Author Note: Hi folks! I know a lot of you were pretty upset with Hunter Island but I have this idea for Jane's kick ass revenge for what happened in the first one. Go on... give it a go, you might be surprised. Thanks for jumping in with this one, I'm hoping you'll all enjoy it and be sated.

Also, be warned, rape trigger in the chapter... even I didn't see that one coming.

It seemed fitting really, to be back in the warehouse where she'd shot Patrick Doyle all those years ago. The building had never be restored and had stood, derelict since the event, the story and fire too great to recover from.

Bullets had flown freely, ripping holes in flesh and emotion, through Dean and Doyle and her relationship with Maura. They had eventually recovered, become even stronger than they had ever been.

A heavy footstep crunched over the rubble and Jane closed her eyes and sighed. Doyle had promised that it wouldn't be easy; she wouldn't be welcomed warmly.

"Tell me Pig..." the voice was loaded with venom and raspy from too many cigarettes. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you?"

The clatter of metal over the concrete surprised her and for the first time, she turned towards her companion. In doing so, she saw the glock lying on he floor a few feet away. To say the man that filled the space before her was intimidating would be the true definition of an understatement. He was huge. Standing at almost seven feet tall, he was easily four feet wide with a neck thicker than Jane's thigh. She swallowed involuntarily and met his gaze with her own cold one.

"Pig think she's ready for us." he paced around the derelict space, a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth and dropping ash in his wake as he moved. He laughed coldly. "You wanna come play in the big league?" He breathed his question into her face on a wind of stale smoke and decayed teeth. Jane fought to recoil from the stench of his breath and locked eyes with him, refusing to let him intimidate her. She knew what these people were capable of and had seen the violence and damage they could do to each other and to women. He turned suddenly and laughed into the shadows. Jane knew they were not alone despite having not seen anyone else, she knew there'd be at least three other men loitering in the shadows.

The glint off metal was the last thing Jane Rizzoli saw as metal knuckles whistled through the air and crunched into the side of her head.

"Jane?" The brunette struggled to open her eyes for the pounding in her head. "Jane, I made breakfast." She knew that voice. Its sweet, melodic tone washed over her and eased the pain in her skull.

"Maura?" The sound that came out of her mouth was barely human.

"Here, take these." Cool hands brushed over her face and Jane blinked against the light that shone through the blinds. In her hand, Maura held two advil. Jane sat up and took the pills with a weak smile.

"Damn." she sighed. "I'm never drinking again."

The previous night had been intense. Jane had celebrated her 40th birthday with the boys from BPD. The plan had been a few beers in the Robber with Korsak, Frost and Maura but it had escalated into shots, a strip club, a nightclub and then, well Jane just couldn't remember.

"Thank you baby." she leant in and placed a soft kiss on the doctors warm lips.

"Maura..." Jane's voice was thick and the pounding in her head hadn't eased at all. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Aww Maura..." The voice mocked her. Her head shot up; an action she instantly regretted. She was still in the warehouse and confronted with the Hulk. "Save me, Maura." he continued. Jane growled low in her throat and snarled at him. At some point in her unconsciousness, they had set her in chair and tied her hands and feet. He crouched in front of her, a lecherous smirk dancing over his face as leered. From his pocket, he pulled a lock knife and ran the blade across the side of her face, making her shiver.

"Just to be sure." he said, flicking the blade across the buttons of her shirt, causing them to fall into her lap. He pulled open the material, exposing her plain bra. 'Athletic' Maura had called this set. The Hulk man looked at her pert breasts enclosed in now grey material and licked his lips. He stood back quickly, and leered at her, exposing nicotine stained teeth. "I bet you'd like to kill me." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. The fire that flashed in her eyes answered his question. He retrieved the 9mm from the floor and settled it in her lap before raising a fist and punching her squarely in the face. Jane felt her eyebrow explode and blood run warmly down her cheek.

"Answer me, Pig." the man snarled.

"I will kill you." Jane growled at him. Her face burnt and she could feel her eye swelling closed as the blood dried on her cheek. The man only laughed at her and sliced through the rope that held her hands. Instantly, her fingers found the gun and she cocked it, aiming the barrel at the hulking shape. In her previous life, men would often surrender when they found themselves targeted by a gun of any calibre yet this man stood there, regarding the furious brunette before throwing his head back and roaring with laughter.

"Go on Pig. I dare you!" he bellowed joyously as she continued to follow his movements with the weapon. Jane watched him carefully. Should she shoot this man? Was this her test? Her eyes darted around the room, trying to take count of how many others there might be concealed within the shadows. She counted three.

Suddenly, the Hulk turned and was in her face. "Tell me why I don't take you home and have some fun with you?" His filthy fingers ran down her chest, gripping violently at her breast.

"Fuck you!" she spat in his face, causing him to pull back once more and punch her three or four more times in the face. She heard the crack as her nose broke and pain exploded behind her eyes. He pushed the chair backwards and Jane hit the concrete floor with a dusty thump. In seconds he was on her, ripping the ropes from her feet and dragging her off the chair.

"Fuck me?" he yelled as he dropped her on the floor and wrestled to rip her jeans from her legs. "Fuck me, really?" he pulled the material so viciously it ripped at the seams, leaving dark purple bruises on Jane's legs.

"Yeah! Fuck you all the way to hell!" Jane fought him, clawing at his face and drawing blood. As he unzipped his pants, Jane twisted under him, dirt from the floor coating her face as she wriggled free from this giant man. Scuttling backwards, she spat dirt and blood towards her attacker who, rather than continue his assault, got to his feet and zipped up his pants. Her hand touched on cold steel and she wrapped her fingers around the weapon.

"You wanna fuck me?" she growled at him, rising to her feet in one fluid movement. "You really wanna go there?" she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

The Hulk screamed out as the bullet ripped flesh and muscle from his bicep, his hand instinctively reaching for the wound as he bellowed in pain. "You think you scare me?" she adjusted her aim and fixed her sights firmly on his head. He stood there dumbly for a few moments before taking a small step backwards. It was all Jane needed. 'You're my bitch now' she thought as she started slowly towards him, hunting him, her one non-bruised eye focused and steely as blood poured from her eyebrow and soaked her shirt collar. As she closed the gap between them, she grinned at him, blood dripped from her mouth. With a swift kick, she brought him to his knees, the barrel of her gun set firmly to his forehead.

"Jane." The warm voice surprised her but she didn't move, didn't release the pressure from the now sobbing man's forehead. "That's enough, Jane." She lowered the gun and looked down at the man before her, delivering one last knee to his face and breaking his nose before turning towards the sound of the voice.

Paddy Doyle stood by a large metal staircase. "Didn't think you'd shoot him." he sounded almost proud. Crossing the room, he pulled a gun from behind him and shot the Hulk in the head. "One of O'Reilly's rats." he shrugged off the shooting and wrapped a large arm around Jane's shoulder. "Come on." he guided her towards the back of the warehouse and into a waiting car. "Let's get you fixed up."

The ride was silent aside from the rain that lashed the car furiously. It reminded Jane of the day they'd buried Maura; or what little she could remember of it. It didn't take long, maybe twenty minutes. Jane stared blindly at the seat ahead of her, and gritted her teeth. She must look terrible.

Maura had crossed to her silently, her head cocked like a curious puppy as she reached forward and clicked her nose back into place causing Jane to cry out. Even through the latex gloves that the doctor had been wearing at the time, Jane could remember Maura's touch, the heat and gentility that she wouldn't have expected from the 'Queen of the Dead'. That's what they'd called her, the cops. In that instance, Jane knew she would have Maura Isles in her life forever. But there was no way she could have anticipated the life they would have had together. The laughs, the love, the completion she felt each night wrapped in the doctors arms.

"Tell him I sent you." Paddy had leant across her and opened the door. Jane blinked against the memory and the pain in her chest that sent tears to water her one good eye. Looking out at the nondescript building, she saw no signs, nothing but some bad graffiti and a plain, grey door. Stepping from the car, she slammed its door loudly behind her and rapped on the door.

"She's a bad idea." The man who had sat silently beside Paddy said softly. He had the voice of a therapist or councillor, totally contradictory to the line of work he was currently in. "She'll turn on you." He spoke only in facts, something that Paddy admired.

"She's a good kid." he replied as he watched Jane disappear into the building. "And she needs to do this."

Therapy Voice remained silent, turning his gaze out the window.

"Besides," Paddy continued, handing over a simple, white envelope. "It's your job to make sure she doesn't flip."

Therapy Voice took the envelope and opened it, the tearing paper suddenly too loud for the car. He read the instructions carefully before reaching into his pocket and flicking a lighter. Only when the paper was burning wildly did he open the door and allow the ash to fall to the floor. Satisfied that the paper was destroyed, he stepped from the vehicle and walked to the trunk, which was popped open. He took the large case from within, closed the trunk, turned up his collar and disappeared into the night.

Paddy Doyle was far too long in the tooth to believe a cop, especially Jane Rizzoli.