A/N: I don't know where this came from. It just sort of happened. I've never written in second person point of view or present tense before so this is totally new for me. Set after 1x10
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Not making money, etc.
Jane got shot. Jane shot herself. No matter how many different ways you word it it still comes out sounding insane. You can't even ask yourself why because all you see is Jane. All you see is blood. And your knees hit the concrete beside her. You put pressure on the wound but it's not enough. You're a doctor. You should do something about this. You've been trained. Even if you are just a pathologist you did go to medical school. You know the bleeding should stop. Korsak hands you his blazer. You don't remember asking him for it. Your hands are moving on their own accord. You're doing doctorly things without noticing. And you sit on your knees as the blood pools. You hear Jane wheezing as she breathes and you try not to think about what that means. You try not to think about airway obstructions but you're a doctor and it's the only thing you can think about.
When the EMT's get there you're telling them what to do, you've gained confidence and what Jane would call instincts kick in. You watch and help as they place pressure bandages on her wounds. In the ambulance you don't talk to Jane. You don't hold her hand. You speak to the paramedics. You say things like the patient isn't allergic to anything but she has a history of taking aspirin and you don't know when the last time she took it was. You don't pay attention to the wetness on your fingers. You don't look at her. You can't. Because you know the second you do your doctor façade will fall and you will crash and burn. And you can't do that. Not yet. You don't notice when Jane's eyes roll into the back of her head but you notice when her whole body goes limp. You see the fog against the oxygen mask on her face stop. You hear the EMT say something. You move away as they shock Jane's heart back into action. It takes them a couple tries but finally it's back but Jane is unconscious. And suddenly you wish you had held her hand. You wish you had looked at her. You wish you told her that she couldn't die, that she had to keep fighting. But you didn't and now your only friend is hanging in the balance of life and death, favoring the wrong side.
You sit in the trauma waiting room of the hospital. This is your first time. Your family has never been sick and you've never had anyone close enough to you that they'd want you there. This is your first time and you don't like it. You're covered in Jane's blood. You don't like that either. Your dress is ruined and so are your expensive shoes. But you don't care. Someone is standing in front of you talking but you don't pay attention. You don't pay attention because Jane got shot, Jane shot herself.
When Angela Rizzoli comes into the room you know instantly. You're not close to the woman but you know of the way Jane speaks of her and the few occasions you've spoken with her that the woman is her. She pulls you into a standing position. She pulls you into a bone crushing hug not caring that her daughter's blood, her eldest child's life force, is all over you. She wipes her eyes and takes you to the nearest bathroom. She's looking at you like a mother looks at a daughter. She's cleaning your hands, scrubbing your arms. Then, only then, does the severity fully land on your shoulders. There are people dead. You are the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. You should probably do something about those dead people. But no one has called you. Then you realize that you don't even have your phone. Or your purse. Or your keys. Or you identification card. You have nothing. You look at your ripped and bloodied dress. You have nothing but you have two…were they loved ones? Could you call Frankie and Jane loved ones? Were they? Before you can answer you're being pulled into another hug and then you're being ushered outside back into the waiting room.
Angela Rizzoli is holding your hand while Frank Rizzoli Sr. stares like a statue straight ahead. You don't know if it's for her benefit or yours. You don't pull away. You don't fight it. You just sit. Frost gives you his blazer. Korsak gives you a plastic bag filled with clothes. You look at your dress once and decide that yes, you'll go change. But when you rise to leave the woman holding your hand tightens her grip. So you stay.
The first doctor comes out. Angela is pulling you with her to meet the man. You stand between the two parents like you are a fourth child not Jane's best friend. It's Frankie's doctor. He says something about how you saved his life, how he should've been dead but because of you he'll be fine. And then it's not Angela that's hugging you it's Frank Senior and you want to cry because even though you've had little to no interaction with this man everything about him feels safe. You imagine a tiny version of Jane with lots of hair and big dimples running towards her daddy after making the big run during little league. You imagine what this man being proud of you would feel like. And then Angela's hugging you. They're both mumbling thank you over and over. And you are so completely overwhelmed. You're unable to tell them the only reason you were able to help Frankie was because of Jane. Because Jane was looking at you with big, terrified, brown eyes. Jane was yelling at you. She was flipping through your medical dictionaries. She gave you the strength to do what needed to be done. Because when Jane Rizzoli looks at you like that and when she believes in you, when she trusts you with the life of her baby brother, you do what needs to be done. You hear them ask about Jane. You hear the doctor say he doesn't know but he'll find out. And then there's silence again. Frankie isn't in a room yet. The three of you sit back down.
When Frankie gets a room you're finally free to go to the bathroom and change into the clothes Korsak got for you. You look into the white plastic bag. You pull out a black Boston Police Department t-shirt and a pair of sweats. There are socks and some slip on sandals in it too. You know immediately that besides the sandals and the socks the clothes were donated by the other police officers in the room. You take off your heels then your dress. You slip into the sweats first then the shirt. The items are too big. You are swimming in them. The material though is cotton which you find comforting. Cotton reminds you of Jane. You hurriedly put the socks on and, cringing just slightly, slip the sandals onto your feet. You berate yourself for a moment for thinking of fashion when your best friend is dying. You put Frost's blazer back on. You feel comfort in the jacket, in the sleeves. You don't feel so exposed. You stuff your clothing into the plastic bag. And tie a knot. You'll have to ask a nurse later where to dispose of the items.
You don't know how long you sit in the waiting room in these clothes. Time blurs together. You do know that Korsak and Frost don't leave your side. They too are waiting on a friend. Angela Rizzoli is walking out of the double doors. In a voice that's barely even she tells the room that Jane is going to be fine. Your eyes meet as she speaks. She's coming to you. She grabs you by the hand in a gentle motherly way. You think Angela must be a saint because she's knows exactly what you want, what you need, without being told. You shuffle along behind her in your new socks and sandals. She has words with the nurse. Then she's leading you into a small, small hospital room. You barely register her lips on the crown of your head. You barely hear her leave. All you see is Jane. There is a tube sticking out of her mouth, a machine is breathing for her. She looks small on the hospital bed. The thought scares you because Jane Rizzoli isn't small. Not by stature, not by presence, not by personality. But she is small lying in the hospital bed in a hospital gown completely unmoving. Your knees go weak. You stumble to a chair. And finally you cry because Jane got shot, Jane shot herself.