Rating: M

Notes: Rough and tumble! This chapter and probably the next will be flashback chapters (can you say flashbacks within flashbacks? Oy.). I'm only indicating that here in the notes, not in the story, so I hope nobody gets confused.

Warning, there is dark content and violence in this chapter and possible rape triggers for some. It's not gratuitous, but it's there. If that isn't your thing, you can skip this one and it won't affect your understanding for the rest of the fic.

Chapter 9

"Can I open it?"

"Of course you can," Maura said, a tiny smile lifting her features.

Jane set her bottle down on the granite counter top and reached for the rectangular object. Silver paper covered it on all sides and a white ribbon adorned the body, bisecting it perfectly in two. She was having a little difficultly tearing off the paper with one hand. Maura stood there patiently, knowing Jane would not take kindly to any assistance.

Apparently, Jane could do everything on her own.

Such as kick down the door of an abandoned structure to pursue a fleeing suspect, paying no mind whatsoever to the fact that backup had not yet arrived. Maura tried to keep a neutral face as she eyed the sling that supported Jane's other arm.

She'd gotten lucky. A hairline fracture in her collarbone was the only consequence of her actions - that and apprehending the killer. According to Jane, that's all that mattered in the end. They could all go home and sleep soundly.

The decorative wrapping eventually gave way to Jane's searching fingers and she looked down thoughtfully at the object.

"The Art of War."

"It's my own copy. I think you would enjoy it."

"What makes you think I haven't already read it?" Jane asked.

"I've scanned your bookshelves."

They smirked at one another.

Absent was the glass of wine that would normally be in Maura's hand. She just wasn't feeling it on this particular night. She moved around the island to be closer to Jane, to study her face as she read the jacket liner.

Her detective smiled indulgently. "This have something to do with today?"

"No…" Maura attempted and then felt an icky pressure building around her lungs. "Not entirely. Do you like it?"

"Yes. Thank you." Jane answered resolutely. Maura would have to be satisfied with that for now.

"Good. There are notes in the margins." Then she gestured to Jane's clavicle. "May I?"

Before Jane could even nod her permission, Maura was reaching for the sling to carefully loosen it and ply her arm free. When Maura's fingers went to unbutton her shirt, Jane grabbed her beer and took a drink. Maura undid one button, then another, and the kitchen was way too quiet.

"What no foreplay?" She joked with a shaky grin and another tip of the bottle.

Maura didn't look up.

"If those were my intentions, I wouldn't be starting with your shirt."

Jane choked painfully on her beer, coughing in gasps as Maura patted her back.

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She'd been dreaming when the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead.

In the darkness she could only make out a lumpy figure. He had invaded her small campsite and Jane had slept obliviously through the entire thing. She was that exhausted.

"Don't move or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out."

He needed mouthwash badly. Her eyes were already adjusting to the night and she could see the puffs of cold air that accompanied his words. All Jane could think was that this didn't make sense; she should have been days ahead of these guys.

Long months had passed and she'd found nothing but infestation and decay. Jane's growing impatience had gotten the better of her, muddled her judgment, and she hastily cut a path through an open field rather than stick to the safety of the surrounding tree line. Halfway across, a gang of outlaws emerged from the forest and stopped her in her tracks. She crouched in the tall grass but it was too late. They'd begun their pursuit and she darted through the woods. After three days of hard running, Jane was certain she would be off their radar soon. They must have had a very skilled tracker among them. The group was at least eight and yet this man was alone.

"Get up," he ordered. She barely made a move when a hand on her neck applied an uncomfortable level of pressure to her artery. "Slowly."

The days were chilly but bearable. The nights however would turn bitterly cold. Jane slept under her blanket with her knees against her chest, arms wrapped around, and nose buried in the crook. The figure backed away and after a deep breath, she very slowly unraveled herself. He probably didn't want her on her feet so she leaned against the felled tree that made up part of her shelter. The shadow standing over her came into focus. The crescent moon hung over them in the sky, its fractured light more than enough for Jane to gather the vital details.

.45 held steady in his right hand, semi-automatic rifle, no blade that she could see, a backpack, five foot ten…

And nightvision goggles. Dammit all to hell. They were able to move at night. Still a stupid move no matter how well you could see. They must have wanted her badly.

"Toss your weapons. All of them, don't be cute. Then keep your hands where I can see them." The voice was deep. Calm.

Jane divested her body of her knives and guns, throwing them off to the side, then rested her hands on her bent knees. Her new vulnerability seemed to relax him, and he squatted down to go through her bag. Jane noticed his clothes were ill fitting and baggy. He was probably pretty thin under all that weaponry.

He mumbled words she didn't understand, sloppily dumping out her food, keeping her pills and matches. She held her breath, praying that he might miss a few items in her pack. The gun remained trained on her, pointing directly at her chest. Could she disarm him now? Not allowing the damn thing to go off would be key. She furtively measured the distance between them, the angle of his position versus her own, the vulnerable points she would need to strike… Her muscles began to twitch with the anticipation.

Before she could decide on anything, he popped open a waterproof container and sneered at the contents.

"Everyone always has pictures. What's the point? They're all dead." Jane didn't know why he was bothering to go through them then. He held one up so she could see it. "This your family?"

Jane stared straight ahead, her face a mask of indifference to his questions. Talking would only gift him with her weaknesses or worse, her strengths. He waited a beat. When she didn't answer, he shrugged and flicked the photo back into the box.

"Cute dog…probably dead too…" He murmured shuffling through the small pile.

Then he paused and his lips parted into a sinister smile. With the goggles on, he resembled one of those mad villains that Jane might have seen in Frankie's old comic book collection.

"Guess you wouldn't know where this one is, would you?"

He turned the photo to her but Jane refused to acknowledge it. She didn't have to. It was the picture of her and Maura, she knew it was.

Slogging through week three of mandatory desk duty, Jane had been in a foul mood when it was taken. Frost had purchased a shiny new digital camera for himself and fiddled with the damn thing every day, the constant clicks and beeps and whirs getting on her last nerve. Despite all of Jane's bitchiness, Maura would bring her coffee nearly every day and Frost insisted on snapping the photo. Jane silently protested by pretending she didn't hear him.

But when Maura's gentle arms wrapped around her waist, it felt only natural to drape her one good arm around her shoulders and be a good sport about it all. Jane didn't even know she could smile that big until Frost showed it to her the following week. They looked every bit like they belonged together, and Frost raised a teasing eyebrow when she requested a copy of it, right on the spot.

It was a good memory, but with every good memory came the inevitable pain. Nothing would ever be the same anymore, a fact that she was acutely aware of, and sometimes Jane wished she'd left it behind.

But who was she kidding?

Just the thought of it triggered emotions Jane didn't need to feel. Looking at it now would surely reveal something to this creep that Jane didn't want him to know.

"Who is she?"

Silence.

"Not your sister... Cousin? Best friend?"

More silence.

"Girlfriend?" His tone was lecherous. "Oh, the things I'd do to her."

They were only words but Jane was unable to ignore them. The last thing she needed to think about was Maura, but now it was the only thing she could think about. Maura…in the hands of someone like this…

She couldn't stop her fingers from digging into her knees and crumpling the fabric of her pants. He watched with a twisted satisfaction as her reactions betrayed her, then grinned and pocketed the photo.

"For later."

The blood in her veins turned to venom and in that moment, hate was not a strong enough word for what she felt. If she could get one bare hand on him, just one. She'd rip his jugular out with her own damn teeth if she had to.

Then he found it and Jane wanted to curse the world. There in his grubby little fingers was her detective's badge. So much for that particular element of surprise, she thought. He waved it at her and tsked.

"Keeping secrets? I thought we were friends."

He reached for something in his belt and produced a pair of handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

"Sure you're familiar with how to use these," he said tossing them into her lap. "Put them on."

Fuck.

She hesitated before slipping them on silently. The metal teeth clacked into place, shackling together her two remaining weapons. She clinked her wrists apart to show him they were on good and tight. Brimming with confidence, he stood to remove the rifle hanging from his shoulders and even turned his back on Jane to grab one of her knives.

"Here's what's going to happen." He crouched down to one of her boots and began sawing at the laces. She kept her knives razor-sharp and without much effort, he split them right up the center. "You and I are going to party for a little bit. Don't even think of running or screaming." He grabbed her boot and yanked it off. "Well, scream if you want, but it'll just make all sorts of things come running and they're not as nice as I am."

Jane didn't hear a word he'd said, too busy scanning her surroundings for any means of escape. God damn badge! Why did she have to be so fucking sentimental? She needed her hands, she needed something. She began to tremble, the tension in her stomach threatening to rip her in two, and she knew she was panicking.

Then the gun wavered in his grip.

Jane's eyes instantly locked onto the barrel like a laser. It was small, but it was the precious opening she'd been waiting for. Her other boot laces popped as he cut them open, the leather stiffly peeling away. She drew in a long breath and inverted her foot slightly, enough to make him have to tug twice. The gun dipped a few inches.

In a flash, the metal of her handcuffs connected with the joint of his hand and the weapon flew from his grasp. It skidded across the forest floor, displacing pine needles and bits of earth. He rose up only to buckle, screaming in agony as Jane brought her heel firmly down into his knee. She could actually hear the tendon snap. He fell forward and she kicked up, her booted foot connecting directly with his face. The force drove the goggles into his eyes and shattered his nose before flying off his head. Jane twisted nimbly to avoid the knife in his hand and the blade disappeared harmlessly into the dirt beneath them. He came down on her with a thud, dazed but not unconscious.

She put everything into bucking her hips, trying to maneuver him off of her, but it was useless. He'd landed too high on her body and straddled her rib cage. Ugh. Night-blind and frantic, he grabbed at her to try and catch a limb, but Jane was much too fast for him and stronger than she looked. The back of her knuckles cracked against his chin but from this position, they were sorely lacking in power.

A heavy blow fell through the darkness and caught Jane square on the cheek. She knew she was stunned, felt something warm and sticky...was it her blood or his? Another one followed and she was seeing stars.

The edges of her world started blacking out.

Jane was nervous, couldn't stop asking questions. She had every right to be when a beautiful woman was running her fingers along her chest.

"It's not that bad right? What do you think? How long you think they'll keep me chained to a desk?"

"No, it's not that bad. I think you got lucky. And I don't know Jane, possibly four to six weeks," she answered. Maura caught her with her gaze. "You understand you were very fortunate, don't you? Anything could have happened when you went through that door alone."

She would have shrugged if it didn't hurt so badly. Instead she stood there quietly, eyes down, unsure of why she felt like she owed Maura an explanation.

"How does it feel when you breathe?"

Jane took a deep breath…

"Bitch, you're dead!"

Her head felt like a grenade had gone off inside it. Even blinking hurt. It took a few seconds of easy breathing for Jane to realize his weight was gone. He had rolled off of her to crawl towards the gun, his crippled leg dragging pitifully behind him.

She scrambled after him, each movement shooting arrows of pain through her skull. He kicked at her as she clambered over his legs and in no time at all, Jane had his back. He bit and snarled wildly with retaliation as her fingers clawed at his face, digging into his eyes and nostrils. Shut up, shut up, shut up… Finally she jammed her wrists down hard, slipping the chains of her handcuffs across his throat and reared back with every ounce of strength she had. He struggled to break free. Jane shifted her knees onto his spine and welcomed the additional leverage. She imagined he was bent back at quite an unnatural angle and hoped it hurt like hell. Her forearms shook violently with the effort, arms burning from exertion, and she crossed her wrists to pinch him even tighter. The unfinished metal tore through her flesh but there was no pain, only the vague sensation of something warm soaking into her sleeve.

The life wheezed out of him with every second and Jane knew that in less than thirty, he would be gone. He flailed weakly, gasping, no longer fighting her but fighting for air. This would be her first human kill. Even Paul she had let go and Jane wondered if that hadn't been a mistake. Maybe he was out there right now doing to some poor woman what this man had tried to do to her. Would Maura be able to fight off an attacker like this one? Her jaw clenched at the thought. A sob caught in her throat, transforming itself into a hateful growl that hissed and spit through her grinding teeth.

Then he went limp.

Jane held the tension a few more moments, just to be sure, before dropping him to the ground. His lifeless body hit the earth with a hollow thud and Jane, sapped of strength, nearly fell with him.

Their scuffle had caused all sorts of ruckus, enough that any rotters roaming within fifty yards would have heard. Possibly even an outlaw. At least the gun had not been fired. She listened for sounds of any kind. Anything that would indicate she had been detected. Hunched over and shivering, she waited in silence over her kill to see if the monsters would come get her.

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Jane tightened her boots and tried to ignore the metallic smell wafting up her nostrils. The laces were a little long and she double wrapped them around her ankles. Her adrenaline had long since faded and she was beginning to feel the effects of the melee. Pain everywhere, especially in her head. Her cheek was starting to swell and her left wrist already bled through the gauze she hastily spun around it. Maura's scarf had spared her right wrist from any similar damage.

After a quick pat-down, she retrieved the pills and supplies he'd taken from her. Her hands wandered over a large bulge in his back pocket and found what looked to be a wallet. It was leather, thin and warped. It obviously held all sorts of things at one point, credit cards, business cards, money. It sadly kept the shape of all those things but was quite empty now.

Jane stared at it for a long time before flipping it open.

Pictures. A wife. Two children. Someone else, maybe a sister. All smiling back at her.

She slapped it shut and threw it down. Her head dropped into her hands, palms pressed hard against her eye sockets.

Tears welled in her eyes and she didn't know why. She had been left with no choice, hadn't she? The man she killed was no longer the man in those pictures. With or without the bite, he'd mutated into something evil - something worse than a rotter. There was no way both of them were gonna live to see the morning. It would be her or him. She did what she had to do. And yet Jane couldn't shake the malaise that festered in the center of her chest. An odd sensation to say the least, like she was too far from home and had left something important behind.

She'd never taken any pleasure in destroying the rotters. If she could live the rest of her life and never have to kill another, it was fine by her. But this man…if the others had been lined up behind him, well…

Jane would gladly put bullets in peoples' heads rather than blast holes through their hands. Easily.

A bitter smile grew on her face. She wondered what Maura would think of her and as thoughts of Maura often went, Jane immediately wondered if she was safe.

She started feeling over the body again and roughly shifted him around to reach into his front pockets. The stiff corner of the photo pricked her finger. It was slightly crinkled now, but not much worse for wear. A day's travel pressed between the pages of a book would restore it. She drew her fingers down the photo once, passing over Maura's image, her smile so beautiful it hurt just looking at it.

"Am I ever gonna find you?" Jane whispered.

She allowed herself a few more moments before she put the photo back safely with the others. She glanced up at the sky to find that the black tapestry of the night had turned to a midnight blue. A couple more hours and it would be light enough out to travel. But how far could she possible make it before the others caught up? Most likely not even a day.

Her clear eyes dropped down to the corpse at her feet. She needed to work quickly if she were to have any chance.

It was her or them, and Jane was done running.

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I should just stop apologizing for the long periods between updates cause I keep doing it and eventually it will just come off as insincere. lol All I can do is promise to work on this series as diligently as I can. Because I am you guys. I am.

Next chapter is already written and nearly finished editing so there is that. :)

Oh and thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave feedback for me. It chicken soup for the writer's soul!