DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles nor any of the characters from the show. I am writing this purely for entertainment, not profit. Rizzoli and Isles are property of Tess Gerritsen and TNT.

For full disclaimers, please refer to the first chapter.

Chapter 5

"This fucking hurts!" Jane hissed, her voice still groggy from the pain medication.

"It wouldn't hurt as much if you had not been so stubborn like you were the past four times, and have agreed like every other volunteer to go home to recover in a proper hospital!" Casey's tired voice argued, looking at the haggard figure of Jane in the field hospital cot. Her wild curly hair had strikes of gray intertwined with jet black. She was thinner than he ever saw her as an adult, skin, muscles, sinews, and bones. And her heavily bandaged knee was a reminder of her latest brush with mortality.

He was the General leading the volunteer Secret Ops. He had been utterly surprised when Jane had shown up more than three years ago out of nowhere. He had been shocked and sad with her news. He had tried to rekindle their old flame, but realized Jane had found her everything in Maura, and the best he could ever be to her was a friend.

The Secret Ops had several arms.

Jane had requested to be, if at all possible, placed in an arm where she could maximize the use of her good shooting skills, without the risk of hurting civilians.

It was the most dangerous arm – because it meant infiltrating known military positions. Every casualty was a military person. And it meant Jane could shoot at will – she could channel her anger, her guilty, her self-blame, into shooting, again and again, without any risk of shooting someone innocent. Her marks had always been outstanding, and because now, more than ever before, she was not afraid of anything, she did exceptionally well in all the missions assigned to her.

That, or got exceptionally screwed up on the way.

Like the five times she had been severely wounded in the past three years.

Every volunteer for the Secret Ops was expected to serve for eighteen months once enlisted, but after that they were free to leave. And if they were injured during those eighteen months, or later, they could all go home to recover – and choose not to come back.

Jane had been shot five times in the past three years, the most recent being this one, but every time she stubbornly refused to consider even the mere possibility of going back home.

Casey knew her enough to know she was running away, and it didn't take him to be a genius detective to assume she was blaming herself for the tragedy that had happened. And it took him even less to understand that Jane had a death wish. Every time she entered one of those military targets, despite wearing all the protective devices that the army protocol demanded, she was not afraid. She would just do what had to be done, without any hesitation, in complete disregard of the dangers it posed to herself. After seeing her in action, he was actually surprised she had lasted this long. To be honest, he thought even Jane was surprised to have lasted this long.

"It has been a week already. I should be feeling good enough to go back to the lines by now."

"It has been four days, Jane. And you know that even though this time it was 'just' a bullet to the side of your knee, this is not 'any' bullet. It is an AK high caliber bullet, that will keep you out of commission for at least another two weeks, maybe more, until we can ascertain you can run up and down stairs without a problem. You know you were very lucky, an inch to the side and you would have likely lost the entire lower portion of your leg."

She puffed, impatiently.

"So to what do I owe your visit if I am so far still from being able to get back to active duty?"

"You've got mail." He handed her the single manila envelope.

Casey recalled how in the beginning every plane would arrive with mail for her. And then it got farther and farther apart until now it was an unexpected treat. He was not sure if she ever opened and read the previous letters from the past three years – if she did, it was never in front of him – but what he was sure of was that Jane never ever sent one single word back as a reply, and it broke his heart to know it.

Jane threw the manila envelope by the little bed table besides the hospital cot she was occupying, without giving it a second look, and Casey just shook his head and stood up, preparing to leave.

"I will see you later." He said from over his shoulder.

Once he was out of her sight, Jane sighed and turned to pick the manila envelope in her scarred hands.

She always dreaded receiving news, especially once they became very spaced in between. Because they could be either the same updates, or they could be bad news. She didn't know if she could handle any more bad news. That was why she was here, to focus on something that could numb the pain of her soul, even if it meant a lot of pain on her body like every time she had been shot.

It had been so easy for God to take Mia. A fraction of a second was all it took. And she, Jane Rizzoli, was still here. Her body a map of scars, increased five-fold in the past three years, the previous four times scary enough that Casey had made sure she shared any last wishes with him, 'just in case'. Not that she had any last wishes, just that her family was informed after – and only after – she had passed away. She didn't want anyone eventually concerned about her, and if she was hurt, but she recovered, then they better never know.

The letters in the beginning tried to convince her she was not guilty. But wasn't she? Words on paper were easy, but they could not erase what she had heard with her own two ears, and what she felt in her own heart.

The letters she received lately were sparse and short, just brief updates, everyone doing well, no news. But no news were good news, weren't they? She hoped they also knew it from her end, no news from her were good news. As good as they could be given the circumstances.

She opened the envelope and tears immediately prickled her eyes. Maura. Maura's unmistakable perfume.

Jane noticed her heart was out of compass, and tried to control her breathing. The last thing she wanted was a concerned military nurse trying to knock her down with more medicines than absolutely needed. The physical pain was welcome to signify the soul pain she experienced all the time.

There were three smaller envelopes inside the bigger manilla one, and in true Maura's fashion, they had instructions outside. One had "Read Me First", another had "Read Me Second", and the other one had "Read Me Last" scribbled on Maura's beautiful calligraphy.

Jane hesitated before opening the envelopes. She was not sure if she was ready to see any official documents to formalize a divorce. Or if she was ready to handle explicit blame, even after more than three years had gone by.

Jane blamed herself, and she had to live with her own voice in her head all the time. But she was not sure if she had built enough strength to handle the blame of others.

It still hurt deeply to hear the memory of her mother's words when she had arrived home broken after all that have happened that day. Hearing her mother blaming her and telling her Maura had left blaming her had been soul crushing, and Jane was not sure if there was a word she could use to define if Maura had finally decided to come clean and blame her directly.

Because Jane had been away from them all for more than three years, but Jane still loved Maura with all her mighty.