Chapter Eleven

"Dr. Isles, if you didn't like my stitches, you should have just said something." The physician assistant that was bent over Maura's leg glanced warmly up at her as she set to work, repairing the stitches that she had made only several days earlier.

Maura watched her, craving some sort of distraction after having refused anything other than a regional anesthetic. Until she heard an update on Jane's condition, she was bent on preserving some level of mental clarity, despite the pain that was slowly effusing into the rest of her body. Her worry, which had been cloying at her since she and Jane were separated, was brewing into a tempestuous storm, acting as more of a barrier to lucidity than a double dose of morphine ever could. "Your near-near-far-far stitch is quite exceptional," she commended half-heartedly as her eyes followed the woman's neat stitching and steady hand.

Maura looked up at Frankie, who stood next to the gurney, his hands crossed over his uniformed chest and a nauseated look on his face as he stared down at her mangled leg. She raised a heavy hand to his forearm, startling him out of his emetic daze. "Frankie, do you mind going to check with your mom and see if she's heard anything?" Judging by the paleness of his face, he looked as if he could use a break from watching her procedure; otherwise, he would soon be lying on a bed next to her.

Frankie nodded, his stomach turning. It was one thing to stare down at gore when the body attached to it couldn't feel pain; it was another to watch a living, breathing human experience her leg being stitched up like it was industrial-strength Teflon. Maura didn't seem to mind, and had been watching the process with a clinical, detached eye, as if viewing a simple demonstration. As the needle went back into her skin, Frankie pressed a closed fist over his mouth, turning away. He was met immediately with a pair of dark, but amused eyes.

"I just came to check on Doc," Frost explained, coming to a stop alongside Maura's station. Frankie sidled out of the way, allowing the detective a full look at the organized carnage playing out behind him. Frost gagged, quickly pressing a clamped fist against his mouth, much like Frankie had, and worked to keep his tone professional. "I see she's doing fine," he said, clearing his throat, which sounded as if something had snagged his windpipe.

Frankie merely chuckled at his feigned authority, more than familiar with Frost's unfortunate aversion to the bloodier side of his job. "You sure you don't want to stay with her while I check on Jane?" he heckled.

Frost's eyes flashed at him, and he glanced down once more as the physician assistant pulled the thread taut, perking the swollen, red skin. "Holy shit, it's like she's sewing her whole leg back on."

The woman with the needle looked up at him. "If she'd run any more on this fissured artery, I just might be sewing her whole leg back on," she affirmed with a chuckle.

Maura didn't seem fazed by the macabre possibility, and instead turned quickly to Frost, her eyes burning into him. "Have you heard anything about Jane? Did they take her into surgery?"

"I haven't heard anything," Frost replied, not happy at the thought of letting her down as the hazel eyes fell disappointedly. "But don't worry, Korsak and Ms. Rizzoli are pacing outside, running a groove into the floor. We don't know yet if there's been any internal bleeding. Last we heard they were just doing x-rays."

Maura's eyes narrowed, all too familiar with the sinews and sharp fragments of bone that could easily puncture an artery and transform a simple injury into a life-threatening one. It was that possibility that was solely responsible for aggravating the ball of worry that had now settled into her stomach like a small baring weight. "What's taking so long?" she asked nervously.

Frankie took a step toward her, intentionally diverting his gaze from the lower half of her body, and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure everything's fine, Maura." His words were hollow, though, as he remembered Jane's pale face as she was lifted into the back of the ambulance. His sister wasn't one to show pain, but she had looked downright miserable with agony.

In response, Maura leaned over, smiling politely at the woman working on her leg. "Excuse me, Terry, you're doing a wonderfully thorough job, but do you mind stitching just a bit faster? I'd like to find out how Detective Rizzoli is doing." She glanced up at Frankie with a conspiratorial glance. "Maybe I can get a few more answers."

"Dr. Isles, unless you want some heavier scarring than you're already going to have, I wouldn't rush this," Terry responded lightly. She gave her a sympathetic glance. "But, I do know from one of the residents that the brunette with a broken clavicle, who is currently in OR 3, is going to be just fine. Some damaged tissue due to the fracture, but nothing too serious."

Maura breathed heavily, dropping her head back against the pillow. "Oh, thank god," she said, only realizing the extent of her pent up panic when it whooshed out of her in a long, unsteady sigh.

Frankie glanced down at Terry, giving her a grateful nod. "I'm going to go relay that to Korsak and Ma," he said, placing a hand on Maura's forearm. "Don't go anywhere," he teased, attempting a small effort at levity.

Maura looked earnestly up at him before darting a confused glance at her incapacitated leg. "I won't."

Frost shook his head at Frankie, familiar with the medical examiner's predilection for misconstruing even the most blatant attempts of humor. "Nice try."

As Frankie and Frost walked towards the other end of the hallway, Maura turned her attention back to Terry's progress. She enjoyed the silence, at least for a moment, and finally averted her gaze from her leg, instead focusing on the open space just above the assistant's head. Her leg was numb, but she was beginning to think part of her mind had gone numb as well. The ride to the hospital had been more than painful, and she cringed remembering how Jane's low moans resounded in the small, enclosed space after each jostle or bump in the road. Maura hadn't let go of her hand until they reached the emergency room, when they were wheeled in separate directions, their fingers finally parting. And now she sat waiting, feeling like a mere patient; despite her comfort in the morgue, hospitals unnerved her more than any other place. The wide chasm of potential emotions that drifted through the hallways, from euphoric to downright tragic, left her on edge, exhausted.

"Alright, how about we get you to a more private space so you can relax for a little while?" Terry asked, placing a last piece of gauze on her shin before walking over a wheelchair that rested against the wall. "You won't need to stay overnight, at least not this time."

Maura caught her hand, stilling her. "I just need to go where Jane is going." She peered up at her, almost embarrassed by the neediness in her voice, but something shifted in Terry's gaze, and a different sort of awareness appeared there.

"I understand," she said, gently patting Maura's knee. "We'll get her situated right next to you once she's done, okay? Until then, we'll at least get you connected to an IV. Once this anesthetic wears off you are not going to be a happy camper."

"No," Maura said quickly. "No, can we hold off on the morphine for a little while? I just want to be alert."

Terry nodded slowly, helping her into the wheelchair with a steady hand. "Whatever you say, Dr. Isles." She helped elevate Maura's leg by moving a small lever on the chair, and directed her toward the end of the mostly empty hallway, where she wheeled her into a smaller, more private room.

"Want me to help you?" Terry asked, already lowering the bed, its mechanical hum resounding into the quietness of the room.

"No," Maura declined again, shaking her head and fidgeting with her thumb. "I'll just sit here for awhile if you don't mind." Something uncomfortable flitted in the back of her brain, irrationality that she was unused to, and despite her efforts it, wriggled to the forefront of her consciousness. Until she had her hands on Jane, or saw her again with her own eyes, she wasn't fully ready to believe that they had been so lucky as to make it out of their frightening ordeal. So far, the nightmare was still overpowering reality, at least as far as her instinct was concerned.

Terry nodded down at her, still gazing at her with a curious eye. "A nurse will be here in a little while to help you into bed. If you need anything, the call button's right here." She pointed along the bed at the familiar remote, and Maura nodded.

"Unfortunately, I know exactly where that is," she replied, hoping to effuse her tone with some lightness. It seemed to work, and she was rewarded with a small smile.

"Right," Terry said. "How could I forget, you were just here. You're the only one working towards frequent flier miles here at Mass General." She placed a small clipboard on the outside of the door. "I'll get Detective Rizzoli in here for you as soon as possible," she promised, before disappearing, leaving Maura with an overwhelming silence that was overrun with a new onslaught of anxious mental murmurings.


Frost clapped his hand on Frankie's back as they walked slowly down the wide, white hallway toward the waiting room, their steps echoing and giving them an official-sounding gait. "You know, you did pretty damn good today," he said.

"Yeah, real good," Frankie replied with a snort. Things may have turned out all right in the end, but he still felt as if his insides were a puddle of nervous, quivering mush. He didn't feel much like a hero.

Frost stopped suddenly, looking at him with a coaching eye. "Look, you can't control some things, Frankie, you know that. And as a Detective, you find that out really quickly on the job. You did the best you could with what you had to go on today."

"I just need a tougher skin, that's all," Frankie said, shrugging.

Frost scoffed. "Nah, that's not it at all," he said with a wave of his hand. "That optimism you have, that trust in people? That's your best defense against a job that will try to break that down at every turn." He affirmed his words with a sharp finger against Frankie's shoulder. "You can't lose that." He didn't wait for a response, and instead gave another clap to his shoulder before making his way down the hallway again.

Frankie felt a quick upshot of uncertain pride, straightening his shoulders and holding them a little higher as he came to a stop before his mother and Korsak, the mush inside him finally beginning to harden into something that resembled strength. "Hey, Ma, I got some news," he began.

Angela's head snapped up at him, missing the cheerfulness of his tone. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Ma, that's the news. They're just patching her up a little more, but no sign of internal bleeding or anything too serious."

Angela threw up her hands in a gesture that was meant to be thankful, but which quickly turned into balled fists of forlorn frustration. "Thank God," she said, before turning toward Frost and Korsak. "I hope this means you'll force her into medical leave for a good six months."

Korsak shrugged, darting a tentative glance at Frankie. "I'll give her all the time she needs," he assured her, more than aware of where Angela's worries stemmed from, especially considering the love he had for his own son. "The Chief will insist on it."

"I'm not talking about all the time she needs, I'm talking about all the time I need," Angela clarified, pointing a thumb at her chest. "If it were up to Jane, she'd be back at the precinct tomorrow morning, trailing another bad guy."

Korsak put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a slightly awkward pat. "Don't worry, none of us will let Jane set a foot in that building for at least a couple of weeks."

Angela wasn't pleased with the time frame, but she kept quiet, knowing that her battle was futile in front of two seasoned detectives and an aspiring one. "Why couldn't you all have been accountants?" she asked, once again tossing her hands in the air.

"Because then we'd be boring," Frankie joked, finally curling his lips into a smile. He wouldn't be fully relieved until he saw Jane in recovery, but he was starting to feel like himself again. If his mother was nagging, she was in a healthier state of mind as well, and that only served to further settle him.

"How's Maura?" Angela asked, turning fully to look at him.

"The woman's got a stomach of steel," Frost offered, cringing at the memory of the wounds on her leg. "She's fine."

Angela recalled the look of panicked worry in Maura's eyes as she had hovered over Jane outside of the warehouse, and a sudden horror dawned on her. She reached up, smacking the back of Frankie's head. "You just left her all by herself? Where is she?"

Frankie cinched away from her, frowning. "Sometimes I think she likes to be alone," he said defensively. "She's down the hallway there." He pointed, taking a step back from her and hoping to avoid another maternal knock to his scull.

"Well, I'm going to sit with her for a few minutes. If you hear anything while I'm gone – "

"Don't worry, Ma, we'll let you know."

"Poor Maura," she said, shaking her head. "Risks her life for Jane, and we leave her to get stitched up by herself."

"With all due respect, Ms. Rizzoli," Frost cut in, grimacing, "Dr. Isles was the only one of us that could handle watching it."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered, turning and making her way down the hallway, eager to offer someone a comforting arm, even if Maura wasn't the type to particularly request it.


Between Angela, Frankie, and her whole makeshift family, there had been worried birds buzzing around Maura ever since they'd arrived at the hospital. Now that she was alone, sitting in a small, private room, with only her anxiety and her pain to keep her alert, she half wished she would have taken Terry up on the dose of morphine. A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she called softly.

Angela's head poked into the room, but she didn't barge inside, a politeness that Maura wasn't used to from her. It had taken some time to acclimate to Angela's ubiquitous presence, but after awhile she had simply come to crave it, placing much more value on it than Jane ever had. There were still times, however, when she craved the insulation of her own thoughts, especially when she was attempting to sort through a whole myriad of emotions. "How you feeling?" Angela asked, her eyes swollen with distress.

Maura waved her in. "Is Jane out?"

Angela shook her head, her own disappointment mirrored in Maura's frown. "Not yet." She directed her attention to Maura's leg, which was newly bandaged, matching her newly washed face, which was now clean from ash, grime, and sweat. "You look nice and cleaned up," she appraised, taking a seat in a straight-backed check chair and pulling it closer.

Maura glanced down at her leg, as if it was its own detached compartment on her body. "Hopefully I didn't put too much pressure on the post-tibial ligament," she said. "I won't know until a couple of days from now if it's healing properly." She shrugged off the uncertainty; at this point, she was simply content to be alive. The only complications she had even thought twice about were those resulting from a broken clavicle.

"Can I get you anything?" Angela asked, looking around the bare trappings of the semi-private room, where two hospital beds sat divided only by a small, yellow curtain. "Water or juice? I found the visitor's station, with all the free juice boxes."

Maura politely declined. "No, thank you, Angela, I'm fine." Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap, and she appeared as if she was about to say something, but decided against it. Finally, she offered it up, if only to fill the quiet of the room. "My nerves are shot." She thought for a moment, shaking her head. "That expression means nothing. I'm resorting to summarizing my psychological state with trite clichés."

Angela smiled at her. "Well, I think it's perfectly fitting," she confirmed. "My nerves have been shot, frayed, wrung out and hung up to dry."

Maura raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Good use of metaphor."

Angela shrugged, leaning back in her chair and pressing a hand to her temple. "God, I'm too old for this."

Maura shook her head, misunderstanding her intention. "One's never too old for metaphor."

Angela paused, but grinned at her sincerity, however misaligned. "That was just another trite cliché," she corrected.

Maura nodded, her lips parting with the sudden awareness. "Right," she confirmed.

"I spoke with your mother," Angela offered, dropping her hand back in her lap. "She was worried."

Maura's jaw hardened as she looked up at her. "You called my mother?" she asked, aware that her tone edged on accusatory. She worked to clear her throat, modifying her voice. "I just don't want her needlessly worrying, not when she's trying to recover."

Angela looked at her with something that verged on disappointment. "Your mother called me," she corrected warmly, hoping the revelation would melt some of the coldness that permeated Maura whenever she spoke of her parents. "After she couldn't get a hold of you. I told her what happened, but explained that you were going to be absolutely fine." She stared thoughtfully at Maura. "She told me your father had finally made it to the States. I offered the guest house to them, but they said they were staying at their suite at the Ritz...?" She trailed off, unsure as to the semantics of the wealthy.

The information was surprising, but Maura knew her father had been attempting to get back into the country for the past week. He hadn't called to let her know he had arrived, but then, she hadn't had a consistent phone in a week, either. "My mother will be more comfortable there," she said with a firm, but unconvincing nod. "There was no need to worry them. I'm fine." She nodded, as if convincing herself. "I'm perfectly fine."

Angela leaned slightly forward, observing Maura as she waited for her to meet her eyes. The medical examiner was smaller than Jane, and softer, but she could be just as strong and persistent as her own daughter when she wanted to, especially when it came to Constance. It was as if she didn't want the world to see how very alone she felt at times. "Let me tell you something," she offered. "A mother is always worried on some level. There's never a passing moment when worry doesn't flutter through your mind at the thought of your child, whether it be worry that she's not eating correctly, or worry that she didn't make it to work on time." She shrugged. "We worry."

Maura smiled sadly at her. "I wouldn't know," she said quietly.

"Well, know that I worry about you," Angela said with a pat on her thigh.

"I just don't need to upset her," Maura replied calmly, reverting back to the polite tone she used when discussing her parents. "Or my father. He's probably upset enough as it is. The last thing they need is to worry about me."

"They're your parents," Angela blurted.

Maura shook her head, as if denying the fact, but Angela saw right through the gesture. "Maura, when I thought something bad had happened to you and Jane, my heart ceased to exist. I know that may not jive with your medical jargon, but I'm here to tell you my heart didn't beat again until I knew the two of you were okay. And you may not believe this, but your mother would have reacted the same way." She cocked her head. "Maybe a little more dignified." She grinned, giving Maura's leg a comforting squeeze. "We all have our ways."

"I like your ways better," Maura confessed, giving her a quick, fleeting smile.

Angela nodded, satisfied. "Maybe you could tell that to Jane, Frankie, and Tommy at least once a day?" she teased.

Before Maura could proffer her agreement, she heard the click of the door and the squeak of a gurney. Jane's wild hair splayed across the starched white pillow and Maura's eyes lit up as she was wheeled in, the orderlies shifting her onto the hospital bed with a quick ease. Jane's eyes were closed, resting peacefully, her shoulder in a deceptively complex, and quite uncomfortable-looking sling.

One of the men glanced up at Angela, who had already made her way to Jane's side. "She'll be in and out for the next fifteen minutes or so. We'll have a nurse come in and give you the full rundown in a few minutes." He waited for Angela's confirmatory nod before turning and leaving them alone again,

Maura wheeled herself over to the edge of the bed, already assessing Jane's sling and any underlying bandages with a discerning eye. "It looks as if it's just a simple orthotic and shoulder sling, which is good," she explained, looking up at Angela. "I may request that they fit her with a figure-of-eight sling instead, at least for the first couple of weeks. Studies show that it helps retain the shoulder in its upright position, perpendicular to the humerus, which aids in adequate bone aggrandizement."

"Whose talking Google is that?" Jane slurred, prompting Maura to direct a smile her way. She raised herself out of her chair, balancing on her good leg as she leaned over, getting a better look at her.

"Hi, Jane."

The dark eyes were still closed, Jane's lips pursing as if she was just on the verge of waking up from a good dream. She moaned slightly, attempting to shift in her bed, but the sudden jolt of pain in her shoulder made her stop, cringing as her eyelids fluttered. "Did I pitch a no-hitter?" she murmured.

Maura's eyebrows knitted in confusion before she understood the athletic jargon, and she shook her head slightly, unable to offer a lie, even to a half-conscious person. "No, sweetheart, you're in Western Mass General. You broke your clavicle."

"And I still let someone get a hit?" Jane asked, drowsily. "After all that?"

Rather than respond, Maura simply bent down and kissed her forehead. Jane's eyes flickered open briefly, catching her eyes. "Hello," she said breezily, unaware of the pain her body was in, thanks to the onslaught of pain medication running through her veins. Her eyes danced underneath her half-closed lids, but closed again with the effort of trying to focus.

Angela combed a few errant curls off her daughter's forehead, happy to see her eyes open, as inexpressive as they were in their current state. "Hey there, Janey," she sang softly. "You did really good in there. As usual, you're the bravest girl in the family."

"So I did pitch a no-hitter?"

"You sure did," Angela replied with a smile, prompting Maura to frown slightly at the misguidance, but the older woman simply shrugged it off with a grin. "Just take it easy for right now, and rest it off, okay? Maura and I are here with you, and Frankie, Frost, and Korsak are outside."

"Maura got a home run," Jane muttered, her head falling slowly to the side.

"I did?" Maura asked, suddenly brightening, a smile lighting up her face as she got lost in whatever foggy fantasy was permeating Jane's brain.

"There's no crying in baseball..."

Maura glanced up at Angela, slightly confused, and tacitly requesting some sort of guidance.

"This always happens when she's hazy," Angela explained. "She starts quoting from 'A League of Their Own'. After she got her wisdom teeth pulled, she almost made it through the first half of it verbatim."

"Oh," Maura nodded. "I didn't realize her love for baseball went quite that deep." She kept her fingers running along the bare skin of Jane's right arm, which lay limply by her side. Her own leg was quickly becoming fatigued, but she couldn't resist leaning down and pressing another kiss against her temple before settling back into the wheelchair.

"You smell good..." Jane muttered, her head lolling to the opposite side, as if following Maura's scent.

"I smell like ash and anesthetic," she returned, leaning forward towards the bed, but the words still sent a flicker of warmth inside her, continuously melting the iceberg of worry in her stomach. Medicated Jane was surprisingly complimentary.

"You're Maura."

"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly, darting a quick glance at Angela. "Maura Dorothea Isles." Angela raised her eyebrows, impressed, but Jane's head veered sloppily towards her, one unfocused eye popping open.

"Maura Dora," she slurred. "The explorer."

"Shh," Maura said, chuckling as she ran a calming hand over Jane's good shoulder. "Just rest."

"I'm going to update the others," Angela said, patting Jane's hand, as if making sure she would still be there when she returned. "I'll be right back." She slid out of the room quickly, leaving Maura to stare down at her sedated partner.

"I think they gave me whiskey back there," Jane mumbled. "My head hurts."

"You did experience blunt trauma to the head before the explosion, and more than likely during it as well." Maura cringed at her explanation, fully aware that it was probably less than comforting, and instead sat back in her chair, keeping hold of Jane's hand.

"You didn't leave," Jane whispered, her eyes opening briefly, before closing again. "That warehouse. I wanted you to leave, and you didn't listen to me."

Maura swallowed, not keen on recalling such a visceral memory so soon. "I would imagine there is some devotionary couples rule 'never to leave a girlfriend behind'." She sighed heavily. "I just simply couldn't leave you, Jane."

"Why?"

"Because I believe in us too much."

The explanation seemed to be enough, as Jane's eyes slipped shut once again, this time staying closed for a few minutes as exhaustion overtook her. Maura continued to sit with her, content with just her presence. Angela returned after a few moments, and Maura watching dutifully as Frankie, Korsak, and Frost rotated in and out of the room until the remnants of the pain medication began to wear off and Jane's brown eyes became more lucid.

As the light came fully back to her, Jane squinted them shut, waiting for her vision to clear. Her mother was standing at the door, talking, or more likely, nagging, a nurse. Frankie and Frost stood against a far wall, heads together, probably discussing something that involved an animated cartoon. Korsak was on the phone, employing a tone he only reserved for his Chief. Despite the pain in her shoulder, she was at least grateful to see them.

Maura sat next to her, looking slightly dazed and more than a little exhausted, but her hands still absently stroked Jane's arm, keeping up a running rhythm. "Hey," Jane said, lifting her hand and grabbing Maura's, giving it a reassuring squeeze, as if to make sure she really was sitting dutifully next to her. "God, I'm glad to see you."

"Hi," Maura returned quietly, lifting herself from her chair once again, bending over and giving Jane a light kiss on the lips before letting her hands lightly trace her jaw. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone took a swing at my shoulder with a baseball bat," Jane replied with a grimace, but looked curiously up at Maura's expression, which had morphed into a perceptive stare. "What?" she asked, afraid she was missing some inside joke, and hoping that it didn't have to do with anything she'd uttered while under the influence of morphine.

"Baseball really does permeate your subconscious mind, doesn't it?" Maura asked, gazing at her with an evaluative eye.

"I'm afraid it does, yes," Jane replied seriously, but ended up grinning, shrugging just her good shoulder. "Hope that's okay."

"Anything is okay as long as you're okay," Maura said, giving her hand another squeeze.

Jane directed her glance down at Maura's chair, shifting in her bed and lightly lifting her arm to guide the blonde back to it. "Nice wheels," she observed. "Is that more fun than you're crutches?"

Maura grinned as she settled into it. "It's more comfortable, that's for sure."

"Welcome back, partner," Frost said, kicking his leg off the wall and walking the few steps over to them. "That sling you got there is kind of badass."

Frankie nodded, joining him. "Sure is," he agreed. "You look like a half-transformed Megatron."

"Korsak talking to Cavanaugh?" Jane asked, her eyes already twitching as her brain kicked back into gear. "I'm guessing you guys will need statements soon. After all, we still have enough to put Brad away, even if Ted and Moore didn't make it out of the building." She glanced back at them. "Right? They didn't make it out?"

"No one made it out, except for the two of you," Frost replied stoically, quieting his voice as Angela walked back into the room.

"Uh-uh," Angela corrected, already more than familiar with the route their conversation was taking. "There will be no statements right now. Not until tomorrow, at least."

"Well, I for one can't wait to hear Maura's statement and how she ended up pointing a glock down at that perp." Frankie clapped Maura on the shoulder, the second such gesture she had received that week, and again she gave him an enthusiastic smile.

"What?" Jane asked, turning as much as she could to look over at Maura, surprise etching itself into her forehead. "You did what?"

Maura looked up at her, pleased as she dropped her hands excitedly into her lap, her anxiety for the moment melting away into a remembered adrenaline. "I was on my way into the warehouse to save you."

Jane shook her head slightly, confused. "I was on my way out of the warehouse to save you."

"No," Maura returned. "I was definitely going to save you."

Jane nodded, tossing her good hand in the air. "Well, you kind of did, so I can't really argue with that one. But, how did you get the gun? And what the hell did you do with it?"

Maura thought for a brief moment, unsure of how best to explain her maneuver and wishing she had something more action-oriented to offer them. "I took advantage of his psychological inadequacies."

Jane grinned, her lips parting questioningly. "What, you telepathically asked him to give you the gun?"

Maura smiled. "No, I told him that the berries he was about to eat were poisonous and then kneed him in the inguinal canal." She glanced up at Frost and Frankie, who cringed automatically, despite her usage of formal jargon.

Jane chuckled, giving her more than impressed nod. "Alright, Huckleberry Finn," she said, once again completely floored by the woman in front of her. "I'm speechless. You can certainly take care of yourself."

Before Maura could respond, a light knock sounded at the door, and a familiar face poked her head inside the room. She clenched her lips at the two of them before walking fully inside, pulling on a pair of gloves with a determined shake of her head. "If you ask me, the two of you need to consider a new line of work," she said. "But no one asks me."

Jane grinned, tossing a glance at Maura. "Hi, Rhonda. Long time, no see."

"What in sam hill are you all doing here again?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"We just loved the facilities here," Jane said with a flourish of her hand. "The sterility is quite meditative. As is the morphine."

Maura laughed, turning to grace their old nurse with a more formal greeting. "Hi Rhonda, how are you?"

"Doing better than you two are," she replied. Glancing at the group of people surrounding her, she spoke louder. "Listen, folks, I hate to kick you all out, but I'm going to have to kick you all out." She ushered them towards the door, but pointed at commanding finger at Maura. "You stay. We're going to get you back in this bed and elevate your leg for a little while. They told me you already firecrackered out of those last stitches."

"You know, Maura, little firecracker," Jane murmured, looking pleasantly over at the blonde with a small chuckle. She gave Frankie and Frost a fist bump, prompting Maura to reach up and repeat the movement with a jerky, but enthusiastic move of her arm. Korsak walked over to her, finally slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"No work for awhile, Jane, I mean it this time," he said, glancing quickly at Angela and giving her a warm smile. "At least two weeks," he called as he ducked out of the door, chuckling to himself.

Angela glared towards the door. "Two months!" she corrected, before turning back to Jane and placing a kiss on her forehead. Jane grimaced, but didn't pull away. "At least with that sling on, it's harder for you to pull away," Angela observed with a pleased smile. "We'll be right outside." She gave Rhonda a friendly nod as she closed the door behind her.

Rhonda rounded Jane's side of the bed, turning a familiar gaze to the IV beside her bed. "How's your pain level, Detective?"

Maura raised a polite finger. "Whatever she says, you should adjust for the Rizzoli Supplicatory Pain Modifier," she explained. "If she says the pain is a seven, for a normal specimen that would actually be a ten."

"Got it," Rhonda said, nodding and jerking her thumb towards Jane. "No soft spot for this one, I see." She tossed a look behind her, raising a knowing eyebrow. "Except for when it comes to you, Dr. Quinn." Catching Maura's blush, she preempted Jane's response with a knowing wave of her hand. "I know, I know," she said, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the hospital bed. "She isn't your girlfriend."

Jane felt Maura's eyes on her, and she smiled widely, looking back at Rhonda with a slight glint in her eye. "Actually," she replied, tossing a smile Maura's way. "She is." As she let the words sink in, she felt them fill a final place in her heart that she had reserved for Maura since the first day they met.


I still don't think we're done here. This meandering one-shot needs a couple more chapters, no? Let me hear from you :)

Cat and Ren, thanks for the guidance and read-through!