A/N: Should I have added a warning in the first chapter that this story contains a major character death?

What..? Wait! No! Don't throw stuff at me.. I'm kidding..maybe.. a little.. well..


With blue lights flashing and sirens wailing, several police cars and two unmarked sedans sped through an otherwise quiet residential area in West Roxbury and came to an abrupt standstill in front of the rather unassuming detached house at 343 Stratford Street. The doors of the cars flew open and Jane, Frost, and Korsak as well as half a dozen backup officers jumped out of their vehicles and circled the house, their guns drawn and their bodies protected by bulletproof vests.

At the forefront of the squad, Jane and Frost stormed the property's front yard, while Korsak remained a few steps behind to coordinate the rest of the team. When the two detectives reached the wooden porch, their faces highly alert and filled with determination, they suddenly paused in unison.

"You smell that?" the brunette frowned at her partner.

"Yeah," Frost nodded. Without losing valuable time, he took two steps backwards, then launched towards the front door and busted it open.

Billows of smoke instantly escaped from the house as the smell of burning acids lingered in the air. Clutching their guns, ready to shoot at whoever might be lurking inside, Jane and Frost stepped into the house's claustrophobic entrance area and routinely backed each other while cautiously advancing into the adjacent rooms. Two of the other squad members controlled the narrow strips of grass to the left and right of the house, while a third officer stood guard at the door.

Inside, Frost peeked into the deserted kitchen to his left. "Clear," he announced before heading towards the source of the fire. With well-rehearsed moves, he and Jane slid into the smoke-filled living room, where the flames had begun to devour the furniture and cast an interplay of dancing lights and shadows at the walls.

Suddenly, Frost froze as he spotted the motionless body at the far end of the room. "Jane…," he gasped and pointed towards the corner.

At the sight of Maura on the floor surrounded by voracious flames, Jane's heart skipped several beats and she hurried towards the blonde. "Maura?!"

While Frost and the rest of the squad checked the other rooms, Jane anxiously reached for Maura's pulse. When she felt the faint rhythm of the medical examiner's beating heart, her panic instantly gave way to firm determination to get Maura out safe and alive. Just keep breathing, Maura. Keep breathing. Nervously glancing at the flames around them, the detective carefully let her hand wander over the blonde's bleeding abdomen and pressed it onto the wound to stop the still steady flow of blood trickling out of her friend's body.

Seconds later, Frost darted back into the living room and worriedly noticed Jane cradling Maura's body as she was trying to protect her from the flames. "Is she…?"

"She's alive," Jane sighed. "Where is that damn ambulance?"

"They're on their way," he replied and rushed to the two women, took off his jacket, and smothered the flames closest to Maura.

"We need to get her out of here," Jane urged.

Frost eagerly knelt down next to Maura, carefully slid his arms under her body, and lifted her up. With Jane right at his side, never letting her friend out of sight, he carried the blonde out of the house and towards the driveway, where an ambulance had just arrived.

Two EMTs jumped out and immediately helped Frost with Maura still on his arms inside the vehicle's back, while Jane quietly watched from a few feet away. Her partner gently laid the blonde onto the gurney and climbed back outside to give the EMTs sufficient space to do their job.

Still shaken by their last-minute rescue efforts, the young detective stumbled towards Jane. Together, they observed in silence how the EMTs slid an oxygen mask over Maura's pale face, covered her bleeding wound with a patch of gauze, and removed the zip cuffs from her blood-smeared hands before putting her on an IV and closely monitoring her vital signs.

As Jane and Frost stood rooted to the ground, hoping for a sign of life from their friend in the ambulance, neither of them noticed or cared about the flurry of activity unfolding around the burning house — cops sealing off the area, curious neighbors gathering nearby, fire trucks pushing their way through the chaos.

Agitatedly, Korsak joined his two colleagues and comfortingly stroked Jane's back upon noticing the EMTs still fighting for Maura's life in the ambulance.

"Looks like he got away," the sergeant reluctantly admitted. "As soon as we have the flames under control, CSRU will work the scene. We'll find that sicko, Jane."

"Uh huh…," Jane nodded even though none of Korsak's words had really registered with her mind. Her eyes and thoughts were fully fixated on her still unconscious friend in the ambulance. Just give me a sign, Maura. Just open your eyes


More than two hours after Maura's rescue, Jane was still nervously pacing the lounge next to the emergency room, waiting for news from the doctors. Her friend's condition had been critical during the ride to the hospital, but a nurse had assured Jane that they'd do their best. And since Korsak had stayed at the scene in West Roxbury and Frost was currently roaming the hospital hallways on a mission to find some decent coffee, Jane was left by herself, with ashen soot particles still covering her clothes, and couldn't do anything but wait. Yet again. If it takes longer, that's good, isn't it? Short means they couldn't do anything; long means they're fixing her. Right? She anxiously glanced at the clock above the doors to the ER that kept ticking in utter indifference. Geez, stop freaking out! We've saved her. Of course, she'll be fine.

Just when Jane's thoughts threatened to spin out of control, Frost reappeared at the far end of the hallway. He was balancing two styrofoam cups of coffee in one hand and holding his cell phone to his ear with the other. A few steps later, he ended the call with a quick "okay, thanks" and worriedly looked at Jane. "Still no word?"

Jane just shook her head.

Knowing perfectly well that his partner would welcome any distraction at this point, Frost handed her one of the cups, then sat down on a couch in the waiting area and signaled Jane to join him. With an impatient sigh, the brunette plopped down next to him and ran her fingers through her curly hair before sipping her coffee.

"Eww," Jane grimaced and almost spat out the lukewarm brew. "Is this coffee or a sneaky plot to keep their gastroenterologists busy?"

"Sorry, I only found this one vending machine," Frost apologized and pulled his small tablet PC out of his grime-stained jacket. "Korsak said he got a BOLO out for John Christle, and every available unit is searching the West Roxbury neighborhood. They also found Dr. Isles' car in the garage, and CSRU just got started in the house."

"What about that stolen car?" Jane asked.

"Wasn't there," Frost explained. "Maybe the guy dumped it when it was all over the news on TV. That's why he had to take Dr. Isles' car." The young detective opened the files with the Christles' profiles on his tablet. "So, Darlene Christle, the woman who died in that house ten months ago — she and her husband apparently had some issues, and while she was bleeding to death the night of the burglary, he was enjoying himself banging his mistress at his other apartment in town."

Jane arched her eyebrows in disgust. "Lovely…"

"Police received a phone call from an unidentified man that night stuttering something about a woman bleeding to death," Frost read from his display. "But the caller didn't provide enough details and called from a pay phone a few blocks away from Stratford Street. The team on the case thought it could've been the husband, but his alibi checked out. He and his lover had been caught on a public surveillance camera—"

"Maybe a kill-for-hire scheme? Wouldn't be the first time someone tries this…," Jane suggested.

"That's what they thought, too, but there wasn't enough evidence. Darlene Christle had been stabbed with her own kitchen knife, and everything looked like she had interrupted a regular burglar," Frost sighed. "So, eventually, John Christle got released and inherited the house, but he also kept his apartment. We've already sent a unit there, but the place has been deserted for at least a week."

"Yeah, because he's been busy killing off women in that house…," the brunette grunted and peeked at the files on her partner's display.

"But why?" Frost wondered.

"Maybe he's on some sort of guilt trip," Jane mused. "Thinks he can recreate the events of the night and change the outcome?"

Before they could dig deeper, a surgeon in blue scrubs emerged from the doors to the ER and greeted them with a comforting smile.

Jane jumped to her feet and subconsciously held her breath. "How is she?"

"She's stable," the doctor assured her. "She's lost a lot of blood from the subdermal laceration, but no vital organs were cut. She also has a concussion and minor bruises, but there won't be any permanent injuries."

Both detectives let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"However, after what she's been through, there may be certain repercussions," the doctor quickly added.

"I know," Jane sadly bit her lip as she was reminded of her own mental scars from her tedious fights against Charles Hoyt. "Can we see her?"

"Yes, though she'll probably be sleeping. Come with me!" The doctor turned around and headed towards an adjacent ward. Jane was about to follow him, when Frost held her back.

"Uh, Jane, how about you go check on Maura, and I'll get in touch with Korsak again?" he suggested.

"Okay. Thanks, Frost," Jane nodded and a hint of unbridled anger flashed over her face. "Don't let that bastard get away!"

The two detectives exchanged supportive looks before parting into opposite directions.

Just a few steps down the hall, Jane and the doctor reached their destination. The brunette nervously rubbed her scarred hands and looked through the glass window into Maura's room. Except for a night lamp above the bed, the room was barely lit. The blonde lay on her side, eyes closed and breathing calmly, an IV feeding her body with the fluids it so urgently needed. With the exception of her right temple, which had taken on various shades of purple and blue, Maura still looked as pale as a ghost.

For a moment, Jane let her eyes rest on her sleeping friend. At the end of a long, hard day at BPD — even a particularly exhausting one like today —, the presence of the medical examiner would usually make her feel more at ease, but right now, the sight of Maura's fragile figure only heightened her own vulnerability.

When the doctor noticed the detective's hesitation, he gently put his hand on her arm. "She'll be fine. But if you'd like to stay overnight, I'll let the nurse know."

"Yes, I'll stay," Jane declared. "We'll also place a uniform outside her room. Whoever did this is still out there, and we just don't want to take any risk."

"No problem, Detective. Just let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"Thank you."

After the doctor had disappeared to attend to his other patients, Jane quietly snuck into Maura's room. She tiptoed to the chair next to her bed, grabbed two spare pillows from a gurney at the wall, and sank down with a sigh.

At least for a little while, the ruthless rhythm of the past few days had slowed down, and as she just sat there and watched Maura sleep, the waves of adrenaline still surging through Jane's veins finally began to subside. She's fine, she's fine. Everything's gonna be okay, she repeated to herself and reached for Maura's hand as if feeling the blonde's physical presence would give more emphasis to the soothing mantra running through her mind. Just relax and breathe.

When she felt the other woman's fingers twitch in her hand, Jane looked up and found Maura awake, squinting at her from tired eyes.

"Hey," Jane whispered.

"You look terrible," Maura noted, always more concerned with the well-being of those around her than with her own.

Jane couldn't help but chuckle in relief. "Yeah, have a look at yourself," she retorted with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone's playing bongos on my prefrontal lobes," Maura whimpered.

"Sorry," Jane sympathetically studied the blonde's face and softly brushed her arm. "We got your message in the photos. That was brilliant, Maura."

"I thought so, too," Maura agreed and tried to crack a smile.

The detective carefully wiped a strand of hair from the medical examiner's face as if she could thereby make her headache go away. "Sometimes, I love that smart brain of yours."

Though she could barely keep her eyes open, Maura still needed to get one question off her chest. "Did you get him?"

"Not yet," Jane hung her head, wishing she had a different answer for her friend. "He set the house on fire and escaped through the back before we even got in. He's still at large, but every cop out there is looking for him."

Despite Maura's best attempts to hide the fear crawling up her spine, Jane instantly sensed what was going through the medical examiner's mind. "Don't worry, you're safe here. We're putting someone outside of your room to make sure no one gets to you."

The detective punched the pillows on her chair and stuffed them behind her back. "And I'll stay, too." She curled up into the chair and rested her head on the pillows right opposite Maura's head on the bed. "Compared to that orange monstrosity of a chair in your office, this one here's a real winner."

A smile of relief played on Maura's lips as she remembered the first time Jane had vainly attempted to find a comfortable seating position in her office chair. As Jane caught the blonde watching her, their eyes locked and for a brief moment, everything else was forgotten. For now, it was just the two of them reunited in the small hospital room.

"Thank you for saving me, Jane," Maura finally whispered.

"Anytime," Jane assured her and protectively enclosed Maura's hand in her own.

Without the need for further words, they held each other's gaze until the stress and anguishes of the past few days finally took their toll and both women synchronously drifted off into a dreamless sleep.