A/N: I saw thepriceismeg's headcannon on tumblr yesterday and I just had to make it a fanfic, it's such a brilliant idea:

I hope someday we can see Jane just absolutely lose her shit over something and be all sobbing and violent and nobody can even come near her

except Maura just puts her arms around her and she doesn't even have to say anything and in 2 seconds Jane is just totally diffused and slumps into her arms

because she is the Jane whisperer

So yes, thank you to her because this story wouldn't have formed without that idea. Hope you guys like this. I could leave it like this, but I also enjoyed writing it even more than I thought I would, so if there is enough interest, I would definitely consider continuing it and making it something more. I mean we already are headed in the Rizzles direction! ;) Let me know what you think, thanks!

There are a lot of moments in our lives we wish we had the chance to do over, wish it had never happened. But then there are those moments that we'd pay pretty much anything to rewind time, to prevent them from happening. Those moments we need to wipe clean. The yearning for this is so intense, our heart beats against our chest with only this need and it is hard to breathe.

It was one of those moments. She had made Frost kick open the door, go into the house first.

"What, am I designated door-kicker?" Frost moaned, when Jane stepped back and gestured for him to bust it in.

Jane had laughed, slapping him on the back. "For now. Quit moaning, Frost."

Korsak was behind her and she couldn't see Frost when she heard the gunshot. But she knew it came from deeper into the house. Everything was suddenly blurry, and confusing, as she whipped through the hallways until she found Frost on the ground. She couldn't leave him. She should have kept on moving through the house, left him for Korsak to attend to, but she just couldn't. She had failed as a partner.

Failed. She kneeled in his blood, holding her jacket to the hole in his chest, but the blood just kept squirting out and nothing she did was helping.

"Hold on, Frost, hold on for me, buddy." Her voice was shaky, but she had to keep talking to him, keep him focused on her. "Hey, remember that time we tried to see which one of us could hit Korsak with the most spitballs? You won, not me. I cheated, I told you a higher number than I really got, you won. So you have to live so that you can tease me forever, alright?"

The tears came as she cupped his cheek and all he did was stare at her and blink rapidly.

Korsak shot the bastard, and somewhere along the way they had gotten to the hospital.

Now, they all are sitting here waiting to hear any news. And she wishes she could go back and do it all over again so they wouldn't have to be here. She hates hospitals, but most of all the waiting rooms, where there's nothing to do but sit on your hands, and you feel an urge greater than ever to do something.

Maura's calming presence next to her is the only thing keeping her in this chair. Otherwise…well, she'd probably be going crazy in the bathroom or something, punching holes in walls was a good bet. She can feel the anger building up in her chest, like someone is placing little wooden blocks of rage one on top of the other, but they are not doing a very great job balancing them and pretty soon it's going to collapse and the blocks will shatter and the anger will come roaring out. It's just a matter of time.

Frost's mom and her wife have yet to arrive as they need to fly in. But the rest of Frost's family is here, huddled together: Ma is across from her playing with her hands and pretending she's distracted by a woman's magazine. But she's not. Jane can feel her eyes on her when she thinks Jane's not looking. Frankie keeps running his hands through his hair, looking at the ground. Maura is sitting rigidly in her chair, legs crossed, the picture of composure to the untrained eye, but Jane can tell she's distraught by the way she keeps playing with her skirt, fiddling with her thumbs. Korsak is hunched over, defeated, blaming himself, but it's not his damn fault.

It's hers. If she could just do something. Maura places a hand on her arm. She didn't even realize that she was beginning to stand up. Jane sits back down, but Maura doesn't let go, just rubs her hand up and down Jane's arm and Jane wonders why she can't stand when her Ma tries to comfort her like this, but it feels soothing when Maura does it. Jane turns to her left and is met with worried hazel eyes that are too much for her to take in, so she goes back to staring at her lap. And imagining turning back time.

It's been a grueling 17 hours. Frost made it through surgery, but he's still unconscious, and will be for a long time. He still has quite a bit of a journey to make until he's in the clear.

Getting Jane to leave his side was almost as hard as trying to find someone who wasn't bewildered by her "google mouth" as Jane called it. He's stable, he's not going to wake up for hours, Maura kept repeating, but Jane wouldn't have it.

Jane needed a break, or she would burst out in anger, Maura could see that.

"Jane, when he wakes up he's going to be scared to see you the way you are—covered in blood. Let's just go home and get you showered and changed. That's all. We'll be back here in less than an hour, I promise."

She had seen that finally begin to persuade Jane.

"Nothing's going to happen while we're gone?"

Maura couldn't lie. She didn't know. She settled with, "He's stable." And let Jane assume the rest.

Angela and Frankie had ended up coming with them, although she didn't know exactly why. Maybe they needed a break from the hospital, as well. She definitely did. Dead bodies didn't bother her, but a place where people were in the process of dying made her uncomfortable to say the least. And when it was Frost? Well…she knew they weren't close per say, but she considered him a friend. And she only had so many friends.

Maura sighs as she walks up the stairs to Jane's apartment. Jane had sprinted ahead, letting some much needed energy out, but Maura had stayed behind to help Angela carry in the bags of supplies she claimed Jane needed in her apartment: pots, pans, dishes, and who knows what else.

"There already in the car, why not bring them in?" Angela had said in fake cheerfulness, and Maura understood that she just needed to busy herself with something right now.

So, they are a couple of minutes behind Jane. For some reason, Maura feels a little nervous about giving Jane this time alone although she doesn't know why. She hurries up the steps a little faster, pushing open the door with her knee.

Jane's name is about to escape her lips, but she stops when she sees her. She's in the kitchen, moving around like a mini tornado. Maura stands in the doorway, stunned, watching as Jane tears down pictures on the refrigerator, chucks a stress ball lying on her counter. When Jane turns towards her, Maura can tell she's crying, but her face is definitely angry. She's never seen Jane like this and it makes her want to cry herself. It's so horrifying, but not because she's afraid of Jane—the strong arms that are now throwing whatever they can get their hands on. Because she has never seen Jane so totally out of control. And she had seen her through so many difficult situations.

Maura hears a gasp from behind her and whirls around to face Angela, her hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide. Frankie looks shocked, concerned. But neither of them make a move towards Jane. Maura watches as she throws a dish, and it shatters against a cabinet. She knows Jane needs to let this anger out, but she could hurt herself the way she is releasing it right now. She can't stand watching this. She feels a pull towards Jane, a need to intervene.

Slowly, as if preparing for the delicacy which she would have to handle her friend, Maura places the bag on the floor. She begins to step towards Jane, when she feels a hand on her arm.

"No, Maura," Frankie whispers, as if he's afraid to talk too loud. "When she's like this, there's nothing anyone can do. I've only seen her like this twice, and nobody could get near her either time. You just need to let her ride it out."

But Maura shakes her head, and turns back around determined.

"She'll hurt you!" Frankie says more forcefully. "She won't mean to, but she will. Reason isn't going to work with her right now."

Maura doesn't think it will either. That isn't the plan. She isn't sure what is, but she knows she can make Jane calm down. She needs to. Seeing her like this is tearing her apart.

Jane is now beating her fists into her refrigerator. She doesn't see Maura as she glides across the floor towards her. Maura doesn't think it's a good idea to come from behind Jane, thinking it will startle her. So she comes around Jane's left side, and slowly, purposefully, wraps her arms around Jane's waist, tucking her head against Jane's back. She closes her eyes, squeezing Jane tight, sending her love, love, love. She can feel Jane's muscles slow, the bangs are no longer, now Jane's just breathing heavily. Maura doesn't let go of her, just maneuvers herself under Jane's arm so that she can wrap around her front.

Jane's arms slink around Maura's back now, fingers digging into her skin, desperate to hold onto something. Maura pulls Jane to her as hard as she can, and Jane squeezes back. Maura can barely breathe, but she doesn't think she would be able to anyway, with how hard Jane is crying now. Her sobs are so close to Maura's ear, loud, piercing, heartbreaking.

And then she is collapsing, and somehow Maura finds the strength to hold her up, to gently lower them to the floor. They sit there, still entwined around each other. It feels like only the two of them in the room, in the world.

"It's not your fault," Maura whispers into Jane's ear. "It's not your fault," non-stop, like a beat of a drum.

Twenty minutes later, they are still holding each other, but the sobs that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere have stopped. Jane just feels exhausted. And surprisingly relaxed, calm, like being in Maura's arms is her personal medicine.

But there are things to do. Frost needs her. She sighs deeply, gives Maura one last squeeze and reluctantly breaks her hold. They just sit there looking at each other. Jane expects to find pity in Maura's eyes, but instead she simply finds love.

"I gotta go see Frost," she says, her voice hoarse from all the crying.

"I know," Maura says, simply.

Jane looks down and realizes they're still linked-by their hands. Suddenly disgusted with herself, she pulls her deformed hand away from Maura's beautiful one.

Maura looks shocked, than a little stung by the sudden action, but doesn't say anything or do anything. Just waits patiently for Jane to act.

"My hands are broken. So they break everything. Everything they touch," she mumbles, staring at the ground and clutching her hand to her chest.

Jane feels a finger on her chin, and suddenly she is face to face with those eyes.

"No they are not, Jane," Maura says, her voice stern and clear. "Do you hear me? Your hands are not broken, and you are not broken."

She reaches for Jane's hand. She flinches subconsciously, but that doesn't deter Maura who continues to take her hand back into her own palm. She smooths her thumb over Jane's horrible scar.

"I love your hands, Jane. They have never hurt me. Alright?"

Jane nods, feeling those stupid tears coming again. But this time they're tears of relief.

They hold hands as much as they can as they get ready. Maura drives back to the hospital and Jane sits in the front, their hands linked between their seats. Angela and Frankie sit in the back in silence. They had waited outside in the hallway until Jane and Maura finally came out ready to go. Jane had muttered her apologies, but Angela simply kissed her on the cheek and released her.

When they reach the hospital doors, Maura is sure that Jane will let go. But their hands are still linked, in fact Jane doubles her grip and Maura can't help, but smile. Hospitals aren't as bad when Jane's holding her hand. In fact, the whole world is noticeably better.