A/N: I have a few days off and am hoping to get this story all finished and posted. Strap yourselves in ladies and gents, we're in for a bumpy ride.
[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the Rizzoli and Isles franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 22nd September, 2015, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]
TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT
Maura doesn't know how long it takes the ambulance to arrive, but she is sure it is longer than the dispatcher said. In the meantime, Maura tries to stabilise her friend, running inside to grab towels, clothes and other pieces of fabric, anything she could use to stem the bleeding. Somehow, against all reason, she manages to remain clinical. At least until the paramedics arrive.
Once Jane is scooped up off her doorstep, and they are both in the back of the ambulance, there is nothing that can stop the tears from falling. She sits up by Jane's head, cradling it in her blood-stained hands, tears dropping into her lap as she sobs.
Jane's face is covered in sweat, dirt and blood. What is left of her clothing has been cut away, exposing her body to the cool air inside the ambulance. In the harsh lighting of the rig Maura can see just how badly her friend is injured. Cuts and scrapes mar her flesh, some deliberately put there by something sharp, others the result of her struggling. Blood covers her torso, some of it dried, other parts drying. For now, the bleeding has seemed to stop. Jane's breathing is shallow; rasping. The final injury, the one Maura is avoiding looking at, is on her thighs. Bruises that look conspicuously like hand prints, don her olive skin.
It is the monitors that alert Maura to Jane's distress. So busy cataloguing her friends many lumps and bumps, she does not notice when Jane's eyes begin to flutter open; does not notice her dilated pupils or her reaction to the male paramedic next to her. It is only when the monitors begin beeping furiously, and Jane begins to struggle, that Maura realises that she is awake.
…
White noise. That's all she can hear. White noise and darkness. And pain. Visceral, throbbing pain. It won't go away. She tries, and fails, to move. Even just an inch. A finger perhaps. But nothing gives way.
Eventually she manages to pry open an eyelid, then another, but both are covered by a haze; a thin film that distorts her vision and lets in too much light.
She clamps her eyes shut again.
The next time she opens them, she manages to get them wider, and this time the haze has lessoned. She can make out shapes; one shape to be specific. The shape of a man. Of the man. The man that caused this pain.
Panic bubbles in her chest, and she realises that she needs to get away. She needs to sit up. She needs to run.
Her first movement is slow, almost languid. The next displays much more force, jolting the body next to her.
A voice coos her name. It makes her stomach turn.
A hand reaches for her shoulder; startles her. She tries to move; tries to jump to her feet, but something is trapping her, holding her down.
And that's when she realises – she is strapped down.
The realisation strikes fear into her very core, and she can feel her heart rate pick up dramatically. She begins trashing, or what might have been intended as trashing but ends up being just jerky movements, her injured body too weak to put up too much of a fight.
There are voices surrounding her, hands touching her, and she doesn't know which way is up.
All she knows is that suddenly a burning liquid is filling her veins, and the haze returns with a vengeance.
As the paramedic injected the last of the sedative into Jane's IV, the darkness pulled her under.
…
It is the most agonising minute of her life, as she sees Jane panic and struggle against the straps securing her safely to the gurney. She sees the absolute terror in her eyes as she rips her eyes from the male paramedic. And she sees the fight leave Jane as the sedative kicks in.
By the time the doctors at the hospital force her into the waiting room, she is a sobbing, uncontrollable mess. It takes everything she has to remain upright in her seat, with every fibre of her being wanting to curl up on themselves and combust.
And eventually, she does just that. When Angela and Frankie arrive, she allows herself to let go, the agonising terror ripping her to pieces.
…
An incessant, far-away beeping is the first thing that registers in her groggy mind. It won't let up; won't give her pounding head just a moment of peace.
The next thing that registers is a weight on her right arm, holding her down. For a moment she wonders if she is once again pinned down, but a quick peak from under her heavy lids reveals a mess of blonde waves, hair she immediately recognises as Maura's. She moves her left arm, intent on touching those soft curls, to reassure herself that Maura was really there, only to recoil with a sharp intake of breath.
'Son of a bitch," she hisses, pain pulling at her senses.
The head on her arm raises, just an inch, and turns to check its surroundings, then tilts to look at her face.
Surprise and relief wash over those tired features, and Jane notices for the first time that Maura is wearing hospital scrubs.
"Jane," Maura breathes, and tears threaten to spill from her eyes. "You're awake."
A/N: That's it for now – stay tuned for another chapter. Please R&R.