Disclaimer : Rizzoli & Isles is Tess Gerittsen's baby, adopted by Janet Tamaro and is currently in a serious relationship with Turner Network Television. The English language is pretty much public domain though. I hope.
1. Blow Me (One Last Kiss)
Some people think that it's holding on that makes one strong; sometimes it's letting go.
– Unknown
Angela tip-toes downstairs wielding a toy baseball bat at the sound of the front door opening and closing shut.
"Oh, Maura." She's surprised to see her, even though this is her home. "You're early. Is everything okay?" she asks, concerned.
Maura can't bring herself to do more than smile at Angela's automatic jump to ridiculous conclusions whenever Maura does anything out of the ordinary. Although she appreciates the woman's caring nature, she's both too physically and emotionally drained from the events of the day. Shedding her winter coat she opts for an obvious change in subject. "Where are the kids?"
"I just put Abby to sleep," Angela smiles fondly, placing the plaything against the wall. "The other three are out back making snowmen." The Boston-Italian mother of three never thought that she'd be blessed with grandchildren before she kicked the bucket, but not only does she have four beautiful grandkids, and a wonderful daughter-in-law to boot, all of them are thanks to her only daughter who never showed any interest whatsoever in marriage or having kids, or even women as far as Angela is concerned. Speaking of whom, "Where's Janie?" she asks.
Maura sighs having hoped to avoid that particular topic. Undoing her scarf she says, "She told me to tell you she'll be staying at Frankie's."
At the robotic tone of Maura's statement, Ma Rizzoli is provoked to start snooping. "Are they watching another game?" she asks as she follows the younger woman into the kitchen.
"Possibly," is Maura's short reply. She had hoped to make it to her room unnoticed to avoid the Italian Inquisition, but Angela's keen sense of hearing is unmatched by anyone's stealth.
"Well, I know they both prefer the TV over here… because it's bigger, so…" she leaves the sentence open-ended to encourage any forthcoming comments, but after a few moments of Maura distractedly shuffling about around the kitchen, she decides to get to the nitty-gritty. "Did you two have another fight?"
"No," answers Maura without a pause in her movements.
"Then what's wrong?"
"For once, we actually agreed on something."
"Wanna talk about it, sweetie?" offers the mother-in-law finding it hard to read her daughter with her back facing her.
With a sniffle, Maura shrugs her shoulders. "There isn't much to say, Angela."
In her haste, she accidentally knocks a mug over and it comes crashing down on the tiled kitchen floor with an earth-shattering sound, as if to symbolize the opening of the floodgates of emotion Maura has kept under lock and key for so, so long.
She starts bawling and drops to her knees with a dish cloth attempting to gather the broken pieces only to find that it's the Happy Father's Day mug that the kids had gotten Jane as a joke a few years ago. Jane loves this mug. And now Maura has ruined it.
Everything she touches seems to break. The mug feels like a metaphor for her life at the moment. She cries harder.
Angela's hand stops Maura's actions. She embraces her daughter.
"Shh… It'll be okay. Come, I'll clean it up. You just relax for now."
Angela leads Maura to the couch and goes back to sweep the kitchen floor before anyone steps on something and loses a toe. She makes some hot cocoa for the both of them.
Earlier…
The couch is comfortable and spacious, but at the moment it feels too small; confining, almost oppressive.
Jane has her hair fisted in her hands, back hunched over as her elbows rest on her parted knees. She is silently fuming at the edge of her seat, staring at her gun and badge which lay next to their cellphones and the two cups of untouched, lukewarm beverages on the otherwise empty coffee table.
Prompted by the exhale of an exaggerated sigh from Jane, Maura stops bouncing her high-heeled foot, re-crosses her legs and sits up straighter, but she continues toying with her ring. She doesn't realize she's doing it. She's too anxious.
Jane lets her tangled hair slip through her fingers so she can cross her arms, and then leans until her back hits the couch with a satisfying puff.
Maura picks off a bit of imperceptible lint from her skirt. She politely smiles at the woman jotting furiously on her notepad, the scribbling pen their only reprieve from the deafening silence.
Prrr! The timer goes off, reanimating the room's occupants. But before Jane can get up to leave, the Diane Keaton look-alike shrink speaks.
"Well," she starts rather merrily, "I think we've made some progress. Sitting on the same couch, for one." The doctor gestures between the two women and emits a nervous laugh before glancing at her doodles- uh, 'notes'. "I think we're getting closer to the root of the problem here, but the sooner we get to it, the sooner we can uproot it and, in it's place, plant a happier, healthier marriage plant that can withstand the test of time. Like a cactus! Wait, no that won't work. I'll have to get back to you on that one."
Jane rolls her eyes as the therapist flaps and flails her hands in rhythm with her speech, as if the one can't be heard, perceived or understood without the other. Even though her own heritage bestowed that habit upon her too, Jane finds it annoying.
"Maybe, to accelerate the process, during our next session we should practise using our words? Any words at all, really. Same time next week?" she asks rhetorically having already penciled them in for their next ten appointments. Even after 2 months of regular therapy sessions, this couple is clearly nowhere near enjoying the fruits of a happy and healthy marriage plant.
"That won't be necessary," Maura answers for them both, securing her handbag around her shoulder. Jane ignores them as she secures her own accessories, feeling more comfortable with the weight of her gun on her hip.
"Oh, I understand. Things can get fairly busy for you around the holidays, I assume. The next week then?"
The doctor always makes assumptions. Maura disapproves of that.
"We won't be requiring your services any longer, Dr. Zoolander. But thank you for your time." Maura smiles politely and reaches for her phone at the same time as Jane.
Their fingers brush, sending a cold chill down their spines. Jane jerks away, phone in hand, and clears her throat.
"What she means is that," Jane says, throwing her blazer on, "we're getting a divorce."
"A di- divorce?" Dr. Zoolander almost chokes on the word.
Never in her 15 years as the top marriage counselor in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts has she not been successful in helping her clients reconnect and continue their lives happily ever after. Detective and Doctor Rizzoli have certainly ruined that, and the worst part is that she doesn't even know what their actual problem is.
"Yep. See you around, Doc. Thanks for the…" Jane thinks back to any way at all these sessions have helped her or her marriage. She draws a blank. "…coffee."
With a final courteous nod from Maura, the pair shut the door behind them.
After about a minute of dumbfounded silence, Dr. Zoolander instructs her receptionist to cancel all her appointments for the rest of the day. She needs time to regroup and mourn the loss of her 100% success rate. As she pulls out the hidden flask from her desk's bottom drawer and takes a sip, wincing, she's both disappointed and relieved to have this be her last session with them.
Thinking back, her first impression of the Rizzolis was that they were complete opposites.
Jane, with her brooding presence and partiality for caustic cynicism, seemed to always be on the edge of either losing her temper or bursting out in bitter laughter. Her moods swung everywhere. Then Maura, with her faultless grooming and attire, although well-mannered, often came across as cold and detached; almost clinical in her approach to fixing their marriage. They were hardly ever forthcoming with any specific details about anything she asked them, hiding behind jokes and sarcasm or facts and statistics, but it got worse as the weeks wore on and less talking happened. It felt like drawing blood from a stone with a punctured straw.
But then there were times when the sexual energy between them was as painfully palpable as their pig-headedness. There was just something about the way they looked at each other that belied a bond virtually unbreakable, infinitely unforgettable, but unfortunately, one that is now unwanted.
Dr. Zoo quietly muses about what they must have been like together before whatever happened happened, taking another sip of intoxicating eggnog.
"I'll have my lawyer contact yours," Maura declares once they've made it to the parking lot in silence.
Jane is already opening the door to her Crown Vic when she halts to look up at her soon-to-be-ex-wife. She quickly looks away but forces a fake smile. "Then I'll have my lawyer check his tweets more often." Jane loves cracking jokes about Maura's lawyer's ridiculously young age, but these days it comes off less playful and more biting.
Maura shoots her a glare over the top of Jane's car, but she doesn't say anything. She's cemented in her spot, wanting to say something, anything, but nothing feels important enough to mention. She's about to turn and open her own car's door when Jane speaks.
"I, uh," Jane struggles to find a way to broach the subject, knowing very well Maura will put two and two together. Though she truly wishes it hadn't come down to this. Maura's heart pounds against her chest in anticipation. "I'm gonna go stay with Frankie for a while, in case anyone asks."
Maura's heart drops, but she doesn't let it show. "Oh. Of course," she says, "I'll inform your mother."
They were saying things without the words, conversing in code. Maura knows that the only reason Jane would choose her brother's lumpy old couch over their guest bedroom is if Jane is planning on drinking. Heavily. Jane hates for her family to see her in that state, and besides Maura, Frankie's the only one who can handle her when she's in it, so 'informing Angela' means that Maura has to try and keep Jane's Ma away from her for a little while.
"Y'know, if it ever comes down to it, you can have her in the settlement." Jane smiles humorlessly. These days, even cracking a joke felt like pulling shark teeth with chopsticks.
Maura's heart breaks a little more. She misses laughing with this woman. It's been so long. She can feel her amygdala and lachrymal glands beginning to conspire mercilessly against her.
"Will you be home for Christmas?" she asks, almost hopefully.
The kids. They both know that sooner or later they will have to tell them about the separation, but it's going to be the hardest part.
"I promised the kids I'd take 'em ice-skating, so uh..." Jane drums her fingers on the top of her cruiser in thought, "I guess I'll just pick 'em up whenever they're ready?" she shrugs.
Maura nods. "Be safe, Jane," she says in a thankfully unwavering voice, turning and opening her door.
Jane snorts mirthlessly. Is this really what they've become? Another notch on the divorce post? Another 51% statistic? She would die for this woman, kill for her. She has. When did love stop being enough? Or was it too much, she didn't know anymore. This whole situation is just fucked beyond up. "Yeah, you too, Maur. See you in court." She quickly slams the door and speeds off.
A minute passes as Maura fixes her eye make-up in the rear-view mirror. She takes a deep breath to steel herself before cautiously braving the icy, snowy Boston streets and driving off in the opposite direction.
"Janie?"
"Are you gonna let me in or what?" Not waiting for a reply, the decorated Homicide Detective invites herself in by walking past her brother into his apartment.
"Sorry, I just- wasn't expecting you. I kinda..."
Jane stops midway to the kitchen when she notices a heavily breathing young woman fussing over her clothes on Frankie's couch. Shit.
"Oh, hey," she greets awkwardly with a lopsided smile.
"Hi," waves the blonde sheepishly at Jane, unsure what to address her as.
"Oh jeez, Frankie. I'll come back another time. I didn't know you had company."
"No, stay. We were just watching the game."
Frankie quickly clicks to the relevant channel, bless his heart. Jane smiles at his attempt at subtlety.
"Nah, it's okay. I'll come back later," she says already walking back towards the door.
Then blondie pipes up. "Frankie, she brought booze. She stays."
He smiles at the woman and grins at Jane. "See? It's unanimous."
Then the TV catches everyone's attention. Something baseball-related is happening. Yay!
"Oh! D'you see that, Frankie?" exclaims Jane, rushing over to the couch to catch the replay. I think that means she's staying.
As the game progresses, so does the alcohol consumption. Jane had brought with her a lot of beer and some harder liquor too. Frankie hasn't seen his supermom family-woman sister this drunk since before the 21st century.
"What are we celebrating anyway?" he asks, finishing off his third beer.
"Singledom," salutes Jane distractedly, then she chuckles, "Not that you two would understand."
"We're not dating," Frankie is quick to say, although his eyes dart to Elisa nervously, who quirks an eyebrow, "not officially, yet. But anyway, what would you know? You haven't been single in, what, 100 years?"
"Thirteen actually," she corrects keeping her eyes on the modest-sized TV screen.
Elisa gives an 'aww' before giving Frankie a pointed look.
Ignoring it, Frankie pats Jane on her back, proud of his sister. "Yeah, going on fourteen."
Jane scoffs. "Going on divorce."
Frankie and Elisa go quiet.
"Uh... I should go." The blonde woman politely gets up to leave.
"No," whines Jane, "the game just got good."
"I just remembered I have to be somewhere, but it was great meeting you, Jane."
Jane rolls her eyes. "Look, I'm a detective. I know you have nowhere you have to be, but knock yourself out. More beer for us, right Frankie?"
Ignoring his sister, Frankie walks his not-yet-girlfriend out, promising to discuss their relationship status later, and thanking her for being so cool. She pecks him on the cheek and makes her way to her apartment two floors up.
"Okay, so, mind starting from the beginning?"
He plops down next to Jane on the couch. Jane ignores him.
"I'm gonna grab another beer. Want one?"
Frankie ignores her.
"You and Maura are getting a divorce?"
Opening the fridge, "So, Elisa, huh? What's the deal with you two?"
"What's the deal with you and Maura? Is that why you're here? She kicked you out?"
Jane whirls around with murder in her eyes, pointing her unopened beer bottle menacingly at her brother.
"I'm here because I thought I could spend some time with my brother, not my mother's fucking clone!"
"Okay, okay. Jesus Jane."
Reigning herself in, Jane leaves the bottle on the counter and storms down the hallway. "I need to pee."
She shuts the bathroom door behind her and secures the lock.
Her eyes begin to sting and blur and her throat feels like there's a lump in it. She turns on the tap to drown out her quiet sobs, but the tears in her eyes don't fall until she's sitting on the closed toilet seat, alone.
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, but the sensation of cold metal draws her eyes to the ring on her left hand.
She takes it off and throws it across the room.
"The thing about falling,
Is that at some point,
You hit the ground."
- Hit The Ground, DESMOND & THE TUTUS
A/N: Sometimes the beginning is disguised as an end. Thanks for reading!
