Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli nor do I own Isles. This is a story created by a fan for the fans. No money is made off of these words.
A/N - First R/I ff...feel free to assault me with scathing criticism but please be nice about it. I'm a writer; my ego is big but fragile. Read, review, enjoy.
Update Schedule: This story is complete so at this point I'm just editing. Chapters will be, hopefully, updated on a day-to-day basis.
Maura Isles pulled up to the large brownstone apartment complex that housed her best friend, Jane Rizzoli, and found herself hoping, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, Jane hadn't forgot about their pre-planned movie night. She had planned this activity for the two of them in order to cheer her friend up after the shooting that occurred several weeks prior, but, keeping plans with Jane lately had been like pulling teeth from a recalcitrant six-year-old.
Maura understood the constant stresses of representing the thin blue line for Boston, her duties as the resident chief medical examiner for the department ensured this, but she couldn't help feeling that Jane's blaming of her lack of mental organization seemed like a cop-in to Maura. Wait, that wasn't right, confusion running rampant through her soul. No matter how much she tried, Maura just couldn't get the endless variety of colloquialisms that Jane seemed to love using so much.
With a firm shake of her honey-colored locks, Maura opened the door to her Aston Martin DB9 before gingerly closing the driver door. A car fancier, she was not, but the last thing she wanted to do was ruin the luxurious car's paint job; not to mention, her favorite little man was sitting on the passenger side. Bass, a fifteen year-old African Spurred tortoise, hated disturbances in his environment, a characteristic shared by his lifelong partner. Unlike the various relationships she had had in her life, Bass was easy to please, loyal, and completely free of judgment. No matter the frequency of Jane's frequent sarcastic responses concerning Maura's pet, she loved Bass completely. Nothing could take his place in her heart…besides the alluring beauty of the curly-haired brunette she was about to see.
She calmly grabbed Bass and slung his travelling Hermes bags from the passenger seats, ignoring the various looks from youthful pedestrians and looked up earnestly at Jane's window. I think my body temperature just increased and my muscles are contracting quicker than a normal rate for a healthy woman in my age range. What is going on with me? Why does Jane make me feel this way, more importantly?
She had never experienced such elation upon interacting with anyone, nonetheless another woman she was employed with. Yes, Maura admitted to herself as she began walking up the steps to Jane's home, she had to admit to herself that there was a certain level of sexual tension between the two of them, but her medical experience told her that her attraction to Jane was just a natural hormonal response to the stress she put herself under every day and the lack of sexual activity in her life at the moment. On the days when the blonde desired a more substantial line of logic to explain away her attraction, the principle of the appeal of contrasting personalities was a popular choice.
But that was hardly what irked Maura the most about her inappropriate hormonal response to Jane's presence. Her response was logical with several years of documented hypotheses with pages of experimental methods that could be properly replicated in the lab settings she was all too familiar with; however, it was Maura's aching heart that was unexplainable with her years of procured knowledge. What she felt was beyond simple attraction, love was more correct diagnosis of her symptoms. Attraction was logical; a biological response to pheromones being released. Love was, however, illogical; it's impossible to analyze adequately with the numbers and linguistics that Maura loved, relied on as backbone to her very essence.
Years of higher education had taught the blonde that love was a concept sold to the highest bidder; it had no place in a true scientific mind of high-caliber. Just the simple acknowledgement that she could be in love with Jane Rizzoli physically made her ill. The paralyzing heart palpitations, increased production of hormones that led to a similar increase in pleasurable feelings, and the shortness of breath always led to the one conclusion that, according to Jane's quaint lexicon, scared the shit out of her.
She couldn't fall in love with Jane. She couldn't fall in love again. I've already made that mistake with men who always end up breaking my heart in every way possible. Being with Jane shouldn't be any different…but, God; I really want this to be different with her.
A small sigh of exhaustion managed to sneak from Maura's throat as she finished the seemingly never-ending trudge up the steps to Jane's apartment with Bass in tow. Three knocks on Jane's white apartment door announced her presence, her heart-rate shuddering to a stop in expectation. Minutes of uncomfortable silence passed and Maura's reptilian friend began to move his scaly limbs in an effort to escape the blonde's strong hold, yet the door still remained closed. Damn it, Jane. We had plans. Why is it so hard for you remember these sorts of things?
She looked down at Bass with a pitying frown before placing him on the ground, "Sorry, honey, but Mommy has to figure out where Jane is. Can you believe she's forgotten about our plans to hang out tonight?" A smile graced her lips when Bass looked up at Maura briefly before returning his head inside his shell. I wish I could hide inside a shell, nothing to hurt me.
The small beam of light coming from inside Jane's apartment signified the brunette's presence so why wasn't she answering Maura's knocks? Had she offended Jane in some way that would cause this sudden decision to ignore her presence? Questions raced through her mind as Maura gave one last effort to knock; if she didn't answer Maura decided she would call the police but would the police knock down the door to one of their own just because the medical examiner was worried? There was no need hypothesizing about that question, it was an obvious no. Maura's heart was threatening to ram through her ribcage as the fluttering palpitations began to rise into an unbearable crescendo of unbearable anxiety. God, where are you, Jane?
Finally, a shuffling comes from inside the apartment as locks were disengaged methodically and lazily before the door opened, slowly revealing the same slightly disorganized apartment that the blonde had grown accustomed to over the last couple of months. Jane, however, was nowhere to be found and Maura looked quizzically at the opened door.
"Jane, unless you've developed the skill to create an opening device for your apartment, I think it's best that you stop hiding behind the door." Maura sighed before lifting Bass up from the floor and walking inside the shambled apartment. "Why did you take so long to answer the door? I was about to leave, in all honesty."
Turning around to face Jane, Maura saw why she was so obviously hesitant to open the door. Her curly hair was tangled in knots that appeared as if they hadn't seen a brush since returning from the hospital, usually playful brown eyes were muddled with sleep, and her pale arms hung limply from her trim athletic frame.
Jane closed the door tentatively before shuffling back to her residence on the lumpy old couch with several colorful assortments of sheets, tumbled with obvious use, "So…did you see that I brought Bass? Because, you know, you asked me to last week…you remember, right? When you told me you wanted to hang out and to 'bring that shellfish along if you want.' I assumed you meant Bass, despite the fact that he's not a mollusk."
"What are you talking about? How could we have plans when I haven't seen you since I got back from the hospital?" Jane muttered before her voice caught in her throat before she looked down and saw Bass staring back up at her. "God, I still don't understand how you live with a tortoise."
"How do you live with a dog?" Maura replied disinterestedly before making a spot on the recliner nearest the makeshift bed.
Jane rolled her eyes before turning toward Maura, her unease obvious. "Well…that's not fair, Maura. Living with a dog is different because dogs are, you know, cuddly and dependable. Come on, even you have to acknowledge the benefits to being comforted after a hard day of work with Joe Friday than hugging a reptile with no ears, scales, and a 16 pound shell that feels like hugging a tree without the bark. There's nothing dependable about a tortoise unless you count the fact that you always know where they are, since they can't move that fast."
"Dependable, adjective, meaning to be capable of depending on or reliable. I think a tortoise classifies as reliable, Jane," she replied innocently before grabbing the nearest couch cushion and throwing it softly toward her best friend's comforter covered head, "and stop trying to change the subject. Why didn't you answer the door after the first knock? I thought you had collapsed."
Peeking out from her fort of sheets, Jane's tangled mass of loose chocolate brown curls framed her mischievous eyes, Maura's heart clenched in response. Even I can't stay mad at Jane when she looks so damn cute all the time.
"Fine, fine, I'm sorry for making you worry and feel emotions that bring you even closer to the flawed human race. I don't know what I was thinking. God, maybe I should arrest myself for being such a jerk all the time," she sarcastically mused in a whisper just loud enough for Maura to hear, "oh yeah, now I remember, I was so busy recovering from shooting myself last month after the siege on BPD. But really, Maura, I'm so sorry for making you worry and being so damn selfish."
"If you used half of that abundant wit on getting better, instead of cracking sarcastic jabs at your best friend, who might as well be your only friend, you'd be cleared for active duty already." Maura smiled sweetly at Jane's still hidden face before getting up and attempting to tidy up the area around the couch where Jane lay. "Several studies developed by the Mayo Clinic determined that sarcastic patients recovering from life-threatening injuries are less likely to heal sufficiently in order to return to work than patients with similar injuries who have positive outlooks."
"Thank god, I have you all to myself, Maura. I'd probably be dead in a ditch if it wasn't for your endless knowledge of meaningless facts and figures," rolling her eyes at the tired brunette's continued sarcasm, Maura began opening Bass's travel bags she had brought with her and began setting up a brightly colored playpen for the tortoise slowly investigating Jane's living room.
A sigh of exhaustion echoed through the room as Jane's eyes hit the shocking pinks and yellows of the playpen area that Maura had begun putting together in the middle of her living room. "What the hell is that? Please tell me you aren't setting a playpen up for an animal that moves at the same pace as my grandfather, who had arthritis in his knees."
Maura looked up briefly before resuming her task of connecting the various plastic pieces together. Despite Jane's obvious disapproval, she knew her pet tortoise and could provide statistical evidence proving the increase of Bass's mood when he was in a surrounded enclosure that he was familiar with, but she had a feeling that would not be enough evidence for the amused brunette.
With a small caress of his smooth shell, Maura cooed softly to the tortoise before picking him up and placing him in his playpen. Immediately, Bass removed his head from his shell and began to, albeit slowly, move around his protected enclosure.
"You are just the cutest little reptile in the whole wide world, Bass. Are you hungry? I've brought some lovely organic kale and, if you're a good boy for Auntie Jane, I'll give you some of those British strawberries you're so fond of," Maura cooed while petting the top of his leathery head lovingly.