So, this fandom has actually inspired me to write again. Something I haven't really done in about two years at least. Since my last story was largely in Maura's POV I decided to write from Jane's POV this time. Everyone on here writes with their own voice in regards to Maura and Jane. Some do excellent jobs, some not so much. So while I'm trying to find Jane and Maura's voices please bear with me. But the best thing you can do for me is to rip my stories apart. When it comes to reviews I'm a masochist. I learn best from negative reviews, so please don't think that you'll hurt my feelings. If you think this story sucks please tell me so and how I can improve it. That being said good reviews aren't unwelcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles. Those rights belong to TNT, Tess Gerrtisen, and Janet Tamaro and probably more people.
Today sucked balls. Big, hairy donkey balls. Jane thought, a grimace on her face at the visual image, as she popped another fry in her mouth. Jane watched as the good doctor across from her prattled on about something. She'd been very talkative tonight. As long, tapering fingers "sneaked" away with another of Jane's fries, Jane tried to focus on what Maura was saying.
"You know Jane; the history of the French fry is rather ambiguous…"
That poor girl. What a dick. Why'd he kill that poor girl? What had she done? Jane hated cases where children were involved. They never ended well for anyone. Under the table Jane unconsciously placed a hand across her stomach. She didn't want a kid and no matter how much her mother pushed Jane doubted she'd ever want one. She liked kids, she did, but they scared the hell out of her. But nobody deserves that. He had such a precious gift and he destroyed it. What kind of sick bastard did that? They'd found the girl face down in the Boston Common Frog Pond. Her arm had been broken and bruises covered her small frame. She'd been seven. The break had been caused by torsional strain. The bastard had grabbed her by the arm and spun her around before forcing her little face down into the water. What a sick fuck. That kid was beaten for years. I guess at least now it's over. Jane felt sick for even thinking that. Not that way. God I wish it'd not ended that way.
Jane picked up a fry and absently drew designs in her ketchup. Maura had moved on to something else now. She doesn't normally ramble like this. Well, she does but not so…uselessly. I mean even when she goes on a Googlespeak tangent it's usually with some purpose. When the hell did I learn the word tangent? Another long, tapering finger stole another fry and brought it up to perfectly bowed lips. Jane stared at her friend who had somehow moved on to Peru. Maura took this case hard. Hell, this case hit me hard. Jane thought back to all the times Maura had had a kid on her table. It kills her. I hate to see how upset she gets. I know she thinks she'd be a terrible parent. But she'd be so good. Jane smirked a little; she's such a mama bear. Even I'd been a little scared when Maura had found out that the girl's own scumbag father had killed her. She'd been furious. A little heartbroken too, I think. I still can't believe he'd killed her because he was losing custody. "If I can't have her then that bitch won't get her either!" Jane had nearly killed the man then and there.
"Do you know vodka was once valued by Spanish sherry makers? They used it to…"
God, such a waste. If I had kids I wouldn't give them up for nothin'. But to kill them just because I couldn't keep them? They'd always know they were loved. I'd take them to Fenway and they'd learn everything about the Red Sox. I'd even teach them to be fans…even when the Sox just barely beat the Twins. And Maura would teach them about turtles…tortoises…and stupid uncomfortable chairs. Images of Maura leading a curly, dark headed child around a museum popped into Jane's head. More images followed: Jane teaching a little boy how to bat while Maura, in that stupid wetsuit thing, pitched, Jane and Maura watching the Animal channel while a sleeping child nestled between them, Maura patching a skinned knee and placing a gentle kiss over the "boo boo", Maura swelled with child as she works on the newest case, Jane and Maura tucking in a slumbering child before walking out together hand in hand. Jane began choking uncontrollably on a fry.
"Jane, are you okay?" Jane held up a hand and reached for her drink, trying to wash down the bit of food.
"Yea…yea I'm okay." Jane took another large sip of her drink and placed it near her now empty plate. Clearing her throat Jane looked back at the worried doctor. "Let's just go home."
"Are you sure you're alright. Even small inhalations of food particles can cause serious problems."
"I'm fine. It was just an ambiguous Peruvian tuber that went down the wrong pipe."
"You were listening to me?"
Jane grabbed Maura's coat, helped her into it, and began to leave the diner. "Of course. French fries aren't necessarily French, it's thought that all potatoes originate from Peru, and Spanish sherry makers used vodka to enhance their wines."
"You just seemed so far away when I was talking. I didn't think you were paying attention. I'm sorry I ramble so much…"
Jane slipped her hand into Maura's as they walked to her car. "Maur, it's okay. I like listening to you. I'll always listen to you."