Author's Note: A huge thank you to those that have shown interest in this my second attempt at a Rizzoli & Isles story. The reviews are much appreciated and yes, I know, it's terribly bad of me to post a new chapter for this one before I update the other one but please be assured, the 'MOWE' addition will not be left, it's just that this one really got a hold of me and wouldn't let me go.

I thought when I posted the first chapter that I had this one virtually pegged but after several real life intrusions and numerous re-writes and tweaks it turned out I still had a little way to go. The story expanded and now I have a dilemma but I'm going to shut up for now and let you read it first...

DISCLAIMERS: For full disclaimers see Chapter 1. I do not own Rizzoli & Isles or any of the characters.

All constructive comments, opinions and suggestions are welcome so please read and review...

Chapter 2

The bastard was dead.

The sick perverted bastard was actually dead and she had been the one to do it. Sure, she had used deadly force before but this had been up close and personal. She had never experienced such a vicious exhilaration, the heady combination of savage fury and triumph as she delivered the killing blow or the mind numbing fear that it wouldn't be enough, would never be enough.

She had never been so afraid. In fact, she didn't think she had ever stopped being afraid not since the day he had taken her down with a two by four and pinned her with such searing agony by the centre of her fleshy palms.

Her hands hurt.

They were hurting and she couldn't stop trembling. Why couldn't she stop trembling?

Her breathing hitched as she fought to keep in a sob.

Her head hurt. She couldn't remember when had she banged her head?

Damn it, everything hurt! Come on Rizzoli, get it together.

What's that smell?

Cologne?

Oh God, Korsak. She was being held by Korsak. He was holding her and she was trembling like a frightened, fragile child trying not to sob.

No, she clawed at her identity; Jane Rizzoli is not a frightened fragile child. What the hell?

She began to struggle against the arms that held her. She didn't want him to see her like this, not again, not ever.

No, she needed to go. Can't be seen like this. Not by anyone, most certainly not by her partner it was bad enough last time.

This sick bastard, who happened to be dead, was not going to rob her of her self-respect again. He would not rob her of anything again.

Maura, where was Maura? The bastard had cut her; the smug bastard had tazered and cut her and was going to...

She felt sick.

Damn it, was she crying again? Jane Rizzoli did not cry.

She clenched her hands absently noticing they were still tied together and felt once more the painful cramping ache.

Frustrated she endeavoured to break free.

~/\~

When Korsak had first arrived on the scene he had initially only been aware of an armed target moving toward his ex-partner with clear intent to cause bodily harm and he had no hesitation in firing his gun to place two shots in the rogue guard's centre mass killing him instantly.

It was only after he and Frost secured the room that he was able to see the full grizzly horror of Jane's blood streaked face and Charles Hoyt supine beneath her valiantly trying to gasp in his last lungful of life.

She was a mess, in some ways she looked worse now than when he found her in that dingy basement a couple of years ago, her arms outstretched like a perverse sacrificial offering and her hands cruelly staked to the ground. Back then he had thought she looked broken, a vital part of who she was momentarily lost but here and now he thought she looked wild and if he were blatantly honest, a little unhinged.

He took in the state of the room and the two bodies on the floor. His quick assessment and years on the force visualising how she would have had to fight two armed assailants all while having her hands bound together and no doubt scared out of her mind. He truly wished Jane would appreciate how his respect for her had just gone up another notch. In his book she was entitled to look more than a little unhinged.

He'd pulled her away from the body, gathering her up in his arms to offer whatever comfort he could while keeping up a steady iteration of 'you're okay' as much to reassure himself as it was to reassure her. He desperately wanted to remove the plastic restraints and even though Jane appeared more alert he was still reluctant to completely release his charge. She was unsteady on her feet and recalling how she had sagged against him; he held her closer unwilling to let her fall.

After only seconds Jane's strangled sobs gave way to gasps for breath and Korsak couldn't understand why Jane was practically fighting him where moments before she had seemed to welcome his consoling embrace. He became aware of her pushing him away and couldn't prevent the parallel of how she had pushed him away before. It had hurt back then and it hurt now. So what if everyone knew he was a big softy with an affinity for small furry creatures, he had a fondness for humans too and this one was very special. She was the best partner he'd ever had and he still didn't really understand why she wasn't his partner anymore, why she didn't want him to ever see her like this but today he didn't care. He was here for her and he would always be here for her and if what Jane wanted was for him to leave her alone, he would do it but only on one condition.

Deciding he needed back up he looked around.

He spotted Maura and relieved to see that she seemed relatively unharmed considering her ordeal silently indicated his need for help.

~/\~

Similar in sensation to the opening of the Eustachian tubes and air being released from the middle ear, the room gained a sudden welcome sharpness and definition as lucidity at long last returned to Maura. She had finally found her feet, literally and figuratively, as she slid off the bed and stood mindful of Detective Frost hovering solicitously nearby.

She caught him glancing at her neck where the thankfully shallow cut had allowed a small amount of blood to run, the coagulation process starting almost the instant the endothelium lining of her blood vessels were damaged, and absurdly felt mildly self-conscious. She knew it wasn't because her appearance was below her usual pristine standards it was because of what that cut represented. It was a violation and regardless of any scarring, much like the blood stain on her designer dress, she had been indelibly marked.

She shivered and rubbed at her wrists, relieved at regaining independent movement.

Unsure how to process what was without question one of the most harrowing moments of her life her attention was drawn to the sight of her friend.

"Get them off of me. Get them off!" Jane's husky voice sounded even rougher than usual and she was frantically waving her bound wrists as she pushed away from Korsak, her shaking body and untamed hair adding a sense of feral beauty to her visage.

Korsak was clearly out of his depth and was now looking searchingly at Maura in a desperate cry for help.

Maura noted Jane's growing distress and, worried she would do further harm to herself, turned and quietly spoke to the anxious looking detective beside her. "Barry, could you please give us the room?"

Barry tore his eyes away from the mesmerising scene of his partner's transformation into a Tasmanian devil and took a minute to interpret Maura's request.

"Now," Maura said urgently.

Knowing what an intensely private person Jane was Maura understood from personal experience how mortified her friend would be to have so many witnesses to her budding mini meltdown. Maura remembered only too well how genuinely uncomfortable Jane had been at all the attention she received during the first weeks of her recovery as a result of her self-inflicted gunshot wound. It had reached the point where she had asked Maura to speak to her friends and colleagues to ask them to stay away and she could still recall the hurt in Frost and Korsak's eyes when she had relayed the message to them.

At the moment though, all she cared about was Jane.

Fortunately Frost was an intelligent man and knew better than to argue with the no nonsense tone he recognised all too well. He indicated to the other men in the room they should leave attaining only minimal resistance in the form of the warden. The odious prick was no doubt trying to find a way to salvage his career and stupidly opened his mouth to make some kind of argument then thought better of it when Maura just glared at him.

Maura could not believe the gall of the man. She was still silently cheering her friend for her response to his suggestion of her being hysterical even as she feared that if they didn't leave the room soon they may just see this come to pass.

Beaten, the warden trailed out of the room with the others leaving only Maura, Korsak and Jane behind.

Maura picked up the surgical scissors used to release her own hands and approached Korsak. She placed her hand on his shoulder to let him know she was there and told him, "It's okay Vince, I've got this."

Relieved but worried he stepped back.

Jane stared defiantly at him and then glared at Maura as if to say, 'come on already, why the hell are my hands still tied?'

Acknowledging the ladies probably needed a moment alone Korsak took one last look, nodded and reluctantly left the room. Vowing to give them as much time as he could before the circus erupted he went in search of the warden, he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

~/\~

Alone in the room save for the bodies on the floor, Jane waved her wrists hopefully at Maura.

Saying nothing, Maura eyed the perceptively swaying woman as she drew nearer and used one hand to steady the trembling hands presented to her while the other cut the plastic bonds and released Jane from their grip.

Immediately Jane's first action was to rub at her wrists as Maura had done and then shake her hands out as if to rid them of excess water. Only it wasn't water she was trying to dispel. Running a hand through her hair to pull it away from her face she became conscious of the blood there and on her hand. She looked up from her bloodied hands to face Maura and instantly locked on to the red line marring Maura's throat.

Sickened and reaching emotional overload she stumbled away from the bodies and supported herself against the wall. With mounting horror she realised that she was actually about to be sick.

Unable to quell the nausea she felt the bile rise and bent double, disgorging the meagre contents of her stomach with a dull wet splat on the infirmary floor. It was at this point her legs finally gave out and she collapsed, sliding down the wall to end in a quivering mass of long limbs and hair.

Maura hurried to her, unsurprised by the turn of events but naturally concerned. She grabbed at the blanket on the nearby bed and yanked it free settling it around Jane's shoulders as she hunkered down next to her.

Jane managed a smile in thanks and then hurriedly turned away to throw up again. This time it was little more than a watery substance, she was sure Maura would have some fancy name for it. Ugh, she felt shitty. All in all it had been a completely shitty day. Even the silver lining of Hoyt's death couldn't as yet penetrate through the sheer horror and pure shittiness of this day.

She had braced herself against the floor with wobbly arms that felt like wet noodles and briefly closed her eyes, unsure whether she was going to be sick again or if that was finally it. Running her tongue around her teeth she spat the remnants on the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand noting with disgust it was still shaking.

"Jane," Maura said, gently rubbed soothing circles on Jane's back.

Jane turned away from the offensive reminder on the floor and curled into Maura's one armed embrace, pathetically mewling at the motion of Maura's hand offering some comfort. She had nearly lost her today. He had had his blade to her throat and she had seen the blood; Maura's blood. Her mind's eye felt the tearing of Maura's flesh as keenly as her sanity being ripped asunder. There had been nothing after that except a miasma of hatred and rage.

She tilted back her head and closed her eyes again; she couldn't seem to breathe properly and was having difficulty catching her breath.

A hand cupped her face, warm and soft.

"Jane, are you still with me?"

Like she could be anywhere else, with anyone else. "Hm mm," she managed. "Little dizzy."

The skin under her hand had adopted a sickly grey pallor and was cold and clammy to the touch. Maura was becoming even more concerned by the shallow rapid breathing which showed no signs of evening out. Considering her next move she was surprised when Jane's eyes finally opened to look directly at her and she noted with medical interest their dull, dilated state.

"Wh...why can't I stop shaking?" Jane asked, pulling the blanket in tighter.

"You're in shock Jane," Maura told her.

"Well, why do I have to be in shock?" she asked indignantly. "Why aren't you in shock?"

"You want me to be in shock too?" Maura asked with her hurt 'is that really what you want?' look.

"No," Jane admitted like an admonished child and then violently shivered again. She hated the thought of Maura being hurt or injured and could barely glance at the wound on her neck without her stomach tensing and threatening to vomit yet again. She sucked in a breath, "This sucks."

"It's not unexpected Jane, in fact it's a perfectly natural response." Maura looked as if she was going to say more but stopped herself, examining Jane closely.

"Can't you make it stop?" Jane asked hopefully.

Maura wished she could but could only smile in sympathy as she shook her head no.

"Well... how long until it stops?" Jane asked and glanced beyond Maura to the two bodies lying on the other side of the room. "We still have a crime scene to process."

Maura's eyes widened although she knew she shouldn't be surprised. Jane would want things to get back to normal as soon as possible, to tackle the case and be a cop first and foremost.

Jane's breathing hitched and she shuddered again, her skin incredibly going even paler than it had moments before.

"What is it?" Maura asked. "Are you going to be sick again?"

Jane clamped her jaw and shook her head 'no' determined she would most definitely not be sick again, there wouldn't be anything left to come out anyway she was sure.

"Jane," Maura drew her attention again, "you just need to calm down."

"You really want me to learn those meditation exercises don't you doc?" she stuttered.

"Medical research has shown that meditation can be beneficial and have very positive effects on a person's emotional well-being," Maura began and then caught Jane rolling her eyes. Using her free hand Maura reached out to grab Jane's bloodied, scarred hands and extract them from the blanket. Holding them she looked earnestly at her friend and sighed heavily.

"What?" Jane smirked even as she continued to gasp, "Do I have something on my face?"

Maura smiled in return. The blood, which up close she noted was Jane's, had bled with the typical severity all head wounds do but it could not detract from the sheer perfection of Jane's beautifully, sculptured face. "It's important and I need you to calm your breathing or you're going to hyperventilate."

Jane's eyes widened again, "Um... okay." She wasn't sure how she was supposed to do that because she had been trying to do that for what felt like the last ten minutes or so.

"Deep breath in," Maura demonstrated having seen the flash of panic, "long breath out. That's it." She kept up the reassuring strokes to Jane's back as Jane's hands convulsively clutched at her other hand until eventually her breathing slowed and steadied.

Both needing without saying the sustained physical connection, they sat for a short while in companionable silence each lost in their own thoughts content to hold and be held. Only the controlled in and out and the rhythmic circular motion which Maura maintained broke the stillness of their personal crucible.

Jane welcomed this brief respite after the frenzy of the fight and its immediate aftermath. Not being a person who could easily compartmentalise what she was thinking and feeling the constant movie reel playing in her head was playing havoc with her emotions. There were too many things to feel, too much all at once, relief, shame, anger, fear, guilt.

She dipped her head forward as her shoulders mercifully released some of their tension and she could feel the smart of fresh tears burning her eyes. In her deep scratchy voice she softly husked, "I killed him, Maura."

A commotion at the door caught their attention before Maura had an opportunity to respond and Cavanaugh burst in with an apologetic looking Korsak trailing behind him.

Embarrassed, Jane moved to swiftly push to her feet surreptitiously using the wall for support and Maura followed suit. The blanket she had wrapped around her fell away with the last of her adrenaline and in its place she felt a wave of fatigue enshroud her.

"Rizzoli, Dr Isles," Cavanaugh greeted and then motioned to one of the bodies in the room, "That him?"

"Yes sir," Jane responded and hastily wiped at her eyes where fresh tears had formed. She cleared her throat wincing as she swallowed and then falling back on the habits of procedure and protocol she began delivering her report. "Mason was working with Hoyt." His name still tasted bitter on her tongue for all the sweetness of her victory. "Mason paid Graham to swallow the balloon and then he killed him."

"It wasn't a shiv," Maura interjected, "Mason used a scalpel."

Cavanaugh looked at them both and raised his brow in question.

"It was all about Hoyt and getting me here with him. He wanted us to follow his clues." She had tried to tell Cavanaugh it was all about Hoyt when the investigation began and yet she didn't feel the usual smug satisfaction of being right, the price this time had nearly been too high.

"It'll all be in my report, sir."

"I look forward to reading it."

He looked down at Hoyt's body. Korsak had briefed him on the way in and he viewed Jane's handiwork with his own eyes, the embedded scalpel standing erect like a miniature sword in the stone. "IA will want to talk with you," he advised.

Jane nodded. From a procedural point of view there would be no question of her actions being ruled as a justifiable homicide, she just dreaded the formality.

Cavanaugh surveyed the room taking note of the disarray before bringing his eyes back to his top detective and chief medical examiner. It was clear they had been through the wars and yet Rizzoli's gaze was challenging when he made eye contact with her. He took in all the blood and the bruising already evident around the detective's throat, then noticed the matching cuts along their necks.

"Make sure you see a medic," he instructed, "both of you."

Jane huffed, not liking the way her Lieutenant always managed to view her as if she was still a victim. She was not a victim damn it! She had won! Again.

"Yes, sir," she half-heartedly agreed.

"Of course," Maura said perplexed at such an obvious instruction. Casting a glance at Jane however she considered what she knew of her friend's established patterns of behaviour and became unconvinced the sometimes difficult woman would obey the order without persuasion.

Jane's statement earlier had left her intrigued and she suspected she may have been about to tell her something more. Irrationally, she found herself bristling with annoyance at the timing of Cavanaugh's intrusion but then this was a crime scene and they had a job to do.

There would be time later.

So I have to say I felt pretty darn chuffed when I wrote this which doesn't happen very often and that has me slightly worried – what do you think? Any good?

As for the dilemma... could it end here? Comments, thoughts, opinions all appreciated :)