders and off her arms, then let it drop to the floor.

The black lace bra and matching panties she wore were simple, but effective. She'd stolen a glance at herself in them before she'd donned the elegant dress, and for the first time, she'd felt sexy. She'd realized then that maybe Zapata was right… maybe she did need to update her wardrobe.

But now, as goose bumps covered her flesh, she felt utterly exposed.

She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until Weller's voice broke through the silence.

"Jane, look at me," he whispered.

Her eyes opened and locked onto his. She could see the fear there, but the strength too. Even now, he wasn't giving up.

"It's going to be okay," he said firmly.

She nodded, but couldn't help the tears that trickled down her cheeks… silent surrenders that betrayed her will to fight.

"Isn't that cute," Dotcom said as he absently fiddled with one of Jane's bra straps.

She shuddered at the touch, but kept her eyes firmly on Weller's.

"Do you think he'll still want you after he watches what you're about to do?" Dotcom whispered in her ear before violently pushing her to her knees.

A small sob escaped her lips, but still, her eyes stayed with Weller's.

"Guess we'll find out, won't we?" he said as he grabbed for his belt buckle.

Suddenly, the muffled 'pop pop pop' of gunfire filtered through the heavy door, catching everyone off guard. Jane seized the opportunity and lunged for Dotcom's empty glass. She shattered it against the coffee table it was resting on, and grabbed the biggest shard she could find. She turned and planted a hard kick to Dotcom's hip. Off balance, he fell to the ground. She hoisted him up with an arm around his neck and held the shard to his jugular.

"You move and I kill him," she shouted.

Dotcom's men didn't know what to do. The shots were quickly getting closer. Their focus kept moving from Jane, to the sounds coming from behind the closed door.

"Kill them!" Dotcom shouted, but before anyone could react, the door burst open and the room flooded with FBI agents.

"Put you're weapons down, now!" one of the agents shouted.

Reluctantly, the men dropped their weapons.

Jane stood there in disbelief, the glass shard still tight against Dotcom's neck. She was dreaming, she must have been dreaming… it was the only explanation for what was happening around her.

"Jane… JANE!" the familiar voice broke through and Jane's line of sight suddenly focused on Reade.

"Hey," he said as his hand came to rest on the arm holding the glass to Dotcom's neck. "It's over. You can let him go."

Jane loosened her grip and two agents escorted Dotcom away.

Her hands fell to her sides and she fell to her knees. She dropped the shard of glass and covered her face… the onslaught of tears instantly overwhelming her.

3 Days Later

Jane walked slowly through the hospital corridors, doing her best to ignore the funny looks she was getting. As a woman covered head to toe in tattoos, she'd become used to the awkward glances, but when you add a black eye and a plethora of visible cuts and bruises to that, well… she basically felt like a circus animal.

She rounded the corner and came upon room 823. She knocked lightly and pushed the door open.

She found him sleeping soundly and was grateful for that. He needed all the rest he could get… he needed to heal.

A mercy flight had taken the two of them directly from Dotcom's house to the hospital, after which Weller had been taken to surgery. His broken ribs had caused some internal bleeding, which had led to an infection. The doctors had been able to repair the damage, and he was now out of the woods, but he still had weeks of recovery in front of him.

Jane quietly sat down next to his bed, and lifted his hand into hers. She noted that the cut over his eye looked less swollen, and his cheeks were getting their color back.

Her eyes came back to their joined hands then, and she noticed that he was still wearing the wedding ring.

The FBI had asked for hers back once she'd been released from the hospital. She'd handed it over, albeit reluctantly. It had been one of the tethers she'd held onto while they were held captive. She'd concentrated on it whenever they'd been separated. Her fingers traced lightly over the band that still circled his finger and she wished that she still had hers on.

"Hey," his voice suddenly broke through her reverie.

"Hi," she replied smiling, as her hand squeezed his. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by a semi," he said with a laugh.

She shook her head, tightening her grip on his hand.

"How about you?" he asked, sobering.

"Okay," she replied shrugging, her gaze returning back to her grip on his hand. "Reade and Zapata were able to recover the entire WitSec list, as well as information on all of Dotcom's other illegal activity. Patterson has been sifting through everything. The FBI has already made dozens of arrests."

"Jane,"

The way he said her name made her heart skip a beat… like the tone he used was reserved just for her. Her eyes returned to his.

"How are YOU doing," he asked then.

She couldn't help it when her head dropped and tears stung her eyes. She'd put on her brave face for the FBI, had walked them through the facts, everything she could remember about their capture, but it had all been from a distance… she hadn't let herself really think about how she'd felt during the ordeal. She tried to talk with Dr. Borden, but no words would come. All she could think about was Weller's eyes on hers as Dotcom had stripped her of her dignity. Luckily, Borden didn't push her. They were going to try again tomorrow.

"C'mere," Weller whispered, and her eyes shot back to his. He tugged on her hand, forcing her to stand up.

He tried to move over to the far side of his bed, but the hiss that escaped his lips revealed the amount of pain he was in.

"Kurt, it's okay, really, I'm fine," she said hurriedly, afraid he was going to injure himself further.

"Just get over here," he said firmly, as he finally settled on the edge of the bed.

Her hand never leaving his, she gingerly climbed up onto the bed. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he pulled her hand to lie across his chest. His arm wrapped around her and pulled her tight to him.

Settled into the now familiar feel of his arms, the tears she'd been holding back suddenly broke free. She buried her face in his chest as the sobs overtook her.

"It's okay, Jane," he whispered into her hairline as his hand rubbed slowly over her back. "We're going to be okay."