A/N: Apparently I cannot write anything unless it is AU.
"I can never decide if they're worth buying or not."
Maura is startled, slightly, because she's hardly had any sort of interaction for hours. She's worked herself into somewhat of daze, tucked deeply away into her own mind. She's surprised to be tugged away, as she mindlessly combs through a stack of neck pillows she has no intention of purchasing.
"On my last flight," the woman continues, "I fell asleep against the window at a weird angle and woke up with a throbbing neck." She rubs it now, as if remembering it is still tender. "Started thinking, what the hell, maybe I should invest in one." Her voice is a deep, lovely tenor. Maura recognizes her; she noticed her ordering coffee at Mocha Madness several hours before, her lean frame propped up against the countertop as she ran a hand through her tangled mess of curls, fiery with impatience. Maura had looked for too long.
"Sorry, sorry," she apologizes when Maura doesn't answer. "It wasn't my intention to harass you while you're shopping. My flight's just gotten delayed twice now, and I'm going a bit stir-crazy."
"Mine as well." Maura's voice is flat in comparison, an insubstantial wisp.
"Hmm?" The woman touches a copy of People magazine, curious about the latest Kardashian gossip or something of the sort for a fraction of a second. She turns back to Maura, a small smile on her lips.
"My flight has been delayed several times as well." Maura answers, more confidently now. "Crazy weather," she comments quickly. A tropical storm of some sorts has had them laid up for several hours now.
"Seriously, though. Where are you headed?" Her interest surprises Maura. She isn't accustomed to polite interactions with strangers amounting to much of anything.
"Boston," she answers.
"No shit. Me too! What are the odds? I mean, I know we're in an airport and all, but the fact that we're waiting for the same flight…I'm rambling. Sorry about that. I'm Jane, by the way." She grins, effortlessly.
"I'm Maura. It's nice to meet you, Jane." She turns, extending her free hand.
Jane's palm is rough, decorated with a fleshy scar, but it leaves Maura feeling warm. "Great to meet you, too. Honestly, I was about to die from boredom."
"It is very unlikely to die of boredom," Maura comments, and realizes almost immediately that Jane has used that pesky little thing called sarcasm. She's a little pink, but she continues. "Well, I doubt you can die directly from boredom, but there have been studies that show that people who are chronically bored are at a higher risk for heart complications."
"No kidding," she chews on this information for a moment. They've retired the neck pillows, and there's hardly anything left of interest to explore in the tiny shop. "So, Maura," Jane continues (Maura loves it immediately when she says her name), "what are you plans for the evening, as we wait in bated anticipation for our updated flight information?"
Maura can't settle on her angle; she's flattering herself to suspect sincere interest. After all, beyond a pretty face and a brain teeming with more information than most people would care to ever know, she finds she has little to offer in the companionship department. "Dinner, I suppose. I have yet to eat."
"Would it be too forward of me to ask you to dinner? I've been craving Chinese food all day, and there's that place over in the food court. I mean, if that's okay with you. I'll eat almost anything if I'm being honest, so I'm good if you pick. Assuming you even agree to eat with me." She pauses to catch her breath. She's nervous. She's nervous, and Maura marvels at the fact as soon as she processes it. It settles her own stomach just a bit.
"No, Chinese sounds fantastic. And yes, obviously, I'd love to dine with you." There is a warmth welling in her chest.
"There it is," Jane chuckles.
Maura's brow knits, worried and slightly panicked. "There's what?"
"Your smile. I've been waiting for it."
Maura chews on her lip. She feels her grin spread wider. "Are you ready to go eat?"
XXX
"Oh, this? It's from my kid." Jane reaches for the pink yarn around her neck, adorned with painted macaroni. "She'd be heartbroken if I took it off. " She laughs a little, touches a piece of penne.
Maura smiles, her lips around her straw, before nudging a piece of chicken with the nose of her chopstick. They're in the food court dining area, an array of cheap, yet satisfying dishes surrounding them. It's hardly quiet or private as the hum of the hectic airport buzzes around them, yet there's still something strangely intimate about it all.
"What's her name?"
"Alexis. Lexi, I usually call her. Little spitfire. Three-years-old. I have a picture, if you want to see." She reaches for her phone. "But if I'm talking too much about her, just say so. I promise, I'm not one of those moms."
"No, I'd like to see." Maura doesn't offer merely out of courtesy. There's something about Jane, something so genuine. She drinks it all in.
Maura takes the phone. Jane's daughter is a tiny little thing, with dark curls, dusky skin, eyes wild with life. "She looks like you."
Jane smiles, taking the phone back, glancing fondly at her phone before tucking it back in her pocket. She waits a moment, for her to mention something about the father, but she doesn't, and her ring finger is enticingly bare. Instead, Jane cracks open her fortune cookie, unraveling the small sheet of paper and brushing the crumbs away.
"This could be an almost perfect day. Enjoy it."
XXX
"You can't be very comfortable like that," Maura observes. She glances up from the medical journal smoothed out in her lap.
Jane turns her next, letting out a small grunt. She has situated herself upside down in one of the chairs by the gate, the waxy surface squeaking as she tries to settle into a comfortable position, draping her long legs over the back and resting her neck against her backpack.
"It's better than my ass going numb again," she grumbles. Her agitation is childish and unintentionally endearing. Maura looks back down toward the journal, though she continues to sneak glances as Jane fidgets.
"What are you reading anyway?" Jane has closed her eyes and folded her hands against her stomach. Maura smiles into the back of her hand.
"The New England Journal of Medicine." Reading is a generous term. She can't get past the first paragraph.
"Really?" Jane opens her eyes, craning her neck to find Maura's face. She moves one of her arms to prop up her neck.
"I'm a doctor – a cardiovascular surgeon," she provides helpfully.
"No kidding. Wow. What hospital do you work at?"
Maura tucks her leg up onto the chair, letting the journal slide closed. "Massachusetts General."
"I work at the BPD – so not far from you," Jane answers. There's an excitement, buzzing between the two of them, as fate seems to continually sanction their unexpected connection.
"So I should be addressing you as Officer Jane then?" It's flirtier than she meant it to sound; perhaps too flirty.
Jane doesn't seem to mind. She pulls herself up (Maura watches her biceps contract and then needs to look away rather quickly), and readjusts herself in her chair, looking a bit bashful. "Detective, actually. Detective Rizzoli."
"Now I'm impressed," Maura answers.
Jane shrugs, immediately modest. "So why are you in Charleston, Dr. Isles?"
She opens her mouth to answer her, when it suddenly dawns on her. "How do you know my last name?" She can't recall using it in her introduction.
Jane laughs, obviously quite proud of herself. "It says it, right there on the address of your magazine subscription –
"Journal." Maura inserts quietly.
"-and, I noticed it on your credit card when you tried to pay for dinner." Futile attempt. Jane had swooped in immediately and purchased the entire meal for the two.
Maura continues to look flustered.
"Detective, remember?" Jane reminds her. "And you have yet to answer my question."
She settles back into her chair. "Layover. I was at a medical conference in Chicago. And you?"
"Visiting my brother Tommy. He just graduated from the Marine Corps Bootcamp. I was the only one in my family who managed to get off work, so I figured I'd come see the little fucker." Maura's eyebrow twitches in surprise at the casual use of the vulgarity. "Long story, about Tommy. We love him even though he's made very many poor life choices. The Marines is probably one of the only mature decisions he's made, actually. He -"
She's interrupted as the intercom buzzes to life. "Due to severe weather conditions, we will not be servicing anymore flights out of Charleston tonight. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please go to the desk at your gate, and we will gladly help book a seat for you on the next available flight to your destination. Again, we apologize for any inconvenience."
"Shit, are they serious?" Jane groans, slumping into her chair in quite an exasperated manner.
Maura inhales deeply, though her disappointment wanes quickly. After all, she doesn't have anyone waiting at home. She rises from her seat, trying not to smile at the disgruntled heap that Jane has become, her dramatics quite amusing. "Are you coming or not?" She offers Jane her hand.
Jane takes it, grasping it as she heaves herself up. "I suppose so." The scar once again presses into Maura's palm, but this time she's expecting it, and there's something lovely and familiar about it now. "After all, we've already stuck together this long."
