The woman fought her way back to consciousness. The process was slow. She was not in a hurry; the allure of oblivion was hard to leave, it was comfortable, safe; so she clung to the darkness. But she was a fighter. The thought, although abstract; felt right, true. She knew this one thing about herself without a doubt. I am a fighter. So she fought.

The first thing she became aware of was the beep. The regular, incessant, electronic beep. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. She wanted it to stop, it hurt her head. But she didn't know what it was or how to stop it. She had to wake up first. The closer she got to conciousness the more she became aware of other stimuli. Sounds, smells. There was the beep, the smell of antiseptic, it was warm. She could hear people walking, talking, laughing in the distance. Hospital. The thought was clear, certain. I'm in a hospital.

She didn't know what had happened, or how she had ended up in hospital. She didn't even know who she was, but she knew it was time to wake up. She had a strong feeling that someone was waiting for her. So she fought.


They call me Jane. At first she thought it was because that's what they call women who can't remember their own name. Jane Doe. She has vague memories of having known a few Jane Does over the years, but wasn't sure why. She was starting to think maybe it really was her name; they seem quite familiar calling her Jane.

The loud woman, constantly talking, fusing around her with such a sad look in her eyes, like she would burst into tears in a heartbeat. Angela, her mother. Then there was the young uniform cop. Tall, dark and handsome; awkward, uncomfortable being at her bedside. Frankie, her brother. She did not know them. They were strangers to her, as much as she was to herself.

Days later other visitors came. Korsak, Frost, Cavannah, colleagues from Boston Police Department; all of them strangers. They told her she was a homicide detective. A career police officer, top notch, one of the guys. She had no recollection of any of the stories they told her about 'her' exploits. But Jane listened in the hope she would remember something, anything.

Angela visited daily. Well at least Jane thought she did; days blurred one into another so she wasn't sure. It was during one of these visits when Angela had been prattling on about her brother Tommy that Jane had said something to her that caused the older woman to burst into tears. When she had recovered enough, Jane had asked what she'd said that caused her to cry. The reply was simple; 'You called me Ma' she'd replied.

The doctors had said why she couldn't remember, but she couldn't remember what they'd said, it was all just words to her. They told her she might remember in time; time would tell. So she waited.


Now Jane looked at the woman who had stopped in the doorway when she saw Jane was awake. Maura, her friend. As soon as she'd said her name days ago, Jane had known her; nothing tangible but she had a gut feeling that Maura was a very special person in her life. Jane knew she was afforded courtesy due to being the Chief Medical Examiner but she usually only visited during the day while her mother was present. This was her first solo visit and it was the middle of the night.

"Oh. I hope I didn't wake you." Maura said quietly.

Jane shook her head. Maura looked uncertain and hesitated in the doorway for a moment before taking a step inside the room.

"I wanted to see you, but I couldn't get away earlier."

"I'm glad." Jane said. "That you came to visit I mean, not that you couldn't get away..." her words trailed off in embarrassment.

Maura smiled warmly and moved further into the room. "How are you feeling?" she asked kindly.

Jane knew she could mean the question in a medical capacity but given the time of night, she guessed Maura was there as a friend.

"Pretty happy thanks to the morphine." Jane smiled, then frowned. "I still don't remember my life though."

"Your doctor has advised there is a good chance your memory will return in time. The important thing is to not try to force it."

"That's easy for him to say, he's not the one lying here with no idea who he is. Or how he got here."

Maura looked away. The doctors still hadn't allowed Jane to be told of the events that led to her being in hospital; unsure of the impact it would have on her fragile psyche.

Jane had noticed what looked like fear flash across Maura's features before she turned her head away in the pretext of finding a chair to sit in. She waited until Maura was comfortably seated then asked. "How did I get here?" knowing the blonde knew the story.

"I can't tell you."

"You mean you won't." Maura remained silent but nodded. "Was it that bad?" Jane prodded.

"Yes." Was all Maura could manage in reply.

Maura reached for Jane's hand to give and receive comfort. It was the first time they had touched since Jane woke days earlier. They stayed that way for some time, in silence; occasionally Jane would squeeze Maura's hand; she happily returned the gesture. What Maura didn't realise was that whenever Jane squeezed her hand she was remembering a traumatic event in her life.

"Maur." Jane said softly some time later.

Maura looked up at the shortened version of her name. Only Jane called her Maur. "Jane?" The unspoken question full of emotion and hope.

"I remember Jane."