Maura Isles spent a lot of time in her own head.
At the moment, she was sitting in her living room, sipping a glass of chardonnay. A book, some thick book of non-fiction that she'd hoped would distract her for a few hours, lay open and long-forgotten on the coffee table in front of her. Instead, she relaxed back against the plush cushions of the couch, staring into the fire.
It was Christmas Eve, and Maura, much like Scrooge she mused, was haunted by the ghosts of Christmas.
As a child, she had cherished the holiday season. For a moment, here in the present, she could still hear the hustle and bustle of decorators and caterers as they worked to get their home ready for the holiday season, her father's laughter drifting up the stairs, and her mother's softer voice, conferring with Alice about the tree decorations. Her parents stayed close to home for the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, hosting parties and fundraisers. Their presence filled the normally still house, and she loved the sound of them, of the parties and the dinners. In her best dress, she would play the piano for them, night after night, receiving a hearty round of applause and praise from everyone, even her parents. Later, as she lay in bed listening to the music and the laughter coming from the rooms below, she would wonder what her birth parents were doing right then, how they were celebrating the holidays. She would drift off to sleep imagining just the three of them, together, opening presents around a tree and laughing.
Looking back on that childish fantasy now, having found her birth father, Maura scolded herself for such frivolous indulgences, based mostly on curiosity and a vague sense of wanting more of her adoptive parents' time. While she couldn't say definitively that Patrick Doyle had never spent a quiet Christmas gathered around a tree with just his family at his side, she was pretty sure he hadn't. She forced herself not to think about the Christmas' for other little girls he probably had a hand in ruining.
As she got older, her adoptive parent's tradition of entertaining for the holidays gave way to more travel during the holiday season. They were not getting any younger, and enjoyed the time spent together in different places around the world. Sometimes Maura would join them for Christmas, in Rome or San Francisco, or wherever they happened to be. There would be a nice dinner, which Maura enjoyed because she loved to hear her parents and their friends discuss their travels. They always parted with promises to spend more time together.
A log collapsed in the fire in front of her, sending up a shower of sparks that startled her for a moment. She'd purchased half a cord of almond wood this year, and was enjoying the pleasant, sweet odor it gave off. Maura considered putting another log on the fire, but decided against it. She would go to bed soon. There didn't seem much point in staying up late.
But the fire reminded her of one particular Christmas, a fateful one as it turned out. They had been seeing each other for over ten months when Garrett invited her to spend Christmas with his family in Scotland. Her parents had been in Boston then, but her mother had insisted that she go, recognizing it as Maura's official introduction to the Fairfield family before Garrett proposed. As Maura packed, her mother had begun sorting wistfully through her jewelry, and Maura knew she was already planning the wedding.
The thing she remembered most about the castle was the enormous fireplace that dominated most of the rooms they spent any time in. Even Garrett's suite had a hearth in the sitting room so large he'd joked that they could sit in it and have afternoon tea. She spent that Christmas studying Garrett with his family, watching how he interacted with them. It did not take her long to realize that Garrett was a better man when he wasn't around his brothers or father. When they were alone, just the two of them, Maura could see a life with him, for them, one in which they could be happy together. But, when Garrett was around his family, though fiercely loyal to one another when push came to shove, the three brothers were also destructively competitive for their father's attention, and this brought out a side to Garrett that she did not like very much.
And, in her own blunt fashion, she had told him so, one evening when they'd slipped away for a weekend of skiing in Switzerland toward the end of the holiday. And, to her surprise, he had agreed, and for a time they were closer than ever, practically inseparable. But it was the beginning of the end for them. Eventually, in helping him find his own way in the world without his family, she ended up encouraged him to do so in a place she could not follow, not without sacrificing all of her own dreams to be with him.
This year, her father had been invited to give a series of lectures in Japan. The year before they had been in Egypt, and Maura hadn't seen them then, either, though they'd spoken on the phone. That year was the first of many Chrismas' she spent alone.
And so, here she was, alone at Christmas present. And probably, with the way things were going, Christmas future, too, she thought.
It had been a difficult year for her, and in the weeks since the takeover of the precinct, the quiet that had been such a constant fixture most of her life had once again begun to creep back in. But it was something she was familiar with, so she had tried to fill it in all the usual ways. She had decorated her home for the holidays, forgoing hiring a decorator and doing it herself. She had purchased a mountain of toys and clothes for needy families and taken them around to various shelters and city agencies. There had been hours spent reading, even more hours spent shopping for herself online. And Maura had gone out nearly every night since Thanksgiving to charitable fundraisers, music and dance performance, or other cultural events.
But, the solace, the beauty and joy that she had once found in all of those things eluded her. All it did was remind her of how a single voice had taken the place of all those things and chased away the silence without even trying.
Jane.
Maura had had weeks since the incident to think, to analyze. The scenes played out over and over again in her mind, in perfect detail.
Jane frantically looking up terms in a medical dictionary.
Jane facing down Bobby, standing between her and the gun.
Jane begging her to do something, anything. Begging her not to let Frankie die.
Jane shooting Bobby through herself because nobody else would stand up and take the shot. Nobody would do anything.
Nobody except Jane.
Maura saw herself, too, cringing and whining, her own cowardice and rigidity forcing Jane to waste precious time and energy that she could've used to figure out that Bobby was behind the whole thing much sooner, before such drastic steps had had to be taken.
Intellectually, Maura knew she did not have the crisis training that Jane had. She had never been taught how to deal with a hostage situation, especially when she, herself, was the hostage. But, intellectually, Maura also knew that she did have training, she did have expertise and should have been able to step forward, to help her friend. She had failed. And it had nearly cost two people their lives.
Maura wiped a tear that had begun to track its way down her cheek. Jane and Frankie were both alive, that was something, and she was thankful. Frankie had made a full recovery, and Jane was on the mend as well, though still not back at work. They'd even come by for the precinct Christmas party earlier that day.
Maura had scheduled an autopsy during that time to keep herself away. Jane didn't come down to see her.
She and Jane hadn't spoken much since the shooting. Maura couldn't face her. And Jane, who was on leave and in physical therapy almost every day, hadn't tried very hard to talk to her, either. Maura didn't know what she was going to do when Jane came back to work full time next month. She began to think it might be a good idea to look for a new job.
Right now, they were probably all at Angela and Frank's house. Maura could picture it, one corner of the living room taken up by a huge Christmas tree Frank had gone to New Hampshire to get. Hanging from it were decorations that Frankie and Jane and Tommy had all made as kids. And Jane and Frankie would be sprawled out on the couch, watching something on television. Frank senior would be stomping around and grumbling about something. Tommy might even be there, too. Maura smiled slightly at the image, knowing that any second, Angela would call Jane into the kitchen to help her get dinner ready. Which Jane would do, protesting all the way.
The Rizzoli's had a lot to celebrate this year, Maura thought. It was good that they were all together right now. They needed this time. That there'd been a time, not that long ago, that she would have been there with them this evening did not escape her.
But, she didn't deserve to be there, not when she had let them all down so badly.
Maura shook her head, reproaching herself for this bout of self-pity. It was uncharacteristic of her, even under the circumstances. She rose from the couch, and walked over to her Christmas tree. Beneath it, there was a single gift, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a gold bow. She'd bought it for Jane months ago, before everything had happened. At the time, she thought she and Jane would be spending at least part of the holiday together.
Biting her lip and thinking for a moment, Maura reached down and picked the present up, deciding that she needed a distraction. She pulled on her coat and scarf, and tugged on her boots before setting out into the light dusting of snow that had fallen earlier this afternoon. Jane would be at her parent's house. Maura couldn't go there, not after everything. But she could leave Jane's gift for her at Jane's apartment, as a sort of peace offering.
The streets were empty as Maura drove to Jane's, the gift sitting in the passenger seat beside her. As she turned onto Jane's street, however, Maura saw Frankie's car, and Frank's truck parked on the street in front of Jane's building. Glancing up, Maura saw Jane's apartment ablaze with light. They must've decided to celebrate Christmas at Jane's, she realized.
Maura sat there for several long minutes, trying to decide what to do. At first, she thought maybe she could go up and just leave the present outside Jane's door for them to find when they went out. But no, someone else might find it and steal it. She couldn't go up there and knock on the door. That didn't feel…right, somehow, under the circumstances, to show up uninvited like that. She wondered if she could leave it in Jane's car, but realized she couldn't get into it. She'd have to go into work and leave it for Jane on her desk, then, she thought. Frost or Korsak would make sure she got it.
Maura was about to turn the key in the ignition, satisfied with that plan when a soft knock on her passenger side window startled her. Glancing over, Maura almost panicked when she saw Jane leaning down looking in at her. She made a motion with her hands, indicating that Maura should roll down the window. Numbly, Maura complied, her mind stalling out for a moment.
She stared at Jane, silently, thinking for a moment how amazing it was that she was standing out here, on the street on Christmas eve, when she had come so close to not being here at all. "I just…I came by to bring you this," Maura said after a moment, still staring at Jane. She reached over and picked up the present, holding it out to Jane. "I was just going to leave it for you. I didn't think you'd be here."
Jane didn't say anything for a moment, instead reaching down and opening the door. She slid into the seat next to Maura. Gingerly, she took the package from Maura's fingers and laid it on her lap, staring down at it. "We decided to do Christmas eve at my place this year. Do something different. It's just us, not the whole family. Which is good, I'm not really up for my cousin Mario's slideshow of his trip to Italy this year."
"That's nice," Maura said. The picture of Jane's whole family filling Jane's apartment, sitting around the small dining room table was a nice one. They lapsed into silence again. Maura was just about to urge Jane to go back inside when she spoke.
"Ma set a place for you," Jane said. "I kind of…let her think I'd invited you. I'd planned on asking you," she added quickly. "Frankie told her you weren't coming after she set the table. She wanted to know why. I told her you probably had some fancy Christmas ball or something to go to," Jane added, with a stiff attempt at a laugh.
Maura glanced over at Jane and tried to smile. "Not this year," she said. "Just me and Bass."
They sat in silence again, the tension thick between them. "I want you to know that I'm so sorry, Jane," Maura said, finally unable to stand it anymore. She hated the way her voice wavered as she spoke.
"For what?"
"For that day," Maura said, her voice breaking. "For everything I didn't do, or didn't do quickly enough." She'd thought it would make her feel better to say the words, to give voice to what she was feeling. But they only made Maura feel worse than she already did. "It was my fault, and please don't tell me it wasn't. You shouldn't have had to beg me to help. I should've just done it."
Jane didn't say anything, and when Maura hazarded a glance over at her, she was staring out the windshield. "Because," Jane said, flatly. "If you had, I wouldn't have had to shoot myself."
Maura nodded, but couldn't bring herself to say anything.
Jane sighed. "You spend too much time in your own head," she said, after a moment.
"Don't change the subject," Maura said.
"I'm not. You're the one who doesn't like 'what ifs.' Yet here you are playing a big game of it."
"It's not a game," Maura protested. "You weren't paying any attention to Bobby the whole time we were down there. You were too busy with me. Who knows what kind of says he was giving off."
"Tells, Maura," Jane said with a grim laugh. "They give off tells. Which I should've picked up while I was talking to him up in the bullpen, Maura," Jane said. "Believe me, I had plenty of time to figure out what a scumbag he was before all hell broke loose." Maura could hear the exasperation in Jane's voice. "I didn't, okay, and that's on me, not you."
Taking a deep breath, Maura looked back over at Jane. "It's Christmas eve, Jane. I didn't come here to fight with you," she said, gently. "You should go back upstairs. They're waiting for you."
"No, we're going to do this," Jane said stubbornly. "We're going to clear the air about that day, like we should've done weeks ago."
Bowing her head, staring at her hands as they gripped the steering wheel, Maura considered arguing with Jane until Jane gave up. Even with the distance between them she could probably hold out long enough for Jane to give in and leave. Instead, she swallowed. "I couldn't face you," she whispered. "Or your parents."
Jane was staring at her. Maura could feel her eyes on her. "You saved us," Jane said, disbelief in her voice.
Maura looked up sharply at her. "No," she choked. "I didn't."
"Twice," Jane continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You saved us twice. They told me at the hospital that Frankie would've died without the chest tube you put in. You saved him, and I know they told you this, so I don't understand why you won't believe it."
"Jane, stop." Maura contemplated getting out of her own car and walking away.
"No," Jane said forcefully. "You need to hear this. You saved us, with the radio. I thought we were dead there, I really did. And that Bobby was going to get away with everything, and I was so sorry I'd let you down, and that I wasn't going to get to tell you—" Jane stopped mid-sentence. "You made sure Korsak heard everything, ruined all of Bobby's plans at being the hero." In a quieter voice, she continued. "And then you kept me from bleeding to death until the ambulance got there."
Maura's throat hurt, and her eyes burned. Logically, everything Jane said made sense, but Maura couldn't let go of her guilt. Jane had still ended up nearly dead that day.
"The truth is," Jane continued. "There are probably a million things you did and didn't do that day, and a million things I did and didn't do. But, look at me, Maura." Reluctantly, Maura lifted her eyes to meet Jane's, who was staring at her with so much intensity that Maura immediately wanted to look away. "The important thing is we're all alive. We're alive, and the bastard who *is* responsible, who set all that in motion, is dead."
She wanted to reject Jane's words, retreat from them, because they were something akin to vengeance, though not quite. But Jane continued, lifting her hand to grip her shoulder, hard. "Bobby Marino is responsible for everything that happened. Not you. You're a hero."
A part of her wanted desperately to believe what Jane was telling her, to just accept that she had actually done some good that day, even if it didn't feel that way to her. "That's really why you stayed away?" Jane asked. All Maura could do was nod, slowly.
Jane's fingers squeezed her shoulder slightly, before letting go. "You gotta believe me, Maura. You helped save us that day, don't ever think you didn't."
Now, it was too much. Maura felt tears begin to slide down her face. But the weight of the guilt she'd been carrying ebbed away ever so slightly at Jane's words, at the conviction with which she said them.
Maura wiped her eyes. "This isn't why I came over here tonight," she admitted. "But thank you."
"Thank you," Jane said. "I don't say that often enough to you, especially since I sometimes ask a lot. I'm sorry for that."
Maura wanted to say she was sorry as well, sorry for not knowing how to be a better friend, for not being able to just be what Jane needed, whenever and whatever Jane needed her to be. But the words got stuck in her throat and she couldn't say them, at least not yet.
Jane must've seen something in her expression that told her what was going through Maura's mind. "We can talk about all that later tonight," she said. "Come on inside."
A/N I'm clearing out old fanfic from my hard drive, though I hestitate to post this and the ones that follow because they haven't been beta'ed. I know people will probably think this story needs more, but I feel it's complete. What would follow is just a typical Rizzoli family Christmas Eve dinner, and there are dozens of stories that cover that, so I didn't feel the need to. I mainly just wanted to write about the aftermath of the shooting from Maura's perspective. I wrote this well before second season started, so it very much reflects the characters of Jane and Maura and their relationship as I understood it at the time. Reviews, good or bad, are appreciated, and thank you for reading.