DISCLAIMER:: don't own. just borrowing.

A/N:: thank you to everyone for the well wishes. they went a long way since it seems i am in the clear. yay, no more surgery! i'm not fond of hospitals (who is really?) but i have spent a great deal of time in them and this chapter is bred from that. in fact the "bed" in the waiting room is a legitimate creation of myself at twenty one in the waiting room of UC Davis hospital. it's actually quite comfortable... sorry, tangent. enjoy and review as always.

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"I want you off this case Rizzoli! This is hitting way too close to what happened two years ago."

Rizzoli just rolled her eyes at Cavanaugh. Obviously he didn't know her very well if he thought she'd stay away from this case.

"I mean it Rizzoli. Back off!"

"Yeah, sure." She hung up before he could reply and massaged her temples.

She'd been waiting for hours now. Both Summer Raley and their shooter were still in surgery. It was nearing midnight and the hospital was dead, visiting hours long over. She paced the surgical waiting room, unable to keep the scene from running through her mind. Yet again someone had taken a bullet meant for her. This time it had been unintentionally which made it that much worse. If Summer Raley didn't make it, it would be on her. That bullet had been meant for her.

The shooter was a man by the name of Alexander Munch. He was a regular blue collar guy who owned a small but successful restaurant in Brookline. She and Maura had been to it a few times when Maura still owned a house there. The second the doctors found his identification while cutting off his clothes, Rizzoli had assigned Frost the task of finding out everything they could on this man. He had a wife and four kids, two of each. He was forty two years old, a Colorado native. He had not even the slightest hint of a criminal record, in either Boston- where he had moved to at age twenty six as a newlywed- or in Colorado. He seemed to be a truly stand up guy.

But he had tried to kill her. That wasn't exactly the kind of thing a stand up guy would do.

Jane paced the length of the waiting room. It was huge, able to accommodate at least a hundred waiting family and friends of the individuals having surgery over the course of a given day. But now, at this hour of the night, there were only three people inhabiting its vast expanse. Herself, Maura, and a young girl no more than nineteen or twenty. She stopped pacing and looked towards the medical examiner. Maura was watching the girl with sad eyes. The girl had curled herself up in the far corner of the room. She was laying her torso across one of the chairs and had pushed two end tables together to hold her long legs, making her body into a sideways ninety degree angle. She had overturned an empty trash can and put her sweater on top of it to act as a pillow and fallen right to sleep. She looked comfortable and it struck Jane that this girl had spent far too much time in waiting rooms just like this, maybe this same one. She knew the drill… that sometimes the wait can stretch from dawn til dusk. It saddened her to know that a girl that young already knew that life and she wondered who this girl was waiting here for.

The doors opened and she slid her gaze from the girl to the doctor coming in. Her muscles tensed in anticipation for his news, but he walked right past her and approached the sleeping girl. As if sensing his approach the girl woke, instantly alert, as if she hadn't even been sleeping, just merely resting her eyes; the light sleep another testament to a life lived in hospital waiting rooms.

Jane tried not to eavesdrop but the quietness of the room made it impossible not to hear. Now that she saw the girl sitting up there was something familiar about her that Jane couldn't quite place.

For a moment the doctor and the girl just stared at each other without saying anything. Then… "I'm sorry. We did everything we could. But her body was just too weak, too damaged from all the effort."

Jane watched as the girl nodded in sad acceptance. She looked as if she'd somehow known, seen it coming. Maybe she had, thought Jane, maybe it's been coming for years.

The doctor whispered a few more apologies and was gone. The girl sat staring after him as if he might suddenly turn around and tell her she was on candid camera, that it was some kind of hoax. Finally she grabbed for her sweater, tossing it over her arm and stood.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

The girl regarded Jane with eyes that held no emotion, just a chilling numbness. "Thank you."

"Was it one of your parents?"

"Spouse."

It was only then that Jane noticed the ring on the girl's left hand. But she was so young; she had so much life left. How could she face it alone?

"I'm so sorry."

The girl nodded, still with the cold indifference. Again Jane felt as if she recognized her from somewhere, but she just couldn't place it. "I knew. It was a long time coming."

Jane frowned. "Was he sick?"

"She. Yes, she was. Cancer."

"What was her name?" Jane didn't know why she couldn't just leave this poor girl to her grief, but she recognized her from somewhere, a memory on the fringe of her thoughts.

"Maura."

Jane realized who this girl was and her eyes instantly shot to where Maura was sitting. She was gone.

Jane startled awake from the dream, gasping for air.

"Jane!" A voice she barely registered shouted in alarm.

Hands were instantly touching her face. Maura crouched in front of her, coaching her to breathe deeply and relax. She tried over and over to obey the honey haired woman's commands and listen to the soothing tones of her voice, and after a near minute, her body finally complied.

She instantly recognized the waiting room and her gaze shot to the corner where the girl had been. It was empty. The entire room was empty with the exception of herself and Maura.

Maura glanced over her shoulder to follow Jane's gaze. "Jane, honey, what are you looking at? What's wrong?"

Jane finally focused on Maura. Beautiful, generous, sweet, intelligent Maura. And she felt herself overcome by a fear so deep it seeped down and took possession of her very core. A fear of loss.

"You have to go back to San Francisco."