Jane spent the first two weeks of her imprisonment fighting Dominic Bianchi tooth and nail. When Frost finally hacked the feed to the bakery, it revealed the detective, bound and bruised, yes, but snarling and fighting too. Maura remembers the moment when Jane looked, unknowingly, into the camera, and her eyes were bright and fierce.
Furious.
Alive.
They'd raided the bakery that same day, confident that they would have Jane home and Bianchi in cuffs before nightfall.
It was the first time they'd underestimated him as their adversary. If his former psychiatrist had still been alive, he would have told them about the high IQ, the technological genius, and the sharp, conniving mind that lay behind his open face and baffled smile.
But because Dr. Parker was dead, Bianchi was three steps ahead of them, and as they raided the bakery, he was cutting Jane free of her restraints and lifting her, limp as a ragdoll, into the back of his brand new Nissan.
It was almost another week before Frost found the feed again. This time, Maura had the measure of Dominic enough to wonder if he'd meant them to see it. But that thought was washed away by the sight of her girlfriend.
He had changed her clothes.
He had changed much more than that.
…
…
Jane insists that Maura take her room. Maura is ready to put up a fight, but something in Jane's expression makes her give in. It isn't until she's hanging a dress on one of the free hangers Jane showed her that she realizes what Jane has done.
She has put herself between Maura and Isla.
Indeed, when she emerges from the bedroom, and pads through the living room to the bathroom, Jane is standing by Isla's bedroom door. She returns the smile that Maura offers, but it falters and does not entirely set on her face.
"I won't be a minute," Maura says because the silence is an uncomfortable one.
"Take your time," Jane says automatically.
If Maura lingers at all in the bathroom, it is because she doesn't want to step back into the living room and see Jane's expression as she passes back to the bedroom.
But when she emerges, Jane has already stretched out on the couch. Maura is almost back into the bedroom when Jane calls out.
"Night, Maura."
Maura turns. "Good night, Jane."
…
It is past midnight when the noise from the living room wakes her. She sits up, and she can see the light from the living room leaking under her door.
Jane is awake, has possibly been awake for the last two hours.
The noise comes again, a sound like a kitten crying. It pushes Maura out of bed and to the door without thinking.
Jane is standing between the couch and the bedroom, staring at the floor.
She makes the noise again, pushed from the back of her throat, and Maura's chest aches at the sound.
"Jane."
Her voice makes the brunette jump. She stares at Maura with the glassy, half dissociated stare that she'd had back in Boston.
"I-I had a routine," she says lowly. "I...it's hard. I-I'm not used to sleeping without it. I-I chose it because it helps."
Maura nods. "Okay," she says. "Okay. You can still-"
"He can't make me do anything I don't want to do," she says like Maura isn't there. "He's dead. I'm the one controlling my life."
A mantra. Maura takes a step forward. "Yes," she says. "You are. Jane, If you have to do your nightly routine, please don't let me stop-"
"You couldn't stop me," Jane says. She looks at Maura, wide-eyed, unrecognizing. "I could do it even if you told me not to. I could."
"Yes," Maura agrees right away. "Certainly."
"I have control," Jane says to herself. She lifts her hands to her face like she wants to study them, and Maura realizes with a jolt that she is looking for bruises. She is checking to see if she's been tied down recently.
"Jane! We could switch," Maura says without thinking. "I'll take the couch and you-"
"No!" Jane takes three menacing steps towards her before catching herself.
"No," she says again. "Don't touch her."
Maura takes a step backward, hoping it will convey that she means no harm. "I won't, honey," she says.
It is the wrong endearment. Maura knows it is the wrong endearment the moment it leaves her mouth. The panic of the moment, the half-lucid state of the woman before her, these things are muddling her thoughts. She is too scared to do the right thing.
Jane's face has contorted into a rage that looks painful.
"Don't," she growls.
Maura nods vigorously, wishing there was a way she could make herself smaller and less imposing.
"I can go," she says. Glancing up at Jane to see how this idea is received. "I could go to- ah - a hotel. Or I-"
"No," Jane cuts her off, sounding strained. "We have to stay here."
The end of this sentence breaks and Maura presses her hands to her thighs to keep from reaching out.
"Okay," she says gently. "Okay. We'll stay."
"We have to stay here," Jane says again, and when she looks up at Maura, her eyes are frightened.
Maura thinks she looks like some of the patients she's seen practice immersion therapy; the rational brain fighting for control while the amygdala screams.
The amygdala is winning. Maura cannot imagine the nightmare world Jane finds herself in.
"He makes me," she says now, close to tears. "I have to."
She stumbles backward, collapsing onto the couch, and Maura takes a step forward, her hands coming to her chest.
"No, darling," she says softly. "No. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. He's gone."
Jane blinks at her, a flash of clarity.
"Darling," she murmurs.
"That's right," Maura says, hoping she doesn't sound too eager. She moves forward again and then lowers herself to her knees on the couch. Slowly, slowly.
"Who calls you darling, Jane?" she asks.
Jane wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin in the dip between her knees. She makes a soft, whimpering sound just before she answers.
"Maura," she whispers.
"Me," Maura says. She is starting to cry, but she doesn't want to move her hands to wipe her tears. "That's me, my love, and I would never hurt you. I would never hurt Isla. I would never make you."
Another tear drips down Jane's cheek. Maura's hands on her chest twitch, just the tiniest bit.
"I have to protect you," Jane says. She squeezes her knees. "Don't let him know."
"Okay," she says. "It will be our secret. Just our secret, Jane, okay?"
Her head bobs up and down, the terror recedes from her eyes.
Maura chances putting one hand on the couch cushion, flat.
"But he's not here now, lovely. He's not here. So can I?"
Jane hesitates for a long time, at war with herself. When she finally nods, the word slips from Maura's mouth without her conscious thought, and she knows that it would have happened even if Jane had said no.
"Darling," she breathes. "Lovely."
Jane buries her face in the indent of her knees. Sobs shaking her slender frame.
"Maura."
…
…
Frankie arrives at her office just as she is finishing her last bit of paperwork. She looks up at the knock on the door, and her heart sinks.
Frankie looks pale and somber.
"What is it?" she stands. "What's happened?"
Jane has been home for just over two weeks, and although Maura and Angela have agreed to a truce, she wouldn't put it past the older woman to have tried to move Jane while Maura was at work.
But Frankie surprises her. "It's Bianchi," he says, spitting the word as though it tastes bad. "He's dead."
The news makes Maura have to sit again though, God help her, the emotion that takes her legs out from under her is most definitely relief.
"How?" she asks when she can make herself speak.
"Hung himself," Frankie says, still sounding disgusted. "That damn quack who said he didn't need suicide watch anymore. That she was 'making progress,'" he snorts. "Yeah, great. So now that bastard doesn't even get what he deserves."
These last words bring Maura back to the conversation. "It also means that your sister never has to face him again. She won't have to spend days in court. She won't have to tell strangers about her ordeal."
Frankie presses his lips together, and Maura knows that he has not considered this.
Maura presses her palms flat to her desk and pushes herself to a standing position again.
"When did you get the news?"
"I have a buddy that does security over there. He called me to tell me."
Frankie does not make direct eye contact at this, and Maura has a distinct feeling that this is not the entire story.
"Frankie?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "It's nothing," he says, still not looking at her. "I just thought you'd want the news ahead of time so you could be braced for the public announcement."
Maura narrows her eyes. "Francesco Rizzoli, you have the same tell as your sister. Now look me in the eyes, and tell me the section of this story that you have omitted."
Frankie reluctantly drags his eyes up to meet the doctor's. From the inside pocket of his coat, he pulls a rumpled envelope, so full that the seal is barely able to hold it shut. The name "Jane" is scrawled across the front.
Maura's chest tightens. "What is that?" she asks, though she knows.
"I got Mac to slip it out. No one even knows it was there."
Maura fights the urge to return to her chair. "Frankie," she breathes.
"Maura. She doesn't need to know it was-"
"Give it to me."
There is no room in Maura's tone for him to disobey her. He comes just close enough to hand it to her, and his eyes scan her, as though she has changed without his noticing.
"She doesn't need it," he says quietly.
And Maura wants to tell him that last night, Jane had come into the bedroom the two of them used to share and curled up at the end of the bed.
Maura found her there when she woke up, and Jane had opened her eyes and said only.
"I missed you."
No. Maura does not want Jane to ever, ever read the letter either.
But she tucks it away in her bag, and as she's leaving the office, she puts her hand on Frankie's shoulder.
"Your sister is still in there," she says quietly. "She's still in there, Frankie, and she is who we need to consider." She gives his shoulder a squeeze.
"We'll get her back," she says. "I promise."
…
…
Maura wakes up to tapping. She opens her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, and it takes her a moment to orient herself.
New York. Midtown. Jane.
Jane.
She sits up quickly, and the tapping stops abruptly.
Isla is in the doorway of the bedroom, her knuckles inches away from the frame, and her wide eyes looking back at Maura as though she's been caught.
"Sorry," she whispers. "I'm a'pposed to knock.
Maura pushes her hair away from her face with both hands and glances at the bedside clock. It reads 7:25 AM.
She'd left Jane in a fitful, exhausted sleep only four hours ago, and when Maura looks back toward the living room, she can see a Jane shaped lump on the couch, blanket over her head.
Isla makes an impatient noise. "Mo-rah," she whispers. "Say if I can come in or not."
Maura smiles despite herself. "Yes," she says. "Of course. Come in, sweetheart."
Isla's face splits into a wide grin, and she runs through the door and launches herself up, onto the bed next to Maura.
"G'morning!" she says happily. "I'm so, so glad you're still here!"
"Me too," Maura says honestly. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," Isla says. She scoots closer. "Can I sit on your lap?"
Maura nods, not trusting her voice, and Isla wiggles under her arm and settles herself in Maura's lap.
"Me'n mommy cuddle in the morning on weekends," she says, taking Maura's necklace in her small hand to examine it. "She's got a rough morning though, so let's give her some time."
Maura blinks at this influx of information, sorting it out.
"A rough morning?"
Isla nods. "I saw her a bit ago, to show her the light? And she set the princess to ring when she should get up."
Maura replays these sentences in her head several times but is unable to glean any more information from them than the first run through.
"I don't understand," she tells the little girl, and she is met with an eye roll that takes her back in time.
It is Jane's signature expression, reserved for people who are being exceptionally dense.
Maura wants to laugh and cry at the same time.
"I'll show you," she says, starting to wiggle down to the floor.
Isla waits for Maura to push the covers back and stands up, then she runs to the closet and pulls out a pair of slippers.
"Mr. Panteek, downstairs, he keeps his apartment like a icebox," she says dramatically. "So you can wear these slippers. Not bunnies like mine, but mommy says they're warm."
Isla waits until Maura has stepped into the slippers, and then reaches for her hand.
"We're going to my room," she says, her voice dropping down to a whisper. "Be quiet, kay?"
Again, Maura can only nod.
They tiptoe past Jane, motionless on the couch, and Maura only has ten seconds to worry about how the brunette might be feeling, when Isla turns her attention to a clock sitting on the bureau just inside her bedroom door.
The clock is bright green and molded into the shape of a princess, complete with tiara and long white gloves.
"When Tiana sings her song," Isla explains, "mommy gets up."
"I see," Maura says. "She set this for you?"
Isla nods. "Yeah, this morning. When I showed her it was mornin."
Maura nods, and then, when Isla asks if she wants to have a tea party, she nods again. But she barely hears the little girl setting up the plastic cutlery. Her mind is reeling from the revelations of the past ten minutes.
This is how Jane has made it work, the two of them here. How carefully she has taught her daughter.
How horribly this would have gone if she'd returned.
"Morah?"
Maura shakes herself and looks around. Isla is facing her, holding two obscenely bright feather boas.
"I am usually pink," Isla says. "But you can wear it today if you want to. As a treat."
Maura accepts without hesitation.
…
…
The day before she sees Jane on the video feed for the last time, Maura receives a letter in the mail. She makes the mistake of gasping when it is delivered to her, and when Susie comes over to see if she is okay, she recognizes the handwriting as well and alerts Frost and Korsak.
And so Maura has to open Jane's letter in front of both detectives and two CSI techs. She is embarrassed by the way her hands shake, and by the way she is already crying before she even begins to slit the envelope.
There are three things inside the envelope. The first is the ring that Maura got Jane on their sixth month anniversary. It is the twin to Maura's, though the detective wore hers around her neck so as not to arouse suspicion.
The second thing is a glossy photo, a 5x7 print of a man and woman on their wedding day.
No.
Oh, God. No.
Maura looks at the photo again and realizes that it is of Dominic and Jane. He is wearing a suit, complete with cumberbund and cufflinks.
And Jane…
Maura closes her eyes, trying to fight the wave of nausea that hits her. It's not the wedding dress that Jane is in or the apparent way her cheekbones and collarbone protrude, that make Maura want to be sick. It's not even the hollow nature of her smile or the way her eyes stare straight ahead at nothing.
No, Maura is sickened by the blue and purple bruises that ring themselves around Jane's neck and both of her wrists.
She is sickened that Dominic is beaming at the camera, holding his prisoner tightly around the waist, and looking as though there is nothing wrong with the scene at all.
"Doctor," Korsak is tugging at the edge of the photo with a gloved hand. "Please…"
She lets it go and picks up the last item from the envelope.
It is a letter.
It's just a short, handwritten note, but Maura wants to press the paper to her mouth because that is Jane's handwriting. Jane wrote this. To her.
Dear Maura,
I'm returning your ring because I definitely never loved you. Dominic and I are happy as you can certainly most definitely see from the inclosed photo. We are very happy together. Why shouldn't we be?
Good-bye,
Jane
"She wrote it under duress, Maura," Frost tells her when the techs have taken everything away. "She doesn't mean those things. And the rope burns mean she's still fighting. She's still fighting to come home to us. To you."
But Maura wasn't crying because of the words. She was crying because of the specific parts, where Jane had pressed harder with her pen, making some letters darker than others.
She was crying because when put together, they spelled out the words, I love you.
…
…
At 8:30, the clock shaped like a princess begins to sing.
There's been trials and tribulations,
You know I've had my share
But I've climbed a mountain, and I've crossed a river, and I'm
Almost there.
I'm almost there…
Isla's face lights up at the sound, and she grins at Maura and claps her hands together before hopping up from the little table and scampering out into the living room.
It takes Maura a little longer to extricate herself from the miniature table, and when she finally makes it to the doorway between bedroom and living room, it is to see Isla doing a little dance in front of the moving blanket that is her mother.
"Mommy!" she cries gleefully as the form sits upright.
"C'mere bug," says Jane's raspy voice.
Isla climbs up onto the couch and disappears into the folds of the blanket, and for a moment, all Maura can hear is muffled giggling.
And then Jane flips the top part of the blanket back like a hood, revealing them both, cuddled together.
"Morah and I was havin' some tea."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. I sat on her lap in bed, and she's wearing your slippers."
"You gave my slippers away? Does that mean I get your bunnies?"
"Nooooo!"
"Did you ask Maura where we should go for breakfast?"
"Cowgirl!" Isla chirps. "We should take her to Cowgirl, mommy!"
"You know what I think?" Jane asks her daughter.
"Whut?"
"I think we should go to Cowgirl for breakfast."
Isla laughs. "I just said that!"
"You did?" The more Jane speaks, the more normal she sounds. Maura crosses her arms over her chest like she could hold onto the happy bubble that is expanding there.
"Mommy?"
"Yeah, bean."
"I love you."
Jane takes a second to answer. Maura sees her bend to kiss Isla's head. They do not need to ask each other for physical closeness. Maura understands that this is Jane's promise to her child. The most important, most valuable thing she can give her.
Unconditional trust.
"I love you too, Isla," Jane says. "Will you do me a favor and go grab me some socks? Since you gave away my slippers."
Isla kisses her mother's cheek and then slides off of her lap. She waves at Maura as she speeds past.
Jane turns to look at her in the silence.
"Morning," she says. Her voice is still a little raspy.
"Good morning," Maura says with a smile.
"Did you get...any sleep?" Jane looks away, guilty. "I'm so-"
Maura takes a step forward, and Jane falls silent. "I slept," she says. "You told me to leave you when you were fully out, and I did. I hope if you woke up, you were able to get back to sleep."
"You locked yourself in the bedroom," Jane says.
Maura nods. "You told me to. Did it help?"
"Yeah," Jane says. She rubs the back of her neck. "A lot. Thank you." She shifts a little. "Do you want to come...sit?"
Yes. More than anything. Maura forces herself not to run to the other end of the couch.
"I get it if you want to stay somewhere else tonight," Jane says quietly.
Maura frowns. "Do you want me to?"
"No." The answer is sure and immediate. "I don't."
Maura puts her hand, palm up, into the space between them.
"Okay," she answers. "Then I won't."