Maura sits on the cold floor of her kitchen, staring blindly at the tortoise positioned near her feet. She doesn't bother with a glass tonight, no, she simply takes long pulls from the wine bottle. Waiting for it to make her cry. Waiting for it to make her mind foggy. Waiting for it to make her forget.
Forget how easy it was. That night at the Robber. Forget the fun. Forget the day after, laying in bed all day. Forget the feeling that Jane gave her. Still gives her. Forget everything that has happened since then. Since him.
Hoyt.
He ruined what they started and she hated him for that.
Just a few weeks after the night at the Robber, Jane was involved in a grueling and difficult case, one that went on for over a month. She thought she had a strong lead. Went down in that basement without backup.
It changed everything. Everything.
Jane withdrew, as expected. It was hard and Maura felt selfish for feeling sorry for herself; she was just so heartbroken at the loss of the closest thing she's had to friendship. The whole situation reminded her why she never got close to people (not living ones anyway). And she was heartbroken for Jane. Heartbroken for what she went through. Heartbroken for how she changed.
Maura tried to be there for Jane after the incident. She really did, she wanted so badly to be there for her and to help her, and she did. Until Jane pushed her away.
Maura had been to the hospital within minutes of the call. Frost greeted her immediately and then pointed out a horror-struck Korsak, a solemn Frankie, and a distraught Angela. Frost did his best to explain the situation, but neither Jane nor Korsak could get many words out. Maura needed to see her. Physically see and touch her to know that she was alive and here, but the doctors would not let anyone in until Jane was out of surgery.
So she waited.
And waited.
When they finally allowed visitors, she waited longer. She wanted to give Jane's family the privacy of greeting her, wanted to give Korsak a moment to apologize. Even though no one blamed him but himself. When it was finally Maura's turn, Jane had fallen asleep from all the pain meds. Maura just stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of Jane; hair scattered about the pillow, red and bruising near the upper portion of her face, and her hands. Her poor hands. Bandaged and broken. In pain.
Maura was a little disappointed that Jane wasn't awake, but at the same time, maybe this was easier. Less awkward. Maura pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. For what seemed like forever, she just sat. Stared. Hesitant. When she finally worked up the nerve, she reached out her right hand and gently held the tips of Jane's fingers in her own, doing her best not to cause any pain. She stayed that way for a while.
A long while.
She had fallen asleep, hand in hand with Jane, head rested on the side of the bed. She would most definitely be sore when she woke up.
A nurse came in to tell Maura that visiting hours were over, but the scene was too precious.
And since Maura was a doctor, she let it slide.
A few hours later, Jane awoke in a panic. After a moment of putting the pieces together, she calmed. New she was safe, no longer in that basement. She looked down at her hands. At a heap of hair, "Maura?" she said, her voice sounding soft and unfamiliar. Clearing her throat she tried again, "Maur?"
Maura jumped, "Jane!" pulling her hand away quickly. "Jane," she said again, calmer this time, 'Hi." She resisted the urge to reach out and touch her cheek.
Jane smiled.
"What are you doing here?" she asked as if it was absurd for Maura to be there.
"I—You-Well, I was here to see you earlier, you know, right after- but your family wanted to see your first and when it was my turn to come in, you were asleep and I just—I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I hope that's alright."
"Of course it is, Maura."
Maura smiled.
"You didn't need to stop you know."
"Stop what?" Maura asked, looking perplexed.
"Holding my fingers. You didn't need to stop." Maura smiled, hesitated, and reached out to hold them again.
There was so much Maura wanted to say. So many questions she wanted to ask. What did he do to you? She almost blurted out. She knew the path Jane was about to take, with hand injuries like that, with the memories flooding back in increments; it was going to be painful. Jane was going to be both physically and emotionally in pain.
But for now, Maura kept her mouth shut and held on until Jane drifted back to sleep.
For the next week, Maura was at Jane's side as often she could. She stopped by in the morning before work, rushed over on her lunch breaks, and headed to the hospital as soon as an autopsy or labwork was complete. Some nights she even spent the night. It was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as what Jane was going through. Maura could cope with the sore neck. She could cope for Jane.
On one particular night, after Jane had fallen asleep, Maura had scooted her sofa chair up close, positioned herself in small curl, head rested on the side of the bed, arm stretched out with her hand on Jane's. The usual. But instead of awaking to the gentle pat of a nurse on the shoulder, Maura awoke to Jane screaming.
Nightmares. Flashbacks. It had begun. Maura had been expecting it, but nothing could have prepared her for the look on Jane's face.
The pain.
"Jane," she said softly.
"Stop! Stop, please! Please!"
"Jane," Maura pulled her blanket off and sat on her knees, reaching up to cup Jane's cheek, "Jane, honey, it's okay. It's okay." Jane's face seemed to relax, but she still hadn't wakened completely. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here. It's me, it's Maura." At that, Jane's eyes fluttered opened, "Maur?"
"I'm right here Jane," Maura smiled as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Jane's ear, "You're safe, Jane. You're safe. I'm right here," she continued to stroke Jane's cheek.
"Maura?"
"Yes Jane?"
"Will you lay with me?"
"I—I, there's not really room, Jane."
"Please I—I just, I, I need... I need someone to hold me... Please?" the defeat in her voice broke Maura's heart.
Maura didn't need to respond; she simply shifted her body and snuggled up next to Jane, trying her best to not to hurt her, pulling the blanket up and around them.
"I'm here Jane. I'll always be here," she said as she placed her hand on Jane's heart, feeling the rapid beats.
If only Jane had let her.
After the week in the hospital, once the pain meds stopped flowing through her veins, Jane realized how broken she was. How weak. How needy. How vulnerable. That was not Jane Rizzoli.
She withdrew. She pushed.
She pushed hard.
Which is why Maura now sat on her kitchen floor with an empty wine bottle. Mentally preparing herself for tomorrow morning. Jane's first day back to work.
Five months. Five months of not seeing Jane. Five months for Jane to recover, go through physical therapy, regular therapy, new trainings, etc. Five months of loneliness. Five months since that week in the hospital. Five months of hurt. Five months of anger. Five months of reaching for another bottle.