A/N: I read somewhere that Maura and Frankie will get closer near the season finale due to an injury. This is my take on how it might happen!
Maura stared into the emptiness, in vain attempting to gather her thoughts. She knew she had very little time to compose herself, and so she slowed down her breathing rate and murmured soothing words to herself. The power had been cut, Angela was at Jane's, and, to both her pleasure and dismay, all the screaming and shooting had stopped. She had just called 911 and explained the situation in a controlled voice, but as soon as she hung up, fear settled in.
"Do not hyperventilate, Maura. Deep breaths... deep breaths." She mumbled, and then had to hold back a sob. The heaviness of the situation suddenly weighed on her shoulders, and it was unbearable. Unbearable, horrifying, nauseating... panic was rising in her chest with every breath she took.
"Frankie... Frankie, where are you?" Maura whispered, her voice rough with unshed tears. "Please, be okay."
Touching the wall, she walked around the living-room, skilfully avoiding the corners of the table, all the while calling softly for the young detective.
"Just say something, so I can hear you." She sobbed. "You're not dead, Frankie. You're not dead, so please say something so I can help you."
She paused and listened, hoping and praying for a sign, and then she heard it. "Here..."
"Frankie!" She gasped, resuming her search, now much clumsier and desperate. "I'm here, I'll help you. I'll help you... Oh, I found you."
A croaky sigh of relief came from behind the couch, immediately followed by a cough.
"Don't speak, let me take a look at you." Maura sat down beside him, and as her eyes got somewhat used to wandering in the dark, Frankie's silhouette became clearer. "Oh, you poor man. The shoulder?"
Frankie mumbled a weak confirmation. "And... the abdo..."
Maura quickly ripped off his shirt and began examining the wound.
Frankie chuckled. "So glad... old shirt."
Maura smiled back, and it could be heard in her reply. "You were incredibly lucky. The one in the shoulder went through and through, and this one is just a deep scratch." She allowed her shoulders to slump forward. "Thank God..."
Frankie narrowed his eyes to take a better look at her and saw she was crying. He grabbed her hand. "Hey... 'm okay, Doc. A bandage here, some fluids, and 'be good as new."
Maura eyed him tearfully and chuckled. "And just how do you know that?"
He shrugged and then winced. "Tommy watched Grey's Anatomy all the time. I kinda picked up on things every now and then."
"Only Tommy, right?" She teased. "Actually, Scrubs has actually been described as the most medically-accurate television show ever aired."
"Yeah, he watched that too." He laughed, coughing immediately afterwards.
Maura placed a hand gently on his chest and massaged it. "Shh... don't speak. You'll be sore for a while. I'm just going to text Jane what happened and urge her to get here. I must say it's rather odd that the police haven't come yet."
"S... Silencer." Frankie explained, releasing the grip on her hand so she could grab her phone from her pocket.
"Oh, that's true... still, someone was bound to hear me scream."
As her memories flew back to the terrifying moments they had just gone through, her fingers started trembling and she inhaled heavily. Frankie rested a hand on her leg and she calmed down enough to write at a more normal pace.
J.,
SOS! There was an intruder and Frankie shot him. I don't know where he is, but I'm pretty sure he's dead. Frankie is hurt, and the police aren't here yet. We're in the living-room. Please, come get us. I can't have Frankie dying on me.
M.
Sent. All they had to do was wait now. She glanced at him. His skin was pale, and he could go into shock if his temperature wasn't stabilized. His 'deep scratch' was a bit deeper than what she deemed safe, and the shoulder injury could easily infect. Taking out her blazer, she placed it over his upper body, tucking it near his neck despite his protests.
"Jane will be here soon, but I won't have you getting worse on my watch."
"Yes, Doc." He chuckled, amused, and closed his eyes.
"Nuh-uh. No sleeping either."
He frowned, pouting. "But I'm tired."
"You hit your head as you fell, so there's the possibility of a concussion. Didn't McHotty teach you that?"
"McSteamy, and yes, he did. But I feel fine... just a tad sleepy. Which is... fine, appropriate, even, since it's the middle of the night." His pout got more pronounced. "Please? Just a ten-minute nap."
Maura rolled her eyes. "In fact, experts state that the perfect nap must have the duration of precisely twenty-six minutes."
"Even better." He argued with a goofy grin.
"No, Frankie. Please..." She sighed and couldn't contain a sob. "Can you just focus on not dying? Please?" She begged, frustrated. "If you die..."
"I'll have died saving you, Maura." He brushed her leg and spoke calmly. "That's not a bad way to go. At all. Now breathe."
She did as instructed, but the tears she had been so adamant to keep for herself were now falling down her cheeks. "I... I don't even know why- who- why me? He had a gun... and he wanted nothing of value... he just wanted me, he wanted to kill me..." She held on to his hand and cried. "I'm scared."
"Breathe, Maura."
"And... and you could have died... just..." She sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Grabbing his arm for added comfort, she added. "Thank you, Frankie."
"I'm just glad you're okay. I'm really, really glad for that." He brushed his fingers along her hand. "That, and Jane would have killed me if I'd let some nobody..." He couldn't finish the thought.
Maura nodded absent-mindedly, sobbing. "Your voice's tougher than usual." She noted.
He shrugged. "I'm angrier than usual."
"I don't think he was a nobody." She confessed in a whisper.
"Me neither." He agreed. "But let Jane worry about it when she gets here."
She nodded, and allowed for a comfortable silence to settle. She would eye him from time to time to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep. After a while, Maura cleared her throat.
"I'm glad you were here, Frankie."
He squeezed her hand in response, and she rested her back against the back of the sofa, trying not to drift off to sleep until Jane got to them.