Author's Note: "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang". Same warnings as previous chapters.
CHAPTER FOUR: THE DAY TO DIE
"You're never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true." – Richard Bach, "Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah"
The dreams never subsided and every night, after spending the day chasing towards the final confrontation, Jane Rizzoli was honestly surprised to still be alive. It seemed like all her life had been preparing for that final sacrifice, but for some reason, it never came. The thought made Jane restless. After a mandatory therapy session, the words had been branded on her file: reckless and self-sacrificing. She wore them like a badge of honor. Where others counted sheep to fall asleep, Jane recounted the moments where she almost died. She had many of them. Reliving them gave her a renewed sense of purpose.
She was going to die one day. She was ready for it.
The dreams no longer were about saving nameless strangers in the course of duty. Increasingly, she sacrificed for members of her family – her brothers, her mother, Maura, her partner, Korsak. Throwing herself in front of a bullet for Frankie. Saving Tommy from a band of murderers who were trying to pin the crime on him. Her Ma meddling in a crime, and being kidnapped, and Jane would hand herself over in exchange. Taking a knife for Korsak, falling down a flight of stairs as she tackled a perp who was aiming for Frost.
Or Maura. Maura taken hostage, Maura shot, Maura dying – and Jane would have to sacrifice herself for her best friend's life.
The dreams kept coming, and Jane embraced the opportunity to prepare. To practice. To die so others could live.
When the day finally came to die, to truly sacrifice, she knew. As Bobby Marino dragged her onto the front steps, she knew she was going to die. Nobody was going to have a clear shot. If they would not shoot now with her desperate pleas, they would never shoot. She understood. She did not blame them.
But, as she heard his poisonous whisper that her brother might already be dead, she has to act. Her brother was bleeding out on a morgue table, Maura was unprotected, and who knows whether there were still shooters left inside?
There was no time. They needed help. The math is simple: if she dies, Maura and Frankie are rescued. It was time for Jane to die.
She acted, determination coursing through her veins. On a shout, she grabbed Marino's gun – this had happened before in her dreams, she realized, this exact scenario – and she angled the gun down, against her torso. She took a deep breath and the memory flashed across her eyes quickly –
Maura giggled, a smile at the detective's cluelessness. "Jane, really?! No, that is not your stomach. The stomach is located on the left side, up here." She tapped the location on the patient's skin. "This organ," she nodded to the removed organ on the scale, "is your gallbladder; it's nonessential. You can remove the gallbladder and live." Maura dug into the patient's cavity, pulling back the skin so Jane could see. "That's where the gallbladder goes, and see, it sits next to your liver. Your liver's incredible. It can regenerate! Well, it's not considered 'true' regeneration but..."
The memory faded, Maura's voice drifting away from her. But it was enough for Jane. She just slightly re-angled the gun, sending up a silent plea that she'd hit those organs, and waited for him to pull the trigger.
Fire.
That's what she felt. Fire, burning a path through her, coursing, twisting, rushing. How had Maura never mentioned that she'd feel this pain if she were shot? The flames licked through her abdomen- and the sounds of thousands of drums clashing in her skull, and then the darkness rushing towards her, too fast, too quickly.
And then…
Black.
…
Her eyes flickered open. Maura hovered over her. Was this?… she bit back the thought. The blonde exhaled a single word, the tone soft. "Jane." The brunette tried to move, tried to respond, but the world fuzzed away from her and she slid back into the darkness.
Author's Note: This is crazy short, but it just HAD to stand alone. I tried to combine it with a few things, and it just didn't work. It begged to stand alone.
Also, by the way, it's basically sheer luck if you manage to survive a gunshot wound to the abdomen. But /theoretically/ there are 'better' and 'worse' places to be shot, although yeah. The medicine basically says there's no real way to predict - particularly because of fragmentation of bullets, the rib cage, and the fact that a lot of the real damage isn't done by the bullet itself but the caving afterwards. In other words: don't try this at home, folks.
Reviews are, as always, so appreciated, especially for a story like this that is insanely near and dear to my heart.