A/N so this is something that will get a wee bit angsty, but it does, actually have a happy ending. I can definitely picture Jane as the sort that had smoked when she was a teenager just because it was the 90's, and smoking was cool and rebellious, and just sort of grew out of it outside of moments of stress.
She gave a furtive glance around her, trying to ensure that there was no one around that would possibly be able to recognize her and sat down on the edge of a planter, giving one last look as she clicked the lighter to life. She felt vaguely like she was fifteen again, smoking a joint just because she could, and not actually enjoying the feeling of being stoned. But this, she thought, as she took a long drag of nicotine enhanced goodness into her lungs, was just what she needed right now.
This was her rare treat to herself. And this case had gotten to her. This was something to calm her jangled nerves that a cup of coffee, or youtube videos of puppies, or even one of her mother's homecooked meals couldn't do. She closed her eyes, sighing as the deep smoky taste flittered over her tongue, deep into her lungs, chased by a little gasp of fresh air to hold it there.
She'd never really been a smoker per se. There was a time, in her youth, where she had a pack on her at all times, but it had been for show more than anything. Sure she smoked, when it was still legal to do so in bars, because cigarettes and beer just went together like rum and coke, or tequila and lemonade. Or her senior year of high school, when everyone smoked, and it made her feel less like Rolly Polly Rizzoli as she pretended that having a cigarette helped keep the weight off.
And it'd sort of been a fall back comfort for her, in moments like this, when she just watched a fucking five year old killed without remorse. When she couldn't quite think of anything else to stop her from laying into the bastard that did it and taking justice into her own hands. So she'd excused herself from the interrogation, leaving Korsak and Frost to do their thing, and snuck out back to enjoy a cigarette.
She'd barely taken three drags when she saw the door open again. Shit. She thought, watching who came out of it. Shit, shit, shit. If it was anyone else, she wouldn't have cared. Frost or Korsak might have given her some gentle ribbing, but they wouldn't have cared. But Maura? There was no way she was ever going to live it down if Maura caught her smoking. She looked around like a cornered animal, trying to find an escape route, and only when there weren't any to be found, she tossed the cigarette away, and did her best to look innocent.
Anyone else, and she'd tell them to piss off. But Maura? She didn't know how she could stand it if Maura was disappointed in her for something that she should have had more self control over. "Jane!" She scowled at the ground, hating that her smoke had been cut short. "Vince and Barry said you'd be out here."
"Yeah, just needed to clear my head. That guy really got to me." She did her best to put on a happy face, knowing that Maura would never buy it. She hoped that the slight narrowing of Maura's eyes was over her fake show of joy than over getting caught. She thought she'd gotten away with it too, until when she slipped down into the morgue later that afternoon.
There was a half-autopsied corpse sitting on the table, and her curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked inside the Y-incision to see black, atrophied lungs worn through with holes. A yellow, sclerosed heart, and she couldn't help but smile slightly to herself, shaking her head at Maura's silent chiding of her. Her best friend knew her far too well. Any confrontation would have just led to her doing the same thing anyone did when they caught her smoking. Lecture her about how terrible it was for her. Maura, however, knew that actions spoke louder than words when it came to her.
And somehow, it did a much better job of making her feel guilty than any lecture could.