Havens

Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles, including the book and the TNT show; Jane Rizzoli belongs to Tess Gerritsen and Angie Harmon, and Maura Isles belongs to Tess Gerritsen and Sasha Alexander. The plot for this story is my own, but that is all I could or would stake claim to. Leave feedback if you wish; these girls are delectable, and my muse would appreciate your affirmation!

Synopsis: Well now, I didn't expect to write this, but here it is nonetheless. Post 3x01, a glimpse at life at the Isles guesthouse as Patty Doyle is taken from the hospital to prison. Mama Rizzoli and Constance share lemonade and a perspective, while Jane and Maura try to find a way back to one another. An attempt at some character work. One-shot.

"She's very good at not crying, isn't she?" At the counter in Maura's guest house, Angela let her hands find their patterns in the dough before her, years of practice making the comment seem like offhand conversation. Sitting in a tall, backed chair across the counter, Constance smiled wistfully as she gazed out of the window.

"Yes, she is." Maura was working in the small yard between the main part of the house and their current residence, dressed in an older blouse and skinny jeans under a pair of black leather boots. Patrick Doyle was being released from the hospital that day, moved by armored escort to a prison facility to await trial, and Maura had thrown herself into "imperative" yard work for the last few hours. The two mothers had ensconced themselves in the kitchen without consciously planning to keep watch, instinct leading them to the large windows and close proximity to the yard though they knew Maura would never want or accept help today. "I think we might have taught her that."

Constance saw her daughter pause as a neighborhood church announced the hour as one o'clock in the afternoon, and the blonde's face seemed to crease into sadness before hardening once more. Maura swiped at one of her eyes and returned her attention to the garden below her, grabbing a small, metal rake and digging at the soil with a vengeance.

Angela glanced up at the older woman she had come to call her friend. "You taught her a lotta good things. That's why she's such a good girl." Constance shifted her gaze to Angela and smiled briefly.

"She is a good girl." The gaze returned to the window. "But I'm not sure I had much to do with that." The Rizzoli matriarch scoffed.

"Are you kidding me? You shoulda seen her the first time you came to Boston to visit. She had all of these things she wanted to cook for you, and she was so excited to show you her home. She adores you." Angela was twisting the dough before her into an intricate rope, and Constance watched her work with admiration.

"Thank you, Angela." Down the street, a car alarm beeped twice in quick succession, as if someone were locking their vehicle. Maura didn't flinch at the noise, caught in her own mind as she knelt at the garden's edge. "She's very…" Constance paused, searching for the words. "Very hard. Very… solitary. I wish I had seen that in her long ago."

"I know whatcha mean," Angela returned, serious for once. "My Janie's like that, too. Tough. Too tough, I think. Like she has the whole world to answer to."

"Exactly." Constance shifted slowly in her seat, mindful of her still healing body. "That is my fault, I think. I was just never very good at—" Constance gestured with her arms, spreading them before her and pulling something into her, "holding her. Loving her, maybe." Angela slid the pan into the oven and stripped off her apron before retrieving two glasses for lemonade. Settling beside Constance at the counter on another tall chair, the elder Rizzoli pushed one of the glasses towards Maura's mother.

"Doctor Phil says it's not healthy to dwell on past choices when future choices can make positive change." Clicking finished nails against the side of her own glass, Angela chuckled ruefully. "Sometimes I think maybe I've been too hard on my Janie. But what can I do about that now?" Constance nodded her head and chuckled, too.

"I am beginning to understand your fascination with grandchildren, Angela. I wonder sometimes if I could be better than I was if I had another chance, you know?"

"Don't let my daughter hear you say that or I'll be in big trouble." Both women laughed lightly. "But I know what you mean. I hope my grandkids will let me hug them. Our kids sure won't."

"Maura's definitely not a hugger," Constance agreed, taking a large swallow of her lemonade. "This is very good Angela. What did you use to sweeten the—" Constance paused as Angela straightened, her gaze fixed out the window. Shifting back to find her daughter in the yard once more, Constance found Jane slowing making her way through the side gate and carefully approaching Maura.

The blonde had stopped digging in the soil at her knees, but didn't look up as the tall detective, still dressed in her dress pants and blazer but sans gun or badge, approached. Both mothers were silent as they watched the scene unfold, hoping against hope that this might be another step back to the easy friendship their daughters had once shared. A movement of the glossy curls tumbling down Maura's back indicated that she had spoken, though they couldn't hear the conversation at all. Jane nodded, then spoke.

Maura's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly at Jane's words, but then she nodded and resumed her digging. After placing the last of the flowers in the plastic bed beside her into the ground, she pushed herself gracefully into a standing position and moved away from the detective. Her movements, obvious to all three of her observers, were forced and tense, though she kept her face clear of emotion. Angela watched Jane say Maura's name once and take a step towards the retreating woman, then stop. Maura's face seemed to crumple in on itself, and this time she couldn't wrestle the mask back into place as easily. Yet, turned towards the back of the yard and the guest house where both mothers were sitting, her face was hidden away from her best friend.

"Oh, Jane. Don't stop now. Trust your gut, baby." Angela was almost entirely unaware that she'd spoken aloud, but Constance nodded in agreement.

"Someone needs to get to that girl, and Jane's certainly got a better chance than anyone else." Constance took another sip of her lemonade only to find herself finishing the glass. Outside, Maura moved to place the rake and gardening gloves into a small tool shed, then leaned, just momentarily, against the aged wood, try desperately to keep the tears at bay. Jane, who had watched her best friend cross the yard, saw the pause and immediately moved back into action. Long strides took her to Maura's side, and she wrapped long arms around the blonds shoulders and waist, pulling her bodily against her own strong frame. Maura fought the embrace, persisting against the comfort even as her eyes looked skywards in the effort to stem tears, but Jane was stubborn. She held on, readjusting her hold so that Maura's smaller body seemed to become folded into Jane's, engulfed by heat and smell and planes of softness which were more recognizable to Maura than anyone she's ever known. In an instant, a desperation replaced the fight in Maura and she pushed her hands out from between them to grab Jane's waist, hands clutching into whatever wrinkles in Jane's blazer they could find.

Jane held them fast even as Maura's body trembled and shook with the force of sobs Angela and Constance could just hear through the sliver of opening at the top of each window, and her face was buried in Maura's curls, pressed firmly against the side of the shorter woman's head. They held one another, helpless, desperate, and clutching, as they fell apart at the seams and then began to put each other back together. Inside the kitchen, the elder generation were transfixed, almost not daring to breathe.

"Oh, Janie…" Angela's whisper was plaintive and heartbroken, but also hopeful. As Maura's sobs lessened and she began to pull away, Jane reached up and held her best friend's face in both of her hands. No words were spoken between the two friends, but in the moments that passed, as Maura's body occasionally shook with a tremor left over from crying, something between them healed and moved back into place. Jane stepped forward into Maura once more and pressed her lips to the blonde's forehead, leaving them there as she wrapped her arms around diminutive shoulders once more. Maura's eyes flickered closed, and she returned the embrace, this time more gently, had arms coming around to encircle a trim waist.

"Well," Constance began, slowly sliding her tense body off of the stool to refill her lemonade. "I guess it would be more correct to say that Maura is only a hugger with some people."

"Yeah," Angela agreed, unable to break her gaze from the pair standing quietly together outside. "Janie's not squirming away now, that's for sure."

"I would say not," Constance returned, grinning as she poured lemonade into Angela's empty glass. The two women exchanged a glance full of smiles and understanding, and the Constance turned to replace the jug in the fridge. "I would say not."

The End.

Thank you for reading. I really enjoyed the season premier, and I think that it was very true to who these women are. I was glad to see Janet Tamaro and Sasha Alexander take Maura down the stronger path as many ff authors (myself included, unfortunately) have been falling into the character traps of strong-Jane and emotional-Maura, when we've seen them be the exact opposite. This stemmed from my realizations and new understandings about how each of these characters examines the world around them. Thanks for coming along for the ride. :D