Mistakes:

Maura was remembering.

Unfortunately, even the happy memories felt like a curse when she remembered that Jane might be taken away from her at any moment. Rolling forward like a silent movie, a series of images, all of Jane, swept through her in a great wave. Jane preparing coffee. Jane shoving Korsak. Jane wrinkling her nose at Maura's "dead fridge".

Jane playing with Jo Friday. Jane bantering with her over 'reddish stains'. Jane rubbing the scars on the back of her hands.

Jane naked. Jane making love to her... if it could even be called that.

Usually, the medical examiner treated mistakes scientifically. Errors could be corrected. It was a normal part of the experimental process. But this was one mistake that could not be fixed. Jane was irreplaceable. There was no way to change the past.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Robotically, she answered with a short, clipped "Dr. Isles."

"Maura, good, I got through to you," came Barry Frost's familiar voice. "How is Jane holding up?"

"Not much news so far," Maura said. "She's out of surgery, but she isn't receiving visitors yet. They've stopped some of the bleeding, but her organs are severely damaged." Maura was too depressed to take pride in her succinct answer. Normally, giving such unspecific descriptions was hard for her.

"Well, I have some good news for you," Frost said. "I'm on my way to the hospital, but the crime scene released Bass, so I took him back to your apartment."

Maura was so relieved that she did not even mind the intrusion into her personal space. "The number for his veterinarian is on –"

"The refrigerator, I saw it. I'm sorry about taking him home without asking first, but I knew you were busy at the hospital, and under the circumstances..."

The medical examiner sighed. "It's fine, Barry. Thank you... is he all right?"

"He's fine," the detective said, trying to reassure her. "He even stuck his head out of his shell for me. I'm no Korsak, but I figure that's a good sign."

That drew a brief smile from the distraught doctor. "Are you coming to the hospital later?" Maura asked. She had a feeling that the administrators were going to end visiting hours soon. As a doctor, she knew that Jane needed undisturbed rest. However, all of her instincts were urging her to stay. Even though she was not at Jane's side, waiting for her outside was the closest alternative.

"Yeah, I'm hoping –"

"Doctor Isles?" Maura's head snapped up and her fingers tightened reflexively around the body of her mobile phone.

"Excuse me, Barry," she said, "the doctor..."

"Text me what he says," Barry asked. "I'll let you go."

Hanging up without a goodbye, Maura ended the call and looked up at the older woman standing before her in a white coat. "Hello, Dr..." she searched for the woman's nameplate. "Dr. Astor. May I ask how you know my name?"

"The attending told me." Maura stood, taking the woman's offered hand. "Also, I've read one or two of your articles. I understand that you're here for Detective Rizzoli?"

"Jane, yes. Is she all right?"

"We have her in a controlled coma at the moment. We had to repair several ruptured organs, but fortunately we were able to flush out most of the toxins in her system before they were able to spread. She is out of surgery and going in to recovery. I wasn't her original surgeon, but I took over the operation once the emergency staff stabilized her. I am also responsible for her follow-up care from now on."

"Realistically, what are her chances?" Usually, Maura could handle statistics, but when they concerned Jane Rizzoli's life, numbers suddenly seemed a lot less safe.

"I can't say with any certainty. She lost a lot of blood and there is still the risk that she might develop an infection. What she needs is time." Despite all the advances in medicine over the centuries, time was still the body's greatest healer. But for Maura, it felt as though time was running out. "Would you like to see her?"

Maura nodded, and Doctor Astor led her through the stark white hallways, which smelled a little too strongly of disinfectant. Normally, hospitals and morgues did not bother the medical examiner, since she spent a large amount of time in them, but this was an entirely different situation. "Don't be alarmed when you see her," said Astor as she stopped in front of a partially open door. "Her parents were very upset, but they could only stay a few moments. They wanted to see their son as well before the hospital closed."

"Do they know I'm here?" Maura asked, wondering for the first time how Doctor Astor had known to find her in the waiting room.

"They do, and they're very grateful to you. Angela made it very clear that you are to be updated like a member of Jane's immediate family." Maura suspected that Angela was allowing her to see Jane and speak with her doctor out of gratitude for saving Frankie's life, but whatever the reason, she was extremely thankful.

A few moments later, Maura found herself alone in Jane's room, observing the heart monitors, the IV running into her arm, and the emergency breathing tube. As she identified each piece of equipment attached to Jane, the fact that her friend was alive still seemed foreign to her. The chair next to her was empty.

"Jane," she whispered, staring down at the unmoving face. Her features were unnaturally pale – 'from blood loss,' Maura suspected - and reminded her of a frozen marble statue. "Oh, Jane, I've made so many mistakes..."

Mistakes. Regrets. Jane was staring death in the face, and Maura was terrified that there might never be a chance to put things right.

Neglecting to tell Jane that she meant something, everything, was her greatest mistake. Even though Maura was not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, she prayed to whoever might be listening. The machines standing by Jane's bedside continued to beep and hum, but Maura did not hear them.

At first, she prayed that she would have the chance to apologize for her mistakes. 'No, that's selfish,' she decided. 'My guilt doesn't matter. This is about Jane.'

And so she just prayed that Jane would be all right, whatever that meant. As long as there was life, there was hope.

One Week Later

Slowly, far slower than Maura would have liked, Jane began to improve. She regained the ability to breathe on her own. Her color got better. There were a few frightening hours when the doctors thought she had developed an infection, but the antibiotics they gave her brought it under control before any lasting damage occurred. On the third day, Jane opened her eyes. She did not speak, but she gave Maura a dry-lipped smile. To the medical examiner, it was the most beautiful sight in the world.

Maura's worries did not disappear after Jane came back from the darkness. In fact, they seemed to multiply. Even though her detective was recovering steadily – that was how Maura thought of Jane now, as her detective – the nightmares often made her forget all of the progress. When Jane was frustrated at her immobility and her mother's frantic hovering, Maura whispered soothing words. When Jane was tired, Maura stroked her hair until she drifted into an uneasy sleep. Unfortunately, the smothering care was starting to grate on Jane's nerves.

"Maur, I'm fine," Jane protested as the medical examiner tried to spoon some inedible-looking green jell-o into her mouth. She had finally been given permission to try semi-solid foods again, and the detective wanted to reclaim some independence by feeding herself. "I can handle it. See?" Trying to prove her point, Jane waved her left hand around. "I shot myself in the gut, not my shoulder."

Maura flinched. "Don't remind me," she said, more sharply than she had intended. It had the desired effect, however. Newly chastened, Jane allowed Maura to feed her the jell-o, shuddering at the unpleasant taste.

"Sorry for snapping at you. It's just that you remind me of my Ma. She's been driving me crazy with all her hovering." Strangely, they were alone at the moment. Mrs. Rizzoli had gone to find some food in the dismal hospital cafeteria. "I have no idea how you got her out of here. She's like an overprotective lioness or... or something."

"A Maiasaura watching over her clutch of eggs," Maura suggested with a small smile. Like most children, Maura had gone through a 'dinosaur phase' while growing up. Unlike most children, however, she had memorized dinosaur taxonomy, habitats, diets, and skeletal structures, not simply their names.

"A Mayan Sore? What is that, a dinosaur?"

Maura knew that the detective was actually a lot smarter than she let on. Sometimes Jane dumbed herself down to fit in better with her brothers in blue. It had annoyed Maura at first, but the medical examiner eventually learned to accept it.

"Maiasaura," Maura repeated. "Maiasaura peeblesorum. Its name means Caring Mother Lizard. Most scientists now believe they were warm-blooded." Maura deliberately ignored the heat crawling beneath her own skin as Jane's dark eyes stared into hers, listening intently. "They lived in large colonies like seabirds. Their young ones were unable to walk at first, so their mothers fed them and protected them from various tyrannosaurids that inhabited the same area."

"Like T-Rex?" Jane asked eagerly, obviously preferring that dinosaur to the demure, duck-billed Maiasaura.

"No, Jane. Tyrannosaurus Rex lived a few million years later. However, the Maiasaura did have to watch out for Daspletosaurus..."

"Okay, I think that's enough dinos for one day," Jane said, giving Maura's hand a gentle pat.

Noticing the dark circles beneath the doctor's eyes, she resisted the temptation to reach up and brush Maura's cheek. For a moment, something hung between them, a tenuous thread, a connection that they could not describe in words. Neither of them spoke. Instead, they simply looked at each other, evaluating.

"Jane, Frankie says..." Two heads, one blonde and one brunette, immediately snapped up to look at the door to Jane's private hospital room. Angela Rizzoli was entering the room with the handle of her large, clunky purse draped over one forearm. "Oh, hello, Maura. Still sitting with Janie?"

"Ma," Jane protested, frowning at the nickname like a child being forced to eat an unpleasant vegetable.

'Or jell-o,' Maura thought wryly.

"Hush," said the older woman, bustling forward and tossing her coat onto an empty visitor's chair. "You'll always be my Janie." So saying, Angela Rizzoli began fussing with her daughter's slightly mussed hair, plumping the sides of her pillow with both hands to make it more comfortable.

"Maiasaura," Maura whispered low beside Jane's other ear. That made the detective laugh, and Angela glanced at her suspiciously.

"What?"

"Nothing. What were you saying about Frankie, Ma?"

Angela collected her thoughts. "The doctor says Frankie is doing good. His lungs are healing up nice thanks to our hero here." She put a gentle, motherly arm around Maura's shoulder, and the medical examiner blushed.

"Jane was the one who gave me the courage to do something," Maura said truthfully. "She was very persistent."

"I hollered at you until you couldn't take it anymore," Jane coughed, her voice a little hoarse from tiredness. Maura noticed, and began smoothing back the detective's hair, much like Angela had done moments before. Instead of protesting, Jane leaned in to the touch, too tired to worry what her mother might think of the intimate gesture.

'That's funny,' Maura thought. 'Usually, Jane shies away from public displays of affection, especially with me.' That got Maura wondering about where their relationship stood. Even though she desperately wanted to know, she was hesitant to bring up the subject, afraid that Jane wouldn't be able to give her the answer she wanted. Jane needed support and stability right now, not stressful questions or ultimatums.

"Well, Frankie is alert and doing great now."

"Good. That's really good, Ma," Jane tried to say through a yawn, closing her eyes. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just... so tired."

"It's fine," Maura insisted, sharing a look with Jane's mother. "You can rest for a little while." With that permission, the detective drifted off.

"She's out," Angela Rizzoli said a minute later, looking down at Jane's sleeping form.

"She looks peaceful. It doesn't seem as though she's in too much pain. Her body just needs time to recover from the internal damage." Maura wanted to reach down and touch Jane's face, trace her dark eyebrows and the warm skin of her forehead, but resisted the temptation. 'Not while Angela's in the room,' she told herself.

As she studied Jane, Maura noticed that Angela was studying her. Unused to being the one under observation, she held perfectly still, trying not to alarm the older woman. Surely Angela could not hear her thoughts. There was no need to panic.

"Jane has been so happy lately, Maura," she started, choosing her words carefully. "Before – before..." Jane's mother could not bring herself to say 'the shooting'. She was still having difficulty with what had happened. "She talked about you all the time. You've been good for her, and I never really got the chance to thank you for saving my son's life."

"Jane saved his life –"

Angela sighed. "Jane..." Maura knew what she meant. Like Angela, Maura had never been sure how to handle Jane. She was unpredictable, a changing variable that could never be plugged in with the same result. There was no use denying it anymore. She was falling in love. Had already fallen in love. Unfortunately, her analytical mind had not presented her with any possible solutions to the problem so far. What did she understand about love, anyway? She felt love for her adoptive family despite the somewhat stiff, formal tone their relationship had taken after what Jane referred to as 'The Garrett Incident'. She felt love for Bass. She even felt a friendship type of love for Frost and Korsak. Romantic love, however, was an entirely new experience for her. In the past, she had believed it to be a myth, something perpetuated by DeBeers and Hollywood in order to make money. Now, faced with the real thing, she felt helpless and confused. She could only struggle forward and hope that the worst of her mistakes were behind her.