"Janie, wake up. We're all going to have breakfast together," Angela'a voice coos into the room.

Dense white haze. Two cloudy dark spots.

"Urghh," she pulls the sheets to her face. It is a second day at Maura's. But there's no progress.

Her phone begins to ring.

Arms flailing, Jane reaches at the bedside table, sweeping the surface to feel her phone out. A glass of water is toppled and there is the sound of glass shattering. The phone is no more near her either. It continues to ring… some sunshine-y Disney tune that the brown haired 10- year-old had put on her phone last week.

Her chest tightens, as a searing panic gnaws at her heart. It's been four days now; what if my sight does not return? Her eyelids are filling up with tears. No, no, don't cry. Do NOT devolve into pathetic self-pitying mush. Maybe, she needs to Dr. Cohen again. Some internet search should help with knowing more about her condition. But then, she cannot dial a phone number or do a google search! The tears are freely flowing now. Her hands ball up the sheets on either side. She squeezes her eyes closed. Not that the hazy white or the dark feel any different.

"Shhh…," there are soft fingers tracing her cheek, wiping her tears. "Talk to me Jane."

Maura.

"What am I going to do, Maur," she breathes out, painfully.

Maura cradles Jane's head on to her lap. Jane gives in, her arms closing around her friend's waist, head turning to hide in her lap. She breaks into soft sobs.

"We're going to work on this, Jane. It's not going to be forever. And, in the meantime, I am here. Feel my hand, just hold on," she entwines her fingers with one of Jane's hands and strokes her hair with the other.

"I'm here Jane. We'll figure this out."

"Maur, I can't even… I can't even pick up my phone. I don't know how to change clothes. I can't… I can't do anything," her voice is desperate and broken.

"Now. You cannot do anything only right now. I promise you, I will figure this out for you. I'll fix this, Jane."

Jane's hand is resting on the curve from Maura's waist to her hip. As her sobs recede, she is just lost in pure feeling. This is her language right now.

"Jane, I have a surprise coming in for you this morning. And we'll also have a home help over for this morning. It will be okay Jane. I am here. Angela is here."

Maura's voice is pure comfort and Jane soaks in it, nestling her head deeper into Maura. Underneath her fingers, she's sensing something beautiful. Maura was always breathtaking. This is what it feels like to hold her.

"Hey," Maura's voice softens. "You'll be okay, my friend."

She has never seen the great Detective Jane Rizzoli so childlike, and it tugs at her.