Title: A Day's Work
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles
Characters: Jane Rizzoli, Maura Isles
Category: Fluff, drama
Rating: PG
Word count: 905
Summary: Jane wakes up.
Spoilers: For Where the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang.
Notes: All Rysler's fault. I was determined not to write fic for yet another show, but the more we talked the more I started getting ideas.
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to Tess Gerritsen, TNT and whoever owns the tv show, etc. I'm not them.


"'s gotta hurt." Jane's slurred voice, sounding even rougher than usual, was music to Maura's ears.

"Jane?" Despite her exhaustion, Maura almost leapt to her feet. "What hurts?"

Jane's hand weaved unsteadily through the air and instinctively Maura caught it with her own hand to keep Jane from hurting herself.

"Neck," Jane murmured. "Sleep like that, won't be able to move 'morrow."

Maura shook her head, blinking rapidly against the unexpected surge of emotion that rose up in her at Jane's considerate words.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me. You're the one who was shot."

Jane's fingers clenched around her hand tight enough to hurt even in her weakened condition. "Frankie?"

"He's fine," Maura reassured her quickly, but Jane still looked distressed. "Turn your head. He's in the bed right next to yours," Maura continued. "Your mother insisted."

Jane groaned at the thought of her mother and the fit she had surely thrown at the knowledge that two of her children had been shot - and on the same day no less. She rolled her head to look over at Frank, needing to see for herself that he was okay. It wasn't that she didn't believe Maura; she just needed the confirmation. If Frankie was okay then the desperate, screaming pain in her abdomen was worth it.

Relief flooded her; Jane's eyes fell shut.

When she opened them again, time had slipped away from her. Maura was sleeping again, her head resting against the edge of the bed in the same uncomfortable position that she had been lying in the last time Jane had woken. A nurse bustled around the room. Jane ignored her. Maura's head was only an inch from her fingers. Maybe if she moved just her fingers, everything wouldn't hurt.

Maura's hair was silky. The moment Jane's fingers made contact with Maura's scalp, Maura jerked awake, sending Jane's hand sliding back to the bed.

"Jane."

"Doing it again."

"What?" Maura looked puzzled.

Jane ignored the question and patted the bed, moving only her hand. That didn't hurt. Mostly. "C'mere." Maura still looked confused, so Jane repeated her gesture. "Sleep with me. You always do."

The nurse shot them a glance. Quickly she looked away again. Jane didn't notice. Maura did.

"No," she protested. "I can't, Jane. I'll hurt you."

"Won't," Jane disagreed. "Promise."

"You can't promise that," Maura pointed out logically. "Jane, you were very seriously injured." One hand came up to curl at the base of her throat. "You almost..." Maura shook her head. "I won't take the chance of hurting you."

It took effort but Jane lifted her hand and tangled her fingers through Maura's and then tugged. The gesture sent pain shooting through her side and down into her abdomen again. For a second it hurt so bad that Jane couldn't breathe, but she didn't let go of Maura's hand.

"C'mon," Jane insisted. "Get in, 'fore I do that 'gain."

Maura knew the amount of painkillers that Jane was on - it was significant - but she also knew the stubborn look on Jane's face. She never gave up when she looked that way and Maura had no doubt Jane would hurt herself again trying to convince Maura to get in bed with her. There was also the not small fact that Maura wanted to be near Jane as much as Jane wanted to have her near. She knew better than Jane how close Jane had come to dying earlier that day. The thought of losing Jane was not one that Maura wanted to dwell on.

"Fine," Maura conceded. "But on your other side, where you're not injured."

It took them several moments to get Jane shifted over and Maura settled onto the bed beside her. Even with Maura curled on her side facing Jane it was a tight fit in the narrow hospital bed. Maura ran her fingers up and down Jane's arm on her uninjured side. The gentle brush of Maura's fingers against her skin was soothing and having tangible proof that someone was close was comforting.

Neither of them spoke. Jane stared openly at Maura, their faces only inches apart, sharing a single, lumpy pillow.

"Thank you," Jane murmured.

"For what?" Maura asked.

"Frankie," Jane said, with a slight tilt of her chin toward her brother's bed. "Saved his life today."

"No, you..." Maura's voice broke. "I was there, Jane. I know what you did." Her hand stilled and her fingers tightened around Jane's wrist. "You scared me."

"Sorry. Had to," Jane gritted out.

"I know," Maura said. "It's what you do." She stroked a piece of hair back from Jane's face and tucked it behind her ear.

If anyone else had done it, Jane would have been irritated. Instead she turned her head into Maura's touch.

"Oh, Jane," Maura sighed. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." At Jane's look she continued. "You understand me. No one else does."

Jane grinned, or tried to. "Crazy."

It startled a small laugh out of Maura, but it was good enough for Jane. With Maura's warmth pressed up against her and Frank sleeping peacefully in the other bed, Jane surrendered to the drugs that lured her irresistibly toward unconsciousness and let herself go, content in the knowledge that those she watched over - her nearest and dearest - would still be there when she woke. All in all, not a bad day's work.

(1/1)