A short character study of Jane Rizzoli's feelings regarding her best friend. I find Maura easier to relate to and understand, and wanted to get to know Jane a little better. Addition author's note at the end of the story.
This is a One-Shot.
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She's pulled hastily from the dregs of a dark and shadowy slumber, sounds and images swirling away in a violent rush. The first thing she notices as she awakens is how warm she feels. Prying one eye open, she sees that the warmth is the sun spilling generously through her blinds and onto the bed, blanketing her and Maura -
Maura?
Jane blinks rapidly, attempting to clear her sleep fogged and crusty eyes. When she has some semblance of vision again, she turns a little bit more onto her side to stare at her best friend. Her gaze travels lazily, starting at the woman's toes, their ruby tips concealed by the thin sheet. Toes lead to graceful dancer's feet, which lead to slender ankles, shapely calves, strong but defined thighs, and rounded hips; all hidden by white cotton. Jane knows the doctor well enough, has seen her in enough second skin-esque dresses, jumped into enough pools next to Maura as she lounged in the sun in a bikini (she pleasantly recalls the blonde's shrieks of dismay and irritation as the splash of Jane's cannonball washed over her) to know precisely what her legs look like. Her memory fills in the blanks; quite easily, she notes.
She also notes that if Maura woke up right now, Jane would be caught red handed ogling, but that doesn't stop her. She's Detective Jane fucking Rizzoli, and if she wants to watch her best friend sleep, she's damn well going to.
It's at this moment, in the middle of said ogling, that she starts piecing together exactly why the smaller woman is in her bed. She distinctly remembers feeling hollow and cold after the case they had closed yesterday; she couldn't seem to forget the little girl and her mother, who died trying to protect her, and their mangled bodies. She couldn't completely push away the sight of the father, on his knees in the morgue, having been forced to look at what he had done in a sleep-rage. She couldn't help but feel for him, for his loss of control over his own body.
Sweet dreams indeed.
Jane closes her eyes and lets herself embrace the sadness, and then lets it float away. Maura's been helping her with that lately, knowing that Jane's heart always gets twisted up in her cases.
The Medical Examiner had called at about six in the evening, feeling the effects of the day herself, and they had made plans. This, Jane remembers clearly. Maura came over, bearing wine and beer and glorious food, and the two had turned on the radio, plopped down on either side of her chess board, and dueled and ate and tried to forget about the terrifying world they live in.
That's when it started to get fuzzy in Jane's mind. They drank, a lot. Conquests on the chess board prompted challenges and then bets, and at some point, right in the middle of a match that was going fantastically for Jane, Maura had jumped up and started to dance. Jane scrunches her nose, trying to remember the song, but it dances on the edge of her mind, just like Maura danced on the edge of her rug. She remembers giggling and encouraging the smaller woman, watching her shake her hips and wave her arms. After Maura's dazzling smile and wine heavy voice had convinced Jane to get up and get her groove on (Maura didn't have a clue how much of a dork she was), they had gyrated and wiggled and bounced for a good while. Jane thinks they wandered into her room and passed out, but it's hard to tell. She does know she spent a lot of time laughing, and a lot of time forgetting, all because of Maura.
Jane had started to realize something, the past few weeks. It was a gradual epiphany, crawling its way into her brain, slowly settling itself in. Each minute spent with Maura just emphasized it, outlined it, helped it to glimmer in an attempt to catch her attention. The glimmer had become a blink. The blink had become a halo. Last night, that halo had become a flickering neon sign, and this morning, it was a fully lit billboard in Jane's consciousness.
Maura made her happy. Maura made her warm, and good, and happy. Just looking at Maura makes Jane happy. Her eyes, her smile, her odd little physical mannerisms.
Sure, she could talk a mile a minute, spouting words that made Jane's brain hurt. And sure, she could be a little awkward and a little weird. And yes, she just could not grasp pop culture or slang or when to keep her mouth shut. But she was so damn cute. Jane can recognize the gravitational pull she and Maura have for one another, the inability to say no to the other, the need to be in each other's presence. Maura is the first person she calls when she has a bad day. She knows Jane better than anyone; sometimes even better than Jane knows herself. She pushes gently and prods hard, but never outright tries to change Jane, just tries to help her be a better person.
Jane snorts when she realizes that Maura is rubbing off on her; the Detective isn't the kind of person who sits and ponders and contemplates things. She's a do-er, a split-second decision kind of girl. While Maura sits and dissects things with that magnificently humongous brain of hers, Jane is moving and discovering. Even during cases, she doesn't sit long to think. Ideas and hunches fire off in her brain at a mile a minute. If she's not doing her gumshoe thing, stalking the streets of the city, she's looking at photographs and videos, searching the internet and the police databases, asking questions and lobbying gut feelings back and forth with Frost and Korsak. It's funny that in any other circumstance, Jane would be making things happen, but now, lying in bed with her best friend, thinking about her best friend, she's just...pondering.
To be honest, though, Maura is a worthy candidate for pondering. Jane can't count the number of times that the doctor has been there for her. Not just her, but her family too. How could someone raised so alone and cut off from her family turn out to be so kind and generous? Sometimes it astounds Jane, but in a good way. Not only is Maura sweet, but she is brave too. To put it flatteringly, Maura is definitely a badass. Jane distinctly recalls the time that Maura performed surgery on Frankie in the middle of a high risk and high adrenaline mutiny situation, recalls the way the Medical Examiner's hands stilled as she dove in to Jane's little brother. She also remembers the way Maura commanded Jane to slice her calf open, after that car accident that left them stranded in the woods, ordered her to save her leg, all without any way to dull the pain. Well, okay, the blonde passed out, but she was still brave as hell.
Jane sighs, closing her eyes. Right now, lying in bed, thinking about Maura and lazing in the morning sun, feels so right, that it's pretty scary. Has she ever been this comfortable, waking up next to someone?
Casey flits into her mind, for a moment. Casey... Jane really thought that he might be the one. His dismissal of her had been brutal, cutting at her heart in ways she hadn't really felt before. She thought she was falling in love, but looking back now, she had been foolish. After he had left Boston again, they had kept up with one another, but not enough to actually lay down the groundwork for a solid relationship. Despite that, the end of their relationship still hurt. Maura had been there for her then, too, picking up the pieces, making her laugh, helping her forget. Her best friend had really come through for her, and out of the ashes of the mess that was Casey had grown an even deeper bond with the blonde.
Enough thinking. My head hurts.
When her eyes open again, she resumes her previous adventure of analyzing the other woman's sleeping form. She begins at her waist, where the sheet stops and Maura's flowing blue top begins. She stares intensely at Maura's breasts, peeking gently over the scooped neck of the shirt, her attention hanging breathlessly on the skin rising with each of the other woman's breaths before she glances quickly away to Maura's arms. Whew, that was a close one. She's incredibly intrigued by Maura's breasts, but that's a terrifying thought, so she leaves it alone. The medical examiner's arms are tan and smooth, leading to petite, gentle hands. Jane likes that Maura only goes all out on her toes, and not her finger nails; she guesses this might be because Maura's always wearing latex gloves, but it doesn't matter. She likes them natural.
Jane's eyes skip haltingly past Maura's breasts again to glide over her collarbones, then up her slender neck. When her gaze settles on the blonde's chin, Jane smiles. She studies Maura's jaw; her soft, rounded cheeks; her pierced ears; her long, straight nose; and of course, her beautiful mouth. The one that smirks playfully, smiles mischievously, frowns in concentration, forms a little O of surprise, the one that grins and laughs and giggles. She affectionately observes the other woman's silky, curled hair, admiring the way it shimmers in the sunlight, the way the sunbeams spark tiny little gold flecks in the strands. Finally, Maura's eyes. Asleep, her dark lashes brush gently against her cheeks and her brows are unfurrowed. Jane doesn't think she'll ever admit it, but she loves Maura's eyes. In fact, she often finds herself insanely jealous of them. They are so much more exciting than Jane's deep brown-black irises; Maura's eyes look like the center of a galaxy, or a golden green nebula.
Jane remembers when she was a child, she once proclaimed that she was going to be an astronaut, and she was going to fly deep into space, the first girl ever to do it. Jane didn't think in terms of I want to or I'm going to try to or I hope to. She thought (and thinks) in terms of I'm going to, whether you like it or not. She would sit in the local library, pulling out all the astronomy books, staring in wonder at the photographs of the universe. She loved the colors of space, the dazzling patterns.
Maura's eyes remind her of those days of wonder and amazement. All because of her fucking eyes.
Jane doesn't really know when Maura started having this effect on her, when she suddenly started feeling like her friend was it. You know, it. That one person who just...fits. She doesn't like to label it. She knows she loves Maura. She would do anything for her, would die for her. But she won't label herself. Is she gay? Maybe, but who cares?
Grinning to herself, Jane lifts a hand to brush a strand of Maura's bangs out of her eyes. The blonde's lips tremble into a small smile. Jane bites her lip, debating. Should she wake her? Should she tell her? Should she show her? She feels something bursting in her chest, and she has to do something. And Maura is lying right there!
Humming quietly to herself, Jane wiggles just a little closer to her best friend.
"Maura," she whispers, her voice rough and husky with sleep. "Wake up..."
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A/N: Any and all comments/constructive criticism are lovely! It's been roughly 6 years since I've written fanfiction, so I'm a little rusty. I actually haven't seen every episode of Rizzoli and Isles (mostly just S2 with a couple from S1). I absolutely love Maura; it helps that Sasha Alexander is frakking adorable and an amazing actress. I wanted to see if I could get into Jane's head to understand her better, and thought the best way was through our mutual love of one Chief Medical Examiner.
I hope you enjoyed it =) It is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine. Also, FFNet's doc editor makes me wants to punch things.