Maura Isles sat in a blue plastic chair, staring straight ahead with an unreadable expression on her face. With her back perfectly straight, her ankles crossed, and her hands resting in her lap, she looked as though she might be waiting for a maître'd to usher her to an ocean-view table or for a spa attendant to lead her into the salon for a lavender salt body scrub followed by a seaweed wrap.

Except for the fact that her dress was covered in blood. Jane's blood.

When she and her colleagues, detectives Frost and Korsak, arrived at the hospital just minutes behind Jane's ambulance, Maura had caught a glimpse of herself, reflected in the sliding glass doors of the ER waiting room, and realized that Jane's blood was splattered all over her dress, her arms and hands, even her knees, where she had knelt beside Jane trying desperately to keep her from bleeding out on the sidewalk in front of the police station.

As a medical examiner, Maura was used to the sight of blood—but only on her gloves and her scrubs. Not on her own clothes, not on her own skin. Not Jane's blood. Probably some of it was Jane's brother's blood too—Frankie had been the first one injured and Maura had been forced to put a tube in his chest to try to keep him alive. She excused herself and went to the restroom and furiously scrubbed herself until every inch of her exposed skin was clean and raw.

There was nothing to be done about the dress though. She wished she could take it off and put something else on, especially once Jane's parents arrived and broke down into fresh tears at the sight of the stains, but she didn't want to leave the hospital before she knew that Jane was going to be all right. So she sat on the blue plastic chair, thinking about nothing except the blood drying and crusty on the fabric of her dress.

And the horrifying image of Jane shooting herself in the abdomen, trying to end a standoff with the dirty cop who was holding her hostage.

It had only been twelve hours since Maura's hand had caressed the silky smooth skin of that abdomen, feeling the muscles tighten and then relax, stretch and contract as Jane turned in bed from her back to her side and then pulled Maura close to her, kissing Maura's neck as she awoke from a deep sleep.

Now Jane would have a scar there, forever marring the perfect lines of her stomach. First a gaping bullet hole, then an angry, jagged red welt, and finally a pebbled lump of scar tissue that she would want to hide from everyone, just like the scars she already had on her neck and hands. Would Maura ever be able to touch her there again?

She wished that she hadn't waited so long to touch Jane in the first place.

It had been Maura's discovery that her birth father was the infamous mob boss Patrick Doyle that finally brought the two women together. In an attempt to protect her, Doyle had kidnapped Maura, and Jane had been powerless to stop it. For just over an hour Maura was out of reach, out of contact, and it had been the longest hour of Jane's life. After Maura was safely returned and the case wrapped up, Jane had become her friend's shadow, seemingly unable to relax or concentrate on anything unless she was in Maura's presence.

For two weeks they spent every night together. That first night Maura had asked Jane to stay with her out of fear, but after that neither woman bothered to make any excuses for sharing the same bed. They just did it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. They began to develop a sleeping routine, like an old married couple. Jane got in bed first, since Maura's nightly beauty regimen took just a bit more time than it took Jane to pull on a t-shirt and sleep shorts. When Maura was ready, clad in her silk pajamas and smelling like peaches, she simply got into bed and snuggled up to Jane, front to back, like two spoons in a drawer. After awhile, if Jane didn't fall asleep, they would both turn over and Jane would wrap her long arms around Maura, curling her fingers into the silk pajamas and breathing in the intoxicating scent of the top of Maura's head.

Then, one night, when she felt Jane beginning to turn over, Maura didn't move. She just stayed where she was and kept her arm around Jane's waist, looking into her friend's eyes and feeling her breath on her face. Jane pulled her closer, curling her hands into Maura's pajamas as usual, but also entwining their legs together. Maura buried her face in Jane's neck and wondered if she was hearing her own heart pounding, or if it was Jane's.

"Maura," whispered Jane, her voice cracking just a bit, as though her throat were dry.

"Hmm?" answered Maura, shifting her head a bit so that her lips were not pressing directly into Jane's pulse point.

"Can I hold you like this forever, please?"

"Okay, Jane. That sounds wonderful to me."

"G'night Maura."

"Good night Jane."

The next night, Jane waited to get into bed until Maura was ready. Then, instead of turning away so that Maura could spoon her, she immediately pulled her friend into her arms and began kissing her. Maura responded softly, but eagerly, and felt Jane begin to melt in her arms the moment she opened her mouth and slid her tongue along Jane's lower lip.

"You're so soft, Maura. I've never felt anything this soft before." Jane began to explore Maura's face with her lips and the tip of her nose while Maura breathed deeply and enjoyed the sensations.

"Jane, have you ever done this before?"

"Done what before?"

"This!" Maura kissed Jane soundly on the mouth, with enough force to push Jane back on the pillow and make her moan deeply in the back of her throat.

"With a woman, I mean," added Maura when she broke the kiss and leaned away.

Jane tensed up a bit, and avoided eye contact. "No. Have you?"

"No, but I've thought about it."

"Thought about it with me, or with other women?"

"Both."

"Oh."

"Jane, do you want to talk about it?"

"No, Maura. Let's just go to sleep, okay?" Jane smiled at Maura, kissed her lightly on the mouth, and turned over. Maura snuggled up to her as usual, but it took her a long time to fall asleep, realizing just how skittish Jane was about this relationship.

The next morning Jane kissed her again though, just as they were leaving to go to work. And then again in her office when they were alone. So that night when Maura came out of the bathroom smelling of peaches, she neglected to do up the buttons on her pajama top.

Jane couldn't help but notice the long line of flesh—Maura's perfect, golden flesh—that was now visible, snaking from her neck through the curves of her breasts to her stomach and navel. She grinned as Maura self-consciously gripped the edges of the fabric together while getting into bed—as if she didn't expect Jane to remove the top altogether just as soon as she could.

And she did.

An hour later, both women were again snuggled up together, enjoying the sensation of bare skin on bare skin. As they had been exploring each other's breasts, arms, and stomachs, Maura slipped her hand between the waistband of Jane's panties, resting it on the curve at the small of her back, and once again Jane had tensed up.

"Jane, it's okay." Maura moved her hand back up a few inches.

"I know, it's fine. Let's just go to sleep though, okay?"

Maura kissed Jane and then turned over. Jane snaked her hand around Maura's waist, but since there was no fabric there to hold on to, Maura took Jane's hand and moved it up so that it was covering her breast. She felt Jane smile, and giggle into her shoulder.

It's okay, Jane," thought Maura. I'll be patient. We have lots of time. All the time in the world.

By the time the surgeon came out to update them on Jane's condition, Maura felt stiff, sore, and numb, but she listened intently to what the doctor had to say.

"Jane's awake now, but we haven't extubated her because we aren't sure if she can breathe on her own yet. There's also a chance we'll have to go back in if we didn't stop all of the bleeding. The damage was extensive, but I think we were able to repair most of it."

Angela Rizzoli sobbed with relief and then immediately began peppering the doctor with questions. "Can we see her now? And did you tell her that Frankie is going to be okay?"

"Yes, we told her that Frankie had come through his surgery just fine, thanks to the emergency measures performed by someone in the field."

Korsak put his arm around Maura. "That was the work of Dr. Isles here, our chief medical examiner."

"Oh, I see. Jane was quite agitated when she first came out of the anesthesia and since she can't talk while intubated we had her write out her questions. She asked first about Frankie, and then just wrote 'Isles ok.' We didn't understand what she meant. Well, I'm guessing she'll want to see you soon, Dr. Isles, but let's have just Mr. and Mrs. Rizzoli first, okay? We actually wanted to put her out again because of the discomfort of the intubation, but she insisted on seeing everyone."

Jane hated the feeling of having a tube down her throat, and being unable to talk. She hated that worse than the pain radiating from her abdomen. But she tried to pull it together for her parents. Despite her best efforts, she felt tears streaming down her face as her daddy took her hand and her mother kissed her cheek. The visit was brief—her mother barely had time to recover her voice enough to thank her daughter for saving Frankie's life before the nurses led her away.

Jane closed her eyes with pain and exhaustion after they left. When she opened them again, Maura was standing in front of her, flanked by Frost and Korsak. They all looked tired and worried, but Maura—

Maura barely looked like herself. Her skin was pale, her hair was limp and flat. Although her dress was red, the blood that had dried on it was much darker than the fabric and the stain seemed to scream out in reproach at Jane. Maura folded her arms in front of the stain, gripping her torso while tears spilled out of her eyes. Her eyes—even Jane, in her heavily-medicated state—could see that her eyes were filled not just with concern and fear, but anger. A kind of anger that Jane had never seen before.

Frost and Korsak tried to make small talk, but since Jane couldn't talk and Maura was silent, they quickly gave up. Korsak patted Jane on the hand and made a light-hearted joke, telling his former partner that he expected to see her back at work within forty-eight hours, and then said, "Come on, doc, let's get out of here so she can rest."

"No," said Maura, in a tone that left no room for questioning. "I need to talk to Jane. I'll be out in a minute."

Frost and Korsak beat a hasty retreat, and Maura took a step closer to the bed.

"Why did you do it, Jane? Why did you have to shoot yourself?" Maura saw remorse and panic in Jane's eyes but kept going. "Don't you know that there are people that care about you? That I care about you? Why do you have to do this all the time? Why do you have to play the hero? When are you going to grow up and stop this?"

Maura never raised her voice, but her tone was so fierce that Jane felt as though she had been slapped.

Then Maura crumpled. She put her face in her hands and sobbed until the nurse came back into the room. Then Maura straightened up, took Jane's hand and whispered, "I'm sorry, Jane." She tried to smile through her tears. "I'll come and see you again soon, okay?" Then she stood and walked shakily out of the room.

Jane watched Maura walk away through tear-blurred eyes. I did this to her, she thought. I made her look like that, talk like that, feel like that. I can't . . .

Then the nurse put something into her IV and the world went black.