My first Rizzles, I hope I did it justice. I don't own any characters. Please do enjoy. :)
Remembering is hard but is forgetting harder? We spend so much time on trying to recall some of the most plain and unimportant things. We sweat over not remembering if we closed garage door, did you leave our lights on? You don't remember where you put your car keys when you came home last night, but that's okay cause in a few seconds you will find them on your coffee table in the leaving room. Remembering is hard. But when you try to forget on purpose, it doesn't look easy anymore. You can't shut your brain off, you can't make it suddenly erase things you don't want to remember from your memory. Try as you may, it won't work. And when you lay in bed, doing your best to forget, that's when you remember the most.
You walk into the Dirty Robber and you smile to yourself at irony of this place. Robber... robbing you off from everything good and solid in your life. Well, at least tonight. You take a deep breath and swim through sea of bodies, everyone laughing and sipping their favorite beverages. Looks like you're the only one who hasn't left your problems at the entrance. You stop somewhere next to the happy blond woman who is flirting with a guy in a checkered shirt and you look around. You see her standing with her left hand in her pocket, talking with someone you don't recognize. The feeling of warmth overflows your body and you smile to yourself second time that night, but this time it's because of her and it's not ironic or caused by pity. It's pure, you decide as you see her bring bottle of beer to her lips and take a sip. You can see she's bored, probably listening to the guy in front of her talking about something so dull that she can't pay attention to it. You see her furrow her eyebrows in disbelief. They're probably talking about baseball cause you can't imagine what is she more passionate about.
Some time ago she gave you the same look when you told her that you can't see her anymore cause you're not her toy and she can't just play with you when she's lonely and then leave you empty and shallow when she's had enough. You didn't use the exact words but that's what you had in mind. And it crossed your mind once or twice, to keep seeing her, to keep her close without anyone knowing, like a dirty secret she was. You thought about being egoistic and selfish to the core, for once not thinking about other people but about yourself, but it turned out life is not simple and you can't forget. You couldn't forget that every time you touched her and made her sigh with pleasure, he did the same. You made her scream your name while grabbing fistful of your expensive, cotton sheets and later he did the same to her, only difference was she didn't have expensive sheets to grab.
And you felt rage and anger, cause you thought you were a grown up. Grown ups are rational, grown ups share. But when it came to her, sharing was not an option. You either wanted her whole or not at all. And she knew that would happen, she warned you at the beginning of your love affair that you would want more but she wouldn't be able to give you anything else and you said you didn't care. You thought having her almost every night, in your bed, would be enough. But it wasn't. And you told her to go. You told her to get her stuff and leave.
"This is meaningless, isn't it?" You asked although you already knew the answer. She looked at you like she didn't understand what you were talking about.
"What is meaningless?"
"This... us" you whispered as you grabbed the blanket lying on the ground and you wrapped it around you. Warmth gave you temporary comfort. You saw at the corner of your eye that she was trying to tell you something that would ease you mind, something that would keep you two from this irrefutable downfall you were heading for.
Instead there was silence.
"You should go" you said and you sat up on the bed, your eyes stumbled upon the BPD t-shirt lying next to your feet.
"What's wrong? I thought we were fine" she asked, her voice filled with fear of what's coming next. "Are you..."
"Yes" you said and you sigh deeply. You ran your hand through your golden hair and you tried your best not to cry at how stupid and naive you were to even think this could ever work. And you started having feelings you shouldn't have. She told you that you would but you didn't listen.
And you wait for 'I told you so', but it doesn't come. Instead you hear the sounds of dressing up and BPD t-shirt disappears from your eyesight, sparkling the feeling of loss inside of you and your crying heart. You look up and see her standing there, next to your bedroom door, her eyebrows furrowed.
"I don't want to leave" she said. Her hands in her pockets she looked like a child that just has been scolded by her mother. She looked smaller than her usual self, not confident at all.
"I don't want you to leave" you said. Who cares that you told her to do so just two minutes ago, you didn't mean it. You wanted her to stay in bed with you, hear her heart hum underneath your ear. But just because you wanted her to stay didn't mean she could. So for once you decided to talk instead of choking your thoughts to death. It hurt, but it had to hurt.
"I can't stay?" she stated it more than asked it and you nodded your head. As a woman of so many words you were awful quiet that night.
You smiled to yourself third time this night at how easy it was to forget your words when it came to her. You look at her and for a second her eyes sparkle, the widest smile crawls up on her face and you feel like you chose to wear the thickest clothes you own. She walks up to you and leans for a hug but you take a step back, you're not ready yet. She's Jane and you're not over her. You suppose you never will be but you're not going to admit to it just yet.
She's trying to not look hurt, but you know better. Bouquet is slipping from your palms as they become sweaty.
"This is for you and Casey, congratulations" you say and you're glad that you didn't wear a dress with cleavage tonight cause your body doesn't like to lie.
She looks at you weird and there's something in the air that you can't exactly put a finger on. Then she smirks and takes lilies from your hands.
"Thanks a lot, Maur. I see you finally started to make funny jokes, good for you" she says and looks at the flowers with pity. You're not sure if she just called you out on lying or there's something else going on. You are deep in thought and then you're not, cause you see her stare at you, her eyes sparkling again and you feel like you're love sick puppy yet the problem is you shouldn't. You guess you forgot.
"What are you talking about? I am genuinely trying to be happy for you and Casey now that it's probably going to be more than just temporary arrangement" you try your best for your voice not to crack. This is isn't about you and your feelings anymore, this is about her and you want her to be happy.
"What are you talking about? Are you sick?" She's trying to feel your forehead but you slap her hand away.
"There's no need to be rude, Jane. Just because my feelings for you are so obvious it doesn't mean I can't act like a grown up and accept life as it is" you say half offended and you're quite proud of what you just said. It sounded confident, strong, something you didn't always know how to be.
Just as she tries to say something Korsak shows up from behind her back, colorful drink in his hand. He's grinning.
"Hah, hello Doc!" He looks at the flowers, suddenly serious. "What's that?"
"Congratulations flowers from Maura" she says but her eyes never leave yours and you feel like you're about to die from feeling anger, sadness and love at the same time. You look at detective Korsak and his apologetic expression.
"Remember when I told you that Jane and Casey got engaged? Well, turns out it was a gossip cause they actually broke up" he says and you don't know if it's because of shame or the alcohol in his body but his face turns red as he walks away claiming that he has an important call to make.
And you feel like your knees are about to give in but she grabs your hand to keep you steady, her slander fingers gripping your forearm. Before you get to hear her explain you're out of there, stumbling on your way to car. You hear her voice calling your name but the beating of your heart seems to deafen your sense of rationality. You get into your car and you drive through the night until the sky starts crying and you have to stop cause you're crying too and you can't see anything. Isn't it what you wanted? Her? Cause she's free now, no more man to share her with, no more her leaving you before sun comes to wake up just because she couldn't? It all could be over now, you could just be normal. Isn't it what you wanted? Yet you can't fight this feeling of anxiety cause you feel guilty that they split up. He probably found out, left her and now she's trying to pick herself up by playing 'I'm okay' card. And it's your fault. You take a deep breath and you start your engine once again now that the rain has stopped both outside and inside of your car.
You need to stop thinking about it, at least for tonight. You drive slowly, wheels leading you to your house. After five minutes you turn the key and open your front door. You walk through the door and straight to the kitchen. Red light on your voice mail is flickering and you press 'play' as you slip off of your high heels. "Look, I don't know where you went and what are you doing. I broke up with Casey, but I guess you already know that. It just... It didn't feel right anymore, I doubt it ever felt right. Not like with you. I feel stupid telling this to your voice mail. But if we could just have a coffee sometime, not as friends but as something more, I would be really happy. Just call me, okay? Bye."
Her voice is ringing in your ears as you sit on your bar stool and smile for the fourth time. And you know you shouldn't. And something in your head is telling you that it's probably bad idea to call her but you know you will, eventually. Cause you know you felt guilty few minutes ago but you already forgot why. Remembering is hard, but I guess forgetting was easier than you though with Jane Rizzoli.
The End.