What if…

Chapter 4:…Hoyt got away

Approaching the stream, Gabriel steadied Rizzoli as they navigated the embankment. Momentarily losing her footing, Jane reached out for support. "Shit," she breathed as her hands made contact with Dean. She felt the scalpel push further through her hand. Tears sprung to her eyes.

"Easy," he whispered into her ear, grasping her forearms to remove the pressure from her hands. Helping her the rest of the way down to the water front, he eased her down onto a large rock. Gently cradling each hand in his, he inspected the makeshift bandages. Blood was soaked through both sides on both hands.

"I think we should take the scalpel out," she said with more certainty than she felt. "I just felt it move again, and it can't be doing much good if it's moving."

Gabriel squinted his eyes as he deliberated. Both hands seemed to be bleeding at the same rate now, the blade wasn't doing much good blocking the wound. And if she was right, that it was moving, it was likely doing more damage. "Ok," he finally said and gently unwrapped her left hand. The flesh was red and swollen, clearly infected. They had both had taken self-aid and field care training. The wounds had been left untreated for too long, even when they made it to medical treatment, sutures might be out of the question.

"What if they can't be fixed this time?" Jane asked. "What if I can never fire a gun again?"

He detected a small waver in her voice. "We can't think like that," Dean encouraged her. "We'll be out of here within the hour." Pausing he looked around and saw a few sticks close by. "Do you want to bite down on something? This might be worse than before."

Considering his words, Rizzoli nodded. It was a miracle that she hadn't screamed when she pulled the first blade out. She couldn't afford to signal their location if Hoyt was anywhere near them.

Unconvinced a stick would do the trick, Gabriel unbuckled his leather belt and slide it off in one swift motion.

"You're pretty good at that," Jane noted with a slight smile.

"You should see me work a bra," he responded smiling back. Offering the end of the belt, she opened her mouth and bit down. Her breathing sped up and she began to shake. "Deep breaths through the nose," he instructed breathing with her. The last thing she needed was to hyperventilate. Convinced her breathing was under control, he gripped the blade side and decided it was best to pull the handle through and not the sharp end that could cut undamaged nerves or tendons. "Jane, I'm not sure we should do this…both ends are dirty, I could be introducing new bacteria to the tissue…" He grabbed the belt to let her speak, it was her decision.

"Out," she breathed. "I need it out."

Nodding his understanding, he replaced the belt and steeled himself. With as swift and smooth a motion he could achieve, the scalpel moved through the battered hand and brought with it a gush of blood and a moan of pain. Jane leaned her head forward against his shoulder trying to breathe through the pain while Gabriel traced circles on her back with his hand. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered in her ear, holding her. His mind wandered to the late night coffee they had shared and how excited he was at the promise of a relationship with such a strong, funny and caring person. Today, he wondered how they would ever move forward from what must have been the worst night of her life. What if he had gotten the FBI more involved, could he had stopped Hoyt's escape? What if she could never be in the same room with him again without thinking of pain and humiliation?

He felt her shift back, having composed herself. "Ready to try some water?" he asked knowing if he was thirsty she had to be parched. With little effort, he helped her stand and move closer to the stream. He maneuvered her as close to the bank as he could and eased her down onto a soft patch of moss. As she folded her long legs to sit cross legged, she was able to rest her forearms on her knees, letting her hands hang limply. Moving into the water, Gabriel noted the blood soaked shirt he was wearing, and then looked down at his blood encrusted hands. Different layers of blood coated each hand and he looked like he had been in a war zone. Stooping down, he tried to clean himself up as best he could and moved to sit next to her. Scooping water up with both hands, he leaned closer to her allowing her to sip the cool liquid at her own pace.

Repeating the process several times, he couldn't help but feel as if this moment had been the most intimate moment he had ever shared with another person. In the stillness of the woods, the soothing sound of the water meandering through a slow current, Gabriel paused to give Jane a moment's rest. Glancing down toward her hand, thinking about re-bandaging, be froze. "You're bleeding," he said, his voice quiet but intense.

Rizzoli was taken aback. Of course she was bleeding. Her hands had been bleeding for hours now. Her brow crinkled in confusion as she followed his gaze. With horror, her eyes settled on her inner thigh. A stream of blood had trickled down. Moments, nightmare moments, flashed through her thoughts in rapid fire. So much of what happened was lost to unconsciousness, but they couldn't be denied. "Did they both?" she asked with more strength than she felt.

He swallowed, unfortunately, he had been conscious for every grueling second in the apartment. He shook his head as he willed back the tears. "No, just the apprentice," he confirmed.

Before another word could be spoke, Jane's eyes widen with a start. Movement. Agent Dean quickly shielded her with his body as he turned to face whatever it was that caused her to react. He reached for the gun and aimed in the general direction while she scanned the horizon. He saw it too. A flash of black flitting through gaps in the trees. Then another. And another. Quickly it sunk in, the cavalry had arrived. "Here!" he shouted once he saw a gold badge gleam on a uniformed chest.

Jane breathed out in relief, and leaned her forehead between his shoulder blades. In mere heartbeats, four cops surrounded them. She knew them all, and at first, she avoided their gaze while she heard one talking into his radio, "Bravo team has located Detective Rizzoli and Agent Dean. Twenty-six degrees northwest of our starting location. We need EMS to meet us at rally point Delta."

She needed to meet their eyes as equals not a victim. Finally, looking up, making eye contact with the most seasoned officer, relief flooded over her. They only emotion she could detect was respect. Looking at the other three she saw pride and relief.

The older officer moved to meet her, crouching to eye level, and Gabriel moved to give him some room. Before he spoke, he was removing his Kevlar vest. "Detective Rizzoli, I'm not sure if you remember me," he started.

She nodded, "Of course. Sergeant Burke."

"We're going to get you out of here, but I'd like you to put this on," he instructed handing the vest to Agent Dean.

He'd clearly known her injuries would make it impossible to manipulate the velcro, but the reason why he would offer up his vest to her distracted her from any other thought. "He's still out here," she said in hushed tones.

He shook his head, "We're still searching for the suspect, for Hoyt. We have to assume you'd be a target if he's close."

Nodding her head, she allowed Gabriel to slip the armor over her head, and tried to move her arms enough for him to readjust the straps. "What about you Sergeant?" she asked, not able to bear the thought if someone died because they sacrificed for her.

"We've only got about a mile to walk to get you in an ambulance and on your way. I'll take my chances with this team," he said nodding toward the other officers.

With the attention back on the uniforms flanking the detective and FBI agent, one stepped forward with a canteen and a small first aid kit. "There's not much in the kit, but you can dress the wounds, we can secure the area until you're both ready."

Agent Dean nodded, taking the offered items as Jane thanked them all for their actions. Then the four officers moved out in either direction, giving the pair some space. Gabriel opened the kit to take inventory of the supplies. If he had been in starring in a movie, he imagined a heavenly melody playing when he spotted some antiseptic and gauze. "This might sting," he told her opening one of the white packets.

Nodding in understanding, she looked away. The brash detective issued a string of f-words, each one conjugated in ways Dean had never heard before. She caught one of the younger officers smirk despite the situation. Once her left hand was professionally dressed, Gabriel unwrapped her right hand and repeated the process. So did Jane.

"Those are brand new words, Detective," Sergeant Burke said with amusement touching his words.

"That's how we roll in Homicide," she returned before taking some sips of water from the offered canteen. "You need water too," she told Gabriel. "And some first aid on that head laceration."

He drank the water, but closed up the first aid kit, more concerned about getting Jane in the hands of qualified medical personnel than taking care of his superficial cuts. "Ready?" he asked her.

Sensing it was time, the men surrounding them snapped to attention and closed in around the pair they were determined to protect and lead to safety. Gabriel braced Jane under the elbows and lifted her small frame up with one swift motion. She wobbled slightly, feeling light headed. Likely a combination of the sudden movement and the low blood pressure from the loss of blood. Once she was steady on her feet, Dean released her arms and the men moved in a diamond formation around the exhausted pair.

-/-

Maura paced back and forth along the dirt road. Five minutes was all it had taken Korsak to drive them both to the designated rally point. The ambulance arrived shortly after they had and several officers had arrived at staggered intervals. They would all confirm their fellow officer was safe before rejoining the rest of the Boston Police Department and FBI agents that were still searching for the fugitive that had demanded all hands on deck.

Finally, Maura saw movement. It was all she needed to send her forward in a dead sprint. "Jane!" Maura yelled now making out six figures weaving through the brush. Everything moved in slow motion as her brain was flooded with adrenalin.

Seeing Maura in the distance, Jane's body slowly started shutting down. She could stop pushing her body to its limit, her friends were there. Stopping her movement, Gabriel attempted to steady her, but she was already sinking to her knees so he moved with her, comforting her along the way. Once they were sitting on the forest floor, she leaned against his chest, her entire body relaxing.

By the time Maura reached Jane, she was almost unconscious. "Jane, keep your eyes open, stay with us," she pleaded. Her friend's eyes fluttered shut and then snapped open. She would do her best to obey Dr. Isles. "She's in shock, we need to get her to the hospital," Maura told Agent Dean who acted swiftly, ignoring the weak protests, he scooped the injured woman up into his arms and ran toward the ambulance waiting on the trail with doors open.

The gurney's wheels hit the ground before the patient arrived. Gabriel gently eased Jane down and backed away to give the EMTs room to work. As he moved back, Korsak, Frost and Maura all moved forward, unintentionally forming a line of concern, each were helpless to do anything other than look on and let the professionals do their jobs.

"We need a line…"

"…pupils equal and reactive…"

"…BP 85 over 50…"

Maura's hand covered her mouth. The blood pressure was dangerously low.

A thermal blanket was tucked under Jane's arms and around her torso and legs. With ease, she was loaded into the rig, but Korsak stepped forward before the doors shut. "We need a uniform with her, she's still in danger and needs 24 hour guard."

The lead paramedic nodded consent, "We can take one, but they need to stay out of our way if she crashes."

Nodding, Korsak turned to the sea of police officers that had gathered. Almost as a unit, they all stepped forward. Vince pointed to the sergeant that had been in charge of the team that recovered the fallen detective. "Burke, don't let her out of your sight," he said watching the older sergeant give a determined shake of the head and stepped into the ambulance. Korsak closed the doors and pounded twice on the metal signaling the all clear to the driver.

No one spoke a word until the lights were out of sight. Then, Vince turned to the small crowd. "Everyone, rejoin your teams, we have a fugitive to apprehend," he instructed and turned toward the three people still standing in line, looking much worse for the wear. "Agent Dean, we've got another EMS crew near the primary crime scene. Should I summon it?" he asked.

Gabriel shook his head, "No, everything is superficial. I'd like to help find Hoyt if you have a spot for me?"

The older detective assessed the young agent and finally softened. "We could use you at the crime scene. Help us fill in the blanks. I'll take you there," he said pointing to the sedan ten feet away then he turned to address his friends. "Maura, Frost, go to the hospital. The family needs to be notified and the security detail needs to be coordinate."

Two people had never looked so relieved. Exchanging glances with Korsak and Dean, they all moved to their respective vehicles.

-/-

The two men sat in silence, neither one knowing what to say to the other. Agent Dean scanned the tree line, knowing it was foolish to think Hoyt would be foolish enough to have stayed in the reserve. He was long gone.

He looked at the clock that glowed 1:46. The timeline was sketchy for him and he tried to work out the order of events. Coffee, 11:00 pm. Watching her fall asleep, 12:30 am. Glass breaks, 1:45 am. Agonizing wait for Jane to come to, at least an hour, so 2:45 am. Scalpel one, 3:00 am. Scalpel two, 3:05 am. His darkest hour, 4:05 am. Jane coming to again, eternity. His own blackness of unconsciousness, close to sunrise, 6:15 am. Then he had to back up to figure out the rest of the timeline. It was 1:46. Twenty minute walk from the stream, 1:26 pm. Removal of scalpel one, 1:06 pm. Running for their lives, 11:00 am. Murder of John Stark, 10:45 am. Removal of scalpel two, 10:15 am. So driving aimlessly around the city, looking for an escape route, four hours. The thought weighed heavy on him. Four hours she rolled around in the back of the van. Waiting for him to wake up. Four hours she tried to think of an escape route, considering scalpel one and two embedded in her hands. Four hours she was forced to silently relive the previous four hours, anticipating her last hours of life.

Guilt burned deep inside him.

"She's going to push you away," Korsak said, breaking the silence. "She's never told me why, but ever since I was with her in the basement the first time, she avoids me."

The comment hung in the air.

"You can't let her. I thought she just needed space and she'd come around. The space just made it worse," he offered.

Gabriel nodded, thankful for the advice. He was at a lost for what he should do. He was a newcomer to her life, and his instinct was to let those who knew her best step in and comfort her. "Thanks," he finally said, genuinely grateful for the olive branch the older man had extended. "She's...the whole time, she cared more about what happened to me than what happened to her."

"That's Detective Jane Rizzoli for you," Vince said, not bothering to hide the sadness that laced his words. They drove in silence the rest of the way to the crime scene.

Agent Dean saw the black van appear as they rounded a bumpy curve. He looked at the clock again. 2:15 pm. Three and half hours ago they had stood their ground there. Stepping out, the agent walked around the front of the van, the body was gone, but yellow markers littered the ground. He was mildly surprised to see the markers lead toward the tree at the edge of the road. The team was competent. The fact that he was standing there and not still walking through the woods was a testament to that fact, the scene management merely confirmed it.

Vince Korsak came up behind him. "BPD have secured this scene, we turned Jane's apartment over to the FBI. We could use a walk through here and a statement back at the station when you're ready," he said.

Agent Dean moved back to the van, pointed to the duct tape in the corner, "I was there. They used duct tape around my hands, legs, and ankles like the other victims. They got cocky with her. They left the scalpels in her hands and must have thought she wouldn't be a threat so they never replaced her bindings," Dean paused and looked at the sergeant detective. "She pulled the scalpel right out of her hand with her teeth and then used it to cut me free."

Each man looked into the van, imaging the strength and determination such an action required.

"I had to leave the tape on my mouth. Our only advantage was surprise," he continued to explain. "We had to wait maybe 30 minutes before we stopped here. Hoyt pulled Jane out of the van. I couldn't see anything, but heard what was happening." He paused, haunted by the events. "Hoyt left to find a place to bring us. I waited until Jane could signal me that Hoyt was out of sight. I heard some scuffling, but couldn't risk moving too soon. Finally, I heard Stark yell in pain and knew she was fighting back. When I got out of the van, he had her pinned against the tree. I subdued him and we ran."

Korsak nodded. It was a very sterile recounting of events. Professional, guarded. John Stark's cause of death was preliminary found to be a broken neck. Dr. Isles had brought in Dr. Pike, but had issued a string of orders regarding the autopsy. Vince suspected Pike was too afraid to draw definitive conclusions without the approval of the chief ME.

"Any leads on Hoyt?" the agent asked.

Korsak shook his head, "No, we're expanding the search. The area has been pretty thoroughly canvased. I think the FBI will take over that search. We don't have the manpower to search indefinitely."

-/-

Hoyt moved through alley ways, trying to stay in the shadows. When he had returned to the van and saw the body he knew his opportunity had been squandered. Why had be underestimated his Jane? The two were on foot, but likely armed. There was no reason to risk getting caught and he ran to the only person he knew could help him in the city, Emily Stern.

Finally seeing his destination across the street, he hugged the side of house before crossing the street. He hadn't seen a patrol car in about 30 minutes and was feeling confident that they had decided to clear the area and focused their attention elsewhere.

Quickly crossing the street, he moved a lose board covering a basement window. A musty smell hit his senses, but it was better than prison. Slipping through the window, he landed on a large freezer chest. Knowing its contents he smiled. Round three would be fun, but he needed to be patient.