A pop echoed through the streets of Boston, causing the citizens to duck to the ground in fear. The only ones not cringing from the sound were the officers and detectives of the Boston Police Force. They were all huddled around the entrance of the station, hidden behind cars with their guns still locked on a now empty spot.
Only three bodies moved. Two fell to the ground. And one ran towards them.
"Jane!" the woman running screamed at she grew closer. It was Doctor Maura Isles, the medical examiner. She fell to her knees at the bloodied ground next to the fallen two. "Jane, stay with me. Come on, Jane. Stay awake."
"Maura," one of the fallen two moaned.
"Jane. Jane," Maura said frantically, her hands flittering over Jane's body to try to fix what she could.
The bullet wound was through and through. Jane had shot through herself and into the man lying unmoving behind her. Their blood swirled together on the concrete sidewalk, one darker shade of red and one lighter shade creating a darker, murkier burgundy stain on the tan ground.
"Jane, please keep talking," Maura stilled her movements and grasped Jane bloodied hands in hers. "Don't move. Jane, talk to me," she commanded, her voice shaking slightly.
"Maur-," Jane groaned.
"Can we EMTs over here? Maura cried to the crowd of people just now reacting to the fallen two.
Jane sucked in a gulp of air. "Frankie," she choked out.
"Korsak! Go with Frankie," Maura yelled, clutching Jane's clammy hand to her chest.
"Jane, please. Hang in there, "Maura brought her hand to her lips. She sucked in a shaky breath as she rocked back and forth, clutching Jane. "Jane, Jane, Jane," she whispered slowly.
"I'm okay, Maur," Jane smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. "Feel like I've been sumo wrestling with Shrek, but I'm okay."
"Jane," Maura scolded, but couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her lips.
"Really, it doesn't hurt," she said and shifted slightly. The small movement caused her to gasp.
"EMTs now," Maura shouted. She squeezed Jane's hand one more time before letting go and allowing the EMTs take over.
"What's her name?" one of the men asked Maura.
"Jane Rizzoli. One gunshot wound might have punctured the diaphragm. She's allergic to Penicillin. Blood type O Neg. She's – She's thirty-four years old."
"Okay, we'll take care of her," he said as they began loading her into the ambulance.
"Wait, I'm coming with her."
The man hopped down out of the ambulance. "I don't know if that's the best idea. You're in shock."
"But I– I guess you're right," Maura said defeated. She gave the man a forced smile and looked down. The blood was still swimming with the concrete ground. Sand mixed with it, making it glitter in the sun. A line from The Merchant of Venice popped into her head. "All that glisters is not gold." No, it most certainly is not, she thought.
"Let her," a pained voice coughed from behind her. Maura whipped her head around and saw Frankie Rizzoli lying in a gurney. He offered a small smile before being wheeled away. Korsak was right behind him. He paused behind Maura and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Let her," he said. His voice was empty and his eyes were still wide with shock. If one didn't know this man as the panda bear he was, they would immediately step back in fear.
"Alright then. Let's go. We need to be there five minutes ago," the man said to Maura, reaching his hand out to help her up.
She took it gracefully and climbed into the vehicle, here eyes on one thing, Jane's face.