*UPDATE*

*I was just planning and looking ahead, and I will need to change the time period somewhat. It still is in the Civil War, but, it will be towards the end of the war. So, yeah, just that change.*

AN: So, I had this idea of writing a story set during the civil war, where Maura and Jane are kind of on the opposite sides. Kind of. Like I said before, I am not an American; therefore, a lot of information comes from what I have learnt in the past, and recent internet research. If there are any mistakes, feel more than welcome to inform me and I will make necessary corrections! As always, reviews are swell, and would make my day. Enjoy. :)

"Someone pass me a roll of cotton gauze!" Maura shouted to one of the passing helpers. Her house was packed with wounded soldiers lying all over the place. Able-bodied people, and other not so severely injured soldiers, scurried around and did their best to aid the injured. Whether it was passing a cup of water to a parched Confederate, or tossing a blanket over a shivering Yankee.

A roll of gauze was eventually passed to Maura, who then promptly attended to the bleeding boy. She thought of him as a boy, for his face looked no older than eighteen.

"I am going to remove your jacket, wash the wound with alcohol, and then dress it. This is probably going to hurt quite a bit. I wish I had something to let you bite on, or some kind of anaesthesia, but I don't." Maura did as she had said. She cut off the fabric covering the jagged bullet wound, placed a basin under his arm, and poured the alcohol over the gash.

Here, the boy could not help the cry of pain. Maura gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. Just bear with me a little while longer. Almost done." she soothed. A short while later, she had the injury all clean and bandaged up.

The boy thanked her as she gathered up the scraps, basin, and other various tools that she had used. She smiled back at him and moved over to cup his cheek. "Get well soon."

It was only two in the afternoon, but Maura felt tired enough to sleep for an entire day. No, make that two days. She had been on her feet since six this morning. This was expected, though. She knew that her house would be turned into a make shift hospital. After all, when you are the town's unofficial doctor, your help would be the most sought after in a time of war.

She plopped down on one of the rare empty spots near the staircase. Oh! How she wished her father and mother were still alive. Their being here would be of so much help. Her dad had been the one who taught her almost all of what she knew about medicine. The rest, she learned from books. And having her mom around to talk to was something Maura missed dreadfully.

"She sat a wonderin' and ponderin', of things I know not. /I wonder if, she would accept a penny for her thought?" a low, husky – or, as some like to say, whiskey soaked – voice drawled.

Maura turned to look at the speaker who was sitting to the right of her. She had to do a double take. The speaker looked like a girl, but at the same time, he or she looked like a guy. The hair was of a shoulder length, black and curly. The facial features looked faintly Italian, with high arching eyebrows, slightly jutting cheekbones, a well-defined nose, and a clean shaven face. Man or woman, the person was obviously a well put together individual. The figure was currently half slouching, half lying against the wall.

"I'm sorry, was my put together on the spot rhyme so bad?" the person teasingly asked.

Maura admonished herself for staring for too long. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to stare. And, no, it wasn't bad at all."

The soldier chuckled. "Haha! So you admit that you were staring!"

Maura felt herself start to flush red at her neck. "Well, it's just that, uh, I didn't know whether you're a, uh, girl or a guy."

The person grinned and beckoned her to move closer. "I am a woman. But don't let nobody know. As a female, the name would be Jane Rizzoli. As a male, I am Jedidiah Romana." Jane whispered.

"Ah, I see." Maura beamed, showing off her dimples. If she were surprised, she didn't show it. "I am Maura Isles, unofficial doctor of this town. Pleased to make your acquaintance!" Maura extended her hand to shake Jane's. Only then did she notice that both of Jane's hands were bandaged. "I am sorry. I didn't notice your hands."

Jane ruefully smiled back at Maura. "Nah, no need to apologize."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you injure yourself there?"

"I'd rather not say now. Suffice enough to tell you that it was done by one of those who're on my side, the Union."

Maura really couldn't have been able to tell which side Jane was on. The uniform Jane wore was faded and torn and dirty till it looked like brown, threadbare fabric that was stitched together.

Maura didn't really take sides – although, she would be a Confederate as she lived in Florida. Being a doctor, she did not discriminate against her patients. Rebels, Yankees, blacks, or white, they were all humans and deserved to be treated as such.

"You didn't answer my question, you know." Jane spoke up.

"I wasn't really thinking of anything, actually. Just wanted to sit down for a breather."

"You sure do look like you need a break. I am glad that there are people like you that run this kind of make shift hospital that aids everyone. Especially since, here in Florida, this would be considered enemy lines for me."

Just then, one of the volunteer nurses called for help with a patient who was bleeding profusely from the side.

Maura immediately snapped up, but before she went to lend a hand, she turned to face Jane and said what she said to every patient, "Get well soon."

Her hands hurt. It hurt so much. The volunteer that had helped clean and bandage the wound looked about ready to faint herself. The scalpels had gone clean through both the middle of her hand, leaving a laceration through which blood was freely flowing from. She nearly fainted when the alcohol hit the mutilated flesh.

"Here, I am not supposed to let anyone drink this alcohol, even if it's to dull the pain, since we are low on it. But, I'll pour you a small cup." the young lady said as she poured the liquid in a chipped wooden mug. She blushed when Jedidiah the soldier put his hand to the cup to help guide it to his mouth, accidentally letting his fingers linger a little too long over hers. Jane smirked a little. She usually always had this effect on other ladies.

Jane was left to herself as the nurse bustled off to help the others. Jane felt her eyes start to droop. She was about to let them shut completely, when she heard the poof of a skirt as someone plopped down on the steps toward the left of her.

Jane turned to find herself looking at a profile of another young lady. She seemed to be in deep thought. Jane impulsively made up a couplet to attract the lady's, and almost regretted it when the young lady turned to face her and stared at her for a tad too long.

Jane had to chuckle when she heard the reason why the lady had freely admitted that she was staring. Her breath stalled when Maura smiled as she introduced herself. She couldn't help but notice the adorable dimples that appeared when Maura beamed at her. She had surprised even herself when she told Maura her real gender. But, there was something about Maura that made Jane feel different, that made Jane feel that she could trust her.

Alas, the subject of her hands had to be brought up. For a moment, memories of Charles Hoyt, the surgeon, and his scalpels came unbidden to her brain. Something that she never wanted to experience ever again. But that bastard was still out there. Jane knew that she had to find him.

As she silently watched Maura leave to attend to the other patient, a poem came to mind, which she silently mumbled aloud.

Thou whose locks outshine the sun,
Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
As the braided streamlets run!

Another Rebel that sat close to her jokingly poked her by saying, "You a walking poetry spouter? You sound like a moon-eyed romantic."

If that were spoken to put a barb in her smiling disposition, she didn't feel it at all. Instead, Jane felt a warm glow settle in her heart, as if something was over and something has scarcely begun.

AN: There was a les mis reference here. Kudos to anyone who can find. Although, I did change one the word – the word "is" to "was."