Author Note: This is the other fic I've been working on for a long time. It's not finished, so I think posting it will be the kick I need to get it done. It's probably heavier than Heavy, but I hope you will enjoy it all the same. I haven't forgotten about my other fic, that one is going to take a bit of time to get back into. Hopefully soon.
This story is my take on what I think should (or at least could) have happened after the season 6 finale of Korsak's wedding.
Empty
The door slammed shut.
Gunshots fired.
Jane twisted round and retrieved her weapon, holding it out in front of her with her finger pressed against the trigger. The only thing stopping her from carrying through was the sheer look of horror on Maura's face. She placed the safety back on and put it down on the table.
"I'm sorry."
Maura stayed still, frozen to the spot like a rabbit waiting for their inevitable death. A moment passed. Neither of them spoke. When Jane held her hands out to Maura, she stepped into them, appreciative of the arms that wrapped around her shaking form.
"I'm sorry," Jane whispered, kissing the top of her head. Tears crept into her voice. "I'm sorry."
"I should be the one comforting you," Maura said, squeezing her tightly.
"I'm fine."
She stepped out of Jane's arms and stared into her eyes. Fine was subjective, particularly where Jane was concerned. Maura trailed her hands down her arms, not letting go as she reached her fingers.
"You're not."
Jane tugged her hands back and returned to her bottle of beer on the kitchen counter. "I am."
"It's late," Maura said. "You should get some sleep."
"Couldn't even if I wanted to."
"Then lie in the dark."
"What's the point?"
"That won't help." Maura reached for the beer.
In her attempt to pull it back, the bottle slipped from Jane's fingers, landing with a crash on the floor. Tiny shards of glass splintered across the tiles.
"God dammit," Jane shouted, reaching down to the floor.
"Leave it," Maura said, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"No!" Jane brushed the glass together with her bare hands, she flinched and pulled her hand back. "Ow."
"Let me see."
Jane stood up and sped across the kitchen. She turned on the faucet and let the cool water wash over her finger. Maura strode up behind her.
"Can I see?"
"I'm fine."
"Jane."
She shut off the faucet and turned around, letting her shoulders sink. She slouched against the countertop. Lifting the injured finger, she gave it a slight squeeze, prompting blood to form at the edge of the cut. She pushed it into her mouth.
"Stop being a damn helicopter, Maura."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying sorry."
"I…"
"You don't have to stay."
Maura span around, her high heeled shoes tapped across the tiled flooring. She picked up her purse and tossed her jacket over her arm. Her throat ached. She pressed her lips together.
"I can't find my keys."
She walked into the living room and flung pillows from the couch, pushing her hands down the folds of the seat cushions. The harder she looked the more hopeless it felt. She returned to the kitchen.
"Where are my keys?"
"Check your purse."
"They're not going to be in my purse," she said, letting one handle hang down so she could reach into it. A second later she lifted out her bunch of keys. "Oh."
She marched toward the front door of the house. Jane watched her disappear, the door closed behind her. For a moment she felt relieved to be alone, to be free from the pressure of other people. Another moment passed and a heavy weight shifted onto her chest.
"Maura, wait," she shouted, running after her. She pulled the door open and rushed down the front path. She reached out and gripped her wrist, holding her back. "Maura, don't go."
She stopped walking, her arm held behind her by Jane. She pushed the intensity of her emotions to one side, regained her composure and forged the slightest smile. For Jane.
"Okay."
Jane's fingers slipped down to Maura's hand, interlinking each finger. They walked back to the house together. Maura placed her jacket and purse on a chair in the hallway.
"Stay with me," Jane said, her voice flowed into the silence.
After letting go of Maura's fingers, Jane ambled up the staircase and into the bedroom. Maura followed a couple of feet behind. She stripped down to her underwear and pulled one of Jane's large t-shirts over her head. Jane was already under the covers when Maura slipped in beside her. She pushed the sheets away, too warm in the summer heat for even the smallest of outfits.
She reached her arms out to Jane. She sunk into Maura's embrace, pushing her face into the side of Maura's neck. She smelled like home. The familiarity was intoxicating. She closed her eyes.
She didn't expect sleep to come that night.
The scream pulled Jane from the unexpected sleep she'd fallen into, a couple of hours later. She felt guilty for how easily she'd found herself drifting off, but it was late when they climbed into bed and she hadn't slept well all week. It took a moment to orientate herself.
"Maura," she whispered, looking into the dark at the silhouette of her best friend sitting up beside her. Great gasping sobs filled the darkness, surrounding her with insurmountable grief. "I'm here."
She could feel Maura's quivering hands reach for her, pulling her toward her. Jane complied and scooped her up in her arms. She wrapped her body around her and held on tightly. Maura shook against Jane's touch, fighting the horrors filling her mind. She clung to her body, tears spilled from her eyelids.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought I could be the strong one."
Jane fumbled through the lack of light to cup her face, she clutched her chin and peppered kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The salty tears transferred to her lips. She moved her mouth across Maura's face, barely an inch lay untouched until she found her mouth. She pulled out of the brief embrace. Shocked by her actions.
"I," she began, but her voice drifted into the silence. Her hands still tucked around Maura's cheeks.
Maura lifted her fingers to Jane's arms. She trailed the lightest touch across her wrists, down her arms and back up to her neck. Tears flowed freely. She fought against the pain but she couldn't stop it. Maura leaned in and captured Jane's lips, desperate for the feeling that spread through her the second Jane's mouth touched hers.
Any hint of words disappeared into the silence, replaced by their lips merging together, their hands fighting against clothing. It didn't make sense what was happening. Jane clung to her. Her mind lost in the grief stricken fog clouding her judgement. The only thing that mattered in that moment was meeting her most basic desire. She leaned over Maura and pushed down the edges of her panties, lifting her fingers up to meet her. She closed her eyes and felt her way around her body, trailing fingers across her skin, teasing her with every touch, her lips following in their wake.
The overwhelming intensity of her emotions faded into the overwhelming intensity of her orgasm as Maura bucked her hips up to meet Jane's fingers and mouth. She closed her eyes and fought the desire to fall back to sleep, desperate to hear Jane's own cries of delight. Every touch, every kiss filled her with emotions she didn't know how to handle. Everything felt so much larger. When Jane landed on top of her, gasping for breath, her lips capturing Maura's again, the last twelve hours melted away.
Once Maura's breathing had evened out and she was sure she'd fallen back to sleep, Jane slipped out of her arms. She pressed her lips to the side of her head, took a blanket out of the top drawer of her dresser and strode out of the bedroom.
Pushing open the back door, Jane wrapped the blanket around her naked body and stepped out into the cool night air. She stared up at the sky, at the stars lost in the midst of cloud.
It was only then she could allow herself to let go. The tears coursed down her cheeks. Her throat ached. She pressed a hand against the bricks, her head beside it, and sobbed loudly.
x
Maura woke to an empty bed. The headache that pulled her from her sleep banged against her temple, knocking her sick. She ran to the bathroom. Clutching the edges of the toilet bowl, she stared into the water, not quite reaching the point where her being there served any purpose. She laid her arm across one side and rested her head against it.
In the blink of an eye, their whole world had flipped upside down. She felt another wave of nausea, the tell tail signs of saliva tingling at the edges of her lips. Her stomach twisted, yet still nothing came of it.
Another minute passed. Maura spat excess saliva into the bowl and stood up. Running the faucet, she splashed cold water against her cheeks and searched Jane's cabinet for painkillers; one left. She slipped it into her mouth and washed it down with a handful of water.
Standing in the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom, Maura stared at the still empty space. Her body tingled from the memory of Jane's touch. The imaginary feel of her skin flooded Maura's mind. Overwhelming feelings shrouded her, pushing her back into the moment where all that mattered was Jane's body colliding against her own, their fingers and mouths moving like experts across each other's bodies. Tracing maps they somehow already knew by heart.
Disappointment settled above it, pushing the elation down until it sandwiched between their greatest pain and Maura's sadness that Jane was no longer there. The pain in her head intensified. She rubbed at her temple then exited the bedroom, onward down the staircase.
The townhouse had a similar blueprint to Maura's, excepting the additional walls splitting up the living space. She checked each room in turn, before she spotted the back door not quite closed.
Out in the garden, she found Jane sat on a bench by the wall, her silhouette as heartbreaking as any other form. Maura stepped toward her, desperate to feel her in her arms. She placed her fingers on Jane's upper arm, skin to delicate skin.
Jane tugged herself away, her arm slipped out of reach. She stared into the darkness, out across what Maura knew to be the garden. A lump settled in the back of her throat.
How could something so desired hours before turn sour so quickly? Maura stepped back and returned to the house. Her headache lessened with every passing moment, but the heartache lingered. The overwhelming pain barely changed. In the dark of the night, Maura felt the greatest distance between her and Jane, and until she slipped back into sleep on the couch, she thought it would consume her until there was nothing left.
She woke a couple of hours later to Jane shaking her. Maura pressed her lips together and stared up at her. Her eyes wide, frantically darting back and forth.
"We have to go."
Frowning, Maura sat up slowly. Every time she woke, or breathed, she was reminded of the last forty-eight hours. She breathed in deeply and sighed, the weight of the world heavy on her breath.
"Where?"
"The hospital," she said.
"Frankie?"
"No. Korsak."
"I thought he was okay," Maura said, struggling to shift the haze of sleep.
"It's Kiki."
"Oh."
Maura pushed herself off the couch and stood up. She considered changing back into her original outfit. The outfit she wore to Korsak and Kiki's wedding. The outfit that now sat on Jane's bedroom floor, a victim of a horrible event. Instead Jane handed her a pair of gym pants.
"They're clean," she said, like it mattered in that moment.
"I'll drive," Maura said, snatching Jane's keys from the coffee table before she could reach them.
Considering the situation, she didn't think it right for Jane to drive. They'd both lost someone they loved, but for Jane it was her mother, for Maura she was merely a friend. It didn't matter that she considered her a surrogate mother. It didn't matter that they were somewhat closer, as friends, than Jane and Angela had ever been. She was still not the mother who birthed her into the world.
The drive stretched out, elongated by the warped sense of time Maura was living under. When they left the hospital in the middle of the night, Kiki was critically ill. Three bullet wounds. Three penetrating injuries.
"Vince," Jane said, stepping toward him. "How is she?"
"Dead," he said, his tone lifeless and broken.
Jane reached a hand across the space but he brushed her away. Rage burned in his eyes. Maura swallowed, the painful lump reforming quickly. This should not have been the end result of their wedding day.
"I'm so very sorry," Maura said, placing a hand on his shoulder. His whole body sunk under it.
"I'm sorry," Jane said. "None of this should have happened."
He scoffed, distancing himself from Jane. He stared into her eyes, and all she could see were the red rims of tears, the bloodshot pupils. "No. It shouldn't."
"I'm so sorry," she said, stepping forward. He retreated further. "Please, Vince."
"I have to go," he said, turning around and marching down the hospital corridor.
"But I'm sorry," Jane said, leaning forward, one hand covered her mouth. The other on her knee, steadying her. Her shoulder's shook, her body weakened by the additional weight of grief and guilt. She stepped sideways, until the cool of the wall hit her arm and she reached out to steady herself better.
"It's okay," Maura said, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her back into her embrace. She lifted her hands around Maura's back, her body shook harder, tears flowed faster.
It wasn't okay.
It would never be okay again.
x
He looked so small. His just over six-foot stature shrunk under the bed sheets. There was no colour to his skin, no light in his closed eyes. He was Francesco Rizzoli Junior, and a stranger. Jane swallowed. She perched on the edge of the plastic chair and clutched his fingers, squeezing them tighter and tighter until she was sure he really wasn't just going to wake up.
"Why'd you have to do it, Frankie?" she asked, stroking the back of his hand. "Why'd you have to run after her? Ma was dying. I know she shot her. But she was dying on the floor and you stupidly ran after her."
Tears gathered in her eyes making it harder to see anything but the blur. She stared into it, embraced the lack of clear vision until she blinked, and the tears strolled down her face.
"She'd have been proud." She trailed her hand up his arm. "You got her. She died because you were brave. Braver than me."
She didn't do what she should have done. She was a good cop; a fantastic cop some might say. She'd been awarded medals. She was revered. Her achievements paled in comparison to Frankie's bravery. She'd pressed her fingers against the wound on her mother's chest, a job that Maura could have done if she hadn't barked at her to back off. While Frankie was firing at her shooter, being shot by her.
She reached across his stomach. Only when her mother's condition deteriorated did she leave her. Only when the lack of bravery no longer mattered did she get up and run after them.
Too late.
They were both on the ground. Frankie was already crawling across the floor desperately seeking help.
