The Space Between

Chapter Two

The rustle of bedsheets, reminiscent of the sound of crunching leaves, awoke her, leaving her breathless as she grabbed for an imaginary gun, coming up only with Maura's cool hand. She glanced up, cringing at the crick in her neck that shot a spasm of pain down her spine, and stared into Nurse Rhonda's reproving gaze.

"You know, if you ask me, you can watch Dr. Isles sleep just fine from that nice couch over there," she said, pointing to the small loveseat that sat against the window. But nobody asks me." She rustled around Jane, replacing Maura's empty IV bag with a full one. "This should keep her out until morning," she said with a nod, just barely patting Maura's hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture.

Jane rose slowly from her chair, clutching her lower back. She remembered watching Maura twitch effortlessly into sleep, not able to let go of her hand, instead stroking it until she succumbed to her own exhaustion. "I think I'll take your advice, Rhonda," she said, wincing. "What time is it?"

"Four thirty-two," the nurse answered. "I'll be back for breakfast in a couple of hours." She watched as Jane sat gingerly on the couch. "You need some aspirin? I'll bring you some."

Jane started to decline, but changed her mind. If she was only going to get another couple of hours of sleep, she might as well make them restful ones. "Yeah," she answered. "I'd appreciate that, thank you."

"Sure," Rhonda replied, stepping back out into the hallway.

The suture above Jane's eye was throbbing, but that was probably because she'd fallen asleep on it, just as the doctor had instructed her not to do. She sighed, content with the fact that was the one major injury with which she had to deal. Things could have gone much worse back at the retreat. When she closed her eyes, she still heard the first firing pops of gunshots, heard the glass cracking, heard her own frantic shouts for Maura to get out of the car. She hadn't willingly put them in danger, but Tommy's words looped through her head like a continuous symphonic guilt. She had the urge to pace again, but was too tired and too sore. Instead she darted her eyes from one side of the room to the next, mimicking the movement, until Rhonda stepped back into the room.

"Here you go," she said, handing over two aspirin and a small cup of water. She watched as Jane swallowed them down, but didn't turn to go, instead standing with her fleshy arms crossed over her chest. "Rumor has it that you're the one that saved your girlfriend's leg over there," she said, pointing with her thumb toward the hospital bed.

"She's not my girlfriend," Jane whispered, too quickly and too defensively.

"Is she a girl?"

"Yes."

"Is she your friend?"

"Yes."

Rhonda shrugged. "Sounds like a girlfriend to me. You a doctor, too?"

"No, I'm a detective," Jane replied, unsure as to why she felt obligated to answer Nurse Rhonda's questions in the middle of the night, but the woman's presence was oddly comforting. More comforting than her dreams, at least. "But Maura told me what to do."

"She told you exactly how to cut open her leg?"

"Yeah."

"I don't even know what to call that," Rhonda said with a shake of her head. "That's some Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman shit, right there." She glanced down at the watch that cut into her wrist. "We're going to have to redress that leg in the morning. I'll show you how to do it. I'm guessing you'll be the one taking care of her?"

Jane hadn't necessarily thought that far ahead, but she nodded. Who else but her would take care of Maura? "Yeah," she said with a nod. "I'll be taking care of her."

Rhonda nodded. "I guess if you cut her open, you can help make sure she stays closed up, huh?" she said with a small chuckle. "Anyway, you know the drill. Call button if you need me. But your girlfriend here should sleep the rest of the night without any pain."

Jane started to protest again, but just gave Rhonda a small wave as the quiet click of the door signaled that she and Maura were alone once again. This time, she stretched out as much as she could on the small couch, her legs dangling over its arm, and succumbed to a deep, painless sleep.

At first it was a dull ache, penetrating into a dream of some sort, but soon it turned into a shooting throb, pulling Maura from her sleep with a hissed moan. Her surroundings blurred around her for a few seconds as she blinked away the floaters that marred her vision. Her leg throbbed, her mouth was dry, and a shooting pain radiated through her lower back. Then the memory hit her and she unconsciously shot up further in her bed, the twitch of her leg causing her to groan and drop back to her pillow. When she blinked again, however, the fog clouding her vision faded, and she breathed a small, clenched sigh of relief as she caught sight of the figure in the room with her. The morning light appeared in soft, slitted shadows across the loveseat, where Jane was draped comically across it, her legs dangling precariously over the sides. If Maura hadn't been gritting her teeth in pain, she would have laughed.

Lifting her head, she raised herself up as much as her current position would allow, glimpsing the bulky white bandage wrapped around her left leg. The pain was more than likely normal, considering her leg had been slightly crushed and cut open with nothing more than a sliver of acrylic glass, but infection was, and always had been, her biggest fear.

Her fingers found the nurse call button as she glanced at the clock against the far wall, which told her it was already mid-morning. She leaned towards the small table beside her bed, stretching towards the cup of ice chips she'd had the night before, her need for water suddenly palpable in her dry throat. Her fingers grazed the edge of it before sending it toppling, the plastic clinking angrily against the table before dropping to the floor with a loud, hollow clack.

Jane was up in a second, half falling, half leaping off the too-small couch, her eyes wide and wild with alarm. Again, under different circumstances, Maura would have enjoyed the scene. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice thick with medication. "I knocked over my glass."

Jane smiled, bending over and tossing it into the trash can. "I see that," she said. "Of all the sounds I could do without right about now, it's the sound of any flowing water." She grinned, placing a few paper towels along the spill, but her smile disappeared as she caught the furrowed lines across Maura's forehead. "How you feeling, Maur?"

"I can't complain," Maura offered through pursed lips. "Living, breathing, passively exchanging oxygen for carbon dioxide."

Jane chuckled. "Right, as long as you're oxidizing."

Maura frowned, shaking her head. "No, that would actually be a bad thing," she corrected. "Excessive nitrosative stress can lead to depleted nucleic acid bases."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, I'd say you're feeling all right," she teased, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Loopy Maura had been just as hard to understand as Competent Maura, and if she had her choice, she preferred the latter.

The door opened and Rhonda appeared, seemingly still as peppy as earlier that morning. "Whew," she said, eyeing Maura's IV bag. "Someone is out of fentanyl. What are you doing, girl, drinking it?" She smiled easily, glancing at Jane. "How'd that couch work out for you, Dr. Quinn? I came in for rounds at five this morning and I gotta say, you looked like Paul Bunyan taking a nap."

"Thank you," Jane replied breezily, appreciating the humor. "Just need another ten thousand milligrams of Advil for the back problems it will give me, but fine."

"Well," Rhonda replied, looking down at a clipboard she held. "Looks like you can stop off at the Walgreens for that, because Dr. Isles, you're headed home this morning. We're discharging you into the hands of you caretaker, here," she said with a wave of her hand towards Jane, who smiled proudly.

Maura looked up at her, eyes wide. "Caretaker?" she repeated.

"What, you don't think I can take care of you?" Jane asked, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"Judging by how you take care of yourself?" Maura asked, but she shook her head with a small smile. "I think you've proven that you can take care of me."

"Well, you're both in luck, because it isn't that hard," Rhonda said, cutting in between the two of them. "If you can handle fasciotomy, you can handle this." She glanced up at Jane. "You don't have a weak stomach do you?"

Jane glanced at Maura with a grin, deciding to spare poor Rhonda the details of her nine to five job as a homicide cop. Weak stomachs didn't get very far in her line of work. "Thankfully, no," she replied.

"All right then," Rhonda said, laying out several pieces of gauze and tape wrapping onto the bed. "You got your gauze, your bandages, your tape, and your wrapping. She walked them through the process, making Jane clean the wounds, which appeared as two jagged lines running the length of Maura's shin, and then wrap them. Once she was satisfied, she gave Jane an approving nod. "All right then," she repeated, darting a conspiratorial look at Maura. "If you ask me, you got a talented caretaker. But nobody asks me."

She dropped the used dressings in the trash, rubbing her gloved hands together. "You call a ride yet?" she asked. "It will probably take another hour for me to complete the discharge, and I'll get a wheelchair up here, but we'll comp parking for you if your ride needs to wait."

"I'll take care of it," Jane said with a nod, reaching for the phone in her pocket, which had, by now, dried completely and was working fine, despite the cracked screen. She started to put it up to her ear, but thought better of it, instead holding it a few inches away from her head. No need to prolong their stay with an accidental cut.

"You're the caretaker," Rhonda replied, turning her attention back to Maura. "Dr. Isles, what's your specialty?" she asked casually. "Surgery? You certainly know a lot about fasciotomy."

"She knows a lot about everything," Jane cut in from the window as the phone rang in her ear. "But her specialty is dead people."

"I'm a medical examiner," Maura emphasized, darting Jane an exasperated look. Tact had never been her strong point.

"And she's a detective?" Rhonda asked, pointing toward Jane.

Maura nodded. "Homicide, yes."

"You examine her dead bodies, then?"

Maura cocked her head. "Yes. And others. Anytime there's a suspicious death, really." She straightened in her bed, rarely enjoying the opportunity to talk at length about her work. She usually lost her listeners at the word 'autopsy'. "It's quite rewarding work, actually."

Rhonda pursed her lips. "Hmm. I think I'll opt for sticking people with needles and changing bedpans." Maura frowned as the conversation suddenly ended, her quick career spotlight expired.

Jane tossed her phone back onto the couch. "Tommy's on his way," she said, unable to cover up her scowl. He was the first that had picked up the phone, and the first who offered. Who was she to decline just because she happened to be a bit jealous of her own brother? Besides, at this point, he was preferable to her mother; she could at least manage him better.

"Dr. Isles, you got things to change into, right?" Rhonda asked, turning towards a small closet, where Maura's clothes from the previous night were crumpled into a small plastic bag. She tossed it to Jane. "Girlfriend, why don't you handle that," she said, heading towards the door. "I'll go check on those discharge papers and grab you some more gauze to take home with you."

Jane watched her leave with raised eyebrows and turned to glance at Maura, the bag hanging daintily from her fingers. "You want to handle this by yourself?" she asked, suddenly nervous.

"Some caretaker you are," Maura said with a laugh. "You're like a twelve-year-old boy."

"That is not true," Jane said. "Because a twelve-year-old would almost certainly want to see you naked." If her comment had been intended to lighten the mood, it only served to redden her face even more.

Maura ignored her, instead gingerly lifting her legs over the edge of the bed. "Just help me a little," she said, moving to raise herself off the bed.

"What? Come on, Maur, sit down," Jane insisted, walking over to her and forcing her back onto the bed, tossing the clothes down next to her. "The last thing we need is you taking a spill and rupturing something in your good leg."

Maura fingered the plastic bag sadly. "A Proenza Schouler jacket crumpled up in a plastic bag."

"Yes, the fashion gods are weeping," Jane said, opening the bag and dumping its contents onto the bed. It looked like everything was there, except of course, for the boots, which thankfully had been the only casualty the night before. As Maura lamented the state of her jacket, holding it up with a frown in front of her, Jane fingered a pair of black lace panties, raising her eyebrows at the thought of sliding them up Maura's thighs. She subconsciously licked her lips, biting back the guilt that she felt as a familiar fantasy perked its way through her brain. In her imagination, however, she had been performing the gesture in reverse, and certainly not on top of a hospital bed.

She abruptly cleared her throat. "Uh, here are... these," she said, bending down and slipping them over Maura's socked feet and over the bulky bandage. As Maura stood, Jane helped her balance as the shorter woman pulled them the rest of the way up her hips, letting the parachute-like hospital gown cover them quickly. They repeated the process with Maura's black trousers, with Jane snapping the buttons into place as Maura gripped her shoulders.

Jane tried to keep her eyes focused solely on her task, like a good caretaker, but was mainly preoccupied with breathing, hoping that her nerves weren't showing through her shaking hands. Her gaze flitted upwards, where Maura was following the actions of her fingers. "There," she said, swallowing and taking a step back. "Now you look like... you're in a hospital gown and pants."

"Well, pants is an improvement," Maura said with a small smile as she tried to work the knot behind her neck. "Will you untie me?"

Jane nodded, rounding the bed and reaching over to untie the strings at Maura's back, her fingers just slightly grazing the skin there. She cleared her throat, taking another step back and tried to avert her gaze as Maura slid the gown from her torso, tossing it aside. A particularly nasty bruise just above the small of her back caught Jane's eye, and she gasped as she leaned into it, running her fingers gently over it. "You got a pretty bad bruise here," she said, but her fingers suddenly froze at the contact of smooth, warm skin and Maura's muscles tightened under her touch.

"I'm sure we've both got our share of bruises," Maura finally offered, but didn't move away from Jane's hand. Instead, she simply slipped her bra onto her shoulders, clasping it deftly before sliding her blouse over her arms. She turned her head backwards, glancing at Jane with a casual smile. "What do you think? Good as new?"

"A little wear and tear," Jane replied, but she smiled as she rounded the bed, staring down at Maura's feet, thankful that her tender gesture hadn't been made more awkward. "I think you're acceptable. Those blue socks, however..."

Maura laughed, crinkling her toes on her good foot as Jane took a seat next to her. "I hate hospitals," she said.

"But you love morgues?"

Maura dropped her head, and Jane thought she detected a small blush, a reaction that could only mean the blonde was revealing something rarely shared with anyone else. "Strange, huh?"

Jane shook her head. "Not at all. Hospitals are shitty places."

"Yeah. Filled with live people." Maura shook her head. "I never once went to the hospital as a kid. I never broke a bone, or needed stitches, or anything." She gave a half-hearted chuckle, only slightly tinged with sadness. "There's not much room for danger when you spend most of your time alone. What about you?" she asked, patting Jane's knee. "I can't imagine the number of times your mother rushed you or your brothers to the emergency room."

Jane rolled her eyes. "We needed a frequent ER card," she said. "Nine visits, the tenth one's free!" She laughed, lifting her own pant leg and revealing a long, thin scar along the outside of her knee. "This one was the worst, though."

Maura looked down at it, nodding her head. "Anterior cruciate ligament tear," she said with a nod. "Not too invasive of a surgery, but a painful recovery. How did it happen? Soccer, hockey, rugby, some other overly aggressive sport?"

Jane blushed and suddenly wished she had demonstrated another scar, at least one that had a better story behind it. "Ah, I don't remember," she said quickly, ducking her head as she pushed her pant leg back down. Maura's eyes were on her, however, and she pressed further.

"What's it from?" she repeated, pushing against Jane's leg with her own.

"It's not indicative of my usual sports preferences," Jane returned, catching Maura's grin as she glanced expectantly at her. For the first time in weeks she caught a glint of happiness in them, and she took the time to appreciate it.

"Come on, what was it, ballet?" Maura asked.

Jane frowned. "Okay, Maur, that's still not a sport, okay? It's dance, it's a whole different category. We've been over this."

"Well, what was it?"

Jane sighed, biting her lip and taking the plunge. "Ice skating."

For a moment Maura just stared, her mouth open in amusement before finally recovering. "Aw, Jane," she cooed, pinching her arm. "I bet you were adorable. Did you wear a little sparkling ice skating skirt?" Maura smiled, enjoying an opportunity to ride the detective, just a bit. It not only kept her mind off the pain in her leg, it kept it from dwelling on that touch at her back. She was used to their casual touches, but Jane's fingers on her skin had lit up her back with something that didn't remotely resemble pain, and until she figured it out, she needed to prolong the distraction.

"Yes, I did," Jane said hastily. "I took it up because I knew it was the only sport Tommy and Frankie wouldn't try to upstage me in."

"I bet you were great at it," Maura offered.

"Not exactly," Jane said. "My instructor once told me I reminded her of Bullwinkle on a pair of skis."

Maura covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Jane tossed an accusatory glance her way, but her dark eyes quickly softened. "Well, luckily, you turned out okay," Maura said, still chuckling. Their laughs collided into one another, fading after a moment into the quiet hum of the room.

Maura sighed. "I just want to go home." She didn't know why, exactly. Her home had been a lonely place for the past few days without Angela or Jane barging in at all hours. The quiet that permeated the space around her lately reminded her of her childhood, and she realized how much she missed what Jane had given her over the past three years.

Jane pursed her lips. "You may have a small welcoming crew when you get there," she said. "But don't worry, I'll get them the hell out of there as soon as I can."

"I don't mind your family, Jane."

"Speaking of family..." Jane said, glancing down at Maura. "You going to call your mother or you want me to do it?"

Maura looked wearily at her. "I'm not calling my mother. I'm fine, there's no reason to bother her."

Jane balked, raising an eyebrow. "You don't think she's going to wonder why you're sporting a designer bandage when she sees you?"

"I'll explain it when I see her. I don't want to upset her, she's finally back at home."

Jane glanced at Maura. She would never understand the intricacies of her relationship with her parents, but she knew enough to respect it, however little it made sense to her. "That's fine," she said. "You'll have enough smothering to last you for awhile with Ma Rizzoli, trust me."

"Your mother's been too kind to me," Maura said.

Jane looked at her. "She loves you," she replied, her eyes deepening. "We all do."

Maura rested her head on Jane's shoulder, an innocent gesture, nothing she wouldn't ordinarily do, but it gave her more comfort than usual. She sniffed, pressing her nose against Jane's arm, then her own. "We both are in dire need of a shower," she said.

"What, you don't like smell of sweat and fear, with a faint hint of terror?" Jane asked with a grin. Her comment was jovial, but the words pulled a reminder of the previous night over them, blanketing their levity with terse sadness.

Maura spoke finally, her voice low and thick. "The last time I was that scared was in that hospital room with Hoyt."

Jane swallowed, the memory shooting into her throat with a dull lump. "Yeah," she agreed. "I'd say this time you came out a little worse for wear, though. But least you can enjoy a beer without that kick of aluminum." Her attempt at lightness fell flat, even on her own tongue, and she swallowed again.

"I'm not talking about losing my leg," Maura said. "I'm talking about the thought of losing you." She slowly traced Jane's hand, which was still on her knee, grazing the bumps of her knuckles. "That scares me more than anything."

"Even more than flesh-scarfing bacteria?"

Maura was silent, and Jane chanced a look at her, meeting a pair of hazel eyes that held a deepness she rarely saw there, as if they were holding a secret that was too raw to be spoken. Jane's humor had only gotten her so far with Maura, and if she really was going to take her mother's advice for once, she'd have to stop hiding behind it. "Maura - " she began, but was cut off by the familiar click of the door.

"All right, then," Rhonda said, entering the room pushing a wheelchair in one hand and carrying a set of crutches in the other. "Got the discharge papers and you're ready to go."

As Rhonda went over the papers with Maura, Jane half-listened, a part of her more than grateful for the interruption and the other part wondering when she would get the balls to try broaching the subject again. She snapped to attention as Rhonda motioned for her, and the two of them helped Maura into the chair, the blonde still clutching her jacket.

"Dr. Isles, it was nice knowing you," Rhonda said, then tossed a glance at Jane. "You too, Dr. Quinn."

Jane rolled her eyes, but gave her a small wave as she wheeled Maura out of the room. "Tommy should be here in a little while," she said. "But at least the lobby is a change of scenery."

"Jane," Maura said, after a beat. "Did we forget the crutches?"

Jane stopped quickly, the chair lurching slightly and she grimaced as she put her hands on Maura's shoulders, keeping her in place. "Oh, good call, Maur," she said, parking the chair alongside the elevator. "I'll grab them. Don't go anywhere."

"Not planning on it."

Jane walked briskly back into the room, where Rhonda cut her eyes at her as she sat on the bed. "Wondered how long it would take you to remember these," she said, gesturing to the crutches beside her.

"Yeah, don't bother running after us or anything," Jane quipped, grabbing them.

"If you ask me," Rhonda piped, "the two of you seem lucky to have each other."

Jane nodded, slowly, appreciating the comment. It was a truth she hadn't acknowledged over the past few days, but the night at the retreat had changed that. "Yeah, well," she said with a smirk. "No one asked you."

Rhonda laughed, waving her hand towards the door. "The two of you get outta my hospital," she said.

"Glad to!" Jane called over her shoulder as she made her way back to Maura, who was waiting for her with a curious smile. Her normally shiny hair poofed dryly at her shoulders, making her look smaller than normal, and her skin was still wan from exhaution, but as Maura smiled up at her, Jane felt a well of relief open inside her, filling the void. She had Maura back, and this time, she wouldn't lose her.

Just thought I'd continue in this "deleted scene" vein for another chapter or so. If there's interest, I thought about keeping this going throughout Season 3 and tackling upcoming episodes in hopes of adding to the real canon. But only if there's interest - you guys are half the fun of writing!

Thanks for all of the great feedback so far.

Hey Ren, thanks for the beta :)