A/N: Attempt number two to make you cry, sweetie. Hopefully this one was enough. I promise fluffy, wonderful goodness is on the way with my other stories. I swear.
The only time Jane ever hated her job was when it got Maura into trouble. And this was one of those times.
They'd been walking home in the cold, arm in arm, Maura going on about her terrible date. And then they weren't walking anymore. They were being taken, dragged off to God knows where, and Jane was in panic mode. Serious, genuine panic, to a point farther than she'd ever been before. Her view was obstructed by via some form of a blindfold, and all she could do to comfort the quivering M.E. beside her was to push her arm more firmly against her, remind her she was there. But as the car slowed to a stop, they were ripped apart. Torn from each other and thrown blindly forward.
Jane felt herself being pushed into a chair, and she tried to focus, counting the hands that held her down. One two, three four, five, six. Three men gripped her tightly as her restraints were removed. And three was too many for her to fight off. They pulled her left hand from behind her back, slamming it onto what felt like a table and closing metal tightly around it until she could no longer move her wrist. The other hand they held firmly behind her back, a rope encircling it tightly. She then felt them wrap that same rope around her torso, tighter and tighter until she feared she couldn't move. When they let go, she yanked with her right arm, but the movement did nothing but tighten the rope constricting her stomach.
She heard shallow breathing near her, across from her, a slight whimper escaping from Maura. Jane bit hard into the cloth hindering her speech, wanting nothing more than to comfort the honey-blonde, to promise her they'd survive. The bag on her head was ripped off, the same time as Maura's, and their eyes locked. Their gazes were solemn. Sorry. Maura's restrained the same way as Jane, her dominant hand shackled to the table, the other tied to her body.
Jane's eyes wandered the room, trying to take in every detail possible. To her right, Maura's left, there was an opaque glass window, but other than that the room was bare. It was like the BPD interrogation rooms, but…not. Behind the honey-blonde, Jane could make out three figures, but she also felt movement behind her. Someone new.
"The game has changed, Jane. Now that you've killed my master," the man said, casually strolling from behind Jane so both women can see him.
Jane froze, stock-still, her brain trying to fill in the gaps. Hoyt. Hoyt's last apprentice.
"So. This is how I work. This," he said, indicating a revolver by shaking it lightly. "This is your lifeline. And let's call my game Russian Roulette. Granted, instead of shooting yourselves you'll be shooting each other, but I digress."
Jane yanked again at her restraints, only to wince as it tightened. Maura gave her a light kick under the table, and Jane once again looked at her, to be met with a berating glare.
"Now. There is one bullet in that gun. I'll spin the cylinder, close it, and then give it to one of you. You'll have five minutes to pull that trigger. If it doesn't go off, we'll move to round two. I'll re-spin it, give it to the other person, and once again, you'll have five minutes. I'll agree to three rounds since you both have been so cooperative."
He set the revolver between the two, a grin on his face.
"So, who wants to go first?" he asked, clapping his hands together and rubbing them excitedly.
Neither woman answered; their eyes stay locked on each other, determined in the painful silence.
"Ah, right. You can't speak," he muttered, motioning for the men to remove their gags.
Jane jerked away from the hands that appeared at her neck, squirming defiantly until the fabric fell away. Maura looked frightened, worried at Jane's fury. She wanted to tell her to calm down, keep the apprentice happy, but no words could escape her newly freed mouth.
"Again, I ask. Who wants to go first?"
The women pressed their lips together tightly, the only thing they're sure about was that they wouldn't answer.
"I was afraid of that," he said quietly.
A light flicked on, and the glass that had been opaque now displayed for them a nightmare in itself. Some of their family, lined up and restrained. Constance, Angela, and Tommy.
A pained shout ripped from Maura as she jerked against her restraints, trying to go to them.
"We feeling more compliant now? See this?" he asked, indicating a different gun. "This is their lifeline. Any time either of you refuse to shoot in a round, or your five minutes runs out, I will shoot one of them."
Jane chanced a glance at Maura. She's a wreck. An absolute wreck as her eyes raked over the people in the next room, back and forth, back and forth, tears spilling with every sweep. Jane tried to reach for her with the hand strapped to the table, but all she managed was to extend her fingers and flatten her palm to the table. It's enough, though. Maura saw the movement and her eyes flitted to Jane's hand. Slowly, she did the same, her fingertips extending just far enough to rest atop Jane's nails. Her hazel eyes shone with fear, desperation, and at the same time, Jane could see her calculating odds, looking for ways out. All Jane could do was look back sadly, careful to keep the panic out of her own eyes.
"Now I'll ask you one, final time. Who's going first?"
"Me," Jane shouted, her voice high with a fear that didn't reach her eyes as she stared right at Maura.
Maura's brow furrowed, confused as the man paused, before gently nudging the revolver to Maura's hand on the table. She was about to panic when he didn't do what Jane asked, but then she caught a smugness flash in Jane's eyes. Three rounds. Two would start with her. Jane had just manipulated the odds in Maura's favor. It made her feel incredibly relieved, seriously guilty, and heavily pressured, all at once. How did Jane expect her to shoot a gun, a loaded gun, at her twice? She wasn't sure she could.
But she really didn't have a choice as the revolver was shoved in her hand. They watched the apprentice leave and enter into the adjoining room. He strolled slowly behind their family, coming to a stop behind Constance, the gun resting casually atop her shoulder in wait.
"Time starts now," came his eerie voice.
Maura didn't say anything. She just stared down at the gun in her hand.
"Maura?"
"Hmm?"
"I can't be the reason your mother dies. I'd feel too guilty"
"Jane…" Maura breathed. "I…I don't know if I can shoot you."
"Fighting this'll just make it worse, Maur. Just do it. For me."
"Darling?"
The honey-blonde's eyes snapped up to meet her mother's.
"You don't owe me anything, dear," Constance's clear voice said. "I've done nothing to be a mother to you, and I expect you to treat me as such. A stranger."
Maura looked back at Jane, torn. But she knew the longer she waited, the more likely it was she wouldn't be able to pull the trigger, so, after wiping her mind of all thoughts, she pulled the trigger, to be met with nothing but a soft click.
Maura knew it was supposed to feel relieved, but she just felt wrong. She'd just shot a gun at her best friend. The only woman who had ever been kind to her, and she repaid her by trying to shoot her.
"Hey," Jane coaxed. "It's alright. I promise. No hard feelings."
"But…But I chose her," Maura argued weakly.
"No. I told you to shoot me. That means you did what I asked. You chose me."
The honey-blonde tried to slow her pounding heart rate, but it only seemed to want to increase with each of the passing seconds. The apprentice approached, opening the revolver and spinning the cylinder again to reset the 1 in 6 odds, closing it and placing it in Jane's restrained hand. He then, again, went back to the other room and took his place behind Angela.
Maura instantly understood Jane's assurances when the gun changed hands. Seeing the helplessness in Jane's eyes as she stared at her mother…it made her sorry. Made her feel guilty for being one of the two options in an impossible choice.
"I can't kill my mom, Maur," Jane said quietly, her head hanging in what looked like shame.
"Then don't. It's okay," Maura assured softly. "I understand."
"I don't…I don't want you to resent me."
"I can't resent you if I'm dead."
Jane gave her a glare.
"I don't want to if you don't want me to, Maur. It's your life we're gambling with here."
Maura paused, holding her breath. She wanted more than anything to be weak. To tell Jane not to shoot her. She wanted to be selfish and kill Angela. And she hated herself for it.
"Oh, this is all so stupid!" Angela yelled roughly. "Don't you dare shoot her, Jane. I forbid it!"
Confusion flitted onto Jane's face before she hid it, her features blank once again.
"Why?" she asked evenly.
"You know damn well why, Jane Rizzoli. Don't. Do. It."
"C'mon, Ma. Don't be like that!" she protested.
"It's okay, Angela," Maura finally said. "Blood is thicker than water."
Not if that water was my wife, Jane couldn't help but think.
"You don't understand, dear," Angela said gently, her eyes darting to Jane's, and Jane saw. Saw that her mother, in fact, knew. "I don't think she should, for her own well-being."
Maura's brow furrowed again, perplexed.
"I think losing her mother is much more detrimental than losing me."
But before Angela could argue back, Jane yanked the trigger. It clicked, and everyone breathed in relief that no bullet fired.
The apprentice reappeared. He gently pried the gun from Jane's stiff fingers, opening the cylinder, spinning it, then closing it again. He then carefully handed it back to Maura.
"Next up, Brother Rizzoli," he said, almost gleefully.
Maura shook her head slowly as the night came full circle.
"I can't, Jane, I…I just can't risk losing you."
"Maur. I'm begging you to. Don't let my little brother die. It's just once more."
Maura looked over teary-eyed at Tommy, to his mother crying beside him.
"They didn't do anything to deserve this," she said, defeated.
"Right. It's my job. So let me pay the price. Just take the shot."
"Jesus, Janie, just tell her!" Tommy's exasperated voice echoed in from the other room.
"Stay out of it, T. It's none of your business."
He gave a dark laugh.
"No. It wasn't my business until I got nabbed. Now it is. So what's it gonna be? Either you say it or I will."
"What's he talking about, Jane," Maura asked, her voice rising in pitch along with her increasing fear.
"Nothing, Maura—"
"Bullshit," Tommy snapped.
"Shut your trap, Tommy!" she shot back loudly.
"Last chance," he barked.
This time she had no retort. Her eyes darted frantically back and forth between Maura and Tommy, torn, and for the first time, she let her tears go. Her body shook as she tried to pull them back, but they fell none the less, until she finally locked back onto Maura. God she was still so beautiful, even behind her tearstained cheeks, behind her red eyes. She just looked so innocent, gazing back at Jane with such a pure trust, with such faith.
"I love you," Jane said quietly, her eyes falling to the revolver on the table.
"I love you, too," came the immediate reply.
Jane tried not to wince at the words, but she did.
"No. I…I'm in love with you," she murmured, the words barely audible.
So quiet that she feared Maura didn't hear them, the room falling into silence. Dead silence. But then Jane felt a tug inside her chest, her gut telling her Maura had in fact heard. She wanted to take it back, to unsay what she had just revealed. But no such thing could happen. Maybe…maybe it was the push Maura needed to pull the trigger.
Jane swallowed her fear, looking up slowly, expecting anger, hurt, shock or disgust to be in Maura's eyes. Instead, all she saw was Maura crying. Openly weeping. Her head hung, tears spilling over in constant waves.
"Maur…?" Jane mumbled hesitantly, wanting so badly to get up and hold her.
"Dammit Jane!" Maura suddenly yelled, her voice hoarse. "You cowardly, selfish, stubborn Rizzoli!"
Her voice cracked, but she barreled on. "You wait until we're about to die before you say anything?!"
Jane had no idea how to respond.
"You…that's it?"
"Yes that's it!" Maura yelled exasperatedly. "Did you not hear me when I said I loved you too?!"
The honey-blonde let out a sigh, her posture deflating as she let go of her anger. They sat there in silence for a moment, Jane trying to understand what just happened, and Maura trying to keep her composure. She sniffled, her head lifting back up.
"I don't wanna shoot you, Jane," she mumbled pathetically.
"Please," Jane whispered. "You were strong once before. You can do it again. I know you can."
Maura didn't look as sure. After a few moments, Jane craned her neck, looking behind her for the apprentice.
"I'd like a moment alone," she said to him quietly.
His brow furrowed as he considered, then shrugged and turned to go.
"No. I meant from them," she clarified, nodding her head toward her loved ones.
"What?!" came the chorus of cries from the adjoining room.
He nodded once, and with the flick of a few switches, the family disappeared into the darkness.
"Maura? Can you…can you look at me, please?"
Hazel eyes slowly lifted to meet hers, wide with fear and anxiety.
"Please. Pull the trigger."
"Jane—"
"Hear me out," she cut in lightly. "He's just a kid, Maur. He's only lived in the real world for nineteen years. Sure, he's thirty two, but that doesn't mean anything. He's barely had a chance to learn about himself, fulfill his dreams. Me? I've already lived my life, sweetie. I got my own place, got a pet. I got to work my dream job for, what is it now, four years? I've saved lives, changed people for the better. I've gotten to make the streets of Boston safer. And on top of it all, I've felt loved. I've been in love. And it was stronger than I could've even dreamed of. And I've worked alongside the love of my life for three years. I've lived more of a life than most people could dream of. Sure, I don't get a family, a white picket fence…I don't care. Just…Don't cut his life short just 'cause you wanna save mine."
Maura had started crying again, her grip tightening on the revolver.
"I don't think I could live with myself," she whispered. "I don't think I could go on, knowing I killed the woman I loved. The only person who's ever loved me."
"I know, sweetie, I know. And I'm asking so much of you, it's not fair. But it wouldn't be your fault."
"Angela's never gonna forgive me, you know."
"You don't know that. There's an eighty four percent chance that gun doesn't go off and she walks away with both her children intact."
"Eighty three point three."
Jane's eyes widened in disbelief, then a small smirk flickered onto her face.
"Really? Correcting my math in the face of death?"
Maura gave a small smile too, but it quickly faded as the apprentice flicked on the light in the other room again. He stood behind Tommy, gun to his head.
"Ten seconds."
"I'm scared, Jane."
"You did it before," Jane said calmly.
"Five seconds."
"I love you, baby," Maura breathed.
"I love you too," Jane assured warmly, closing her eyes.
Maura did the same, trying to will herself to pull the trigger.
Three.
Two.
One.
A shot fired, and Maura didn't know which gun went off. She didn't want to know. Angela's scream of horror was enough to wrench her eyes open. She felt sick, her stomach clenching dangerously tight as she saw Jane, slumped over, blood pooling from her chest. A choked sob burst from her chest, but no tears came. All she felt was a piercing disgust, and it was directed at herself. She wanted to cry, to mourn, but nothing came. Her chest hurt, her stomach turning as Angela's crying echoed in the room. Maura's eyes flicked over to the window to try and see the distraught mother, but she couldn't. Blood covered the window. From the other side. She'd pulled the trigger too late. And now both Rizzoli siblings were dead.
She felt her dinner coming up, but not before she slipped into darkness.
Next thing she knew, she woke up, harsh fluorescent lighting meeting her. Squinting into it, she tried to sit up, searing pain jolting through her arm, in her head, but she sat up the rest of the way. Only then did she notice the other life. Frankie stood in the doorway, his expression blank, unreadable. She couldn't bring herself to look at him all the way, much less make eye contact. All she could do was wait for the onslaught, wait to be yelled at, cursed at. Correction. She wanted to be yelled at, told off for the horror she did. But no such outburst came. He stood and watched the broken woman fall apart in her own mind.
They stayed like that, in silence, Maura staring hard at the opposing wall until she could no longer see it through her tears. She blinked and the tears fell, but that was the last of the silence as a forceful sob shook her whole body, her shoulders slumping as she let go. Through her noisy crying, she didn't hear Frankie approach, but his arms were around her, holding her tightly. Even in the comfort of his embrace, Maura couldn't seem to shake the black depression seeping through her very being, growing stronger with every passing second. Her sobbing escalated until she was gasping for air, broken sobs sounding more like desperate coughs. She was sure her breaths would never stop. Sure that the painful tightness in her chest would never fade. Jane was her only cure. And Jane was gone. She sniffled to try and stop, but the air that reached her lungs only succeeded in releasing as another wail.
And Frankie never let go. Not until Angela pried him from Maura in with angry power.
"Get away from her," Maura heard over her pounding heartbeat.
She tasted blood. She tasted blood in the thickness lodged in the back of her throat as her crying continued. She didn't hear anything else Angela said, her eyes focused on the bulge her knees made under the covers.
A gentle hand touched her arm and she jolted, the heart monitor beeping faster. It was the doctor. He asked her to stay for monitoring, but she only shook her head, too tired to speak. He tried to argue, but she just shook her head, slowly, her shoulders hunched, her gaze averted until she heard him leave. Before long he was back, and she signed the AMA form. When he had left again, she swung her feet slowly off the bed, sliding carefully to her feet. The dressing process was even slower as she watched every inch of skin disappear. She dragged one leg of her pants up to her hips, then gently pulled up the other, her fingers fumbling to close the button. Her eyes weren't even fully open as she pulled her shirt over her head, her heart heavy as she shuffled slowly from the room.
Every inch of hallway felt like her own personal hell as she tried to get away. To anywhere but there. She hailed a taxi half-heartedly, falling into the backseat. She didn't even know what address she gave the driver, but he started off. It really couldn't matter less.
The car pulled to a stop, and Maura fumbled to try and get out his bill, but her fingers would not work. Frustration welled up in her, and she simply threw all the cash in her wallet at him, dragging herself from the car and walking blindly up the stairs. Five minutes of trying to force her trembling hand to insert the key, and Maura's nerves were shot. She finally managed to fit it into the lock and entered, Jo Friday barking excitedly as she jumped at Maura's heels. The honey-blonde bent over and gave the dog her usual pets, and then the loyal Jo bounded expectantly toward the door, sitting down, her ears perked as she waited for her second owner.
Maura felt her throat closing, staring at the slowly withering dog. Her brown eyes darted back to Maura, as if questioning, and all Maura could see was Jane's worried, loving eyes shining back at her. Her knees give out, burning tears running down her face as she lay on the floor, still. Her body did not shake. Every muscles in her body was clenched, fighting against the grow dread and loneliness threatening to envelope her. Jo instantly scurried over, licking away the salty tears as Maura's crying continued. And although Maura knew Jo only did it for the taste, she still felt loved. She felt the last remnants of protective Jane keeping her safe through that stupid dog. But it would never be enough.
Gathering her composure, she struggled to her feet, her body on autopilot as she moved to the bedroom. She stripped, finding Jane's sweats from the other night still lying on the floor. She put them on and walked to the gun safe. She stared at the numbers for a long time, not really think about it, just…afraid if she was right. Her finger lifted slowly, punching each number and pausing. When it beeped, her stomach nearly dropped out, and her heart caught in her throat. Her birthday. Jane had used Maura's birthday. Her lip quivered as she stared at the gun inside.
Her shaking hand reached inside, and she crawled onto her side of the bed. She set the gun on Jane's side, reaching blindly for her pad and pen on the nightstand. She scrawled slowly, deliberately, and, when satisfied, she set both items back on the night table. She rolled over, taking a pillow and hugging it tightly, the sweatshirt collar bunching up and covering her mouth and nose. She took in a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled Jane's scent. One of her hands searched for the gun, fumbling to get it in place. Another deep breath in, and it was as if Jane was right there with her. It was as if Jane was laying two feet from her, she just couldn't see her because her eyes were closed. And that's exactly how she wanted to go out.
Korsak held the note one of the lab techs had handed him. He couldn't go in there. He couldn't see Maura like that. But as he read the words, he was struggling to focus as his own composure started to break.
Jane told me once that she left Jo Friday to me in her will. I'm not entirely sure if it was a joke or if she was serious, but in any case, if Jo is mine, I want Frankie to have her. She loves him already anyway. I don't have anything else of value to me, but I do leave all of it to the Rizzolis. The house is paid off, if you want it. But I hardly expect you to stay in the house of a woman whom you despise. You can still sell it, get the money.
Don't think that this was a stab back at you, Angela. Quite the contrary. Your anger helped. It made things less confusing, and I do not wish that you resent me for the action of killing myself. What I do hope, though, is that you never do forgive me for killing your children, Angela. Because I wouldn't deserve it. If I can't forgive myself, I certainly can't expect you to. I'm not looking for pity. I don't deserve that either. Jane was strong. If I could have been half the woman she was, I could've been decisive. I could've stuck with my decision. And although I'm not looking for forgiveness, know that I am sorry. I'm not sorry just because I loved Jane. I'm sorry for what I've taken from you. Frankie, I took away the two people you could talk to, no matter what in the world happened. I took away the two people who understood you most. And Angela, I'm sorry that I took away the family you could've had. I'm sorry you won't have flocks of grandchildren running around. I'm sorry you didn't get to see your son redeem himself from the small mistake he made. I'm sorry you won't get to see what a wonderful mother Jane would've been. She got that from you, you know. That fiery protectiveness. In all honesty, I'm not sure what this note was supposed to accomplish. It's not like either of you care about me enough to read it.
You know, it's funny. I worked with death so much. I thrived with it, because I could speak for the dead. I wasn't speaking for them. I now know exactly what a dead person would say, because that's what I am right now. The living dead. I feel…hollow. Worthless. And I understand now that the dead don't care who killed them. They care that their families understood how much they loved them. They care that everyone else who was in their life was safe.
I hope there are other, better things you remember me for, but if this is all you remember, there's not much I can do about it. But I do ask that you pray for me. In these final minutes I find myself terrified of the unknown on the other side of this life. But anything is better than the life I would've lived.
One final thing you should know. I loved Jane with every fiber of my being and I did everything in my power to make her feel it. I held her hand as often as I could, held her close when no one else was around. She didn't live in this world and not feel loved. Without being in a loving relationship. And I'm sorry I took her away from the world. Anyone and everyone who ever met Jane was better for it, and I am truly sorry that no one else will get to have that experience anymore. I'm…I'm just…sorry.
And although I won't be around to see it, I hope that Korsak and Frost can find who did this. It was mostly me though. Jane was wrong about that. It was, in fact, my fault.