RIZZOLI & ISLES

Random Acts of Heroism

ainsleyaisling

Title: Random Acts of Heroism

Author: ainsleyaisling

Rating: PG–13/R for blood

Pairing: Jane/Maura to a degree that is possibly up to the reader

Spoilers: For the finale; pretty much the rest of the season as well.

Summary: It’s post–finale. You could probably write the summary yourselves.

Note: I so didn’t intend to do this, but everybody else was, and I had a glass of wine, and apparently I should never have a glass of wine if all the people around me are jumping off cliffs, if you know what I mean. Also, I intended this to be a oneshot completed story, but it got long, so, it’ll be in parts. Not more than three.

PS – Thank you very much to everyone who commented on the previous one. I usually prefer to actually reply, but it was a crazy week.

Random Acts of Heroism

ainsleyaisling

Bodies bounce. When you usually only see them after they’re already dead, there isn’t much opportunity to observe this – and if there’s a body bouncing in the morgue, something has obviously gone very wrong.

But Jane bounced off the concrete when she fell – her hip, her elbow, her shoulder. Bobby’s back rebounded off the pavement and slid a few inches away from Jane with the momentum of his fall.

Maura just ran. The sound of the gunshot had broken the tense, horrified silence that had greeted her when she ran out of the building, and now there was a lot of shouting – from the SWAT team, the uniforms, Frost – the sound swelled around her, a roar out of which she knew she should be able to hear actual words, but somehow nothing was getting through.

Much later she’d realize, with a certain amount of embarrassment, that what Frost had been shouting was, “Maura, stop!”

It never occurred to her that Bobby might get back up, find the gun Jane had dropped, and shoot her. The only thing that slowed her down was the unlikely yet terrifying image that if she tripped down the stairs she might kill Jane by falling on her.

Impossibly, Jane’s shirt seemed to be unmarred. Maura’s heart jumped as Jane began to stir, just as Maura was finally getting to her.

“Jane –” she started, and then the sound got caught in her throat as Jane rolled herself over onto her back and gave Maura a good look at the blood on her front.

Three uniforms were dragging Bobby’s body a few feet away; a fourth had grabbed the gun. By the time Jane, a horrible wince of pain on her face, had started trying to sit up, Frost was kneeling at her side.

“Stop her,” Maura insisted as she knelt on Jane’s other side. Jane was holding out a hand in Maura’s vague direction, but Maura grabbed Jane’s shirt with both hands and yanked it out of the waist of her pants. A rough cry of pain was torn from Jane’s throat at the action, but Maura refused to look at her face. “Glove,” she said brusquely, making eye contact with Frost. “I need a glove! And where are the paramedics?”

“They’re coming,” Frost assured, and Maura realized she had some slight memory of people yelling, “Officer down!” into their walkie–talkies. “It’s gonna be all –”

“I need a glove,” Maura repeated emphatically. “Somebody must have one –”

“On it,” Frost said, as if he had changed his mind about arguing with her. He looked up at the cops surrounding them. “Somebody get Dr. Isles a sterile glove!”

A young cop in uniform tossed a white towel at Maura. “From my gym bag, but it’s clean!” he said. Frost grabbed the towel and pressed it against the source of the blood flowing from Jane’s side.

While she was waiting, Maura dared a look at Jane’s face. It was a mistake – as soon as she saw the pinched, white look of pain, her own face crumpled. She seized the hand Jane was still sort of holding out and kissed the knuckles, then leaned over and kissed Jane’s forehead, then her cheek, and then her lips – and then again, and again, hard and fast.

“Maura,” Jane mumbled with her eyes closed, a look of confusion warring with the pain in her expression, “I shot myself.”

Maura almost laughed, and the reflex pulled a sob from somewhere between her throat and her nose. “I see that,” she said, her voice high and thick.

A box of gloves was thrust into her peripheral vision by an officer she didn’t recognize. She realized that all around them, jackets were coming off – Frost’s, Korsak’s, Cavanaugh’s, at least two guys’ Maura had never seen before – the guys were all rolling them up and piling them one by one under Jane’s head. “The paramedics?” Maura asked again as she rolled a glove onto her right hand.

“They have to come from around back,” Frost said.

“Maura – Frankie,” Jane said, then groaned and bit her lip as Maura carefully started to probe the edges of the wound.

“They took him out in the ambulance,” Maura said. “He’s on his way to the hospital, try not to worry.” To Frost she said, “Okay, you can move the towel for a moment.”

She steeled herself to ignore the strangled noises of pain Jane made as she probed the wound with her gloved fingers. She was so afraid, her heart pounding so hard, that at first she didn’t believe what she was seeing and feeling. “Oh God,” she whispered.

“What?” Frost asked urgently.

“Oh God,” Maura continued to murmur, her eyes cast toward the sky. “Oh God. Oh thank God.” She pressed the towel against Jane’s wound again and stripped off the glove, tossing it carelessly aside. “Jane,” she said, her hand reaching to cradle the side of Jane’s face as soon as she was sure that Frost had taken over putting pressure on the wound. “It’s a graze. It’s a deep graze. You’re going to be fine.”

“What?” Korsak asked. His eyes were wide and the expression on his face desperate.

“The bullet traveled along her side,” Maura explained, her hand still held against Jane’s face. “There’s no entrance or exit wound – though it was close. A couple of millimeters to the left and it would have passed through completely. She’ll probably still need minor surgery to close it up and with how lean she is I’m sure there’s muscle damage – but it didn’t hit anything important.”

“So it’s like …” Korsak thought for a moment and his face screwed up. “God, that must look like somebody carved a ditch in her – aw, jeez.”

Frost had just moved aside the towel to let the older detective have a look. Maura gently ran her finger over the stippling on Jane’s side. Gunpowder burns.

“Jesus, Rizzoli,” Frost said. “Cut it a little closer next time.”

“So I didn’t shoot myself?” Jane groaned.

“Oh no, we’re gonna give you credit for that one,” Frost replied. “You got him, by the way.”

“Damn right,” Jane managed to say, and then the paramedics were nudging Maura aside.

Maura rocked back over her heels and sat down hard on the step, watching as one paramedic fitted an oxygen mask over Jane’s mouth and nose, and another replaced the bloodied towel with sterile gauze which he taped in place. Frost and Korsak were helping in the way that people do when no help is needed – placing a hand under the stretcher as it was lifted, making minuscule adjustments to Jane’s mask – until she was carried away.

“Doc, you gonna ride along?” Frost asked.

Maura clamped a hand, which smelled of blood and latex, against her mouth and stared at her shoes.

“Maybe you should go,” Korsak was saying, “and I can bring – Maura, are you gonna be sick?”

Maura pressed her lips together hard and tried to shake her head, but that only worsened the vertigo that had suddenly rocked her.

“Ride with Rizzoli,” Korsak instructed Frost. His voice had started to fade into another one of those background roars, but he put both hands under Maura’s armpits and dragged her up, and that she understood. She let Korsak walk her down the rest of the steps as he shouted, close to her ear, for someone to find them a ride.

* * * * *

Later, Jane would only be able to explain that she wasn’t really awake and had no idea what was going on, but she could feel the pain. Inexplicably, her throat hurt like hell in addition to the burning pain in her side. She had to swallow a few times before she was able to try to speak, and by then her brain had worked out that she should maybe also be opening her eyes.

When she did, she had a view of an IV stand, a TV turned to a Law and Order rerun, and Frost’s head. “Frost,” she rasped, her voice scratching even more harshly than usual.

He turned abruptly, knocking the TV remote onto the floor. “Hey. Welcome back, partner.”

“Isn’t that thing supposed to be tied to the bed?”

“It is.” He used the cord to pull the remote back into his lap. “How you feeling?”

“Why does my throat hurt?” She coughed and pressed a hand to the outside of her throat, even though it obviously did no good.

“Well, you had a breathing tube down there while they operated,” Frost explained. “You were in surgery probably – half an hour, no more. The surgeon came out here, he said you’re all sewed back up. How’s the rest of you feel?”

“Like crap,” Jane said, and to her horror felt her eyes prickling with helpless tears. “Can I maybe get a –”

“Nurse!” Frost was already calling as he leaped from his chair. He ducked out of the room, but she could still hear his voice. “She’s awake and she’s in pain, can she have the drugs now?”

Immediately a large woman in pink scrubs bustled into the room, dropping a clipboard on the bedside table as she passed it. “You’re hurting, Jane?” Without waiting for an answer she continued. “We don’t like to give the painkillers till you wake up. You should feel better in a moment.” The nurse’s deft hands unconnecting and reconnecting tubes to the IV reminded Jane of Maura, in the morgue …

“Frankie,” she said, rolling her head toward Frost as he sat back down. “How is he?”

“He’s still in surgery,” Frost replied. “It hasn’t been that long. They’ll come and bring us updates.”

The nurse patted Jane’s foot and left. After a few moments, as promised, Jane did start to feel the pain ebb away.

“They gave you something in the ambulance, I think, and maybe some kind of sedative,” Frost said. “Do you remember much?”

Jane squinted her eyes shut hard, thinking. “Ambulance hit a bunch of potholes.”

Frost snorted. “Yeah.”

“I remember O’Connor yelling, ’We love you Rizzoli.’” She tried to adjust her position in the bed and winced – the painkillers obviously weren’t strong enough to contend with actual movement. “I remember somebody bagged the gun –” Jane stopped, her brow furrowing. “Did Maura kiss me?”

“Oh yeah. That happened.”

Frost’s smile was entirely too smug. Jane scowled. “Yeah, well. Don’t think you’re gonna go shooting me every time you want some free girl–on–girl action.”

He grinned even wider. “Nah, now that I know I can just ask Maura nicely …”

Another piece of Jane’s brain woke up and she grabbed on to Frost’s jacket. “Where is Maura? Is she okay?”

“Maura’s fine, she’s waiting on news from Frankie’s doctor,” Frost said. “She – I think she almost puked at the scene, but she’s okay.”

“Maura?”

He shrugged. “She was upset. You guys are tight; not every day your best friend blows herself away in front of you.”

“I didn’t exactly –” Jane had tried sitting up, and the stab of pain in her side made her cry out. She flopped indelicately back onto her pillows. “Damn.”

“You want me to get her?” Frost rose from his chair again, and for the first time Jane noticed the blood smeared on his pants. “We can switch places for a while; they said it would probably be some time before they had news on Frankie anyway.”

“She should stay with him,” Jane said, but her eyes were tearing up again. Dammit. She went to rub them with the back of her left hand and found it full of IV lines and tape.

Frost patted her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get her. Hold on.”

* * * * *

Maura was shooting out of her chair the moment the automatic doors opened. The ER surgeon was pulling off the blue cap from his head as he came out, but he’d already shed anything that had blood on it. He looked sweaty but clean. “What’s happening?” Maura demanded.

“The cardio–pulmonary team is in getting started now,” the surgeon explained calmly. “We’ve gotten him stable, gotten a good hold on the internal bleeding. His vitals are pretty good. There was a fair amount of blood loss –”

“He’s A–positive,” Maura blurted. “H–his sister’s in recovery, she’s A–positive too, if –”

The surgeon held out a hand. “It’s okay, Dr. Isles. He doesn’t need to be transfused and if he did, we don’t have a problem getting A–positive.”

Maura pressed a hand to her chest, over her racing heart. “I don’t –” She swallowed and started again. “My patients don’t usually need, you know …”

The surgeon cracked a smile. “I guess not. Look, it’s going as well as can be expected. It’ll probably be another one to two hours, if you want to get some coffee or grab a little rest – I’m sure we can get you a courtesy cot somewhere –”

“I’ll wait,” Maura said. “I have to – I have to call his family.”

The surgeon nodded, a look of sympathy on his face. “Better to hear it from a family friend,” he said. “Someone should be out in a couple hours with more news.”

Maura nodded absently as he walked off; she was already unfolding her cell phone and staring at the display as if it would tell her how to do this. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her saved numbers – luckily, or unluckily, the one she wanted was near the top of the list.

“Maura, honey?” Angela Rizzoli said as soon as she answered the phone. “I saw on TV what happened at the station, are you okay? What’s wrong? You looking for Jane?”

“No,” Maura stammered. “Um. Are you – what did you see on TV?”

“Well I saw those madmen who took the place hostage,” Angela fretted. “Maybe ten dead, they said, some of them cops – I tell you, thank God Frankie and Janie went out on that call earlier …” Something seemed to occur to her, and she added, “My God, was it the same person who killed that cop this morning?”

“They – it was the same people, yes. There was a whole team of them.” Maura’s voice was growing thick again and she swallowed to try to clear it. “Did you see anything else?”

“They said the chief suspect was dead, he was a dirty cop – they said he shot a lady cop right in front of the station – well, then that crazy guy on 7 was saying she shot herself on purpose, ’cause the SWAT guys wouldn’t take a shot at the guy – that’s not right, is it?”

Maura swallowed again, but it didn’t stop her voice from cracking a little when she said, “No, that is what happened – that’s what she did …”

There was silence, and Maura knew that either her tone or her phrasing had done the job. “Oh my God,” Angela moaned on the other end. “Oh my God, Maura, no –”

“She’s okay,” Maura said, though she was crying openly now. “It looked bad but the bullet didn’t even really pass through her. It grazed her and opened up her side, but – she’s okay. She’s okay.”

“She’s not –” Her words barely seemed to have gotten through to Angela. “She didn’t, my Jane didn’t …”

“I have to tell you – there’s more,” Maura choked. With her free hand she frantically scrubbed the tears away. “I was hiding in the morgue. After the shooting – Jane and Frankie came down, looking for help. Frankie had been shot at,” she forced out.

Aside from a strangled cry on the other end, there was no answer from Angela.

“He was wearing his bulletproof vest,” Maura rushed on, “and the bullets did not penetrate it. But he had internal injuries – there was bleeding, and his lungs …” In the face of silence from Angela, Maura decided against adding details. “I did the best I could for him there,” she said, “and when the SWAT teams got in they took him to the hospital. I’m here now – he and Jane are both here – he’s in surgery and the surgeon just gave me an update, and they say he’s stable.” She waited, then asked, “Mrs. Rizzoli, are you there? Are you okay?”

There was silence, and then Angela’s husband said, “Maura? That you? All she said was – that can’t be right, is it, Jane and Frankie both got shot?”

“It is,” Maura gasped, her throat threatening to close up again. “Frankie’s in surgery – and Jane –”

“Jane’s the one they said about on TV? She shot herself in the stomach?” Frank’s voice was so tight that Maura would barely have recognized it.

“It – it was just a graze,” Maura repeated for what already felt like the fiftieth time that day. “She’s fine, she’s already out of surgery – I haven’t seen her yet, Frost is with her –” She forced her rambling to a stop and said, “You understand, don’t you? I tried to tell Mrs. Rizzoli – Frankie was hurt. Jane thought – she thought she had to end the standoff so he could get to a hospital. She did it to save her brother –”

“What hospital?” Frank asked. “We’re on our way.”

As Maura was closing the phone, she saw Frost coming toward her up the hall. “Is something wrong?” she asked immediately. “Is it Jane, is –”

“She’s okay,” Frost said. “She’s awake. She wants you. I said I’d wait for news on Frankie for a while, let you two visit.”

Maura hesitated, shifting her weight between her feet, eyes rolled toward the OR doors. “I should be here if they come back out, or – the Rizzolis are on their way …”

“Maura.” Frost’s hand closed on her arm. “Go see Jane. I’ll come get you if anything happens.”

Maura didn’t wait long enough to say anything else. She sprinted off toward the elevators at a speed that made her turn her left ankle twice along the way.

Part 2

After Frost had gone, the nurse came back and brought apple juice and graham crackers. “We want to get something on your stomach with the painkillers,” she said as she bustled about checking Jane’s IV. “But slowly.”

Jane nodded and obediently bit the corner off a graham cracker. She turned out to have been hungrier than she could possibly have thought – though after all, she hadn’t had lunch – and she had managed to eat the whole cracker and drink most of the juice by the time Maura appeared in the doorway.

Maura. She hovered for a moment, one hand clasping the doorjamb, before slowly crossing the room to Jane’s bed. “Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Jane said back, and tried once more to push herself to more of a sitting position. This time, under the effects of the painkillers, she managed it, but her stomach immediately roiled. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the pillows, breathing shallowly through her mouth, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

“Are you nauseated?” she heard Maura ask.

Jane managed a very small nod, and risked saying, “Just all of a sudden.”

“It’s the anesthesia.” She could hear Maura’s heels on the floor, apparently leaving the room, then returning a moment later and going – into the bathroom? Water ran, Maura’s heels clicked back to her side, and then a cool, wet cloth was pressed to her forehead. “Here,” Maura said softly, “Just lean back and breathe, you’re okay. Do you need a basin?”

Jane took in a long, hissing breath through her mouth and then said, “Don’t think so.”

“It should pass.” The fretfulness in Maura’s tone was clear. A moment later, Jane felt a cool, slightly damp hand slide into her right one.

“You mad at me?” she managed to ask Maura. The nausea managed to make her voice even raspier than the breathing tube had.

There was a muffled rustle, and Jane suspected that Maura had just shaken her head before remembering that Jane had her eyes closed. “No,” she whispered. “Why would you think that?”

“At the scene,” Jane hissed through her teeth. “You were …” The need to take another deep breath ended the sentence.

Maura squeezed her hand, and whispered, “No. No, I just – oh, Jane.”

Maura’s voice had gone suspiciously choked. Jane squeezed back on the hand in hers and asked, “You crying?”

“A little,” Maura admitted through the obvious filter of tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said carefully, “I’m sorry – you saw.” She cautiously opened her eyes and met Maura’s red–rimmed ones, taking in the white and pinched look of her friend’s face.

“Can I just –” Maura started to lean toward Jane on the bed, then hesitated and added, “I don’t want to hurt you – your side …”

One hand over the washcloth on her forehead to keep it in place, Jane managed to lift her head and shoulders slightly off the pillows. “Here,” she gasped, praying the nausea would stay at bay.

Maura slipped an arm under Jane’s shoulders and murmured, “Okay, lean back.” Once Jane had done so, Maura bent and leaned her head against Jane’s shoulder, her other arm draping over Jane’s chest and embracing her tightly for a moment before she reached up and took over from Jane in holding the washcloth. She dabbed it gently on various parts of Jane’s face before resettling it on her forehead.

“Thanks,” Jane said when she felt it was safe to open her mouth.

Maura gave her a soft smile, her forehead nearly touching Jane’s and the hand that was under Jane’s back curling over her shoulder. “I called your parents,” she said.

That explained the white face. Jane lifted her right hand and gently squeezed the arm that Maura still had draped over her. “Thanks,” she said again. “You in no way needed to do that.”

“I didn’t want them to get a call from some stranger,” Maura said. “I waited till there was news on Frankie.”

Jane’s hand tightened on Maura’s arm in a way that was probably painful. “There’s news?”

“A little,” Maura replied. “He’s stable. The specialists can work now on repairing the damage to his lung.”

Jane took in a deep breath and expelled it slowly through her nose before asking, “Did my parents completely freak?”

“I wouldn’t say completely. They’re on their way.”

“Thank you,” Jane said again. “And – for waiting on Frankie. And for helping him in there, I never said –”

“It’s okay,” Maura said quickly. She looked as if she might be about to cry again.

“It –” Jane paused to take another steadying breath. “You were pretty awesome.”

Maura only smiled and leaned forward the last few inches to rest her forehead against Jane’s. “I had a lot to live up to.”

Suddenly Jane’s eyes widened and she gripped Maura’s arm again. “Maura? Where the hell’s the turtle?”

“Tortoise.” Maura’s correction was beginning to feel automatic. “Frankie’s partner offered to take him home.”

“On a motorcyle?”

Maura grinned. “I had his crate in the morgue. I think he took a patrol car.” She paused. “Frankie’s partner took a patrol car. Tortoises can’t drive.”

Jane let her eyes close again, her head still resting back against Maura’s arm. “So what was the damage?” she asked. “I’m sure I had a doctor at some point, but so far his bedside manner is nonexistent.”

Maura sat up a little, breaking the contact with Jane’s forehead. “There was some superficial muscle tearing, so you won’t be doing a lot of heavy lifting for a while.”

“You’re just dying to tell me I ripped my intercoastal speculum or something, aren’t you?”

Maura’s chest shook with restrained laughter. “You have about seventy internal stitches,” she said, “maybe thirty on the outside. They’re all dissolvable.”

“Is it really gross?” Jane asked, opening her eyes.

Maura’s hand ghosted over the blanket where the injury must be. “I haven’t seen,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll give you proper wound care instructions, but it should probably remain bandaged until tomorrow at least.”

“Will you stay till my parents get here?” Jane swallowed. “Actually, will you stay the whole time my parents are here?”

* * * * *

Angela Rizzoli’s voice was not especially soft. As soon as Maura heard her in the hall, she jumped from her chair, giving Jane what she hoped was a reassuring pat, and bolted out of the room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Rizzoli,” she said quickly, trying to head them off.

“Maura!” Maura soon found herself pressed tightly in Angela’s embrace. “Tell us, please, those doctors, no one would explain anything –”

“Jane’s fine,” Maura said, struggling to separate herself from Angela enough that she could breathe. With an effort she lowered her voice, hoping Jane’s parents would follow suit. “She’s awake and she’s doing well. Just – she shouldn’t be stressed right now …”

“Stressed?” Angela asked, her voice sliding up the scale.

Maura looked her in the eye and held a finger to her lips in a way that she hoped was firm. “Please. She hasn’t been awake long. Let me tell you what I know about Frankie before you go in …”

When Maura had finished talking, Frank Rizzoli reached out and touched the inside of her elbow. “On the phone you said Jane did it to save her brother – so the ambulance could get him out.”

“Yes,” Maura said.

“You meant for us not to be mad at her.”

Maura nodded, her teeth clenched tightly together.

Frank looked at his wife, who was crying silently. “Well,” he said. “She’s never been able to pass up an opportunity for stupid heroism. We always hoped she’d manage to avoid something like this …”

Angela hitched back a final sob and looked full at Maura. “You were there? You saw it happen?”

“I saw everything,” Maura said, nodding, and feeling the tears start again in her eyes and her throat. Before she knew it Angela was holding her tight again.

“You poor thing,” Angela said. “And after you had to do all that for Frankie –”

“Angie,” her husband said softly. “Maura’s been here all day. Maybe we should let her go home and get some rest.”

“Jane asked me to stay,” Maura said instantly, as Angela released her. “And – I’d like to wait until Frankie’s out of surgery –”

Frank patted her shoulder and said, “Okay. But maybe you wanna go wash your hands or something?”

Dread flooded Maura’s stomach before she had even looked at her hands; her heart skipped a beat when she saw the dried blood around her fingernails. If Angela had seen … “Yes,” she said blankly. “Yes, I will go wash my hands – you should go see Jane.”

Frank wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Jane looked white and nervous when they all entered the room, Maura following hesitantly after the Rizzolis. Maura shook her head in disapproval as Jane started to push herself to a sitting position, but Jane didn’t seem to see.

“Janie,” Angela managed to say, before she broke down in tears again.

Jane’s eyes met Maura’s, desperate and urging, and Maura took the implicit command. She went and sat down on Jane’s left side, carefully sliding her hand, palm up, under Jane’s so that she could hold it without disturbing the IV needles.

“I’m okay, Ma,” Jane said, sounding more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m just – I’m sorry I couldn’t –” Her voice cracked, and Maura looked at her in alarm.

“Jane?” Maura said.

Jane shook her head, still looking at her parents. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him –”

Maura’s jaw clenched and she interrupted before Jane could go any further. “She wasn’t anywhere near him when he was shot. He took the hit before she could even have known there were shooters in the building, and then she did the best she could after she found him –”

“Janie, nobody blames you,” her father said, resting his hand on her blanketed ankle. “You did everything you could – you and Maura, I know you did.”

“I – didn’t do anything,” Jane said. “It was all Maura.”

“I needed you there,” Maura argued, pulling Jane’s eyes back to her with sheer force of will. “If you hadn’t been yelling at me – you kept me from panicking, I wouldn’t have been able to –”

“Would you two like the room?”

Maura and Jane both turned to look at Frank, who was lifting an eyebrow in their direction.

“Sorry,” Maura whispered.

“Oh hey, your family’s here.”

They all turned to see the nurse in the doorway carrying an IV bag. “One more round of saline,” she said as she headed for Jane’s IV stand, “and we’ve got another dose of antibiotics, and once this goes in you should be ready for discharge.”

“Discharge?” Angela repeated.

“You feeling nauseous?” the nurse asked.

“No,” Jane said, her eyes following the nurse’s movements.

“She was earlier,” Maura put in, in case that was important.

“But, I’m okay now.” The pressure of Jane’s hand in Maura’s felt like a warning, which Maura chose to heed.

“So she can go home already?” Angela asked.

The nurse nodded. “Yup. Doctor’s ready to rule her an outpatient. Even c–sections go home within twenty–four hours, these days.”

“She didn’t have a baby, she got shot,” Frank said, staring at the nurse as if she were particularly stupid.

Unfazed, she only grinned back. “C–section’s a deeper cut. Jane here is doing just fine. You’ll need to call the doctor’s service tomorrow and schedule a follow–up in a week so he can check up on the wound, and you’ll probably go home with a couple weeks’ worth of antibiotics, but at least you can sleep in your own bed.”

“You’re coming home with us,” Angela said immediately as the nurse turned to leave.

“Ma, I’m not leaving till Frankie’s out of surgery,” Jane said. “They can discharge me if they want, I can wait with you guys.” As if her mother’s words had only just sunk in, she added, “And I’m going home. To my apartment.”

“Jane, you got shot, you can’t –”

“Stop saying I got shot like somebody else did it, would you?” Jane turned her head toward Maura, and from the expression on her face, it was clear that she was prepared to wheedle if necessary. “I’m sure Maura would be willing to keep me company for a while –”

“Of course,” Maura said immediately, surprise making her sit up straighter. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m sure Joe would like to play with Bass again.”

Jane rolled her eyes, but expressed her thanks with another press of Maura’s hand. “See, Ma? I have my own personal physician.”

Maura smiled at her. “That’s what I told them about Frankie, you know.”

“Told who?” Angela asked.

“His doctors,” Maura explained. “When they brought him in. Otherwise they wouldn’t have told me anything about his condition, since I’m not a relative.” She paused, feeling the smile creep over her face. “I think a couple of the ER nurses recognized me. They started laughing.”

Frank barked an abrupt laugh. “No wonder. You told them the coroner was his personal physician? That’s some morbid sense of humor, Maura.”

“It was the first thing that occurred to me!”

“You tell them you were Jane’s, too?” Angela asked.

Maura and Jane exchanged quick looks. “No,” Maura said slowly. “Jane had me on her emergency contact list.” In truth, she was Jane’s emergency contact list – had been ever since Hoyt resurfaced through his apprentices. Jane hadn’t wanted her parents to be the first call if she were ever wounded; she wanted the filter of Maura to calm them down and explain what was happening. Obviously it had been a good choice of strategy.

Maura wasn’t a hundred percent sure she would have agreed if she’d thought Jane would ever actually need her services in that capacity.

“Maura.”

Maura looked up, and her entire body went stiff at the sight of Frost in the doorway. Keeping her face impassive, she rose from her chair.

Jane’s parents had both turned by then and seen Frost. “Barry,” Angela said warmly. “Come on in.”

“I just –” Frost waved a hand. “I just need to talk to Dr. Isles for a second first, okay?”

Maura touched Frost’s waist as she passed, guiding both of them out into the hallway. “Is it bad?” she asked in a whisper.

The tension in his body broke and he shook his head. “He’s out of surgery. Won’t wake up for at least half an hour, probably more, but they think he’s gonna make it.”

Maura sagged against the wall, pressing her palm against the ugly wallpaper for support. She never had washed her hands. “How did you get them to tell you?”

“Told them you deputized me.” He grinned. “Please, Maura, nobody believes you’re his personal physician anymore. Somebody was gonna tell them eventually that your patients tend to be hopeless cases.”

“Thank God,” Maura whispered, closing her eyes. “Thank God.”

“You want to go deliver the good news?”

She opened her eyes and found she wasn’t quite ready to walk. “You tell them,” she said. “I – just give me a minute, okay?”

He shrugged. “Okay.” Before he went into Jane’s room, he reached out and squeezed Maura’s shoulder. “Good work today, Doc.”

Maura’s knees trembled, so she stood pressing her back and her hands against the wall until she felt that her legs would hold her up. Once she was more or less certain that she wouldn’t faint, she went back into the room.

Only to find that Angela, Frank, Jane, and Frost were all staring at her. “What happened?” she asked.

“What happened, she says,” Frank said.

Angela hurried across the room and wrapped Maura in a bruising embrace yet again. “You saved my baby, Maura …”

Maura caught Jane’s eye over her mother’s shoulder. Jane grinned at her, but after a moment the smile wavered. Recognizing that expression, Maura quickly extricated herself from Angela’s embrace and crossed to the bed to wrap her arms around Jane.

“Thank you,” Jane whispered rather wetly. “I know he wouldn’t even have made it to the hospital without you.”

Maura reached up and brushed the start of a trail of tears from underneath Jane’s eyes before she straightened up. She cleared her throat before asking, “So. Should we ask when you can get out of here?”

“I’m staying till he wakes up,” Jane said hastily. Her voice turned pleading as she added, “I need to see him, before I leave.”

Maura looked at the Rizzoli parents, but they seemed neutral – and still somewhat stunned by the good news about their son. Frost caught her eye and shrugged. “Okay,” she said, her hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Then why don’t I let you visit with your parents, and I’ll stop by your place and make sure you have everything you need? I can run by the station and get your stuff –”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jane said.

Maura smiled at her. “Actually I do. I gave Frankie’s partner my house keys and I need the spare you have so I can check on Bass.”

“Oh.” Jane lifted her chin. “Maura –”

“It’s okay.” They’d all had enough thanks for the day. Maura bent and kissed Jane’s forehead. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “If he beats me, say hi to Frankie for me.”

“Maura!”

At the sound of Jane’s insistent call, Maura turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

Jane grinned. “Please buy beer. I think I’m out.”

“Jane, you really shouldn’t be drinking with heavy painkillers –” Maura stopped. “You were joking.”

“Only kind of.”

Part 3

Before they went in to see Frankie, Jane rolled herself around in front of her parents, desperately wishing she didn’t need to attempt to be intimidating from a wheelchair, and laid down the law as she saw it. “Look,” she said, “Frankie has had a really, really crap day. He just had his lung reinflated, and before that, he had to lie there while Maura cut a hole in his chest with not so much as a Tylenol. His day does not need to get any worse, and if you go in there, and cry all over him, his day? Will get worse.”

Her mother looked as though she might be about to reply, but Jane thought of something else.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “No telling him this wouldn’t have happened if only he listened to you and went into Dad’s business. No telling him he’s gotta quit. No blaming anybody except the bastards who shot him. He doesn’t need that.”

“Janie,” her father said. “Go in the damn room.”

Somewhat deflated, Jane wheeled herself in a circle and promptly winced, bending sideways to favor her injured side.

Behind her, her mother sighed, and then she felt her mother take hold of the chair and push her toward the door of Frankie’s room.

“Hey, Frankie,” she said with forced chipperness as they entered.

His bed had been cranked up so that he was in a semi–sitting position and could see them entering. “Janie,” he rasped, then immediately started to cough. Angela abandoned Jane’s wheelchair and ran to his side, but he waved her away with one hand while he finished the coughing fit. “ ’m okay, Ma,” he forced out. His eyes focused on Jane with more clarity. “What happened? You okay?”

Jane blinked. “Nobody told you?”

“Told me what?” Frankie asked before he started to cough again.

“I’m getting the nurse,” his father said, an unaccustomed note of worry in his voice. He headed for the door, but Frankie waved him back again.

“t’s just my throat,” he choked out. “t’s dry. They say my lungs are fine. The hell happened to Jane?”

Jane sent a warning glare at both her parents before replying, “It’s nothing, Frankie, I just got clipped a little when Bobby got taken down. Barely needed a couple stitches, I been out of surgery and waiting on you for hours.”

“Then what’s with the …” Frankie stopped and took a slow breath, probably to keep himself from coughing again.

“Pain in the ass hospital rule,” Jane said. “Ma, can you help me get a little closer?”

Angela moved Jane’s chair right up to Frankie’s bed, then went around and took the chair on the other side. She took Frankie’s hand carefully, visibly struggling for composure.

“Aw, Ma,” Frankie said. “Don’t. I’m okay, seriously. I’m fine –” As the “fine” exploded into another coughing fit, none of the other Rizzolis seemed likely to believe him.

From his other side, Jane sized her brother up carefully. Other than the oxygen tube going into his nose, and the dark circles under his eyes, and the various monitors with tubes that snaked out from under his gown, he didn’t look as though he’d just been through major surgery. Under the gown she figured was a very different story.

“You should stop talking,” she told him softly. “Just close your eyes if you want and we’ll talk to you. Anyway if you’re anything like me you’re gonna be sick as a dog in about five minutes.”

“Great,” Frankie rasped, obeying her instructions and letting his eyes drift closed.

Their father reached past Jane and patted Frankie’s hand, the one his mother wasn’t already holding. “Frankie,” he said somewhat stiffly, “We’re all real proud of you. You were tough today. Everybody said so, even Dr. Isles.”

Though Frankie’s eyes remained closed, his throat worked with a slow, apparently pained swallow. “Is Maura okay?” he asked in a raspy whisper.

“She’s fine,” Jane said, gently squeezing his shoulder. “She was here till you got out of surgery; she’ll be back later.”

“How many?” Frankie whispered.

Jane blew out a hard breath. “Eight, not counting the shooters,” she finally admitted. “Fourteen all together. Not counting the shooters – three civilians, five cops. Plus two injured besides you who’ll probably make it.”

“Bobby?”

“Dead,” Jane said softly.

“Who got him?”

Unintentionally Jane met her mother’s eyes over Frankie’s reclined body. Angela gave a tiny nod and patted her son’s hand. “Sissy did,” she told him. “Uh – right after she got hurt.”

Jane winced and gave a little shrug, as this was technically correct.

“Way to go, Janie,” her brother whispered.

“Somebody would’ve got him,” Jane replied. “Cop kills other cops – no way he was walking away.”

Frankie nodded slowly.

“You getting sick?” Jane asked.

“Little,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand. “Try not to hurl, okay? It can’t be good for your chest.”

“ ’d you?”

“Nope.” Remembering Maura’s ministrations, she looked up at her parents. “Can somebody ask the nurse for a wet washcloth?”

“Got it,” her father said, heading for the door.

Jane leaned close to her brother’s ear. “Just concentrate on breathing, okay? Pop’s right, we’re all real proud of you.” Despite her instructions to her mother, Jane felt her throat closing up. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too, Sissy,” he whispered back. He hadn’t called her that since he was eight.

Frank, Sr. came back with a wet cloth and pressed it into Jane’s hands. As she was draping it over Frankie’s forehead, Angela asked, “Does Maura even know he’s awake?”

“Yeah, I texted her,” Jane replied.

Angela frowned. “How?”

“Frost gave me back my phone.” Jane pulled it from the pocket of the scrubs she’d been given to borrow and held it up.

“Jane’s kind of in love with Maura,” Frankie murmured from beneath the wet washcloth.

Three heads automatically turned to stare at him. Jane, her jaw hanging momentarily open, asked, “Are you sure you’re getting oxygen to your brain?”

“ ’s okay,” Frankie continued, “’cause Maura’s kind of in love with her too.”

“I cannot believe you’re talking crap about the woman who saved your life,” Jane said.

Frankie grinned very, very slowly. “Said she loved my sister, how is that talking crap?”

“Wake up from a coma and the first thing you do is tease your sister?” their father asked.

“That’s how you know he’s alive,” Jane responded without thinking. Belatedly she added, “And he wasn’t in a coma; don’t tell him that.”

Jane’s phone chose that moment to chirp. She flipped it open and clicked on the new text message. “Maura,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She’s on her way back.”

“It’s been hours,” Angela said, sounding concerned.

Jane arched an eyebrow as she continued to read. “She did my laundry.” A suspicious noise made her look up at her mother, who appeared to be suppressing laughter. “What, Ma?”

Angela, apparently ignoring her, patted her son’s leg and said, “You know, I think Maura’s gonna be my favorite daughter–in–law.”

Frankie started to laugh, but almost immediately it turned into a grimace. Caught before she could yell at any of them, Jane instead said, “Ma, Frankie’s gonna puke.”

“He can’t, his stitches,” Angela fretted.

“I’m serious – Pop, you gotta get one of those thingies.” She mimed holding an emesis basin in front of her.

“All right, all right.” Frank fled into the hall with a squeak of his rubber–soled shoes.

Jane pressed Frankie’s hand. “Just a minute, Frankie, deep breaths, okay?” She looked over at her mother and said quietly, “Ma? Maybe you better get a nurse too, you know, just in case …”

Angela’s eyes widened, and she bolted for the door. A moment later, after Frank, Sr. had managed to shove an emesis basin under his son’s chin, he, Angela, Jane, and two nurses got to watch Frankie be sick.

All things considered, it was far from the worst way the day could have ended.

* * * * *

“That Maura? Maura, come in here!”

Frankie’s voice was soft and raspy – though not, Maura noted, as raspy as his sister’s on a good day – but the room was so quiet that it carried like a shout. Maura tentatively stepped further into the room, her heels echoing as loudly as the beep of Frankie’s heart monitor.

Angela and Frank were both beaming. Jane looked – incredibly uncomfortable. Maura frowned. “Jane, are you feeling sick again?”

“I’m fine,” Jane said quickly. “Bass okay?”

“I left him at your apartment,” Maura said. “He and Joe shared a plate of mustard greens, which Joe will probably throw up later.”

“He ate?”

Maura shrugged. “Maybe he was just holding out for a dining companion.” She turned her attention toward Frankie and smiled. “Frankie, how are you feeling?”

He gave her something that was somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Well I finally stopped puking. And the pain meds are working.”

Emboldened, Maura stepped closer and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “How’s your breathing?”

He nodded. “Feels okay.” His hand came up and clasped hers. “Thanks, Maura. I know you, you know, didn’t really enjoy the experience –”

Maura smiled wider. “You’re okay. That’s what matters.”

“You definitely got a raw deal,” he rasped. “Even live people doctors don’t usually have patients awake and screaming.”

“You didn’t scream,” she said. She lifted her head and looked around at Jane and his parents. “He didn’t scream.”

“True,” Jane said.

Maura bent low, her smile becoming slightly embarrassed, and kissed Frankie on the cheek. “I’m really, really glad to see you,” she said.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Glad to see you, too,” he said at a whisper. “Can you take Janie home now? She’s getting cranky.”

Maura flashed a look at Jane, who at first looked as if she were going to retaliate, but finally sighed and sank back into her wheelchair. “I kinda am,” she said. “I think my morphine buzz is wearing off.”

“They actually gave you Dilaudid,” Maura said. “But I take your point. Have you been discharged?”

“An hour ago,” Angela said. She dug through her purse for a moment before pulling out two prescription bottles and handing them toward Maura. “Here, take these.”

Maura glanced over the labels. “Antibiotics and Vicodin,” she murmured. “Good thing I bought yogurt.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Jane said.

Maura looked to Jane’s parents. “We’ll be okay,” she said.

Frank, Sr., wrapped her in a tight hug, and Angela rose from her chair at Frankie’s side to do the same. “Thank you for taking care of her,” Angela said.

Maura nodded, beginning to feel sheepish after the long day of gratitude. She bent to brush her lips across Frankie’s cheek again, and felt his hand lift to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, Maura,” he whispered.

“Just think about getting better,” she told him awkwardly.

Once they had gotten out into the hall, Jane said, “Thank you for saving me.”

“They seemed okay,” Maura said neutrally as she pushed Jane’s chair toward the elevator bank.

“That’s because they only eat their own young.” Jane stretched a little, then gave a small gasp of pain. “God,” she said, “I cannot wait to get home.”

Maura rested a hand on Jane’s shoulder while they waited for the elevator to arrive. “Frankie seems to be in good shape. Considering.”

Jane’s hand covered Maura’s on her shoulder and she started to say, “Maura …”

Maura pressed Jane’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

After a period of silence, the elevator doors slid open. “ ’d you get beer?” Jane asked as Maura pushed her into the elevator.

“No,” Maura said. “But I did get that triple crÃ¨me French cheese you won’t admit you like. And frozen pizza.”

Jane tilted her head back to look up at Maura. “I really do appreciate this.”

“I know,” Maura said softly.

Although the walk up the stairs to her apartment was basically the first time Jane had been on her feet since she’d been shot, they managed it together. Halfway up Jane grabbed tightly to the banister, obviously reeling, and Maura carefully helped her to lower herself down onto a step. “Talk to me,” she said.

Jane shook her head. She was still white–knuckling the banister. “Just got a little weak in the knees. I’m okay.”

Maura waited for a few moments, watching Jane’s face. “Can you try to get up?”

Jane took a deep breath, then nodded.

“Okay.” Maura reached out to span Jane’s left side with her hand, the other hand gripping the banister in an effort to steady both of them. “Carefully, don’t bend.”

Jane groaned and squinted both eyes shut, but she managed to get back to her feet and resume her slow climb. “I am going to remember this the next time I think about where my damn gun is pointed,” she gritted out.

“Good,” Maura said, her hand solidly placed on the small of Jane’s back.

Joe Friday greeted them at the door by barking herself in gleeful circles. “Pet you if I could reach,” Jane told her.

“I took her out earlier,” Maura said. “But she missed you.”

“And where’s – okay, giant tortoise under my coffee table.”

“He’s probably hiding from Joe. She thinks he’s a giant ottoman.” Maura dropped her bag inside the front door and slid shut all of Jane’s locks – an action that had always been second nature and had become closer to compulsive since serial killers had started paying a little too much attention to them.

“You still got that bottle of Vicodin?”

Maura bent to retrieve her bag again, worried eyes on Jane. She had lowered herself onto the couch and looked superficially relaxed with her shoes off and her feet on the coffee table, but her eyes were still squinted and her voice sounded close to breaking. “It’s been – two hours since they disconnected your IV?” Maura asked. “To be safe, I don’t think you should have any yet.”

“People who are fond of safety don’t shoot bullets into their – or, you know, past their … selves.” Jane slouched a little lower, forcing out a long, audible breath.

“It would probably make you sick.” Maura pocketed both bottles and headed toward the kitchen. “Let me get you some tea.”

As Maura passed the couch, Jane reached out a hand. Automatically assuming she wanted the pills, Maura placed a hand over her pocket by reflex and said, “Really, Jane, you don’t want to throw up and pull your stitches –”

Jane shook her head and held out her hand again, more insistently, until Maura caught on and put her hand in Jane’s. Jane tugged her closer until she was able to turn her head to the side and lean it against Maura’s stomach.

Maura brushed a hand over Jane’s hair and asked, “Is the pain really bad?”

Jane hissed out a breath against Maura’s belly and said, “It’s getting there.”

“Have a little tea and something to eat, and you can take a pill before you go to sleep,” Maura said, lowering her hand to Jane’s shoulder. “If you sleep through most of it you shouldn’t get ill.”

Jane turned her head ever so slightly so that her nose pressed into Maura’s belly. “Okay,” she conceded.

Maura gently extricated herself and made for the kitchen, rinsing Jane’s kettle before filling it with clean water. Jane had a total of three types of tea; luckily, one of them was herbal.

“I really do know it could be a whole lot worse,” Jane called from the couch.

“Believe me, so do I,” Maura replied.

* * * * *

Jane woke – from a dream that left her feeling anxious, but which she, probably luckily, couldn’t remember – to Maura’s hand urgently squeezing her shoulder. “Jane! Jane!” Maura hissed in a way that suggested she had been doing it for a while.

“What?” Jane asked without opening her eyes. “Nobody else is here, you don’t need to be quiet.”

“I was trying not to startle you.” Maura’s hand slid from Jane’s shoulder down her bare arm, leaving a path of coolness in its wake. “You’re sweating.”

“So sometimes I sweat in my sleep,” Jane mumbled.

“That –” Maura hesitated. “A lot? That could actually be a sign of chronic hypoglycemia, or a number of neurological disorders …”

“Diagnose me tomorrow,” Jane said.

“No – but, Jane. If it’s a fever you could be developing an infection.”

“ ’s not a fever.”

“How do you know?” Maura’s hand gently put pressure in the vicinity of Jane’s abdomen. “Does this area feel tender?”

“I shot myself.”

“Okay. Right.”

Jane didn’t have to open her eyes to know what Maura’s face looked like at that moment. She sighed into her pillow. “What d’you want?”

“Come in the bathroom and let me look at it.”

Jane waited for a beat, but she knew she didn’t really have a choice. Pique made her forget the entire reason they were going through with this exercise, and she sat up quickly without remembering to favor the injured side. She instantly doubled over, which of course was worse, and ended up shooting to her feet with both hands pressed tightly to her thighs. “Ow, ow, God, ow.”

Maura was at her side more quickly than anyone should be able to move at – through her pain Jane squinted at the glowing numbers on the clock – 3:17 in the morning. “You should support yourself with your arms when you’re sitting up –”

“I know!” Jane stayed slightly bent over, breathing carefully, until she felt like moving wouldn’t make her scream. “Okay. Bathroom.”

In the yellowish light of Jane’s bathroom Maura actually looked kind of sick. Her brow wrinkled as she lifted the hem of Jane’s tank top and sat down on the closed toilet lid. “You want to do it yourself?”

Jane frowned. “You’re the doctor. You know, kind of.”

“I mean the tape.”

“Oh.” Jane stared back at Maura’s concerned eyes for a while. “No, you do it – but, slow. I’ve never been the ’just rip it off’ type.”

“Okay.” Already wincing in sympathy, Maura braced one hand on the tender skin near the wound site and started to peel back the tape that held the bandaging in place. Jane hissed but clenched her teeth and managed not to complain. Maura slid her hand to Jane’s stomach for a moment as she freed the first strip of tape, and said, “Focus on something else.”

Jane looked down at the top of Maura’s bent head and said, “I’m counting your grays.”

“You’re probably responsible for half of them,” Maura said without quite rising to the bait. “There, nearly done.”

“Can’t you see it yet?”

“Yes, but I’m going to have to put a new bandage on anyway.” Maura carefully peeled away the last strip of tape and lifted the gauze from Jane’s wound, somehow without pulling too painfully. “All right, let’s see.”

Jane chanced one look and immediately turned her head away. “Oh, man, gross. I don’t know why the stitches have to be blue.”

“Because you can still see blue when it becomes covered in blood,” Maura replied in the distracted tone that meant she was working. She was probably being as gentle as possible, but her probing and stretching around the area of the wound still made Jane’s teeth clench a little harder.

“Is it supposed to be so bruised?” The one thing Jane had noticed, besides the bright blue stitches and the black of dried blood, was that her entire side appeared to be purple and blue.

“Not necessarily, but it’s not uncommon.” Maura’s hand slid to Jane’s bare stomach again as if trying to brace her. “They have to do some violence to the surrounding skin in order to pull it into place to cover the wound.”

The pain appeared to be over – well, the part Maura was causing, anyway. Jane rested a hand on Maura’s hair and asked, “So is it infected?”

“No. And stop looking for gray.”

Jane grinned and ran her fingers through Maura’s hair, flipping a section of it over. “I don’t have to; it’s all by your right temple.”

“Pass me the tape?” Maura asked without comment.

Jane now had a small pharmacy on her bathroom sink – gauze pads, surgical tape, antibacterial ointment, prescription bottles … She handed Maura the roll of tape and a pair of scissors.

“We’ll talk about your blood sugar in the morning,” Maura said as she smoothed a strip of tape along the bottom of the clean gauze pad she had pressed against Jane’s side.

“Can’t wait.”

Maura worked in silence for another few moments, cutting tape and pressing it gently into place. She smoothed one hand over Jane’s stomach and another across her back before standing up and letting Jane pull her shirt down.

They were eye–to–eye for just a bit longer than was normal. Jane fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and said, “Look, Maura – I don’t want this to be, like, ’oh no, there was a traumatic event and now our relationship is forever changed’ …”

Maura’s chest hitched with a brief laugh, one side of her mouth turning up. “Well,” she said pragmatically, “it has to change a little, don’t you think?”

Jane smiled back and reached to touch Maura’s side, rubbing her fingers on the cotton of her unusually casual BCU t–shirt. “I guess,” she said. “But not like – you know.”

“Like one of us almost died – again?” Maura raised her eyebrows and reached to set the roll of tape on the sink behind Jane before putting her hands on Jane’s shoulders. “Jane. You know I never had a best friend before –”

“I know.” Jane permitted herself a tiny eye roll.

“Right.” Maura lifted one hand very briefly to the side of Jane’s face. “It would just be great if you could not kill yourself. That’s all.” Her hand dropped back to Jane’s shoulder.

Jane grinned. “You gonna kiss me again?”

“Is that a request?” Maura asked with apparently honest curiosity.

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Maura smiled, then leaned in and kissed the corner of Jane’s mouth. “Come on. You can go back to sleep now.”

The sudden surge in Jane’s chest felt a lot like the one that had made her kiss Gabriel Dean a lot more deeply than he was expecting, which was why she immediately quashed it. Instead she only asked, as she followed Maura back to the bedroom, “Weren’t you sleeping?”

Maura looked back over her shoulder. “Kind of.”

“Maura.”

Maura stopped and turned fully. “You know, now that I’ve looked at it, I think it’ll be easier.”

They chased Joe off the bed and slid under the covers, Maura on Jane’s left side. Jane rolled to face her, wincing until she got her pillows to support her shoulder so that her bad side wasn’t stretched. Maura made a sympathetic face and scooted closer so that she could squeeze Jane’s arm.

Jane’s eyes were already closing again. Vicodin did that to her. “We gonna cuddle?” she asked sleepily.

“Well, if my arm slips during the night you’ll wake up screaming, so – no.” The warmth of Maura’s hand disappeared and Jane could feel her shifting back to her side of the bed. “’Night, Jane.”

Jane thought about many, many things she could say in that moment, decided that most of them should be saved for a time when she wasn’t high on narcotics, and fell asleep before she could come up with something safe enough to actually say out loud.

TBC