A/N: (From SociallyAwkwardPenguin) The events that took place at the Boston Marathon weigh heavily upon my heart, and I wanted to tell the people of Boston that my thoughts are with them. I originally thought it would be best to skip posting this week, to allow everyone a chance to start to heal. Ultimately though, I thought it would be better to keep going. Hopefully this chapter will bring everyone some much-needed cheer. My heart goes out to you, Boston. May everyone affected find comfort and solace during these difficult times.

(From my super-ninja-beta, CharlietheCAG) This year I started running. Out of necessity, and out of a desire to be good at something. The great thing about running, is that as long as you get out there and try your best, you can never fail at it. Running probably saved my life, and quickly become something that was a part of me. I just do it. If you ask me what I am, among the many things I would tell you about me, one of the first things would probably be "I am a runner."

The senseless acts of violence at the finish line of the Boston Marathon on Monday hit very close to home for me on many levels. The foremost as a runner. Runners are a community, spread out across the globe, regardless of creed or nationality. When you pass another runner on the street, track, or even on the treadmill next to you at the gym, you just know. "Hey, we are family. We are both crazy enough to lace up our sneakers, get out there, and push ourselves to run! We didn't sit on the couch today! Go us!"

My heart goes out to those affected by the events at the Boston Marathon. It will carry major repercussions for many people, for a lifetime. I know I'll carry it with me forever. Thankfully the running community is resilient. For that matter, so is humanity. We manage to persevere time after time. We pick ourselves up and keep going. We must in order to survive. Last night I got out there and I ran. I ran for me. I ran for Boston. I ran to just run. Because life goes on. If you stop it will pass you by. In this tradition I have encouraged my pudgy penguin of a writer to post today's update. Not out of any disrespect to anyone affected by these events, but out of a need to carry on. So to everyone out there, in Boston or anywhere else in the world, keep going. Keep on running. Show everyone how strong you are even when someone else is trying to get you down. "Don't let fatigue make a coward of you."

And now, on to the story:

It turned out that I did have a potassium deficiency, due in part to poor absorption from my resected bowel and also in part from eating poorly. The deficiency wasn't bad enough to cause heart arrhythmia, thankfully, but it was a cause for concern. I got my first IV potassium treatment that afternoon, with the hopes that my pre-op testing for the following day would go as planned. I was also given permission to eat a banana with lunch, and told that if I didn't eat my entire meal, I would not be going in for surgery the next day. All foods had to be stopped by six o'clock that evening, so I would also have to have an early dinner, and I had to eat all of it.

It was pathetic, especially since I don't particularly like bananas, but it was nice to have food that required more than just a symbolic amount of chewing. My throat had healed to the point where swallowing was only mildly painful, almost as if I was getting over a cold. By that point my voice had returned to its naturally gravelly self, instead of outright hoarse. I still didn't look like myself and I didn't feel like myself, but at least I was starting to sound like myself again.

A nutritionist had been assigned to monitor my food intake and make sure I was getting balanced nutrition. It felt like the day the private nurse showed up after I pulled my ventilator tube out in the ICU. Another babysitter to add to the growing list of babysitters. I hadn't purposely been starving myself. Wasn't it normal for people who didn't feel well to stop eating? It was really beginning to irritate me how my every move was monitored and controlled. I couldn't wait to be able to make my own decisions about silly things like whether or not I was hungry enough to eat something, or what I could put in my mouth. TJ probably had more autonomy than I did at that point, and it frustrated me to no end.

I spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in my room at the rehab. Once I ate lunch I started to feel a little better. I wasn't as sore, and I had very few leg cramps. I leafed through the magazines my mother had brought for me. They were mostly news magazines that were a few weeks old. I noticed they had all been sent to Maura.

The name on the address label simply said "Dr. Maura Isles". I noticed the lack of a hyphenated name, and wondered if Maura had decided against changing her name. Or maybe the subscriptions were so old that she just kept her name that way on them. I didn't recall her subscribing to these magazines when I'd been to her house, though. Maura had generally preferred to get her news via the internet or in the evening when she watched television. It was an interesting development. If she hadn't hyphenated her name, I was secretly glad. Maura was too wonderful to have anyone else's name but her own.

I shifted between reading the magazines and watching the television, chatting with Sara occasionally. Sara was professional and kind, and attentive to my every need, but she wasn't my friend, and that's really what I needed more than anything else.

"Is your mother coming tonight?" she asked me about a half hour before she was scheduled to leave.

"I don't think so."

"Oh. I just thought she would come see you before your surgery."

"We argued yesterday, and I told her not to come."

"Is everything okay, Jane? Do you want me to call her and ask her to come?"

"Nah, but thanks. That's nice of you. Tomorrow's not going to be so bad. Not after everything else I've been through. I'm not worried."

"Still, it would be nice if she came to see you, wouldn't it?"

"No, because every time she comes she makes me feel guilty about things. I'd rather the break."

Sara nodded. "I understand. I'm going to go get your dinner and your evening meds. I'll stay tonight until you fall asleep, okay?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I just want to make sure you get a good night's rest. You may think tomorrow is going to be easy, but you're going to need your strength, even for that simple surgery. I won't stay too long."

"Thanks. That's really nice of you. Still, you don't have to stay."

"I want to."

"Let's see how things go after dinner," I said, and smiled at her.

Sara left to go get my dinner and my evening meds. She came back with a tray and I noticed another banana on it, along with some other food.

"I never really liked bananas before. I'm going to be sick of them before long."

"What's your favorite food?" Sara asked, making conversation.

"Cheeseburgers with extra pickles."

"Once you're on normal food, probably next week, you probably won't have these issues with nutrient deficiencies. The nutritionist will adjust your diet as needed. And I'll see what I can do about cheeseburgers for you. I don't think they serve them here."

"Now that is something to look forward to."

I sat there and dutifully ate my dinner. I didn't want them to give them a reason to not remove the feeding tube Wednesday morning.

Sara cleared the tray away when I was finished, and injected my evening meds into the IV I still had running. She wheeled me into the bathroom so I could take care of my nightly routine.

"Let's get you into pajamas and into bed. The night nurse said that you might want a sedative to sleep tonight. She can administer it later, after I leave if you want. Or she can give it to you now and I can wait for you to fall asleep like I said I would."

"I think I will take her up on the sedative, but a little later. For now I just want to relax a little bit. I'm not that tired. I slept most of the day, and I didn't have therapy today, so I'm not exhausted like I usually am. Maybe I'll be able to stay awake until eight or nine tonight."

I said that like it was something to be proud of. Less than a year before that, I was used to working for days at a time when I was on a case. Suddenly I had been thrust into a situation where staying up until nine o'clock at night made me feel like I had accomplished something.

"Sure, do you want me to stay for a little while? Keep you company?"

"Only if you have absolutely nothing better to do, and I bet that you do have better things to do."

Sara looked at me and tried to figure out where I was coming from. "I just don't want you to be all alone the night before your surgery."

"I'm used to being alone, Sara. And I'm not scared of the surgery. So why not go home, and enjoy your night? And tomorrow and Wednesday I'll be at the hospital so I'm guessing this is going to be like a little vacation for you. Why not go enjoy it?"

"Are you sure?"

"It's really, really nice of you to offer to stay, but it's okay. Thank you though." I smiled at her, to reassure her.

"All right then." She said as she put me back into bed. She left the television remote and the pile of magazines next to the bed for me.

"Good luck tomorrow and Wednesday, Jane. I hope there are no problems with your preoperative testing, and I hope the surgery goes smoothly. I'll see you on Friday."

"Thanks Sara. Enjoy your days off."

"I will. I'll let the night nurse know about the sedative on my way out, okay?"

"Sure, thanks."

She left, and I flipped on the television. I settled on some sitcom I'd seen a hundred times before and pulled out the stack of magazines, suddenly curious about what world events I had missed while I'd been in a coma. A manilla envelope fell out from between two of the magazines, and I realized it was the photos my mother had mentioned she brought the day before. I slowly opened up the envelope.

There were at least twenty pictures in the envelope, most of them printed on a color inkjet printer, as if they were blown up copies of scanned photos or digital prints.

The first picture in the pile was a picture of my brothers and I, along with my mother, three years before, as we stood in Maura's dining room before Christmas dinner. Everyone was all full of smiles. I had a hard time looking at myself in that photo. I wasn't that person anymore, and it hurt to realize it. That had been the last Christmas before William had shown up. I wish I would have known then what life was going to be like for me in the years to come. I probably would have enjoyed that Christmas more. I probably would have told Maura I loved her. Maybe I would have even tried to kiss her under the mistletoe, like I'd been tempted to every year since I'd met her.

The next photo was a picture of Tommy holding TJ. It looked fairly recent. TJ was grinning into the camera, his rambunctiousness shining through his expression. I liked that photo and kept it out of the envelope to put up on the wall near my bed.

There was a picture of Frankie next, in his police uniform. I thought seeing him in uniform would be upsetting to me, but it actually felt rather normal to see him dressed like that, and I relished the feeling. Nothing felt normal anymore, so I grasped at the feeling and I kept that photo out too, to put up on the wall next to my bed.

The next photo was of my mother, smiling at the camera. The photo was taken inside Maura's guesthouse. Based on the circles under my mother's eyes, I guessed this photo was recent too. I was starting to wonder if my mother had Maura do a photo project and then print out the pictures. Maura was the only one of the people in my family that had a printer capable of these photos, if I recalled correctly. Despite my anger at my mother, I kept that photo out as well. The pictures of my mother and brothers would look good near my bed. I could see them every day that way.

There were a couple of pictures of Jo Friday and my tortoise. One of the pictures was of my tortoise next to Bass at Maura's house. Yes, these were definitely very recent pictures. My tortoise hadn't been to Maura's house since Maura had given it to me, and now Maura was taking care of it. Somebody went out of their way to take these picture for the sole purpose of giving them to me.

There was a picture of Frost and one of Korsak, taken in the bullpen. Their desks were piled high with files and random papers. Korsak had empty coffee cups all over his desk. Frost still had his Chogokin doll, though it looked a little lost in the sea of paperwork scattered all over. Both of them looked positively haggard. In the corner of one of the photos I could see my old desk. The computer was gone, and it looked completely unused. I wonder if they'd tossed out my badge. I wouldn't blame them if they did. I regretted leaving it behind. I had wanted to forget the BPD when I left, but now all I wanted to do was remember the good times there, when I had been truly happy and healthy.

There was a picture of Cavanaugh in the cafe, holding a cup of coffee. He had his usual serious expression on in the photo. Just off to the side I could see a woman behind the counter. She must have been who replaced my mother. I felt terrible that she lost her job because of me.

There were another couple of pictures of TJ, some more recent than others. One of the pictures had Lydia holding him. She looked surprisingly responsible in that photo. In the three years since TJ was born, she had gotten a little less flighty about things, but she was still a ditz that photographed well. At least she made TJ a priority, and she and Tommy were doing well trying to raise him responsibly. There had been so much potential for so much to go wrong with that situation at first.

Slowly I made my way to the last two photos in the pile. The second to last photo was an old shot of Maura and me. Someone had snapped it at the Dirty Robber. We were oblivious to the picture taker, and we were looking at each other and grinning like we knew a juicy secret. We looked ridiculously happy. I felt my breath catch in my throat when I saw it. I wondered who had snapped that picture, and what they must have thought of us when they saw how it turned out. We clearly looked like two people deeply in love. Maybe it was just my skewed take on things, but Maura looked as happy with me in that photo as she ever had with William. Maybe she did have feelings for me at one point. Maybe I had just waited too long to let her know I had feelings for her, too. I genuinely hoped that William was making Maura as happy as she was in that photo every single day. Maura didn't deserve anything less.

The last photo was a picture of Maura in her kitchen, holding Jo Friday up for the camera. It too was a very recent photo. The calendar on the wall behind her was from the current month. Maura looked absolutely haunted. The smile she made for the camera looked forced, and it didn't reach her eyes at all. If I didn't know her so well, I would have thought the Maura in that photo was a completely different person from the Maura in the photo before it.

Maybe she didn't like the idea of being part of this photo project for me.

I couldn't blame her if she did. I hadn't exactly done right by her before I left.

I wondered if that was the only reason she looked so sad. The more I looked at her in that picture, the more I wanted to just hug her. I missed hugging Maura. I missed holding her. I missed falling asleep to her breathing. I missed her sweet touches and the tiny sighs she let out when she dozed off next to me on the couch. I missed Maura so much, and I would have given anything to go back to the way we had been before William.

Looking at that photo was making me feel like there was a giant hole in my chest. I almost couldn't breathe. I was desperate to know why she looked so sad in that photo. What had happened to her?

I didn't realize I was crying until a tear fell off my cheek and onto the paper, near the bottom. It quickly diluted the printer ink where it fell. I wiped my eyes quickly and put the photo down on the nightstand. I didn't want to ruin it, even if I didn't know if I could ever look at it again.

"How's it going, Ms. Rizzoli?" the night nurse asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway to my room and startling me. "Are you all right?" She'd noticed I was crying.

"Yeah, I'm okay." My voice gave me away.

"Do you want me to call someone to come sit with you? Your mother maybe?"

"Nah, it's alright. I'm just having a pity party for myself, but the party's over now. I will take that sedative Sara mentioned earlier when you have a chance, please."

"Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes with it. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Thanks, I'm sure."

While the nurse was gone I stacked up the photos once more and placed them on the table next to my bed. When I came back from the hospital in a few days, I'd ask for some tape to put them up on the wall. Maybe I would just put up the photos of Jo Friday and the tortoise for now, since they didn't seem to evoke so many emotions. Or maybe I would put up the photos of my brothers and my mother. Not the ones of Maura though. Especially not the one of her looking so sad, but forcing a smile.

"I'll give you this intravenously, so it will work pretty quickly," the nurse said when she came back, interrupting my thoughts. "Hopefully you'll have a better night tonight than you had last night. Tomorrow morning they'll wake you and put you on the ambulette to Mass Gen. You'll have your pre-operative testing there and then Wednesday morning they'll do the surgery if the testing comes back clear. After a few hours in recovery on Wednesday you'll head back here, to this room. Your clothes and your belongings will be safe."

I hadn't even thought of that. Not that I had much there anyway, and nothing worth stealing for that matter. I didn't think anyone would want my too-big yoga pants or my pile of printed photos. The most valuable thing in the room was probably the magazines that had gone to Maura's house before she gave them to my mother for me to read.

"Thanks," I said, looking around and taking a mental inventory.

"Try to relax, and have a good night," the nurse said.

"Thanks," I said once more, and watched the nurse push the plunger on the needle into the port on the IV. She then hung a new bag of fluids on the IV pole and hooked it up to me.

It took less than a minute for the drugs to make their way through my system. I felt relaxed and peaceful for the first time in weeks. My legs and pelvis didn't hurt, and sleep seemed to be just out of my grasp for the moment. Instead of lying weakly on a hospital bed, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I almost felt like my normal self again. I almost felt like I could get up from that bed and walk out of that rehab on my own, never to look back. It was a wonderful feeling.

As the nurse walked out of the room, I heard her start to speak, but it didn't sound like she was speaking to me. I was too confused and too ambivalent from the sedative to really care who she was talking to, but I tried to listen.

"Are you here to see Ms. Rizzoli?" the nurse asked the visitor.

I didn't hear the response, but the nurse then said, "I've just given her a sedative, I'm afraid she may already be asleep for the night. You're welcome to sit with her though, if you'd like."

I started dropping off then, the sedative too powerful to overcome my curiosity of who could possibly be there to see me. I let myself fall into oblivion, and my brain just stopped all thoughts. It was then, when I was at my most relaxed, that I started to dream.

I was still in rehab, tucked comfortably into my bed when Maura got there. She walked up next to the bed and smiled sheepishly down at me, looking me over. I was surrounded by her perfume. She ran a hand slowly down the side of my face, and kissed my forehead, letting her lips linger on my skin. Somehow I knew she was feeling for the warmth there. She stepped back a bit to look at me, running her fingers gently over the bandage on my neck and down my arm to where the IV had been inserted. She tucked the sheet around me, making sure I was covered and warm.

She seemed to be reassuring herself that I was there, that I was alive.

I looked up at her.

"Hey," she whispered. She was quiet, gentle, tentative. Neither one of us really knew what to say, it seemed, but we weren't uncomfortable at all. If anything, we both seemed to be barely able to suppress our happiness at seeing one another.

"Hey," I whispered back. "I miss you."

She smiled at me- a warm, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "I've missed you too. I wanted to come see you before this, but work has kept me from getting here, and... I was afraid. I didn't know what to say to you. There's so much I have to tell you, and so much we need to talk about, but not tonight. You need to sleep. I- I just wanted to make sure I got to see you before your surgery tomorrow. I wanted to make sure you were being taken care of."

"You're so sweet, Maura. I love you so much."

Tears pooled in Maura's eyes, and started to spill over before she replied to me. "I love you too, Jane."

She leaned over and kissed my forehead once more before she sat down on the chair next to the bed and took my hand in hers. I could feel her rubbing her thumb over the back of my hand, where my scar was.

"Sleep, beautiful girl." She whispered to me.

I don't remember the rest of the dream. Maybe it ended there, or maybe I was just too drugged to recall the rest of it. It was so vivid though, that when I woke up the next morning, I could have sworn that I smelled Maura's perfume.