Author's note: This fanfic starts at the end of episode 5.02 after Barry Frost's funeral.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the TV show Rizzoli and Isles. They belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT (or maybe just TNT? Who know how these things work).
CHAPTER 1
Now that the tears had finally come, Jane didn't know how they were ever going to stop again. Although she hadn't had any doubt that Frost was really gone—she had seen his dead body covered by the gray blanket lying next to his wrecked car—it had nevertheless seemed unreal to her. It had been too sudden, too unexpected, too brutal. Even when she delivered the eulogy at his funeral, while she meant every word she said, she found herself thinking, Is this really happening? Am I really talking about Barry at his own funeral? Somehow the awful truth of his death had been elusive, difficult to thoroughly grasp. She had known he was gone, but somehow the full knowledge of the tragedy hadn't taken possession of her mind and body yet. It was as if it had existed outside of her, and some protective veil kept it at bay. But now the veil was gone and her body took full possession of the loss of her partner and friend. She felt herself drown in the most overwhelming sadness, despair, and anger.
Ultimately, it had been a simple postcard that had lifted the veil. The message had been so short and simple, so like Frost. "Couldn't be better here, but I miss you anyway. Barry." How could someone write you that and then be dead a few days later? How could someone write his friend such a simple yet wonderful I miss you and I'm thinking of you card, then get in a car, crash, and die? How did the universe allow such a thing to happen? The incongruity of the sweet postcard and Frost's horrific death finally made the nightmare real to her. She pictured him writing the card, showing her in such a small yet significant way that he cared about her, that she was important to him. And then the vision of his lifeless body came back to her, the eerie calm that had surrounded the scene on the highway despite all the sirens and the people coming and going. This had really happened. And it had happened to this man she loved dearly. He had often put on a tough façade during their investigations and during the questioning of suspects, but he was ultimately such a gentle soul. And now he was gone. Gone for good. And she could do nothing to fix it, to bring him back. And it all made no sense, and it was all so unfair.
So Jane cried and cried and cried. Feeling unable to remain standing, she had let herself slide down to the floor, her back pressed against the side of the kitchen counter. At first she had hoped that the tears might do her some good as her mother and Maura and Korsak had all maintained. Perhaps a good cry was really what was needed. Perhaps it would prove cathartic. Perhaps this was a necessary stage of the grieving process that Maura had talked about and would allow her to come to terms with Barry's death.
But as the tears kept falling and as she continued to sob, the pain of the realization that Barry really was gone only seemed to get worse. She felt her heart starting to race and contract, causing her to wince at the pain in her chest. She found it increasingly difficult to breathe. After a while her whole body started to shake, and Jane wondered whether she might actually be having a panic attack. The world seemed to retract from around her, leaving her with nothing but dark emptiness and her own agony and panic. Was it possible to pass out from crying like this? Was that something that actually happened to people? Wrapping her arms more tightly around her legs, she dug her fingernails into her calves, hoping to regain some of her bearings. But although she felt the pressure exerted by her fingernails, she felt completely disconnected from the pain. She wondered briefly whether screaming might help, but then realized that her shallow breathing and violent sobbing would make any kind of scream impossible.
And so she sat there, unable to find a way to gain control over her own body, and, amidst the sobs, thought of Barry. Sweet, gentle Barry. How could something like this have happened to someone so kind-hearted and good? There was no rhyme or reason. She thought of how caring and supportive he'd been of her after she shot herself, how wonderful he had been when his mother came to tell him that she and her partner Robin were a couple, how he and Frankie had been like brothers. And the tears continued to fall down onto her knees.
But then, just as she's about to curl up even further and hug her shins even more tightly, the world that had receded comes rushing back to her. As if awoken from a dream, the sounds and smell of the outside world reenter her consciousness. She realizes someone is knocking on the door and hears a muffled "Jane." She wonders how long the knocking has been going on and whether it is possible to hear her sobbing on the other side of the door. The sudden intrusion manages to momentarily halt the violent sobs as Jane tries to figure out what to do. She realizes she must shout and send the person away, but then she hears a key turn in the lock. She glances up while a frantic "Please..." leaves her lips.
It would have been followed by a "leave me alone!" but it is already too late. Maura Isles has stepped into her apartment and has closed the door behind her. At the sight of her friend on the floor, Maura gasps. "Oh my God, Jane," she cries out, dropping her purse and a paper bag she's holding, and rushing over to the detective.
Realizing Maura is walking over to her, Jane looks down at the floor, suddenly feeling painfully exposed and embarrassed. She utters a quiet, "Maura, please," entreating her friend to leave her be, to let her be on her own, to not see her like this.
But Maura kicks off her high heels, kneels down at Jane's side, and takes her friend into her arms, rather awkwardly embracing the crouched Jane who's still holding on to her legs.
If the shock of seeing Maura and feeling her friend's arms around her had momentarily halted her sobs, the physical contact now brings on a new onslaught of tears. Jane turns to her right where Maura has pressed her body against Jane's side. She lets go of her legs and turns her body fully so she can wrap Maura into her arms. Once she's fully embraced the medical examiner, she holds on to her so tightly that Maura can feel the air being squeezed out of her lungs. And then, in her friend's arms, Jane allows herself to fall apart. She sobs and shakes, tears streaming down her face. With their chests pressed so tightly together, Maura can feel Jane's heart pounding against hers. Maura gently strokes the back of Jane's head with one hand, firmly holding on to her with her other arm, whispering soothing "Ssshhhhhhh"s to the rhythm of her strokes.
After spending several minutes like this, Jane finally starts to calm down. As her sobs subside, she realizes how utterly exhausted she is. Maura notices that Jane's breathing has become more regular and that she has stopped crying and is about to pull back. But as Jane feels Maura loosen her grasp, ready to let go of her, a slight panic besets her again. Jane is so spent that all she can think of is that she'll collapse if Maura lets go, so she holds on with all the strength left in her body. Feeling Jane tighten the embrace again, Maura pulls her closer, whispering reassuringly, "Hey. I've got you. I've got you." Maura feels Jane's chest expand as her friend breathes in deeply, trying to regain her composure.
After several deep breaths, Jane quietly whimpers, "Maura, Barry, he…." Then she stops. She wants to express some of what she's feeling, explain how she ended up like this, on the floor, a complete mess. She wants to explain how Frost's death suddenly hit her like a brick wall, how it seemed to her that her heart literally broke. But she can't find the right words.
When Maura realizes nothing more is coming, she pulls back, looks Jane in the eye, wipes away a tear from her friend's cheek and says, "I know, Jane. I know."
And in that moment, Jane realizes that Maura does know and that she does not judge her, that she is safe with her. In those brown eyes she sees nothing but love and warmth and acceptance and concern. And before she fully realizes what she's doing, she has planted a kiss on Maura's lips, reveling in the softness and comfort she finds there. But then, not a second later, with a shock she becomes aware of what she's doing and pulls back. With a hint of terror in her eyes, she starts, pleadingly, "Maura, I'm so sorry, I…."
But before she can continue, Maura has placed a hand on the back of Jane's head and has pulled her closer, placing her lips gently on Jane's. When Jane realizes what Maura is doing, her heart skips a beat. She can barely believe it. To have this kiss reciprocated, to know that in this moment Maura is willing to give her what she so desperately needs, perhaps even needing this communion as much as Jane does, is almost too much to take in. Jane is amazed at how soft Maura's lips are, how perfect they feel between her own. She continues to kiss her friend gently yet intently for a long time, letting her lips linger between Maura's for as long as she can before pulling away slowly only to allow them to reattach again in a slightly different, but equally wonderful, configuration. After the earlier panic and the sense of loss that had overwhelmed her so, Jane soaks up the comfort and love the kisses bring. To feel loved and cared for, to have Maura here with her after she felt so lost and alone, it fills her with gratitude.
After a long while, when their lips have started to tingle from all the kisses they have shared, Maura pulls back. She looks into Jane's dark eyes, giving her a quick smile full of love and reassurance. She plants a quick last peck on Jane's lips and says with a husky voice, "We should eat. I brought take-out." Maura moves out of the embrace, gets up, and puts on her heels again. She walks over to the place between the front door and the kitchen counter where she had dropped her purse and their food, and picks up the take-out. She brings the bag over to the kitchen and starts busying herself with dividing the couscous with roasted vegetables over two plates and opening a bottle of Californian Sauvignon Blanc. Jane remains seated, needing a minute to gather her wits about her. Then she also gets up, taking a moment to allow the pins and needles in her legs to dissipate, and joins Maura at the counter.