Part 1

"And that's it?" Dr. Borden said as Jane finally sat back.

"Yeah… I think that's more than enough, don't you?" she retired, cracking a small sad smile.

He returned the smile and nodded. "I agree, that is quite enough," he said. "What do you want to do know?" he asked.

She stared at her cuffed wrists for a moment and then looked back at him. "I want to tell him everything, the whole truth," she said confidently, "but just him. I want him to find it out from me. All of it."

Assistant Director Weller walked heavily down the corridor to where Jane Doe was being held. Had it been up to him, he would have preferred to assign someone else to this, but she was willing to reveal everything, and only to him and he knew he had to put his personal feelings aside for the sake of the case.

She was lying on the bunk when the cell door opened, her back turned to him, her face turned towards the wall. He stood just inside the cell, arms crossed, gazing straight at his feet and said, "Come on, let's go."

He knew she couldn't be asleep. It was 8am already, and if he knew Jane - well, he thought he did - she never slept in so late. But she didn't move, didn't even flinch. She made to attempt to acknowledge his presence. "Jane, get up. Let's go!" he said more sternly, shifting slightly but still making no move towards her.

But still she made no move, didn't turn, didn't even seem to hear him. "That's enough, Jane. I'm not playing games here. Get up!" he ordered.

Upstairs, in Patterson's lab, the team gathered around her computer screens watching.

"Something's not right," Patterson mumbled.

"Huh?" Zapata asked over her shoulder.

"There's something wrong with her," she said louder and started typing on her computer.

"You mean like how she's been lying to us for months?" Reade said.

"No, not that," Patterson said, "there's something wrong with her."

The screen in front of her switched from the camera from when corner to the other corner of her cell. "Look," she pointed towards Jane, curled up on the small bed, "she's too pale… she seems… I think she's unconscious."

Back in the cell, Weller's phone rang and he pulled out, reading Patterson's name, he answered. "What is it, Patterson?"

"Weller, you need to check on her… I don't think she's conscious," Patterson said nervously.

Weller shook his head, "What? No, I'm not approaching the prisoner, she could be-"

"God dammit, Kurt! She's not gonna hurt you! It's Jane!" Patterson said, growing more and more nervous as she continued to stare at the image of Jane unmoving on her screen.

Weller shoved the phone back into his pocket and took a step forward, calling Jane's name as he did. He took another, and another until he came to stand right above her. "Jane," he said, "get up." Carefully he moved his hand towards her shoulder, he meant to just rouse her, but that one small touch flipped her from her side to her back.

And revealed the huge blood stain soaking her jump suit. And the bigger stain soaking the mattress below.

"Jane! Jane!" he yelled out her name, his hand going to her wrist, her neck, checking for a pulse. He pulled the blue tooth ear piece out of his pocket and Patterson was already on the line.

"Do you-"

"We see it. We see it!" Patterson quickly said, "Is she…"

"I have a pulse. It's faint, but it's there," he assured her.

He found the source of the bleeding, and he pressed on it, putting as much pressure as he could, but she had already lost a lot of blood. His heart was racing and for a moment he forgot all his training. He could hear Patterson and Zapata and Reade talking in his ear, but he couldn't understand a word. He closed his eyes, shut them out and focused on his own breathing.

He focused on the faint pulse beneath his finger tips.

And then he heard Zapata's question.

"Did she do this to herself?"

"Of course not!" That was Patterson's voice.

Kurt opened his eyes. There was so much blood. So much blood. And she was so pale. An the pulse… Was he sure there was a pulse? Or did he just imagine it?

"Then who did it to her? It's not like there are people going in and out of that place randomly?"

"Patterson! PATTERSON!" Kurt spoke loudly, "review the footage from the last twelve hours. That's when Borden left her and she was fine. And send a doctor here right now."

"Is she…"

"Barely… I… find out who did this to her," Kurt ordered.

"Yes, sir," Patterson confirmed.

He focused back on her. One hand still pressing firmly against the wound, the other went to her cheek, her skin cold and pale. "Jane, Jane? Wake up," he pleaded, "come on, Jane, please."

Patterson pulled up the security footage from Jane's cell from the past twelve hours, and the three agents gathered around, watching it play in fast forward. the saw Jane, cuffed, pace around her cell. The watched her sit on the bed, legs crossed for a while. And then they watched as she lay down and seem to fall asleep.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"That's strange," Reade quipped.

"Did she stab herself? I mean… she was a Navy Seal, she could have done it discretely…" Zapata wondered out loud.

"With what? It's not like she has a wide selection of daggers with her…"

"Weller? Is there anything around that she could have used?" Reade asked.

"What? No… there's nothing here," Kurt replied, quickly scanning around him.

Patterson looked between the two screens, the one with the live feed and the other with the footage from the previous night.

"Wait… wait…" she said, "Weller? Are the lights in the cell flickering? Just a little bit?"

"Yeah, why?" He said.

"Look," she pointed to the other screen," yesterday afternoon there was a small power surge, and ever since then, the lights in holding have been acting funny, but not in this footage."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying… the footage we're looking at is form two nights ago, not from last night. Someone's hacked in and switched it," she said.

"Can you find the real footage from last night?"

"Yes, of course I can."

6 Hours Earlier

She had always been a light sleeper, or so she had figured. She assumed her life before was not the kind that allowed for sleeping in or sleeping heavily. And neither did her new life. So when she heard footsteps in her cell at 4am, she jumped up quickly. She sat up and turned around immediately.

And she saw him there, standing in the shadows like he had twenty five years ago. And like he did then, he smirked and brought a finger to his lips. Keep quiet, little girl.

But she wasn't that little girl anymore.

"Shepherd."

"My dear child," he said, taking a menacing step in her direction, "it is so good to see you again. I have missed you."

"What… what are you doing here?" she whispered, "you cant be here."

She was scared. Why was she so scared?

"It's so sad what happened to Oscar, isn't it?" he said, taking another step towards her, "but I understand. He let his emotions get the better of him. He forgot the mission and he paid the price."

She could feel her heart race, pound painfully in her chest. She knew she could call for the guards - where were they? How was he here? - but suddenly, her mouth was dry, her voice gone.

"But you won't let that happen, will you?" he closed the distance between them and kneeled in front of her, "No, you won't, because you know better. You were always the strongest," he said, touching her cheek.

She flinched, moving back and swatting his hand away. "Don't touch me," she hissed at him.

"Feisty," he said with a smile, "you haven't changed. You're still you," he mused, "always the toughest, the smartest… you have always been my favorite, you know that, right?"

He moved in closer and that was when she felt it. The sharp tip of a dagger against her side. She tried to grab his wrist, to move him away, but her hands were cuffed, and the grip he had on her shoulder grew tighter.

She felt the dagger move closer against her skin, and he brought his lips to her ear. "You keep your mouth shut, child. You say anything to anyone about what Oscar told you, and the next one will be through Weller. And I won't bypass any of his vital organs."

"Jane! Come on, I need you to open your eyes, just for minute," Kurt said, his voice trembling, "open your eyes for me, just for a minute."

"Patterson! Where the hell is that doctor!" he asked in frustration, staring into the camera above.

"Ten minutes out," Patterson said.

"She doesn't have ten minutes," Kurt mumbled.

"Ku… Ku… Kurt?" Her voice was hoarse, tired and her eyes could barely flicker open for moment, but Patterson's gasp in his ear confirmed that it was real and not just his imagination.

"Hey, hey, don't speak," he whispered, "you're going to be ok. Just hang in there, just a little longer."

She wanted to say so much, apologize for so much, but she couldn't didn't have the strength and so she just nodded, feeling the tears trickle down her face. She nodded and closed her eyes.

He heard footsteps approaching quickly behind him and sighed in relief, thinking the doctor had arrived. But when he turned, he saw Tasha.

"Where's the doctor?"

"Still not here, but I thought…" she lifted the medical bag she was carrying and rushed towards him.

Tasha stitched her up as Kurt sat next to her, holding her hand. But she was still out cold.

"She lost a lot of blood," Tasha stated the obvious.

"She's gonna need a transfusion," Kurt said, "finish stitching her up and we'll move her to the clinic upstairs and set it up."

"You want to perform a transfusion here?" Tasha asked, "we're not equipped for anything like that."

"I'm not risking taking her to a hospital," Kurt snapped, "they were able to get to her here, under our protection! Who knows what they'll do to her out there. You heard what that man said."

"He said there coming after you next," Tasha whispered.

"It's her we need to worry about now, ok?" Kurt said.

"So you believe that she's still a victim in this? After everything she did?" Tasha argued.

"We still don't know what she did," Kurt said, trying to remain calm, "but we do know that someone snuck in here last night and stabbed her, leaving her to die because he was afraid of what she would tell us. So, I think it's not as simple as we may have thought."

Half an hour later, she was lying on a bed in the NYO clinic with Kurt sitting on a chair next to her, and instead of their resident doctor, it was Borden there with them.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait for Dr. Quinn?" Borden asked.

"We don't have time," Kurt said as he rolled the sleeve of his shirt up.

"I haven't done this in years," Borden insisted.

"I trust you, doc," Kurt reassured him.

"Are you sure you don't want to find someone else from the office to do this? I'm sure there is someone else here with the same blood type…"

"I need to do this," Kurt whispered and Borden knew not to argue with him anymore.

"Ok, this will sting a little bit," Borden said as he prepared the needle.

"Dr. Borden?" Kurt asked after the doctor had set up the transfusion, and his blood was exiting his body in the hope to save her.

"Yes?"

"Do you think, given the circumstances, I can have a look at the notes from your session with her last night?"

One Week Later

Her eyelids felt heavy, very heavy and as she fought to open them, the light seemed just a little too bright. And it hurt. Everything. Everything hurt. There was a stabbing pain in her abdomen. Her arms felt numb. Her mouth was dry. And her head was throbbing.

But the pain. The stabbing pain. And then she remembered. Shepherd. He had come into the NYO and threatened her. He had stabbed her. She remembered the pain. She remembered the blood. So much blood.

He had threatened her. And he had threatened Kurt. Again.

And there was so much blood. There was no way she could have survived all that blood loss.

But then she remembered Kurt. He had been three too. She had seen his face. She had heard his voice.

I need you to open your eyes, just for minute, open your eyes for me.

"Jane?"

She could still hear his voice.

"Jane? Hey, Jane," she could hear it now as she tried to open her eyes.

And she could feel him, she could feel his hand squeezing hers.

"Hi," his blue eyes and smile were the first thing that welcomed her when she could finally open her eyes, "welcome back."

This couldn't be real, she thought to herself. Not when the last thing he had done was slap handcuffs on her and arrest her. Not when he had since found out about Mayfair's death and her involvement in that. Not after Taylor.

But then she remembered Borden and her full confession to him.

And that was what he told her, as he gave her food, soup and water and juice, and antibiotics, after he changed the dressing on her wound. And she had sat there silently as he spoke. Silent, shocked. Stunned.

And when she finally regained enough strength to speak, her first words were of concern to him. "They'll come after you," she said, "you should have let me-"

"Don't," he said, "don't say that."

"As long as I'm alive, you're in danger, they'll come after you," she said.

"We're safe here," he said.

"No where's safe," she argued, "they are everywhere."

"Not here," he said calmly, "we're safe here."

And that was when she realized she had no idea where they were. She looked around and didn't recognize anything from her surrounding. She studied the room they were in. It was small, cozy. Not her safe house or his apartment. Old. It was very old. And there was a wood burning chimney in one end of the room.

"Where are we?"

He smiled then and reached for her hand. "Can you get up?" he asked and she honestly had no idea if she could, but she nodded. She gripped his hand tightly, slowly rising up. Her legs were weak, everything about her was weak, and when she stood up, she could barely keep herself upright. So she leaned into him and he held her close, letting her put all her weight on him. He slowly led them to the large windows a few steps away from the bed where she had been.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," he said.

And she looked around, in every direction, all she could see was snow. For miles and miles, she saw nothing else. It was just the two of them, in the middle of nowhere.