The madness started quicker than Jane could keep up with. She wasn't ready. Frost certainly wasn't ready.
But neither of them had a choice. It was part of the job they chose. A choice that in moments like this, felt brash and stupid and reckless.
When the gunfire started the two detectives shuddered on instinct, ducking at bullets that were poorly aimed into the hospital room. It was then that Jane noticed the first shriek. Her heart stopped.
Dr. Maura Isles had followed them into the room. And now she was in the crossfire.
"Get down!" Jane screamed at her.
The petrified doctor complied, crouched down and cowering into the corner away from the door. Frost slammed the door closed as bullets continued to rain in. He panted heavily as he leaned against the wall.
"What do we do?" he breathed.
With his big brown eyes on her, full of fear and Maura Isles now in their trust, Jane Rizzoli suddenly felt the power of the call. She was in charge. Frost was too young. And now a washed up, cokehead cybercrime detective was going to have to get them out.
"Get Cavanaugh on the line. We need to shut down traffic to the hospital. Lockdown the seventh floor," Jane said hoarsely. She didn't realize she was panting for air as she stayed crouched by Lori's bed.
Frost eagerly nodded and fumbled with his cellphone holder. A bullet crashed through the small window on the door, causing Dr. Isles to scream. Glass broke into the room and shattered on the floor. More bullets rained in. Frost turned, aiming his gun out the window and firing a few rounds back.
"Jane!" Maura called above the noise.
The detective first filled with anxiety. In the heat of the chaos, by no choice of her own, Jane realized that the surgeon was her main priority. She would do anything before she let Maura Isles get hurt.
But the doctor was fine. She was pointing across the room, to the other side of Lori's bed, where the man in black was taking a second attempt with his needle.
Jane sprang to her feet like a cat. She didn't think, she only moved. Adrenaline filled her as she shoved the man away from Lori. He didn't go easily. He grabbed onto her arms, squeezing and pushing with force. He spun Jane around, slamming her into the wall behind them.
She momentarily saw white as he threw her head into the wall. But the force inspired new determination. Frost was still firing through the broken window, providing little back up so it was up to her. As the man turned his back to her and approached Lori, Jane grabbed his arm, twisting it with such force that he cried out. She was just an inch from breaking it when he threw his head back. Jane felt her cheek bone crack under the force but was too focused to care.
The detective forced him away from the bed, sending him crashing into a tray of medical tools. He stumbled and came back at her with a fist. Jane dodged the strike and the second, finally landing one of her own into his gut. The man hardly budged, until Jane followed it by a kick to the groin.
As he hunched over, Jane wound up a determined fist, swinging a full force punch across his temple. In an instant the perp fell back, unconscious from the blow, and landed nosily to the ground. The slam of his skull on the linoleum insured he wouldn't be waking anytime soon.
"Fuck!" Jane shouted.
She squeezed her punching hand in angst, doing her best to breathe against the pain. She'd been sloppy in her form and felt at least three bones in her hand break against the man's face. Frost glanced over in concern.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jane hissed. "You got cuffs?"
Frost nodded. They were attached to his belt and Jane knew he was too busy returning fire to grab them. She crouched again as she approached him at the door, moving as quickly as she could to the other side of the bed and sliding on the linoleum beneath Frost.
She could hardly move her right hand, making it difficult to remove the cuffs and keys from the detective's belt. Frost kept his gaze out the window, dipping in and out of the opening to avoid bullets. Jane winced against the pain in her fingers, working unsuccessfully without the full use of one hand.
"Here," a gentle voice said.
Maura was suddenly at her side, shoulders brushing up against hers, trembling but brave. Her nimble, surgeon's hands moved against Jane's. Even in the midst of gunfire, Jane lost her breath to Maura. She wanted to shield her and protect her from the violence. More than anything she needed her to be safe.
"Are you okay?" Maura asked her.
She successfully removed the handcuffs off of Frost and now turned concerned attention to the detective. Jane's cheek was already swelling from the fight and her broken right hand was shaking uncontrollably. She nodded.
"Just stay down," Jane told her.
Maura watched in slight awe as the detective whisked off, sliding back across the slick floor to the man she rendered motionless. Jane snapped one cuff to the man and another to the sturdy metal heater. She pulled the gun off his hip and momentarily stared at the weapon in awe.
She hadn't held a gun for eight months.
The last time she used it was when Martinez was killed. During the standard investigation period, Jane was forced to take leave and turn in her weapon. After transferring to cybercrimes there wasn't much use for one. The thrill and power was another rush. Another hit. Another cocaine.
"Jane!" Frost yelled.
With gun drawn, finger on the trigger, Jane ran over to join her partner by the door. He stayed on one side of the window and her on the other.
"How many?" Jane asked.
"I've only seen two," Frost replied. A bullet whizzed into the room between them. Jane quickly popped out, firing off two shots at the assailants who ducked back behind the nurse's station.
"We've got your guy!" Jane yelled. "Put the guns down. The Boston PD is on their way."
In response a bullet was sent on a direct path for Jane's forehead. She ducked out of the way not a second too soon, causing Maura to put a terrified hand over her mouth.
Instilling more fear was a booming voice that sounded in the hall. The gunfire stopped but a few screams were heard outside the room.
"All of you come out!" the man demanded. "Or she gets it! She'll just be the first!"
"He's got a nurse," Frost said with panic. He quickly looked to Jane for direction.
"Let her go," Jane advised. It was quiet enough for her to not need to raise her voice. "You're not going to shoot your way out of this one. You know you're fucked."
The detective peered out the glass shattered window. Nurses and a few doctors were cowered down to the floor of the ICU. A man in black with his face covered, held one of the nurses at gunpoint. She squirmed uneasily in his hold. The second man paced throughout the hub of action, gun in hand.
"Maybe you're right," the man called back. "Doesn't mean I can't take a few down with me. You want to risk it officer?"
"It's detective," Jane snapped. It was a stupid point but a point to be made. A point to make certain she wasn't going to back down.
"Bullet's going straight through her skull unless you and the other officer get out here," he said.
Jane swallowed hard. She wasn't well-versed in hostage situations. During her time in Vice she'd been involved in one, held at gunpoint during a deal gone bad. But the backup had come in time. This time however it was just her and Frost. He waited for her instructions.
"Come on," she whispered. Frost nodded before Jane looked to Maura. "Stay here."
"She's going to die!" the hostage taker barked.
Jane Rizzoli opened the door of the hospital room, gun in hand. Frost slid out behind her.
"The doctor too!" the man shouted.
Jane closed her eyes in defeat, listening as a few timid steps signaled Maura's presence behind her. On instinct, Jane stepped in front of the doctor, keeping one hand out to shield her.
"We're here," Jane said. "What do you want?"
"Weapons on the floor," he demanded.
"Jane…" Frost growled.
"Do it," she snipped.
The men laughed as the detectives placed their guns on the linoleum. Jane's jaw tightened in anger. For the first time she realized the guard by the door was dead – bled out on the floor. The rage flamed up her cheeks while she stared, plunged into the familiar feelings, suddenly frozen in a crouched position. Without realizing she was doing so, Jane succumbed to the memories and flashes.
It was no longer the dead hospital officer but instead the lifeless face of Rafael Martinez. Jane had seen plenty of bodies, injuries, and even killings before that – three years of vice was plenty opportunity – but Rafael's death in a gang war that day was the hardest thing she ever witnessed. It wasn't just blood on her hands or on the floor or found in her hair that night – it was his blood. And ever since that blood, Jane couldn't bear to see anymore. That's why she needed the cyber unit. She hadn't seen blood since.
"Jane," Frost hissed at her.
The novice detective was panicking as he stood. The gunmen were preparing to strike. Jane was still hovering over the gun, gaze trapped by a trance.
"What's she doing?" the gunman was asking.
"Stand up!" the other shouted.
"Get away from the gun!"
"Jane!" Frost yelled.
"I'm going to shoot!"
"Stand up!"
Maura watched the scene in terror. She'd been so petrified since the first gunshot that she could hardly speak. While she was calm and collected with someone's life in her hands, with a knife above a heart or a brain, she couldn't think during the rapid, random violence. She stood behind Jane Rizzoli with wobbly knees, wringing her hands together so intensely that they were turning red and hot from her touch.
As the gunman shouted louder and stepped closer to the flashback stricken Jane, Maura was suddenly sobered.
The threat to the woman beneath her – the woman who completely baffled the doctor, who made her heart thunder when she came near, who seemed to hate her, who Maura treated as nothing more than any other cocaine induced patient, who she'd only known for six hours which was definitely not enough time to develop the necessary amount of oxytocin and vasopressin hormones for a limerent relationship – was enough to make her feel strength for an impossible fight.
"Jane," Maura started gently. She blinked, shaking herself out of the fear and forcing a sliver of strength. "Jane, you have to get up."
Maura's voice was enough. The hand was back on the detective's shoulder. A life raft out. Warmth, safety suddenly hit Jane among the awful blood. A reprieve she hadn't felt since Rafael's death – or perhaps had never felt at all.
"Get up," Maura pleaded. "Come back, Jane. Come back, honey."
It slipped so naturally that Maura never had the chance to amend the words. She'd never used such a name before. Not for her dolls or first boyfriend or Ian or the boy in medical school who said he loved her and would marry her.
Her thoughts ceased as soon as Jane stood. She glanced back at Maura, dark eyes lost and hopeless. A look that hurt Maura's heart.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" the gunman growled at her.
"We did what you asked," Jane sighed turning back to him. "Let her go."
The nurse nodded vehemently, red and scared with the gun still pressed to her forehead. While he considered the demand, Jane glanced around the room. This section of the ICU was only eight rooms large. Three nurses, two orderlies, and another doctor were filtered in along with five patients currently safe in their rooms. A dead guard. Two detectives. And Maura Isles. Jane suddenly felt the pressure of thirteen lives in her hands. The seventh floor was likely closed off. She could hear the sound of a helicopter outside. Help was on the way. But it would be difficult to get it into the room.
"Let her go," Frost demanded. "You don't want more blood on your hands."
"I don't care about blood," the gunman with a rifle hissed. He held his weapon with both hands, slowly strolling among the cowering hospital workers who sat on the ground and ducked with fear. "What are you going to give us?"
"You could get out of here. Reduced sentence, reduced charges," Jane suggested. "You're obviously doing someone's dirty work."
The rifled man twitched. "You think you're pretty smart huh?" he growled.
"You're both from Southie," Jane continued. She pressed forward to stall. Pressed forward to give the hospital workers more time and the BPD a chance to save them. Her voice was strong while it scraped out against her through. "I can tell from the accent. And that's where all the bodies were dumped…"
"Fuck you," the man with the nurse barked.
"So who are you working for?" Jane asked. "You working for Paddy? He make you come here to clean up after him?"
The ICU was silent.
Jane chuckled. She could feel Frost looking at her nervously. She could feel Maura behind her. "I'm right, huh?" the detective taunted. "Not a point now boys. We'll track you down. We know who you work for…"
"You don't know shit!" the rifled one shouted.
He stepped toward Jane but before he could take even a full stride, the hospital phone rang abruptly. The ring was startling, causing nearly everyone, including the gunmen to jump. Jane felt Maura move closer to her, the doctor's light breath on her neck. The warmth was just centimeters from Jane, felt through her green scrubs.
The gunmen exchanged glances as if deciding who should answer. They didn't account for this. Didn't plan for hostages. They had bullets and that was all.
"Everyone sit down!" the rifled one shouted. He moved over brashly and kicked away Jane and Frost's guns before pushing the younger detective down to the floor. Jane would have pounced if it was anyone else, sending daggers through the man's heart as Frost sat back up on the floor. She slowly lowered herself to the floor, Maua taking a place beside her.
Across the room the other gun man threw the nurse to the floor, temporarily releasing her from harm before he grabbed the phone. "What do you want?" he asked.
"That's going to be the negotiator," Jane whispered to Frost.
His brown eyes were less scared this time as they found hers but still pleading. "What do we do?" he asked.
"We stay calm. Stall as long as we can," Jane replied. "We try to get everyone out alive."
"What about the patients?" Maura whispered.
She leaned in close to speak to the detectives, gaze glossed with terror.
"They don't want them," Frost said.
Jane nodded in agreement. The hostage takers spoke on the phone. They were demanding a helicopter on the roof in ten minutes. So far they were neither the brightest or creative.
Jane licked her lips at the free moment. She was sweating, shaking for a chance at calm. Her hand throbbed, her cheek was swelling by the second, and the ordeal wasn't helped by her come down from the night's buzz. She watched the gunmen and the guns. Jane swallowed hard. There was a chance she would die up there. Die with all the hospital workers. Even when the PD came, they could be caught in the crossfire by a stray bullet. And the blood would be hers this time. She could be happy with that. But the prospect, the blood made her crazy.
"Do you have anything?" Jane whispered to Maura.
The doctor's brow fell in confusion. Her beautiful gold eyes widened. "What?" she whispered back.
Jane Rizzoli would have been too proud in the past. Jane would have never thought of asking for this. Not in a million years. But she was far from herself. She was not the Jane Rizzoli of eight months ago. And in this moment it rang true – she was an addict.
"A pill. A pill, anything," Jane hissed. "For…for the pain."
Frost, who had his inklings of Jane's dependence, did his best to keep his face straight. He looked away while Maura went from confusion to outrage.
"Are you really asking me for drugs right now?" Maura growled. Her cheeks went hot with rage.
"I have a broken hand and a broken face," Jane snapped.
"You would think the aid of your adrenal glands would be enough," the doctor whispered.
"Are you kidding me?" Jane asked. "You are so judgmental. Do you want to get out of this alive?"
"Ladies, stop," Frost hissed.
The gunmen were still occupied with the phone call. The negotiations weren't going well. The man with the rifle kept eyes on the small space, eyeing the detectives closely.
"I need it," Jane growled back at Maura. She stared with the same judgment as before.
"You're not going to help us while you're high on pain pills," she told the doctor. "It impairs judgment and coordination and…"
"I could give a fuck. It's not to get high. I am in excruciating pain," Jane snapped. Maura narrowed her brow, waiting her out with poise even in the circumstance. The doctor was perfect in her posture on the floor, face impeccably calm, intelligent as she looked at the detective. Jane bit on her lip in rage, glanced around the room, and then leaned in, barely an inch from the doctor's nose.
"Fine," Jane whispered. She was boiling with anger, trembling even from the toxic combination of rage and fear. "Fine, you want me to say it? I need to get high right now. I need a fucking handful of pills because I'm coming down and I can't do this. I can't think straight, I can't stop seeing my dead partner's face, and I can't make a fist. And you know what, I'm not dying sober!"
Jane's hissing caught the attention of the other hostages. The man with the rifle pointed at her in warning. With desperation, Jane kept her stare on Maura's. The doctor appeared awestruck by the honesty and let out a slow breath.
"I don't have anything," Maura told her.
The detective's face dropped in fury. She opened and closed her mouth before speaking. "Then why the hell did you just put me through that?"
"Shut up," Frost said between tight lips.
Jane cursed under her breath while slowly reaching to her jacket pocket. The gunmen were screaming into the phone now, so the detective took the moment to remove the baggie of cocaine out of her pocket. She eagerly opened the bag, used a folded piece of paper inside to scoop a small amount of white powder up, brought it to her nose and snorted. The process took a full five seconds, leaving her undetected by their hostage takers.
"Are you kidding me?" Maura asked.
"Don't," Jane growled.
"You need help," the doctor whispered.
"I'll worry about that if we get out of this alive," Jane hissed.
"Why did you ask me for pills if you had cocaine still?" Maura asked.
"Hey!" the man with the rifle screamed. He left his partner at the nurse's station on the phone. "Shut up! I swear to God I'll kill both of you!"
He stomped toward them, coming fast enough to make the trio shudder.
"We'll have a chopper here in ten minutes," his partner announced to him, slamming the phone down.
"You must be pretty fucking stupid if you think that chopper is coming," Jane taunted.
"I've had enough of you!" the man barked.
He angrily reached down, grabbing Jane by her head of tangled black hair, and dragger her across the floor, away from Frost and Maura. She groaned and flailed at his action.
And then it hit her.
The high.
The plan.
With all the strength left in her – the strain of her abs, the flex of her biceps, and flexibility of her form – Jane grabbed at the gunman's leg. She gripped it hard, doing her best to hold on. He continued without flinching, pulling her along roughly, nearly breaking the hair from her head.
She sensed him slowing.
He was about to stop.
And with a grunt and the pull of her biceps, Jane moved herself across the floor, using her hands on his leg for leverage to pull her legs up and tangle with his.
The heavy man tripped clumsily over Jane, losing his balance against his own weight. He tumbled hard onto the floor, knocking with Jane as he did so, sending them rolling across the floor. Commotion erupted in the room. The other gunmen panicked, not sure whether to come over or keep the rest of the ICU under control.
But it was too late.
Like a cat Jane rolled, instantly straddling her assailant. She did her best to yank the gun out of his hand, running on new strength, a new high, more adrenaline. He was still stronger. The gunman grunted, pushing the barrel up to Jane's chest. Sweat beaded her brow and his. His finger was on the trigger.
Jane pushed the barrel out of the way not a second too soon.
The gun fired just past her shoulder, sending a bullet into the ceiling and plaster to the ground. The hospital workers screamed and the other gunman fired at the pair but Jane was unfazed. She was back. She was fighting. Hours ago it seemed impossible. Now she was determined to fight for her life.
Without a thought, without hesitation, Jane slammed her right fist into the man's Adam's apple. Another bone broke but the grip on the rifle loosened. Jane instantly seized it into her grasp as he choked, gasping for air against the blow.
The rifle flipped around in a second, barrel to the gunman's chest, a finger on the trigger.
Jane pulled with darkness in her eyes, not a single thought of standing down in her head.
The blood splattered onto her cheeks. He was dead instantly. The sound of the backfire nearly made her deaf.
But it wasn't over.
With speed she pounced back up to her feet, aiming the gun at the other assailant. He trembled at the sight of her.
"Frost!" Jane barked at him.
He was staring in awe. The young detective had never seen anything like it. Was certain it was something out of an action movie. Something that couldn't be done. Jane Rizzoli really was super human.
She barked at him again, rifle still on the other hostage taker, blood of another dripping from her face. Frost tripped up to his feet, scrambling so fast he nearly fell to reach the dead security guard. He pulled the handgun from the man's belt while Jane handled the other gunman.
"Put your weapon down!" she shouted at him.
"Fuck you!" he yelled.
Frost stood next to her, his gun aimed as well. "No way out now. We'll call up the backup."
"That's right. It's too late for me," the gunman trembled. He kept a tight hold on the gun.
"Why did you come here? Just to finish off that girl?" Jane asked.
He swallowed hard. The gun wavered in his hand.
"You can still get out of this," Frost said. "Tell us who sent you here."
"No," the gunman whispered.
"Help yourself. Why the hell did three gunman come here to kill one girl?" Jane asked.
"Tell us!" Frost screamed. He was more confident now. Shoulders back, gun steady. "Tell us now!"
"We were here for a doctor," the gunman whispered.
"What?" Jane asked. "Which one?"
"Paddy's daughter," he revealed.
"Who's Paddy's daughter?" Jane asked. "Paddy doesn't have a daughter."
"They'll kill me," the gunman muttered. He slowly slackened. The gun suddenly moved from Jane to underneath his chin.
"No!" Jane shouted.
"Don't! Put it down!" Frost yelled.
The gun fired. Their man was gone. The doors of the ICU burst open and the police officers flooded the halls.
Jane backed up, hands covered in blood, the rifle in her hand. She leaned back against the wall, sliding down to the floor in fatigue.
And across from her, still sitting in fear, she could see her.
Dr. Maura Isles was overcome with tears.
Review are appreciated! Thank you for your support. I'll try to update soon.