Yeah…I don't really know where this came from. I wanted to take Jane to a really dark place for some masochistic reason.
I do not own Rizzoli and Isles or its characters.
Jane sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. It'd been a long day. Hell, it'd been a long week. A long year. She cleared her throat as tears stung her eyes. Hastily, she wiped them away, using her key to unlock the front door and enter her home.
She heard her mother's voice right away, just like every other day. Loud and obnoxious, cutting through her solitude. She couldn't blame the woman. They'd all coped in different ways, but Angela had covered her grief in optimism, false as it was. But it wasn't for herself, just as Jane's attempts at recovery weren't. It was all for the little girl that was currently stirring a very large bowl of something in their kitchen.
"Stir it evenly, sweetie, and make sure you hold the handle," Angela instructed to her granddaughter.
"I am, Nonna," Amelia replied, her voice sounding joyful and relaxed.
Jane smiled at the temporary peace the house held. It was so rare nowadays that anyone in their family was happy, least of all herself.
"Hey there, you two. Ma, what are you teaching her now?"
Amelia's head snapped up at the sound of her mother's voice.
"Nonna's showing me how to make snickerdoodles," she said, laughing at the name.
Jane walked around the kitchen island, planting a kiss on her daughter's cheek and ruffling her hair, that hair so much like her mother's. Her breath hitched in her throat, something that did not go unnoticed by her own mother.
Angela encompassed Jane in a hug, rubbing her hand up and down her arm.
"How you doin, Janie?" she whispered in her daughter's ear.
Again, Jane felt tears in her eyes as she shook her head.
"Not a good day, Ma."
They both sighed, seeking comfort.
"Well…let's have dinner and let those cookies bake. Amelia's been working hard on them!"
She grinned proudly at the six-year-old who was still diligently stirring the mix. Angela took the spoon from her, doling it out on the tray and throwing it in the oven.
"Janie, will you set the table?"
Eventually, they found themselves sitting around the dinner table, the meal Angela had prepared being picked at as they ate in silence. Every so often, one of them would attempt to break the downtrodden mood, but, just as every other day, to no avail. Jane wondered when they could finally be a proper family again, but with a pang in her stomach remembered that they never could.
After they had all finished, the adults cleared the table while Amelia sat down on the couch to read. She was a brilliant little girl, and had started reading when she was just three years old. She was enrolled in a private school, and the only reason she hadn't already skipped two grades was because Jane didn't want her to be subject to any taunting about her age. She was on break right now for summer, and they were both glad to have the time to spend together.
"Thanks for watching her, Ma," Jane said, just as she did every day.
Angela hugged her daughter again, kissing her on the cheek.
"You gonna go see her today?"
Jane only nodded.
"Everything will be alright in time, sweetheart. Don't forget that. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."
Gathering her things, the older Rizzoli kissed her granddaughter, bidding them both farewell before leaving.
Jane made her way to her bedroom to change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, she could hardly believe she was the same person the mirror had shown a year ago, someone so full of happiness and love. Now, she was broken. Rubbing her eyes, she padded back out to the living room.
"Why don't you go put on your shoes, baby? We're gonna go see your mommy."
Jane grabbed her keys and waited for Amelia to return from her bedroom. When she did, she entwined her fingers in her daughter's, knowing how hard this was on both of them. They clambered into the car, seat belts clicking quietly as they pulled out of the driveway.
On their way, they stopped by the florist to pick up the flowers, today a dozen red roses to commemorate both something gained and something lost.
When they arrived, Jane helped Amelia out of the car, clutching her hand once again as they made their way through the cemetery. It was quiet, almost too quite, and the grass crunched under their feet, the direct result of the drought overtaking Boston. The path wove for what felt like an eternity, and finally, they reached their destination.
Jane kneeled down, touching the cool headstone, tracing the letters of the name she had memorized, the one that for so long she'd spoken like a prayer, the one she screamed in her sleep as nightmares claimed her now.
"Maura," she whispered, her breath escaping her, mingling with the autumn air and she knew beyond a doubt that she and Amelia were not alone in that moment.
She heard her daughter kneel down next to her, and, blindly, she grabbed for her small body and pulled her close. She felt Amelia's body shake as she cried.
"Why can't she come back, mama?"
Jane hadn't felt this torn up, this broken about Maura's death in months. She'd tried so hard to be strong for Amelia, for Maura, because they both deserved it. They deserved someone who wouldn't fall apart when someone mentioned Wikipedia, someone who wasn't stubborn and would go see a therapist, someone who wanted to move on.
"Sometimes…sometimes, Amelia, life doesn't work the way you want it to. But we still have each other, and we have to be strong. That's what mommy would've wanted."
She kissed the girl's forehead.
"Your mommy…she loved you more than she knew what to do with. And even though she's gone, we can't forget her, okay? We're still gonna love her like crazy."
"Does she still love me, mama?"
Jane felt her heart shatter. A child should never have to lose a mother, should never have to be woken in the middle of the night and dragged to a hospital. She should never have to be held by her uncle as she watched her mother fall to her knees in the emergency room, screaming and begging. She should never have to say goodbye to her mother after a drunk driver had already claimed her life.
Amelia Rizzoli should never have to wonder if she was loved.
Jane felt small arms wrap tighter around her neck and felt tears dropping onto her hair. She kissed every bit of her face she could reach, bringing a hand up to smooth over her daughter's honey-blond hair.
"Every day, baby. She loves you every single day."
They sat quietly in the cemetery, whispering prayers and sentiments to Maura. Jane couldn't believe it had already been 9 months since her wife was taken from them, tragically. She was forever haunted by the thought that she wasn't there to save her, least of all to say goodbye. Every time she promised to keep Maura safe had, in the end, been useless. She couldn't protect her from a truck twice the size of their SUV. Their job put them in danger every day, but Jane couldn't protect her from the highway.
She sighed, her tears finally beginning to cease. She kissed Amelia's head again, shaking her a little.
"Let's go home, baby. We'll come back soon, okay?"
Amelia nodded, releasing herself from her mother's arms and leaning over to kiss the headstone where Maura's name was engraved.
"I love you, mommy."
She stepped away, allowing Jane her final goodbye. Jane reached down, toying with the wedding ring she wasn't ready to take off yet.
"Happy anniversary, Maura. Marrying you will always be the best decision I ever made." She took a deep breath. "Thank you for never giving up on me. And thank you for our daughter. I love you."
Wiping her tears away, Jane stood, grabbing Amelia's hand and squeezing it. The little girl looked shaken, but there was, as always, a small spark of hope in her hazel eyes that reminded her so much of Maura. Amelia was a spitting image of her late mother, and Jane felt blessed that a piece of Maura could still exist with her.
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