Series title: Whumptober 2024

Chapters: 1/1

Characters: Jane Rizzoli / Frankie Rizzoli Jr.

Trigger warnings: Blood, Sickness

A/N: The characters and universe don't belong to me. All rights go to TNT, and everyone involved in the production of Rizzoli and Isles, as well as Tess Gerritsen. Everything else belongs to my twisted imagination.

A/N2: Second part of "Blood Trail" posted on day 19.

All of these stories are only meant to be one-shots, but last year has proven that it can easily change. Those one-shots are written as part of the 2024 Whumptober challenge. I'm following the list of prompts and didn't intend to write second parts for any of the one-shots. That's why they're all posted separately.

The ground was rolling underneath her body like a boat on the sea. She hated boats and their instability. She didn't have sea legs, and wasn't comfortable with the idea of being lost in the middle of waters so deep and filled with ugly creatures. Plus, being at large meant she couldn't swim back to the safety of the land. She was an excellent swimmer but the ocean was cold and full of different currents that would take her farther away from her destination. She had experienced it once when she jumped from that bridge to save Paul Wescourt, she wasn't about to do it again. She had been lucky that a fisherman's boat was around to fish them out of the water. Since then, she had refused to get too close to large surfaces of water unless necessary. So why the hell was she on a boat right now?

A solid object was pressing into the muscles of her upper back. It was moving, following the movement of the ship she was on. Her stomach grumbled, but she wasn't hungry. To be fair, she wasn't aware of most of her body and her mind was in a haze. It was coming back, bit by bit. It was annoying because she couldn't determine where she was and what she was doing there, or what she needed to do to get the hell away from this floating boat making her nauseous. She shifted to make herself more comfortable. That decision reactivated all her senses. The pounding pain in her head, the sickness of her stomach, the burning pain in her leg, the breeze on her skin, steps on carpet of fallen leaves… Wait, since when did boats have fallen leaves on them? It didn't make any sense. Where was she?

Her eyes snapped open. Blurry bright spots of red, orange and yellow filled her vision. She blinked to clear her sight and get a better grasp of her surroundings. The pain in her head and in her leg was too much. She couldn't focus. What had happened? The rushing of blood in her ears mixed with the wild beating of her heart was deafening and worsening her already killing headache. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The ground underneath her was more and more unstable, but she wasn't floating and she wasn't on a boat. She couldn't be flying either. Humans didn't have that ability. She didn't need Maura to tell her that. She wasn't that stupid. But Maura would know where she was, what had happened and why she was moving while being still. Maura would fix the pain and make it better. That was what she always did. Everything was feeling better when Maura was around.

She shifted again to alleviate the pressure on her back. Her head rubbed against a rough and solid surface. The pain in her head exploded at the same time her rebellious stomach decided that enough was enough. She was moved so quickly the world spun around her as she retched the little contents (litres of coffee) left in her body. Her legs wouldn't hold her weight but someone was holding her up. She collapsed against them, body trembling from the effort it had to make. Her hand touched her painful leg. She didn't need a clear sight to see that said hand was covered in fresh blood. Flashes crossed her mind. Her flat lost to the fire. Her blocked bank accounts. The fear for Maura when she was taken. Alice Sands. Wendy Allen. The search in the woods. The gunshot. The pain in her head. The darkness.

The triggered memories brought a new wave of sickness. She bent over and dry-heaved for a moment. Wendy Allen couldn't kill her but she really made a mess of her. What now? What was she gonna do of her? Why hadn't she left her to bleed out in the woods? Alice would have been proud of her. Or not. Her goal wasn't to kill Jane. Or not immediately at least. She wanted to take it all away from her first, and Jane still had her family, her friends and her job. Her reputation was untouched. It wouldn't stop there. Alice certainly had more in store for her.

"Where's the bus I requested?

Frankie. It was Frankie holding her up while she was being sick. He had found her and was carrying her away from danger. He must have found her bleeding out in the woods. Finding Wendy Allen became secondary to him. His priority was to bring her to safety, to get her the cares she needed, to save her life. He was repaying her for the debt he always thought he had after she shot herself to save him.

His radio crackled and words she didn't understand were pronounced. She collapsed against her brother, drained from all energy. Her eyes slipped shut just as Frankie was picking her up again. He was talking to her, telling her to hold on, that it would all be okay. She wanted to believe him. She really wanted to. But it all hurt so much.

"Detective Jane Rizzoli. 38. Gunshot to the left thigh. Bullet still inside. Head wound. Important blood loss. Showing signs of a mild concussion. A tourniquet has been applied before we arrived on site but we couldn't stop the bleeding. High blood pressure, tachycardia. She keeps slipping in and out of consciousness."

Jane blinked her eyes open again only to close them back when she found herself assaulted by the bright lights going by above her. She wasn't in the woods anymore. Nor was she in her brother's arms. The surface underneath her body was flat and hard and uncomfortable and it was rushing at a dizzying speed.

They rolled her on her side for her to puke in the metallic bowl they presented to her when she started retching again. This place was too noisy and too bright, and the pain in her head was too intense. She tried to raise her hands to rub her temples but her arms were too heavy. She closed her eyes, wishing she could make all those people yelling in her ears just shut up.

They put her flat on her back again. They forcefully opened her eyes and flashed a light in them. It hurt. It hurt so much. What was she doing here? What did they want from her? She fought them, pushed their hands away. She wanted them all to leave her in peace. She wanted... Maura. She wanted Maura. She was the only one who could take care of her when she was hurt. She was the only one who could make it all better.

"Dilated pupils. No reaction."

"Oh, that's no good."

She heard someone saying that they needed scans of her head, pronouncing words only Maura would understand. Would she ever see her again? She had promised to meet her back in Boston. She didn't want to leave her alone. Maura... She would be so devastated without her. They needed each other. They were two parts of a whole. She had to hold on. She had to go back to her. But the darkness was faster, stronger, and soon it swallowed her completely...