A/N: So...I'm back. It's been a long while since A First Snow, but the new season has me writing again. I don't own the characters or the show (obviously) - I'm just borrowing them for my own amusement. Also...I do not have a BETA so I apologize for any distracting spelling/gramatical errors. This will most likely be a two-shot (possibly a 3-shot)- constructive criticism most welcome. It's been a while since I last wrote. ~Scaf
It was amazing how a transformative chain of events could come about, spurred by an innocuous, off-hand conversation. It was truly the little things in life – minor observations, unexplained feelings, a whisper that meant to go unheard - that when recognized made all the difference in the world. Maura Isles shuddered through a labored breath and swiped at the tears that wouldn't seem to stop flowing. It was just another movie night. That's all it was supposed to be. Another documentary, another shared pizza, another glass of wine. It had started out so normal. How the hell had it gone so wrong?
"You stole a slice of my pepperoni"
"I did not such thing," Maura scoffed, hiding her smirk behind her glass of wine.
"You'll get hives"
"I'm not lying."
"You are totally lying." Jane Rizzoli eyed her best friend and finished off her beer. "I'm gonna grab another, you want me to top of your wine?"
"Mmm.I shouldn't." Maura cocked her head to the side and shook her golden locks in the negative.
Jane groaned and poured the last of the pinot in Maura's glass despite her friend's protest,
"Why not? We're not on call this weekend and you could use some liquid relaxation after dealing with Hope's infuriating insensitivity and Doyle's shit attitude. Besides, one bottle of wine really only has 2 glasses, Maur."
"Actually, one bottle of wine typically holds 750ml which translates to 25.4 fluid ounces. Considering my glass should hold around 5 ounces, one could assume one of my bottles should equal approximately 5 glasses of wine."
"Are you serious right now?"
"It's all in the pour, Jane. You pour a glass of wine as though it was a cup of juice; you're not supposed to pour to the rim."
"One. I've never heard you complain before. And two, it's not my fault your wine glasses are inadequate. A quarter of a glass does not constitute a serving. It's like saying there are 4 servings in a pint of Ben & Jerry's."
The blonde shook her head at the wildly gesticulating Italian,
"One. I now have one kidney where I used to have two. As a result, my glomerular filtration rate is lower than standard, which means waste from my bloodstream isn't removed as efficiently as it once was. And two, there are four servings in a pint of ice cream"
"Pfft…I should use that global ruler thingy to measure what remains of the pizza because I could swear there was a slice of pepperoni there not 20 minutes ago."
The best friends burst into simultaneous laughter.
Jane loved this - loved the back and forth with her best friend. It had been far too long since they sat together like this, enjoying one another's company. Especially after the last few weeks they had endured. Between Maura's return to work post operation, Doyle's trial, and the increased homicide rate in the city of Boston – thank you June heat wave – there had been little rest for the crime fighting duo. Especially for Maura, who had to clean up Pike's egregious autopsy errors with far less stamina and patience.
Jane knew she should be concentrating on the Marilyn Monroe documentary currently playing out on Maura's 62 inch plasma, but the detective was finding it hard to concentrate. Maura had been distant lately, more somber. Jane's immature impatience regarding Maura's mood swings most always manifested in teasing that often bordered on cruel taunting. The best friends hadn't had a real conversation in months and it was weighing on the weary detective.
"It's sad, huh?"
"What's sad?"
Jane shrugged, "Monroe. I mean outwardly she looked like she had it all. Women wanted to be her, men wanted to be with her and she was just ….lonely. The men she loved used her – everyone did. This documentary is depressing."
Maura eyed Jane carefully. Two seconds ago they had been joking around and laughing. Now the mood had shifted and she wasn't sure why.
"People get used, Jane. People are left." Maura was certainly familiar with that harsh reality. "It happens every day whether you're famous or not."
Jane nodded and after a beat, pushed forward with the conversation. "Sometimes I feel lonely too, you know. This job, the kind of life we lead isn't easy."
Maura watched as Jane pulled at the label on her bottle. She knew the detective was purposely avoiding eye contact. Jane's usual disregard for emotional confessions was so prevalent that this one revelation halted Maura's breath. The ME wasn't at all prepared for an emotional Jane and as a result, was unsure as to how to proceed.
"Maybe you just miss Casey."
"Gah! I told you before; it was a relief when he left. I don't want to talk about him."
"I'm glad he left" Maura murmured under her breath. The confession was so low, she was nearly certain Jane hadn't heard.
Jane turned to face her friend, "I thought you liked him?"
"I don't like the way he treated you or the way you were when you were around him. He treated you so poorly. He's in and out of your life with blatant disregard for your feelings."
"And I put up with it like an idiot. That's not like me. "
"No. It isn't like you at all. But I think….I think you were just trying to hold on to something that represented a simpler time in your life. Before Hoyt. Before the natural hardness that comes with the job." Maura pushed forward, "It's the idea of him, of what he represents, I think, that continually draws you to him. The innocence of a first love – the idea of love and what it should represent."
The documentary was now long forgotten, the gentle, muted hum of an actor's voice serving as a soundtrack to the most honest conversation either woman had in ages.
"What about you?" Jane asked carefully. She knew of Maura's past – the hurt, the loneliness, the abject neglect. While the detective didn't want to bring up painful memories, she did want to know where Maura's head was at.
"What about me?"
"I just…You seem different. Sad. I feel you pulling away from me and I don't know how to fix it. I joke and tease but sometimes that only seems to make things worse.
"I'm fine, really." Maura could feel the hives begin to form and rolled her eyes when Jane pointed to her chest.
"Okay. I'm lonely too, Jane. Is that what you want to hear?"
"Maura, don't be mad. I just…there hasn't been anyone in a while – since everything with Den..."
"Don't even utter his name."
"Maur, when was the last time you went on a date?"
Maura simply shrugged and pulled at the seam on her blanket, "I don't need anyone, Jane. I told you before, I just don't see marriage in my future. So, there's really no point in dating. It's exhausting – inane conversation and empty connections. Do you have any idea how hard it is to temper my google-talk, as you so eloquently put it? There are only so many times a woman can watch a man's eye's glaze over before it becomes hurtful."
"But what about immunoglobal A and sex and…."
"I'm perfectly capable of getting myself off, Jane. I don't need a man for that."
Jane faltered. For the briefest of moments she pictured Maura writhing under her own hand, but as she had always managed in the past, Jane pushed it from her mind and focused on the woman before her.
"It's Ian, isn't it? He was the love of your life and now he's gone."
Maura shook her head. If only Jane knew the truth of the matter. Ian was nothing more than a memory to her now, representative of her own period of innocence and naïveté regarding the notion of love. It was Jane. It had been Jane all along – right from the beginning. Only she hadn't opened herself up to the possibility, hadn't dare dreamed of it until the Doyle shooting, the near end of their friendship. She had felt Jane's absence more than anyone else. More than Garrett or Ian or even her own parents.
"No. You want another beer?" Maura vaulted of the couch and toward the fridge. By the time Jane reacted and followed the doctor into the kitchen, Maura had already made quick work of opening a beer and another bottle of wine.
"Maura stop with the beer and wine. What is it? Is he back? What aren't you telling me?"
"He's not back, Jane. I haven't heard from him since he left 2 years ago. And I can say without a doubt that he is not the love of my life. Maybe he never was."
"Is there someone else?"
"No." The hives were back again – and this time with a vengeance. Maura could feel her breathing pattern become slightly more erratic. She shouldn't have had that last glass of wine. Her head felt fuzzy.
Jane moved around the counter to steady her friend but was shocked when Maura pulled away, hitting her back against the stove.
"Maur what the hell?"
"Let's just finish the documentary."
"The show is over, Maura" Jane grabbed her friend's wrist and spun her around as the blonde tried to escape to the living room "Talk to me."
Maura shook her head violently, "I can't…I don't"
"Jesus, calm down you're gonna pass out."
"I can't tell you."
"Yes, you can"
"I can't. You'll leave and then I'll really be alone and I can't lose this ….friendship. I can't lose yet another person."
"You won't lose me. You'll never lose me because I'm not going anywhere – And you're not making any sense!"
"It's you." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. The tears she had been keeping at bay made a quick appearance, as well. She shouldn't have had the wine. Too much wine. She felt sick.
"What's me? I don't….Oh." Jane dropped Maura's wrist and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Maur..
"Don't. Please don't say anything. I just… I'm sorry for what I said and how I said it. I never meant for you to… I just. .."
"Maura…"
"Just go. Please just go, Jane. I'm going to bed. I need…I just need to close my eyes. I need to rest."
Jane watched helplessly as Maura hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.
Maura loved her?
And how did she feel. Jane Rizzoli had been fighting off gay rumors from the youngest of ages. Proving everyone wrong by trying to find love with the likes of Joey, Gabriel, and then Casey – men who never quite fit. Jane wiped her face, surprised by the tears she found there, wondering when she had started to cry.
The listless detective made her way over to the couch. Shutting off the tv, she pulled the blanket Maura had been using over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and tried to push thoughts of Maura from her head. This time, however, she just didn't have the strength to do it. Maura was around her and in her, and so ingrained in the fabric of her life that she wasn't sure where she ended and Maura began. Isn't that what love was – what love was supposed to be about?
Did she love Maura back? Was it possible? And if so, how had she been able to deny it this long?