And Then She Knew
A fierce wave of protectiveness swept over her; an overwhelming tide of rage surged through her veins as her hazel eyes steadfastly stared at the scene unfolding on the screen, as though her unfaltering vigil would and could keep Jane safe from Dominic. And then she knew. Set in 3X07, Crazy for You.
x - x denotes a shift in POV but within the same scene
line breaks denote a shift in scenes; some time has passed
Though I have already written a few femmeslash (GA Meredith/Addison and Teddy/Addison) fics, this is my first venture in this fandom. Please be kind and tolerant.
Don't own anything … except for the mistakes. Written in parts over the past three days; please forgive flow and any repetitive words. Posting this before I lose my nerve.
A fierce wave of protectiveness swept over her.
She would never forget the terror she felt as the image of Jane cuffed and tied to the bed first appeared on screen, the display so horrific and appalling to her. Jane was hurting again. Her heart was being ripped out of her as she watched her friend struggling with the constraints. Oh, Jane!
Perhaps not going with the men to Jane's apartment was a mistake, but she didn't have the energy to argue and protest earlier when Sergeant Korsak had told her to stay. Being alone in BRIC, silently guarding over Jane through the massive monitor, may not be the best of ideas. Though she had a visual of her best friend, which somehow had kept the more sinister thoughts at bay, for the meantime, her inactivity and solitude had only allowed the barrage of emotions to take siege of her body, the more violent and ominous ones growing steadily as the seconds passed.
Her impatience, and the torment of ambiguity, propelled her to get in touch with the men, an update on their whereabouts – specifically, how close they were to rescuing Jane – a necessity to her peace of mind. She had gotten hold of the senior detective just as they had arrived at Jane's block, the sounds of sharp and deliberate movement filtering through the line indicative of the rush to get out of the vehicle.
The disappointment at discovering that Jane wasn't in her apartment as they initially thought was a tiny, insignificant drop in the bucket of overwhelming emotions threatening to overspill.
Prevalent of which were rage, fear, and chillingly, a desire to kill.
When Korsak, Frost and Frankie had arrived back at BRIC a while ago, their presence didn't really do much to alleviate the sense of being alone. In a moment of clarity, she had realized that only Jane could slay that particular threat.
Though the men's company hadn't stemmed her restlessness and agitation, she had found renewed hope and determination as she heard them conferring and brainstorming. Her riotous thoughts had cleared for a few seconds to make room for admiration and respect for the brilliance and capabilities of Jane's partners.
Only to have been bombarded with more unruly thoughts and despicable images running amok in her brain as they discovered the identity of the female detective's captor.
Learning about the extent of Dominic's mental illness had given rise to panic and fright, that little glimmer of hope that she had resolutely clung to for the past hour diminishing significantly.
The unaccustomed rage had first assaulted her when they watched as the baker had entered the room and made his way to the woman lying powerless on the bed. Seeing Jane flinch away fueled the fire burning in her.
She could sense the helplessness in Jane, and it only magnified her own ten-fold.
It was agony, watching, seeing everything unfold. But she couldn't tear her eyes away. Wouldn't dare. An overwhelming tide of rage surged through her veins as her hazel eyes steadfastly stared at the scene unfolding on the screen, as though her unfaltering vigil would and could keep Jane safe from Dominic.
She wanted to kill this bastard.
A tiny voice at the back of her mind reminded her that the object of her murderous fury was seriously ill, but the rest of her mind wouldn't – couldn't – accept it. This … taking Jane, hurting her, binding her, violating and terrorizing her … this was inexcusable. And unforgivable. She wanted to claw at him, to physically remove him from Jane herself.
With her mind being overrun by the terrifying possible outcomes to this situation, she was having great difficulty processing coherent thought. As ideas would sporadically pop up in the very small percentage not dominated by thoughts of Jane, they would soon be overtaken once more by horrifying images that would derail and distract her from formulating solutions to contribute.
You're the dumbest genius I know.
Jane.
The memory of her dear friend's teasing had effectively disrupted that loop she was trapped in, motivating her to snap out of her inability to think straight, thus allowing her to detect the significance of the radiator and window pane.
And she finds herself alone in BRIC once again, the three men tearing out of the place as soon as they had taken note of that address. Leaving her to her own defences.
Leaving her to the visual of an angry Dominic promising Jane that he would make sure she'd never look at anyone or talk to anyone ever again.
Immense relief had washed over her when she heard the door being kicked down, a liberation from the fear choking her when she finally saw Frankie pass through the bedroom door. The immediate danger had passed.
But she was still restless. Fidgety. She couldn't breathe.
The weight pushing heavily on her heart hadn't eased up despite the assuring presence of the men with Jane. She wouldn't calm until the brunette were in front of. Till she could see and touch her herself.
Her gaze still fixated on the screen, she watched as Frankie uncuffed his sister, her fingers already placing a call. She continued her vigil as the officer reached for the ringing device attached to his hip as he started working on untying his sister's legs.
"Frankie, is she alright," she pleadingly asked for assurance, her normally composed tone breaking with emotion she couldn't contain. Her stomach churned as she caught Jane wincing as the brunette gingerly traced her newly unbound wrists.
Her brain barely registered the officer's response as she saw Det. Frost enter the room, hesitantly approaching his partner. As much as she needed an oral report, the visual she had of her friend kept her from continuing her phone conversation.
Her ears pricked when she heard the familiar raspy voice address her partner.
"You found me," the female detective stated with a weak smile. Mindful of the unfortunate attire she was forced to wear, and aware that her vulnerability at the hands of Dominic was exposed to this man earlier, she remained rather detached. Her wariness, however, didn't belie her sincerity when she continued, "I knew you'd be able to hack into the feed," pride and appreciation markedly present in her tone.
"Yeah, we were watching," Frost admitted carefully, recognizing his partner's need for guardedness. He approached slowly, respecting her personal space but unable to stop himself from making sure that she was unhurt; her abduction and witnessing the things he was doing to her had scared the crap out of him. "And I have to say that it was the most disturbing thing I had to watch," he added as he gently grasped Jane's arm to help her up. Having an intimate working relationship with the woman on the bed, he knowingly averted his gaze to accord his partner the dignity and detachment he discerned she needed.
"I bet," she responded, accompanied by a hollow laugh. As her right leg was untied, she twisted her body to plant her feet on the floor, needing to be in control, though she kept her head bowed as she studied her hands. "Thanks for coming to my rescue."
"Actually, it was Dr. Isles who figured it out," Frost revealed, stepping back to give her more room.
Jane's head snapped up.
"Maura was watching," she rasped, her voice cracking with panic. "Dammit," she exclaimed as her eyes zeroed in on the camera.
x - x
Her heart hammered in her chest as those familiar eyes stared back at her on the screen, chocolate orbs displaying worry and concern.
The voice speaking directly into her ear was drowned out by the panic rising in her as she heard Jane's barely audible, "shut it down, Frost!"
"No," the strangled cry erupted from her throat, and she saw Sgt. Korsak enter the room, fatherly concern swathing his demeanor, just before the feed was terminated and white snow replaced the visual she had of the crime scene.
"Bring her to headquarters, Frankie," she immediately spoke into the phone, unable to contain her distress.
x - x
"We're taking her to the hospital to be thoroughly checked," the male officer announced.
"No, I'll do it," came the insistent protest.
"She needs to be treated, Maura. There's bruising and abrasions on her …"
"I'll tend to it myself, Frankie," she had interrupted, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence.
"Maura," he sighed, his decisiveness wavering at the desperation breaking through the line.
"Take her to me. Please."
He paced at the foot of the bed, his eyes keeping a careful watch on his sister as she spoke quietly to her partners. From the living room, he could hear the other unformed officers attending to the detestable man who had taken his female sibling. He saw Jane take the offending shoes off, and he turned away from her, only to be confronted by the display of the extent of Dominic's illness. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat.
"Maura, it would be best …," he appealed gently, his resolve further weakening at the continued whispers of I need to see her. Please. Please. Need to see her echoing in his ear. He took a deep breath, the words he was going to utter threatening to choke him. "She needs to do a rape kit," he whispered, the sentence as revolting as the bile rising in his throat.
A strangled but controlled sob broke the silence. He patiently gave her a moment to compose herself.
"Take her to me," the plea almost sounding like an order followed the pause.
"Maura," he tried again. "You can meet us …"
x - x
"I don't want anyone else touching her," she barked into the receiver. Taking a few necessary breaths to calm herself, she continued, "I'll arrange for someone to come to do … the procedure," her voice breaking at the word, "if I determine that it is necessary to do so. But I want to tend to her myself."
The heaviness cloaking her had somewhat abated a fraction when she heard Frankie's wary assent.
With a final request to please cover Jane with a blanket before leaving the scene, she severed the call. She took a moment to quiet her riotous thoughts and calm her overzealous emotions, and then, flicking a final glance at the massive screen that had held her captive for the past few hours, she quickly and purposefully made her way to her office to prepare.
Jane was coming.
She couldn't shake the agitation that had dogged her since they had discovered Jane missing. Here she was, fidgeting and perturbed, standing at the back entrance to the morgue, anxious for Jane's arrival.
She had spent the past twenty minutes converting her office into a temporary exam room, efficiently gathering the necessary supplies and ensuring utmost privacy by shutting all the blinds and vacating the area, sending the staff that had remained (or at least those working in the areas in the immediate vicinity of the autopsy room and her office) home for the night.
Done with that task, she reached for her phone, unwilling to wait to talk to Jane, but was unable to make that call when one came through. The sergeant detective was kind enough to inform her that Frankie was on his way to deliver Jane to her competent hands, while he and Frost had stayed behind to initially process the scene and will follow to headquarters with Dominic in tow.
Knowing Jane was mere minutes away still failed to curtail her restlessness.
As headlights illuminated the darkened parking bay, anticipation rose in her throat, and she walked briskly to meet the approaching vehicle. Frankie was forced to stop, seeing that the ME was already reaching for the door handle, impatient to get to the passenger sitting inside.
As the passenger door was opened, Maura watched the unusually docile brunette turn in her seat, anticipating her friend's need to have immediate access to her. The detective swung her legs to the right, her bare feet not even having touched the pavement when shaky hands gently braced her head on both sides.
Catching a glimpse of Jane, though the glare on the windshield and the tint on the window accorded her a little more than her friend's profile, had significantly allayed her apprehension. And when the barrier of the door had been taken away as well, seeing Jane in the flesh, despite the dimness in the garage, had managed to alleviate the fear and desperation that had been besieging her.
Her hands, which dealt with death on a daily basis, had the privilege and honor of making first contact with Jane's skin, the nerves coming alive at the connection, soothing her soul.
Until a waft of that man's scent assaulted her when she bent down to lessen the distance between them.
The recognizable surge of rage and fury had slammed into her once more, and the accompanying wave of emotions crashed into her simultaneously, leaving her breathless.
She quickly scanned the detective's face for any signs of bruising or pain that the webcam may have not picked up on earlier.
The timidity and tiredness emanating from the brunette only added to her heightened distress.
x - x
Jane tipped her head up to peer at her friend, caught worried golden orbs quickly perusing her face, warm fingers frantically searching for any other injuries. Though face to face, mere inches separating them, she had yet to capture eye contact. In an attempt to calm the anxious blonde, she reached out and settled her weary hands on Maura's hips, the contact serving to still the agitated woman.
She squeezed the flesh beneath her fingers. Chocolate met dark hazel; concern, worry, trepidation and then, finally, assurance and relief flashing back and forth in silent communication.
She heard Maura sigh heavily before leaning down towards her, and warmth spread through her as she felt the blonde's forehead resting on her own. She closed her eyes to relish the intimacy.
x - x
The familiar scent of Jane – the one that was uniquely Jane – assailed her senses, enveloping her in warmth and security. Everything else melted away.
Jane.
"You're okay," Maura chanted softly, her breath fanning across Jane's face. A prayer and a declaration, as though she was still convincing herself.
x - x
Her heart fluttered at the nearness of her best friend, bathing her in peace and tranquility. A sense of belonging. A sense of purpose. Of being connected so intimately with someone.
Home.
Jane shifted her hands to lightly wrap around Maura's wrists, whose hands bracketed her face to ensure that contact wouldn't be broken.
"I'm okay, Maur," she assured just as softly, unwilling to shatter the serenity that blanketed them.
x - x
Frankie, who had gotten out of the car a while ago but had respectfully given the women a few minutes of much-needed solitude, broke into the calm. Driven by the need to have his older sibling medically treated, he cleared his throat and took a few steps toward them.
His announced intrusion spurred the women to slowly break apart, and he watched with much regret as the ME raised herself to her full height, their hands coming together in a tight grip.
Against his protective instincts, he allowed Maura to help Jane out of the car without offering his own assistance. The women huddled together, the shorter woman's left arm wound tightly around the taller one's frame as they walked through the back entrance, and he turned to shut the door, giving them another few moments alone, before he proceeded to follow them.
"Okay, enough already," Jane huffed with exasperation, swatting her brother's hands away from the fifth throw pillow he's strategically placed around her. She was about to fall off from the couch with all the extra padding surrounding her. "You're worse than Ma, Frankie," she teased laughingly to soften the blow of her rejection of his affectionate efforts. An absolute necessity since he hasn't stopped asking her what he could get her to drink or eat for the past five minutes, incessantly chatting away to mask his anxiety and worry.
She had rebuked the hovering, not wanting to be fussed over. She had initially refused to be checked, brushing aside protestations from her partners, insisting that she could treat the cuts and bruises herself. She just wanted to go home. However, she had heard the phone conversation between her brother and best friend, muted though it was at Maura's end, but she could tell by the tone, the actual words muffled as it were, coming from the receiver, even from a distance, that the ME was distressed. And judging by the facial expressions and the way her sibling had given in to whatever was being said, she gathered that she needed to see Maura. She didn't want to worry her some more, and so she had capitulated without further resistance.
Her eyes flicked to the doctor, noting the faux calm demeanor by which she was unnecessarily reorganizing the medical supplies on the tray she had brought in from the autopsy room. Her gaze, then, flitted to her self-appointed bodyguard, who was blessedly silent at the moment but still fidgeting and hovering within touching distance.
She supposes it could have been worse, grateful that her male counterparts and, worst, her mother, weren't here to add to the as-of-yet tolerable fussing. She's already dreading that encounter with the Rizzoli matriarch.
She rolled her eyes and huffed in slight vexation.
"I don't really need to be checked," she broke into the palpable nervous energy in the small room, causing both companions to look at her. "I just want to get out of these ridiculous clothes," she continued with a scowl, her disgust clearly written on her face as she gestured to her outfit. "I want to go home and take a shower."
"No!"
"Jane …," the other occupants protested simultaneously.
She glared at both of them, instinctually leaning away a fraction as she saw both of them make a move towards her.
She made another valiant attempt at downplaying their concerns, but one glance at the harried expression on the ME's face, she submitted herself to the check-up.
With Frankie standing sentinel just beyond the connecting door to Autopsy, she warily watched the withdrawn doctor don some gloves, trampling down on her restlessness and protests.
She really didn't want to be checked. All she wanted was to go home and be allowed to lick her wounds, to process what had happened to her.
Having been in more scrapes and 'situations' than she'd care to count, she acknowledges the necessity of the exam, more for the benefit of her family and close friends than hers, really. Although, noting how her best friend is struggling to detach herself from her live patient, perhaps it would have been wiser, in hindsight, to have insisted on going to the hospital instead.
She didn't want to subject Maura to the task of treating her injuries and discovering additional damage not clearly visible yet. Her desire and inclination to shield her friend from all that ran fiercely through her. On the other hand, she also recognized the blonde's request (the word used loosely) to conduct the examination herself.
She released another sigh and waited patiently for Maura to prepare herself emotionally for the procedure.
She shifted nervously as the doctor turned to her, clinical persona in place. She shrugged the blanket off of her shoulders, unfortunately unable to dispose of the weariness weighing heavily over her just as easily.
Though barely half a minute had passed, the disconnection between them, the recommended disengagement with which a doctor should conduct herself with a patient, suffocated her. Against her better judgment, aware that she wasn't going to make this easier for the ME, she planted both her hands on Maura's knees, several inches apart from her own. The other woman had been avoiding eye contact, and it was bothering her. She desperately needed the comfort of the connection between them.
Startled hazel eyes finally met hers, giving her a glimpse of the plethora of emotions the blonde had been trying to hide from her. That infinitesimal moment of intimacy was enough to satisfy her need.
She flashed a lopsided grin, communicating her affection for this woman with her gaze, as she released her grip on Maura's knees to present her injured wrists for inspection.
She saw her friend wince at the angry, nasty red marks marring her wrists. Felt the tension radiating off of Maura in waves, the blonde noticeably trying to rein it in.
"It's really not that bad, Maur," she attempted to placate, aware that it wouldn't really elicit its desire effect.
"I'll need to treat that," the ME broke her imposed silence with a wavering voice, "and I'll have to wrap it after."
Wanting the exam over quickly and as least stressful for both of them as possible, she gave herself over to Maura's ministrations,
She thanked the doctor once all the visible abrasions and bruises have been attended to, and then she shifted anxiously when she noticed the other woman eyeing her blouse. Dread crept in.
She didn't have a problem with getting naked in front of Maura. She's done it too many times to really care. She's changed in the car on the way to a crime scene on numerous occasions, and their trips to the gym, as well as their nights out and sleepovers, have already dispelled any uneasiness about seeing each other unclothed, partially or otherwise. Modesty wasn't an issue here.
Though she had studiously ignored it from the moment she woke up to Dominic's face mere inches from her own, and realizing that he had undressed her, she acknowledges that there is a period of time while she was drugged that couldn't be accounted for, reluctantly admitting that she couldn't say with certainty that her present attire isn't concealing additional evidence of abuse.
She wasn't ready to find out; but, more importantly, she didn't want Maura to discover them as well.
"Maur," she objected, squirming at the determined look on her friend's face.
"I need to make sure," Maura immediately stifled the protest, her anxiety giving her the impetus to insist. "For my peace of mind. Please," she urged with a hint of desperation, knowing that the brunette would acquiesce.
With a disgruntled huff, followed by a deep intake of oxygen, she reached for the buttons of the white top before Maura could even think to undress her. She's suffered enough indignity to last her a lifetime.
To avoid any awkwardness, and, to be honest, not wanting to read into any of Maura's reactions, she averted her gaze as the doctor closely inspected her underwear-clad body. Though the ME had maintained clinical detachment, her scrutiny as impersonal and methodical as an ER doctor would have done, Jane was uncomfortable and had to resist the urge to cover parts of body with her arms and hands.
She sought the blonde's face when she saw her straighten from her crouched position, eager, yet albeit apprehensive as well, to learn her findings. The relief on the other woman's face caused her worry to abate.
The reprieve lasted only but a few seconds as she read the trepidation that entered hazel eyes.
"What is it," Jane asked with a tremor in her voice, already reaching for the discarded blanket, an armor against whatever was going to be said.
She heard Maura take a calming breath and clear her throat.
"I asked a colleague of mine," the doctor stated quietly, "A very good friend of mine, whom I trust implicitly, to come here. She's waiting at the lab."
"For," the detective queried, dreading the answer.
"To conduct a rape kit exam," she replied cautiously.
"Maur," she sighed, placing a hand at her friend's shoulder, her other one tightly gripping the ends of the sheet together.
The ME opened her mouth to demur and felt the fingers gently squeeze her shoulder.
"He didn't," Jane declared, stepping closer to her friend.
"You don't know that, Jane," she countered. "You were drugged and unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time, and he could have done something more than undress and dress you."
The detective shifted her hand to cradle her best friend's face, establishing a deeper connection. "Lord knows what that ass did to me while I was out of it, and frankly, I don't want to know. But I do know he didn't … do that."
"Jane …"
"I'm sure, Maur," she interrupted, taking a step back and eliminating the physical contact. "Um, I feel it, uh, down there," she stated haltingly, " when I, you know, um, have sex." She could feel her cheeks suffusing with heat, continuing, "I'm normally sore and achy down there the next day, so yeah, I'm certain he didn't, uh …," she trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
Maura struggled with indecision, the more rational part of her wanting to be absolutely certain, the other preferring to protect her friend by respecting her wishes. Honestly, she didn't want to prolong this agony. She studied Jane's face for a few seconds.
"Alright," the doctor yielded, shedding her gloves as she gazed at the other woman.
They heard movement and voices coming from the adjoining room and gathered that the other male detectives had arrived.
Prompted by the intrusion, both women moved in sync to restore order into the office. Jane swiftly donned the workout clothes the blonde had retrieved from the detective's locker earlier, while the shorter woman began tidying up and disposing the supplies she had used, putting the evidence bag containing the discarded clothes aside to be turned over later on (thankfully, all photographic evidence were taken at the scene, and she was spared that task).
Maura glanced at Jane to check on her progress, and when she was fully clothed, she took a step toward the door to let the others in. Before she could reach her goal, she felt fingers wrap around her own, halting her movement. She turned towards the brunette, a silent question in her eyes.
"Thank you," Jane husked with a tender smile, tightening her grip on the hand she held.
The blonde pulled her in with her free arm, leaning against the solid frame of the taller woman, relishing the familiar comfort of the embrace. "I'm so glad you're okay," she mumbled against Jane's shoulder.
They broke apart after only a few seconds, the voluble conversation filtering through the closed door indicating the urgency to update the men.
After a quick debriefing, and what seemed like a hundred I'm fine from Jane, the two male detectives went back upstairs, leaving the three of them the only occupants of the ME's domain.
"May I go home now," Jane asked childishly, not bothering to hide her churlishness. She was so ready for this day to be over.
"I'll drive you home," the male Rizzoli announced, his stance indicative of an expected objection from his older sibling. "And I'm staying over. I'll crash on the couch," his tone expressing that he wasn't going to be swayed.
"I'm not sleeping on the bed," his sister barked with a growl, "not after what that creep did."
"Fine. You sleep on the couch and I'll take the bed," Frankie snarked back, determined not to be bullied by Jane this time.
Maura, justifying to herself that she had already deferred to Frankie earlier when he insisted on staying close during the exam (she actually had wanted him to leave the moment Jane had arrived), wasn't willing to have her wishes go unheard and unfulfilled this round. Rather commandingly, which startled both Rizzolis, and herself as well, she suggested that Jane come home with her, citing her abhorrence of her bed and any other reminders of the evening's incident. And somewhat cunningly, manipulatively, she added, "I'm sure Angela would want her nearby, too."
"Ma! Ma …," Frankie attempted to interrupt the tirade coming full force through the receiver, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Did she seriously mention something about stretch marks and grey hairs?
Very familiar with his mother's tendency to ramble on in times of stress, he tuned out, the matriarch's impassioned speech droning as white noise to him as he maneuvered the car into the available slot. He was currently parking his cruiser at the garage since it was decided that they were taking the ME's vehicle home.
The women made a detour to the bullpen to give a brief statement for the report, as well as present Jane to Cavanaugh. He was tasked with the unfortunate job of calling their mother. Again.
He had already spoken with her earlier, while Jane was in the office with Maura, and he had just succeeded – barely – in preventing her from racing to the station. He, instead, encouraged her to expend all her energy on cooking up a feast for them, deviously informing her that her eldest child hadn't eaten all day.
And now, with all that food apparently tucked away in little containers and stacked neatly in bags, she was saying that she was about to leave for the station to meet up with them. Apparently, she had the same thought as her son because she also announced her intent to sleep at Jane's apartment.
"Ma," he attempted again, louder this time.
"What?"
"Jane's staying at Maura's tonight. I'm taking them there as soon as they're done with the Lieutenant."
"Oh! Why didn't you say so," Angela admonished.
"Well, if you would have …," he tempered his annoyance, taking a deep breath. More empathetic now to his mother's plight, he didn't have the heart to snap at her. Jane, it seemed, has been a victim quite frequently, a cause for worry and concern for her well-being. Having lived through that hell just a few hours ago, the protectiveness was still fresh, and so he decided to appease their mother. He did see Jane make a face earlier when Maura mentioned Angela, and he knows he ought to have come to his sister's rescue by insisting that he could stand guard, but wanted their Ma to hover over her the way he wanted to a while ago. So, he threw her to the wolves. Jane would survive an hour of being fussed over.
"We'll be there in half an hour, Ma."
Standing by the kitchen island, putting the last of dinner away, her gaze landed on her best friend, who was currently lounging on the couch with a bottle of beer.
As expected, Angela had enveloped her eldest child in her arms as soon as she had stepped into the house. The detective permitted the detested affection for about ten seconds before begging to be released for a shower, which took all of twenty minutes. After changing into loungewear, Maura went to tend to Jane's bandages, and then left her to finish dressing. The brunette had rejoined the group at the kitchen, taking a fortifying breath, before dutifully and indulgently surrendering herself to her mother's fretting, which she had tolerated for over an hour, surprising everyone.
Angela and Frankie had departed a couple of minutes ago, the silence and tranquility a welcome refuge after a very long, very stressful day.
She's been fighting against her impatience to finally have Jane to herself, but in deference to her family, she had, like the detective, tolerated their company until they were satisfied that she was indeed fine. Now that there were no more distractions, she finds that she needs a moment or two to process the emotional upheaval she experienced today.
Usually the one on the receiving end of Jane's protectiveness, she was unsettled by the unaccustomed range of passionate emotions surging through her earlier. The dizzying range of overwhelming emotions was cause for alarm, her normally calm and composed demeanor had all but collapsed against the as of yet inexplicable torrent of anger and hatred. All irrational thought had fled and abandoned her, any voice of reason drowned out by the fear for Jane.
It was only the burning desire to find Jane that had freed up part of her brain to function properly, desperately figuring out the clues that would lead them to her best friend.
It was unnerving. To discover that she was vulnerable to such extreme emotions. No, she was not a robot, contrary to Jane's incessant teasing. And no, she wasn't impervious and exempt from any kind of feelings either. If you cut her, she does bleed. If she's struck or takes a tumble, she does feel the sting and aches. If she's betrayed, she greatly suffers the pain of betrayal. If she fights with Jane, the loss is devastating. She's long learned to live with constant neglect, ridicule and disappointment, now a dull pang in the recesses of her mind, hidden away and only resurfacing when the people responsible for those emotions make an appearance in her life.
What unsettled her was the intensity of such emotions.
Worrying over Jane was not new to her. In fact, with the dangers of her job and the ridiculously high number of scrapes the detective's gotten caught in, worrying had become a staple fixture in her life, as natural to her as breathing.
Anger and fear in relation to Jane she also had to deal with before. Hoyt had inspired those emotions in her, and even if she had the ability to lie, she will not deny that she was relieved and thankful that he was dead. She deeply despised the damage and scars he's inflicted on her best friend and those who love her, and the resentment she harbors towards him will stay with her forever. Rationally, the incident at the jail infirmary posed greater danger to them both, the threat of harm blatantly imminent, but Jane's physical presence at the time had somewhat staved off and muted the helplessness and fear.
What was baffling her was how Dominic, a man diagnosed with a very serious mental condition, which should, in essence, justify his actions, had managed to evoke such a primal and intensely fierce reaction, as opposed to the despicable and contemptible acts committed by Hoyt. She theorizes that it was the helplessness she felt that had elicited such a passionate hatred for this man. Having a visual of Jane but frustratingly unable to protect her. Tamping down on the bile as she watched him lay his hands on her. Fighting against the overwhelming urge to claw at him. Praying to a deity she didn't believe in to keep her unharmed. The revolt thundering through her as she witnessed him kissing her. The vehemence as she saw him nuzzle his captive's neck. The furious possessiveness coursing through her veins as he declared Jane his.
Protectiveness was another part of the equation to her relationship with the brunette, as valuable and fixed as the mutual affection and fondness between them. Jane sticking up for her. Jane easily lying or withholding information to spare her feelings. A hand at the small of her back or gently but comfortingly wrapped around her arm. Confronting Constance at the installation. Investigating Ian. Her adamant attempt to discourage Maura from donating a kidney. Standing in front of her as a shield in the face of danger. Putting herself between Maura and a gun. Arguing with her about climbing a freaking tree.
Evidence of how much Jane cared for her, how important she was to her.
Jane's unspoken declaration of love.
And then she knew.
Immeasurable elation settled over her, and a shiver of anticipation danced along her spine as comprehension dawned on her.
The bravado she'd acquired during her epiphany, which had, in turn, given her the impetus to seek Jane out to have a dialogue straight away, had completely abandoned her now that they were seated at the couch.
Because uppermost in her mind at the moment was why Jane had never said or done anything about those feelings. It bothered her that the other woman hadn't made the slightest attempt to alter the paradigm of their relationship.
She laid her wine glass on the table behind her, and carefully pulled the detective's legs onto her lap, wrapping her hands around her legs, just above the edge of the bandages.
Her heart pounded furiously in her chest.
"I wanted to hurt Dominic," she broke the companionable silence, her voice wavering at the confession. Avoiding her friend's gaze, she carried on, "I wanted to pull him off of you and inflict physical harm on him myself."
Jane, her gaze fixated on the blonde, absently deposited her beer bottle on the table as well, and reached for the hand closest to her.
"I now have an insight on the motivations of people driven to murder," Maura professed, head turning to meet her eyes.
Chocolate orbs perused the doctor's face, taking in the open display of emotions. Amid the deep affection and trust reflected back at her, amid the spark of giddiness and wonder, a question burned in those hazel eyes.
Jane released a heavy sigh.
"You know, don't you," she asked with a rasp, apprehension pronouncing the huskiness of her voice.
"Yes."
A flash of insecurity dulled the brightness of hazel eyes, and she felt a tightness in the region of her heart at the vulnerability staring back at her.
Fight or flight. She was on the cusp of indecision, realizing that what comes next determines the path for them. She could deny it … running is the safer course. The wiser option.
But that hint of insecurity and vulnerability she witnessed made her pause.
"Jane," Maura beseeched, uncertainty coloring her tone.
"Come here," the brunette uttered, shifting and leaning back against the armrest as she tugged the blonde to lie on top of her. She repositioned her body to accommodate the delicious weight pressing down on her.
Maura settled against Jane's torso, straddling the taller woman's right leg, planting her right cheek against her best friend's chest, the steady rhythm of heartbeats soothing to her. With Jane's chin resting lightly against her forehead, she burrowed deeper into the warmth beneath her, bracing her arms against the other woman's lithe frame. She sighed contentedly when she felt arms lightly envelop her, hands gently anchoring her in place.
"Were you ever going to tell me," Maura queried softly.
A few seconds wherein both held their breaths.
"I wasn't planning to, no," the detective admitted just as quietly.
Maura lifted her head to peer at her companion, planting her chin against the back of her hands, her palms and fingers splayed on Jane's chest. Their gazes held.
"Why not," she challenged.
Another pause while the brunette composed what she wanted to say.
"I'm the daughter of a plumber; you're an Isles. My mother, out of necessity, lives in your guest house; you meet up with your parents at one of their houses in Europe. My mom works at the café; your mom installs .. whatever crap that classifies as art nowadays. Country mouse," she stressed with a finger pointed at herself, "City mouse," resting her palm against the doctor's face, her thumb gingerly running along her cheek.
"I'm the daughter of Paddy Doyle, a mobster wanted for fifteen murders. Try again."
"I drink beer; you enjoy wine. I cannot, for the life of me, tell which is the shrimp fork, and you've never even heard of a spuckie. Hell, we even argue about coffee."
Which earned her a smirk from the blonde.
"You paid five hundred bucks for a painting of a swing set, Maur. You'd have to put a gun to my head to fork over more than fifty bucks for a bottle of wine. I grew up with Joey Grant and Giovanni. Your social circle consists of the Brahmins, and Duchesses or Contessas, whatever."
"Do you really think I care about that?"
"No, I don't," she said warily.
They stared at each other, waiting.
"I don't have a penis," Jane blurted out with a lopsided grin.
"I don't need a penis," the ME responded, deadpan, which drew out a hearty laugh from the brunette.
Maura traced Jane's lips with her finger, rejoicing in the intimacy of the gesture. Hope gleamed in her eyes, now more confident about the conversation.
Jane's lips tingled at the contact, and she grasped the curve of the other woman's hip, her nerve endings bursting into life as she encountered a strip of silky skin. She sighed heavily. She was losing grip on the control she's had in place for years.
"You're a genius, Maura. I don't even have a College degree," she presented, the differences between them so marked and pronounced, constant reminders of what shouldn't ever be.
"You don't strike me as someone who belittles herself, Jane," she reproached, her exploration of the detective's face now encompassing prominent cheekbones and a striking chin.
"Hell, no. I know I'm awesome, and I'm too badass to be self-deprecating," she rebuked with a smirk.
"Then why," Maura demanded. "If you love me, why be with Casey and not with me?"
It's true; she wasn't one to belittle herself. She knows she's damaged, knows her faults and shortcomings, but her self-worth isn't tied to material things nor is it measured by what she possesses or has accomplished. How does she explain that she belongs to the likes of Grant and Casey but would never measure up to the kind of partner Maura deserves?
"We would never be equals. We're worlds apart. You deserve someone more than, well, me."
"No one loves me more than you do, Jane."
She didn't counter that statement.
"I can't give you what you need," she whispered.
Maura stilled, her gaze fixed on the other woman's mouth. Struggling to string the words together, she began, "I need … I want …"
I never asked for much. I don't think I really knew how.
"What do you want, Maur," the detective prodded, raising her hand to cradle the back of her companion's neck.
"I want you to let me love you," Maura articulated, leaning in to press her lips against Jane's.
Unparalleled bliss coursed through them at the contact, their eyes falling closed as they zeroed in on the sensations of their lips clinging together, cocooning them in warmth and joy. Unadulterated joy.
They pulled apart, only by a few inches, but their gazes met and held.
Jane stroked the blonde's cheek with the back of her fingers, her heart and mind warring with each other.
"I'm scared I'm gonna hurt you," she revealed softly. "That I'd disappoint you. I'm not willing to risk it."
"I am," Maura declared.
They let the words drift between them for a minute.
It was within reach. If only Jane would take that step with her. She faced a lifetime of regret if they didn't.
"I'm more terrified about missing out on an extraordinary life with you, Jane."
Jane took a moment to look at her dear friend. She knows for certain that she'll always have Maura in her life. Their bond and friendship too strong, their lives too intertwined, their dependence on one another too sacred, for it to be any other way. But would it really be enough to have Maura in her life, when what she was offering was for her to share that life with her?
She shifted her grasp yet again, palm cradling Maura's face, fingers luxuriating in silken hair, and then she dipped forward to capture lips she's longed to feel against hers.