Author Note: I have always loved the song Savin' Me by Nickelback and I especially love the music video (you should check it out, if you can). It's been a song I've kind of considered writing a fic about for years, but actually, I think the video is much more interesting in terms of scope for writing. So I sort of mixed the two and have created this. There will be a small number of chapters, not sure how many just yet, but it probably won't be a long fic.

I know I have some other fics to work on and they will be coming, one will just take a bit of work. Hoping to update Rookie soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli and Isles, or the world they live in, but I do hang out there sometimes.

Warning: Brief mention of suicide (case).

The world span for the sixth time that week. The roof top terrace of Jane's apartment block was empty. The young couple who lived on the floor below hers had peaked their head round the door, but on seeing Jane, had changed their mind and disappeared again. She was thankful. She was in no fit state to spend time with anyone. The bottle of beer in her hand shook, the cool evening reached her bones. Jane slumped down on a plastic chair someone had set up by the wall and stared out at the city, finishing off her beer and reaching for another. On the first day she knew she would regret drinking so heavily, by the fourth her hangover had become perpetual. The only issue was going into work. A problem she wouldn't have to face for a while. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the noise ringing out across the night sky until it eventually stopped. A moment later it pinged and Jane lifted it to her ear to listen to the message.

"Jane, I'm worried," Maura said, her voice level and confident. "Please call me back. Korsak told me you were suspended."

She dropped her arm and held the phone for a moment. A burst of anger filled her up from the inside causing her to throw her arm out in front of her. The phone flew out of her grasp, over the wall and landed with a distant clatter below.

Another beer gone, she picked up the empty box and growled. She wasn't done drinking yet. Her buzz was enough to hold her in a state of anger, but she didn't want to feel anything. She pushed herself up and out of the chair, her legs wobbled and she almost tumbled forwards. She gripped the plastic arms of the chair to steady herself and made the difficult journey across the terrace.

Taking it one step at a time, Jane stumbled down the stairs, her fingers dug into the rail as she went down to her apartment. She unlocked the door and went for the kitchen cupboards, dragging the contents out onto the floor and counters until she found a bottle of white wine vinegar. She scrunched up her face as the liquid travelled down her throat, then threatened to come back up. Gagging, she poured herself a glass of water which followed it down. Then she continued looking through the items scattering her kitchen.

"Ninety-nine per cent alcohol," she whispered, reaching for a white bottle of liquid cleaner. She fumbled with the cap and took a mouthful, spitting it back out, before vomiting on the floor.

Then she remembered the bottle of wine she had in her closet. It cost a lot more than she ever thought she'd pay for wine, and Maura's birthday was just a couple of days away, but she sought it out anyway, grabbed a cork screw, and carried it back up to the roof.

"Hap buthdy, Maur," she slurred, uncorking the bottle and holding it up to the sky. She wrapped her lips around the top and guzzled like an amateur athlete at the end of a race.

The wine tasted soft and fruity, like the bottle and wine connoisseur she'd asked for advice had told her. But the fuzziness in her brain made the quality anything but a focus. She stood by the wall and watched the people on the ground walking by. Cabs and cars drove past. A couple of men walked hand in hand. Jane lifted a foot and pushed forwards until she stood on top of the wall.

"Goo, goud evenin' Boston," she shouted, holding her up bottle and taking another swig.

Once half the bottle was gone, she lowered her hand and closed her eyes. She felt herself wobbling, the world still spinning around her. A sickness overwhelmed her and she felt her stomach contract. She turned and allowed the contents of her stomach to land on the terrace behind her. Then she lifted the bottle to her mouth and drank some more.

"Hey, wait," someone shouted, their voice travelled across the street.

Jane tried to focus but they were too small in the distance and her eyes blurred too much. She searched for who the man was looking for, but to no avail. She held the bottle up in front of her, throwing her hand out with a little too much force that the wine slipped from her fingers and fell below. She held a hand up to her ear, listening carefully for the distant smash. When it came, she laughed and rocked about on the wall.

"Don't," the man's voice again, closer this time.

She turned to look at him, but the alcohol in her system caused her to lose her footing and she slipped off the wall. A pair of hands wrapped around her just in time and she allowed them to pull her back onto the terrace.

Another wave of sickness hit. Jane closed her eyes and lowered herself to the ground, her jeans wet from the mess she'd created earlier. She hummed softly, blotting out the adrenaline and fear spreading through her mind. Knowing she could have easily died made her heart hurt. She reached into her pocket for her phone, the memory of it being flung over the wall flooded her mind. She groaned again and opened her eyes.

"Wait," she shouted, but the man had already disappeared. She closed her eyes again and rolled onto her side. Her heart still thrummed against her chest, but the alcohol fought against it and won. Her mind slowed down, and she slipped into an alcohol induced sleep.

Jane walked down to her apartment the next morning, the pressure in her head felt like it was in a vice and her tongue was as rough as sandpaper. She downed three large glasses of water, then stripped and stood under the stream of the hot shower. The night before was a blur. She remembered only enough to realise that she couldn't do it again. The stranger who saved her would never know how thankful she was to him for saving her life. She put on a relatively clean shirt and pair of slacks, picked up her house keys and searched for her cell phone.

"Well done, Rizzoli," she muttered, remembering the noise it made it as she flung it across the street.

She headed for her car, before changing her mind. The last thing she needed after being suspended for turning up drunk three days in a row was to receive a DUI. She hailed a cab. The street was quiet. The driver was the first person she'd seen all day. She settled into the backseat and glanced at the man, before doing a double take. Jane squinted her eyes, scrunched them up and tried to refocus them. The thumping in her head did nothing to ease the confusion. She stared at a line of numbers above the man's head, slowly counting down.

"You alright?" the driver asked, staring back at her. Jane nodded, though she wasn't sure she was.

When she climbed out of the vehicle at the other end, the streets were much busier. People walked back and forth, similar numbers above their heads, counting down like the cab driver's. Jane walked up the front steps to the entrance of the Boston Police Department. The uniformed officer on the desk nodded her through, despite her not having a badge to show him, his number ticking along. She tried to work out what was being calculated.

"Is everything okay, Detective Rizzoli?" the man asked, looking behind him. Jane nodded again and headed for the elevator.

The squad room was a hive of activity when Jane arrived. Frankie sat at his desk, his number as high as most of the numbers she'd seen since getting out of the cab. When she turned to Korsak, his number much lower, her heart flipped about inside of her chest. The only logical answer was that the number counted the minutes and seconds left in a person's life. The number above Korsak's head was strikingly low.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Korsak asked, his attention falling on Jane. She leant forwards and wrapped her arms around him. He stood like a post, stiff and tall, until Jane took a step back. She'd overstepped the mark. "Are you trying to get yourself fired? You should not be here during your suspension unless called for an official meeting."

"I have a meeting," Jane said, the lie not fooling anyone. She forced her lips to curl at the edges, though her smile was slight. She placed a hand on Korsak's upper arm. "I'm leaving. You should get a check up, Korsak, you don't look well."

The confusion on his face lingered long enough for Jane to slip away. His anger made her feel worse and she didn't want to end their conversation on a bad note, especially not if he was running out of time. She pressed the button for the elevator and waited, staring around at all of the different people around her. Some were, by the judgement of the countdowns, healthy and going to live for years, others had their days numbered – literally.

In the basement, Jane sat down in Maura's office and waited. She could see her through the glass window, carrying out an autopsy on the body they'd found a couple of days before. The process had been delayed by her actions, something which she regretted. Any delay and a case could run cold. She stared, fixated, at the number above Maura's head. Lower than Frankie's but higher than Korsak's. She wondered what number she had above her own. But a trip to the restroom proved nothing but useless. She couldn't see any numbers.

For a moment she wondered if that meant she'd died. Maybe she hadn't been saved the night before, after all, maybe she'd fallen and the whole day was a figment of her imagination. An afterlife, as such.

Then Maura entered her office, her brow furrowed as she enveloped Jane in a hug and held her tightly. Jane relaxed in her arms and allowed herself to let go of the anger she'd been holding onto for days. No amount of alcohol was going to change what she'd done.

"Is this about Ricardo?" Jane nodded. Maura held her at arms length. "You know as well as anybody that we cannot predict when someone's time is up."

"He was a child, Maura," Jane said, wondering what Maura would say if she knew that she was able to do just that. She walked across to the door to the autopsy room and looked at Ricardo's father. No numbers. If her hypothesis wasn't correct, she would eat her favourite Red Sox jersey. Maura stood at her side, following Jane's line of sight. "He didn't deserve to die because I screwed up. Neither of them did."

"Maybe he was going to die anyway."

"Like fate?" Jane turned, her eyebrow raised. "You don't believe in a predestination of death."

Maura shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean it can't be true."

Jane contemplated what she was saying. The numbers above her head suggested that she was speaking a truth she didn't herself believe.

"I'll be doing his autopsy after his father's," Maura said. "At the moment it looks like I was correct and Antonio Vega died by his own hand. A single stab wound piercing the upper ventricle which bled out.

The pain in Jane's head grew worse. Maybe she wasn't hung-over. Maybe she had a brain tumour. It was the only valid reason why she could be seeing people's live's countdowns.

"I'm worried about Korsak," Jane said, sitting down on the couch. Maura sat beside her. A silence fell between them. Maura didn't have to speak for Jane to know that she felt the same way, but about her. "I'm okay."

"Are you?" Jane nodded. "I tried to call you last night. Why didn't you answer? Were you drinking again?"

Whichever answer Jane gave would not be the right one. She didn't want to hurt Maura, but she couldn't hide the fact she'd fallen apart over Ricardo's death, and his father's subsequent suicide. How could she explain that she'd nearly died herself just a few hours before?

"Yes."

Maura sighed. "You are better than this, Jane. You don't need alcohol to recover from what happened."

"I am not seeing a shrink," she said.

"I didn't suggest a therapist."

"You were going to."

"How do you know?"

"You doctors stick together."

"I hate seeing you like this," Maura said. "Ricardo and Antonio's deaths were unfortunate. But you cannot blame yourself."

"Like hell I can't."

There was a knock at the door. Korsak. Jane shifted uncomfortably on the couch. She knew she shouldn't be there. He glanced over at her.

"I thought I might find you here," he said, his breath laboured. "You've got a meeting with Cavanaugh tomorrow at two, don't be late, and don't be smelling of alcohol."

Jane focused on the numbers above his head, even lower than earlier. Circular stains below his armpits suggested physical exertion. His breathing only grew worse. Jane stood up and moved closer.

"Are you okay, Korsak?"

"I'm fine," he said, defensively. His number slipped lower, as Korsak's face grew red.

"Get a de, a defrizz, defib," Jane started to say, but the word wouldn't come to her. "The heart thing."

"A defibrillator?" Maura asked. Jane nodded. "Why would I need one of those?"

A second later, as Korsak's number slipped even further, he clutched his chest and fell to the floor. Maura turned to Jane, her eyes wide with surprise.

"The defibrillator," Jane shouted, as Maura knelt beside Korsak and started CPR.

"In the hallway, there's a key in my top drawer."

Jane opened the drawer and pulled out a single key and sprinted for the hallway. She unlocked the cabinet and took out the machine, carrying it back to Maura's office where Korsak lay with his shirt open. He looked weaker than Jane had ever seen him. Her heart leapt into her throat.

"Save him," Jane begged, placing the machine on the floor. Maura's brow creased but she stayed silent. The number was growing smaller and smaller by the second. Jane's heart sped up, her breathing grew laboured and her chest ached.

With the pads fixed to his torso, Maura turned the machine on and shocked him once, then twice. Jane rested her hands on her knees, relief setting in as his number jumped up considerably.

"He's okay," Jane whispered, her heart racing with adrenaline. She breathed in and out quickly.

"Hardly," Maura said, reaching for her cell phone and holding it to her ear. "I need an ambulance."

After giving out the instructions, Maura stayed by Korsak's side, monitoring his condition. Jane sat on the couch and watched his number tick along normally.

"Why are you so relaxed?" Maura asked, staring at Jane.

"He's fine."

"No, he's not," Maura said. "He has had a cardiac arrest. He will likely need surgery. It's going to take him weeks, maybe months, to recover."

Jane remembered that Maura only had the evidence in front of her to go off. An older man, unconscious, having just been shocked back to life. She knelt beside her and took her hand. They both cared about him.

"You are the best doctor I know," Jane said. "You saved his life, I know you did."

"Let's hope so," Maura said, moving away as the EMTs arrived.