Things you don't see


NA: I don't know where I'm gonna go from here, but this fic will definitely be a multi-chapter ;) Hope you like it. Don't know if it'll turn out to be a Rizzles one though. I love reviews, so, please – do not hesitated, just leave one. You can even yell at me, I won't mind. I like to read what other people think ;)


Chapter one

While I'm here cutting through layers of skin, muscles, adipose tissue and bones, my best friend is out there, catching the bad guys, making this world a better place. She is strong, fearless, sentimental; she is everything I've ever wanted to be. She has the perfect family – although she says it's not, unless my conception of perfect family involves yelling, divorces, brothers spending some time in jail; she has an amazing career, she is a fighter.

Jane is the kind of person you never thought you'd be friends with, because you have nothing in common. When we first met she was dressed as a hooker, almost begging for something to eat at the station's café. By that time, I didn't know she was a cop. I didn't know she was undercover. I didn't know she was Jane Rizzoli. And I specially didn't know she would turn out to be my best friend.

She is sarcastic, she is kind, she is always there for you when you most need someone to talk to.

Once I told her I had never had a best friend and this was true until the moment our friendship grew stronger, until the moment that spending a whole day without talking to her started to be something weird, like if our days were missing something if we spent 24 hours without talking to each other.

She is my best friend. At work, out of work, when I need a shoulder to cry or someone to rely. She is there. Always there.

And now it's my turn to be there for her. Because a woman always needs a best friend when love turns out to be a bitch on you.

It kills me to see her the way she is now. Wandering around like a ghost. Always looking down. This is not the Jane Rizzoli I first met. This is not the fighter I'm used to see everyday, sitting by the Boston's PD homicide department. This is not my best friend.

I approached her; she was sitting by her desk, her black curls tangled among her fingers. She was staring at a blank page that was lying on her desk. As I said, I've never seen Jane like this.

"I brought you some coffee. Seems like you need some, Jane." – I put my hand on her back and give her a comforting rub.

"Hey… Maura. Thanks."

She looked up at me and placed the coffee a few inches from her reach.

"Jane. That's enough. Someone has to do something. I can't keep staring at you like this. This is not the Jane Rizzoli I'm used to know. This is not the homicide detective everybody here is used to know. I know that this situation is not what you've wanted. I know you'd be better if Casey was here, conscious, but he is not. And you can't give up on this fight, Jane. You are a fighter. You always keep fighting until you have the strength to keep doing it. You are the one that keeps fighting when everybody had already given up. And you are supposed to be doing it now. Casey is still here. He might be in a coma and I told you this could happen, but I also told you that he might get out of it. That he can come back to you. You just have to keep fighting for it. Keep believing in it. So start it by drinking your coffee and stop wandering around like a ghost. This is not you!"

She stared at me like I was a monster. Like I was someone that was trying to intrude on her life. But, deep inside she knew I was just being her best friend. I might have been a little bit harsh on her, but Jane Rizzoli has a life to live and I can't keep pretending that everything is okay or that everything is going to be okay when it clearly is not. I can't keep trying to fool myself. Casey won't come back. Jane won't have him back. He has been in coma for three months now and it's all due to a stupid clot that traveled all it's way up to his brain during a stupid surgery he decided to have. It was pure bad luck. Or maybe it wasn't supposed to be.

I'm not that kind of person who believes in fate. But, sometimes, it's easier to believe that things are and are not meant to be. It seems to be comforting when you see the world this way.

I can't imagine how she is feeling. I've never been in this situation. I've never had someone I really loved hanging in a life or death situation. To be honest, I've never loved someone the way Jane loves Casey, so I can't judge her for how she is feeling, but I have to be the strong one now, to show her she has to get back to who she was, that life keeps moving on and so does she.

"Maura, I'm trying, okay? I'm giving my best, but I believe you can – at least – imagine how I'm feeling now. So do not step on my wounds. Do not throw some acid on my now, because it's totally gonna hurt."

That's what she said after my "wake up" shake up. And this is what had been on my mind since I left the department. I want to call her to make sure she is okay, but – at the same time – I'm ashamed of myself for being so rude and impolite to her. This is not me. Or this is me being sincere.

"You've reached Jane Rizzoli. I can't pick up right now, so – please – leave a message after the beep."

As I said, I wanted to call her.

"Jane, it's me, Maura. I'm sorry for what I said to you this morning. I'm sorry I was so rude. I shouldn't have said what I said, but I'm worried about you. Just give me a call when you see this message. Please."


And now, it's already 3 am and she hasn't called me back. I don't know what to do. Maybe she is at the hospital, sleeping by Casey's bed, or – maybe she is at home – trying to sleep after all.

I just can't keep lying here, fooling myself to sleep, while my best friend is somewhere needing me.