Silent Night
Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles, including the book and the TNT show; Jane Rizzoli belongs to Tess Gerritsen and Angie Harmon, and Maura Isles belongs to Tess Gerritsen and Sasha Alexander. The plot for this story is my own, but that is all I could or would stake claim to. Leave feedback if you'd like; I adore your words of encouragement and your eager questions because they keep my muse happy and my heart light. Thank you for all of the wonderful feedback on "Ask Me"!
Synopsis: "And you've played the piano. Do they still work?" (1x01) Hoyt stole many things from Jane, though she hates to admit it. Now that he's dead, can Maura help her take the most important thing back? Rated T for language use and snogging only. The last five episodes of Season 2 do not exist.
"You know better than to ask me for a cause of death on scene, Jane." Maura's voice was dry but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards and Jane grinned in response.
"So you're saying there's something besides the burns?" the brunette countered.
"I'm saying that the third degree burns covering this man's body have not been determined to be the cause of death."
"But he is a man, perfect, I'll let Frost know." Maura sighed in exasperation.
"You always do that!" She remained kneeling by the body but glared playfully over her shoulder at her best friend.
"Yep, and you love me for it." Before Maura could respond, Jane's phone rang. She glanced at the number and a shadow passed across her face, but she shook it off and gestured with the phone at Maura.
"I need to take this. Let me know when the body's out." Maura nodded in response and turned back to the body, but her attention remained with Jane who was stepping carefully into the next room.
"Jane Rizzoli." The tall brunette's voice was muffled. "Hi, Father Zach, how are you?" After these words, Jane was two rooms away and Maura could no longer hear her, so she forced herself to refocus on her assistants who had just brought the body bag in.
. . .
Darkness spread through the cavernous building like an old quilt, rich with the feeling of safety, and warm in a way that darkness usually wasn't. Around her, she could almost feel the heat of a thousand tiny candles as they flickered, casting moving shadows against quarried stone and colored glass. She did not notice the congregation of hundreds or the movement of children in the aisles, holding pillared candles and trying not to fidget. She didn't notice the flapping of vestments or the smell of spiced cologne as the man in charge of the lights moved past her, returning to his own family. She felt, more than heard, the lowered lights, the ethereal hush which washed over the room, and the gentle glitter of snow as it blanketed the roof far above her. In contrast to her everyday persona, her focus narrowed completely to the ivory keys in front of her.
. . .
It took almost no time for word to reach the CSRU techs, and eventually the morgue, that Jane was on a rampage. Maura heard that the tall brunette had chewed out a beat cop for forgetting to tape off the parking lot, and a crime scene tech for forgetting to bag his slippers on the way out the door. While Maura understood Jane's concerns about losing a conviction through carelessness, the blonde also knew that Jane's patience was generally much more extensive when it came to training "the kids," as she often called them. Everyone had to start somewhere, and if she was yelling at them instead of taking the time to work with them, something definitely had her strung up. No, wait, that wasn't the idiom. Strung out. That was it.
"Maur, do you still have half and half in the dead fridge?" Jane's voice was tinged with frustration and her usual swagger had slumped slightly. Maura looked up from the body cavity before her and smiled at her friend.
"Yes, I do," she replied, and watched as Jane plopped her travel mug on the counter before retrieving the carton. For a moment, Maura contemplated the best course of action. Jane was both upset and exhausted by the looks of it, likely due in part to the three open cases still under investigation and a recently closed fourth. There was no doubt in Maura's mind that, as Jane's best friend, responsibility fell to her in getting Jane to open up about whatever was bothering her. Yet Maura had been studying Jane for almost two years and she knew that questioning Jane now would likely get her nowhere.
"What have you got on the Suarez case?" Jane asked as she replaced the half and half in the fridge.
"I completed the autopsy about an hour ago, but I wanted to process Mr. Crispy, here, before organizing my notes. If you could wait about twenty minutes, I can retrieve my findings, or I can submit them fully this evening."
"Mr. Crispy, Maura? Really?" Jane's eyebrows arched high on her forehead as she took a gulp of coffee from her mug and leaned against the counter.
"That's what Sergeant Korsak called the body at the scene. Is that incorrect?" Maura paused in her efforts to remove the large intestine within the body and looked to Jane for confirmation.
"No, it's not incorrect. I just never expected to hear you say that."
"I am a woman of many surprises," the blonde commented, placing the large organ on a tray to be dissected further.
"That you are." For a moment, the only sound in the room came from the flesh of the man's small intestine as it snaked out of his abdomen. "As soon as I get the rest of these organs sealed for later, I can fill you in on the female body from your Suarez case." Jane limply waved Maura's words away.
"Nah, take your time. I sent Frost home half an hour ago 'cause he was dead on his feet."
"Yes, I noticed his increased intolerance of the body earlier when he came to see me," Maura responded, carefully detaching the man's gastrointestinal tract from his body. "Now that the longshoreman's case has been solved, rest seems a logical course of action." The blonde looked pointedly at her best friend who cracked a tired grin.
"He went home because I told him I'd do the paperwork, Maura. Sleep will come in a few hours." To her credit, Maura understood. Nodding, she returned to the organs on the tray in front of her.
"Why don't you bring your work down here? We could play some music in my office and work together." Seeing that Jane was about to protest, the M.E. added, "I wouldn't mind the company." Jane's face softened.
"Okay. Let me just run up and get my stuff." Maura grinned.
"I believe the phrase is, 'I'll be here.'"
. . .
Her hands felt numb, which was never a good sign. She'd made it through several instrumental introductory pieces—classical music with a touch of Christmas that she's known almost by heart for seventeen years—and the processional. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing! had never felt as lively as it had that night when she realized that she was doing it, her hands were doing it, her fingers were doing it. Now, her play count was up to eleven. One more song, then two pieces to lead out, and she could say that she'd done it.
But could she do it?
. . .
Eight days. Eight days of Maura hearing the whispered conversations of CSRU technicians as they scurried to complete Jane's evidence analyzation before she came barreling down for them. Eight days of watching Jane fidget more and more intensely with the scars in the middle of her palms. Eight days of crime scenes where she'd had to bite her lip to keep from telling Jane to calm down. Eight days of watching Frost and Korsak exchange worried glances as Frankie attempted to clean up the battered remains of patrol officers on scene. Eight days and Maura'd had quite enough of Hurricane Jane. Packing the last of her things into her purse, the blonde knew that, this evening, Jane's apartment was her singular destination. There would be no texting her for a drink at the Robber or with an offer of take out. No, if Jane wanted to act like a force of nature, then Maura could only oblige in return. Driving carefully though speedily to Jane's home, the M.E. contemplated her choices, but realized that the unpredictability of Jane's personality she'd come to care for so much in her best friend made planning pointless. Knocking on the door, Maura simply decided to go with it.
"Did I forget that we were meeting?" a bleary eyed Jane Rizzoli asked as she opened the door.
"No, I just decided to stop by," came Maura's response as she invited herself in, brushing her hand gently down the side of Jane's arm as she passed.
"Don't mind the mess. It's been a long week." Jane resettled into the couch, and Maura glanced at the "mess"—several empty bottles of beer, an empty pizza box, and four pairs of socks.
"A little disorganization is understandable after the recent pile of cases," the blonde returned, sitting down next to Jane. "You want to tell me what you did to your hands?" Jane paused, realizing that even as Maura had spoken, she'd unconsciously been worrying at her wrists and palms.
"What do you mean?" Maura arched an eyebrow at the question, and Jane shrugged. "It's just the weather. Gettin' rainy, you know?" Maura reached out and gently took a hold of Jane's left hand. The brunette tensed imperceptibly but did not pull away.
"This," the M.E. commented quietly, letting her fingertips run over the tightness of Jane's forearm and down into the trembling, taught tendons in Jane's palm, "is not rainy weather." For a good minute, they sat together like this, both women watching as Maura's fingers began to apply deeper pressure to the tiny, clenching muscles of Jane's hand.
"No, it's not."
A/N First, I would really likely to thank all of the amazing authors and readers who read and reviewed "Ask Me." Your support was wonderful and I am proud to say I finished that fic. I hope you like this one, as well, although it will be different (not as sappy, for one thing).
Also, I am completely ignoring the last third of Season Two. Quite frankly, I hated the season finale, and not just because Jane slept with Dean or she and Maura had a fight we now have to wait seven months to see the conclusion of. No, I hated that episode because I feel that the actions of both women were, IMHO, inherently out of character for them. I CANNOT believe that Jane would have sex with anyone while her best friend was sitting in a hospital room at the bedside of her on-life-support mother. I cannot believe that Maura would have such a turn around with Patty Doyle and her biological mother to the point where she is desperate to find out anything she can at the risk of an FBI agent, her best friend, and one of her partners. And I cannot believe that Jane would tell Gabriel what was going on with Patty Doyle when she didn't even want Frankie or her mother to know about Maura's connection to him. Therefore, I am pretending it does not exist. Sorry if that doesn't work for you, but it works for me. :D
R&R if you so choose, as always. Thank you for reading.