She aimlessly rode the subway, staying on stop to stop with a blank stare at the window. Like so many other subway passengers, she had no idea what was happening on the other side of the window, nor was she conscious of passengers that rotated opposite her or her occasional reflection. When her reverie broke and she exited the subway car, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket as she reached above ground.

A handful of texts. Four missed calls. Shit. "Jane, where are you?" Kurt asked, jumping in as soon as she connected.

She turned in her surroundings, picking up the signs. "Washington Heights," she relayed.

He paused, puzzled. "Why?"

I'm losing my mind? "I zoned out on the subway," she admitted.

He had been concerned for her wellbeing all day, checking on her any chance he could get. His stomach had lurched when he found the apartment empty at the end of the day, and between the delay in reaching her and reveal of a location they didn't frequent, his concern was only rising. "Are you okay?"

There were a lot of things she was that she didn't want to discuss over the phone. After leaving the prison, she had wandered several blocks leaking tears, then gotten onto the subway when folks' stares boring into her threatened to break her. The movement had deadened her a bit, letting her escape from reality. She hadn't meant to go so far astray. "I'm safe. I'll come home."

Thank goodness. "I'll meet you at the station."

Kurt pulled her into a hug when she emerged from the station entrance and tears sprung to her eyes again. "Home," she stated, and he wordlessly guided her there, his arm staying close around her back. Perhaps if he held her tight enough, she wouldn't keep slipping.

Inside the door, she wilted, her shoes and coat pooling onto the floor. She was about to join them when Kurt led her to the couch and drew her back against his chest. At her shiver, he laid the blanket from the back of the couch across them both, trying to keep her comfortable. She clutched his hand, breathing slowly in an attempt to settle herself.

He broached the topic she was hesitant to talk about, needing to know where things stood since the afternoon. "How did it go with Borden?"

She sighed, knowing talking was important, yet still not looking forward to rehashing the day. "He was...helpful."

He brushed the back of her hand. "How?"

She focused on an invisible point on the wall, making it easier to describe her experiences. "He helped me talk about me as one person. And after I left, I realized something. Something that might help."

He kissed the top of her head in encouragement. "What's that?"

She paused, knowing from previous discussions he wouldn't like her answer. "Reporting my crimes."

Given Weitz's antics, he hadn't come up with a way that path ended well. Despite his dislike of that option, he needed to understand her perspective. "What would that help?"

She moved their hands to rest on his thigh, rubbing it lightly. "I might be able to breathe again."

He squeezed her upper arm with his free hand and shared what devoured his mind in nightmares. "I'm worried about asylum."

She nodded. "I'm scared. It's hard to leave the house."

He ran his fingers through her hair in support. "But you did."

She bounced an idea, not knowing if it was good, yet needing to try something. "I want to talk to Reade tomorrow. Maybe we can see if there are any options that don't end in me in jail or destroying myself."

That was acceptable middle ground. At least she wasn't insisting on being the martyr. "Okay."

They returned to silence, Kurt running his hand up and down Jane's arm, soothing both of them. This stretched on for several minutes before Jane placed her hand over his to halt it. "What is it?"

He felt silly asking, yet she had caught him stewing. "Can you try to let me know or leave a note next time? Things have been tough lately - I was really worried."

She squeezed his hand, remembering how out of sorts she felt after leaving the prison. "Yeah. I'm sorry - I wasn't in the best state after I left Borden."

He nodded in understanding. "How about now? You seem better than earlier."

She was. It would just take a lot more talking and a lot more time. "Exhausted."

Perhaps he could get her to relax a bit. His presence was all he could offer in support. "How about the bath you passed out before you could have last night?" he asked, teasing.

His nudge brought a smile to her face. "Sure."

Kurt and Jane quietly entered the NYO the next day, ducking straight for Reade's office. Jane wasn't ready to be at work, and they wanted to avoid any chance of anyone approaching them. Jane shared that disclosing past incidents may help with her recovery, and Kurt impressed on him the importance of getting immunity. After ensuring she would be okay alone in the office for a few minutes, Reade and Kurt went to the lab to see if Patterson could help them with surveillance video of Remi's exploits. They needed to know what they were working with from a rebuttal perspective to appropriately consider all of their options.

Jane faced away from the door, her hand against her head and her eyes closed. Perhaps she could gain a few moments of respite while she waited. When the door popped open and shut, she returned to attention and found Weitz standing across from her instead of Reade.

Weitz stood with an air of entitlement in a position of power behind the desk. "I know what you did," he taunted, a smug smile on his face.

Jane was still trying to catch up to why she was seeing Weitz instead of Reade. "Excuse me?"

His voice was singsongy, taking delight in toying with her. "All I have for you is a fast pass to a black site."

Jane jerked out of her chair and scrambled backward toward the door. As much as she was interested in reporting her crimes, she wasn't keen on enduring torture again. In leaving Kurt.

Weitz spoke with his hands, holding open one, then the other. "You thought you'd break your mother out of a black site and not end up in one yourself?"

Jane steeled herself and spat, "You can't do that."

He shook his finger at her, making a soft tsk tsk sound. "See, that's where you're wrong. Like mother, like son, like daughter," Weitz played, walking toward her, "seems you'll be next to die for what you've done."

"Get away from me," Jane leveled, backing toward the door.

Weitz kept advancing toward her. "That's not how this is supposed to go. You're supposed to fight back, tell me your husband has information on me, negotiate some sort of deal, play into my hand…"

"Get away from me!" she yelled, forcing through the door into the hallway and shouting again, "Get away!"

Kurt and Reade returned from the lab to hear Jane's harried yell from across the bullpen. Kurt hurried in its direction and found her striding through the floor's expanse, her posture flighty.

Her stubbornness held her body together. She glanced frantically around the NYO, looking for the clearest path to an escape. Kurt caught her eyes as she turned the corner. He wanted to ask "what is it?", yet her demeanor told him she was panicking. "Walk with me," he guided her at her elbow and directed her to the elevator and out of the building.

Her legs shot at a brisk pace at the sidewalk, darting for distance from the building, and Kurt kept up step for step. She stopped when they reached the park, dropping to her knees and retching into the bushes. When she rocked back on her heels, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She turned into his chest and held on for dear life. Her eyes were wide, darting and checking for threats, and her hands gripped his t-shirt in tight bunches. He too looked for anything menacing, trying to figure out what had scared her, yet not seeing any danger. "We're not safe," she urged.

She was so frantic, he couldn't meet her eyes, so he used his voice. "What is it?"

"We need to go home."

He used one of his hands to call Reade, asking him to bring a car around for them and hearing it was going to be Patterson to meet them because he was dealing with the other half of the situation. The catalyst of which he still didn't understand. "Jane, what happened?" he tried to snap her out of it.

"Home," she stressed, her eyes still bouncing around them.

He couldn't get her to calm the slightest bit until he had her buckled into the car, headed for the apartment. Her fear collapsed into tears, she curling into the door for the short journey, again pacified by the movement.

Kurt's mind taunted him over and over: I never should have left her alone.

Inside the apartment, Jane headed for the bathroom to clean up, taking a long time hiding before reemerging and sprawling on the living room rug. Tired from her panic, she stayed quiet, mulling over her thoughts for several minutes. "I don't know what to do," she confessed, staring at the ceiling.

Kurt sat beside her in his chair, within arm's reach to dangle his fingers in her hair. "What happened?"

Jane treaded carefully and honestly - he feared losing her, and what she had to share wouldn't be taken lightly. The smallest things were adding heaping piles to her mental anguish, never mind the big ones that were burying her. This conversation wouldn't go anywhere good, yet they had agreed to share everything. "Weitz threatened me."

That bastard. Kurt's fist slammed into the arm of the chair, and Jane jumped. "I'll kill him."

Though his reaction was expected, it would take all of her energy to maintain the fortitude to face his outrage. "Kurt," she called, trying to get his attention back to her.

He knew his anger would scare her, so he rose, distancing himself and heading toward the balcony. She needed to talk, and now he was the one escaping. "I need a minute."

He paced the balcony, his stomach rolling with rage that spread through tendrils out to his fingers. Opening and closing his hands, he attempted to ease the tension, yet it only rose, boiling over in slamming his fist on the balcony railing repeatedly until he had cooled enough to return his hand to his side. The activity took the edge off, and he dropped into the chair on the balcony, looking out over the bridge while trying to calm his breathing. His wife was already terrified - he didn't need to add to her burden.

Walking back into the living room, he found Jane still laying on the floor, her hands across her stomach and her eyes closed. He lowered himself to the floor next to her, kissing her temple and taking her hand. "I know I seem fragile right now, but I'm here for you too," she reminded quietly.

He justified his brief disappearance. "I know. What Weitz did was underhanded and thinking about that makes me want to punch him for hurting you. I just don't want to make things any worse if I can help it."

That was a concept she understood quite well. All she seemed to do was make things worse. "I didn't think going in would be such a terrible idea," she shared, keeping her eyes closed.

He kicked himself for taking her into the office that morning. Was there anywhere left she was safe?

She further explained, "I can't live under the threat of a black site. I can't go back there - it'll kill me."

That's what he had threatened her with? "Jane, you're not going anywhere."

Worn out, she let more of her fears slip. "And when I can't leave this apartment at all? What am I supposed to do then? You didn't sign up for this."

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I'm not going anywhere either."

Talking through her anxieties would take months of therapy, and it felt like the fears crushing her chest might break through in days. "I…I don't think I can do this. I don't feel safe."

He rose their hands over his heart. "You're safe with me. I'll help you. We'll figure this out."

She sighed and asked the room a rhetorical question. "What are we going to do?"

Side by side, they both stared at the ceiling, slowly taking deep breaths across several minutes, settling both of them. He got her attention again by squeezing her hand. "Can we start with getting off the floor?"

Jane turned her head to him and smiled at the change in spirit. "Very funny. It's calming."

"We get all of the most comfortable furniture, and you pick the floor," he teased.

He rose to his knees and held her in a brief hug of support. "Can I make you hot chocolate before we call Reade?" she offered.

He smiled back. "Do you have to ask?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "At least that I can handle. What to do next? I have no idea."

Kurt rested his hand on her shoulder. "You take care of cocoa, I'll take care of next. And we're a tag team duo, so maybe next time I'll take care of cocoa, and you'll take care of next."

She considered his statement and went along with his attempts to lighten the mood. "I'd like to request coffee."

He chuckled. "Noted. Now help an old man get off the floor."

He kissed her forehead, and they both rose, standing together to face whatever came next.