The DHS Study (Part 7)
A/N: You knew this was coming, guys.
xxx
CHAPTER VII
They wake up in a tangle of limbs.
Maura blinks, trying to arouse herself from a deep, restful sleep. It has been a while since she slept this soundly. She reaches up to rub her eyes. That is when she notices that Jane's long arms are wrapped around her body, and she remembers the where and why of this morning. Jane. The sofa. An interminable hug, slightly wandering hands and them falling asleep in each other's arms.
Jane's right arm is encircling her back and waist. Maura is lying on her left side, her back against the sofa and her front pressed against Jane's side, her breasts slightly crushed against Jane's chest and arm.
She is lying half on top of Jane. Her leg is sprawled over both of Jane's, pinning her to the sofa, her centre pressing against Jane's thigh.
It should be uncomfortable, but it is not.
It is really not.
In fact, it is so far from uncomfortable, that Maura hesitates for a moment, unsure if she should proceed. This, she knows, is too far away from unwanted, too far away from clinical. But she cannot stop. Not now.
She moves her hand slowly over Jane's stomach, reaching lower for a second, letting her fingers caress a protruding hip bone, and then, travel up, over Jane's ribs, murmuring softly to herself as she names each delicate bone, her fingers climbing dangerously high on Jane's chest.
"Maura."
"Hmm?" Maura mumbles, her face pressing into Jane's neck, her eyelashes tickling the sensitive skin of her throat, her mouth coming to rest against her pulse point. Maura feels the rush of blood, the jump in Jane's pulse as her lips brush the heated skin.
"I need to get up," Jane says thickly as she traps Maura's hand under hers, holding it pressed against the underside of her breast, stopping it from moving any higher.
Maura pushes slightly against Jane's chest, rising on her elbow, coming to rest almost completely on top of Jane. Her breasts rest heavily on Jane's own chest and Jane can feel herself responding, her body catching fire, her nipples hardening, reacting to the feel of Maura's breasts against hers. Maura rubs her chest slowly over Jane's, and Jane feels her aroused nipples chaffing against the rough fabric of her t-shirt.
As she pivots on her hip, Maura shifts her weight on the sofa, her leg sliding between Jane's, pressing firmly against her centre. For a moment, Maura thinks she can feel Jane through their clothing, the heat of her, maybe even the wetness.
"Maura." Jane repeats, and this time, her voice is lower, something between a gasp and a prayer.
Jane clears her throat and speaks before she does something stupid, like rock her hips against Maura's thigh, or reach around and grab Maura, push her more firmly into her body. She concentrates on not arching her body, on not pushing Maura's hand higher, over her breast, or even worse, lower, down her body.
"You need to let me up, sweetie."
It is something she almost never calls Maura.
Sweetie.
Love.
Maura.
Maura.
Maura is all those things, and more. She is Maura. Just her name is enough to make Jane smile. The sound of her ridiculously high heels clicking on the floor is the soundtrack to Jane's life. All the music she has ever wanted to hear. And Maura is on top of Jane, pressing where Jane needs pressure, and shifting and rolling her hips and Oh my god Maura Jane thinks as she arches into the touch, hips seeking. Finding.
"Please," Jane almost croaks. Voice low, pleading.
She does not know what she is asking. If she wants Maura to press on, or to let up.
A deep flush of arousal travels over her body, making her quiver in Maura's arms. A pulsing heat coils at the base of her spine, threatening to bring her over the edge if Maura as much as rocks against her once more. Jane spreads her legs without conscious thought; inviting Maura's touch, the pressure of Maura's thigh between her legs bringing pain and relief in equal measures.
It is too quick, too sudden, this awakening of the body, of the mind.
This pulsing.
This heat.
Maura regards Jane silently.
She is torn between what she wants to do and what she needs to do.
She takes a tremulous breath and moves her leg over Jane's side and sits up, straddling Jane but supporting her weight on her own legs.
She reaches down to move Jane's hair out of the way, slowly caressing Jane's cheeks, her forehead, her neck. One of her hands gets tangled in Jane's thick, dark hair. She takes on Jane's dishevelled state, the quick rise of her chest as she breathes, the trembling.
There is fear in Jane's eyes, but also desire, and tenderness, and acceptance.
It is too much for Maura.
"Good morning, Jane." She breathes as she reaches down and kisses Jane's cheek. She lingers, her face against Jane's. Her cheek rubbing Jane's for a moment longer before she kisses the corner of her mouth, her nose, and finally leans back to look at Jane in the eye.
Jane blinks. A slow smile spreading. "Did you just kiss my nose?"
"I did," Maura smiles. "I'll let you get up."
"It looks like it is going to be a very bright day," Maura says as she walks towards the bedroom. "We could go for lunch some place nice, maybe close to the-,"
Jane cannot hear the rest, Maura's voice becoming muffled as she moves into the bedroom.
She rubs the side of her nose, where Maura just kissed her, and tries to relax her still trembling limbs.
xxx
It is the start of, easily, the best week in Jane's life.
She sees very little of Maura, but it does not matter. She is still lying on that sofa, trapped under Maura.
The thing with Jane is, she cannot address any of it out in the open. Not really. She would like to ask Maura about what happened and what it means, but she cannot. She rolls her eyes at herself, not without bitterness because, sure, Jane Rizzoli, brave amongst the brave, can take a bullet through her stomach for those she loves, but she is chicken shit when it comes to risking her heart.
She just hopes Maura continues to take the lead, because finally, finally, she feels ready to follow.
She knows that has been her problem all along: her refusal to open herself to Maura's advances. She can recall over a dozen times when Maura had opened the door to more, when Jane had had a choice and how, every single time, she had chosen the easy way out. How she had made jokes and refused to understand what Maura really meant. How she had dismissed it, shrugged it off. How those occasions had come progressively less often as the years went by, until in that last year, before marrying Casey, she felt like she had exhausted all her chances at happiness.
She had been so obtuse. So frightened of finding out what Maura may mean, what she may want and need.
But of course, that is a lie.
What had really held her back then had been the fear of what she herself needed. The fear of acknowledging it, and then, maybe never having it.
Jane knows, in her heart, that only the bravest of people dare to dream.
She had never dared.
But this time, she is ready.
More that ready.
Almost desperate.
The work week flies by. It is a busy week, with a husband murdering his wife in a terrible case of home abuse, and a 16 year old boy dying in a gang-related crime. It is on Thursday when they find the first real piece of evidence that will help them break Matthew Parr's case.
"We found them in the ice, just like you said," Maura opens a fridge and shows her a block of ice. Inside it, Jane can see a pair of green glasses. "The tip of one of the temple covers is broken. That is the bit we had before," she points at the plastic bit that is lying next to the ice.
"Temple what?" Jane asks. "You mean the arms?"
"Precisely," she nods. "We have calculated the volumetric mass density of the glasses, taking into account the void density of the ice surrounding them, and it is unexpectedly high."
"In non-google speak?"
"The glasses are very heavy."
"Well, that's because they are encased in five pounds of ice, Maura." Jane rolls her eyes. "Why don't you take them out?"
"Given the volume and temperature of the ice, and the density of water particulates, we can estimate the weight of the water separate from the weight of the glasses, but we must first-,"
"Also, how did you find them?" Jane interrupts, "and where?"
Maura moves to the side, checking some notes. "These notes were taken by Senior Criminalist Chang. She was at the scene when they found them. According to this, the glasses were over 10 feet away from the body, at the edge of our initial scene."
Maura moves back towards Jane, leaning slightly against her as she bends forward to look at the ice more closely.
"We have not yet removed them from the ice as there could be fingerprints on the glass. I must research into how to defrost them carefully so that no evidence is lost." Maura explains. "If someone other than Matthew touched the glasses, there is a very high likelihood that they left prints."
"Ok, that makes sense."
Jane also bends over to examine the ice. She is shoulder to shoulder with Maura and enjoying their closeness immensely. Then, she notices.
"Maura, they're folded."
Maura only nods.
"That can only mean that...," Jane says and waits for Maura to finish her sentence.
But Maura Isles does not guess. She does not put the story together. That is Jane's job. She only gives her the pieces. Maura tilts her head, and gives Jane a smile as she crosses her arms over her chest. The move pushes her breasts up. She notices Jane's gaze moving over her generous cleavage before returning to look at her eyes.
Maura lifts an eyebrow at Jane.
Jane blinks and smiles self-consciously. "It means someone took the glasses, folded them and threw them into the water."
"I can not conclusively say that, but it is indeed unlikely that Matthew himself would toss the glasses into the water."
Jane nods. "It was a murder." She smiles. "I'm going to tell Korsak."
She looks at the block of ice and points, "this is great, Maura." Then, softly. "Thank you."
xxx
They agree to go for lunch together on Friday. Jane is slightly late and Maura finds her engrossed in some paperwork. Jane has spent all morning at the pond, with Korsak. They had quickly figured out that a grown man, like Childs, could easily throw the glasses further into the water than just a few feet away. There is just something that does not add up.
Jane is sitting at her desk, pondering over all the clues, when Maura joins her.
"Good morning, Jane." Maura says. "Are you ready to go?"
"Sure," Jane says, standing up and reaching for her jacket.
"Great," Maura says with enthusiasm and hands Jane a wrapped up box. "I have a present for you."
"What's the occasion?" Jane asks with a smile as she tears at the wrapping.
Maura just shrugs as she watches Jane's eyes widen comically, her eyebrows first lifting almost all the way into her hairline and then, drawing down, creating a deep line between them.
Jane is speechless for a minute, turning the box over in her hands. "Ok," she says as she blushes, "a Form-2 JimmyJane... vibrator."
"It is very discrete," Maura nods, "and pink." As if that was somehow important.
She points with an immaculately manicured finger. "I thought the name added a nice touch, don't you think?" she laughs in delight at Jane's obvious embarrassment.
"Maura," Jane whines.
Maura takes Jane's hand. "Jane, you have been tired and frustrated these last few weeks. I know you don't like to talk about these things, but this could help," she speaks softly, as if to a child. She moves closer, stepping into Jane's space, and if this was not Maura, Jane would push her away, but it is Maura and she can stand as close as she wants. "I can imagine, with your hands, the reach and mobility required to take care of such things on your own may be painful."
Trust Maura to be sensitive and terribly embarrassing all at once.
Jane wants to cry, and laugh, and just hide under the table, really.
It blows her mind that Maura is thoughtful enough to think about how her injuries may affect her even in this.
She is wrong anyway. Jane blushes even more as she recalls exactly how easily she had been 'taking care of things' this past week, thinking about Maura pressing her against the sofa.
Not that Jane would ever explain that to Maura.
Maura takes Jane's silence as a good omen. She takes the box from Jane's hand and unpacks it, separating the base from the actual vibrator. It fits easily in the palm of her hand. She turns it on and it makes a soft humming noise. "Hmm, that's nice," she breathes.
"Maura!" Jane whispers loudly, as she takes it from Maura and turns it off, frantically looking around. Fortunately, there is nobody else around.
"It says in here that it is waterproof," Maura explains as she reads the manual. "It is fully charged, and the batteries should be good for at least two and a half hours of use." She informs a blinking Jane. Then, she turns the booklet sideways. "I am sure you can figure out what goes where, but there are some very informational pictures here if you wish to-,"
Jane snaps the booklet out of Maura's hands. "Give me that."
Maura puts both hands on her hips as she regards Jane with a smile. Jane thinks she hears her mutter the word prude but she is resolutely ignoring Maura. She drops everything on her desk as if afraid it would jump at her, and then, tries to rub the red out of her cheeks.
She looks at Maura when she feels a bit calmer. Maura can see it in Jane's eyes. That mix of amusement and tenderness that is reserved for her alone, and she feels herself blushing with the pleasure of it.
"Ok," Jane finally says. "Fine." She waves her hands. "Hit me with it. Tell me what I've done. I'm sure you are right and I'm wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"Are you getting back at me for something?"
Maura blinks in confusion.
"You're just trying to embarrass me to death, right?" Jane frowns. "Is this something you read about in one of your Journals, Maura? Or was it in one of your Cosmo magazines? I know, 'Revenge by ridicule?' or, 'How to make your conservative friend blush until her head explodes'?"
Maura just tilts her head to the side, as if trying to ascertain whether Jane is serious. "I only read Cosmopolitan for ethnological research."
"Sure you do." Jane rolls her eyes at her. "You know that it isn't actually possible to die of embarrassment, right? It's just a saying," she adds.
"Idiomatic expressions often have their origin in common knowledge and historical events, Jane. I find quite a few of them fascinating, more-so even than the etymologies of individual words."
Jane gives Maura a smile. "Whatever. It's not going to work, Maura."
She is confident on this. She would had already died of embarrassment if it was possible to die in such a way.
"Let's go get some chow, I'm starved," she finally says, and makes a show of putting everything back in the box and locking it away in the bottom drawer of her desk, but while Maura is putting on her coat, she discretely pockets Maura's present.
It is conveniently sized, Jane will give her that.
xxx
The following week starts with Maura giving them the key evidence to solve the case.
It is the start of, easily, the worst week in Jane's life.
There are fingerprints and almost an entire palm print on Matthew's glasses that do not match the boy or any of the suspects. Not only that, given the size of the prints, Maura comes to the conclusion that they cannot belong to an average-sized adult, not even to one that was three standard deviations away from the mean.
Jane interprets that to mean they are looking for a child.
Or as Maura helpfully points out, a dwarf. But Jane is leaning heavily on the prints belonging to a child.
They will need a Judge to give them approval to collect fingerprints from all the children Matthew associated with, but it is now just a question of time. Jane is confident they will soon know who was with Matthew at the pond. And once they have a name, they will be closer to figuring out what happened.
On Friday, after a week of flirting and Maura repeatedly asking Jane if she has yet tried out her present or perhaps needs help in figuring out how it works, Maura asks Jane out. Actually, she asks her in. She asks Jane to go out for a quiet dinner, and then, to watch a movie together at Jane's apartment.
Jane is only too happy to agree.
They go out for an early dinner at a small restaurant where Jane can have a hamburger and Maura can eat most of Jane's fries and quite a bit of her own salad. It is a cold evening, but they take the long way back to the car, walking close together.
"Are you cold?" Maura asks, when she notices Jane rubbing her hands and breathing into them.
Jane, always self concious of her hands, immediately tries to hide them, putting her arms flat against her body.
"Just my hands, but it's-," a pause. "Oh."
Jane feels her heart skip a beat and then, race to catch up. The feel of Maura's warm hand on hers producing a heat completely out of proportion. She swallows hard and tentatively squeezes Maura's fingers.
"Your hand is warm," Jane whispers.
They hold hands all the way to the car. Jane feels like she is walking three feet off the floor.
When they get to Jane's apartment, Maura kicks off her heels and sits on the sofa. After some banter and a bit of dramatics from Jane, they decide on watching a re-run of the Exorcist that will start in an hour. Maura has never seen it, and Jane insists it is a classic.
Jane gets them some snacks and drinks, placing them on the coffee table, and, for once, does the brave thing.
She sits nearly on top of Maura and immediately passes an arm around her shoulders. When she feels Maura move against her side, pressing even closer, she lowers her arm until it rests on Maura's waist. She lets her thumb caress the silk of Maura's blouse as she enjoys the press of Maura's body against hers.
Maura touches Jane's cheek, removing a strand of hair from Jane's face and moving it behind her ear. She leans her forehead against Jane's cheek for a moment, then, she rubs her nose over Jane's face, moving ever closer, until her breath falls on Jane's mouth.
Jane closes her eyes and waits.
Then, she laughs and frowns, "don't kiss my nose, Maura."
"You have a very aesthetically pleasing nose, Jane. Your ethnoid bone and nassal septum are-,"
Jane interrupts, "it's weird."
Maura looks into Jane's eyes, their faces so close their noses are almost touching. She smiles. "Where can I kiss you, then?"
Jane gives Maura the biggest smile Maura has ever seen, then, she reaches with a hand that trembles slightly to touch Maura's hair. "I love your hair," Jane whispers. She kisses Maura's ear. "You can kiss me there," she mumbles. She slides her lips over Maura's soft cheek, "or here," she says roughly. Then, she lets her lips move lower until she is kissing Maura, once, twice, catching her lower lip between both of hers. "Here," she says, between kisses. "Always here."
Jane is breathing like she just ran a marathon, her body rioting, spiralling out of control too fast. She surges against Maura, pressing her into the arm of the sofa, opening her mouth and letting her tongue touch Maura's lips, asking for entry.
Maura opens her lips and breathes into Jane's mouth, her tongue tentatively touching Jane's.
Jane whimpers so loudly that it startles Maura into inaction.
She pushes Jane away, a hand firmly on the middle of her chest.
Maura looks at Jane for a moment, trying to catch her breath. "I think that should be enough for you to provide answers to the DHS Likert scale." She finally says.
"What?" Jane says roughly. She is entirely dazed. She tries to push forward again, but the hand on her chest stops her.
"The DHS study on gender differences? I gave you the folder a few weeks ago and told you to go carefully through the information it contained?"
Jane shakes her head, trying to calm her breathing. She cannot understand why they are talking about a stupid study when they could be making out on the sofa. Now that she has discovered how wonderful it is to kiss Maura, she wants to spend the rest of the evening doing it. Maybe longer.
"Maura, I don't know what you're talking about." She almost whines. Her eyes dropping to Maura's mouth, her hand reaching out to touch Maura's fingers on her chest. She fully intends to push that hand lower. And to the side. She wants Maura to feel her heart beat. She wants to feel Maura's warm hand on her breast.
Maura's brow crinkles, her fingers escaping from under Jane's hand. She looks around the room.
There, under the coffee table, she can see the folder. She moves to retrieve it.
"Here." She gives it to Jane.
Jane looks at Maura for a moment, still not fully understanding anything beyond the thumping of her heart against her ribcage. But when Maura shoves the folder into her hands, she dutifully opens it and reads it.
The folder starts with a summary report addressed to Detective Jane Rizzoli, Boston Police Department. It is dated six weeks ago and Jane can fuzzily remember Maura giving it to her. That Saturday morning things had started to turn. Maura had come over and, although she had left in a bit of a hurry, she had reached out to Jane for the first time since she came back to Boston.
Jane reads the information. It explains that she will be tested, in the coming weeks, by a researcher on a number of potentially unwanted advances in the work force. The file proceeds to list the items the researcher will be using as cues to try to fabricate such advances, providing a detailed list: (1) looking a person up and down; (2) blocking a person's path; (3) displaying sexually suggestive visuals; (4) making comments about a person's body; (5) asking about sexual fantasies, preferences or history; (6) asking out a person; (7) giving personal gifts; (8) standing close or brushing up against the other person; (9) touching the person's clothing, hair, or body; (10) hugging, kissing, patting or stroking.
There are a lot of details and paperwork after that, but that is all Jane can read.
Face white as a sheet, she looks up. Pages falling to the floor from lifeless fingers, forgotten.
She swallows down the bile threatening to rise.
"Is this what has been going on?" Jane asks, voice thick, low, "you know, with us?" She feels something horrible inside her chest moving, like a curled up snake awakening, trying to claw its way out.
Maura only looks at her, uncomprehending. "I have conducted the tests adhering precisely to the established guidelines, if that is what you are asking." She says.
"But-, but the-, but you-, I-," for once, Jane is at a loss for words. "No, no. Not you. I. Always I."
She rubs her hands over her face. Maura cannot help but notice that they shake as she moves them to smooth her wild hair out of her face.
"Do you need me to grade this for you right now, Maura?" Jane finally asks, voice so low Maura struggles to understand her.
Maura nods. "If you would not mind. It is always best to fill in the answers as soon as possible after the tests are conducted; the recency effect is, for the purpose of this study, a positive behavioural bias."
Jane stares at Maura for a moment longer. Then, she stands up on wobbly legs.
"Of course. But I-, I need some fresh air, first."
She walks out not bothering with a jacket.
It is twenty degrees out.
Jane is colder inside.
xxx
