What if...
Chapter 6:…recovery doesn't go as planned
Korsak breezed through the BPD headquarters' lobby, his heart racing as he chased the first real lead they'd turned up since the nightmare began. As he reached the door, he came face to face with Agent Dean. "You're gonna wanna come with me," he said quickly.
Without question Gabriel turned around and followed the detective to his car. It wasn't until they had settled into the sedan and had started moving before the agent spoke. "What did you turn up?"
"There was a car that had been reported stolen by some campers. They didn't know it was gone until today, 'cause they parked it at the ranger station and hiked in," Korsak explained. "A beat cop just found it in an alley 25 miles away from the state park. CSU is meeting me there."
Nodding, Dean watched the landscape fly past his window. Colors blurred like an old movie player that had reached the end of its reel and was hopelessly flicking around and around waiting for someone to come along and stop the wild movements. He wished someone would come a long and stop his current nightmare. Images were burned into his mind he doubted he would be able remove. Even among his various tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, nothing had impacted him so personally, so viscerally. Watching someone die instantly from a bullet or well-coordinated missile strike seemed more humane than what had happened in Jane Rizzoli's apartment. You didn't see a sniper bullet speed toward you. A missile dropped from nowhere out of the sky. In these cases the brain didn't have time to even register the fate leveled on it.
Before that night, Gabriel had been infatuated by the Detective Jane Rizzoli he had read about in case files. Then the Jane Rizzoli who sprang to life in front of him throughout the investigation. He felt like he knew her before they met in West Roxbury, and then he thought he was getting to know her before Hoyt and Stark had shown up. When she offered her hands up to the serial killer, to spare him, he knew he was right about his profile. She was selfless. A protector. He wasn't surprised by her choices, he had spent his own time trying to bargain with Hoyt. Offering himself up to spare Jane before she regained consciousness. He had known then that the efforts were fruitless, but he innately knew she would do the same for him.
While their ordeal had drawn two law enforcement professionals together he was left with uncertainty about any personal relationship. With the recovery Jane was about to begin, with her sexual assault, he had no intention to broach the subject. The only plan that would respect that recovery was to be available when needed, when wanted, but cast his own needs aside.
Working with Angela Rizzoli had given him an opportunity to build the relationships around Jane. To ease into her life and hopefully, for her to ease her back into her life. In truth, he couldn't help but feel grateful he could be useful to the family. As they drove toward their secondary crime scene, the FBI was working with the US Marshalls to establish a new apartment for Jane, without a paper trail. He would make it as hard as he could for Hoyt to track her down again. He had even arranged for movers to take care of the packing and unpacking, sparing her friends and family from seeing Hoyt's aftermath.
"You ok?" Korsak's question interrupted the agent's thoughts who hadn't noticed they had parked along a residential street.
Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the offending memories, he opened the door, but was stopped by the detective still sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle. "Hey, I may not know exactly what you're going through, but that night I found Jane in the basement with…that night I shot Hoyt. It was the worst night of my life, I couldn't help her, I just had to sit with her while she shook with pain, waiting for backup and the paramedics," he explained. "Jane, she's resilient, she'll make it, and we just need to be there for her. If you need to talk..."
The offer hung in the air. "I appreciate that," was all the stoic agent could muster. With the "bonding" over, each man stepped out and moved toward the car that was flanked by two beat cops.
-/-
Vince Korsak stood, unmoving outside the hospital room door. The sergeant on duty didn't say a word, and did his best Royal Guard impression he could. The detective wasn't making a personal call, he was there on business—someone needed to take Jane's statement. He knew nothing would make this particular responsibility easier, but he couldn't help but think the task wouldn't be quite so daunting had he visited as a friend first. He had been so focused on the case, this was the first chance he had gotten to visit. Truth be told, the only reason he had been able to make the time was because it was part of the case. A huge part of the case that had been incomplete for far too long.
Slowly, he raised his hand and rapped once on the door. Part of him hoped she was sleeping and hadn't heard him. Opening the door a crack he saw the bed was empty, covers thrown back. Before he could turn back to the officer, the door across the room opened and a nurse helped Jane out of the bathroom and back to her bed. The activity seemed to be taking its toll on the injured woman as she breathed heavily, as if she just ran a 10K. Perspiration created a light sheen on her forehead. And there were no protests as the nurse helped her settle back in bed.
Korsak waited a respectful distance, allowing his friend to compose herself while the nurse took her vitals and noted them in a chart. Once the pair were alone, he moved forward. "Hey Jane, how you feelin'?" he asked, not sure what else to say.
"I think I miss that catheter," she muttered with a crooked smile. "I'm not sure what that says about how I feel."
Taking his note pad out, Vince settled himself in the closest chair. Before he could speak, Jane interrupted. "Looks like you drew the short straw?" she said, clearly aware of the reason for his visit.
"Actually, I volunteered. I figure our partnership was already—"
"—Vince—"
"No, Jane, we've been down this road together before. I thought it would be best if I were the one. I thought I could protect you too," he offered sincerely.
Smiling, Jane reached out to him, but grimaced noting the mitten of gauze and tape keeping her from making contact. Vince offered a pat on her knee and grabbed a pen.
"I guess I don't know where to start?" she said.
"At the beginning," he had offered the same advice to countless victims, and hated himself for thinking of her as a victim. As she walked him through the sequence of events, they both maintained a detached, professional demeanor, until she paused.
Vince looked up to see her struggling with an unseen assailant. "You passed out after he stabbed you with the second scalpel," he repeated, trying to prompt her on to what happened next. He was afraid he knew what happened next.
"When I came to, the apprentice, Stark, was on top of me, he was…" she trailed off. She knew he knew what had happened. It didn't make it any easier to admit aloud.
It took all of Korsak's self-control to continue the interview. The best course of action, he decided, was to remain silent, allow her to work it out.
"He raped me, and then he choked me once he figured out I was awake again…I guess he didn't like his women awake and conscious," she said as quickly as she could, like trying to rip a Band-Aid off.
Her words drew his attention to the bruises on her neck. The details provided context to her injuries now, and they told a story all on their own. The rest of her statement filled in the blanks left from Agent Dean's statement while he was unconscious and then corroborated the rest of his interview. When she was done, they both looked exhausted.
Vince cleared his throat, "Jane, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"Just get the bastard," she said in a breath.
He nodded, "We're working on it. We've tracked him down to a car abandoned off highway one near Dorchester. The search party has concentrated their efforts there." She leaned heavily back on her pillow, suddenly feeling drained of all energy. "I saw your family in the waiting area, Agent Dean is with them. Want me to send them down or send them home?" he asked her.
"Tell them I'm going to sleep for a while. It won't be that interesting if they want to go home, but they're welcome to stay," her noncommittal attitude spoke volumes.
Standing, he leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. She felt warm, but he remembered the exertion he witnessed when he arrived and wondered if she was still responding to energy required to move from the bed to bathroom and back again. He'd tell the nurse anyway. As he pulled away, she was drifting into sleep and he slipped out of the room.
-/-
"Detective Rizzoli, can you hear me?" Dr. Elliot's voice drifted through a haze that consumed Jane. She wanted to ignore the voice. She wanted to swat it away like a fly that didn't know when to quit.
She tried to open her eyes, but the light hurt. The brief glimpse she was able to get of her surroundings had been filled with people. Nurses had joined the young doctor. In the background, her mother was being comforted by her dad; Frankie hovered near the pair. She even thought she saw Gabriel in the corner, standing back from the family members. Opening her eyes again, she saw Maura take a step closer.
"Jane, that's it, stay with us," Dr. Elliot encouraged.
"Temperature is 102 degrees, heart rate 90, respiratory rate 23," a disembodied voice reported. Jane knew the temperature was not good, but had no idea if the heart rate or respiratory rate were normal. She didn't feel normal.
"Get a white blood cell count," Maura couldn't help but interject.
"Nurse Benson, draw some blood," Dr. Elliot ordered, she seemed unphased by Dr. Isles' intrusion.
The pain of the needle prick brought Jane back from the edge of darkness. Her eyes opened trying to focus somewhere. With some relief, the doctor's face moved into her field of vision, blocking out any other distractions.
"Jane, listen, you're experiencing a complication called endotoxin sepsis. As the antibiotics are killing the bacteria, the dead cells are releasing a toxin. We're going to get your vitals stabilized and you'll feel better, but I need you to try and stay with us, ok?" she spoke with clinical professionalism, and lighthouse in the midst of the storm. Jane didn't understand everything she was saying, but her voice demanded her attention.
"Cold," was all Jane could say in response.
The doctor nodded, "You've got a high fever. We're going to regulate your temperature as quickly as we can and get some fluids and steroids in you." Silence descended on the room as the medical team moved as if choreographed.
Jane wanted to comfort her friends and family but used all her strength to keep her old friend, the darkness, at bay. More than anything, she wanted to draw on the calming presence of Maura and Gabriel. Finally risking a glance at the group huddled out of the way, she met Maura's eyes.
Finding an opening the ME moved closer to her friend and saw the fear in Jane's eyes. "Jane, you're going to be okay," she said. "They were prepared for this complication, ok?"
Jane nodded, trusting the words. As the activity around her slowed, she continue to listen to the rhythmic sounds emanating from Maura. She wasn't paying attention to what she was saying, but allowed the melody to comfort her. Soon, the only people left in the room were her family, which included Maura and now seemed to include Gabriel. One by one they moved forward. Some relief settling in, around a thread of tension.
"Why did they put a heating blanket on her, she has a fever?" Jane heard her brother ask.
"She has a fever, which means her core is losing heat, they need to stop hypothermia," Maura explained and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed. It was used only to chart vital signs, no personal information was present, but the physician in her compelled her to analyze the numbers. It was like box scores for a baseball fanatic. As she thought, there wasn't a lot of warning and many factors that could have resulted in the increases she was seeing over the course of several hours. A warm bath could have contributed to the slightly elevated temperature that afternoon. Giving her official statement to Vince Korsak could have caused her heart rate and respiratory rates to rise. The only test they hadn't run with frequency was her white blood cell count. Not a very practical use of everyone's time and the lab process would have likely taken as much time as it had taken the staff to see the pattern in the sudden spikes in vitals and page the doctor.
Ignoring the constant movement of her mother, Jane watched her friend study the chart, waiting for her to relax. Once Doctor Isles relaxed she could. Finally, their eyes met. Jane's teeth chattered. Maura shifted to the head of the bed, tucking the warming blanket under her chin and shoulders. "You're going to be fine, Jane, just let the warming blanket and IV run its course," she said sensing the fear.
"Tired," she was able to say with effort.
"Close your eyes, you can sleep now," Maura murmured.
-/-
The darkness began to clear as a blurry form came into Jane's view. Startled, she tried to push away from the figure, but hit another solid body.
"Detective Rizzoli, I'm sorry if I started you," a gently, baritone voice soothed. "I'm Doctor Tucker, Doctor Elliot may have mentioned I'd be by?"
Nodding, but still apprehensive, she looked right to find out what was moving next to her, and came face to face with Gabriel. He was clearly coming out of a deep sleep, and was himself startled by the unannounced presence. Instinctively, Jane watched him reach for the void at his side where his weapon would have been, ready to defend.
Dr. Tucker took a step back from the pair. He knew the patient was a fallen officer, and had been brought up to speed on her ordeal. "I'm sorry, I heard there were some complications and was hoping I could start my evaluation without disturbing you. I see it was a mistake," he apologized. "Should I come back?"
Gabriel shifted off the bed and into a nearby chair, never losing contact with her arm. Drawing strength from his touch, she settled her fear of the stranger, telling her brain he was there to help her, not hurt her. "No, I need to know how bad my hands are," she finally said.
With a gentleness she didn't expect, Dr. Tucker moved her left hand out from underneath the blankets, and started to unwrap the gauze. For a moment, she looked away, needing one last moment to pretend everything was going to be okay before surveying the damage for herself. It seemed Agent Dean wasn't eager either to see the two-day old wound as he kept his eyes focused on hers. Sighing, she turned to look first at the doctor and then down to her hand which suddenly ached as the structure of the bandages were removed and the only support she had was the doctor's hands. She closed her eyes, and swallowed the sob of pain.
"Mr.?" Doctor Tucker began, looking at Gabriel.
"Agent Dean," he supplied.
"Can you press the call button, let's get a nurse to get some additional pain meds," he instructed, resting Jane's hand on her chest. He patted her shoulder. "We'll wait for the nurse to take the edge off."
"How does it look," she asked trying to get a glimpse of the wound. It was a moment of truth of sorts. Had it helped or hurt to leave the scalpel in that hand for so long.
Before Tucker could answer, a nurse popped into the room. "Can we administer another dose of the detective's pain medication before I start poking around? I'd like to take the edge off."
"Yes, we had to switch her to morphine when she was unresponsive last night and could not receive oral medication. Is there a preference?" she asked looking between the injured woman and the physician.
"Percocet," Jane said, having a better understanding of the cause to her haziness when she came to. She tried not to bristle when the nurse looked back to Dr. Tucker for confirmation. It was her choice, damn it, but she bit back the sarcasm, knowing it was spurred on by pain and fear.
Gabriel, wisely, stayed silent.
After the drug had been administered, Dr. Tucker sat and started to talk as they waited for it to take effect. "I've looked at the x-rays and medical scans. We need to assess what, if any, nerve and tendon damage has been done, but it seems the scar tissue from your previous injuries helped mitigate the muscle damage. There are three chipped bones, and one, in your right hand, has been completely shattered. We'll rebuild it with hardware," he explained calmly.
Jane felt Gabriel's hand tightened on her arm. "Christ," he breathed, and stood to pace.
"Gabriel," she whispered. The Percocet was starting to work, and she felt a warmth bath her, relax her.
"Ten hours and forty-six minutes, Jane. Your hand was shattered for ten hours and forty-six minutes before we got to help," he bit back. "You chose—"
"—I chose to keep you alive," she fought back. "And what makes you think Hoyt wasn't going to do the same exact thing anyway?"
Silence. They both knew there were issues they needed to work through for themselves and together, but it wasn't the time. She watched him take a step back toward the door. Fear rose up over the drug induced buzz. She didn't want him to leave and, even more, she didn't want to be alone with Dr. Tucker no matter how kind and gentle he seemed to be. "Please stay," she said. "Just stay and we can talk about it later, but when I'm still high."
He smirked as he sat again and rubbed her forearm. "I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at what you had to go through," he admitted.
"What we went through," she answered and turned back to Dr. Tucker before he could object. "Go ahead, poke away," she told him.
Jane endured the exam, keeping her eyes closed through most of it. I tear would slip out now and then from the pain, and Gabriel would wipe it away. Feeling a gentle pat on left shoulder, she willed her eyes open. "What's the word, doc?" her voice was a raspy whisper.
He pushed the call button and finished up notes in her chart. "Your left hand seems to have suffered the most from the infection your body is fighting. We can't operate until that's under control," he paused letting the information set in and motioned to the nurse to enter. "We're ready for a wound care and new bandages," he told her and turned back to Jane. "Your right hand, however, is the most serious. There's tendon damage, but the median nerve appears to be undamaged, which is also thanks to the scar tissue from the previous injury."
Nodding, Jane steeled a quick glance at her hands resting on her chest. They weren't pretty. "Bottom line? Will I be able to hold a weapon gain?" she asked.
He nodded, "We won't know for sure until you start physical therapy, but I think the odds are good you'll be able to return to duty." Letting out a breath she had been holding, she thanked him. "I'll get updates on your recovery and consult with Dr. Elliot before scheduling you for surgery. Any questions for me?"
"No, thank you. You know where to find me," she said and watched him leave and the nurse step in to tend to the exposed wound. "Don't take this personally, but I hate you," she informed the nurse and looked to Gabriel.
"Hard to take such a thing personally," the nurse commented with amusement. It was definitely not the worst thing that had even been said to her while doing her job.
He smiled apologetically to the woman, "She's high," he told her.
"Ten hours and forty-six minutes, Agent Dean?" Jane finally asked. "That's very specific."
"I did some math when you were on your way to the hospital," he admitted
She offered a sad smile, "It was ten hours and forty-six minutes I wouldn't have survived without you." A comfortable silence lingered between the two, until the nurse finished her task, took Jane's vitals, marked them on the chart and left the room.
Before another word was spoke, Gabriel moved in and kissed her gently.