Title: Goodbye is Never Forever
Author: tika12001
Rating: T
Summary: Sometimes, memories are the hardest things to face. And when it hurts so much that you feel like you can't breathe, you wish you could just forget. Maybe though, just maybe, memories are what will make you whole again.
Disclaimer: not mine, make no money, etc etc
Author's note: So I'm suffering from writer's block on my other stories and this popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I hope you like it, even though it's sad. Kind of an exploration into mourning, grief and the direction our minds go in when trying to handle it all... hopefully I've done the subject justice.
"Don't do this anymore, Jane."
"Don't do what?"Jane deliberately avoids looking at Korsak. She doesn't want to see the look in his eyes... the look that has been shining back at her far too often now: disappointment.
"She wouldn't want you..."
Jane cuts him off, her voice curt and angry. "Yeah, well, we don't know what she would want, do we? Not anymore."
"I get it, Jane, I do..."
"No." Jane rests her hands flat on the desk and looks up at him, staring him straight in the eyes. She doesn't blink, even when a tear breaks free and streaks down her cheek rebelliously. "No, you don't get it."
"She was my friend too..." Korsak says and steps forward, but Jane laughs and pushes herself backwards, propelling herself to a standing position. She opens her mouth to reply, then shuts it. Opens it again, but finally her shoulders droop and she sighs.
"She wasn't... she wasn't just my friend, Vince."
The warm hand that lands on her shoulder startles her. She jumps slightly as she lifts querying eyes to his once more. "You think I didn't know that?" he asks, and her mouth drops open slightly.
"You..."
He shakes his head, a comforting smile still lighting up his lined, haggard, and very much loved face. "What do you think? I taught you everything you know, rookie."
A small smile appears on her face. "You haven't called me that in years."
Korsak shrugged. "Maybe it's time for a trip down memory lane." Jane looks at him curiously but he doesn't elaborate further. "Go home, Jane. Mourn Maura."
Jane sighs. "I just... will it ever stop hurting?"
"No," Korsak replies, and Jane screws her eyes up tight. "It never does, not for the people we truly love. But Jane..." he stops, and finally Jane opens her eyes and looks up at him, giving him the attention he so obviously wanted, "that's what memories are for. To sustain you... until you see her again."
"Who knew you could be so sentimental, old man?" she sniffs, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "You're not religious, either."
Korsak shakes his head. "Who said you have to be religious to believe?"
R&IR&IR&I
The tears have dried up for now, and Jane wonders yet again how deep her well of tears runs. She suspects it is fathomless; based on her tears of the last year, she knows that she has not even come close to the bottom.
There's... there's been an accident...
Jane shudders as the ghost of the memory forces its way in, shakes her head and pushes herself off the door to her apartment. She had been resting there for too long, battling away the memories that Korsak so obviously thinks she needs to invite back in.
He didn't understand. He couldn't, no matter what he said, what he believed... he couldn't know how much she had battled to get to where she is today. How much she had fought, simply so that she could function, so that she could do her job, so that... so that she could live. She was dead, but Jane was alive, and it felt like the worst torment ever.
Going over to the fridge, Jane opened it and peered inside. Pulled out a bottle of Guinness and, with a well practiced move and a flick on the wrist, the cap was off.
She used to drink Blue Moon. With her.
She doesn't drink it anymore.
It's... oh Janie, it's Maura...
Jane frowns, grabs out another beer and heads over to the sofa. One isn't going to cut it tonight. In the back of her mind, she ponders over the harder alcohols she had hidden away.
Jane, do you have any idea what alcohol consumption like that does to your liver?
She blinks harshly and sticks a finger in her ear, rotating it swiftly as though she thinks that will rid her of the voice. She gulps down the rest of the beer in two huge swallows and twisting open the cap of the next one, gulping half of it down too and letting out a healthy belch.
She doesn't want to think tonight. Doesn't want to remember.
It's been exactly one year since she died, and all Jane wants is just to forget.
What is it Ma? What about Maura? Is she okay? MA?
"Fuck," she moans, dropping her head back on the sofa. A lick on the back of her hand startles her and she lifts her head up again, staring down at Jo Friday.
"Hi Jo... hi girl," she coos, patting the dog absently, picking her up off the ground. She was getting old now, arthritis plaguing her terribly, her eyesight almost gone, but she was still entirely faithful to Jane.
"I think I should get rid of Jo."
"Jane, no... you love that dog."
"It's too hard, Frankie. She's mourning her. It's... she reminds me of..."
"Of Maura?"
Jane shook her head. "Don't Frankie... just... don't."
"I couldn't do it," Jane mumbles, and Jo tilts her head on the side. "I couldn't do it. I can't." The tears are back but Jane doesn't fight them this time, just lets them slip down her cheeks.
R&IR&IR&I
The room is lit by brilliant shades of orange and red when Jane opens her eyes. She stands up slowly, depositing Jo onto a cushion before she did. The dog snuffles and groans but remains asleep, and Jane smiles down at her briefly before she crosses to a window.
"Did you know that the colours in a sunset are caused by an effect known as 'scattering'?"
"No I didn't know that, but why doesn't it surprise me that you do?"
"Scattering affects the color of light coming from the sky, but the details are determined by the wavelength of the light and the size of the particle. The short-wavelength blue and violet are scattered by molecules in the air much more than other colors of the spectrum. This is why blue and violet light reaches our eyes from all directions on a clear day. But because we can't see violet very well, the sky appears blue."
"I thought it was something to do with the ocean?"
Maura continued as though she hadn't heard. "Because the sun is low on the horizon, sunlight passes through more air at sunset and sunrise than during the day, when the sun is higher in the sky. More atmosphere means more molecules to scatter the violet and blue light away from your eyes. If the path is long enough, all of the blue and violet light scatters out of your line of sight. The other colors continue on their way to your eyes. This is why sunsets are often yellow, orange, and red."
"Do you even listen to yourself sometimes?"
"Of course, Jane, I always listen to myself. What are you inferring?"
Jane laughed. "Never mind, you big dork."
Jane shakes her head forcibly, lets the curtain drop again and walks back over to her coffee table. She picks up the now warm beer and gulps down the remainder of the liquid inside, screwing her face up at the unpleasant sensation.
How is it that she taught her so much, yet she never taught Jane how to live without her?
"What would you do if I died?"
"Maura!"
"What? It's a perfectly reasonable question."
"For me, maybe, I'm the cop!"
"And I'm the daughter of a mob boss."
Jane quirked an eyebrow. "Point taken."
"So, what would you do?"
"I... I don't..." Jane squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't know. What would you want me to do?"
"Go on living."
Jane slams the bottle down so hard that she is half surprised when it doesn't shatter. "How? How? How do I do it?"
"How?"
Maura shrugged but didn't drop her eyes for a second. "By letting my memory live on."
The tears have started again and Jane wipes at her cheeks furiously. She is able to block her out every other day, why is it so hard today?
She knows the answer to that without assistance...
One year today.
She looks around her apartment. It is barely recognisable from the place it was one year ago.
The sound of crashing was what called Angela in.
Jane supposed later that it must have been audible halfway down the street.
"Jane! What are you doing?" Angela gasped, flinching as her daughter threw a photo frame at the wall and the glass shattered.
"What does it look like?" Jane's voice was calm, and that seemed to scare Angela the most... the fact that Jane's voice was calm while her body was wild and uncontrolled. She edged forward as though approaching a wild animal, but Jane did not pause in her destructive rampage. "What are you doing here, Ma?" Jane asked smoothly, as one by one her ornaments crashed into the wall, leaving dents in the plaster and shattered porcelain on the floor.
"I... I wanted to check on you."
"You checked."
"Jane..." Angela's voice was soft, understanding, but it angered Jane even more.
"No, Ma! No, she left me! She left me. So now I'm leaving her."
"By destroying every memory you two have ever shared?"
"She left me."
"Janie, she didn't have a choice... Maura wo..."
"Don't say her name. Ma, just... don't say her name."
Everything had been replaced... almost everything. The sofa was the same.
"Jane... what are we doing?"
"I'm kissing you."
"After that?"
"After that, Maura, I plan on showing you just what an amazing person you are."
She had almost hyperventilated when the movers started carrying that out the door. It didn't make sense, it was the one thing that she should have wanted to get rid of the most, but somehow, she didn't. She wanted to keep it.
"Ah, never mind. Keep that one here."
"What should we do with the one on the truck?"
Frankie looked at Jane. She stared at the floor, still breathing shallowly. "Take it to my place."
Jane crossed to the sofa and sat down, running her hands along its surface. She had tried to destroy it too, that day she destroyed nearly everything else, but luckily it had not been too difficult to repair. She lay back, carefully avoiding the cushion that Jo was still blissfully snoring on, and closed her eyes.
"I want to kiss you Jane. I want to kiss you, and touch you, and love you. I love you, Jane, so much."
"I love you Maura."
It hadn't been too comfortable to sleep on, but they managed, wrapped up together as they had been for years. It was just that their connection was physical then too. Jane let her eyes close as she touched the sofa reverently.
"Janie... I... I don't know how... oh God, Janie..."
"Ma?"
"She's... she's..."
"Ma, WHAT?"
"She's... I'm so sorry, Jane. She's dead."
Jane ripped her hand away as though burnt, curled it up onto her chest.
"I want to see her."
"Jane... no. She's already been identified... what good will it do?"
"I need to see her, Ma. I need to."
Jane screwed her eyes shut.
The worst part was that there was no one to blame. Maura had technically been in the wrong: entered the intersection without properly looking. The girl she hit hadn't looked either, but since she entered a fraction of a second sooner, she did not get the majority of the weight of the blame.
The girl was in a wheelchair for life.
Jane still wanted to hate her.
She sat up, hunched over as though to protect herself.
"She looks..."
"I know. She just looks as if she was sleeping."
"She's not..."
"No, Detective Rizzoli. I'm sorry, but Dr. Isles died of massive internal injuries. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Maura... her name was Maura. She was my friend..."
"She was more than a friend..." Jane whispered. "She was my everything."
The familiar stone has settled in her stomach again. It's become like a companion, that stone. It's with her everywhere, and Jane wonders if she will ever be free of its debilitating weight.
"What's her name, Jane?"
"Vince, don't."
"I just want you to say her name."
"And I just want you to fuck off! Looks like neither of us are getting our wishes today."
"It's a name, Jane. It's not going to bite you."
"Fuck. Off."
"Maura. Maura, Maura, Maura."
Jane shuddered. "Don't... please... just please don't."
The colours in the sunset are almost gone now. Jane wonders how long she has been sitting here, wonders when the two beer bottles became four.
"You know what I love most about you, Jane Clementine Rizzoli?"
"The fact that I don't make fun of your middle name even though you make fun of mine?"
Maura rolled her eyes. "No. I love this."
Jane looked around in bewilderment. "What?"
"This. Just being with you."
"That's what you love most about me? Being with me?"
"Yes. That... and your smile," Maura pressed a kiss to Jane's quirked lips, "your neck," a kiss to the point where neck and shoulder met, "your mind," a kiss to the forehead, "and the way you are so unbelievably sweet." She curled up in Jane's lap and all was silent for a few minutes. Finally, "Well?"
"Well what?"
Maura sat up, frowning at Jane with a slight pout to her lips. "What do you love most about me?"
Jane thought hard. "You wanna know what I love most about you, Maura Dorthea Isles?"
"Yes." Jane flipped them quickly, seemingly effortlessly and Maura lay gasping up at her.
"I love... this."
"What?"
Jane smiled down at her. "Everything."
The tentative knock at the door is barely heard, so lost is Jane in her memories, but the second, firmer knock forces her back to the present day. She checks the peephole quickly and her brow furrows in consternation.
She pulls the door open.
"Hi Jane."
The chorus of voices is quiet, hushed, the owners well aware that other people lived in Jane's building, but it still hits her like an air horn anyway.
"What are you guys doing here?"
Frost, Frankie, Tommy, Susie, Angela, Cavanaugh, Korsak, Constance, Hope... they all pile in the door one after the other and settle themselves in her lounge room. Jane has no choice but to stand by and watch it happen.
"What are you guys doing here?" she finally asks again, once she's found her tongue.
The new occupants of her living room all shrug, looking around at each other uncomfortably. Jane can almost see them wondering if this, whatever 'this' is, was such a great idea after all. Finally Angela speaks up. "We're here to remember."
Jane starts to shake her head. "No. No."
"Jane..."
"No, Ma! This is my apartment, you can't just..."
"We cared about her too, Jane," Frankie says quietly, and Jane shut up, stares at him as though she has never seen him before. "We need to mourn too."
The stone in Jane's stomach has grown to massive proportions, and sent its sons and daughters to hold court in Jane's throat. She swallows heavily. "Here?"
"You wouldn't have come anywhere else."
"Sit down, Jane," Angela says, and points. It is then that she notices that everyone has noticeably avoided the sofa. Hope and Constance are sitting on Jane's coffee table (now pushed up against the wall), Korsak is sitting on a dining room chair as is Cavanaugh while Frost, Frankie and Susie are all sitting cross legged on the floor. Angela points to the sofa, but Jane sits on the floor in front of it instead, leaning forward so her mother could sit behind her.
There was a slight pause before Angela sat down, and then another pause before she began running her fingers through Jane's hair.
Silence filled the room. Jane let her eyes close as she leaned against her mother's knee.
"I'll go first." The voice is startling in the silence, and many a person jumped before looking at its owner, Constance. She is flushing slightly. "If that's alright, of course."
After a murmur of agreement, Constance sits up straighter. It is then that Jane notices the fancy embroidered handkerchief clasped firmly in her hand.
"Tissues are far more hygienic, Jane."
"What? I wash this..."
"Yes, and after how many uses? Do you ever stop to think about the fact that you are rubbing more germs along your nose each time you blow it? Your nasal passages are very sensitive to bacteria and germs, Jane. Did you know..."
"Oh God, Maura. I have a cold. I don't really want to hear your 'fun facts' today."
Maura crosses her arms across her chest. "Use tissues then."
Jane rolled her eyes. "Fine!" She threw the handkerchief in the bin. "But you can explain to Ma where her best hanky went."
Jane stalked off, but quickly realized Maura was not following her. She turned around. Maura had put on a glove, rifled through the bin and come up with the hanky, carefully placing it into a plastic bag. When she turned to Jane, her eyes widened at getting caught.
"I... I'll wash it for your mother. And I'll tell her about how unhygienic these are. I... I just didn't want you getting in trouble."
Jane smiled. "You're something else."
Maura hesitated, finally tripping along in her haste to reach Jane's side. She looks hesitant. "Is... is that a bad thing?"
"No." Jane wrapped her arm around her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the temple. "Most definitely not a bad thing."
"When Maura was 2, she had a teddy bear that she absolutely loved. His name was Ralph, but she called him 'Walf'." Jane smiles down at her feet, imagining a tiny Maura dragging around a teddy bear. It's hard to picture Maura as a child, so she is grateful when her mother taps her on the shoulder and hands her a picture. In it, a little blonde haired, hazel eyed beauty stood staring at the camera, cuddling the huge teddy bear to her chest.
"When she was 3, we went on a holiday to France. It was brilliant, and Maura seemed to enjoy it, but when we came back, we had to leave on a very early flight. I didn't bother to wake her up, just got Robert to scoop her up in his arms and carry her." Jane thinks she can see where this story is going but she remains silent. "Somehow... we left behind Walf. I could have sworn I packed him, but when we got home, he was nowhere to be seen and Maura... Maura was inconsolable. I did everything I could think of, called the hotel, the airline, even the cab company, but everyone claimed to have no knowledge of his existence. This went on for nearly a week..." Constance sighs, and Jane glances up to look at her. "Maura cried almost the whole time, and she wouldn't talk to me at all. Even at that age, she could hold a grudge." Jane laughs and everyone looks at her. She looks down at her hands, avoiding eye contact. "Finally, I flew out to France again, just to see if I could find it myself. I, uh... I went everywhere, everywhere we'd been, even demanded to see the same cab and hotel room, but it was like he had vanished into thin air. I went home, sat in my study and started crying. Maura walked in, and she was holding a teddy bear. It was different to Walf though; he had been black while this teddy bear was white. 'This is Alby, mummy,' she told me. 'He's my new friend, so please don't be sad anymore. I'm sorry I was cross.'" Constance's face screws up suddenly and she looks down at her lap, lifting the handkerchief and dabbing carefully at her eyes. "I thought I'd made an irreparable mistake, that she would be angry with me forever, but she wasn't. She was only three but she'd already figured out how to forgive and forget, and that... that was..." Constance gulps, seemingly unable to continue.
"My turn now," Hope finally says, and the group turns to look at her. "I... uh... I haven't known her as long as the rest of you. Though in a way, I suppose I've known her the longest. I certainly met her first, when she was..." Hope trailed off, one hand pressed to her stomach, and Jane knew exactly what she meant. When Maura was inside of Hope; when she had not yet been born. "I... I had so many dreams for her, my baby girl, and it felt like my world had been ripped apart when I found out she was dead. Before I knew she was still alive, I still thought about her every day, talked about her all the time..."
"She's probably very curious about you too."
"Why would she be curious? She doesn't even know I exist. Or maybe she does." Maura clicked the mouse a few times and brought up the newspaper headline proclaiming her as Paddy Doyle's child. "How could she not? She hasn't made any effort to contact me."
"Wha... okay. Maura... maybe she saw that and think Paddy was cheating on her and had a kid named Maura. Or maybe she only reads fancy French newspapers, or, maybe, she hasn't thought of Paddy Doyle in the past 36 years!"
"Or me."
"When I met her, it was like... like a dream. She was everything I had ever dreamed, sweet, kind, generous. Shortly after we met, we were talking and..." Hope shakes her head, "I'm not sure, I guess she could sense something. But she told me she forgave me."
"For what?" Frankie asks softly, making Jane jump.
"For feeling like I failed her. She told me that I hadn't... but she forgave me anyway. After that... I began to forgive myself a little bit."
"Forgive and forget," Constance murmurs and the group nods, mumbling an agreement.
"Uh, my turn maybe?" Tommy asks. Jane looked up at the sound of his voice. It sounds... different. Choked, and she realizes that he is beginning to cry. She looks around and sees shiny eyes and red noses among the whole group.
Jane's own cheeks are dry.
"Why do women cry more than men?"
"Ah, that's a good question, Jane!"
"It is?"
"Definitely! Many believe that the reason women cry more than men is because of social conditioning... women are encouraged to express their emotions, while men grow up under the belief that it is his role in life to be strong, dependable, independent, even aggressive. In addition to this, women have larger tear ducts than men. However, it is debated that this is caused by evolution... the man of the species has been encouraged to be entirely unemotional for many, many generations, therefore it is possible that his tears ducts have shrunken slightly due to lack of use."
"I don't cry very often..."
"... Oh, Jane. Is that what this is about?"
"What?"
"You don't have to cry for me to know what an emotional person you are."
"Gee, thanks."
"Don't be sarcastic. Don't you get it, though? Everything you do... everything you are... tells me what you are feeling. Every time you kiss me, when we make love... you don't need to cry for me to see the emotion."
"I think my favourite memory would have to be... our chess games."
"Do not sleep with my brother."
"What?! Jane! It hadn't even occurred to me. Although, he does have exquisite long bones."
"'Long bones'? Ewww."
"Femur, tibia. Look, it's his mind that I find myself most attracted to."
"He barely graduated high school."
"Bobby Fischer was a high school dropout and he's a world chess champion!"
"Okay. So, when Tommy becomes a world-class chess champion, you can sleep with him."
"Really?"
"…No."
"It was just... ya know, here I was, this ex-con just out of prison, and she was willing to spend time with me, make me feel smart. She made me feel like I could... like I could do something, be someone. Not just be a criminal for the rest of my life." He shrugged. "That's my favourite memory."
"My turn?" Susie asks, and Jane looks at her for the first time. She is sitting primly, legs crossed underneath her, and she looks absolutely petrified. Jane feels an unexpected surge of affection towards her, and nods her head for Susie to continue. "I... Dr Isles... Maura..." she takes a deep breath and continues. "She was... is... my idol. She... well, I've worked with a lot of people, worked under a lot of people, but she never made me feel inferior like they did. She was... she was my boss, but she treated me just like a colleague. So I..." suddenly her voice cracks, and Jane watches in abject fascination as Susie's head droops down quickly, and her shoulders slump. "I just really miss her."
"Gee, I don't know why," Frost pipes up. "I thought working with Pike would be a dream come true!"
Jane is surprised by the laugh that bubbles up out of her throat and almost chokes on it, but everyone else is giggling too so it's all okay.
"I guess that means it's my turn?" Frost asks the group, but he looks at Jane. Jane nods slowly, still taken aback by the look on his face. His cheeks are dry, like Jane's own, but his eyes shine brightly with barely repressed emotions. She can see sadness in there, layers upon layers of sadness, but she also sees hope.
And that confuses the hell out of her.
"Well, as some of you may be aware, I may have a slight gastrointestinal issue that becomes apparent around dead bodies."
"May be aware?" Korsak snorts and Frost shoots him the finger.
"Gastrointestinal issue?" Frankie laughs, and Frost shrugs.
"Hey, her words, not mine."
"I'm going to help Frost."
"Going to help Frost... with what?"
"His gastrointestinal issues when presented with dead bodies."
"His gastro... Maura, he pukes when he's around dead people."
"Precisely."
"Why can't you just say... never mind. What are you going to do to help him?
"Immersion therapy."
"She encouraged me to participate in some immersion therapy... convinced me that the more I forced myself to be around the bodies, the more I would get used to it."
"Did it work?" Constance asks curiously, her nose only slightly wrinkled in distaste at the topic of conversation.
"Surprisingly, yes. Granted, I will probably always feel nauseous when presented with death, but I no longer get sick at every crime scene."
"I've heard how much you've improved Frost. I have to say, I wondered what the reason behind it was. Now I know." Cavanaugh smiles at Frost who shrugs back.
"She was one of the only people who never made fun of me for it. I guess that's why I let her help me."
There was a slightly uncomfortable silence for a minute before Cavanaugh spoke up. "Well, I don't suppose I ever told any of you about the first time I met Dr Isles."
A general murmur from the group, "No."
"When I first got made Lieutenant, I went around to everyone in the precinct and introduced myself. I'm sure you remember...?" he asks, looking at Frost, Frankie, Jane, Susie and Korsak, all of whom nod mutely. "Well, I'd met all of the cops so I headed downstairs to meet the medical examiner's team. I'd heard that the Chief Medical Examiner was called 'Queen of the Dead', so I was very intrigued to meet her."
"C'mon, it's your lucky day. Can't say this on camera, but we call Doctor Isles 'Queen of the Dead'."
"What's that, Crowe?"
"Jeez, take a Midol."
"I went down to the morgue and the first thing I see is Dr Isles analysing stomach contents, so I walk in to introduce myself, and she immediately asks if I can identify the half digested foods in the tray." As the group laughed, Cavanaugh shook his head. "Tell you what, I have a pretty strong stomach, but I nearly lost my lunch that day."
"The content of a person's stomach is like their grocery bag, it's so revealing. It's my favourite part."
Angela sniffled loudly. "The way she opened up her home to me. That's... that's my favourite..." she stopped and blew her nose loudly.
Korsak reached over and touched Angela's shoulder in a demonstration of sympathy. Jane watched as Angela smiled at him with still watering eyes, then dropped her own gaze to the floor once more. "I loved how she would never venture a guess when it came to a murder, even when it came to labelling an obvious blood stain as being 'blood'."
"We're running for a charity! Professionals for Underprivileged Kids of Excellence. We're a team!"
"Team P.U.K.E.?!"
"Yes, that is an unfortunate acronym."
"At least you're not a hot dog. Or a mustard." Frankie piped up, gesturing towards the two unfortunately clad costumed men in the corner.
"Stay out of this. Listen, I said I would do this because we said that we wanted to do something together, but I am not running as Lady P.U.K.E. Gaga! No!"
Maura's face fell and she started to turn away. "Oh. I'm sorry. I should have realized. I didn't - I'm sorry."
"Holy, crap! You're going to cry on me!" Jane said, darting around to stand in front of Maura again.
"No, I'm trying not to, it's just that my amygdala and my lacrimal gland have a connection that I can't really control."
"Honey, there is no way in hell I am taking this off. I'm already running twenty-six miles with a camel toe."
"Can you at least take off that baggy tee? Oh, come on! I'll let you walk up Heartbreak Hill!"
"Oh, I'm walking Heartbreak. You're going to have to do better than that."
"Okay. Name it."
"The next reddish brown stain you call blood before the labs come in."
"You want me to lie?!" Maura asked, sounding horrified.
"No, I want you to state the obvious."
Maura battled internally, finally stating, "Hypothetically, based on the crime scene, I will determine if it's possible to hypothesize that a stain is blood."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"It got frustrating at times, but she quickly proved herself to be the best damn medical examiner we'd ever had because of her eccentricities, so we quickly learnt how to deal with it."
When it became obvious that Korsak wasn't going to say any more, Frankie sighed heavily. "I guess it's my turn. My favourite memory of Maura is..." he trails off, and Jane feels his eyes on her. She doesn't look up to prove the feeling accurate, "... is just how happy she made my sister."
It is as though the stone in Jane's chest was actually a bomb and it now exploded. Tears are building up quickly behind her eyes without her permission and the lumps in her throat now feel as though they were going to choke her. She stands up abruptly, throwing her mother's arm off harshly, moving over to the kitchen to get away.
But it's too much, there are too many people, there's not enough air, and she is gasping when she tells them all to get out and, without looking behind her, she bolts to her bedroom and shuts the door.
It's too much.
One year ago today.
"Hey."
"Hey." Jane couldn't help the smile that lit up her face when she saw Maura. They had only been a couple for a month now, but it felt like forever. It sounded cliché, but, in every other romantic partnership Jane had ever been in, there was a learning curve. A period of time in which she needed to learn about her partner, and he needed to learn about her. There was no learning curve with Maura; it felt as though they had been together their whole lives.
"I'm going to go home; do you want to come now? Or will you stay a little while longer?"
"Umm..." Jane looked around her desk, at the papers still filling it completely. "I better stay a while longer."
"Okay." Maura walked forward but stopped suddenly before she reached Jane's desk. "Oh, we only took one car this morning. Do you want me to take a cab home?"
"Nah, you can drive. I'll cab it."
Maura pressed a short, sweet kiss to Jane's mouth. "I'll see you when you get home."
"Alright honey, I'll see you then."
Jane never saw her alive again.
It takes a few seconds for Jane to realize the keening sound is coming from her, that her mouth is open, trying to vocally project her misery, but her throat is sabotaging the efforts. There is a pounding at the door behind her, which Jane resolutely ignores as she tries to remember how to breathe again.
"How Maura? How would I let your memory live on?"
Maura shrugged. "By not letting yourself forget me."
Jane pulled away from the embrace. "I don't like this conversation."
"Jane, you should know better than anyone, myself, perhaps, excluded, that death is a natural part of life."
Jane turned away. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Jane..."
"Maura, if you died..." she stopped, shook her head, "if you died, I wouldn't have a life worth living anymore."
Maura touched the shoulder in front of her but it was wrenched it out of her grip. Jane's arms were wrapped around her stomach, providing the physical comfort she did not know how to ask for, as she listened to Maura sigh and stand up, moving around behind her. Finally, she heard Maura speak again. "Jane, I would hope that, in the event of my early death, you would have enough respect for me to keep on living."
"It has nothing to do with respect."
"It has everything to do with respect." Maura lost her patience and sat in front of Jane, a finger under her chin forcing her head up, forcing eye contact. "How do you think I would feel, watching you, knowing that you were killing yourself, or living only half a life, because I was dead?"
"'Watching me'? You're not religious, Maur. You don't believe in Heaven... do you?"
"You don't have to be religious to believe."
R&IR&IR&I
The alarm goes off with its usual cheery beeping and Jane's head springs up instantly. "Oww," she moans, rubbing her neck as it cricks at her warningly. She is sitting in front of her door, and vaguely she wonders why she didn't go the extra 7 steps to get to her bed, but suddenly she remembers last night.
The ambush.
Or the intervention, Maura's voice whispers in her ear and Jane shakes her head abruptly, wincing when the clanging cymbals in her head finally make themselves known. As she stands up cautiously, her body aches and throbs. She feels like she's got the worst hangover ever, but she knows that the four beers last night was not the cause.
Crying herself to sleep, sitting leaned up against her door... that was the cause.
She goes to the bathroom and takes care of business, finally standing in front of the mirror, toothbrush in hand. She runs her tongue over furry teeth, as the water runs away down the drain in front of her.
"Kiss me."
"Ew, Jane, no!"
"'Ew'? That's not what you said last night..."
"Yes, well last night you had a clean mouth."
"What's wrong with my mouth?"
"You haven't brushed your teeth yet!"
"Ah..." Jane's face lit up mischievously. "You mean, my breath smells?" With a well practiced move born from years of police training, not to mention years of being a big sister, she quickly had Maura pegged underneath her. As Maura squirms, Jane blew onto her face slowly, watching in delight as Maura's face screwed up in disgust.
"Oh my God, Jane!"
"Now, see, that's what you said last night."
Maura smirked. Before Jane had a chance to wonder what was going on, Maura had somehow flipped their bodies and gotten out of bed.
"Wha... how'd you do that?"
"That's for me to know and you to never find out. Now, do you really want a kiss?"
"Yes," Jane pouted slightly.
"Brush your teeth."
Jane pretended to ponder this for a moment, but quickly leapt out of bed and bolted to the bathroom. Once finished, she came out to see Maura lying on the bed, fully nude.
"Wha... I thought I was getting a kiss?"
"I never said where the kiss was apt to be located. Are you complaining?"
Jane grinned, slowly stalking towards the bed as she pulled off her singlet. "Definitely not complaining."
As though in a dream, Jane reaches out to turn off the water and brings the brush to her mouth with the other hand. Slow, methodical movements, teeth brushing should take at least two minutes, don't forget the backs and sides of your teeth, rinse and spit several times if necessary. Don't rush the process, teeth are supposed to last you your entire adult life.
"That's what dentures are for, Maura."
Maura rolled her eyes. "No, Jane."
"What? You can't picture us in 40-50 years time, pulling out our dentures to kiss each other goodnight?"
"Kissing you goodnight, yes. Dentures, no."
The knock on the bathroom door is startling and Jane jumps, almost choking on her toothbrush.
"Did you drown in there or something?"
Jane frowns and speaks through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Frankie? What are you doing here?" Still¸she silently adds. She had told them all to get out last night; trust her little brother to read that as 'everyone but me get out'.
"Making sure my sister is still alive to face another day," Frankie replies and Jane rolls her eyes, spitting into the sink, finally opening the door.
"I'm alive. See? You can go home now."
"Nup. Been home. Came back." Frankie pushes past her and stands at the toilet, unzipping himself.
"Oh Frankie, gross!"
"Hey, man's gotta whizz, and you only got one bathroom. What 'm I 'sposed to do?"
"Uh, wait till I leave the bathroom maybe? Shut the door? Or, even better, pee in your own damn apartment!"
"Nah, what's the fun in that?" Frankie shakes and flushes, tucking himself back in and heading over to the sink, washing his hands. "Besides, there's no point going back to my place today."
"Why?" Jane asks suspiciously.
"Because we're spending the day together!" He wraps an arm around Jane's shoulder and gives her a big squeeze.
"No. Nuh-uh. No way. You are going back to your place, and I am staying right here."
"Well, that aint happening."
"And why not?" Jane asks, hands on her hips and Frankie pulls back to look at her, one arm still around her shoulders.
"C'mon Jane, you don't think I remember what happened this time last year?"
"Jane! What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Crash, crash. Bang, bang. It was so quick and easy to destroy it all, a lifetime worth of memories gone in mere hours.
"I'm not going to do that again."
"I know you're not. That's why I'm here."
"I don't need you here, Frankie!" She pulls herself out of Frankie's grip and goes back into her bedroom, throwing herself down on the bed. "I just... I just need to be alone."
"Yeah, well," Frankie sighs, sitting down on the bed too, "being alone is how you've spent the last year Jane, and look at you now."
"I'm fine."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Wha... Jane? Why are you back here so early? Cavanaugh gave you a month at least..."
"I'm fine."
Frost and Korsak exchanged a glance. "Jane, it's okay to say you need some time..." Korsak started, but she brushed him off.
"I said I'm fine. Where we at? Bring me up to speed."
Frost and Korsak opened their mouths in unison, prepared to argue again but Jane grabbed a folder and opened it, effectively shutting off their retorts.
"Go away, Frankie."
"No. You're my sister, Jane, and I love you, and no matter how much of a pain in the ass you are, I'm going to help you get through this."
"Get through this?" Jane asks, and just like that, the stone that might be a bomb is back in her stomach, its sons and daughters back in her throat. "She's gone, Frankie. She's gone, and I'm alone. I can accept that, but there is no 'getting through this'."
"You haven't said her name in a year."
Jane's breath stutters as she stares at her brother. "So?"
"So, I think that to get through this properly, you should at least be able to say her name."
"Maura... oh God, Maura..."
"I love it when you say my name."
"Mauraaaa...!"
"Fuck off, Frankie."
"No."
Jane sits up, jabs an accusing finger into his chest. "You are trespassing. Fellow police officer or not, I could arrest you for refusing to leave my property."
"You could. But you won't." His voice is calm and confident, and Jane feels a sense of frustration boiling up in her chest.
"Fuck. Off. Frankie!"
"No."
Jane stood up abruptly, leaving the suffocating bedroom and heading out into the living room, where she can still see the reminders of the ambush
intervention
from last night. Huffing to herself, she moves the coffee table back to its original position, throws back onto its surface all the random bits and pieces that had been placed off to the side the previous night. She starts throwing cushions back on the couch, realizing only once one was airborne that it was headed straight for Jo Friday, still curled up on the cushion from last night. It hits her, but Jo doesn't move.
"So, since you apparently believe in heaven and hell and all that..."
"Hmm, not so sure about hell."
"... I'm not going to go there. Since you believe in heaven then, do you believe that our pets go there too?"
"What?"
"Like... Bass. And Jo. Do you think we'll see them in heaven?"
"I think being in heaven is much like being on earth. Everything that makes us happy is there, and everything that makes us sad is not."
"So... that's a yes then?"
"Yes, Jane. I believe that Jo and Bass will be with us in our heaven."
"Jo? Jo?" Jane is frozen, staring at the dog, willing her chest to move. "Oh God... JO!"
Frankie runs out of her bedroom, skidding on his socked feet. "Jane? What is it?"
Jane opens her mouth, finds she is unable to say anything. Tries to move her feet, finds she cannot. Slowly raises a hand and points instead.
Frankie slowly, reverently, moves around to the front of the sofa, carefully moves the cushion away where it was still partially resting on Jo's head, lays a gentle hand on her stomach. Jane doesn't think about the care he is taking. She tries not to.
"The dead deserve our respect, Jane. They have begun a journey we know nothing about yet."
Frankie bows his head and Jane starts shaking hers. "No," she mumbles. "No, no, no, no, no!" It starts as a whispers, ends as a whisper, but it feels as though she is shouting, her throat straining, her vocal chords enflamed. She doesn't know what to do.
She just doesn't know.
R&IR&IR&I
It was cancer, apparently. A quiet, cancerous tumour that invaded Jo's body, killing her slowly. The arthritis masked the symptoms, the vet said, but it was unlikely she felt any pain. It would have just been like falling asleep.
Jane wonders when it happened.
Was it after Jane left, after the group left? Did Jo die alone?
Or did she peacefully slip away while her friends and family reminisced about her other human?
Jane hoped it was the latter.
But she worried it was the former.
She looked down at the small urn in her lap. Ashes. Ashes were all that was left of Jo Friday, of the beautiful little dog who had had her first bath with her new (and final) owner in the sink at a morgue.
Jo Friday, the little dog who once barked at her when she slept over, but never barked at her again.
Jo Friday, the little dog who'd, once she figured out how to ride on Bass's back, rarely walked anywhere in her other home.
Jo Friday, the little dog who figured out how to snuggle up to a turtle
tortoise
and make it look comfortable.
"I don't think I can do this, Frankie."
"Jane, you should know better than anyone, myself, perhaps, excluded, that death is a natural part of life."
"I'm here with you."
"I don't know if that's enough."
"You are one of the strongest women I know, Jane. You can do anything you put your mind to."
"Including marrying you?"
"... what?"
"Will you marry me, Maura?"
"I... yes! Yes!"
"How do I do this?" she asks quietly, and Frankie reaches over to take her hand. The hot tears that slip down her cheeks are not expected, but not surprising in the least.
"I don't know, Jane. But I'm here with you."
When he pulls the car to a stop, Jane climbs out without really seeing anything. She just grips the urn in both hands tightly, eyes downcast. It is only when Frankie takes her arm and steers her that she recognises where she is.
"What are you doing?"
"Organising our first date, what do you think?"
"We're having a picnic?"
Jane stopped her work, looked down, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. "Is that okay?"
A soft, sweet kiss on her cheek surprised her, drawing her eyes up. "It's more than okay."
"No, Frankie. No. I can't... not here..."
"It's time, Jane. Time to let her go."
Jane shook her head, held the small container in both hands. "I can't, Ma. Please... please don't make me."
Angela sighed, wrapped her arms around her waist. "Let's go home, Janie. We'll let her go another day."
"It's okay, Jane."
"No, Frankie, you don't understand... I can't, please..."
"You can."
"No!" She digs her heels in, stops in place. "I... I can't."
"Letting go of her ashes won't make you forget her, Jane."
"Just... don't go there, Frost."
"It won't."
Jane sighed. "I know. But... what if it does?"
"I CAN'T FORGET HER, FRANKIE!" Jane screams when he keeps pulling her arm, and suddenly she's not sure who she's talking about anymore. "I can't, please... I don't want to remember her, but it hurts too much to forget. I need to remember her, Frankie, I need to, please, please don't make me do this, please. I can't forget her, I can't..." she's babbling and she doesn't know how to stop; it feels like the millions of words that she has been suppressed, held in for the past year have suddenly broken free, but when she sees that he is holding another box in his hands, a familiar box, the words stop. The cork has been replaced in her bottle of words, and she feels she is choking on it.
"No." She whispers it, but he holds it still.
"No." She says it louder, but the container doesn't disappear.
"No!" she shouts, and the wind tears the words out of her mouth, but the container is still there.
"No," she says it again, back to a whisper, "Don't make me give her up Frankie. Don't make me forget her."
"How did I live without you?"
"When did you become a sap, Jane?"
"I think it was when I fell in love with you."
"You will never forget her, Jane. Never."
The tears are shining brightly in his eyes now, but her eyes are dry once more. It is one of the peculiar things about life, she muses. The times you feel you should be crying are the times when tears are hardest to come by.
"I love you, Jane."
"I love you too, Maura."
"Don't you get it, Jane? She is inside of you. You can destroy every piece of furniture you own, rip up every photograph, but she is inside of you."
"What is that?"
"It's a photo album, Jane."
"I can see that, Maura, but why does it have photos of us inside it?"
"It's a memento."
Jane's nose crinkled up as she looked down at the photos. "Does there have to be so many of... me... in there?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because we're together in every photo, even if I'm not visible, and you look so happy having me there."
"You're always visible, Maur."
"She loves you, and you love her, and no matter what, no matter how many years go by, you will always remember her. You will always love her."
"How do you imagine our future, Jane?"
"Our future? I dunno..."
"C'mon, you must have some idea."
"We're together for the rest of our lives, does that count?"
"Yes, it counts."
"These ashes... they are not her. Not anymore. The things that made her, her... that will never go away. Because it is inside of you, Jane. She is inside of you."
"Wait, so what would you do if I was the one who died young?"
"Remember you forever."
"You will never forget her. You will never forget..."
"Maura," Jane whispers.
"So, what does the name 'Maura' mean, anyway?"
"Great. And Jane is the feminine version of the name 'John'..."
"Wonderful..."
"Don't be sarcastic. And that means 'gracious'."
"Hmm, well 'great' seems to describe you pretty well."
"And gracious describes you. Most of the time." Jane dug a finger into Maura's side and she squealed, squirming away.
"Maura. Maura."
"Yes, Maura." Frankie is watching her cautiously, and she can't blame him... her knees have buckled so she sits on the ground, staring out over the viewpoint, over the area where she and Maura had their first date, their first dance, their first kiss.
"I miss her, Frankie."
"I know, Jane." She puts an arm up and he pulls her to her feet. She walks to the barricade, with him following behind. She opens the urn and watches Jo's ashes spread in the wind.
"Go join her, Jo. Give her a kiss from me," she whispers, then puts an arm behind her blindly, waiting for Frankie to place the other container in her hand. He does so, after a hesitant pause.
"How long will you love me?"
"Until the end of time."
The ashes spread in the wind, and Jane sighs.
"I love you, Maura."
"How long will you love me?"
"Even longer."
"Let's go home, Frankie. I have a photo album I need to find."
"You may not be visible in the photos, Maura, but I can see you in every one."
"You can? How?"
"By looking at my smile."
END.
Please let me know what you think. :-) Don't be ashamed to get cross with me cause I made you cry (as long as the reason you're crying is not cause my writing is so awful lol) because that means I did my job well! :-P