Chapter 42

Outside Jane Rizzoli's I.C.U. Room – Wednesday at 3:34 p.m.

God damn traffic! Even with my siren, it still took me twice as long to get to the hospital as it should have. I approach Jane's room and ask Mr. Grant, "How is she?"

"We haven't been updated on her condition, detective. But you should go in; the doctor arrived a few minutes ago," Mr. Grant reports.

I softly knock and go inside her room. When Maura sees me, she announces, "Dr. Heather Grace, this is Detective Frank Rizzoli, Jane's brother."

The doctor extends her hand and smiles, "Pleasure."

I shake her hand and reply, "Nice to meet you. Now, how is she?"

"As I was explaining to Dr. Isles, her blood panel shows she has a nasty staph infection, but it's not antibiotic-resistant. So we have to stay the course and be patient. It's going to take a few days to get rid of it, but I still expect for your sister to make a full recovery," Dr. Grace explains.

I look at Maura for confirmation, and when she nods, I feel a huge sense of relief. I closely look at Jane and frown because she doesn't look good at all. I say to Dr. Grace, "But she's still burning up?"

"It's her body's way to kill the infection. We need to give the antibiotics time to work, detective. She's getting the highest dose of Ibuprofen to help break her fever, and Dr. Isles is applying the ice packs. There's nothing more we can do other than to keep a close eye on her and continue with her treatment," Dr. Grace says.

"Frankie, she's right. We need to give the antibiotics time to work," Maura reassures me.

I nod, but I'm still not happy. Jane doesn't look good at all, and until she's back to giving me hell, I'm not going to be satisfied.

Dr. Grace turns back to Maura and says, "I'm on call for the next 72 hours. If her fever gets any higher, have the nurse page me immediately. I'll come back and check on her later."

Maura nods and answers, "Thank you, Dr. Grace."

"My pleasure, I'll see you soon," Dr. Grace smiles.

When she turns to leave, she smiles, "Nice meeting you, detective."

"Likewise," Is all I say and then turn my attention to Jane and Maura. When the door closes, I ask, "Maura, I need you to be blunt with me. How bad is this?"

Maura rubs her hands over her face and answers, "Well, it's not good. The staph infection is a serious one, but it's not antibiotic-resistant. So Dr. Grace is right. We need to be patient and give the antibiotics time to work and continue to try to lower her fever."

"How high is it?"

"Frankie," Maura begins, but I interrupt with, "I want to know, Maura. How high?"

"104. It's gone up," Maura softly answers. The worry and fear are etched in Maura's features. That's how I know that Jane is in pretty bad shape.

"Shit," Is all I say as I rub my face with both my hands. Jane's burning up. This is all fucking Paddy Doyle's fault. I want to hit something or, better yet, someone to get some of my anger and frustration out.

"Frankie, help me lower her fever. I'm out of ice packs. Go tell the nurse that we need more and help me apply them," Maura softly orders.

I'm not stupid. Maura's trying to give me something to do. A task that will help calm me down makes me feel like I'm helping Janie. I got to give it to her; she knows how to handle my family. A small smile tugs at my lips as I say, "You really know how to handle Rizzoli's, don't you?"

Maura shrugs and smiles, "I've had years of practice."

Before either of us can say another word, I hear shouting outside Jane's room. And I recognize a voice. Son of bitch is back. I storm out. I think I'm going to get to release some of my anger and frustration.

R&I

I don't have time to deal with this ass. I have many more important things to do, like lower Jane's fever. So I follow Frankie out, and once the door is closed, I join the melee. Mr. Armstrong and Frankie are yelling for Dean to leave, and of course, he's refusing.

I join the shouting when I yell, "Leave now or kiss your job goodbye, Dean! This is your last warning!"

"I'm not leaving until I see Jane, and I'm not fucking scared of you, Maura!" Dean shouts back.

"I don't have time for this!" I shout back. I've had enough. I turn to Mr. Grant and order, "Get him out of here by any means necessary, Mr. Grant."

"With pleasure," Mr. Grant says. He orders Ms. Martin to block the door. I look at Ms. Martin, and I see she has her hand on her gun, but so does Mr. Grant. This can get worse, a lot worse. Then Mr. Grant orders Mr. Armstrong, "Armstrong, teach him the meaning of the word no."

Mr. Armstrong's response is to punch him hard enough to spin him around, and then Frankie gets involved when he punches Dean in the stomach. Frankie then shoves him back to Mr. Armstrong, who also punches him in the stomach. Next, Dean takes a swing at Frankie, but he easily blocks it and punches him in the face. Frankie and Mr. Armstrong then take turns until Dean is kneeling on the floor, clutching his stomach and spitting out blood. It's a miracle he didn't lose his lunch.

I hate this, but maybe violence is the only thing Dean understands. Because words haven't gotten us anywhere, I hope Dean finally leaves us alone.

Frankie grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him to his feet, and growls, "I told you we were going to break your face if you didn't leave them alone, didn't I? So now, I'm going to shove you into an elevator, and you're going to leave and never bother Jane and Maura again. Because if you continue, next time, we're not going to use our fists. We're going to use our guns. Do you fucking understand?"

Dean doesn't say the word and only groans in obvious pain. That doesn't satisfy Frankie because he slaps his face hard and repeats, "Do you fucking understand?"

All Dean says is, "Yes."

Only then do Mr. Armstrong and Frankie drag him down the hall. And unfortunately, that's when hospital security shows up. To my great relief, Frankie flashes his badge and smooths things over. How he did it, I don't know, but I'm relieved. The last thing I need is for our shadows to be banned from the hospital.

When it's over, I go back inside the room, and to my shock, Jane is wide awake. I quickly go to her bedside, and as I grab her hand, I ask, "I'm so sorry we woke you. How do you feel, sweetheart?"

"The same. What happened outside, Maura?"

Since I can't lie, I answer, "Dean showed up again."

"And?"

"Mr. Armstrong and Frankie taught him the meaning of the word no," I explain.

"They broke Dean's face, didn't they?"

"Yes."

"Are either of them going to get arrested?" Jane asks.

"I don't think so. Dean left peacefully and didn't make any threats," I nervously answered. God, I hope they don't get arrested. I need them here to protect Jane. I should call Mother and tell her to be ready to post bail for either man and keep our lawyers on call.

"Do you think Dean finally got the point?"

"I really hope so, love," I answer honestly.

"How am I doing?"

"Your fever hasn't broken yet, sweetheart. Frankie is getting you more ice packs," I explain.

"What did the doctor say?"

"That you have a serious staph infection but that it's not antibiotic-resistant. So, Dr. Grace expects you to make a full recovery. But it's going to take a few days to get the infection under control," I explain as I rub her knuckles with my thumb.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," I immediately answer.

I can feel Jane's eyes on me, and after a minute, she says, "Baby, you look like hell. When was the last time you slept 8 hours? Showered? Eaten?"

This sounds like my Jane again. I kiss her forehead, and she feels a little less hot. I smile, "Love, I'm fine. When you go home, I'll make up the sleep I've missed. Frankie and Mother bring me my meals, and I go home to shower and change when you go down for the night. And I come right back."

"Hives, Maura, hives. You explained to me that sleep doesn't work that way. You need eight hours every day, baby," Jane softly smiles.

My smile gets bigger; she really does listen to me. I kiss the back of her hand and then say, "You're right, but right now, you're my priority. I've tried sleeping at home and I couldn't. I can't sleep without you anymore. I need to keep an eye on you. The only good sleep I've gotten is the four hours I slept with you, and when I woke up, you were burning up. That can't happen again."

She squeezes my hand and whimpers, "You can't go without sleep Maura."

Damn, she's beginning to fade. She needs to rest, so I softly answered, "I know that. I promise I'll try to get more rest. But right now, sleep, love. We'll talk when you wake up again, okay."

"Mmm, baby, thank you for taking care of me," Jane murmurs as her eyes begin to close.

"I'll always take good care of you, love. I love you so much, Jane," I whisper back.

"Love you more." Are Jane's last words before sleep overtake her. I kiss her cheek and wait for Frankie to come back.

Boston Medical Center E.R. – Wednesday at 6:15 p.m.

"Agent Dean, you didn't fall a flight of stairs. Somebody beat you. Please tell the officer what happened," The E.R. doctor pleads again.

As I hold the ice pack on my face, I mumble, "I fell a flight of stairs. End of discussion."

The officer and the doctor look at each other, and the officer says, "If he doesn't cooperate, there's nothing I can do."

The doctor nods, and the officer leaves. He then turns to me and says, "You have three broken ribs, two cracked teeth, and a hairline fracture to your jaw. And, of course, your face is a huge bruise. You're lucky they didn't break your cheekbone or your jaw."

"So I'm going to live?"

"Yes, but you're not going to leave. We're admitting you for observation. You're going to need IV pain medication for the next few days to treat your injuries," The doctor explains.

I roll my eyes and ask, "How long do I have to stay here? And how long is it going to take for my ribs to heal?"

"Three to five days and your ribs are going to take 6 to 8 weeks," The doctor explains.

"Fuck," Is all I say.

The doctor ignores my language and says, "Rest for now. Someone will come to get you when they have a room ready for you upstairs."

And with that, he walks out.

I try to look at things on the bright side. I have six weeks to plan my revenge.

B.P.D. Homicide Bullpen – Thursday at 11:30 a.m.

I get a text from Korsak, and it reads:

In the conference room, now.

Well, shit. I'm either going to get good news, or I'm about to get suspended, fired, and/or possibly arrested. Either way, I don't regret it. Fucking Dean had it coming, and I'm going to take the blame. I need Armstrong to continue to protect Janie. I might get locked up for a few months, or maybe I can get bailed out, but Jane's life is on the line. She needs Armstrong.

When I walk in, I know I'm in trouble. Korsak isn't alone, Cavanaugh is with him, and he looks pissed.

As soon as I close the door, Cavanaugh roars, "I should fire you, Rizzoli!"

I stand at attention and only say, "Yes, sir."

"What were you thinking? Assaulting a fucken federal agent will get you locked up for years, Rizzoli. What do you have to say for yourself?" Cavanaugh continues to yell.

I look straight ahead and only ask, "Am I under arrest, sir?"

"That's all you have to say for yourself?" Cavanaugh says as he shakes his head.

"Yes, sir."

"He's just like his sister," Cavanaugh says.

Now, I wait to hear my fate. They make me sweat for a couple of minutes, and then Korsak finally says, "Dean checked himself into Boston Medical Center last night. You idiots did major damage. He has three broken ribs, two cracked teeth, a hairline fracture to the jaw, and a bruise of a face."

I can't help the smirk that appears on my face. Both Cavanaugh and Korsak shake their head, but I couldn't help it. We gave fucking Dean enough chances. It's not my fault he didn't take us seriously. Dean kept going to the hospital and upsetting Maura and Jane. And Jane is in no condition to deal with that fucking idiot. She needs peace and quiet so that she can recover.

I can't take it anymore, so I ask again, "Am I under arrest or fired or both?"

Cavanaugh says one word, "Neither."

That got my attention. I finally face Cavanaugh, and the only thing I say, "How is that possible?"

"You got lucky, Frankie. Dean refused to file a police report, and all he'd say at the E.R. is that he fell down a flight of stairs," Korsak explains.

Now, I can't help but smile. I can't believe it. The bastard didn't try to have us arrested or try to get me fired.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Rizzoli. Since Dean didn't report you, I can't suspend or fire you. But God help you if you do anything like this again because if it happens, I'm going to fire you and probably arrest you, too. Do you understand?" Cavanaugh threatens.

"Yes, sir," And with that, Cavanaugh storms out.

When we're finally alone, Korsak smirks, "So how did it feel to lay into that bastard?"

"Pretty damn good," I say as I sit down. I'm still trying to process what just happened. I still have my job, and I didn't get into any trouble.

Korsak sits next to me and says, "Just because fucken Dean didn't try to get you and Armstrong arrested or you fired doesn't mean this is over."

"Korsak, if after the beating we gave him, he still tries to pursue Jane, then he deserves what he has coming," I answer honestly. What he needs to do is go back to D.C. and forget about Jane.

"And what does he have coming, Frankie?"

I stare at Korsak and say, "What do you think he has coming, Korsak?"

He shakes his head again and says, "Frankie, I don't want to arrest you for murder."

I defensively say, "I'm not a murderer, Korsak. But I will protect mine and use any force necessary to accomplish that goal."

He squeezes my shoulder and says, "I know that, Frankie. Let's pray that Dean disappears so that we only have to worry about the Apprentices'."

I smile and say, "Come on, Korsak, it's time for us to deliver Maura's lunch. Let's go see how Janie is doing."

Korsak smiles, and we head out.

Jane Rizzoli's I.C.U. Room – Thursday at 7 p.m.

Maura is wasting away, and this can't continue. Jane is still running a fever, and my daughter still refuses to go home and sleep. She's only gone home to shower and then comes right back. She is eating, but she can't continue to function without sleep. I pull Dr. Lewis aside to plead, "Can you prescribe a sleeping pill for Maura? She needs to sleep. Maura can't continue this way."

"I don't have a license to practice medicine in Massachusetts, but Mr. Grant can get anything I ask for, but the problem is Dr. Isles. There's no point in getting her the medication if she's not going to take it," Dr. Lewis says.

I have a terrible headache. Maura can be so damn stubborn. If she goes down, it will only upset Jane terribly, and things will only go downhill from there. I bite my lip and ask, "Maura's mentioned she's only gotten 4 hours of good sleep since arriving here. And that only happened when she slept with Jane in the bed. Any chance we can restrict entry to the room for 6 to 8 hours. She needs to sleep, Dr. Lewis."

"That's impossible, Mrs. Isles. This is the I.C.U. The nurse needs to be checking on Jane constantly. If she catches Dr. Isles with the detective, she's going to get kicked out of here," Dr. Lewis warns.

"What do we do then?" I ask in desperation.

Dr. Lewis gives it some thought and says, "Maybe we can trick Dr. Isles subconscious into thinking that she's sleeping in the detective's arms."

"How in the world do we do that?"

"To begin with, I'll have Mr. Grant get me a forehead thermometer. Dr. Isles is obsessed with lowering the detective's fever. I can keep a close eye on the detective's fever and not disturb either of their sleep, and I'll continue with the ice packs. Since I'm a doctor, it might convince her to let me take care of the detective while she sleeps. And I'll promise that if anything happens, I'll wake her," Dr. Lewis explains.

"Okay, but how do we get her to sleep for at least six hours a night?" I ask.

"When I call Mr. Grant, I'll also give him instructions to bring me a few things from their home. The detective's pillow, a sweatshirt that the detective has worn, and one of their blankets. Our scent is one of our strongest senses. So if we give Dr. Isles the detective's pillow and her worn sweatshirt, it might trick her mind into thinking that she's sleeping in the detective's arms. And then she'll finally sleep. She's exhausted, so we should see results quickly if this works," Dr. Lewis says.

I'm skeptical, but I'm also desperate. So, I say, "Call Aldrich and get the ball rolling while I talk Maura into letting you take care of Jane at night while she sleeps."

"Mrs. Isles, this is our last resort. It's not like we can sedate her every single night. If we can't get her to get meaningful rest soon, she's going to collapse from exhaustion," Dr. Lewis warns.

"I understand. Call Aldrich while I speak to my daughter," I order. I then take a deep, cleansing breath and join Maura in Jane's room. I can be stubborn as she can, and I'm not leaving until I can at least convince her to try to sleep in that recliner tonight. And even then, I'm going to stay and see if Dr. Lewis's experiment works.

And if it does, I'm going to give her a huge bonus.

Tommy Rizzoli's House – Thursday at 8:15 p.m.

"Tommy, Janie is worse. The word is that she's running a high fever and has a serious infection," Angela Rizzoli explains to her son.

"What do you want to do, Ma? Neither one of us is welcomed there, and if we go down there, all we're going to do is upset Jane," Tommy Rizzoli tries to reason with his mother.

"I want to see my daughter. That's what I want," Angela says as she begins to pace.

"You can't force yourself on Jane. She's a grown woman, and she doesn't want to see you," Tommy explains.

"So, you're on their side now?" Angela says as she stops pacing. Now she's glaring at her youngest son.

"I don't agree with Jane being with Maura. But it's her life, Ma. She has the right to live her life any way she damn well pleases, as do we. Janie right now is incredibly ill; she doesn't need you to go in there and cause problems. The best thing we can do for her is to leave her alone so that she can heal. And then you can try to see her when she's out of the hospital," Tommy pleads. He doesn't want to aggravate his sister in her present condition. Although he doesn't agree with Jane's lifestyle choice, it doesn't mean that he doesn't still love her or wishes her ill will.

"I'm her mother, and I should be with her right now," Angela passionately argues.

"We're grown adults, Ma, and I'm sorry, but we don't need our Mommy anymore," Tommy angrily replies. His patience is running out.

"How could you say that, Tommy?" Angela sadly answers.

Tommy approaches her and takes her hands as he pleads, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm trying to stop you from getting thrown in jail because Frankie and Maura are running out of patience, Ma. And I'm positive that if you continue to try to force yourself on Jane, that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Frankie wouldn't dare," Angela boasts.

That's when Tommy Rizzoli finally gives up. It's obvious to him that his mother is going to have to learn things the hard way. He simply walks away and joins his son in his room.

Jane Rizzoli's I.C.U. Room – Friday at 12:45 a.m.

I can't believe it worked. We coxed Maura into her P.J.'s and settled her into the recliner at 9 p.m. As soon as we handed her Jane's pillow, she smiled and hugged it tightly. I covered her with the blanket, kissed her head, and she was asleep in minutes. I still can't believe it. They're both sound asleep, and Jane looks a lot better. And more importantly, her fever is down again. I've been watching them sleep since.

I motion for Dr. Lewis to follow me outside. Once there, I say, "I don't know how to thank you. I can't believe it worked. Maura is sound asleep."

Dr. Lewis smiles, "I'm happy to help, Mrs. Isles. The detective looks so much better, and I'm also relieved that Dr. Isles is finally getting rest."

I motion for Mr. Sanders and Ms. Harvey to join us. I turn to them and order, "They're both sound asleep, and I don't want them disturbed for any reason. When the doctor arrives, explain that Maura is finally asleep and she's to examine Jane and only wake Maura if there's a problem. And I want one of you stationed in the waiting room that's in front of the elevator. If Angela Rizzoli arrives, you are to stop her from even coming inside of the I.C.U. I don't care how you do it, but I don't want her to come anywhere near them."

All three say, "Yes, ma'am."

I also order Dr. Lewis, "Dr. Lewis, if my daughter is still sound asleep when your shift ends, I want you to instruct one of our people how to take care of Jane so that they can take your place. If her temperature increases, they are to let the nurse know immediately, but if everything is okay, then they are to let my daughter sleep. Let her wake up on her own. Is that understood?"

"Of course," Dr. Lewis says.

And before I go, I give one last order, "Tell Mr. Grant about my instructions regarding Angela Rizzoli."

All three nod and I'm finally done with the day.

I thank Dr. Lewis again and finally leave. I need sleep too. At least I'll sleep a little better. They're both finally resting, and more importantly, Jane's fever finally broke. Things are finally looking up.

R&I

Mrs. Isles left us thirty minutes ago, and I'm nervous. I called the detective's brother as soon as she left, and he said he would send us a couple of officers. If Angela Rizzoli shows up, I want officers here that can arrest her. I'll be damned if she disturbs Dr. Isles or the detective. I just wish they would hurry, and I'm praying that Mrs. Rizzoli doesn't show up in the first place. I don't need any more problems.

Like Sanders.

I have to stand guard at the elevator because I can recognize Mrs. Rizzoli, but I can't help looking down the halfway to make sure Sanders is where I left him. It's his fault the detective is here in the first place. None of this would have never happened if he had done his fucking job. When I found out that the detective gave him the slip, I wanted to shoot him. Or at least break something. When it comes to it, this is my fault. It was me who recommended that idiot. But to his credit, he's made no excuses and is doing his job like he's supposed to.

The elevator ringing brings me back to the present. As the doors open, I know I'm in for a fight. I block the doors to the I.C.U. and say, "You have no business here. Leave, or I'll have you arrested."

"Who do you think you are?" Mrs. Rizzoli replies.

"I'm their bodyguard, and I have my orders," I explain.

"You have no right to keep me from my daughter," Mrs. Rizzoli says.

"Detective Rizzoli has made it clear that she doesn't want you anywhere near her. You can't force yourself on her. She's a grown woman and has made it clear that she doesn't want anything to do with her," I calmly explain.

"Janie doesn't know what's good for her," Mrs. Rizzoli says as she tries to get past me. I gently push her back and warn, "I'll hurt you if you leave me no other choice."

"Let me through!" Mrs. Rizzoli yells as she tries to get through me again. I push her back harder this time and repeat, "I don't want to hurt you. This is your last warning."

I can't believe she's taking a swing at me. I easily dodge it and twist her arm behind her back, and push her against the door. She's screaming bloody murder, so I slam her hard against the door and whisper in her ear, "Stop your hysterics before I give you a real reason to scream. Your son has sent two officers. If you're still here when they arrive, I'll have you arrested for stalking and harassment. Last chance, Mrs. Rizzoli."

Mrs. Rizzoli laughs and says, "Nobody will arrest me for stalking. Jane is my daughter, for God's sake."

"You know what? Let's test that theory," I reply as the elevator rings. It better be who I think it is, and to my relief, it is. I pull her from the wall, and as I push her to the officers, I order, "Arrest her for harassment and stalking."

"You can't arrest me!" Angela yells as they slap the cuffs on her.

"Detective Rizzoli doesn't want to see you, and you don't seem to understand that. Maybe a few nights in jail will make you understand that Detective Rizzoli wants you to leave her alone," The older officer explains.

I smile as they take a very agitated Angela Rizzoli away. Great, one stalker got his face broken, and the other got locked up. I'd say that's progress.

B.P.D. Booking – Friday at 3 a.m.

I can't believe I got arrested. I quickly dial Tommy and wait impatiently for him to pick up his phone.

As soon as I hear him groggily answer, "Hello."

I immediately order, "Tommy, you got to bail me out.

"What? What happened?" Tommy asks. He's clearly still half asleep.

"I went to see Jane," I answer.

"Damn it, I told you this was going to happen, Ma," Tommy answers angrily.

"Focus, Tommy, focus, I need you to bail me out," I insist.

"With what?"

"Pawn something like T.J.'s Xbox," I say.

"No."

"What do you mean no?" I ask in complete surprise.

"I'm not pawning any of my son's belongings. I warned you this was going to happen. Maybe a night in jail will make you understand that your children are grown adults and have the right to do as they wish," Tommy angrily explains.

"Tommy, bail me out! You can't leave me in here!" I yell into the phone, but there's nobody there. He hung on me.

Option number two: Frankie.

I dial his number and wait. He sleepily answers, "Hello."

"Frankie, I got arrested. Call the Precinct and tell them to let me go," I order.

"Ma?"

"Focus, Frankie, call the Precinct and tell them to release me," I order again.

"Who do you think I am? I can't call the Precinct and order them to release you just because I said so. You went to the hospital again, didn't you?" Frankie angrily replies.

"I had to, Frankie. Jane is getting worse. She needs me," I argue.

"No, she doesn't need you. Jane needs Maura and a lot of rest."

"She needs me! Frankie, get me out of here!"

"No!"

And again, the phone goes dead.

I'm on my own.

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this one. I didn't want to leave you hanging, but I don't only have any more chapters ready to post. This is the last one, but I have two written but are not beta approved.

I'll be back as soon as possible.